KidCthulhu
First Post
Notice how many times he mentions the River of Pus. That's quality ook factor here, people.
It was even ookier in person. blech.
It was even ookier in person. blech.
Sagiro's Story Hour Returns (new thread started on 5/18/08)
- Thread starter Sagiro
- Start date
Yay, great to see regular updates have been resumed!
First of all, a (hopelessly belated, I know) congratulations on the birth of your daughter, Sagiro!
Speaking of updates, I have finally (after more than a year!) updated the Sagiro's Collected Story Hour website, adding another two chapters, which take the story up to just before the Company headed into their current demon-infested (or is it devil-infested?
) predicament. That's almost another 100 pages, meaning the site now contains over 550 pages in total of Sagiro-y goodness, with still more to come... 
Also, please note that the Collected Story Hour has now moved to a new location, here (or just click the link in my signature). Sagiro, you might want to update the link at the start of this thread at some stage.
Can't wait to find out what happens to the Company in the "Fortress of Indifference" -- sounds decidedly ominous...
First of all, a (hopelessly belated, I know) congratulations on the birth of your daughter, Sagiro!
Speaking of updates, I have finally (after more than a year!) updated the Sagiro's Collected Story Hour website, adding another two chapters, which take the story up to just before the Company headed into their current demon-infested (or is it devil-infested?
) predicament. That's almost another 100 pages, meaning the site now contains over 550 pages in total of Sagiro-y goodness, with still more to come... Also, please note that the Collected Story Hour has now moved to a new location, here (or just click the link in my signature). Sagiro, you might want to update the link at the start of this thread at some stage.
Can't wait to find out what happens to the Company in the "Fortress of Indifference" -- sounds decidedly ominous...
Graywolf-ELM
Explorer
I don't know about anyone else, but I appreciate that you have done this.
Thank you,
GW
Thank you,
GW
Sagiro
Rodent of Uncertain Parentage
StevenAC, that's awesome! I'm still extremely grateful for your wonderful compilation, with all its excellent visual touches. (Like the sSSsssS's in Srapa's speech. Cool!)
I hope to get to the Fortress of Indifference before too long -- I'll probably post another update in the next few days, but I make no promises. We play tonight, and it's possible the party will get a small payoff for something I set up almost 170 runs ago! It's also possible that they'll fight a [redacted], but who can say?
-Sagiro
I hope to get to the Fortress of Indifference before too long -- I'll probably post another update in the next few days, but I make no promises. We play tonight, and it's possible the party will get a small payoff for something I set up almost 170 runs ago! It's also possible that they'll fight a [redacted], but who can say?
-Sagiro
KidCthulhu
First Post
Sagiro said:
You mean Xp? (One of the only benefits to the infrequency with which we play Sagiro's game is the fact that we can whine and complain that "It's been months since we got xp." and be entirely accurate.)
Sagiro
Rodent of Uncertain Parentage
That's not what I meant, but now that you mention it, yes, you will get XP tonight. And the whopping story award from having successfully [lots of details redacted] gives everyone enough XP to level up. Woo hoo!KidCthulhu said:
-Sagiro
p.s. You did just level up only 7 runs ago, you know.
Sagiro
Rodent of Uncertain Parentage
Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 234
Professional Jealousy
Over the plains of the Abyss rolls the thundering sound of gears and chains.
As the Company approaches Tapheon’s Fortress, still an hour or more away despite its massive presence in the sky, a huge iron ramp is being lowered like a drawbridge from the side of the great metal cube. A hundred yards long and thirty yards wide, the ramp bridges a moat of boiling white pus surrounding the anchor discs that hold the Fortress in place. After a long march through a last forest of gasping damned, Trugoth strides up the ramp and motions for the party to follow.
At the top of the ramp (and it’s no easy climb, pitched steeply as it is) a pair of forty-foot-high iron doors has swung inward for the Balor, and the Company crosses into an enormous cubic “foyer.” Once inside, the oppressive weight of the Abyss becomes even more intense, more spirit-crushing.
The party now stands in a featureless iron room a hundred feet on a side, with doors lining the three inward-facing walls. There are fifty-seven of these doors, nineteen per wall, each thirty feet tall. Trugoth waves his arm and one of the inner doors, seeming no different from any of the others, swings open to reveal a straight, dark corridor.
“In there,” booms Trugoth. “You will come to a red circle. Step into it. It will take you to your quarters. Lord Tapheon will send for you. Understood?
They nod.
“Can we keep our belongings?” asks Dranko.
“Of course,” says Trugoth, smiling.
“The theory being, it won’t make any difference,” Dranko mutters.
“Lord Tapheon will be eager to speak with you I’m sure,” says Trugoth. “You are his honored guests. Now. You have those among you who can see in the dark? Follow them, then. No. Lights. But your quarters you will find most comfortable.”
The Balor turns to leave, but checks himself and faces the party one more time.
“Did Queylic give you any advice?” he asks.
“She advised us not to get sassy with Lord Tapheon,” says Dranko.
“Ignore her,” says Trugoth, showing jagged teeth in an evil grin. “The Lord loves a good joke at his own expense.”
Dranko takes out a rope and pays it out so everyone can stay together. He goes in the front of the line, with Morningstar at the back and Kibi in the middle. They move into the corridor, which to Dranko’s eyes is a flat-black iron, straight as an arrow, and at least as long as his vision extends. It’s wide, and high, and like everything else here it reeks of evil. Once they are all through the door it clangs shut behind them, leaving them in complete darkness.
For an indeterminate time, they walk. Ernie, feeling like he has to do something, starts to sing, and for a while the sound of his voice echoes up and down the metal hallway. But after a while Dranko starts to notice that there are doors set into the walls of the corridor, and from behind these doors come shrieks of pain and horror that mix gruesomely with Ernie’s music.
“I’m officially not indifferent,” says Dranko under his breath,
Ernie stops singing at one particularly loud scream.
“And this is officially the worst place we’ve ever been,” says the halfling.
“I think I came to that conclusion by the first river of boiling pus,” says Dranko.
Morningstar begins to murmur a prayer, one of the first taught to neophytes of her church, about how the darkness is neither good nor evil by its nature. Step wonders to himself if this is the “lightless room” where he is doomed to die, but it doesn’t feel right, and he is not ready.
Dranko steps in something sticky and leaps back instinctively. A dark liquid is oozing out from under one of the doors; he directs the others to avoid it and doesn’t look too closely himself. When the Company is starting to reach the point of exhaustion they see up ahead a red light glowing in the darkness. A minute later they are upon it – a circle of red light on the ground, ten feet around. Without hesitation or discussion they step into it.
* *
The Abyss vanishes.
Well, no, that’s not technically true, but for a moment it seems that way. For starters, the oppressive soul-crushing nature of the Abyss is conspicuously absent. What’s more, the Company is standing in the corner of a large room, bright with a pleasing ambient glow, and smelling of a light, pleasant perfume reminiscent of a spring day. There is also the smell of good food, the source of which is a table heaped high with meats, fruits, cheeses and bread. Against one wall is a wine fountain and nine crystal goblets. Arranged tastefully around the room are numerous comfortable-looking sofas, chairs, and ottomans. And there are nine doors out of the room, standing open. From where they stand, the Company can see that each leads to a small but finely-appointed bedroom.
Oh, yes, there’s one more thing. Lounging around the room in the chairs and sofas are a dozen extremely attractive women, who can only barely be thought of as “dressed.” Some are drinking wine from goblets, some are eating daintily, and most are whispering softly to one another behind perfectly-manicured hands.
Aravis, exhausted, doesn’t give them a thought. He immediately lies down on a sofa, at the far end from one of the women. He curls up into a ball facing inward and closes his eyes tightly. Even so, one of the women sidles up to him and runs a hand through his hair.
“You’ve had a hard day, haven’t you?” she asks in a sweet, beautiful voice “Do you want me to rub your back?”
“No,” says Aravis curtly.
“Are you sure?” she asks, voice full of obvious concern for his happiness.
“Yes.”
“Would you like me to rub anything else?” she asks, a faint mischievous smile showing on her red lips.
Aravis shuts his eyes tighter.
The other women in the room, one at a time, have come to rest their eyes on Morningstar. Their expressions are hard to read: puzzlement? Annoyance? Curiosity?
“Can I help you?” asks Morningstar, staring levelly back at one of them.
“They’re not all yours, are they?” asks one of the women, in a tone of mild disbelief.
“In a sense, yes,” says Morningstar with a wry smile.
“Impressive,” says another of the women, nodding. Then, to the whole Company, she speaks while gesturing at the table of food. “Thirsty? Hungry? The food and drink are yours to enjoy. As are we.”
One of them stands from her chair and walks toward Ernie. He’s not exactly sure when she changed, or if she looked like that from the start, but she’s a cute, plump halfling girl, apple-cheeked and smiling shyly.
“Please don’t do that,” says Ernie.
“Why not?” asks the girl, pouting prettily.
“It’s very disturbing and I’m not interested. And neither is Flicker!”
Not that Flicker was starting to stare, or anything.
“You know she’s not real,” whispers Ernie to Flicker.
“Looks real,” remarks Flicker.
“Do you want to leave your soul here?” whispers Ernie, a little more loudly.
Dranko clears his throat.
“Can I confess a fantasy of mine?” he says loudly.
“You don’t have to confess it,” says one of the women. “You can act it out.”
“I’ve always wanted to be with a woman with a crooked nose and spots and bucked teeth,” says Dranko with as straight a face as he can manage. “I know it’s wrong, but it’s what I always wanted.”
The woman laughs, clearly seeing through his game. But she asks anyway, “Do you prefer orcish or human?”
Dranko gestures to Morningstar. “Actually, I prefer her. I’m afraid I’m not interested. You couldn’t match her, so don’t even try. You’re outgunned.”
Some of the women look at Morningstar and giggle.
“We’re not here to compel you,” says another of the women. “But we are all here for your pleasure. And understand... I don’t know how old she is, but we’ve been practicing our art for thousands of years. If you’d like, she can join us, and probably learn some things.”
“Slut,” says Dranko.
“Flatterer,” answers the woman.
“Did you say ‘practicing?’” says Ernie. “All those years and you still can’t do it right?”
“Oh, Ernest,” says the halfling woman, giggling in a fetching manner.
Ernie frowns and turns his back on her, and almost immediately feels soft hands rubbing his neck.
“Stop that!” shouts Ernie,
“But why?” asks the girl. “You’re so tense.”
“I don’t want you touching me!”
Dranko claps. “All demons, stand up!”
They all look, but none stand.
“I’m sure all of you are trying your best to be exactly what we want the most,” says Dranko. “But you’re out of luck.”
Then one of them does stand, and walks toward Dranko. He didn’t notice when she changed, but now she looks just like Morningstar, only... enhanced. More traditionally beautiful, and with none of Morningstar’s physical flaws.
“Oh, this is no good,” mutters Grey Wolf.
“We’re not interested,” insists Dranko.
“What we’d really like is to be left alone tonight,” adds Morningstar.
“Actually,” says Dranko, “We’ll be having a group prayer session in a few minutes, if you’d like to join in. We’ll be singing hymns, telling sermons, passing around holy water and symbols, and praying. You’re more than welcome.”
“You’re going to pray to your own gods? Here?” says the other Morningstar, raising a perfect eyebrow. “Interesting. Can we watch?”
”Tell you what,” says Dranko. “I’ll spray some holy water on you, and if you like it, you can stay and watch.”
“You think your water is still holy here?” says the woman. “You don’t understand Lord Tapheon very well, do you?”
The halfling woman scoops up some of the fruits from the table, then turns again to Ernie.
“Ernest, do you think we could make this into a pie?”
“I could,” says Ernie, “but you couldn’t.”
“I know I’m not as good a cook as you are. Maybe you could... teach me some things?”
“You don’t understand,” says Ernie, his voice breaking. “I’m sorry.” He stalks into one of the rooms, closes the door, drops to his knees, and prays.
“Look,” says Dranko. “You’re here to satisfy our every desire, right? We desire that you leave us alone and let us get some sleep.”
Morningstar turns to Dranko with a grateful smile. “I love you,” she says.
“I love you too,” says Dranko.
The woman who looks like Morningstar walks slowly to the real one.
“How do you do it?” she asks. “You have them all whipped like dogs. Especially that one,” she adds, pointing at Dranko.
Morningstar just shrugs, but she finally figures out the expression these creatures have when eyeing her. It’s professional jealousy.
The party spends a few minutes dragging some beds from room to room. While they can’t all fit into one of the bedrooms, they arrange to sleep in just two of them, for more security. Only Aravis stays outside, still curled up on the couch.
“I told you mortals were boring,” says one of the women, yawning.
“Not all mortals,” says another. “But these are lame.”
Not one member of the Company eats any of the food or drinks any of the wine.
The party sleeps. Aravis is woken briefly by the sound of Pewter hissing. One of the women has flopped down on his sofa and had sidled up to him. Faced with Pewter’s bared teeth and arched back, she’s sidling away again. Aravis smiles and goes back to sleep.
On Grey Wolf’s watch, one of the woman opens the door to his room and pokes her head in. Two more do the same.
“Let me invite you to shut the door and leave,” says Grey Wolf flatly.
“See,” says one of the women. “I told you they didn’t sleep in the nude.”
They shut the door.
Finally, Morningstar visits all of their dreams, sliding them away from their fears and worries, soothing their troubled minds. She leaves them each secure that their sleep is guarded. It’s a rare thing indeed for mortals to slumber soundly in the Fortress of Indifference, but with Morningstar’s help, they manage.
...to be continued...
Professional Jealousy
Over the plains of the Abyss rolls the thundering sound of gears and chains.
As the Company approaches Tapheon’s Fortress, still an hour or more away despite its massive presence in the sky, a huge iron ramp is being lowered like a drawbridge from the side of the great metal cube. A hundred yards long and thirty yards wide, the ramp bridges a moat of boiling white pus surrounding the anchor discs that hold the Fortress in place. After a long march through a last forest of gasping damned, Trugoth strides up the ramp and motions for the party to follow.
At the top of the ramp (and it’s no easy climb, pitched steeply as it is) a pair of forty-foot-high iron doors has swung inward for the Balor, and the Company crosses into an enormous cubic “foyer.” Once inside, the oppressive weight of the Abyss becomes even more intense, more spirit-crushing.
The party now stands in a featureless iron room a hundred feet on a side, with doors lining the three inward-facing walls. There are fifty-seven of these doors, nineteen per wall, each thirty feet tall. Trugoth waves his arm and one of the inner doors, seeming no different from any of the others, swings open to reveal a straight, dark corridor.
“In there,” booms Trugoth. “You will come to a red circle. Step into it. It will take you to your quarters. Lord Tapheon will send for you. Understood?
They nod.
“Can we keep our belongings?” asks Dranko.
“Of course,” says Trugoth, smiling.
“The theory being, it won’t make any difference,” Dranko mutters.
“Lord Tapheon will be eager to speak with you I’m sure,” says Trugoth. “You are his honored guests. Now. You have those among you who can see in the dark? Follow them, then. No. Lights. But your quarters you will find most comfortable.”
The Balor turns to leave, but checks himself and faces the party one more time.
“Did Queylic give you any advice?” he asks.
“She advised us not to get sassy with Lord Tapheon,” says Dranko.
“Ignore her,” says Trugoth, showing jagged teeth in an evil grin. “The Lord loves a good joke at his own expense.”
Dranko takes out a rope and pays it out so everyone can stay together. He goes in the front of the line, with Morningstar at the back and Kibi in the middle. They move into the corridor, which to Dranko’s eyes is a flat-black iron, straight as an arrow, and at least as long as his vision extends. It’s wide, and high, and like everything else here it reeks of evil. Once they are all through the door it clangs shut behind them, leaving them in complete darkness.
For an indeterminate time, they walk. Ernie, feeling like he has to do something, starts to sing, and for a while the sound of his voice echoes up and down the metal hallway. But after a while Dranko starts to notice that there are doors set into the walls of the corridor, and from behind these doors come shrieks of pain and horror that mix gruesomely with Ernie’s music.
“I’m officially not indifferent,” says Dranko under his breath,
Ernie stops singing at one particularly loud scream.
“And this is officially the worst place we’ve ever been,” says the halfling.
“I think I came to that conclusion by the first river of boiling pus,” says Dranko.
Morningstar begins to murmur a prayer, one of the first taught to neophytes of her church, about how the darkness is neither good nor evil by its nature. Step wonders to himself if this is the “lightless room” where he is doomed to die, but it doesn’t feel right, and he is not ready.
Dranko steps in something sticky and leaps back instinctively. A dark liquid is oozing out from under one of the doors; he directs the others to avoid it and doesn’t look too closely himself. When the Company is starting to reach the point of exhaustion they see up ahead a red light glowing in the darkness. A minute later they are upon it – a circle of red light on the ground, ten feet around. Without hesitation or discussion they step into it.
* *
The Abyss vanishes.
Well, no, that’s not technically true, but for a moment it seems that way. For starters, the oppressive soul-crushing nature of the Abyss is conspicuously absent. What’s more, the Company is standing in the corner of a large room, bright with a pleasing ambient glow, and smelling of a light, pleasant perfume reminiscent of a spring day. There is also the smell of good food, the source of which is a table heaped high with meats, fruits, cheeses and bread. Against one wall is a wine fountain and nine crystal goblets. Arranged tastefully around the room are numerous comfortable-looking sofas, chairs, and ottomans. And there are nine doors out of the room, standing open. From where they stand, the Company can see that each leads to a small but finely-appointed bedroom.
Oh, yes, there’s one more thing. Lounging around the room in the chairs and sofas are a dozen extremely attractive women, who can only barely be thought of as “dressed.” Some are drinking wine from goblets, some are eating daintily, and most are whispering softly to one another behind perfectly-manicured hands.
Aravis, exhausted, doesn’t give them a thought. He immediately lies down on a sofa, at the far end from one of the women. He curls up into a ball facing inward and closes his eyes tightly. Even so, one of the women sidles up to him and runs a hand through his hair.
“You’ve had a hard day, haven’t you?” she asks in a sweet, beautiful voice “Do you want me to rub your back?”
“No,” says Aravis curtly.
“Are you sure?” she asks, voice full of obvious concern for his happiness.
“Yes.”
“Would you like me to rub anything else?” she asks, a faint mischievous smile showing on her red lips.
Aravis shuts his eyes tighter.
The other women in the room, one at a time, have come to rest their eyes on Morningstar. Their expressions are hard to read: puzzlement? Annoyance? Curiosity?
“Can I help you?” asks Morningstar, staring levelly back at one of them.
“They’re not all yours, are they?” asks one of the women, in a tone of mild disbelief.
“In a sense, yes,” says Morningstar with a wry smile.
“Impressive,” says another of the women, nodding. Then, to the whole Company, she speaks while gesturing at the table of food. “Thirsty? Hungry? The food and drink are yours to enjoy. As are we.”
One of them stands from her chair and walks toward Ernie. He’s not exactly sure when she changed, or if she looked like that from the start, but she’s a cute, plump halfling girl, apple-cheeked and smiling shyly.
“Please don’t do that,” says Ernie.
“Why not?” asks the girl, pouting prettily.
“It’s very disturbing and I’m not interested. And neither is Flicker!”
Not that Flicker was starting to stare, or anything.
“You know she’s not real,” whispers Ernie to Flicker.
“Looks real,” remarks Flicker.
“Do you want to leave your soul here?” whispers Ernie, a little more loudly.
Dranko clears his throat.
“Can I confess a fantasy of mine?” he says loudly.
“You don’t have to confess it,” says one of the women. “You can act it out.”
“I’ve always wanted to be with a woman with a crooked nose and spots and bucked teeth,” says Dranko with as straight a face as he can manage. “I know it’s wrong, but it’s what I always wanted.”
The woman laughs, clearly seeing through his game. But she asks anyway, “Do you prefer orcish or human?”
Dranko gestures to Morningstar. “Actually, I prefer her. I’m afraid I’m not interested. You couldn’t match her, so don’t even try. You’re outgunned.”
Some of the women look at Morningstar and giggle.
“We’re not here to compel you,” says another of the women. “But we are all here for your pleasure. And understand... I don’t know how old she is, but we’ve been practicing our art for thousands of years. If you’d like, she can join us, and probably learn some things.”
“Slut,” says Dranko.
“Flatterer,” answers the woman.
“Did you say ‘practicing?’” says Ernie. “All those years and you still can’t do it right?”
“Oh, Ernest,” says the halfling woman, giggling in a fetching manner.
Ernie frowns and turns his back on her, and almost immediately feels soft hands rubbing his neck.
“Stop that!” shouts Ernie,
“But why?” asks the girl. “You’re so tense.”
“I don’t want you touching me!”
Dranko claps. “All demons, stand up!”
They all look, but none stand.
“I’m sure all of you are trying your best to be exactly what we want the most,” says Dranko. “But you’re out of luck.”
Then one of them does stand, and walks toward Dranko. He didn’t notice when she changed, but now she looks just like Morningstar, only... enhanced. More traditionally beautiful, and with none of Morningstar’s physical flaws.
“Oh, this is no good,” mutters Grey Wolf.
“We’re not interested,” insists Dranko.
“What we’d really like is to be left alone tonight,” adds Morningstar.
“Actually,” says Dranko, “We’ll be having a group prayer session in a few minutes, if you’d like to join in. We’ll be singing hymns, telling sermons, passing around holy water and symbols, and praying. You’re more than welcome.”
“You’re going to pray to your own gods? Here?” says the other Morningstar, raising a perfect eyebrow. “Interesting. Can we watch?”
”Tell you what,” says Dranko. “I’ll spray some holy water on you, and if you like it, you can stay and watch.”
“You think your water is still holy here?” says the woman. “You don’t understand Lord Tapheon very well, do you?”
The halfling woman scoops up some of the fruits from the table, then turns again to Ernie.
“Ernest, do you think we could make this into a pie?”
“I could,” says Ernie, “but you couldn’t.”
“I know I’m not as good a cook as you are. Maybe you could... teach me some things?”
“You don’t understand,” says Ernie, his voice breaking. “I’m sorry.” He stalks into one of the rooms, closes the door, drops to his knees, and prays.
“Look,” says Dranko. “You’re here to satisfy our every desire, right? We desire that you leave us alone and let us get some sleep.”
Morningstar turns to Dranko with a grateful smile. “I love you,” she says.
“I love you too,” says Dranko.
The woman who looks like Morningstar walks slowly to the real one.
“How do you do it?” she asks. “You have them all whipped like dogs. Especially that one,” she adds, pointing at Dranko.
Morningstar just shrugs, but she finally figures out the expression these creatures have when eyeing her. It’s professional jealousy.
The party spends a few minutes dragging some beds from room to room. While they can’t all fit into one of the bedrooms, they arrange to sleep in just two of them, for more security. Only Aravis stays outside, still curled up on the couch.
“I told you mortals were boring,” says one of the women, yawning.
“Not all mortals,” says another. “But these are lame.”
Not one member of the Company eats any of the food or drinks any of the wine.
The party sleeps. Aravis is woken briefly by the sound of Pewter hissing. One of the women has flopped down on his sofa and had sidled up to him. Faced with Pewter’s bared teeth and arched back, she’s sidling away again. Aravis smiles and goes back to sleep.
On Grey Wolf’s watch, one of the woman opens the door to his room and pokes her head in. Two more do the same.
“Let me invite you to shut the door and leave,” says Grey Wolf flatly.
“See,” says one of the women. “I told you they didn’t sleep in the nude.”
They shut the door.
Finally, Morningstar visits all of their dreams, sliding them away from their fears and worries, soothing their troubled minds. She leaves them each secure that their sleep is guarded. It’s a rare thing indeed for mortals to slumber soundly in the Fortress of Indifference, but with Morningstar’s help, they manage.
...to be continued...
MavrickWeirdo
First Post
Am I the only one who notices that Sagiro seems to post updates after 2am now that he has a child?
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