Sagiro's Story Hour Returns (new thread started on 5/18/08)
- Thread starter Sagiro
- Start date
Kid Charlemagne
I am the Very Model of a Modern Moderator
I was initially thinking Van Morrison/Them...
Plane Sailing
Astral Admin - Mwahahaha!
KidCthulhu said:
My work here is done
KidCthulhu
First Post
Don't think my revenge won't be swift, and thingy. Revengeful.Plane Sailing said:My work here is done
Plane Sailing
Astral Admin - Mwahahaha!
KidCthulhu said:
Uh, does that mean that this is a bad time to ask you about the title and author of that book about dogs? And that Brownies receipe I was going to write down?
LightPhoenix
First Post
Plane Sailing said:Uh, does that mean that this is a bad time to ask you about the title and author of that book about dogs? And that Brownies receipe I was going to write down?
Just disregard any ingredients that are like "1 tsp. baby poop" or authors that are "Butts, Seymore".
Richard Rawen
First Post
in trouble at work
again
and it is because I'm reading this story hour at work
again
and now I came across something that made me snort and choke in suprised mirth
again
and it was so funny I HAD to post... but I'm still at least 10 pages behind current so it will likely be Really Old News to most of you... yes, of course, again!
Here's what I just found, as the party sits under a balcony in the Giant courtyard at Het Branoi, trying to figure out a password for the door. Of course Dranko has hurled an insult out of frustration and the following exchange just had me rolling:
“I don’t think Edghar likes that kind of talk,” says Ernie, glancing at Grey Wolf.
“I can always have the last laugh,” thinks Edghar to his master. “He’s not likely to take a poop where I’m sleeping, if you catch my drift.”
“Don’t count on it,” warns Grey Wolf.
YIKES!
Anyways, I'm in a posting mood, so I had to share and say that I am really enjoying the story and thank you so much for taking the time to share it with us Sagiro!
Blessings,
Richard
M < > <
again
and it is because I'm reading this story hour at work
again
and now I came across something that made me snort and choke in suprised mirth
again
and it was so funny I HAD to post... but I'm still at least 10 pages behind current so it will likely be Really Old News to most of you... yes, of course, again!
Here's what I just found, as the party sits under a balcony in the Giant courtyard at Het Branoi, trying to figure out a password for the door. Of course Dranko has hurled an insult out of frustration and the following exchange just had me rolling:
“I don’t think Edghar likes that kind of talk,” says Ernie, glancing at Grey Wolf.
“I can always have the last laugh,” thinks Edghar to his master. “He’s not likely to take a poop where I’m sleeping, if you catch my drift.”
“Don’t count on it,” warns Grey Wolf.
YIKES!
Anyways, I'm in a posting mood, so I had to share and say that I am really enjoying the story and thank you so much for taking the time to share it with us Sagiro!
Blessings,
Richard
M < > <
Sagiro
Rodent of Uncertain Parentage
Man, hundreds of pages of Story, and what causes people to comment? The poop jokes! Richard, I'm glad you're enjoying the tale. It's my pleasure to write it, and as I've said before, having a thorough written record of the campaign makes it much easier to maintain continuity.
Now, a warning about this post. It's long, and nothing really happens. It's all dialogue. If you're reading thie story to find out how the plot advances, you can save yourself some time and wait for the next one.
Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 246
Chit Chat
It only takes a second for Flicker to figure out he has no chance.
She’s beautiful, no doubt about it, and he’d love to get to know her better, but even from across the room it’s obvious where her attention lies. And Ernie – well, one look at him, and it’s clear he’d best not get in the way. Flicker contents himself with an exaggerated sigh.
“Good luck, Ernie,” he whispers wistfully.
Ernie has reached the bottom of the stairs, and the halfling woman has taken a few steps toward him, when she is interrupted by a small weedy man in green robes. She lets her gaze linger on Ernie for a final second before attending to this new arrival. Dranko, watching things unfold with a keen interest, narrows his eyes. He tugs Grey Wolf by the sleeve.
“Come on,” he says.
Dranko and Grey Wolf weave across the floor of the commons until they’ve reached the small man and the halfling woman. Dranko puts his hand on the man’s shoulder.
“Excuse me,” he says loudly. “Can we talk to you for a minute? Ma’am, you can...er... go about your business.” Dranko smiles reassuringly at the woman. She returns the smile, then hurriedly glances at Ernie, who is now rushing over. He’s horrified that Dranko might, with the best of all intentions, be ruining everything.
The small man looks up at Dranko. He’s wearing a medallion around his neck with a clock-face design.
“Hello, hello,” he says.
“We’re new here,” says Dranko, “and everyone says you’re the one to talk to if we want to find out what’s what.”
“Really?” says the little man with a nervous smile. “They say that? About me? How nice! I’m Terrence.”
“Hi Terrence. I’m Dranko. Let’s go over to that corner table, and I’ll buy you a drink.”
“You can tell us what’s going on here,” says Grey Wolf, nodding.
They depart just as Ernie arrives. The others have followed at a discreet distance, still mildly suspicious of anything that looks too good to be true.
“I’m sorry,” says Ernie, unable to keep the worry from his voice. “Did my friend say anything offensive?”
“No, he... no. He seemed to want to talk to Terrence most urgently, though.”
Ernie breathes an inward sigh of relief, and gestures to the retreating Dranko. “He’s a diamond in the rough, and his heart’s in the right place, but sometimes his mouth isn’t engaged to his brain.”
“And other times it is engaged,” mutters Kibi, overhearing. “And then he’s even worse!”
“I’m Ernest!,” says Ernie, remembering his manners. “At your service.”
“I’m Yoba,” answers the woman, reaching out to shake Ernie’s hand. Flicker smiles ruefully as the pair’s hands stay clasped a moment longer than is strictly necessary for an introductory handshake. Yoba seems to realize this too, after a few seconds have passed, and let’s go of Ernie with a blush.
“Ernest, are you preparing for battle?” she asks, glancing at his plate mail.
“Almost constantly,” says Ernie. “You see, we’ve been wandering the Slices quite a bit, and we have to stay ready.”
“I understand,” says Yoba, nodding.
“But it is awfully hot in this tin can, now that you mention it,” says Ernie.
“Then why don’t you take it off...” begins Yoba, who then stops, embarrassed. Ernie can’t help but think how Yoba’s face becomes even more lovely when she blushes.
“I mean, you’re quite safe here,” she finishes, smiling shyly. “Do you do a lot of fighting?”
“Yes,” says Ernie. “My friends and I. We spend a lot of time saving the world.”
“Really?” asks Yoba, her eyes widening. “What is your world called?”
“Abernia,” says Ernie. “And we’re not actually from a Slice. I mean, our world wasn’t Sliced off like the rest. My friends and I, we came here on purpose.”
“Why?” asks Yoba.
“To change history, and return our world to the way it should be.”
Yoba looks genuinely impressed, and Ernie feels a surge of confidence. Steeling himself to do something extremely brave, something he’s never done before in his life, he takes a deep breath.
“Can I... can I buy you a drink?” he asks.
Yoba’s face lights up. “Yes, of course! That’s very kind of you.” She looks embarrassed again for a minute, and then says softly. “What I really enjoy here is milk.”
“I love milk!” exclaims Ernie, delighted. “Though we don’t drink it very often since we travel so much.”
“Have you seen the cows here?” asks Yoba. “They have six legs, but the milk is excellent.”
“Six legs!” says Ernie. “That means two extra joints per cow.”
“Oh,” says Yoba. “Are you a cook?”
“Every time I get the chance,” says Ernie proudly.
“I do some cooking, but I’m not very good at it,” says Yoba, and her modesty seems genuine. “I serve Yondalla in more... martial ways.”
“Oh, me too!” says Ernie, eager to assure there’s nothing inherently wrong with well-intentioned violence. “I mean, I cook, but I also fight. And heal, sometimes. Oh, let me get our milks. I think I see a free table. I’ll meet you there.”
Ernie wafts in blissful reverie to the bar, studiously avoiding looking at Dranko.
* *
“So, what’s with the holy symbol?”
Dranko points at Terrence’s olive-colored medallion, which shows a stylized clock face.
“Oh, that,” says Terrence. “Well, you see, I’m a priest of the Noofr. God of Cleanliness and Punctuality.”
“Cleanliness and punctuality!” exclaims Dranko. “You don’t say?”
The half-orc whips out a blacktallow cigar and lights up, which sends Terrence into a mild fit of coughing.
“I’m a cleric of Delioch, God of Healing.”
“We have several healing Gods,” says Terrence.
“Several?” Dranko raises an eyebrow.
“Yes. They are among the Thousand Gods of Corrish.”
“A thousand Gods,” says Dranko, sounding impressed. Then he asks, “So, what do you do with dirty stuff?”
Terrence blinks. “Clean it, of course.”
“And what if cleaning stuff makes you late?” asks Dranko.
Terrence sighs and squints at Dranko. “Are you sure you’re a cleric?”
“Yeah, of course!” answers Dranko, taking another puff of his cigar. “I’ve even got a holy symbol around here somewhere...”
“He is,” confirms Grey Wolf. “Believe it or not.”
“Yes. Well.” Terrence may in fact be starting to feel as if he’s being mocked. “What is it again that you wanted to know?”
“Tell us about the portals in and out, and the people, and... oh, your thoughts about time,” says Dranko, returning to acting serious for moment. “It must be fascinating for someone who worships a God of Punctuality to be in a place where time doesn’t actually pass. You can’t be late!”
Terrence smiles again. “Oh, no no no! Relative time still passes, and one can still be late. It’s aging that doesn’t happen. That’s different. It’s winter again, for instance. I’ve been here a year, and the seasons most definitely change. Anyhow, I help Prinn, in the tending of the sick and wounded. I...I do have some abilities to heal.”
“What’s the sickest person you ever healed?” asks Dranko.
“Well, Crieger had with a terrible rash. He arrived with it. I’ll bet he picked it up from the Dark Dwarves on his way here.”
“Dark Dwarves?” asks Dranko. He leans forward a bit, since this is the first thing Terrence has said that he actually finds interesting.
“Yes, Dark Dwarves. I understand that one of the Ways out from the Lions’ Slice goes underground, and evil dwarves live there. Now, I personally came from one of the Ways that’s gray now; the one that went gray just a few months ago. So, my plan is just to stay here, until something happens, and then find my way home somehow.”
“Ever had any experience in combat?” asks Dranko, finally getting to the point.
“Er.. a little,” says Terrence, taken aback. “I try to avoid it whenever possible,” he adds, laughing. “I prefer to heal than to need healing.”
“How would you feel about being in the back line of a battle, helping heal people who are injured?” Dranko prompts. “Saving lives, that sort of thing?”
“Well, I... I don’t... don’t have any experience with that, so I...”
“Oh, I bet you’d be great! Grey Wolf, don’t’ you think?”
“Yes, I think so,” says Grey Wolf, trying to look like he means it.
“Are you planning on having a... a battle? Here?” asks Terrence nervously.
“No, not here,” says Dranko truthfully.
“Well, that’s good,” says Terrence, relieved. “There hasn’t been fighting here, not since I’ve arrived. The Lions protect one of the Ways, and nothing comes from the Ocean Way. Nothing comes out of the Slime Tunnels either, except Garg.”
“Garg?” asks Grey Wolf.
“You haven’t met Garg the Great?” asks Terrence. It’s strange to hear such obvious sarcasm come from the inoffensive little man. “He’s an orcish wizardly person who thinks very highly of himself. I don’t think highly of him at all. He’s a pompous a... Excuse me. He’s pompous. And annoying.”
Dranko sneezes, and quick as lightning Terrence whips out a handkerchief and hands it to him. “Can never have too many,” he says, smiling.
Drank blows his nose. “You want it back?” he asks, extending the sopping cloth.
“No! No, really, keep it.”
“You sure?”
“Yes!”
* *
Ernie brings back the milks to the table where Yoba awaits. She’s so beautiful. And she likes milk!
“Thank you!” says Yoba, smiling, and when she takes her cup from him their hands touch briefly, sending a jolt of electricity through Ernie’s body.
“So, how do you come to be here?” asks Ernie, after he’s recovered with a sip of milk.
“Same as everyone else... except you. A bit of my world was sliced away. It was just me. I was off scouting... wandering, I mean... by myself.”
“So you’re here without your home, your family... without anything, or anyone?” says Ernie, horrified.
“Yes,” says Yoba, though she doesn’t seem as distraught about it as Ernie does on her behalf. “I do often wonder what my friends and family think has happened to me. But I’m sure I’ll find my way back there someday. My country is called Evergreen.”
“That’s a nice name,” says Ernie. “I’m from Dingman’s Ferry myself. It’s just a small village, but it’s home, and I like it. But... what happened then?”
“When I found a Way out of my Slice of Evergreen, I found myself in a very strange place,” says Yoba. “It was a world that was alive. A strange folded...being, I think. It’s hard to describe. It... pushed me around in its folds, until I was forced through a second Way, and into where the Lions live. And then to here. And this seems like a good place to me. I don’t know how I feel about Peralta, but I don’t entirely discount what she says. I thought I could do some good here. I have some modest healing skills, so I help out Prinn and Terrence. And in case there’s ever any incursions, I can fight. I’m... I’m quite skilled. At fighting. So, here I am. But your life has probably been much more interesting than mine. Tell me about your adventures with your friends!”
* *
The rest of the Company can’t help but smile at the sight of Ernie animatedly gesturing to an attentive Yoba, as he tells her the tales of their various quests. Only Morningstar, always suspecting, worries that Ernie might end up giving away secrets that even a paladin of Yondalla oughtn’t be told. But even she finds it difficult to throw any water on Ernie right now.
“You see that halfling over there?” says Dranko to Terrence. “He looks self-effacing, but he’s our leader. He’s the most qualified fighting man I’ve ever met. A born leader. If anyone asks, spread the word.”
Aravis can’t help but add: “In fact, he slew all his rivals back home.”
The others nod, trying their darndest not to laugh.
“But he’s a man of good heart,” adds Dranko, when Terrence starts to look nervous again. “So, how do you reckon we can help around here?”
“What can you do?” asks Terrence, casting a last worried glance at Ernie.
“We can heal,” says Dranko. “We’re very good at healing.”
“We usually have enough healing to meet the town’s need,” says Terrence. “Can you...uh, can you farm?”
“Not very well,” admits Dranko. “But I can do this. Want another drink?”
Dranko brings up his whip, and quick as anything curls the end around a mug of ale on the tray of a passing barmaid. With a deft flick he snaps the mug into his empty hand with only a minimum of spillage, and hands it to Terrence with a smile.
“Er... thank you,” says Terrence “I don’t... I don’t know that we need people for that, but... most impressive, I assure you. Um. If you don’t farm, can you build?”
“I can whip people do make them work harder,” says Dranko, leering. “Does that count?”
“That’s awful!” exclaims Terrence.
“I’m kidding,” says Dranko, shaking his head. “I only whip bad guys.”
“Kidding, of course! Ha ha!” Terrence’s laugh has reached new heights of nervousness.
“What he’s really good at is making off-color jokes,” says Grey Wolf.
“And blustering,” adds Aravis. “Don’t forget blustering.”
A tall, rangy man, standing almost six and a half feet and moving like a warrior, comes up and puts his hand on Terrence’s shoulder.
“Terrence isn’t boring you to death, is he?” asks the man, flashing a rakish smile.
“No, not at all,” says Dranko. “Terrence has been incredibly helpful.”
“Jack!” says Terrence, though his smile is forced. “Er... hi!”
“Incredibly helpful?” says Jack. “Good for you, Terrence!” Jack slaps Terrence on the back so hard that the little priest rocks forward and spills some of his ale.”
“Don’t you think that’s a little rude?” asks Dranko flatly.
“Oh, it’s all in good fun,” laughs Jack.
Dranko’s not smiling. “Terrence, are you having fun with this guy?” he asks.
Terrence looks from Jack, to Dranko, back to Jack again, wondering what the right answer is.
* *
Ernie, noticing this exchange on the other side of the room, pauses in his narrative to ask Yoba, “Who’s that?”
“Oh, that’s Jack,” says Yoba. “He’s kind of a scoundrel, but I think he means well.”
“Well, I don’t like to see little guys like that get pushed around.”
“Jack’s always looking to get ahead,” says Yoba. “He looks for the angle. He doesn’t trust people very much, and doesn’t expect others to trust him. But he’s not a bad sort.”
“I’ll bet he and Dranko would get along like a house on fire,” says Ernie. “I mean, with people around them screaming and running away.”
Yoba laughs. It’s the most beautiful sound Ernie has ever heard.
“Dranko,” says Ernie with a sigh. “He seems like quite the character. But like I said, his heart’s in the right place. And I should know... I heal it often enough!”
Yoba laughs again, and Ernie is positively flushed with happiness that she enjoys his jokes. That, or the milk is going to his head.
* *
“Jack,” says Dranko, sounding as serious as he can. “You might want to be careful pickin’ on guys smaller than you. Otherwise I might have to get my friend over there to beat you up.” He points at Ernie.
Jack looks over, but doesn’t’ take the bait. “I’m not picking on anyone, sir,” he says, just as seriously. “I’m sorry, I should have introduced myself. My name is Jack.”
“Dranko Blackhope.” He stands up, and the rest of the Company also introduces themselves. When he shakes Aravis’s hand, Jack says “Nice eyes,” but otherwise seems unimpressed. As he shakes Kibi’s hand, he says, “I had a good friend who was a dwarf. He died in combat, like a true warrior. Nearly died myself in that fight.”
As Jack pulls up a chair, Dranko asks, “So, Jack, where you from? And what we’re you doing when you got Sliced?”
“I was on a job,” says Jack. “A... requisitioning assignment.”
“Oh!” says Dranko. “Stealing stuff! You could have just told us you were a sneak thief. Doesn’t bother us!”
“I’m not just a sneak thief,” says Jack with an easy smile. “I have many abilities.”
“It looks like you’re a warrior as well,” says Grey Wolf, and Jack nods.
(Ernie is now telling Yoba about the time Grey Wolf was run down by an animated carriage in Tev. Yoba is absolutely entranced.)
“So, you’ve talked to Peralta, I take it,” says Jack. “Whaddya think? What’s her angle?”
“Her angle?” says Dranko, raises his eyebrows. “She’s not charging people, is she? And I don’t think she has a hankering for gems, and is just trying to smoke ‘em out.”
“That thought had occurred to me,” admits Jack.
“I think she’s what she seems to be,” says Aravis.
“Tell you one thing,” says Dranko, looking carefully at Jack’s expression. “If her savior actually does show up, I want a piece of that action. What about you?”
“If I had a good reason to think she’s on the up and up, and we really were going to get out of here,” says Jack casually. “I’ve only been here a few weeks. Of the four of us who were on the job, I’m the only one left.”
“What, you kill ‘em and take their stuff?” asks Dranko with a laugh. Jack doesn’t look amused.
“That’s not funny,” he says, glowering.
“I’m sorry they died,” says Dranko, quickly becoming serious.
“Yeah, me too. They were killed by... Duergar, I think they’re called. Evil dwarves.”
“Yeah, well, Kibi here’s not evil,” says Dranko. “You can tell by the way he braids his beard.”
“I think you can tell something like that just by looking at a person,” says Jack. “You for instance. I don’t think you’re evil either, even though you look it.”
Dranko notices that Jack’s got a rapier, and four obviously-magical daggers strapped to his chest. He points to a distant support beam near a wall of the common room, where there aren’t any patrons.
“Say. I’ll bet you a silver piece that you can’t hit that knot – the one that looks like a rabbit – with one of your daggers.”
Jack glances over his shoulder. With an easy motion he pulls a dagger from its holster and flips it backhanded, not even bothering to watch its flight. It strikes dead in the center of the knot. While the Company stares, he holds up his hand. The dagger quivers, pulls itself free of the post, and flies back into his hand.
“That was worth it!” says Dranko, genuinely impressed.
“Keep the money,” says Jack, smiling. “But yeah, I’d want a ‘piece of the action’ if I thought there was something to it. ‘Course, I’d have to be awfully convinced. I assume you’ve seen the...remains.”
“Remains?” asks Grey Wolf. “No, we haven’t. What remains?”
“The stuff they’ve pulled out of the Black Door. The bits tied to ropes they’ve pulled out. Limbs, mostly. Torsos. I don’t think they have any heads. The remains are buried – I’ve never seen them. Peralta’s little guy, who runs around keeping the torches lit... he buries ‘em.”
* *
“And then there was this giant insane dragon!” says Ernie. “Flicker almost got eaten, and...”
Yoba has not looked away during the entire tale, a fact which has not gone unnoticed by Ernie, and which really is going to his head like strong drink. Morningstar decides that someone ought to be over there with them, to stop Ernie before he can say something that’s supposed to be a secret.
“I think I’ll join those two,” she says, pointing at the pair of halflings.
“Good luck,” says Dranko. “Should we tie a rope to you?”
“We can count to ten Abernathys and pull you out,” says Kibi.
Morningstar laughs, and wanders over to where Ernie is telling his tale.
“...and Aravis was able to stop the Emperor from invading,” says Ernie. “So all that was left to do was the mopping up. It was huge battle, but we won!”
“Ernest, may I join you?” Morningstar has appeared at their table. Ernie hadn’t noticed her approach.
“Of course!” says Ernie, shocked out of his reverie. “Yoba, this is my friend Morningstar. She’s a priestess of Ell.”
“Goddess of Darkness and Dreams,” adds Morningstar.
“Well, any friend of Ernie’s...” says Yoba pleasantly. “Ernie has been telling me the most amazing stories of your adventures! I assume you were there with the insane Dragon, while armies were pouring through magical gateways. I’ve never heard anything so fantastic! I’ve been in my share of battles, but nothing like that. Incredible! You must be famous heroes back in Abernia.”
Hearing it put like that, Ernie does suddenly think that he may have been saying too much. Grasping for a more innocuous subject, he says, “Well, we did have a parade...”
“You did? A parade? For you?” Yoba’s eyes are shining with admiration.
“For all of us,” Ernie adds hastily. “Morningstar here was in it, too. Er... so, what kind of battles have you been in?”
“Mostly battles against the goblin empire,” says Yoba. “It’s the biggest threat to Evergreen. The Goblins control almost a third of Treya. And I’m... well, I’m... I’m the Commander of the Southern Border.”
Now it’s Ernie’s turn to gawk. “Really? And I’ve been babbling away all this time. I’m just an adventurer.”
“I’ve killed lost of goblins,” continues Yoba. “But I also spend a lot of time in tents, looking at maps, and advising the General as to what the battle plans should be. I was on a scouting expedition for him when I ended up here. I like to see the terrain for myself, and since we occupy most of the high ground along the border, I thought I'd get the lay of the land. See if I could spot anything about goblin troop disposition or formations. I could see a long way from the high hills, and we had plenty of sentries on the hillsides, so I wasn’t in any personal danger.”
“How many people do you command?” Morningstar asks.
“Directly, or down through the hierarchy?” asks Yoba, starting to blush again.
“The whole group,” says Morningstar.
“I’d say... about twenty thousand?”
“Twenty thousand!” squawks Ernie. “I’m lucky if I can just get Dranko to do what I ask!”
“There are plenty of people with greater fighting prowess than me,” says Yoba, clearly self-conscious. “It’s humbling to command them. But I have a good head for strategy. I... I studied a long time.”
Across the room the rest of the Company is laughing uproariously, making “ten Abernathy” jokes and wondering if Morningstar herself now needs rescuing. Yoba can’t hear what they’re saying, but smiles at Ernie and Morningstar.
“You have nice friends,” she says.
“Yes, I do!” says Ernie, waving at the rest of the Company. This causes them to come over, and Yoba can’t help but stare for a minute at Aravis’s eyes. Then she quickly apologizes for staring.
“Were you born that way?” she asks, fascinated.
“No. It was the result of a magical ritual.”
“I think I understand,” says Yoba. “We have several wizards in the military. One of them has strange skin. Not in the same way you do, but it was from an experiment that went awry.”
Morningstar start to introduce Yoba as ‘Commander,’ but the halfling interrupts.
“Just Yoba, please. Yoba Stoutheart. I’m not commanding anyone here.”
“I’m Sir Dranko, of the Spire Guard. Like Ernie here.”
“You’re a knight?” asks Yoba, turning to Ernie. “You didn’t tell me that! What’s the Spire Guard? Tell me all about it!
In the middle of the explanation, a stout dwarf comes marching over to their now-crowded table. He’s not armored, but wears a hammer at his belt and what looks like a holy symbol around his neck. It’s design is a plain stone shield.
“Hey there!” he says gruffly.
Yoba turns and smiles at the newcomer. “Kiro, welcome. You should meet my new friends.”
After the round of introductions, Kibi says, “I haven’t seen many dwarves around here.”
“Yeah, me neither,” says Kiro. “Nice to see a true dwarf. Better than a Duergar!”
“Where are you from?” asks Kibi. “Are you a warrior?”
“Decent enough, but I’m a priest by trade,” says Kiro.
“Of Moradin?”
“No. Of Vigus, the Defender. But I have fought plenty, including some nasty stuff just to get here. First is was Yeti in some snowy Slice, and then some Wyverns. You ever fought a Yeti?”
“Not Yeti,” says Dranko with a smirk, and sending Kiro into howls of laughter.
“How do you fight against Yeti?” asks Kibi.
“Same way I fight most things,” says Kiro, grinning. “Off with their kneecaps!”
Dranko thinks, If he were any more dwarfish, he’d vomit rocks.
“I was down in the tunnels under our mountain, me and a buddy,” explains Kiro, when Kibi presses him for more details. “On our way to spar, so I had a weapon on me, thank Vigus. Anyhow, I look back after he doesn’t respond to a joke, and he’s just standing there not moving, And I couldn’t reach him, like there was an invisible wall between us. Just a Slice boundary, though I didn’t know it at the time. So, I figured I’d go get help. But damned if there wasn’t a blue Way blocking the tunnel in the other direction. I went through it, and found myself somewhere cold, snow everywhere. That’s where I fought the Yeti. That was about three years ago. I help out Prinn and Terrence, just like Yoba here. It’s a decent enough place, but I miss my home.”
“Say, isn’t there an orc around here somewhere?” asks Dranko, figuring a dwarf would know.
“Yeah,” says Kiro, who starts laughing again at the thought. “He’s... heh... he’s learned to stay away from me. Heh. Not that I ever laid a hand on him, mind you.”
“You have a problem with orcs then?” challenges Dranko.
“I don’t have a problem with you, if that’s what you mean,” says Kiro.
The dwarf goes on to describe the Slime Tunnels. The Slimes, he says, are supposedly alive, and will attack anyone who tries to traverse the subterranean ways, or so he’s heard. “’Garg the Great’ came out them pretty much unharmed,” says Kiro, scratching under his beard. “He always claims he’s gonna go back, get a whole bunch of orcs, and take over the place. But he’s full of hot air.”
At the Company’s request, Kiro gives them directions to where they can find Porridge. “Has a little house,” says Kiro. “Keeps to himself. Prinn brings him food, to make sure he eats. He’s crazy.”
“Curable?” asks Morningstar.
“Prinn doesn’t think so,” answers Kiro, shaking his head. “She says something in his mind is broken, and no one can fix it.”
“Well, wonderful meeting you,” says Kibi.
The party decides to pay Porridge a visit right then, and all rise from the table.
“Poor guy,” says Yoba. “Prinn has tried her most powerful curatives. And I’ve heard that a priest who is no longer here tried the prayer of heal on him, and even that did not restore him.”
“We have some things we can try,” says Ernie. “Would you like to come with us?”
“Of course!” answers Yoba.
And so they take their leave of the Wily Warthog, to see what they can learn from the one man who’s returned alive from beyond the Black Door.
...to be continued...
Richard, I'm glad you're enjoying the tale. It's my pleasure to write it, and as I've said before, having a thorough written record of the campaign makes it much easier to maintain continuity.Now, a warning about this post. It's long, and nothing really happens. It's all dialogue. If you're reading thie story to find out how the plot advances, you can save yourself some time and wait for the next one.
Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 246
Chit Chat
It only takes a second for Flicker to figure out he has no chance.
She’s beautiful, no doubt about it, and he’d love to get to know her better, but even from across the room it’s obvious where her attention lies. And Ernie – well, one look at him, and it’s clear he’d best not get in the way. Flicker contents himself with an exaggerated sigh.
“Good luck, Ernie,” he whispers wistfully.
Ernie has reached the bottom of the stairs, and the halfling woman has taken a few steps toward him, when she is interrupted by a small weedy man in green robes. She lets her gaze linger on Ernie for a final second before attending to this new arrival. Dranko, watching things unfold with a keen interest, narrows his eyes. He tugs Grey Wolf by the sleeve.
“Come on,” he says.
Dranko and Grey Wolf weave across the floor of the commons until they’ve reached the small man and the halfling woman. Dranko puts his hand on the man’s shoulder.
“Excuse me,” he says loudly. “Can we talk to you for a minute? Ma’am, you can...er... go about your business.” Dranko smiles reassuringly at the woman. She returns the smile, then hurriedly glances at Ernie, who is now rushing over. He’s horrified that Dranko might, with the best of all intentions, be ruining everything.
The small man looks up at Dranko. He’s wearing a medallion around his neck with a clock-face design.
“Hello, hello,” he says.
“We’re new here,” says Dranko, “and everyone says you’re the one to talk to if we want to find out what’s what.”
“Really?” says the little man with a nervous smile. “They say that? About me? How nice! I’m Terrence.”
“Hi Terrence. I’m Dranko. Let’s go over to that corner table, and I’ll buy you a drink.”
“You can tell us what’s going on here,” says Grey Wolf, nodding.
They depart just as Ernie arrives. The others have followed at a discreet distance, still mildly suspicious of anything that looks too good to be true.
“I’m sorry,” says Ernie, unable to keep the worry from his voice. “Did my friend say anything offensive?”
“No, he... no. He seemed to want to talk to Terrence most urgently, though.”
Ernie breathes an inward sigh of relief, and gestures to the retreating Dranko. “He’s a diamond in the rough, and his heart’s in the right place, but sometimes his mouth isn’t engaged to his brain.”
“And other times it is engaged,” mutters Kibi, overhearing. “And then he’s even worse!”
“I’m Ernest!,” says Ernie, remembering his manners. “At your service.”
“I’m Yoba,” answers the woman, reaching out to shake Ernie’s hand. Flicker smiles ruefully as the pair’s hands stay clasped a moment longer than is strictly necessary for an introductory handshake. Yoba seems to realize this too, after a few seconds have passed, and let’s go of Ernie with a blush.
“Ernest, are you preparing for battle?” she asks, glancing at his plate mail.
“Almost constantly,” says Ernie. “You see, we’ve been wandering the Slices quite a bit, and we have to stay ready.”
“I understand,” says Yoba, nodding.
“But it is awfully hot in this tin can, now that you mention it,” says Ernie.
“Then why don’t you take it off...” begins Yoba, who then stops, embarrassed. Ernie can’t help but think how Yoba’s face becomes even more lovely when she blushes.
“I mean, you’re quite safe here,” she finishes, smiling shyly. “Do you do a lot of fighting?”
“Yes,” says Ernie. “My friends and I. We spend a lot of time saving the world.”
“Really?” asks Yoba, her eyes widening. “What is your world called?”
“Abernia,” says Ernie. “And we’re not actually from a Slice. I mean, our world wasn’t Sliced off like the rest. My friends and I, we came here on purpose.”
“Why?” asks Yoba.
“To change history, and return our world to the way it should be.”
Yoba looks genuinely impressed, and Ernie feels a surge of confidence. Steeling himself to do something extremely brave, something he’s never done before in his life, he takes a deep breath.
“Can I... can I buy you a drink?” he asks.
Yoba’s face lights up. “Yes, of course! That’s very kind of you.” She looks embarrassed again for a minute, and then says softly. “What I really enjoy here is milk.”
“I love milk!” exclaims Ernie, delighted. “Though we don’t drink it very often since we travel so much.”
“Have you seen the cows here?” asks Yoba. “They have six legs, but the milk is excellent.”
“Six legs!” says Ernie. “That means two extra joints per cow.”
“Oh,” says Yoba. “Are you a cook?”
“Every time I get the chance,” says Ernie proudly.
“I do some cooking, but I’m not very good at it,” says Yoba, and her modesty seems genuine. “I serve Yondalla in more... martial ways.”
“Oh, me too!” says Ernie, eager to assure there’s nothing inherently wrong with well-intentioned violence. “I mean, I cook, but I also fight. And heal, sometimes. Oh, let me get our milks. I think I see a free table. I’ll meet you there.”
Ernie wafts in blissful reverie to the bar, studiously avoiding looking at Dranko.
* *
“So, what’s with the holy symbol?”
Dranko points at Terrence’s olive-colored medallion, which shows a stylized clock face.
“Oh, that,” says Terrence. “Well, you see, I’m a priest of the Noofr. God of Cleanliness and Punctuality.”
“Cleanliness and punctuality!” exclaims Dranko. “You don’t say?”
The half-orc whips out a blacktallow cigar and lights up, which sends Terrence into a mild fit of coughing.
“I’m a cleric of Delioch, God of Healing.”
“We have several healing Gods,” says Terrence.
“Several?” Dranko raises an eyebrow.
“Yes. They are among the Thousand Gods of Corrish.”
“A thousand Gods,” says Dranko, sounding impressed. Then he asks, “So, what do you do with dirty stuff?”
Terrence blinks. “Clean it, of course.”
“And what if cleaning stuff makes you late?” asks Dranko.
Terrence sighs and squints at Dranko. “Are you sure you’re a cleric?”
“Yeah, of course!” answers Dranko, taking another puff of his cigar. “I’ve even got a holy symbol around here somewhere...”
“He is,” confirms Grey Wolf. “Believe it or not.”
“Yes. Well.” Terrence may in fact be starting to feel as if he’s being mocked. “What is it again that you wanted to know?”
“Tell us about the portals in and out, and the people, and... oh, your thoughts about time,” says Dranko, returning to acting serious for moment. “It must be fascinating for someone who worships a God of Punctuality to be in a place where time doesn’t actually pass. You can’t be late!”
Terrence smiles again. “Oh, no no no! Relative time still passes, and one can still be late. It’s aging that doesn’t happen. That’s different. It’s winter again, for instance. I’ve been here a year, and the seasons most definitely change. Anyhow, I help Prinn, in the tending of the sick and wounded. I...I do have some abilities to heal.”
“What’s the sickest person you ever healed?” asks Dranko.
“Well, Crieger had with a terrible rash. He arrived with it. I’ll bet he picked it up from the Dark Dwarves on his way here.”
“Dark Dwarves?” asks Dranko. He leans forward a bit, since this is the first thing Terrence has said that he actually finds interesting.
“Yes, Dark Dwarves. I understand that one of the Ways out from the Lions’ Slice goes underground, and evil dwarves live there. Now, I personally came from one of the Ways that’s gray now; the one that went gray just a few months ago. So, my plan is just to stay here, until something happens, and then find my way home somehow.”
“Ever had any experience in combat?” asks Dranko, finally getting to the point.
“Er.. a little,” says Terrence, taken aback. “I try to avoid it whenever possible,” he adds, laughing. “I prefer to heal than to need healing.”
“How would you feel about being in the back line of a battle, helping heal people who are injured?” Dranko prompts. “Saving lives, that sort of thing?”
“Well, I... I don’t... don’t have any experience with that, so I...”
“Oh, I bet you’d be great! Grey Wolf, don’t’ you think?”
“Yes, I think so,” says Grey Wolf, trying to look like he means it.
“Are you planning on having a... a battle? Here?” asks Terrence nervously.
“No, not here,” says Dranko truthfully.
“Well, that’s good,” says Terrence, relieved. “There hasn’t been fighting here, not since I’ve arrived. The Lions protect one of the Ways, and nothing comes from the Ocean Way. Nothing comes out of the Slime Tunnels either, except Garg.”
“Garg?” asks Grey Wolf.
“You haven’t met Garg the Great?” asks Terrence. It’s strange to hear such obvious sarcasm come from the inoffensive little man. “He’s an orcish wizardly person who thinks very highly of himself. I don’t think highly of him at all. He’s a pompous a... Excuse me. He’s pompous. And annoying.”
Dranko sneezes, and quick as lightning Terrence whips out a handkerchief and hands it to him. “Can never have too many,” he says, smiling.
Drank blows his nose. “You want it back?” he asks, extending the sopping cloth.
“No! No, really, keep it.”
“You sure?”
“Yes!”
* *
Ernie brings back the milks to the table where Yoba awaits. She’s so beautiful. And she likes milk!
“Thank you!” says Yoba, smiling, and when she takes her cup from him their hands touch briefly, sending a jolt of electricity through Ernie’s body.
“So, how do you come to be here?” asks Ernie, after he’s recovered with a sip of milk.
“Same as everyone else... except you. A bit of my world was sliced away. It was just me. I was off scouting... wandering, I mean... by myself.”
“So you’re here without your home, your family... without anything, or anyone?” says Ernie, horrified.
“Yes,” says Yoba, though she doesn’t seem as distraught about it as Ernie does on her behalf. “I do often wonder what my friends and family think has happened to me. But I’m sure I’ll find my way back there someday. My country is called Evergreen.”
“That’s a nice name,” says Ernie. “I’m from Dingman’s Ferry myself. It’s just a small village, but it’s home, and I like it. But... what happened then?”
“When I found a Way out of my Slice of Evergreen, I found myself in a very strange place,” says Yoba. “It was a world that was alive. A strange folded...being, I think. It’s hard to describe. It... pushed me around in its folds, until I was forced through a second Way, and into where the Lions live. And then to here. And this seems like a good place to me. I don’t know how I feel about Peralta, but I don’t entirely discount what she says. I thought I could do some good here. I have some modest healing skills, so I help out Prinn and Terrence. And in case there’s ever any incursions, I can fight. I’m... I’m quite skilled. At fighting. So, here I am. But your life has probably been much more interesting than mine. Tell me about your adventures with your friends!”
* *
The rest of the Company can’t help but smile at the sight of Ernie animatedly gesturing to an attentive Yoba, as he tells her the tales of their various quests. Only Morningstar, always suspecting, worries that Ernie might end up giving away secrets that even a paladin of Yondalla oughtn’t be told. But even she finds it difficult to throw any water on Ernie right now.
“You see that halfling over there?” says Dranko to Terrence. “He looks self-effacing, but he’s our leader. He’s the most qualified fighting man I’ve ever met. A born leader. If anyone asks, spread the word.”
Aravis can’t help but add: “In fact, he slew all his rivals back home.”
The others nod, trying their darndest not to laugh.
“But he’s a man of good heart,” adds Dranko, when Terrence starts to look nervous again. “So, how do you reckon we can help around here?”
“What can you do?” asks Terrence, casting a last worried glance at Ernie.
“We can heal,” says Dranko. “We’re very good at healing.”
“We usually have enough healing to meet the town’s need,” says Terrence. “Can you...uh, can you farm?”
“Not very well,” admits Dranko. “But I can do this. Want another drink?”
Dranko brings up his whip, and quick as anything curls the end around a mug of ale on the tray of a passing barmaid. With a deft flick he snaps the mug into his empty hand with only a minimum of spillage, and hands it to Terrence with a smile.
“Er... thank you,” says Terrence “I don’t... I don’t know that we need people for that, but... most impressive, I assure you. Um. If you don’t farm, can you build?”
“I can whip people do make them work harder,” says Dranko, leering. “Does that count?”
“That’s awful!” exclaims Terrence.
“I’m kidding,” says Dranko, shaking his head. “I only whip bad guys.”
“Kidding, of course! Ha ha!” Terrence’s laugh has reached new heights of nervousness.
“What he’s really good at is making off-color jokes,” says Grey Wolf.
“And blustering,” adds Aravis. “Don’t forget blustering.”
A tall, rangy man, standing almost six and a half feet and moving like a warrior, comes up and puts his hand on Terrence’s shoulder.
“Terrence isn’t boring you to death, is he?” asks the man, flashing a rakish smile.
“No, not at all,” says Dranko. “Terrence has been incredibly helpful.”
“Jack!” says Terrence, though his smile is forced. “Er... hi!”
“Incredibly helpful?” says Jack. “Good for you, Terrence!” Jack slaps Terrence on the back so hard that the little priest rocks forward and spills some of his ale.”
“Don’t you think that’s a little rude?” asks Dranko flatly.
“Oh, it’s all in good fun,” laughs Jack.
Dranko’s not smiling. “Terrence, are you having fun with this guy?” he asks.
Terrence looks from Jack, to Dranko, back to Jack again, wondering what the right answer is.
* *
Ernie, noticing this exchange on the other side of the room, pauses in his narrative to ask Yoba, “Who’s that?”
“Oh, that’s Jack,” says Yoba. “He’s kind of a scoundrel, but I think he means well.”
“Well, I don’t like to see little guys like that get pushed around.”
“Jack’s always looking to get ahead,” says Yoba. “He looks for the angle. He doesn’t trust people very much, and doesn’t expect others to trust him. But he’s not a bad sort.”
“I’ll bet he and Dranko would get along like a house on fire,” says Ernie. “I mean, with people around them screaming and running away.”
Yoba laughs. It’s the most beautiful sound Ernie has ever heard.
“Dranko,” says Ernie with a sigh. “He seems like quite the character. But like I said, his heart’s in the right place. And I should know... I heal it often enough!”
Yoba laughs again, and Ernie is positively flushed with happiness that she enjoys his jokes. That, or the milk is going to his head.
* *
“Jack,” says Dranko, sounding as serious as he can. “You might want to be careful pickin’ on guys smaller than you. Otherwise I might have to get my friend over there to beat you up.” He points at Ernie.
Jack looks over, but doesn’t’ take the bait. “I’m not picking on anyone, sir,” he says, just as seriously. “I’m sorry, I should have introduced myself. My name is Jack.”
“Dranko Blackhope.” He stands up, and the rest of the Company also introduces themselves. When he shakes Aravis’s hand, Jack says “Nice eyes,” but otherwise seems unimpressed. As he shakes Kibi’s hand, he says, “I had a good friend who was a dwarf. He died in combat, like a true warrior. Nearly died myself in that fight.”
As Jack pulls up a chair, Dranko asks, “So, Jack, where you from? And what we’re you doing when you got Sliced?”
“I was on a job,” says Jack. “A... requisitioning assignment.”
“Oh!” says Dranko. “Stealing stuff! You could have just told us you were a sneak thief. Doesn’t bother us!”
“I’m not just a sneak thief,” says Jack with an easy smile. “I have many abilities.”
“It looks like you’re a warrior as well,” says Grey Wolf, and Jack nods.
(Ernie is now telling Yoba about the time Grey Wolf was run down by an animated carriage in Tev. Yoba is absolutely entranced.)
“So, you’ve talked to Peralta, I take it,” says Jack. “Whaddya think? What’s her angle?”
“Her angle?” says Dranko, raises his eyebrows. “She’s not charging people, is she? And I don’t think she has a hankering for gems, and is just trying to smoke ‘em out.”
“That thought had occurred to me,” admits Jack.
“I think she’s what she seems to be,” says Aravis.
“Tell you one thing,” says Dranko, looking carefully at Jack’s expression. “If her savior actually does show up, I want a piece of that action. What about you?”
“If I had a good reason to think she’s on the up and up, and we really were going to get out of here,” says Jack casually. “I’ve only been here a few weeks. Of the four of us who were on the job, I’m the only one left.”
“What, you kill ‘em and take their stuff?” asks Dranko with a laugh. Jack doesn’t look amused.
“That’s not funny,” he says, glowering.
“I’m sorry they died,” says Dranko, quickly becoming serious.
“Yeah, me too. They were killed by... Duergar, I think they’re called. Evil dwarves.”
“Yeah, well, Kibi here’s not evil,” says Dranko. “You can tell by the way he braids his beard.”
“I think you can tell something like that just by looking at a person,” says Jack. “You for instance. I don’t think you’re evil either, even though you look it.”
Dranko notices that Jack’s got a rapier, and four obviously-magical daggers strapped to his chest. He points to a distant support beam near a wall of the common room, where there aren’t any patrons.
“Say. I’ll bet you a silver piece that you can’t hit that knot – the one that looks like a rabbit – with one of your daggers.”
Jack glances over his shoulder. With an easy motion he pulls a dagger from its holster and flips it backhanded, not even bothering to watch its flight. It strikes dead in the center of the knot. While the Company stares, he holds up his hand. The dagger quivers, pulls itself free of the post, and flies back into his hand.
“That was worth it!” says Dranko, genuinely impressed.
“Keep the money,” says Jack, smiling. “But yeah, I’d want a ‘piece of the action’ if I thought there was something to it. ‘Course, I’d have to be awfully convinced. I assume you’ve seen the...remains.”
“Remains?” asks Grey Wolf. “No, we haven’t. What remains?”
“The stuff they’ve pulled out of the Black Door. The bits tied to ropes they’ve pulled out. Limbs, mostly. Torsos. I don’t think they have any heads. The remains are buried – I’ve never seen them. Peralta’s little guy, who runs around keeping the torches lit... he buries ‘em.”
* *
“And then there was this giant insane dragon!” says Ernie. “Flicker almost got eaten, and...”
Yoba has not looked away during the entire tale, a fact which has not gone unnoticed by Ernie, and which really is going to his head like strong drink. Morningstar decides that someone ought to be over there with them, to stop Ernie before he can say something that’s supposed to be a secret.
“I think I’ll join those two,” she says, pointing at the pair of halflings.
“Good luck,” says Dranko. “Should we tie a rope to you?”
“We can count to ten Abernathys and pull you out,” says Kibi.
Morningstar laughs, and wanders over to where Ernie is telling his tale.
“...and Aravis was able to stop the Emperor from invading,” says Ernie. “So all that was left to do was the mopping up. It was huge battle, but we won!”
“Ernest, may I join you?” Morningstar has appeared at their table. Ernie hadn’t noticed her approach.
“Of course!” says Ernie, shocked out of his reverie. “Yoba, this is my friend Morningstar. She’s a priestess of Ell.”
“Goddess of Darkness and Dreams,” adds Morningstar.
“Well, any friend of Ernie’s...” says Yoba pleasantly. “Ernie has been telling me the most amazing stories of your adventures! I assume you were there with the insane Dragon, while armies were pouring through magical gateways. I’ve never heard anything so fantastic! I’ve been in my share of battles, but nothing like that. Incredible! You must be famous heroes back in Abernia.”
Hearing it put like that, Ernie does suddenly think that he may have been saying too much. Grasping for a more innocuous subject, he says, “Well, we did have a parade...”
“You did? A parade? For you?” Yoba’s eyes are shining with admiration.
“For all of us,” Ernie adds hastily. “Morningstar here was in it, too. Er... so, what kind of battles have you been in?”
“Mostly battles against the goblin empire,” says Yoba. “It’s the biggest threat to Evergreen. The Goblins control almost a third of Treya. And I’m... well, I’m... I’m the Commander of the Southern Border.”
Now it’s Ernie’s turn to gawk. “Really? And I’ve been babbling away all this time. I’m just an adventurer.”
“I’ve killed lost of goblins,” continues Yoba. “But I also spend a lot of time in tents, looking at maps, and advising the General as to what the battle plans should be. I was on a scouting expedition for him when I ended up here. I like to see the terrain for myself, and since we occupy most of the high ground along the border, I thought I'd get the lay of the land. See if I could spot anything about goblin troop disposition or formations. I could see a long way from the high hills, and we had plenty of sentries on the hillsides, so I wasn’t in any personal danger.”
“How many people do you command?” Morningstar asks.
“Directly, or down through the hierarchy?” asks Yoba, starting to blush again.
“The whole group,” says Morningstar.
“I’d say... about twenty thousand?”
“Twenty thousand!” squawks Ernie. “I’m lucky if I can just get Dranko to do what I ask!”
“There are plenty of people with greater fighting prowess than me,” says Yoba, clearly self-conscious. “It’s humbling to command them. But I have a good head for strategy. I... I studied a long time.”
Across the room the rest of the Company is laughing uproariously, making “ten Abernathy” jokes and wondering if Morningstar herself now needs rescuing. Yoba can’t hear what they’re saying, but smiles at Ernie and Morningstar.
“You have nice friends,” she says.
“Yes, I do!” says Ernie, waving at the rest of the Company. This causes them to come over, and Yoba can’t help but stare for a minute at Aravis’s eyes. Then she quickly apologizes for staring.
“Were you born that way?” she asks, fascinated.
“No. It was the result of a magical ritual.”
“I think I understand,” says Yoba. “We have several wizards in the military. One of them has strange skin. Not in the same way you do, but it was from an experiment that went awry.”
Morningstar start to introduce Yoba as ‘Commander,’ but the halfling interrupts.
“Just Yoba, please. Yoba Stoutheart. I’m not commanding anyone here.”
“I’m Sir Dranko, of the Spire Guard. Like Ernie here.”
“You’re a knight?” asks Yoba, turning to Ernie. “You didn’t tell me that! What’s the Spire Guard? Tell me all about it!
In the middle of the explanation, a stout dwarf comes marching over to their now-crowded table. He’s not armored, but wears a hammer at his belt and what looks like a holy symbol around his neck. It’s design is a plain stone shield.
“Hey there!” he says gruffly.
Yoba turns and smiles at the newcomer. “Kiro, welcome. You should meet my new friends.”
After the round of introductions, Kibi says, “I haven’t seen many dwarves around here.”
“Yeah, me neither,” says Kiro. “Nice to see a true dwarf. Better than a Duergar!”
“Where are you from?” asks Kibi. “Are you a warrior?”
“Decent enough, but I’m a priest by trade,” says Kiro.
“Of Moradin?”
“No. Of Vigus, the Defender. But I have fought plenty, including some nasty stuff just to get here. First is was Yeti in some snowy Slice, and then some Wyverns. You ever fought a Yeti?”
“Not Yeti,” says Dranko with a smirk, and sending Kiro into howls of laughter.
“How do you fight against Yeti?” asks Kibi.
“Same way I fight most things,” says Kiro, grinning. “Off with their kneecaps!”
Dranko thinks, If he were any more dwarfish, he’d vomit rocks.
“I was down in the tunnels under our mountain, me and a buddy,” explains Kiro, when Kibi presses him for more details. “On our way to spar, so I had a weapon on me, thank Vigus. Anyhow, I look back after he doesn’t respond to a joke, and he’s just standing there not moving, And I couldn’t reach him, like there was an invisible wall between us. Just a Slice boundary, though I didn’t know it at the time. So, I figured I’d go get help. But damned if there wasn’t a blue Way blocking the tunnel in the other direction. I went through it, and found myself somewhere cold, snow everywhere. That’s where I fought the Yeti. That was about three years ago. I help out Prinn and Terrence, just like Yoba here. It’s a decent enough place, but I miss my home.”
“Say, isn’t there an orc around here somewhere?” asks Dranko, figuring a dwarf would know.
“Yeah,” says Kiro, who starts laughing again at the thought. “He’s... heh... he’s learned to stay away from me. Heh. Not that I ever laid a hand on him, mind you.”
“You have a problem with orcs then?” challenges Dranko.
“I don’t have a problem with you, if that’s what you mean,” says Kiro.
The dwarf goes on to describe the Slime Tunnels. The Slimes, he says, are supposedly alive, and will attack anyone who tries to traverse the subterranean ways, or so he’s heard. “’Garg the Great’ came out them pretty much unharmed,” says Kiro, scratching under his beard. “He always claims he’s gonna go back, get a whole bunch of orcs, and take over the place. But he’s full of hot air.”
At the Company’s request, Kiro gives them directions to where they can find Porridge. “Has a little house,” says Kiro. “Keeps to himself. Prinn brings him food, to make sure he eats. He’s crazy.”
“Curable?” asks Morningstar.
“Prinn doesn’t think so,” answers Kiro, shaking his head. “She says something in his mind is broken, and no one can fix it.”
“Well, wonderful meeting you,” says Kibi.
The party decides to pay Porridge a visit right then, and all rise from the table.
“Poor guy,” says Yoba. “Prinn has tried her most powerful curatives. And I’ve heard that a priest who is no longer here tried the prayer of heal on him, and even that did not restore him.”
“We have some things we can try,” says Ernie. “Would you like to come with us?”
“Of course!” answers Yoba.
And so they take their leave of the Wily Warthog, to see what they can learn from the one man who’s returned alive from beyond the Black Door.
...to be continued...
Last edited:
Jackylhunter
First Post
Cool Stuff!!
Ernie and Yoba, sittin in a tree, K.I.S.S.I.N.G...
Ernie and Yoba, sittin in a tree, K.I.S.S.I.N.G...
Similar Threads
