"Out of the Frying Pan"- Book IV - Into the Fire [STORY HOUR COMPLETED - 12/25/06]

Session #92 (part 1)

Kazrack cried out with alarm as the ooze formed into a fist-like pseudopod and slammed into his chest. There was an acrid hiss as the delicate etching on his masterwork plate melted away. The dwarf jerked back, certain the ooze would have burned through his labor of love in only a few moments of contact.

Roland hastily prayed to Bast to grant him protection from energy gearing it towards acid and drawing his crossbow, drew back.

The Keepers of the Gate withdrew and Ratchis called out, “Martin, make the call soon!”

“Feel free! Attack!” Martin the Green said, confused that the sole responsibility had fallen on him. (1) “It attacked us first.” With an additional word of the arcane he cast mage armor upon himself.

Dorn moved behind Ratchis and loaded his crossbow, turning his head from side to side to keep an eye on the corner of the room oozing its magma phoenix.

Two arrows from Gunthar hissed and disintegrated as they plunged into the vaguely humanoid ooze para-elemental. Its limbs dripped with each step forward, leaving behind slimy green and brown bits of itself that snaked back into the corner pit it had emerged from, creating a trail.

Bastian called for flame in his dialect of dwarven and hurled it at the thing, but it snuffed out as it struck it.

Kazrack ducked another of the thing’s psuedopods as it drove them back towards the center of the room, below the raised column that held the stairs. Roland stepped in front of Bastian with words of prayer on his lips, but the prayer became a cry of agony as the heavy limb of the thing slammed him. The Bastite lost his spell and stumbled backward, dropping his crossbow. Bastian stepped to the side to draw its attention and tried to cast again, but again the thing whipped a limb out and the bearded warrior-warlock found his spell was ruined as well.

Kazrack, Ratchis and Gunthar moved in. Their metal weapons hissed as they sometimes cut pieces both great and small from the ooze elemental, leaving trails of acrid smoke to trace the arc of their swing. However, most of the blows made shallow cuts that were reabsorbed into its slimy mass. Martin crept forward and with a mental nudge cast bull’s strength from his ring of marked excellence upon Gunthar.

“Thank you for using me, kind sir,” the ring said in the watch-mage’s mind. “But really you should fill me up with more spells. I am nearly depleted.”

Bastian flung more flame at the thing and this time it seemed to shrink the slightest bit from it.

“Everyone back up and let it come to us,” Ratchis said, and Gunthar and Kazrack immediately complied. The half-orc stepped back as well, and had to duck the swing of the thing. Another pseudopod stretched out far, scoring Kazrack’s armor once again.

“Krauchaar! Bless my bones and make me strong so that I might fell my foes easier,” Kazrack called to the dwarven warrior god.

As Roland was overcome by the powerful scents of the room when he transformed into his panther shape, Bastian leapt at the para-elemental, ducking one of its blow and doing a shoulder roll to get back to his feet on the other side of it, warhammer in hand.

“Bastian! Not that way!” Ratchis said to him. “This way! We need to all stick together and decide one way to go.”

Bastian shrugged and dove through the monster’s threatened area again, easily avoiding its blow, but Ratchis must have been momentarily distracted because he suddenly felt the weight of a burning punching blow strike him on the side of the head. He stumbled back, and Roland immediately cast a healing spell that resealed the blistered and bruised skin. Kazrack stepped between and cut another hunk from the para-elemental.

“Stick with the plan,” Kazrack said. “Fall back, everybody back.” But by then, having reached the center of the room, where the stairs had one been, the Keepers of the Gate were unsure of which way to go.

Gunthar’s left hand stabbed with great speed using Mozek’s sword, Hornet. There was a rain of slime whenever he closed with it, keeping it at bay with the longer blade as he repeatedly plunged in the other. Suddenly the top part of the vague humanoid swelled up and it thrust itself into Gunthar shoving him back with great strength. Gunthar cried out as he tried to push back, pressing into the acidic ooze, but he slid right between the two gray columns where multi-colored fragrant smoke puffed and twirled.

“This thing is nastier than the abortion bucket at a whorehouse,” Gunthar said, as he swung his melting longsword. He had managed to keep his feet, but his non-magical blade was whipping bits of slag with every swing.

Kazrack, who was closest to the smoke-filled corner side spun around in time to feel the immaterial black claws of a smoke elemental slip through his armor and slice his flesh beneath.

“Finish this thing!” Ratchis roared, but the ooze elemental sucked itself back into a ball to avoid his vicious blows. Kazrack leapt away from the smoke elemental and brought his magical halberd down on the ooze in a wide downward chop. The thing exploded sending acid in all directions. Ratchis and Kazrack absorbed most of it, patches of skin and hair burning away. Ratchis looked down to watch the individual globules rolls slowly back into the corner the creature had emerge from, and saw that his Boots of Uller were now less than rags on his feet, and he winced as he felt the burning cold of the stone floor on his bare soles.

“The acid pool retreats,” Roland warned the others. “It may reform. We need to pick a way and go!” He hurried back towards the original portal they headed towards, and Dorn and Bastian followed him.

Martin the Green drew the Wurfel Kraft from its pouch and activated the side depicting grapes.

The smoke para-elemental floated silently after them. It was a column of black, blue and orange, twirling and expanding within itself. It had two ghostly black claws that hung beneath it as if dragged by an invisible string. It enveloped Bastian as the man spun around. The smells passed over him like waves, taking his mind away to some memory or another each time. Baked beans, frying fish, the musk of a boar’s den, the spoiled stench of a pig sty, the disgust of burning hair. Suddenly, Bastian realized he could not breath. The smoke elemental was as much within his lungs as around him, and he jerked in pain as the claws raked over his chest.

Roland roared and leapt at the Bastian, knocking him back out of the thing. The Bastite felt the thing’s sharp claws catch his back as he leapt away, and Bastian bent over and let out a hacking cough. Black smoke emerged from his mouth and he stumbled into the cube’s blue field, leaning on Martin for a moment as he caught his breath. The elemental monster twirled and snaked across to Ratchis who was now making for the black lightless doorway as well, and in half a moment it now enveloped him.

“What the f*ck are you looking at, Pointy? Gunthar was heard to say, and everyone turned to see him address a pyramidal modron that looked exactly like the one they had left on the tower above. (2) It had come through the black portal between the smoke and the ice corners and was walking with determination into the center of the room.

“Everyone gather about me! The smoke cannot enter the cube,” Martin said, following the modron as it changed direction without turning its body, now moving towards the same door the party was headed towards. Each of its three upright sides had a large yellow eye, and a bill like horn for a mouth. It had three arms and three legs, one of each on each of those sides. (3) It disappeared through the portal.

Holding his breath, Ratchis managed to leap into the cube’s blue field before breathing in any of the smoke elemental. In a moment, everyone was crammed within it, as the para-elemental hovered above them. Martin moved the cube right up against the portal and the wall there.

“We should all go through together,” Kazrack said of the portal.

“I can slowly move the cube forward allowing us to pass through in a line grasping hands and bringing the Wurful Kraft’s field with us,” Martin suggested. “But, if this is like the door to the pocket dimension that held the city of Topaline, then we will be blind when come through the other side.”

“I don’t think Hurgun would have made doors in his house that make you blind every time you go through them,” Roland said.

“He may have had way to make himself immune to that side-effect,” Martin posited.

“We have no choice,” Kazrack said. “The best we can hope for is that we stay together.”

The Keepers of the Gate locked arms and Kazrack stepped out of the cube and through the portal. He felt a shock of cold as all went black, but Ratchis cried out as he felt something stab at his very being. Stunned, he fell through the portal behind the dwarf, but Dorn who was next cried out as well and let go of the half-orc. The Herman-lander reeled as he tried to shake off the pain, so he could not resist when Gunthar shoved him through the portal after the first two. Roland, who had been grabbing onto the rear of Dorn’s coat with his teeth, yowled and let go, falling to one side stunned.

Gunthar shrugged and leapt through and Bastian helped Roland to his feet and sent him through as well. The bearded warrior leapt through with Martin right behind.

--------------------------------------------------
Kazrack and Ratchis found themselves in a short dark tunnel of some sort with an arched ceiling. It was barely more than fifteen feet long and just about the same width, and ended in a portcullis of broad metal bands, from beyond which came a dull yellow light.

“I hope this delay does not mean we have been separated,” Ratchis was saying to Kazrack as he rubbed at the pain in his temples. Dorn stumbled through and fell to the ground. Gunthar came right behind him.

“Where are we now?” the Neergaardian’s voice reverberated down the short tunnel. There was murmur of clicks from beyond the portcullis.

“Did you hear that?” Kazrack was asking as Roland came through with Bastian right on his heels.

“What is this place?” Roland asked when he regained his senses. He walked over to the portcullis and began to sniff at the openings in it.

Martin the Green stepped through.

“My! It is a lot more crowded in here than I though it would be,” he said, and with that the portcullis began to slowly rise.

“Intruders. Come forward for judgment,” came the clockwork voice of what could only be some kind of modron. Its voice was eight tones that complimented each other in cold harmonies, two, three, four even five at a time, the chords changing with each word. There was another murmured cacophony of clicking that washed around them in the cramped tunnel.

“Maybe we should go back and try another way,” Ratchis said.

“These creatures obviously dwell here,” Kazrack reasoned. “We should not flee from them, but step forward and explain our cause.”

“The voice said something about ‘judgment’,” Ratchis replied. “What if they judge against us?”

“I see no reason why they would, we have done nothing wrong,” Ratchis opened his mouth to interrupt, but Kazrack just continued on in a harsh whisper. “But if such a thing were to happen, we’ll be sure to stand by Martin and he can activate the cube and we can push our way out of there.”

Since no one could think of a better plan, and the modrons seemed more likely to be parleyed with than the para-elemental guardians, they stepped past the risen gate. Ratchis and Kazrack led the way, with Martin close behind them. The trio was followed by Dorn and Roland, and Bastian and Gunthar took up the rear.

The Keepers of the Gate stepped out into a tiered gallery. This chamber seemed much the same square shape and size as the first room of the Maze, but the floor level was only thirty feet long and twenty-five feet wide, and surrounded by twelve foot tall walls. The entire place seemed carved from one immense cube of living rock. The ceiling was arched and plated in dull gold that emanated the yellow light of the chamber.

Directly across from them was another portcullis, this one closed and above it was a elaborate stone balcony set with a tall-backed stone throne-like chair. The balcony was carved from the great angular stone that made up the rear wall. There was a closed portcullis to the left and right beneath the tiers as well. (4) There were no seats behind or above it. The tiers were connected by short narrow stone steps, and each one was not much wider than five feet.

The tiered seats were filled with nearly two score modrons of various kinds. There were nearly a dozen of the pyramidal ones, but nearly a score had one eye and round spheres for bodies, with two spindly legs, tiny wings and no arms. (5) There were a handful of six-sided cube-bodied modrons, with two legs that ended in black hooves and two arms, but with two eyes on each of its facing sides. (6)

The balcony was flanked by a pair of pentadrones (7) that spun, lifting their flat limbs slightly as they buzzed. And within the balcony propped awkwardly atop the throne was the strangest of these creatures yet. Its head was a great sphere with ten round eyes set evenly about it, and beneath each was a long tentacle that ended in a narrow clawed finger. The top of the sphere was a wide mouth, and the whole head rested on a pair of trunk-like elephantine legs.

"Intruders. You shall be judged,” they heard the freakish thing before them say. Its mouth did not move, but there was no doubt it came from the lead modron. A tentacle touched something on a panel before the throne and the portcullis behind them slammed shut. “I am the Decaton. (8) I command the collective for the Master.

“Whatta load of freaks!” Gunthar swore. Roland hushed him.

“Martin, step forward,” Kazrack whispered, stepping aside to let the watch-mage past. “You are our best talker.”

The first question of this inquiry shall be question number one, and question number one is: Do you have an invitation?” the decaton asked.

“Oh great and unerring servant of Ptah,” Martin began looking up with arms outstretched in exaggerated supplication. “We come seeking to save our world from the random fluctuations that threaten to tear it apart because of the very existence of this Maze. We did not mean to arrive without an invitation, but it an emergency.”

No invitation, no admittance,” the decaton said, and all the other modrons echoed the rule. “Admission with out invitation is a violation.” The thing’s multi-toned voice hit a sharp dissonant chord when it said its last word.

“Violation. Violation,” the modrons all repeated in agreement in their cold voices.

“We did not seek to violate this place or its rules,” Kazrack spoke up. “But we have come to save your master, Hurgun of the Stone.”

“Perhaps you are unaware that he is trapped in the center of his own Maze and he must be rescued if the Maze is to be moved away from Aquerra and he is to retain control of it," Martin added. “Our goals here are selfless, but others who may soon access it will be not be so.”

There is no center of the Maze,” the decaton replied, its voices striking dissonance again when it spoke the word ‘center’. “You are operating with incomplete data. Incomplete data leads to violations. Violation equals re-assimilation or banishment. Decaton calls to the gallery for affirmation of judgment.

“Wait! Wait!” Martin cried out. “We have done nothing. We are here to stop the planar bleed. Surely Hurgun left you with instructions of what to do if he did not return.”

“We await your judgment, Decaton,” the other modrons all said.

“Is there not a second in command? An assistant to Hurgun?” Martin asked.

Gilbart,” the Decaton replied with a warm group of tones that hummed nicely at the base of the back. “Gilbart is absent.

The Keepers of the Gate all looked at each other, but none recognized the name.

Outsider influence has led to corruption and re-programming of crucial modron units,” the Decaton said. “ We operate at less than full capacity. The modron maintenance re-assimilation station is no longer operational. However, judgment must still be made.

“But you said yourself that we are operating with insufficient data,” Martin reasoned. “And now, so are you. You will be in violation!”

Judgment has been reached, ” the Decaton said. “These before the Collective have been found in violation of the rules of admission and thus must face banishment, ” The last word words squelched in the party’s ears, and they winced. “All in favor?

The modrons clicked, “Aye” in perfect unison.

Those against?” The only sound was Martin the Green growing desperate.

You have been found to be in violation, ” the decaton said to the Keepers of the Gate. “You are to be banished. You must GO TO HELL!

The decaton pointed to the portcullis on their left with three of his tentacles while another depressed something on the console before him, and it started to rise.

“You have no authority to do this,” Martin protested. “We have done nothing to deserve this fate!”

Please step to the left, ” the Decaton said in a perfunctory manner.

The Keepers of the Gate looked at each other dumbfounded as all the modrons around them clicked and whirred and repeated the words “banishment” and “hell” to each other in perfect agreement.

“What can we do to not go to Hell?” Kazrack asked. “How may we make up for being in violation?”

The decaton turned its great spherical head so that one of its eyes was looking right at Kazrack, while another looked right at Martin.

Can you repair the modron station? We cannot re-assimilate. We cannot repair the damage, ” the Decaton said.

“Yes! Please allow us a chance to repair it!” Martin took up the slim hope. “You are obviously not functioning at full capacity and need to be serviced at this modron station. We can help you and then you can help us help Hurgun.”

Outsider influence, ” the Decaton said. “Our numbers dwindle remaining unassimilated because of the strange monkey demon. It was in violation. The Master was seeing to it.

“Mitha-agogol! (8)” Martin cried. “How long ago?”

It has not been seen since…” the thing’s huge head jerked back and forth spasmodically and it clicked and whirred unintelligibly. “Please step to the left.

“You cannot pass judgment if you are in need of repairs,” Roland said. “Your judgment might be flawed and then, as Martin said, you would be in violation and would have to banish yourself to Hell.”

“Direct us to this modron station and we will do our best to fix it for you,” Kazrack said.

Modron station is past Hell, ” the Decaton said. “Please step to the left. ” It pointed with six of its tentacles this time.

“We formally request permission to visit the modron station before going to Hell in order that it might be fixed,” Martin said.

Request approved on conditional basis, ” the Decaton replied.

“And uh, we’d like a guide,” Martin added. “Perhaps a tridrone to show us the way to the Modron Station?”

Tridrone-9,” the Decaton announced, and a pyramidal modron presented itself at the left hand exit that was now open. “Designation Nine will guide this outsider contamination to the room of Hell and beyond to the modron station. This is Rule Priority Two, second only to your primary designation.

“Yes, Decaton,” the tridrone replied in its honking voice.

“We thank you for your kind aid, and hope we can return the favor by repairing the modron station, defeating the monkey-demon and rescuing your master from whatever fate has befallen him,” Martin said. He turned to the tridrone guide. “Lead away, good Tridrone. Guide us to this modron station at once!”

The pyramid of ruddy flesh upon spindly legs made a slight adjustment and then retreated back down the tunnel to the left. Ratchis and Kazrack followed it, followed closely by Martin and then the rest.

As the last of them passed under the portcullis it slammed shut and they could hear the decaton say, “Sentence rendered: To Hell! ” The modrons in the gallery clicked their agreement.

The Keepers of the Gate found themselves in a tunnel much like the one they first appeared in, except this one had narrow stone stairs leading up to the gallery tiers on either side. They were blocked by gates of their own.

”Tridrone-9, please lead us to the modron station,” Martin asked the modron again.

“This. Way.” It clicked and scurried through the portal of darkness at the end of the tunnel.

“Do you think Hell is really, you know… Hell?” Roland asked Martin. “I mean, like the plane realm ruled by Set?” (9)

Martin could only shrug as each member of the party passed through the portal in turn.
 
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Notes:
(1) See Last Session, when the Keepers of the Gate decided they would let thing clearly attack them before they attacked.

(2) This was the creature the part had met in Garvan in Session #16, and discovered it was missing in Session #51. They assume it was the same one that was killed when the wyvern carrying it slammed into the tower above (see Session #89)

(3) For more about Tridrones go here

(4) See the Map behind the sblock Though I fear it may not help to explain the room without more description. The dotted line walls are on from the point of view of the floor level, beneath the tiers. And the stairway behind the throne and console goes down into the tunnel beneath the balcony. Each level was approximately four feet above the one below it, so it was about thirty feet from the highest tier to the lowest level. [sblock]
earth(audience).gif
[/sblock]

(5) Monodrones [sblock]
monodrone.gif
[/sblock]

(6) Quadrones [sblock]
quadrone.gif
[/sblock]

(7) Pentadrones [sblock]
pentadrone.gif
[/sblock]

(8) Decaton [sblock]
decaton.gif
[/sblock]

(9) Actually, Set is only the ruler of three of the layers of the Nine Hells, conquering them when he fled the Prime after The Time Before.
 

el-remmen said:
“You have been found to be in violation,” the decaton said to the Keepers of the Gate. “You are to be banished. You must GO TO HELL!”
And this is why it's bad to roll a 1 on your Diplomacy check.
 

Martin seemed to do a good job to me, considering the circumstances. I know Modrons are published somewhere. Are all these creatures from Planescape? Paraelementals are probably from the old favorite Fiend Folio
 

Manzanita said:
I know Modrons are published somewhere. Are all these creatures from Planescape? Paraelementals are probably from the old favorite Fiend Folio

I adapted Modrons to 3E myself based on some conversions I found online, but I am not much of a straight conversion kind of guy. :-)

Actually, both modrons and paraelementals were in the old 1E Monster Manual II - but the latter I got from the the 3.0 Manual of the Planes.
 

11 sessions to go. . .

Session #92 (part ii)

“Is this the modron station?” Martin the Green asked as he stepped out of the portal. This time there were no unpleasant side-effects. It seemed that something about trying to go through too slowly or touching another living thing was what caused the stunning effect.

“No, this is clearly Hell,” Roland said, hearing the watch-mage’s question as he came into the room as well. He was still in panther-form and he scrunched up his muzzle as the sulfurous smell of the air of the room filled his sensitive feline nostrils. “At least, it smells like it.”

They were in a darkened room. A fifteen foot wide path led to another of the black portals seventy-five feet across the chamber. The ceiling here was much lower than it had been in the audience chamber, only about twenty feet. The center of the path widened to create a kind of central room enclosed by partitioned walls that made the narrow halls that branched around the outside of the chamber to the left and right. (1) The center area was illuminated by a dull red light that stung the eyes ever so slightly and ruined Ratchis’ and Kazrack’s darkvision.

The tridrone had procured a feather duster from some corner and was brushing off some objects resting on shelves built into the inside other angular partitioned walls that created the center area.

Martin the Green walked over to it, looking around with paranoia as he activated the rune of light medallion about his neck with a word. There was a heavy sense of doom in the air here that the light of the medallion could not dispel, even when Dorn activated the one he wore as well.

”Tridrone-9, please show us to the modron station,” Martin said to it.

“Dirty. Must. Clean,” it chirped.

“Oh Bast, don’t tell me this thing is not functioning,” Roland complained of the pyramidal creature, creeping forward silently on his padded paws.

“Must show us to the modron station,” Martin repeated, inadvertently adopting its cadence. “So said the Decaton.”

“Secondary designation. Primary designation. Clean,” the tridrone said, cryptically.

Martin turned to Roland, shrugging. “I think it is working as well as these things ever work.”

Ratchis and Kazrack came walking over when suddenly everyone froze. There was a momentary scream of agony that came from the far side of the room to the left. It was a hoarse scream that cut short.

“There may be someone kept prisoner in here,” Roland said.

“Or being punished,” Martin said. “We may have discovered the reason why this room is called ‘Hell’.”

The Keepers of the Gate hurried past the central area, making a note of the objects found in there. On the left shelf was a silver flask with a black cap, and on the right one was a worn leather satchel. On the black stone pedestal in the center of the area, which the tridrone had been dusting, was a large black sapphire about half the size of a man’s fist. It rested on a black velvet cushion and the black metal plate it rested on was carved with some kind of runes. But they left it behind, making their way around the left partition wall to the small room in that corner.

Ratchis was the first to look in but the area beyond was dark to him despite his darkvision. When Dorn walked over the light of his medallion was swallowed by the darkness of the room and suddenly Ratchis could see in the gray tones he was used to. Finally, when Martin arrived with his light the room was illuminated. (2) The barren room beyond had two twenty foot long perpendicular rear walls, but the wall the entrance was in was at an angle, halving the room’s effective size.

There was a man dressed in a plain white tunic made gray with dust and dirt. He was writhing around on the floor of the room. He brought his hands to his head and rolled over and then shook with spasms and then seized up. He grabbed at his hair and then covered his ears, and then curled up into a ball. All along the man looked as if he were screaming in agony, but no sound emerged from him.

Martin turned to say something to Ratchis, but no sound came from his mouth either.

The man seemed to take no notice of them. He continued to shake and writhe and sob silently. Sometimes he would try to get up only to collapse again.

The party gathered outside of the room to talk.

“He probably stumbled out of the range of the silence momentarily and that was why we heard him,” Martin speculated.

Kazrack frowned and walking into the room grabbed the man by the shoulders and dragged him out. From the moment they emerged from the area of the magical silence the man’s screams became almost too much to bear. Over and over he screamed, sometimes saying something that almost sounded like a name, but mostly it was unintelligible.

Kazrack tried a cure minor wounds, but nothing seemed to calm the man. Roland called for Bast to give him the power to see magical dweomers and the cried out in alarm. The magic emanating from the man was overwhelming! He went in and checked the room while the spell was still active and noticed a strong aura coming from something on the far left wall. It was a framed document scrawled in what could only be blood, but the language was unknown to Roland.

Martin the Green went in and examined it and then came back out.

“I cannot read it without aid of a spell, but it is certainly the infernal tongue of Hell,” Martin said to the others. “My guess is that it is a contract of some sort.”

“So this man is suffering because he signed himself over to Hell?” Roland asked, rhetorically.

They dragged him back into the silenced room so they would not have to hear him while they decided what to do about him. The tridrone walked over and then into the room, reaching up to dust the framed contract.

“As much as it pains me to do this, we have to leave this man here,” Ratchis said. “We do not know the reason why he is here or in this condition, and we do not have the means to save him now anyway. We need to focus on finding the modron station.”

“Well, it seems our guide must clean this room first,” Roland said, annoyed. “So we might as well take a look around.”

They walked back the central area of the chamber to find Gunthar already there. He had the satchel in hand and was undoing the button that kept it closed.

“Gunthar! Stop!” Martin hurried and placed a hand on the Neergardian’s arm. Gunthar pulled away angrily. He reached into the satchel and his face took on a puzzled look for a moment and then he drew a longsword of masterwork quality from within it. The sword was at least three times longer than the apparent depth of the bag.

“Is it magical?” Gunthar asked Roland.

“No,” Roland replied. “And at best it is useless to us, but it is probably cursed.”

“You’re lying,” Gunthar spat.

“Gunthar, we shouldn’t touch anything,” Martin said. “We don’t know what unforeseen consequences taking things might have.”

“Bah! What’s the point of coming to a place from the Age of Adventurers if you can’t take anything?” Gunthar complained. He shoved the sword back into the satchel and placed it back on the shelf without buttoning it shut.

Kazrack was looking at the black sapphire on the pedestal with a frown. The runes about it were a name in dwarven. It said, “Dwitek Chem Agh-Lorgh.” The name was familiar to him, but he was unsure why it would be on the metal plate beneath the gemstone. (3)

“Roland, is this gem magical?” he asked.

“Yes,” the Bastite replied.

Tridrone-9 emerged from the silenced room and began to walk into the room in the far right corner which was also obscured by magical darkness.

“We should keep it in sight,” Martin said. “We do not want it leaving the room without us knowing which way it went.”

The Keepers of the Gate went into that room. It was similar to the silenced room in shape and was barren except for a great chair carved of the same black stone as the walls of the chamber. The rear of the chair leaned back, so the pale naked man laying upon it was nearly lying down.

Martin turned to Ratchis, “I leave any decisions regarding freeing any of these people to you, as you are a priest of Nephthys. I defer to your wisdom on these matters.”

The Friar nodded. The tridrone was now dusting the naked man and the Keepers of the Gate approached to take a better look. He was very pale, nearly albino, but with black stringy hair and no eyebrows. He had broad shoulders and was well-muscled. The man’s eyes were closed.

“He’s not breathing,” Martin said, pointing to the man’s chest.

“Could this be the ‘Gilbart’ the lead modron mentioned?” Ratchis asked.

“Doubtful,” Martin pulled his hand away from his own face, as he had been unconsciously picking at the gray scabs of his disfigurement. (4) “Uh… He’s too muscular to be a wizard’s apprentice.”

“My! Martin, but that’s magist!” Roland said.

The watch-mage shrugged his shoulders. “I went to a whole school full of mages,” he replied. “Let’s just say the athletic program was an elective.”

“Elective?” Roland asked.

“An optional class,” Martin explained.

“Oh, why would any one opt to take a class?” Roland purred. “I always found school so boring, and experience a much better teacher.”

“Can we concentrate on the task at hand?” Ratchis asked with venom in his growling voice.

Martin kneeled beside the tridrone. “If I help you clean can we move on and you can show us to the modron station?”

The tridrone did not respond. It continued to dust. Martin spoke an arcane word and with a prestidigitation he cleaned off the naked man.

The tridrone turned three times as if confused and then left the room. The others moved aside to let it by, and then as a group the whole party followed the modron. Tridrone-9 walked around the central area and disappeared into the darkness of another corner room.

Bastian and Dorn stopped at the entrance to the room, the light of the latter’s medallion swallowed by the magical darkness within. Kazrack walked over, being able to see into the room with his darkvision. Ratchis was right behind him and could see something reflective for a moment.

There was a long silence. “So what’s in there?” Dorn asked Ratchis. There was no answer.

“Ratchis?” Dorn asked again. “Kazrack?” There was still no answer. “Martin! Something happened to Ratchis and Kazrack! They’re gone!”

With an arcane word in a dwarven dialect, Bastian cast light upon his shield, and now this second spell illuminated the small room beyond. Martin and Roland were on their way over when there was a strange flash and the light was gone.

“Bastian? Dorn?” Martin the Green said, coming forward.

“I don’t smell them,” Roland said. “I don’t smell any of them, except…”

There was a shuffle and a snort from within the darkened room. “They are all gone, and something is in that room that isn’t any of them,” Roland said. He and Martin retreated into the red light of the central room, where Gunthar was looking at the flask.

There was a thump of a heavy bare footstep and another snort and the sound like a large fist slamming against a chest. A great ape leapt out of the darkness into the red light. It was over seven feet tall and had blue-black fur on its head and shoulders that slowly became gray towards the legs. It snarled and swung over on its great knuckles.

Martin gasped. The top of the thing’s skull was gone from just above the eyes and there a great swollen green and blue pulsating brain emerged. Its moist eyes shone blue-green.

“I told you not to touch anything,” Gunthar admonished, drawing his partially melted longsword.

“We are free,” the gorilla said in a husky voice. His teeth were bright white and his fangs very long. His nostrils flared and he stuck out his chest as he got even closer. Martin took a step back. “Human! Where is Hurgun?”

“Wuh… We do not know,” Martin replied. “We seek him ourselves. I am Martin the Green of the Academy of Wizardry, and we seem to have lost our companions. Would you know where they might be?”

The gorilla snorted. “We care not for your human academies,” he replied. “Ming, King of the Dakkons, only cares to find Hurgun so we might get our revenge on him. Beware him, if you truly seek him, humans, for he is a crafty foe that has no respect for his betters.”

“Uh, you said you were free?” Martin ventured. “Where were you captured?”

“Within the mirror of trapping, left to stare at our glorious self for a seeming instant, which now in my memory weighs as an eternity,” Ming said. “It must be full now and your companions looking into it must have freed us. How ironic that the stupid luck of humans would free the King of the Dakkons! When we rule Aquerra again, we shall remember to keep some of your kind as slaves in honor of your own stupidity.” (5)

“Rule it again?” Martin asked.

“Bah! We must find Hurgun!” The gorilla straightened up and craned his head looking for the ways out, acting as if the three adventurers were beneath his notice.

“Wait! How can we get our friends out of the mirror?” Martin asked.

“Heh. Why should we help such lowly humans?” Ming thumped his chest once and snarled.

“We helped you, even if by accident,” Martin replied. “Plus, it would anger Hurgun. Wouldn’t you like that?”

“Yes… Yes, it would please us,” Ming said. “But Ming does not help humans for nothing. Give me those rings you wear. We see their dweomers. They would please us.”

“Uh, I need these rings,” Martin said. “Well, I guess I can part with one…” He took off the Ring of Marked Excellence eager to stop hearing the ring’s begging in his mind that began the moment he mentioned the possibility. It did not want to be handed over to a huge gorilla with an exposed pulsating brain. “I shall give you this ring and you shall tell us how to free our friends.”

The ring was dropped in the gorilla’s great palm. “Smash the mirror,” the gorilla snarled, enclosing the ring within his fist. “Smash the mirror and they shall all be free.” Ming snorted and puffed up his chest again and, slamming it twice, took off for the portal out the other side of the room.

“I don’t know if we should believe him,” Roland said after the gorilla was gone. “Smashing it seems like it might be the way to have them be lost forever. Perhaps there are instructions for the use of the mirror somewhere in the Maze and we can go find them and return.”

Martin shook his head. “We have no way of knowing if such a thing exists, where it might be, and if we could ever make our way back to this room if we leave without them. I think we have no choice but to trust the ape and smash the mirror.”

“What about…” Roland stopped himself. “No, that would not be right…”

“What?” asked Martin.

“I thought we might use the tortured man or the breathless man to try to activate the mirror,” Roland explained. “If what Ming said is right and the mirror is full, then when someone gets sucked in someone else will come out.”

“Except…”

“Except we don’t know what order they will come out in, and if it is first in first out then we will not have enough bodies lying around to get to Ratchis and Dorn and the others,” Roland said. “Not to mention the nebulous morality of using those men for that purpose anyway. Or… we could use the tridrone.”

“No, that would not be right either, if they are even affected by such a thing,” Martin replied. “No, we must smash it.”

“What if take the mirror off of the wall and use it as a shield against the next foe we face? We get them to look into it and have someone else come out and so on until we get Snuffles, Stumpy, Beardy and the other guy out of there,” Gunthar spoke up with a suggestion.

“No, we should smash it because I think that is what Ratchis would say to do if he were here,” Martin reasoned. “I’ll do it.”

“No,” Gunthar put up a hand and stopped the watch-mage as he stepped towards the mirror room. “You are the brains of the group and if there is a bad consequence to breaking it we should not put your dough-ass on the line. Roland should do it.”

“I’m not going to do it,” Roland replied. “I’m just a pussycat, remember? Maybe you’re one too?”

”No, I am not,” Gunthar said. “But it seems I was right about you.” He hefted his slagged longsword and walked into the darkness. “Here goes nothing!” His voice echoed out of the small room, following by the sounds of breaking glass.

End of Session #92

-------------------------------------
Notes:

(1) See the map of the ‘Hell’ room for a better idea of what it looked like. Again this is a scan of the scale map I made for use by minis. The room needed to be pre-drawn for easy ability to switch between them without having to draw each time. The place is not called a “maze” for nothing. The map is behind the sblock to protect against spoilers. [sblock]
hell.gif

The darkened corners are the smaller rooms that each held a kind of prisoner.
[/sblock]

(2) The four corners were cloaked in permanent magical darkness. The first light counter acted the magical darkness leaving the area cloaked in normal darkness which Ratchis could see through, but it took a second source of magical light for the place to actually be illuminated.

(3) ‘Dwitek Chem Agh-Lourgh’ is the name of the last "official" king of a united dwarven nation.

(4) Remember Martin the Green’s face has been slowly shriveling away, exposing raw yellowed flesh beneath and black veins just under the skin. He also lost most of the teeth on the right side of his mouth and his fingernails have become black.

(5) Ming the Dakkon King is actually from an alternate Prime version of Aquerra that is ruled by the psionic philosopher gorillas known as Dakkons.
 
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You're really going to finish this thing, aren't you Nemmerle? I loved this update. Very funny and suspenseful. I'm on the edge of my seat to see what happens. Do you control Gunther out of combat? Otherwise Martin spent some time essentially talking to himself. Gunther is hillarious.

'Alternate Prime' aquerra. Sounds like the old DC universe!
 

Manzanita said:
Do you control Gunther out of combat? Otherwise Martin spent some time essentially talking to himself.
Yep, he controls Gunthar. Believe me, it's hard enough writing down all the quotes while handling one end of the conversation; there was no way I'd handle both. :D
 

“Heh. Why should we help such lowly humans?” Ming thumped his chest once and snarled.

“We helped you, even if by accident,” Martin replied. “Plus, it would anger Hurgun. Wouldn’t you like that?”

“Yes… Yes, it would please us,” Ming said. “But Ming does not help humans for nothing. Give me those rings you wear. We see their dweomers. They would please us.”

Philosopher-gorillas? Are you sure this one wasn't a psionic bureaucrat-gorilla? "I'm sorry, I just can't help you unless you bribe me. Those are the rules..." ;)
 

Pyske said:
Philosopher-gorillas? Are you sure this one wasn't a psionic bureaucrat-gorilla? "I'm sorry, I just can't help you unless you bribe me. Those are the rules..." ;)


Well, Ming is an aberration among his kind. . . :)
 

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