Piratecat's Updated Story Hour! (update 4/03 and 4/06)

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Jobu

First Post
Piratecat said:

“I’ll take that chance,” says Tao with gritted teeth. She stares at the giant’s face, as if memorizing it. The huge formorian giant stares back at her, amused, and runs one thick finger along the edge of his scythe. He takes in her magical armor and weapons, and his face starts to become mottled.

There are three things that haven't changed for Tao in all her years of adventuring.
1) She HATES Giants (speices enemy)
2) She is a favored tasty morsel for any and all Dragons
3) She will NEVER EVER EVER sleep with Nollin

unlike Mara (spoiler - LOL)
 

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Bloodsparrow

First Post
Hey... Look what I found on the WotC website!

SmallModronAnim.gif


Can you guess what it is?



Hmmm?



It's a Marching Modron.

:D
 
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Piratecat

Sesquipedalian
DispelAkimbo said:
Has someone at WotC been reading this story hour, or is this just a happy coin-cidence?

http://www.wizards.com/default.asp?x=dnd/re/20030901a

coin-cidence.....geddit? :D

Ugh. You should be pun-ished.

I know Robert pretty well, but he doesn't read this; it's a happy coincidence. Good monster, too!

I'm half-way through an update, incidentally. Hey, what do you call a kuo-toa who is playing poker? A fish with chips! Bwah ha ha ha ha, get it?

Never mind. I'm going to go make coffee.
 

Piratecat

Sesquipedalian
Henry said:
Make it REALLY, REALLY strong. ;)

You're going to make me do this, aren't you?

Okay. Paul the Samurai is facing off against Sloogoobl, a kuo-toa whip. Sloogoobl is a sunderin' fool, and he's just smashed both of the mercurial scimitars that Paul (who obviously has one level of front-loaded 3e ranger) typically wields. Desperate for a weapon, Paul snatches up two pincher staffs from slain kuo-toa foes lying nearby. Wielding both pole arms monkey-grip style, Paul circles Sloogoobl, looking for an opening.

There! Paul feints and swings forward, catching the kuo-toa across the slimy head with one of his wooden weapons. He spins, and the other staff cracks across the fish-man's forehead. A clearish blood trickles down into Sloogoobl's huge, bulbous eyes, and Paul grins as he gestures. "Bring it on!"

And Sloogoobl does, realizing that his key to victory will be leaving Paul unarmed. His wiry muscles bunching, the kuo-toa power attacks for everything he's worth, swinging his weapon in a blow designed to sunder the first pincher staff, smash through it, keep cleaving and sunder the next, smash through it, and finally impact upon Paul's lightly armored chest! The kuo-toa has put a lot of feats into perfecting this maneuver, and it has never failed him before. Even better, Paul is weilding two kuo-toa weapons, and Sloogoobl is intimately familiar with their strengths and weaknesses. It ought to be simple.

If only he noticed that patch of slime on the tiled floor.

Sloogoobl has put so much effort into his swing that when his webbed foot skids in the slime, he has no chance of recovering and sundering the two wooden weapons. No! The kuo-toa screams in denial as Paul prepares his deadly counter-attack, but there's no denying the obvious; Sloogoobl has failed. He misses Paul's fish sticks.

Get it? Get it? buh-dum-bump!

Thank you, thank you. You're very kind. I'll be here all week; invite your friends, and try the veal.
 
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Piratecat

Sesquipedalian
The town of Glig is an odd place. Smaller than Akin’s Throat, the town is carved from coral and stone and set at a confluence of ancient tunnels. Armed kuo-toa guards keep the peace at each of the seven barred entrances and exits. This place seems untouched by ghoulish depredations; while most of the inhabitants and visitors are kuo-toa, a handful are traders from other underdark races as well, and the Defenders of Daybreak and their dwarven entourage are admitted by the gate guards without comment. The entire town is knee-deep in cold, dark water, and the lighting is… wrong. Grayish luminescent slugs crawl slowly across the walls, giving the place a feel like the bottom of the ocean. Shapes seem strange to the Defenders, and the ripples in the oily water scatter the grayish light at odd angles. The smell of the town is intense, an odor redolent of rotting seafood that is slightly reminiscent of Lord Griggan’s basement in Eversink, and even conversation echoes unexpectedly off the water and walls. One thing that seems strange to Priggle and Velendo is that there is almost no decoration or ornamentation at all on any the buildings, not even carvings or sculptures. Only Burr-Lipp the bullywug gladiator seems entirely at ease.

As the group splits up to look around, Shaw bids them farewell. “They’re allowing me to head down to the city of Glubyal this evening,” he says as he gestures towards a particular gate with a calloused hand. “I’m to meet with the Sea King Blel-Plibbit. It ought to be quite an experience.”

“What are you going to say to him?” asks Velendo curiously.

“I’m not sure,” admits Shaw huskily. “I just want to meet him and learn about his kingdom. Maybe I’ll see you there?”

Nolin thinks of the fact that the kuo-toa Sea King is allied with the ghouls, and hides a frown. “Maybe. Be careful.”

Shaw laughs, showing his prominent tusks. “I always am. Not to worry, I’m a survivor.” He smiles and hefts his pack onto his broad shoulders as he turns to leave. His voice trails back. “I’ll speak to them about your passage as well.” Malachite gazes after him.

“I hope he’s not going to betray us.”

Mara laughs. “Not a chance. He was a nice guy. You worry too much.”

As the group splashes and wades from stall to stall, they subtly begin to gather rumors about the city of Glubyal. Nolin has just finished purchasing a lobster woman souvenier for his daughter when he meets up with the others. “Hey, you guys want some raw fish?” He has a fish-on-a-stick as a snack, flopping back and forth with dead eyes every time Nolin moves his hands.

“Eww, no!” Mara looks at it suspiciously as Stone Bear reaches forward to try a bite. Nolin has eaten about half of it.

“You don’t know what you’re missing,” the bard assures her. He flicks a speck of fish off of his golden battlecloak and takes it back from Stone Bear. “You should try new things, Mara. It’s got eel paste on it and everything, and it’s really tasty.”

Stone Bear raises his head, and Mara shivers as she looks into his eye sockets. “Nolin’s right,” the shaman agrees. “It’s quite good.”

Galthia catches Nolin’s eye and changes the subject. “What did you learn?”

“It’s like this,” Nolin explains. He raises his right hand, palm up. “They’re in the middle of an uprising. On one side is the Sea King Blel-Plibbit, the rightful ruler and supposed chosen mate of the Sea Mother, the Goddess Blibdoolpoolp herself. That’s probably just propaganda and part of the title, but we shouldn’t take chances. He’s been aiding and supplying the ghouls, giving them slaves and supplies and free passage in exchange for wealth and gifts.”

Mara snorts prettily. “Slaves and supplies are probably the same thing.”

“Exactly.” He raises his left hand, palm up, letting the fish-on-a-stick dangle. “Opposed to him is someone named Monitor Thoobel. As far as I can tell Thoobel was someone powerful in the hierarchy until he went completely insane. Now he’s claiming that the Sea King has betrayed Blibdoolpoolp by working with the ghouls. He’s led about a third of the city up in revolt, and wants to take the throne and crown for himself.”

Tao wrinkles her nose as an especially odiferous kuo-toa splashes past. “Sounds like that’s our man. Fish. Whatever.”

“I think you may be right, although he’s supposed to be less than stable.”

Malachite raises an eyebrow. “So? These creatures are evil and cruel. While we can’t wipe them out entirely, we can leave them destabilized. Even better, with Thoobel in charge they will be a bulwark against further ghoulish expansion.”

Velendo coughs. “Well, let’s see what happens. Maybe the Sea King will be a kind and reasonable individual, and he’ll gladly stop dealing with the White Kingdom.” Everyone laughs quietly. “Everyone remember why we’re going here in the first place?”

Nolin’s eyes glaze as he lowers his arms. “I hate stupid prophecies. I’ve decided that they don’t apply to me any more.”

Agar looks up at his friend. “Umm, I don’t think that’s your decision to make. When the earth spirit Silissa helped us, we effectively agreed to help rescue her sister from the Shrine of the Glass Pool, remember? Is that in Glubyal some place?”

Splinder the dwarf snorts. “It damn well better be,” he rumbles.

Nolin nods. “I believe it is, although I don’t have details yet. I think it’s in the middle of the city someplace. We’ll find the building, do what we need to do, and get the heck out of here.”

“So whadda we need to do there?”

“Remember? I’m not listening to prophecy, so I have no idea. Someone else can figure it out.”

Velendo sighs.

“We have to find and free Silissa’s sister. Maybe we can just ask the King for her, but I doubt it. We don’t know how she’s trapped or what she looks like; maybe she’s a slave, or chained up, or something. But Silissa was extremely powerful, so anything that can contain her sister probably isn’t going to be a pushover.”

Agar tugs on Galthia’s sleeve. “Err.. is it just me, or are we being watched by those kuo-toa?” Galthia glances over, and sees one of the kuo-toa guards staring at them with huge, unblinking fish eyes. The slime on its skin glistens in the rippling gray light.

“Yes, it’s watching us. Just ignore it.”

Agar gestures briefly, squints, and concentrates. “It doesn’t seem to be reading our minds, at least.”

“Let’s keep moving.” The group keeps moving as the stroll from stall to stall, splashing through the cold water. At a stall selling pearls, Priggle’s wrinkles become more pronounced as he frowns deeply. “Now there are two of them watching us. They probably hate deep gnomes. Or perhaps they love them, and want a change from a fish diet.”

Agar contradicts him. “Three. See that one over there?” As they talk, a fourth kuo-toa stops what it is doing and starts staring at the surface dwellers.

“I’ve had enough of this.” Malachite strides over towards them, but they turn and slowly move away. Malachite cuts one off and questions it in undercommon, but it says nothing, just staring at him unblinkingly. Frustrated, Malachite allows it to move on, but in a few minutes five or six kuo-toa have focused their attention on the group.

“That’s really annoying,” complains the Hunter of the Dead.

Nolin nods in agreement. “I tried to question a shop keeper. I think he suggested that we were strangers, so they don’t trust us. I don’t think it’s anything more sinister than that.”

Stone Bear lifts a sopping wet boot. “Let’s get out of their sight. What do you say we find a place to sleep for the night?”

* * *

There is no place to set up the Flickering Needle, their Daern’s Instant Fortress, and interdimensional spells like Calphas’ Comfortable Castle still don’t work. Thus, a half hour later finds the group dickering for lodging in one of the three cave-riddled inns that line the outer walls of Glig. Finally they slog up an upwards-sloping passageway and enter a dry stone room with not a bit of furniture in it. The grumbling dwarves head to their own rooms next door, and the Defenders of Daybreak sit down heavily on the hard floor once Velendo and Agar cast some wards on the open doorways. Nolin’s flaming hair and several magical items provide the only light. The flame quickly warms the cold and clammy air.

“You know,” says Velendo contemplatively as he looks looks briefly out into space, “I’d never have guessed I’d be here.” He empties the water out of one sodden boot, and starts wringing out his dripping socks.

“What do you mean?” asks Malachite as he loosens his armor. “Ahh, that’s better. Mara, let me help you with yours.”

“Ten years ago, I was the cleric of some little tiny village you’ve never heard of, and I’d never cast a miracle in my life. But Calphas had different plans for me.” He gazes up through miles of rock towards what must be the sky. “You did, didn’t you? Ha ha, very funny.” His guardian angel Cruciel materializes silently behind him as he continues. “And now, look where I am! Deep below the earth in a kuo-toa hotel, on my way to overthrow a city before continuing on to stop some horrible ghoulish empire.” The old man shakes his head. “It’s hard to credit. And stupidly enough, everyone thinks I’m some sort of saint.”

Silence, save for the crackling of the fire and the distant dripping of water. Then Tao says what everyone else is thinking. “Velendo? You are some kind of saint.”

“No I’m not! Stop saying that. You have to be dead to be a Saint.”

“You were a proxy of Calphas years ago, when the comet came and we stopped Imbindarla’s plan the first time,” points out Nolin in a reasonable tone of voice. “You were your God’s representative made flesh. I kind of think that counts.” The paladins nod in agreement.

“Oh yeah?” Velendo glares at them as he cracks his arthritic knuckles. He looks back up at the ceiling and addresses his God. “Well, what do You think? I know what You think. You think You’re pretty funny, that’s what.”

“You know,” says Cruciel from behind him, “we can hear you when you do that.” Velendo rounds on her with a panicked look on his face.

“You mean ‘we’ us, right?” he asks. “Those of us right here.”

Cruciel looks amused beneath her beatific expression. “No, ‘we’ the celestial host. When you pray or talk to your God, we can all hear.” Velendo’s eyes bulge.

“So every time..”

Clariel nods, with no trace of a smile. Her wings rustle against the stone. “Every time. Everyone quite enjoys you.” Velendo looks appalled.

“I didn’t think that… I hope that…” He swallows. “EVERY time?” He swallows again. “Ummm,” he begins uncomfortably. “Look, God, I hope that I haven’t been too… you know, frivolous or disrespectful. When I complain I’m not really…” He glances over at Cruciel, ignoring his fellow party members, all of whom are in silent hysterics on the stone floor. “Really?” There is a shred of disbelief in his query.

Cruciel cocks her head and spreads her wings. “Really, but don’t worry. Calphas loves you because of who you are, and in His way he keeps up his part of the conversation. If he disliked your talks with him, I’m sure he’d let you know.” Velendo begins to relax. “And the angels hardly gossip about you at all.” The old cleric’s head snaps back up, but Cruciel is staring idly into the fire of Nolin’s hair.

“Gossip?” His tone is plaintive. Velendo turns to glare at his friends, rolling back and forth with laughter. “Oh, shut up.”

* * *

The next day the group gets an early start, and is passed through a gate and sent towards Glubyal with remarkably little bureaucracy or trouble. They trot down a smooth and sloping tunnel, and talk about what challenges they might find ahead. Early on they pass a backwards and upwards-sloping side tunnel, but with some discussion and some trepidation they decide not to investigate… especially when Tao confirms that there aren’t any tracks near it. In fact, the only tracks she finds in the main tunnel are probably Shaw’s.

Hours into the trek, always traveling downwards, Nolin stops the group with an upraised hand. “Shhh!” he cautions and turns around to face the tunnel they’ve descended. A sharp breeze has risen, blowing back his burning hair, and a dull rumble can be felt. “What’s that?”

“Treachery,” mouths Malachite in disappointment, but he doesn’t sound surprised. Beside him Stone Bear vanishes into the stone floor of the tunnel, even as other members of the group brace themselves for whatever monster or trap may appear down the long tunnel. Velendo peers into the darkness with his 60’ of darkvision, a prayer on his lips, ready to cast as soon as he sees what approaches.

Really, he doesn’t expect it to be a solid wall of water moving at almost 70 miles an hour. That’s something of a surprise, because it’s moving far faster than he had anticipated.

“Flash flood!” someone shouts, but Velendo has already begun his prayer.

“Calphas, help me bring forth a Wall of Forbltht! Blb! Achblblthbthblthhggablthbthlbth!” Before he can finish the spell, the water smashes into him – into everyone – and he is thrown backwards and swept along, the breath crushed from his lungs.

To be continued….
 
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Piratecat

Sesquipedalian
End over end, they are slammed into the tunnel floor before being picked up like rag dolls and flung forwards. Each of the Defenders of Daybreak is spun and flipped and crushed by the onrushing wall of water, borne down the tunnel by a juggernaut that no one can resist.

Agar manages to grab a breath of air before the water hits him, and it isn’t all knocked out of him by the time he gets his bearings. Blinded and scared, he begins, “I wish that thiblubll gribthubbl!” The vicissitudes of the water choose that instant to smash him against a helpless dwarf’s spiky armor, and the powerful spell is lost. You know, I’ve got a spell that could have helped me concentrate, thinks Agar disconsolately as the water picks him back up and whips him downstream. Guess I should have cast that first.

Tao’s first instinct is to fight back the pain and cast gate. She tries to decide whether to cast it downstream, carrying them all safely to the Beastlands, or to cast it upstream and carry away the vast flow of the water. I guess it doesn’t really matter, she reasons. At the moment I have no idea which end is up. She makes her best guess and reaches out her spirit to form the portal. The spell requires perfect concentration, though, and hers is disrupted when an undertow scrapes her face along the rough tunnel wall for fifteen feet. Tao’s blood mixes with the energy of the spell as its essence is lost. Galthia spins past her too fast to grab, and then she’s swept back into the heart of the water's current.

Meanwhile, Stone Bear feels the vibration in the stone from where he has melded with the earth. He is safe, but has no idea how to escape without drowning. Worse, the other members of the group have been swept away, and there is far too much chaos on the mindlink to get anyone’s attention.

Nolin realizes that there is no way he can fight the water, so he grasps the wrist of a passing dwarf and hangs on for the ride. I bet this is really going to hurt when it stops, he thinks grimly to himself. I might as well try to save anyone that I can. Malachite and Mara are thinking the same, but their heavy armor effectively cripples them in the water, and they tumble helplessly downstream. Mara rolls her eyes and silently activates her armor’s magical power of etherealness. She first found the armor years ago outside the time-frozen tower of Congenio Ioun, and has only used the etherealness power a handful of times. Nevertheless, she’s surprised when the furious water is replaced by howling storm winds.

“Darn it!” Mara has to shout to hear herself. “Imbindarla’s death has messed up the planes, and I forgot!” She feels herself picked up by the ethereal tempest and blown to the side, droplets of water spinning off into nothingness. “I can’t lose sight of the tunnel,” she says to herself in horror. “Don’t panic. Just make your way back. Slow and steady.” The mist howls and she feels spirits spiraling past her, shrieking. She ignores them and keeps moving, crouching down and putting one foot in front of the other. She tries to reach the others mentally, but the planar boundary has cut her off from the mindlink.

Velendo notices her absence, and wonders if she’s dead, but there’s little he can do about it if she is. First he uses his remaining air to activate his necklace of waterbreathing. It only works for an hour per day, but that’s more than enough time. With breathing no longer a problem, he focuses his faith and pumps a burst of divine energy into his magical shield. It locks in place as he does so, just like an immovable rod, and a cry of pain emerges from him as his shoulder dislocates. Cruciel emerges from his shadow and steadies him, blocking the current with her body in order to give him a chance to cast.

“Velendo?” thinks Tao, as she wracks her brain for some way to save herself. “Are you all right?”

“Well enough,” he thinks grimly, and steadied by Cruciel and his shield he casts a flexible wall with a 2’ tall gap along the bottom. The inexorable crush of the flood ceases, and for hundreds of feet down the tunnel dwarves and humans lay strewn about like discarded pearls from a broken necklace. They gasp for air, the conscious helping the unconscious, and soon they’ve gathered once more about fifty feet downstream from the magical wall. Velendo casts a mass heal, and they do a head count.

“We’ve got all the dwarves, the bullywug, both lizards, the horse… but we’re still missing Mara,” worries the elderly cleric. “At least Stone Bear is all right. I’ve told him that when his spell expires, he should ride the current out through the bottom of my wall. He’ll be able to catch up with us. I don’t know about Mara, though. She might be dead.” He looks around, as if expecting her water-swollen corpse to pop up out of nowhere.

“She’s not dead.” Malachite shakes his dark hair out of his eyes and replaces his helm. “I’d know.” And in fact, they all feel her snap back into the mindlink as Mara finds the tunnel and phases back into the real world.

“Is everyone okay?” Mara’s mental voice is worried. “I made a bad mistake, but I’m no worse for wear.”

“We’re fine. We’ll join you in a few minutes.” Out loud, Velendo adds, “This wall is only going to last for about an hour. We better get going. That’s a lot of water back there, and I want to be somewhere safe when this goes.”

“I’ll meet you soon,” thinks Stone Bear from his safe haven beneath the tunnel floor, and the rest of the heroes hurry downstream. They are wading through knee-high water, which makes balancing difficult, and they’re forced to move more slowly than they’d like. Worse, something alive was carried by the flood.

“Ouch!” Blue electricity crackles around Malachite as something connects with his foot.

“Electric eels? I’m starting to think that I don’t especially like kuo-toa,” remarks Nolin sardonically. Galthia pauses, snakes his hand downwards faster than the eye can follow, and comes up with an oversized bluish lobster. It emits, and electricity sparks through Galthia’s body. His hair stands on end.

“No,” the githzerai monk says, shaking his smarting hand. “Some sort of magical shellfish.” He crushes it effortlessly. Behind him, the dwarven troops suddenly start some sort of elaborate dance, with two dwarves spotting and two dwarves spearing in every four person assault group. An occasional “BZZZP!” can be heard, accompanied by rich dwarven oaths that sizzle the air.

“You know something?” comments Nolin to no one in particular. “I really, really hate this place.”

Tao spares Nolin a grunt of assent, but concentrates on the problem at hand. “Splinder, you have things under control?” she asks, worried. Her slippers of water walking, looted years ago from the dead arch-mage Mirata du’Chemith, allow her to stand atop the water without even dimpling it.

“Never better,” bellows Splinder from the nearby darkness. “The boys are just working off a bit of frustration. I think they’re looking forward to something they can hit.”

“Well, there’ll be plenty of those,” predicts Tao. Meanwhile, Agar examines the dead lobster-thing.

“This isn’t very interesting,” he says with a sniff. “Needs more tentacles. Like… this!” Casting a powerful summoning spell, he whispers unspeakable words into the depths, and the oceans gladly answer. A hideously tentacular water elemental rises from beneath the shallow water and awaits the diminuitive halfling’s bidding. “Hi there!” says Agar cheerfully. “Will you please kill anything that looks like this?” He holds out the dead creature, and the elemental bows before him. It abruptly splashes down and disappears.

“Err. Is it gone?” asks Priggle. Forty feet behind him, a sudden watery pseudopod launches one of the lobster-things into the ceiling, smashing it before dropping it back into the stream.

“Nope.” Agar shakes out some dry tobacco into his pipe, lights it, and whistles as he strolls through the watery tunnel. On his shoulder, Proty keeps time with a tentacle.

* * *

Stone Bear swims upwards through the stone, emerging from the familiar rock into the icy cold water. He swims as quickly as possible downstream. Soon the current grabs him and carries him along, scraping him along the bottom of the cave as it sweeps him forward. About the same time as his vision is going red and his lungs are bursting, he feels a burst of speed and is spit forth past the magical wall. The shaman pulls himself to his feet. Better catch up with the others.

* * *

“So, do you think Shaw betrayed us?” Tao dances along on top of the water, letting Agar ride atop her riding lizard. Mara shakes her head.

“No, I hope not. Maybe they tortured something out of him, or perhaps those kuo-toa back in Glig sent some sort of message along. We shouldn’t blame him until we know.” Malachite looks at her darkly, but says nothing.

“Hang on,” announces Velendo. “That other magical wall is going to fall any minute. I better put up a more permanent barrier. This one should last for almost a day; if the water hasn’t drained out by then, we have bigger troubles.”

“Leave room for Stone Bear,” reminds Mara. “He’s almost caught up.”

* * *

The shaman lopes along the watery tunnel. He doesn’t mind the dark, because his eyes were sacrificed long ago, and he doesn’t mind being alone, because he always has his spirits with him. Even now, they whisper to him.

The dead live here, hisses Elder. This is my land. The others will fade, but I will always be with you. I am eternal.

“Then why do you talk in riddles?” asks Stone Bear. He feels a vibration somewhere behind him, a quickening of the air. Uh oh. The first wall must have fallen.

I’m not used to speaking to your kind while they’re still alive, admits the spirit. Why do you even bother with life? Death is the natural state of things. Life is a mistake, one easily remedied. Stone Bear ignores him and quickens his pace, legs pistoning through the water as he sprints forward. There’s definitely a rumble from behind, and he breaths a silent thanks to his ancestors when Velendo’s second wall comes within range of his preternatural senses.

Stone Bear thinks that his nature spirit guide, Bear, may also be trying to talk, but he’s too faint to be made out over the blood pounding in his temples. Elder continues whispering loudly, drowning Bear out as it keens in anticipation. For instance, why do you run? I have learned patience over eons. And yet you hurry, hurry, like the maggot afraid that the meat will disappear. You shouldn’t fear what is behind you. You should fear what is yet to come. The rumbling increases and Stone Bear suddenly knows that there is a solid wall of water just behind him, rushing forward with crushing force. He ignores the spirit and leaps forward, twisting his body in mid air and rolling sideways under the narrow gap left between the wall and the cavern floor. Just behind him, the wall of water slams impotently against the magical barrier, spending its fury on something other than his own soft flesh.

Stone Bear sits up, breath ragged, and shakes the water from his clothing. “I run because I’m not an idiot,” he says, and forces the death spirit away from him. Wading through the renewed stream of water, he hurries to join the others.

To be continued…
 
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Piratecat

Sesquipedalian
Plane Sailing said:
Are they not glad the tunnel didn't contain a bladed grid to dash them against and dice them upon?

Err.... whistles casually you mean the three barbed, razor-sharp coral portcullises that are going to show up in the next update? The ones that the water is supposed to smash victims against, grinding them until they drown and are split into chunks that are then swept through the gratings? Those grids?

Ummm.. right. None of those at all. Continues whistling, this time more innocently.

I believe the water - and there's a whole reservoir of water back there - did about 8d6 on impact, plus a certain amount each round depending on your swim check. Concentration checks for trying to cast while being swept away were ludicrously high, although Agar and Tao would have made them if they hadn't tried such high-level spells. Being slammed against the razor-sharp gates would do another initial 7d6 plus 4d6 per round.

And as you'll see, if they had somehow managed to circumvent the gates but were still being carried by the water, they would have been swept right out of the tunnel into a several-hundred-foot deep abyss.

Ouchie.

Hey, thanks again to everyone who helped me with fluid dynamics!!
 

KidCthulhu

First Post
Piratecat said:
Hey, thanks again to everyone who helped me with fluid dynamics!!

Yeah. Thanks a whole freakin' lot. Please report to the line of angry players located in the game room for your congratulatory pummeling.

Stupid fluid dynamics.
 

Wulf Ratbane

Adventurer
Piratecat said:
I believe the water - and there's a whole reservoir of water back there - did about 8d6 on impact, plus a certain amount each round depending on your swim check. Concentration checks for trying to cast while being swept away were ludicrously high, although Agar and Tao would have made them if they hadn't tried such high-level spells. Being slammed against the razor-sharp gates would do another initial 7d6 plus 4d6 per round.

So in retrospect Stone Bear was wise, not callous or cowardly, to so quickly abandon the Defenders?

Piratecat: "You hear a rumbling behind you..."
Stone Bear: "I meld with stone."
Other players, "What kind of rumbling..."
Stone Bear thinks, "Ain't no kind of rumbling behind you that issues forth from a kuo-toa city can be a good thing..."
 


Sialia

First Post
Ahh . . . I never can be leavin' well enough alone.

Here 'tis again, mates.

New and improved.

Belike.



(edit--Bandeeto (aka the aforementioned Apoocalypse) didna like the all black background any better than the all white. How's goes the thesis, Sialia? Swimmingly. That's why i'm screwing around with illustrations instead of writing. That's "Swimmingly" as in, "my what a lot of sharks there are hereabouts, and why am I wearing these concrete Birkies . . ? ")
 

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Sialia

First Post
Ok, I hope nobody sues me over this. It's just for fun. Right? I am not intending to infringe on any copyright, or derive any profit from this. I apologize in advance if anybody feels that their intellectual property is being misused, and if you drop me one of those politely threatening notes letting me know it concerns you, I will be sure to remove this immediately, or post credits for the trademarks and design that you specify, ok?

ok.

My close personal friend Piratecat dropped me a line asking me to distract you while he's away. Really, he did.

In lieu of the illustration of KidCthulhu performing a fan dance, here is the most distracting thing I could think of, off the top of my head.
 

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Piratecat

Sesquipedalian
Soggy but resolute, the large group splashes downstream towards the kuo-toa city of Glubyal. They soon come to the first of three coral portcullises that block the tunnel. The barbed gates are designed to let water through, but it’s apparent that the combination of high-pressure water and razor-sharp coral would quickly chew the flesh off of any victim unlucky enough to be pinned against them. “Like a cheese grater,” laments Priggle dejectedly as he and Mara begin to tunnel around the gates.

“They’re certainly serious,” muses Tao. “We haven’t even done anything to them yet.”

“The key word being ‘yet,’” quips Nolin prophetically. Malachite cracks his knuckles in agreement.

“I’m not sure we need to show a lot of patience for someone who would crush us, drown us, and slice us up. We should be cautious, though; we don’t know who set us up, or why, and I’d rather not accuse the wrong person.” In its sheath, Karthos quivers in agreement.

Helmet under one arm as she rests, Mara runs her fingers through her damp blond hair. “Well, right now I’m guessing that the Sea King of the Kuo-Toa is responsible. He’s the one who is in allegiance with the ghouls, right?”

“Right. But he may have been lied to. Just don’t jump to conclusions.”

“I’m all about jumping to conclusions.” Tao stretches, cat-like, and idly flicks a leech at the wall. “So what do we do when we get down there? Do we say, ‘Hi, Mister Sea King. We want to go to your sacred shrine and free some elemental spirit you have trapped there. You don’t mind, do you?’ ‘Cause I’m not sure he’s going to be really enthusiastic about that plan.”

“I don’t know.” Velendo splashes his shield down into the stream and leans on it heavily. “Maybe. We can also make contact with that rebel, what’s-his-name…”

“Thoobel,” Nolin supplies helpfully. “Monitor Thoobel.”

“Right. Thoobel. All those names sound alike to me.”

“I think they’re named so that you can talk to them while drowning. Or maybe they name their babies by grabbing them, shoving them underwater, and listening to what they say.”

Tao frowns. “I think Glibstone had a joke about that. Let me see.” She fishes out the book of jokes he gave her, and nods. “Oh, there was one, but it’s dirty. Here’s one; what sound does a dwarf make while falling down stairs? CLANGEDDIN Clangeddin clangeddin…” She laughs, along with the dwarven troops. “I miss the old guy.”

“Anyways,” continues Velendo, determined not to be distracted, “Thoobel might be a person to ally with. We’ll have to see.”

“I don’t mean to interrupt,” interrupts Priggle as he emerges from the narrow tunnel he’s excavating, “but I think I just heard the sound of fighting ahead.”

Nolin rushes forward, and sure enough his keen ears pick up a faint grunt and the clang of metal. The adventurers quickly ready their weapons while the dwarves cover them, presenting a score of dwarven crossbows that are each cocked and aimed through the coral gates.

They wait for a few breathless seconds for something to appear. Instead of an enemy, though, they all see the third portcullis lurching upward as it unevenly begins to rise towards the ceiling.

Splinder waves his arm and hisses an order. While everyone else fades back into the shadows of the tunnel, Galtian and Priggle creep forwards surreptitiously and peek out without being seen. They glance down into a cavernous gorge which lies directly beyond the gates, where the stone tunnel that they’ve been following vanishes straight down into an abyss of unknowable depth. Only a highly defensible ledge snakes around the gorge to the right, eventually ending in a slender bridge that spans the gulf like a stone rainbow. Galthia silently reports to the rest of the group over the mindlink.

“Good thing we didn’t do this the hard way. If we had managed to open all three portcullises while drowning, the water would have carried us off a cliff instead.”

Velendo snorts and and rolls his eyes. “Overkill.”

Galthia continues. “There are a number of dead kuo-toa out here. There are about ten live ones as well, all of whom are straining to turn a giant wheel.” He gestures at the slowly rising portcullis. “They’re either letting us out or coming in after us.”

“Well, it’s either our enemies or their enemies, but it’s a good sign that they already eliminated their competition. Ready to greet them?” Mara’s smile is bright. Malachite’s hand hovers over his sword hilt, but without drawing the weapon he turns with the others and ducks under the still-rising gate.

Nolin calls out a greeting. “Hello?”

One of the kuo-toa turns. They see a paunchy, foul-smelling fish man whose goggling eyes take them all in without blinking. It flicks some slime from its webbed fingers in a ritual gesture and wobbles its head. “Gloobel boolboolb?” it asks.

“I’m sorry, no, we don’t speak your language,” answers Nolin.

“Slibdobollup. Then I will speak yours.” The fish-thing speaks in a fair version of under-common, but with a heavy accent. Its voice is male and deeply pitched, echoing roundly from its sunken chest. The creature is taller than a man, and its wiry muscles give the impression of latent speed and power.

It gives a grimace that could possibly be construed as a grin. “I am pleased to see that you have survived. When my spies learned that you were to be killed, we rushed to do what we could.” His webbed fingers come up and tug on the corner of his lipless mouth, leaving a faint trace of slime on the cold skin. For an instant the kuo-toa looks just like a hooked fish, but the image vanishes as he gestures at the stream coming from the tunnel. “There was not much water, we saw, so we removed the false King’s guards. We will need to return them to the Sea Mother and sink back to Glubyal before Blel-plibbit realizes our success.”

He turns to wave a hand at his minions, and the other kuo-toa begin to toss their dead enemies into the bottomless chasm by their feet. The leader bobbles his rounded head in satisfaction.

“Wait a moment,” says Malachite. “Why did you want to help us?”

The kuo-toa turns and silently studies him with unblinking eyes. “Because the false King wished you dead. I do not know why, but if he would empty the reservoir to kill to cleanly and quickly, with no fuss, then you are someone who must be of help to me. He fears me, and would deny me any weapon. So I am fishing; I am hoping that you will be worth the trouble of the catch. If you are salesmen, then I have made a mistake.”

“And you are?”

He bobbles his head again. “I am Monitor Thoobel. I am humble in the eyes of the Sea Mother, but I have floated to lead all those who can truly see the corruption of the King. He is supposed to be the mate of the Sea Mother, the fertilizer of our people, the tide that carries our souls!” Thoobel’s fervent voice is tinged with obsession. “Instead he dallies with ghouls and mind flayers, and makes trades with those who would hurt our folk. The blessing of the Sea Mother has left him, if only he could see it, and it is time he passed the Crown of Tides to one who truly deserves it.” Thoobel’s sunken chest puffs with pride. “Perhaps that will be me. More than a third of our people follow me. They give their lives for what I believe in and would die for the cause… just as I would die for the cause.” He studies the group as if expecting them to volunteer for Dying Duty, but no one does, so Thoobel turns to go.

“Come. We will smuggle you into the city.” Everyone exchanges worried glances, shrugs, and begins to follow him.

“Oh goody,” mumbles Nolin. “Ghouls AND mind flayers.”

Malachite pauses, eyeing the path in front of him.

“Do we have to cross that bridge?”

The kuo-toa turns impatiently, and waves its fins. “Yes.”

“I can’t.”

Mara turns to him. “I didn’t know you were afraid of heights.”

Malachite looks exasperated. “I’m not. That bridge is about two feet wide, though, and I’ll never make it across in my armor. I just can’t balance well enough.” People begin to grin, and Malachite frowns. “Look, we’ve had this discussion before. The armor isn’t made for balance. I can’t make it over that bridge without falling.”

OOC conversation: ----> “Wait, what’s Malachite’s balance check?” “Something like a -11. If I take 10, I think I’m at -1. You see my point.” “Holy crap! How do you even walk down the street? You’d go ‘step step aieee crash clatter clatter ow.’ Remind me not to walk behind you.”

Rope, caution, and a flying warhorse simplify the crossing. Soon a score of dwarves, a dozen kuo-toa and two handfuls of adventurers troupe downwards farther into the depths of the earth. Over the next few hours they pass deserted sentry points.

“What happened to the troops commanding those?” asks Nolin. Thoobel swivels his head to look at him; Nolin catches the reflection of his own burning hair in the glistening eyes.

“We killed them.”

“Oh.” Note to self, thinks Nolin. Don’t piss off Thoobel.

The downwards-sloping tunnel eventually winds down to a cave opening, through which a strong and damp breeze is blowing. Thoobel gestures with a webbed hand.

“Glubyal,” he burbles simply. There is both pride and hatred in his voice.

The glimmering city spreads below out before them, but at first glance it doesn’t appear to be a city at all. Instead it looks more like a giant nautilus, a vast chambered shell that spirals around and fills the huge cavern. Examined more carefully, it appears that the walls and outer defenses of Glubyal are constructed from coral, and that many of the buildings and domiciles must be contained beneath the coral outer palisades. Still, it is hard to shake the feeling that the city before them is itself somehow alive, as it wallows half-submerged in the salty waters of the sunless sea.

“How many people live here?” asks Priggle, wonderingly.

“More than ten thousand. I control the southern end of the outer city.”

A lightning bolt flares beneath them down a long curving ramp, and Thoobel’s eyes flicker. “A few less, now. I had left my own people here to guard our return. Blel-Plibbit’s guard has found them. They are under attack. You can all swim underwater, yes?” The group exchanges worried glances.

“Uh… for how long?”

“Not long. A half hour or so, no more.”

Velendo shakes his head. “No, we can’t. Not today.” Thoobel looks annoyed at the surface dwellers for an instant, but his stolid expression quickly returns.

“Then my people will die while I find transportation for you.” He turns to dive off the ramp into the water below.

“Wait! We’d like to help in the fight.”

Thoobel considers for only a second. “Yes. I will be back within moments. Do not leave this place unless you must.” He dives over the side and hits the water far below.

The fight is brief and bloody. Keeping to the high ground on the ramp, the dwarves have an excellent field of view, and they pump volley after volley into the thirty or so loyalist troops that have risen from the dark water. “How do we tell th’ good fish from th’ bad fish?” shouts one dwarf to his sergeant.

“Th’ good fish aren’t tryin’ t’ kill you!” shouts back the other dwarf.

Agar casts a fireball into the rear of the melee, and is surprised when a number of chanting, praying kuo-toa in the water all point their fins at him. A narrow lightning bolt forms between them and crackles out. Agar is struck square on the chest and flung backwards as blue rivulets of electricity shiver around his body.

“They can cast lightning,” he gasps. Proty soars around him in agitation.

Splinder glances down the ramp. “Most of the friendly kuo-toa are dead, and more troops have emerged from the water. They’re advancing.”

To be continued…
 
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Well, I just did the ones who had pics by Dave Hendee, because they were easiest to find. I also did a bonus card for Morningstar from Sagiro's storyhour.

Tell me if you think they're okay, and if you're old-school Magic players, forgive the new format; they updated it so the art box is bigger and the text is easier to read.
 

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Piratecat

Sesquipedalian
“Brrribbit!”

With a tremendous spring, the bullywug gladiator Burr-Lipp whom Malachite had saved in Akin’s Throat leaps over the line of kuo-toa warriors, using his momentum to jam his longspear entirely through an enemy’s torso. A pincher staff snares him, dragging the bullywug to the ground.

“Don’t let him get surrounded!” Malachite advances down the ramp with Tao and Mara, the two radiant knights of Aeos forming a miniature shield wall around the divine agent of Galanna. Their swords and maces flash, darting back and forth in an intricate dance of pain, and any enemy in reach tumbles down into bloody ruin. The kuo-toa burble in alarm. Stone Bear and Galthia also tumble into battle, beating back kuo-toa who had thought to try and slip behind the main rank of fighters. Within seconds, they’ve freed Burr-Lipp from the crush of attackers.

“Watch out! I’m going to flame strike them!” shouts Nolin.

“Wait!” Tao yells back, even as she twists her second longsword up to gut a kuo-toa. “No flashy spells. We don’t want them to know we’re here.”

Nolin pauses, thunderstruck, and looks at Tao as if she was dropped on her head as an infant. “Don’t want them to know we’re here? Tao, they just threw a lightning bolt at us. I think they’ve figured it out.”

Velendo lays a hand on the bard’s shoulder. “I think she means that we don’t want them to know that we have such powerful magic. Flame Strike can be seen from a long ways away. It may need to come as a surprise later.”

“Ohhhkay,” says Nolin dubiously, and instead launches into an inspiring song comparing kuo-toa to gaffed fish. His words embolden his allies, and the next volley of dwarven crossbows finds quite a few targets. Nolin just sings more enthusiastically.

Down below, another squad of kuo-toa emerges from the oily water, and Agar shakes his head. Giving Proty a knowledgeable look, Agar calls forth unspeakable words as he plunges his hands deeply into the coils of the magic swirling around him. As he does so, jet black tentacles spring forth from the stone in response, whipping like eels around the advancing kuo-toa.

“Ah,” says Nolin knowledgeably. “Evard’s Black Testicles.”

Agar just grins happily as his spell takes effect. Many of the chanting kuo-toa are caught in the pitch-black tentacles, and the lightning bolt that their utterances have been building instead sputters away into the water. Within a minute, only the toughest kuo-toa troops are still left alive, and Priggle’s sharp eyes pick out Monitor Thoobel poling a longboat back towards their location at the side of the cavern.

“Here comes our ride,” says Priggle, but no one hears him. He tries again. “I said, Thoobel is returning.” Nothing.

“Oh, Thoobel’s coming!” Nolin also sees the boat, and his words immediately catch everyone’s attention. Priggle sighs, unnoticed once again.

“Just.. a.. minute!” Caught by a deadly kuo-toa pincher staff, Malachite flexes his muscles to stop from being fully grappled, and Mara swings her mace into the tired kuo-toa’s belly. It continues out the far side, and the creature falls away as the pincher staff clatters to the stone ramp. “Okay. We’re ready.”

One of Thoobel’s assistants glubs to Nolin, who translates. “He says that more of the Sea King’s troops are probably on the way, so we should move. He’ll probably be very angry that we survived.”

Tao rolls her eyes. “I feel for him. Really, I do.”

Nolin laughs. “Liar. Hey, look!” He points up towards an odd sight. About fifty feet above the water, hanging in empty air, is a statue of some great human warrior. It is hard to tell in the poor light, but it looks like a statue of a man that was once seated on a horse. The horse is long gone, now, and the statue just dangles in mid-air.

“Odd.” No one has time to thoroughly investigate, though, for they hurry down the stone ramp onto the long flatboat that Monitor Thoobel has just poled into position. The armored Defenders rock the boat somewhat as they board, but within seconds Thoobel has pushed off and is poling the boat out into the wide canal surrounding the city. Dead kuo-toa bodies are emotionlessly pushed aside by his pole, and the corpses bob silently on the current, their bulging dead eyes silently condemning the Defenders even as the carcasses are carried downstream around Glubyal and out into the Sunless Sea.

The longboat passes over a foul-smelling current of effluvient carried out of the city by the tide, and then without warning the boat… sinks. Several people begin to panic, but the air begins to sparkle, and it’s quickly apparent that a bubbling sphere of oxygenated air has surrounded the boat. “For visitors,” burbles Thoobel. “Traders who come from afar. Usually drow.”

The boat moves underwater through the gloom of the canal and turns right into a series of winding, narrow coral passages just barely large enough to maneuver through. Thoobel never speaks a word, but everyone gets the impression that he fears that the group is being followed; certainly, the winding and circuitous route he takes is too complex for even Tao to memorize. The defenses of Glubyal slowly become apparent. The kuo-toa city has been carved or built out of stinging coral, and the maze-like passages into the city are riddled with bolt-holes and dead ends. An invading force would have a tremendously difficult time trying to invade. Thoobel even asks Agar to disintegrate a coral wall in front of him, which he later seals up with a wand once the boat has moved through. After fifteen or twenty minutes, Thoobel steers the boat upwards, and it surfaces along a broad and largely deserted promenade.

The Defenders of Daybreak step off of their craft onto dry land, damp and cold. Velendo can’t help notice that in addition to the construction here looking run down, there is absolutely no decoration on any of the buildings. None at all; no decorative carvings, no statues, no murals, nothing. It is almost intimidating in its squat and ugly sameness, and the alien nature of the structures puts everyone on edge. The Monitor leads the group through an oblong doorway, down a spiral staircase and through innumerable round tunnels into a large, water-filled basement. Wide stone platforms rise from the water like stepping stones in a stream, and the group plops themselves down on one of these to relax. As above, the are no decorations whatsoever, and only huge luminescent slugs provide illumination. “I will send a slave with food and drink,” burbles Monitor Thoobel, waving his webbed fingers expressively. “A human slave, to make you feel welcome. You are safe here.”

“Thank you,” says Velendo. “You have human slaves?” He tries to sound polite.

“Oh, yes! Very good. I only have those I could free from Blel-Plibbit. I am much better than he, and kill many less. They love me, and obey quickly, as they should.”

Velendo swallows drily, careful not to offend just yet. “I’m sure. Where are we right now?”

Monitor Thoobel crouches down, rapidly tracing a map on the stone with a wet finger. “This is my part of the city, the southern edge” he says. “From here, I will conquer all of Glubyal, but only to remove the false king from power!”

“False king?”

“Oh, yes.” Thoobel sounds deadly earnest. “”Blel-Plibbit has no right to rule. I saw this when I was a bodyguard to him in the Palace of the Sea Mother. He abuses his power, sells away the heritage of our people, spawns with breeders who are not worthy of his seed. He is dangerous to all of us. I will remove him, and perhaps the Sea Mother will find me worthy to replace him. If not, I will help raise the successor, and teach him in the proper things that a true king should know.” Thoobel’s eyes glint crazily in the gray light.

“I’m sure you will,” responds Nolin politely. “Say, have you ever heard of the Shrine of the Glass Pool?”

“Oh, yes,” nods Thoobel’s scaly head, and traces a new location on his rough map. “It is in the royal plaza in front of the palace, and it is sacred to the Sea Mother. It is not truly glass, you know, but is instead ice that has been polished to a mirror sheen. The shrine is the heart of the sacrifice pool, and the Sea Mother sees all that happens there.”

“Oh, great,” moans Priggle, but Thoobel is still talking.

“The false Sea King Blel-Plibbit goes there for inspiration, as have the Sea Kings before him. He speaks to Blibdoolpoolp there, and she whispers to him of oracles and great visions. This is not information that he should have!” Thoobel’s eyes harden and his voice rises. “I should be the one who hears the voices, as I have heard them before! They told me I couldn’t, you know. They thought to imprison me in a jail where others had also learned the truth. But the truth can not be contained, and I showed them the error of their beliefs. Now they are being judged by the Sea Mother, and she has freed me to do her will.”

Everyone draws a little bit away from him, but he doesn’t seem to notice. He raises one fist above his head and shakes it as his mouth gapes and sputters.

“The depth of my faith fills the fathoms, even as my artists have endeavored to show the Sea Mother of my abundant worship! I freed the others who had seen as I do, and now we lead the righteous rebellion. I am pleased,” his voice calms abruptly into gentle tones, “that you have chosen to assist us. For that you will be blessed in the great deep, and the sacrifice of your lives will bring about great changes.”

Tao gives him a look. “You know, we might not die while helping you,” she ventures.

Thoobel gives her a toothy smile and a knowing look. “Indeed.” He bows slightly and withdraws from the room, turning at the doorway. “I will bring you a true map of the palace area, including the Spawning Pools and the Shrine of the Glass Pool. Perhaps it will be helpful.” His head disappears, and he is gone.

“What makes us think,” asks Stone Bear quietly, “that we’re helping the right one?”

“Well, he isn’t the one allied with the ghouls,” grumbles Mara. “But I see your point.” She pries one of her boots off, and wrinkles her nose as she starts picking off swollen leeches from her ankles. “Yuck.”

“I think we should just kill all of them.”

“That would be genocide.”

“It would also destabilize this place. I like having an ally in charge here, even a crazy one, but I like having no one in charge even more. That way they can fight amongst themselves, and stop taking human slaves.”

I agree,” says Malachite coldly, “and we’re going to have to do something about that.”

“So what is this place?” wonders Galthia, looking around the room. “I can’t determine its function.”

“Probably a mess hall,” says Stone Bear with a straight face, “where they eat visitors.” His raven launches itself from his shoulder, flaps down next to Mara, and eagerly gulps down each leech that is offered to it by the paladin. Behind her, her war horse Luminor whickers in comfort.

They are interrupted by the sound of splashing, as frothy water begins to pour into the large room through pipes set in the walls. Carried on the water are dozens of wriggling, squirming fish-things the size of puppies. “Fingerlings!” exclaims Nolin in surprise. “I’ve heard of these. They’re baby kuo-toa. We must be in some sort of playroom for the kuo-toa spawn. Usually, they’re only fertilized in quantity by the King. I’m guessing that if these belong to Thoobel, he really does have delusions of Kingliness.”

“That was obvious.” Stone Bear gets an odd look on his face. As Nolin begins singing to the fingerlings, they all splash over and surround the platform, wriggling in their own slime and reacting to the bard’s song. Stone Bear reaches down and scoops one up, sliding it into a sack at his waist. He reaches down again and grabs two more, placing one in a pouch and one into the folds of a small bag. The fingerlings don’t seem to mind, but everyone stares at Stone Bear.

“What are you doing?”

The shaman raises his eyebrows over dark and empty eye sockets, and casually shrugs. “Taking some insurance with us." He smiles. "I'm going to strap these little guys onto my body. If we’re going to have to assault the heart of the kuo-toa city today or tomorrow, it won’t hurt to have some baby shields.”

To be continued…
 
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Jeph

First Post
Don't the others have, like, you know, moral problems with this? I mean, the enemies are kuo-toa and thoroughly evil, but sinking to the same level as those pirates in the sewers of Eversink is just...morally bankrupt.

And Stone Bear wasn't even there.
 

Wulf Ratbane

Adventurer
Jeph said:
Don't the others have, like, you know, moral problems with this? I mean, the enemies are kuo-toa and thoroughly evil, but sinking to the same level as those pirates in the sewers of Eversink is just...morally bankrupt.

And Stone Bear wasn't even there.

Well now in my defense, I don't think I actually used the words "baby shields," though I must admit that was my transparent intent. But I was having too much fun saying, "Fingerlings" to call them anything but.

Oh yeah... The only thing worse than the thought that "Elder is Wulf Ratbane" is "Elder is Wulf Ratbane through a Piratecat prism."

I don't want to think about that... Stone Bear is Stone Bear and Wulf is just a sig, now.


Wulf
 

Bloodsparrow

First Post
Wulf Ratbane said:
But I was having too much fun saying, "Fingerlings" to call them anything but.

Any race with a word for "child" that makes them sound like a dish you would order at a sports bar, deserves to have them used as shields...
 
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Wulf Ratbane

Adventurer
wolff96 said:
I love the "Fingerling Shield" idea... it's so much fun to see Piratecat's own evil twisted back on him. Although I'm not sure if the paladins will let Stone Bear get away with this one...

It wasn't so much "HEY! I gots me some baby shields!" as,

"It wouldn't hurt to have a few of Thoobel's brood with me, just in case things go bad, and if things go very bad, no matter how bad that bad is, at least these few kuo-toa are going with me."

It seemed more War inspired at the moment than Elder inspired. I swear.


Wulf
 

Kestrel

Explorer
Smells like...Night Below!

I ran Night Below about 5 years ago. It was a great adventure. I love the way you're incorporating the kuotoa city from it into your ongoing campaign. Great stuff as always PirateCat!
 

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