Piratecat's Updated Story Hour! (update 4/03 and 4/06)
- Status
Bloodsparrow
First Post
Hey... Look what I found on the WotC website!
Can you guess what it is?
Hmmm?
It's a Marching Modron.
Can you guess what it is?
Hmmm?
It's a Marching Modron.
Last edited:
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?
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.
Last edited:
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….
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….
Last edited:
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…
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…
Last edited:
Piratecat
Sesquipedalian
Plane Sailing said:
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:
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:
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..."
- Status
Similar Threads
