KidCthulhu
First Post
Believe me when I say we didn't feel like we'd been let off easy. Taffeon was bad, bad, bad. Not all scarey, dangerous encounters involve combat.
Sagiro's Story Hour Returns (new thread started on 5/18/08)
- Thread starter Sagiro
- Start date
KidCthulhu
First Post
Which means "let's find him and do something embarrassing to him". It's not a brilliant plan, but it is a predictable plan.
RangerWickett
Legend
And really, predictable plans are the greatest love of all . . . er, um, no, sorry, that's not quite right.
Fish! Fish is the greatest love of all!
Fish! Fish is the greatest love of all!
LightPhoenix
First Post
RangerWickett said:
Once you've had fish, you never go back?
Sagiro
Rodent of Uncertain Parentage
Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 238
Out of the Abyss
“I should warn you about where we’re going next.”
The Marilith Queylic slithers ahead of the Company, while the two Vrock hunch and flap restlessly behind them. Around them is the omnipresent murmur of a thousand damned souls, the song of the Abyss.
“You should have the means to protect yourselves from flies,” she says.
“Flies?” echoes Dranko, making a face. “Ugh.”
“And they’ll be particularly hungry,” adds Queylic. “Ordinarily they are corpse-eating flies, but the supply of fresh corpses has dwindled of late. I suggest you make your preparations before we go to the next Slice. Once there, they will make it difficult to cast spells.”
“How long will our protections have to last?” asks Aravis.
“You will have to endure the flies for three hours. And while we’re on the subject, the Slice beyond that is extraordinarily hot. There you will need protection from heat, or you will burst into flames. It will take four hours to cross that one, if things go well.”
For another two hours they trudge through a veritable forest of impaled bodies. Talk turns to their meeting with Tapheon, and Dranko’s transformation in particular. Dranko expects sympathy, but gets little. In his mind the Demon Lord’s torment of him was unjustified. He asked a question honestly, and was made to suffer. Only Aravis sides with this opinion; the others either agree that he spoke unwisely, or stay silent on the subject. Kibi, with an unsurprising absence of tact, remarks, “Dranko, that was just a stupid thing to say. You should consider yourself lucky it wasn’t worse.”
Dranko glares at him for a minute before turning away with a grunt. Kibi shrugs his shoulders, and Dranko is uncharacteristically silent until they reach the Way out. As they draw near to the blue portal, they see a dozen more Vrock and a contingent of Glabrezu waiting for them.
“Are they with you?” asks Grey Wolf.
“They are coming with us. In the Slice beyond the flies – the hot one – we will want a show of force to deter the Magma Demons.”
“Magma Demons?” asks Grey Wolf worriedly. “I don’t like the sound of that...”
“Yes, nasty creatures,” says Queylic. “Now, take what time you need. You probably won’t have seen flies in such quantities.”
Morningstar fills two empty spell slots with repel vermin. During that fifteen minutes Queylic smiles and stares intently at Step, but the paladin just smiles back at her. After the interview with Tapheon, One Certain Step no longer finds the mockery and taunts of the Marilith troubling. Queylic looks disappointed. When Morningstar is ready they step through the Way.
She sure wasn’t kidding about the flies.
The air is filled with their loud, unending drone. The ground is littered with skeletons. And in the air are a million flies, easily the size of bumblebees, swarming as thickly as snow in a blizzard. The nearest of these spot the party and move to feast, only to be thwarted by Morningstar’s spell. Thirty seconds later and the flies have formed an opaque hemisphere around them, thousands of starving vermin desperate for food and buzzing angrily.
There are many utterances on the theme of “Thank you, Ell!”
Queylic’s voice, her actual voice, sounds above the fly-wing din.
“Can you hear me? You’ll have to follow my voice. You’ll be fine – just keep your eyes on the ground.”
While they walk, Queylic talks loudly to keep the Company headed in the right direction. She explains that when the Abyss is working properly, bodies of the damned are falling from the sky all the time in this Layer. The flies feast on the bodies, but of course no corpses have fallen in many years.
“You’d think the flies would have died off without food,” says Dranko.
“These flies can live a long, long time. They are part of how the Abyss works. This Layer is used as a disposal. I guess that in other parts of the Abyss, the real Abyss, they’ve had to improvise to handle the glut of corpses. But that should be an easy problem for the more imaginative Demon Lords.”
“So these flies aren’t for torment, then?” asks Dranko.
“We have plenty of other options for torment,” says Queylic. “There are specific individuals to whom flies are assigned, depending on their transgressions and phobias.”
Abruptly Queylic appears before them, having entered their fly-edged bubble. (The flies bounce harmlessly off of her – a perk of Damage Reduction.)
“We have arrived at the next Way. Are you prepared for the heat?”
They are.
“Beyond the next Slice there is only one more section of the Abyss for you to traverse. It is a large sea of mercury.”
Aravis has an idea, and asks Queylic, “How many miles are we crossing in the next two areas?”
“It’s about ten miles through the hot Slice, and perhaps twenty to the Way that leaves the Abyss entirely.”
“And then what?” asks Dranko.
“I don’t know,” says Queylic. “My knowledge ends where does the Abyss.”
“Should we expect to be attacked in the Slice with the mercury?” asks Dranko.
“No,” says Queylic. “Nothing lives there. Nothing could.”
“But we should expect to be attacked in the fiery place?” Dranko persists.
“Not if I and my entourage are with you,” answers Queylic. “The Magma Demons only attack if they are assured of victory.”
Aravis shares his idea; that they should just wind walk through the next two Slices. Queylic is amenable to this; she and her retinue can teleport to keep up. Spells are cast, and the group of them goes through the Way. After the usual black void of portal travel they emerge into a Slice that is indeed very hot. On the plus side, they do not immediately burst into flames, despite the glowing red air and numerous rivers of molten lava. On the minus side, the Balor Trugoth is there with his own entourage of demons. Once Queylic and her crew arrive, it’s almost a convention.
Queylic regards the Balor towering over her.
“What are you doing here?” she asks haughtily.
Trugoth rumbles, “You thought you could pin it on me? You foolish little girl.”
The Balor grips his enormous flaming sword and speaks to the Company.
“Those demons who attacked you. We were all under strict orders to capture you alive, and yet you were assaulted. Who do you think ordered them? What do you think, Queylic?”
The Company decides that this would be a good time to start turning into mist-form.
“I’m certain I don’t know what you mean,” says Queylic, her six arms starting to reach for her own weapons. “No one would have been foolish enough to...”
“You think you can hide the truth from me, Marilith?” booms Trugoth.
The demons on both sides are starting to snarl and pace. Combat seems imminent.
“Uh, excuse me!” says Dranko, interrupting. “If you could just point the way to the exit, we’ll get out of your way.”
“Your Lord feels strongly that we leave this place safely,” adds Aravis.
Both Queylic and Trugoth point, both in about the same direction, without taking their eyes off of one another.
“I suggest you leave at once,” says Trugoth. “Because when I start to pull the arms off of this Marilith, there may be some... fallout.”
Just as the Company turns gaseous, the fighting breaks out in earnest. The air is filled with rapidly teleporting demons trying to get advantageous tactical positions. Combat both physical and magical explodes all around, and as the Company flees, those who turn around to watch see Trugoth holding up Queylic by the neck, while all six of the Marilith’s blades slash at the Balor’s body.
Flying at two hundred feet above the ground, the Company sees Magma Demons moving about below, bright red specks populating the banks of the lava rivers. Morningstar spots a landing spot safe enough for her to cast find the path, as a precautionary measure in case Queylic and Trugoth’s directions were off. This provokes a small course correction, but they had been heading in about the right direction, and only minutes later they spot the glowing blue light of the Way out. There are several Magma Demons in its vicinity.
The Company lands, goes solid, and Kibi immediately puts up a wall of force shielding them from the demons. Ernie activates his winged shield and flies through the Way to check things out. He is disappointed to find that there is no place to land; the Way opens thirty feet above a flat gray expanse of mercury that stretches as far as the eye can see in every direction.
Ernie comes back just in time to witness a volley of fireballs explode against the wall of force. Dranko, still in a sour mood, gives the Magma Demons the finger. Grey Wolf uses a wand to cast fly on One Certain Step, so that the paladin and Ernie can shuttle the rest of the group through the Way. (Once on the other side, the non-flyers can turn gaseous again while being held up by the flyers.) Ernie and Dranko are the last two to go through, literally pursued by fireballs from some Magma Demons who have figured out the wall of force and gone around it.
Morningstar, last to be carried by Step, casts a new find the path before turning back into mist. Dranko convinces Ernie to fly low enough to allow the half-orc to scoop up a vial of mercury. Mmmmm. Demonic mercury.
Once everyone is back in mist-form the Company flies quickly across the steely gray sea. It looks like solid ground, offering no reflections and betraying not the slightest ripple. Half an hour later they spot the Way out, hanging high in the air. Beneath it, resting atop the mercury, is a huge jumble of bones. On close examination they guess it’s the bones of sixty or seventy humanoid creatures, piled haphazardly.
There’s a quick discussion about how to scout the next Slice, and how to get everyone into it given that they have to be solid to go through the Way. Aravis is the answer to both questions.
First he flies upward until he’s a thousand feet in the air, and then becomes solid. He has enough time while falling to cast overland flight and pull up before diving into the mercury. While the others wait, he flies through the Way.
The first thing he registers upon arrival is the absence of the Abyss’s all-pervading evil nature. It’s a joyous feeling, and he revels in it while taking in his surroundings. These are fairly non-descript; the Way opens onto a deserted dirt road running through a tiny village of simple clay dwellings. There are no signs of inhabitants. Aravis returns to the others, where the despair of the Abyss reasserts itself.
For part two of the plan, he casts a rope trick so that the rope hangs down directly in front of the Way. The rest of the Company flies into the extradimensional space, turns solid inside, then climbs down the rope and swings into the portal. Fortunately no one slips and falls into the mercury.
Everyone enjoys the spiritual uplift now that the Abyss is behind them, but Kibi, paranoid as they draw nearer to the Lord of the Roses, casts a veil to make everyone look like chipmunks. Then he casts prying eyes and sends the sensors out to scout. (Due a surge in the wild magic, he actually gets 30 such eyes, as the spell is spontaneously augmented by the Twin Spell feat.) It’s very quiet as they wait for the eyes to return; there’s nothing besides themselves making any noise at all.
“Do you think you’re ready for atonement? Morningstar asks One Certain Step.
The paladin gazes down the empty street.
“Yes,” he says softly.
“We should cast it now, before we meet the Lord of the Roses,” says Morningstar.
Step nods, but says: “Not here, though. This is not a good place for it. There will still be time, I think.”
Dranko abruptly stands and stalks off. Despite the departure from the Abyss, he has descended into a deep funk, still fuming over the others’ lack of sympathy, and Kibi’s insult in particular. He explores the small clay buildings, finding simple plates and bowls, and primitive furniture.
Half an hour later the first of Kibi’s sensors comes back, having seen nothing interesting. The village is extremely small. If the bones in the sea of mercury came from here, it was probably the whole population. Eventually all the eyes return, collectively painting a picture for Kibi of a small Slice with a cluster of four Ways on the other side of the village. Three of the four are gray and dead.
While the Company is ready to stop traveling for the “day,” they decide to scout out the next Way before going to bed. Dranko volunteers, relishing the chance to be alone, and goes through with the usual rope-around-the-waist precaution. He finds himself standing on a grassy hill at night, under a sky blazing with stars. In the soft starlight he sees many such hills, dotted with trees and stands of sleeping flowers. He hears a rustling nearby but it’s only a rabbit munching on some grass. Very faintly he smells the familiar tang of wood-smoke.
He comes back and reports, sullen.
“Habitable,” he shrugs. “Nice. Bunnies and flowers.”
Step wants to check it out, and Dranko accompanies him. For a minute the two of them stand there side by side, gazing out upon the starlit grass.
“What’s the matter?” asks Step quietly.
“Nothing,” says Dranko crossly.
“If you don’t want to talk about it,” says Step with a wry smile, “you can say ‘I don’t want to talk about it.’”
Dranko can’t help but crack a small smile himself. He turns to Step and says, “I’m not ready yet.”
Step nods. “I understand. I’ll listen, when you’re ready.”
The paladin looks around and sniffs the air. “It seems good, but I won’t know for sure until the sun is out.”
At Dranko's suggestion he decides to camp there, so that he can watch the sun rise the next morning. The two of them stay there while the rest sleep back in the village, a precautionary rope stretched between Slices just in case.
* *
Dranko wakes to find One Certain Step watching a gorgeous sunrise. The sun itself is twice the size of the one that rises over Kivia, casting its early light across a pristine countryside painted with blossoming trees and flowers. A sunrise chorus of birds sings in the boughs. From a couple of valleys over a thin thread of smoke rises, as if from a campfire or chimney.
Step sighs contentedly.
“This place will do.”
...to be continued...
Out of the Abyss
“I should warn you about where we’re going next.”
The Marilith Queylic slithers ahead of the Company, while the two Vrock hunch and flap restlessly behind them. Around them is the omnipresent murmur of a thousand damned souls, the song of the Abyss.
“You should have the means to protect yourselves from flies,” she says.
“Flies?” echoes Dranko, making a face. “Ugh.”
“And they’ll be particularly hungry,” adds Queylic. “Ordinarily they are corpse-eating flies, but the supply of fresh corpses has dwindled of late. I suggest you make your preparations before we go to the next Slice. Once there, they will make it difficult to cast spells.”
“How long will our protections have to last?” asks Aravis.
“You will have to endure the flies for three hours. And while we’re on the subject, the Slice beyond that is extraordinarily hot. There you will need protection from heat, or you will burst into flames. It will take four hours to cross that one, if things go well.”
For another two hours they trudge through a veritable forest of impaled bodies. Talk turns to their meeting with Tapheon, and Dranko’s transformation in particular. Dranko expects sympathy, but gets little. In his mind the Demon Lord’s torment of him was unjustified. He asked a question honestly, and was made to suffer. Only Aravis sides with this opinion; the others either agree that he spoke unwisely, or stay silent on the subject. Kibi, with an unsurprising absence of tact, remarks, “Dranko, that was just a stupid thing to say. You should consider yourself lucky it wasn’t worse.”
Dranko glares at him for a minute before turning away with a grunt. Kibi shrugs his shoulders, and Dranko is uncharacteristically silent until they reach the Way out. As they draw near to the blue portal, they see a dozen more Vrock and a contingent of Glabrezu waiting for them.
“Are they with you?” asks Grey Wolf.
“They are coming with us. In the Slice beyond the flies – the hot one – we will want a show of force to deter the Magma Demons.”
“Magma Demons?” asks Grey Wolf worriedly. “I don’t like the sound of that...”
“Yes, nasty creatures,” says Queylic. “Now, take what time you need. You probably won’t have seen flies in such quantities.”
Morningstar fills two empty spell slots with repel vermin. During that fifteen minutes Queylic smiles and stares intently at Step, but the paladin just smiles back at her. After the interview with Tapheon, One Certain Step no longer finds the mockery and taunts of the Marilith troubling. Queylic looks disappointed. When Morningstar is ready they step through the Way.
She sure wasn’t kidding about the flies.
The air is filled with their loud, unending drone. The ground is littered with skeletons. And in the air are a million flies, easily the size of bumblebees, swarming as thickly as snow in a blizzard. The nearest of these spot the party and move to feast, only to be thwarted by Morningstar’s spell. Thirty seconds later and the flies have formed an opaque hemisphere around them, thousands of starving vermin desperate for food and buzzing angrily.
There are many utterances on the theme of “Thank you, Ell!”
Queylic’s voice, her actual voice, sounds above the fly-wing din.
“Can you hear me? You’ll have to follow my voice. You’ll be fine – just keep your eyes on the ground.”
While they walk, Queylic talks loudly to keep the Company headed in the right direction. She explains that when the Abyss is working properly, bodies of the damned are falling from the sky all the time in this Layer. The flies feast on the bodies, but of course no corpses have fallen in many years.
“You’d think the flies would have died off without food,” says Dranko.
“These flies can live a long, long time. They are part of how the Abyss works. This Layer is used as a disposal. I guess that in other parts of the Abyss, the real Abyss, they’ve had to improvise to handle the glut of corpses. But that should be an easy problem for the more imaginative Demon Lords.”
“So these flies aren’t for torment, then?” asks Dranko.
“We have plenty of other options for torment,” says Queylic. “There are specific individuals to whom flies are assigned, depending on their transgressions and phobias.”
Abruptly Queylic appears before them, having entered their fly-edged bubble. (The flies bounce harmlessly off of her – a perk of Damage Reduction.)
“We have arrived at the next Way. Are you prepared for the heat?”
They are.
“Beyond the next Slice there is only one more section of the Abyss for you to traverse. It is a large sea of mercury.”
Aravis has an idea, and asks Queylic, “How many miles are we crossing in the next two areas?”
“It’s about ten miles through the hot Slice, and perhaps twenty to the Way that leaves the Abyss entirely.”
“And then what?” asks Dranko.
“I don’t know,” says Queylic. “My knowledge ends where does the Abyss.”
“Should we expect to be attacked in the Slice with the mercury?” asks Dranko.
“No,” says Queylic. “Nothing lives there. Nothing could.”
“But we should expect to be attacked in the fiery place?” Dranko persists.
“Not if I and my entourage are with you,” answers Queylic. “The Magma Demons only attack if they are assured of victory.”
Aravis shares his idea; that they should just wind walk through the next two Slices. Queylic is amenable to this; she and her retinue can teleport to keep up. Spells are cast, and the group of them goes through the Way. After the usual black void of portal travel they emerge into a Slice that is indeed very hot. On the plus side, they do not immediately burst into flames, despite the glowing red air and numerous rivers of molten lava. On the minus side, the Balor Trugoth is there with his own entourage of demons. Once Queylic and her crew arrive, it’s almost a convention.
Queylic regards the Balor towering over her.
“What are you doing here?” she asks haughtily.
Trugoth rumbles, “You thought you could pin it on me? You foolish little girl.”
The Balor grips his enormous flaming sword and speaks to the Company.
“Those demons who attacked you. We were all under strict orders to capture you alive, and yet you were assaulted. Who do you think ordered them? What do you think, Queylic?”
The Company decides that this would be a good time to start turning into mist-form.
“I’m certain I don’t know what you mean,” says Queylic, her six arms starting to reach for her own weapons. “No one would have been foolish enough to...”
“You think you can hide the truth from me, Marilith?” booms Trugoth.
The demons on both sides are starting to snarl and pace. Combat seems imminent.
“Uh, excuse me!” says Dranko, interrupting. “If you could just point the way to the exit, we’ll get out of your way.”
“Your Lord feels strongly that we leave this place safely,” adds Aravis.
Both Queylic and Trugoth point, both in about the same direction, without taking their eyes off of one another.
“I suggest you leave at once,” says Trugoth. “Because when I start to pull the arms off of this Marilith, there may be some... fallout.”
Just as the Company turns gaseous, the fighting breaks out in earnest. The air is filled with rapidly teleporting demons trying to get advantageous tactical positions. Combat both physical and magical explodes all around, and as the Company flees, those who turn around to watch see Trugoth holding up Queylic by the neck, while all six of the Marilith’s blades slash at the Balor’s body.
Flying at two hundred feet above the ground, the Company sees Magma Demons moving about below, bright red specks populating the banks of the lava rivers. Morningstar spots a landing spot safe enough for her to cast find the path, as a precautionary measure in case Queylic and Trugoth’s directions were off. This provokes a small course correction, but they had been heading in about the right direction, and only minutes later they spot the glowing blue light of the Way out. There are several Magma Demons in its vicinity.
The Company lands, goes solid, and Kibi immediately puts up a wall of force shielding them from the demons. Ernie activates his winged shield and flies through the Way to check things out. He is disappointed to find that there is no place to land; the Way opens thirty feet above a flat gray expanse of mercury that stretches as far as the eye can see in every direction.
Ernie comes back just in time to witness a volley of fireballs explode against the wall of force. Dranko, still in a sour mood, gives the Magma Demons the finger. Grey Wolf uses a wand to cast fly on One Certain Step, so that the paladin and Ernie can shuttle the rest of the group through the Way. (Once on the other side, the non-flyers can turn gaseous again while being held up by the flyers.) Ernie and Dranko are the last two to go through, literally pursued by fireballs from some Magma Demons who have figured out the wall of force and gone around it.
Morningstar, last to be carried by Step, casts a new find the path before turning back into mist. Dranko convinces Ernie to fly low enough to allow the half-orc to scoop up a vial of mercury. Mmmmm. Demonic mercury.
Once everyone is back in mist-form the Company flies quickly across the steely gray sea. It looks like solid ground, offering no reflections and betraying not the slightest ripple. Half an hour later they spot the Way out, hanging high in the air. Beneath it, resting atop the mercury, is a huge jumble of bones. On close examination they guess it’s the bones of sixty or seventy humanoid creatures, piled haphazardly.
There’s a quick discussion about how to scout the next Slice, and how to get everyone into it given that they have to be solid to go through the Way. Aravis is the answer to both questions.
First he flies upward until he’s a thousand feet in the air, and then becomes solid. He has enough time while falling to cast overland flight and pull up before diving into the mercury. While the others wait, he flies through the Way.
The first thing he registers upon arrival is the absence of the Abyss’s all-pervading evil nature. It’s a joyous feeling, and he revels in it while taking in his surroundings. These are fairly non-descript; the Way opens onto a deserted dirt road running through a tiny village of simple clay dwellings. There are no signs of inhabitants. Aravis returns to the others, where the despair of the Abyss reasserts itself.
For part two of the plan, he casts a rope trick so that the rope hangs down directly in front of the Way. The rest of the Company flies into the extradimensional space, turns solid inside, then climbs down the rope and swings into the portal. Fortunately no one slips and falls into the mercury.
Everyone enjoys the spiritual uplift now that the Abyss is behind them, but Kibi, paranoid as they draw nearer to the Lord of the Roses, casts a veil to make everyone look like chipmunks. Then he casts prying eyes and sends the sensors out to scout. (Due a surge in the wild magic, he actually gets 30 such eyes, as the spell is spontaneously augmented by the Twin Spell feat.) It’s very quiet as they wait for the eyes to return; there’s nothing besides themselves making any noise at all.
“Do you think you’re ready for atonement? Morningstar asks One Certain Step.
The paladin gazes down the empty street.
“Yes,” he says softly.
“We should cast it now, before we meet the Lord of the Roses,” says Morningstar.
Step nods, but says: “Not here, though. This is not a good place for it. There will still be time, I think.”
Dranko abruptly stands and stalks off. Despite the departure from the Abyss, he has descended into a deep funk, still fuming over the others’ lack of sympathy, and Kibi’s insult in particular. He explores the small clay buildings, finding simple plates and bowls, and primitive furniture.
Half an hour later the first of Kibi’s sensors comes back, having seen nothing interesting. The village is extremely small. If the bones in the sea of mercury came from here, it was probably the whole population. Eventually all the eyes return, collectively painting a picture for Kibi of a small Slice with a cluster of four Ways on the other side of the village. Three of the four are gray and dead.
While the Company is ready to stop traveling for the “day,” they decide to scout out the next Way before going to bed. Dranko volunteers, relishing the chance to be alone, and goes through with the usual rope-around-the-waist precaution. He finds himself standing on a grassy hill at night, under a sky blazing with stars. In the soft starlight he sees many such hills, dotted with trees and stands of sleeping flowers. He hears a rustling nearby but it’s only a rabbit munching on some grass. Very faintly he smells the familiar tang of wood-smoke.
He comes back and reports, sullen.
“Habitable,” he shrugs. “Nice. Bunnies and flowers.”
Step wants to check it out, and Dranko accompanies him. For a minute the two of them stand there side by side, gazing out upon the starlit grass.
“What’s the matter?” asks Step quietly.
“Nothing,” says Dranko crossly.
“If you don’t want to talk about it,” says Step with a wry smile, “you can say ‘I don’t want to talk about it.’”
Dranko can’t help but crack a small smile himself. He turns to Step and says, “I’m not ready yet.”
Step nods. “I understand. I’ll listen, when you’re ready.”
The paladin looks around and sniffs the air. “It seems good, but I won’t know for sure until the sun is out.”
At Dranko's suggestion he decides to camp there, so that he can watch the sun rise the next morning. The two of them stay there while the rest sleep back in the village, a precautionary rope stretched between Slices just in case.
* *
Dranko wakes to find One Certain Step watching a gorgeous sunrise. The sun itself is twice the size of the one that rises over Kivia, casting its early light across a pristine countryside painted with blossoming trees and flowers. A sunrise chorus of birds sings in the boughs. From a couple of valleys over a thin thread of smoke rises, as if from a campfire or chimney.
Step sighs contentedly.
“This place will do.”
...to be continued...
Last edited by a moderator:
Sagiro
Rodent of Uncertain Parentage
wedgeski said:
According to my notes, the Story Hour is in the middle of run #168. The actual game has had 178 runs, so the answer is: 10 runs behind, or about 7 months. Measured another way, there are about 40 hours of gaming between then and now.
Or, by the most daunting metric, 20 cassette tapes worth.
-Sagiro
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