The Chronicle of Burne, and Some Others of Lesser Importance *Updated May 17th, 2009*

[Mallus]

Disclaimer: I take full responsibility for all the David Bowie references. This adventure was inspired by Bowie's "Hunky Dory", an album I had just rediscovered as I was writing it. Okay, so there's a good bit of the song "Diamond Dogs" in it too, but how could I pass up naming an Abyssal Lillend "The Meanest Little Hussy with the Ghost-Town Approach"?

It was a suprisingly good fit. I took Bowie's transvestite prostitute and turned him into a weredog transvestite part-time prostitute/part-time cult leader. For those interested, the Queen and her minions worshipped The Dreamer Out of Time, aka Dhalberg, god of Boredom, Madness, and Outer Space, in the guise of his avatar Ziggy Stardust.

Rolzup left out a lot of the more obscure references; the summoned rats being described as 'the mice in their million hordes', the fact that 'sailors' and 'caveman' were 'fighting in the Dancehall', the fact the Dancehall had a little metal plaque over the door that read 'Is there life on Mars?', or the full description of the Queen, 'in her satin and tat, with a frock coat and bibberty-bopperty hat'.

Ok, I'll never do that again, but it was an interesting experiment in looking for alternate sources of inspiration.

 

[Rolzup]

Devotion to Duty

Well, my friends, I was none too happy with the situation. It was clear that we had to follow Fancy through that Gate, but that meant that I had to leave me darlin' Duchess behind. Never got around to getting her gate-marked, y'see...although I'm going to fix that before the week's out, mind you.

I wasn’t worried about her, you understand. Duchess can take damned good care of herself -- can't ya, me girl? Aye, that's the lass! -- but it felt wrong, not havin' her by me side. But what choice did we have? I wasn't about to let that bastard escape, and neither were the Crazy Bastards.

So one we went, up the ramp and through the Gate. Duchess just kept givin' me this look, and I...I had to turn away, I did.

Here, now, girl! Did I want to leave you? No, I didn't, and I've just said as much! But it all worked out in the end, dinnit? That's right...give 'er another, Gerard, if ye would.

Anyways. I've been in many a sewer, my friends, and I've seen things what would turn your hair white. But then and there, I saw something I never thought I'd see.

A clean sewer. More than clean, it was all...sanitary, even. Even smelled clean, and that threw me a bit. Truth be told, I even think we were all a bit cleaner for havin' gone through that Gate. Handy trick, that.

But Fancy, he'd still left a trail. Not much of one, but enough for the Bloody Archer to follow. The water ran through the center of the tunnel, see, and there was a walkway on either side. White marble, even, and was there so much as a smudge to be seen? No, friends, not a bit of it.

Wet feet, though. Those leave a sign, even if not for long. And the Archer, why, his eyes are sharp as sharp! On we went, hot on Fancy's trail. What we found, though? That was something of a surprise, I confess.

I've had conversations with many a strange creature, friends. Never expected to find myself addressed by a pool of water, though. Never in a million years. But that's what happened, and Oroborous can strike me dead if I'm tellin' you false. Rose up in a column, and you could just see that it was wearin'a helmet, and carryin' a shield, also of water.

And on the shield, as we stared at it, I could see four letter. IWSD, they were.

None of ye recognize that? None of ye? Sad, what passes for an education, these days. That's the Imperial Water and Sewer Department's sigil, damn it! None too common these days, I admit, but even so!

Ah, well.

No, Gerard, if it had a name, I can't recall it. Had a job, though. Keepin' the sewer clean, and keepin' the riff-raff out. And friends, it seems we were riff-raff. Now, I tried talkin' to the thing, and the Pretty Man likewise, but it was none too eager to listen. We ran, and I ain't ashamed to admit it. Even the Mad Bastards knew better than to take on something like that.

And truth be told? I don't think that the Pretty Man would have seen the point in tryin'. No blood, y'see? No guts to spill. And that's what he lives for, him.

It called out to us as we ran, though. Kinda sad, like. "Tell the Emperor I've done a good job," it begged us. "And could he please let me go now?" Wonder how long the poor damned thing's been stuck there, eh? Been a full thousand years since we had an emperor, innit?

We managed to keep on Fancy's trail; now, how [he got past the water-beast, I ain't gonna guess. But he took another Gate to do it, and left the same sort of stuff behind him. Ashes, mainly. Burnt monkey-bones, from what the Pretty Man's hannu servant said. And he'd know, I suppose.

We were gettin' ready to go through, when we heard a noise from behind us. Never even saw the Bastards move, but they had weapons in hand 'fore I could even blink. They stayed their hands, though, and damned good thing too! 'cause there was Duchess, covered in ash, trottin' along as happy as you please.

Didn't I tell ye all that she's a smart girl?

 

[pogre]

Excellent! Bonus for the Bowie references! In highschool I had a friend base some adventures off stairway to heaven - um yeah, it was pretty bad.

Anyway, I'm enjoying your writing and the story - keep up the good work!

 

[Rolzup]

(Ooops! Accidentally re-posted the previous installment! Here's the correct one.)

Chuul Be Sorry

Next place we found ourselves, it wasn't nearly so clean and tidy. More like the sewers I know and love, it was.

The sluice slanted down into the darkness, and between the Bloody Archer's eyes and Duchess' nose, Fancy'd left a clear trail. We made our way down, the others slippin' and slidin' and tryin' not to fall on their arses. Me, I was rock steady. Always am, in the sewers.

Ended up in a little chamber, maybe 15' square. Old masonry, solid Eirisian stuff. Say what you like about 'em, but the Erisians knew how to build a sewer, and bless 'em for that! But there was a little stone platform risin' up from outta the filth, and a big metal door, still standin' open.

And even I could see Fancy's footprints on the stone.

We were expectin' a trap by now. Seemed obvious, really. So when we went through the door, we went all cautious and slow. And we found ourselves in a big damned room, steppin' onto a walkway that crossed from one end to the other. Stretch of maybe fifty feet, I think, and as narrow and slippery as a lawyer's sense a' ethics.

Like that one, do you, Gerard? Aye, well, I been savin' that for the proper occasion.

But anyway, there's a pool of water right below the walkway, maybe a man's height below. Nasty lookin' water, too -- all grey, and scummy. Odd thing was, there was a wall across the roo, runnin' parallel to the walkway. Made a' glass, or crystal, or some-like. It was cracked, and broken, and older'n hell. And there was a metal gate, too, the bars all bent outta shape, near the base of the wall.

No, nothin' at all ominous about that, was there?

The Pretty Man went across first. Almost glidin', like. He's smooth, that one. Odd thing was, he had a knife held up to his face the whole time, almost like he was lookin' through it. Must be some sorta Azikhanni thing...one of them rituals, like drinkin' tea, or killin's themselves.

The Bloody Archer followed on behind him, lookin' from place to place, bow drawn and ready. Nothin' happened, and maybe he got impatient, or somethin'. But he picked up a rock, and set it to glowin' -- it's a minor magic, that, once I can do me own self -- and tossed it into the water. And things proceeded on to get really damned nasty.

This...thing came up out of the water. Not the worst thing I ever seen in the sewers, but damn near. Some lizard, some crab, all ugly. And twice the size of a man, too. Went right for the Archer, with Duchess and me standin' right by his side.

And that's when Fancy stepped outta the shadows. Threw a knife at the Pretty Man, and took him in the shoulder, but did that stop him? Not a bit of it. Damn near flew across the walkway, leapin' right over a puddle of oil Fancy'd left for him, and drew down on the bastard.

And the Pretty Man missed him. Tells you somethin' about Fancy, that. Two a' them dueled for a while, slicin' back and forth, 'til Fancy stepped back into the shadows and through another Gate.

Meanwhile, we had problems all our own. That damned crawdad was a touch customer, and it surely didn't care for the Archer. It had 'im in its mouth, and was gettin' ready to bite 'im in half, when the Pretty Man came runnin' back. Jumped right onto the things back, he did, and looked damned impressive doin' it, too...until he slipped and fell in the water.

Duchess brought the beast down, in the end. Ripped its throat out, in point of fact. She's not to be trifled with, my Duchess! It wasn't until then that we noticed the words written on the glass wall, facin' the other direction. Not easy, readin' 'em backwords, but I puzzled it out.

"Please don't feed the Chuul", is said. It is to f----n' laugh, innit?

The Pretty Man's monkey patched him and the Archer up, and we went through the next damned Gate...

 

[HalfOrc HalfBiscuit]

Still reading ... still laughing ... still wanting more.

 

[shilsen]

Still reading ... still laughing ... still wanting more.

And there's even weirder crap coming up very shortly.

Accompanied (completely coincidentally, I assure you) by the appearance of my PC, Meiji "not in the face!" Kitsume.

 

[Rolzup]

Fishers of Men

First thing we noticed, it was cold. Damned cold. Could see my breath hangin' in the air. Even the Pretty Man shivered a bit, although the Bloody Archer didn't turn a hair. We were standin' in a cavern, natural lookin'. It was dark, and there was a nasty sort of smell in the air.

We were ready for anythin', and expectin' Fancy to come jumpin' out of the shadows at any time. But what did we find, when we made our way to the mouth of the cave? Snow, first thing, with Fancy's tracks showin' plain as plain. And sunlight, nice and bright. We'd obviously come a good long way from the sewers of Narayan.

The monkey, he recognized it as Mt. Parvishta. If you looked real hard, you could just see the Yeti, mining ice from its slopes. Tallest mountain in the world, my friends, and I seen it with my own two eyes.

Ah, it wasn't so great as all that.

It was the fishin' lines, danglin' from a ledge up above our heads, that were the oddest thing. Who goes fishin' in the mountains, and who uses a big ol' haunch of meat for bait?

You want my advice, you don't go askin' question like that. I can guarantee that you won't like the answer.

I'm not sure what those things were. They were small, but they looked pretty damned unpleasant. Ugly little men with red little eyes, and nasty little grins with lots of sharp little teeth. All blurry, like...my eyes just couldn't quite focus on 'em. And they were holdin' fishin' poles.

Even knowin' what I do now, that still don't make much sense.

Didn't take a genius to guess that the little bastards meant us no good, but we were willin' to walk away from 'em without spillin' any blood. We were hot on Fancy's trail, and didn't have any time for this sort of thing. And then the little f-----s went and did
somethin' to Duchess.

Hypnotized 'er, they did. Put 'er in a trance, like. She just started walkin' towards those hooks, a blank sort of look in 'er eyes, and I wasn't about to let that happen.

The Bloody Archer fired first, I think. He usually does, and last too -- if you catch my meanin'. Turned into a nice little scrap real quick after that, with the little bastards droppin' down from their ledge. Things got a bit chancey for a moment there, as the Pretty Man nearly got himself shoved off a cliff, but....

Well. I never seen anything like it, friends, and I wouldn't have believed it if I'd been told it. One of the little guys charged the Pretty Man, see, and he didn't even twitch. Just before he makes contact, the Pretty Man draws his sword and --swear to XXX -- cuts the ugly bastard in half. From top to bottom, I mean. Bisected him, like.

One half fell to the left, the other to the right, and both halves went right off the damned cliff. Hell of a thing, hell of a thing.

We dealt with the other two readily enough. The Archer filled one with arrows, and I beat the other's skull nice and flat. With all of 'em dead, Duchess snapped out of the spell, and glad I was to see it!

There was a fourth one of 'em, though. Not as short as the others, and we couldn't see 'im clean 'cause he was standing so far off, but he didn't seem all the upset with what we'd done. He tossed a leather bag down to us, all festooned with teeth and fringes and stuff. The Pretty Man took it, like it was his due or somethin'.

And hell, maybe it was.

We moved on, followin' Fancy's tracks in the snow, but I don't mind admitting that I kept lookin' over my shoulder. Just in case. They led to another Gate, of course, sittin' in the middle of a damned cold pond. There was a little statue there, carved outta white stone, and I doffed my hat to it as we went on through....

 

[Rolzup]

Here Comes Trouble

It was a sweet relief, so it was, to emerge from that last Gate. The sewers of Narayan, at last! They'd never smelled sweeter!

So to speak.

Turned out we were just across the street from the Maison Chatons, in a dry canal-bed; Fancy was obviously using the foul place as his final bolt-hole. By now, after all we'd been through, the only thing keepin' me goin' was the thought of the beatin' we'd be givin' the bastard when we got our hands on 'im.

We came up onto the street, and gave the back of the Maison a thorough goings-over. Still a fortress, if a gaudy one, and damnably tough nut to crack. I was all for kickin' the door down, but the Pretty Man still wanted to talk, damn his eyes.

And it was just then that another foreigner came struttin' down the street. Another damned Azikhanni, he was. Long moustache, a dress even fancier than the Pretty Man's, and from the look on his face you could tell that he fancied himself the king of the world.

The two Bastards looked at each other, kinda uncomfortable, like they recognized the fellow. And he walked right up and began gabblin' away at them in foreign talk, about Oroborous only knows what. Maybe they were related, or somethin'...I dunno. All I do know is that the crazy bastard threw in his lot with us right then and there.

Justice, Gerard? Maybe so, maybe so...that's what he claimed, at least. Said he'd been in the place, not knowin' what kinda place it was, and had walked out all outraged. Might even have been true...but I doubt it. He didn't seem the sort to be concerned about an outrage like the Maison. No, he was a trouble-maker, pure and simple. That's what I called him, in fact. Trouble.

He gave me his name, sure. But it was more Azikhanni gibble-gabble, and I couldn't be arsed to remember it.

But there they were, chattin' away like it was some kinda tea party, when someone called to us from the top floor of the Maison. Wanted to know what we were about, and I gott admit that was a reasonable enough question. It was Elspeth, the madame of the place, and she didn't sound in the least bit worried.

And the Prettty Man, he starts in with the threats right off. "Give us Fancy," he tells her, polite as can be, "And we will let you live." And the hell of it is, he believed it, too. You could tell. Like he could cut his way through the stone wall around the place, and right through the side of the building.

Maybe he could, even. I wouldn't have been surprised.

They called back and forth for a while, and he managed to convince her that harborin' Fancy was a bad idea. She didn't seem to take all that much convincin', to be honest...she musta known how many bridges he'd already burnt that night.

She wouldn't let the girl go, though. Poor little Calliope. Wouldn't budge on that, damn her. But Fancy? He was on his own. She had him thrown out into the street, 'round the front. Couldn't see it, but we could hear him complainin' about it.

And then...you won't believe it, friends. Gods know, I didn't. Still don't.

The Bastards let Fancy go.

After all that, they let him walk. Well, scamper...he took off like his arse was on fire. But the principal's the same! Man who wants them dead, the man they've chased across the damned world, a man who's set a dozen traps for them....

And they f----n' let him go. Didn't even bother walkin' around front to see him off proper.

It's the dresses they wear, I think. Let's too much air reach the privates, and that can't be good for a man. Muddles their way of thinkin'. There's no other answer.

Why did they let him go? Strange ways men in dresses got, and make no mistake, though he wore tight pants while he led us on that merry chance through the Hell of Crabs and Meat-fishers, I just know Fancy's got a closet full of 'em. Low cut'n sequined. Mark my words.

I'll give 'em this much, though: They still wanted to rescue the girl, and bring the Maison down. So they ain't entirely morally bankrupt. Just crazy.

Trouble did some kinda magic, maybe the Bloody Archer vanish so that he could inflitrate the place from the rear. The rest of us, we went around front to make some noise. As a distraction, like.

The Pretty Man, he actually knocks on the door, still all polite. Truth be told, I wasn't even surprised this time around. I was just kinda numb by this point.

They told us to bugger off, of course. Guards might even have been laughin' at us.

Last damn mistake they ever made.

 

[shilsen]

More on Trouble

The guy that Edouard so aptly named trouble is my PC, Meiji Kitsume. He's, shall we say, not exactly a typically heroic adventurer. For a little bit more of an introduction to the character, here's the background Mallus and I came up with for the character. Plus a little section on his personality:

Background:
Some people say that Meiji is a lying, suave scoundrel who will do anything for a woman and whose unreliability is the only reliable thing about him. And then there are his enemies, who don't say much about him other than, "It's Meiji - kill the bastard!"

That may sound a little mean, but unfortunately for Meiji, it's true. He is a bastard (in more ways than one). Meiji was born as the result of a short liaison between Master Voorae, second son of the noble house of [insert name], and a low-class young geisha called Reitha - or at least so his mother claimed. Young Meiji spent the first dozen years of his life growing up in the odd corners of the bordello Reitha called home. Though his life was more materially comfortable than that of many others (geishas make decent money), being the son of a geisha and the weediest child in his school made his life quite painful in other ways. Often picked upon by both socially superior and physically stronger children, Meiji took refuge in the combination of thick skin, a sardonic sense of humor and a keen wit. He also developed his one constant desire, a fascination with magic, which tales heard and the rare demonstration seen led him to believe could triumph over the physical strength which he did not possess.

With his background, Meiji's interest in magic could have remained a pipe dream if it were not for an unforeseen eventuality - Voorae ascending to the position of master of his House, aided less by natural ability and more by an abysmally undercooked plate of pork momos shared by his father and elder brother (Voorae was a little too squeamish to indulge in the time-honored art of poisoning his seniors). As soon as she heard of the event, Reitha dispatched her son to his 'father', hoping that Voorae would bestow at least some of his new-found wealth on his son. Instead, Meiji returned with a black eye and aching ribs. To his mother's surprise, Meiji was off the next day to his father's estate again. Reitha presumed her son was a little greedier than she had thought, but she was wrong. Meiji was simply certain that Voorae was the only path to the destiny he so craved.

After his guards administered the third consecutive beating to Meiji, the exasperated Voorae (whose aforementioned squeamishness kept Meiji alive) gave in and offered the young boy a substantial payment in return for never bothering him again. Instead of money, Meiji asked for simply the wherewithal to be trained in magic by an accomplished spellcaster. Voorae quickly agreed and had Meiji sent to the family Wu-Jen and Shugenja so that they could discover which path the boy was most suited for. The two spellcasters discovered that Meiji had almost equal potential for both arcane and divine magic. With the two masters unsure who should train the boy, Voorae (not really wishing to waste family resources on him) had Meiji sent to a traveling mystic who was reputed to have magical skills in both areas. To the partial surprise of all concerned, the mystic accepted Meiji on sight.

Meiji's new master was someone referred to as the Venerable Initiate into the Twin Mysteries of the Wu and Shu, but never to her face. She preferred to be called Little Wushu, and her outward appearance was that of a short, round, red-headed girl of about 16. She claimed to be 4000 years old. Which, if it were true, would make her roughly twice as old as the Empire (and human civilization). At other times she claimed to be from 'the future'. She also claimed to be cursed and that the outward signs of the curse include her flame-red hair, her unaging teenage body, and her pathological lying. Unsurprisingly, no respectable religious or scholarly body would have anything to do with her. Especially since she also claimed to be working on what she called her 'Grand Unified Theology', that would streamline the Empire's rather messy and baroque traditional belief system with, she said, a minimum of rhetoric and deicide.

Meiji spent a half dozen years traveling with her, being trained as a shugenja but also learning some wu-jen magic and ways to manipulate all magical energies. Finally, at the age of twenty, Little Wushu claimed that Meiji had completed his apprenticeship and that she was bored with him. Armed with a headful of spells and the money he had earned and saved during their travels, Meiji departed from his master. After visiting his mother, he bestowed most of the money on her and then left. For the next four years, he gallivanted from place to place, developing his magical abilities and using them to gain some degree of wealth and a smidgin of fame (or rather, notoriety).

Personality:
Meiji is not a bad guy. But then he's not really a good guy either. He just happens to care a lot about number one. Though he is not mean enough to harm people simply to benefit himself, neither is he altruistic enough to risk his neck except when it is likely to help him somehow. On the positive side, he has a ready wit and a keen intelligence, is a great drinking companion, very charismatic (especially with the ladies) when he wishes to exert himself, and a very versatile and creative spellcaster. On the negative side, he is an inveterate liar and a braggart, significantly lacking in self-control, and prone to get into trouble. Unknown to just about everyone, Meiji has a considerable lack of self-confidence. His upbringing and background have convinced him that he will always be picked upon, and he deals with this awareness by expressing an exaggerated confidence. Similarly, being a physical coward makes him stick his neck into danger with a feigned bravado. The relationship - or lack thereof - between his parents has ironically made him even more of a rake than his father, untrusting of romantic relations in particular and human relations in general. The fact that his temperament is extremely mercurial does not help matters. Hidden beneath his surface (even from himself), however, Meiji seeks desperately to find people who are willing to accept him for who he is and for his personal skills, rather than viewing him due to his background and past. In many ways, he is his own worst enemy.

 

[Rolzup]

Updates are going to be a little less frequent for a while; currently I am, in the immortal words of Shakespeare, busier than a one-legged man at an ass-kicking contest. Updates shall continue, however!

A Tragic Death

Trouble was mutterin' somethin'; likely some kinda heathen magic. An' the Pretty Man was standin' there fancin' the door, he was. Calm as calm, not an expression on his face. And then...the Pretty Man just blurred. One minute there was a door, the next there were two halves of one. Didn't even see the bastard move.

Had maybe a half-second to see the look on the guard's face -- and, oh, it was priceless! -- 'fore the Pretty Man sliced him up, just like the door.

Messier, though. What with the guts an' all.

Pretty Man strode throught he door like he owned the place, and we followed along behind him, ready for blood. And did we get it? I should say so! The guards came down on us hard, for all the good it did 'em. There was all kinda runnin', and screamin', with people tryin' to escape out the back before we slaughtered 'em all.

And I don't mind sayin', friends, that right then and there, I wouldn't have desitated. Not for one minute. Scum like that deserve death, and worse than death.

Now, the guards, they weren't much of a problem. Me with my club, the Pretty Man with his sword, and the Archer, who'd come poundin' down the stairs as we came in, shootin' 'em from behind, we made short work of 'em. And when Trouble called some kinda light out of the air, and blinded 'em all? Fish in a barrel, they were. But when we got to the lounge, that's when the spells started flyin', and things got a lot tougher.

Went pitch-black, first of all. Like a wall of ink, it was. Couldn't see your own hand in front of your face. Made our job harder, but it didn't help the guards one damn bit either. Trouble did us a good turn by breakin' the darkness somehow, revealin' that the Pretty Man had slipped on somethin' and fallen on his arse, but things just got worse from there.

The Diabolist doin' all the magic said a Word, and the Archer's bow just...exploded. Splinters everywhere. And the Archer? From the look on his face, you'd think that he'd just witnessed the murder of his first-born son. He drew a sword from somwhere, and you could tell that he was very ready to use it....

Then these tentacles came growin' up out of the floor, all black and rubbery and foul. They were grabbin' at anything they could, but Duchess an' me were too nimble to be snared like that. And the Pretty Man, he jumped up and pulled himself on to the balcony above, so's he could show some more guards his sword-work. The Archer had gotten himself hit with a bag of goo, the same sort of stuff I use on the really big rats, and had ducked into a side room to clean himself up.

And Trouble? He just yelled a lot.

Duchess and me went up a spiral stair, and dealt with the bastards who tried to bar our way. On our way, the Pretty Man went back down past us, shoved over the rail by one of them guards, and them tentacles grabbed hold of him.

It was close work there, for a while. Duchess and me fought our ways along, and the Archer and the Pretty man joined us soon enough. Trouble stayed caught, and truth be told? I think that he liked it.

Oh, yes. You know the sort....

It was an ugly fight, I don't mind sayin'. Elspeth had some kinda magic wand, and it was roarin' and throwin' balls of lead at us. And the diabolist who'd conjured the tentacles, and the darkness? No pushover, him.

He took off soon enough after Trouble got done layin' about, and set the bastard afire, though.

Elspeth, she's a hellcat. And her skill with a rapier was remarkable to see, my friends. She dropped the Archer, bleeding at her feet, but she knew damned well she didn't have a chance against me and the Pretty Man. And especially me darlin' Duchess....

Trouble, he wanted to kill 'er right there. Broil 'er, I think he said! F----n' savage, he is. Probably would have 'et her, too.

But the Pretty Man held up a hand, and started in to talkin' to her, real soft....