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The Chronicle of Burne, and Some Others of Lesser Importance *Updated May 17th, 2009*
- Thread starter Rolzup
- Start date
HalfOrc HalfBiscuit
Adventurer
Mallus said:
To answer this rather belatedly ... in all honesty, it's not really the plot that keeps me hooked on this storyhour - it's the characters, the narrative voice and the sheer craziness that is CITY. Any actual coherent story is alomost unnecessary, it's just the icing on the cake (of doom)!
shilsen
Adventurer
I have to admit that even as a player that's mostly true for me. I am as interested in the current overarching plot as anyone else at the table, but at the end of the day, what keeps me coming back to the game is the sheer insanity and horrible humor that is part of the game and the setting.HalfOrc HalfBiscuit said:To answer this rather belatedly ... in all honesty, it's not really the plot that keeps me hooked on this storyhour - it's the characters, the narrative voice and the sheer craziness that is CITY. Any actual coherent story is alomost unnecessary, it's just the icing on the cake (of doom)!
Rolzup
First Post
Rolzup
First Post
A Most Remarkable Show
Naturally, it turned out to have been the bastard Nadir, who seemed to be determined to annoy us as much as humanly -- or Shiracly, I suppose -- possible. Not the wisest course of action to follow, as any number of corpses would happily tell him. He'd assaulted the Reverend, stolen his eponymous magic wand, and used a summoned sandstorm of questionable reality to cover his escape. Losing the wand had proven a terrible shock to the Reverend's system; thus accounting for his semi-comatose state upon our arrival.
Now that he had the wand, and the demon trapped within it, Nadir was fully a third of the way clear to opening a path to this Bad Hunger. This was likely to have dire consequences, and annoyingly enough it seemed as though we were the ones who would have to deal with it. Certainly, this task could have fallen to no more qualified individual than myself, but my lackeys were rather less than awe-inspiring. Hardly the first time I would have to accept the burden of their many shortcomings, and likely not to be the last.
BURNE SUFFERS FROM DELUSIONS OF GRANDEUR. NO, MAKE THAT DELUSIONS OF ADEQUACY.
All was not yet lost, however. In the course of our interrogation, the Reverend let it slip that his bother was in town...and that this brother was in possession of the rod that contained the second demonic entity. Obviously, this brother -- one "Mercutio the Mesmerist" -- would be Nadir's next target. I dispatched the others to Mercutio's place of employment, the Palladion nightclub, located in a rather questionable section of Narayan known as "the Bilge", while I hurried back to my lab to make a few last adjustments to my most recent creation. It was likely that I would need it that very evening....
Now let me speak, just for a moment, about is Burne's Thermoreactive Cerebric Barrier. This was rather an unusual creation, as I usually specialize in offensive magicks....
AND OFFENSIVE MANNERS. AND OFFENSIVE ODORS.
...but the Nadir situation had caused me no small amount of concern. And so, the Barrier!
It looks to the layman's eye like nothing more than a broad-rimmed helmet, albiet with the addition of a small chimney at its crest. Said chimney produces whisps of smoke under normal circumstances, as well as a cheery red glow. A fashionable piece of headgear, one might think, and nothing more!
OH, YES. BURNE IS VERY MUCH THE EPITOME OF STYLE.
Ah, but the Thermoreactive Cerebric Barrier is so much more than this! It is when the wearer, which is to say myself, is made the target of hostile mind-magicks that the Barrier comes into its own. Attuned as it is to the natural throught-patterns of the wearer, the Barrier reacts to any alteration in these patterns by...well, by heating up. Ferociously. The resulting pain has a way of focusing the wearer's mind, allowing him a chance to reassert his own will!
OR KILL HIM, BY BOILING HIS SO-CALLED BRAIN. EITHER WAY, HE'LL BE FREE OF MIND CONTROL, AT LEAST.
With this accomplished, the built-up heat is released from the exhaust aperture atop the helmet as a plume of attractive blue flame. And the wearer is free to take his vengeance upon the fool who dared try to enthrall him! And now that I had completed this brilliant creation, Nadir was doomed. I very nearly felt sorry for him.
I found the others, remarkably enough, at the Palladion. For once, they had obeyed orders. I had attracted some attention from the local thugs as I moved through the Blige, but one glance at the Heremetic Destrucive Engine was enough to convince them to find easier prey.
PLUS, BURNE DOESN'T REALLY LOOK WORTH ROBBING. I THINK SOME OF THE MUGGERS MIGHT HAVE ACTUALLY GIVEN HIM SOME MONEY, IF HE HADN'T BEEN TALKING TO HIMSELF SO MUCH.
My lackeys, it seems, had just returned from dining at a place called the Chrysanthemum Inn. Foreign food, no less! The sort that you're meant to poke at with sticks, rather than a healthy sort of steak. They'd encountered some of their countrymen there, on some mysterious sort of errand, and -- to my utter lack of surprise -- there'd been some sort of altercation. Not a violent one, for a change, but it was becoming increasingly clear to me why Kenji is not in his homeland.
In any case, we adjourned to the nightclub itself, and soon found ourselves engaged in conversation with the staff A few judicously applied bribes later, Meiji and myself found balcony seats, while Rackhir found himself a place of concealment, and Kenji tried to take up a position backstage. I say "tried" because Kenji, displaying his typical lack of sophistication, immediately tried to seat himself upon one of the entertainers, a Garahjah samed Drang. That Drang was disguised as a box, using illusion magicks, might be seen by some as excuse for Kenji's rudeness. Not by me, however. There is rarely, if ever, any excuse for Kenji.
Nor for Meiji, who -- for reasons of his own -- chose to use his own so-called "arts" to make himself look like Mercutio. He claimed that this was to confuse and distract Nadir, but the simple truth of the matter is that the man cannot stand for anyone else to be the center of attention. It's sad, really.
As the show started, I removed the Barrier without any hesitation. I, you see, am not an oafish foreigner.
NO, HE'S A HOME-GROWN JACKASS. AND THE PALLADION HAD A STRICT NO-SMOKING
POLICY OUTSIDE THE BAR"
And I must admit that Mercutio's performance took me entirely by surprise. The man is an artist, without any doubt at all! I laughed, I cried, I lived. I cannot actually recall what his act actually entailed, but that it was utterly brilliant is something that I cannot even begin to doubt.
HE USED THE ROD TO HYPNOTISE THE CROWD. INCLUDING BURNE. MERCUTIO DIDN'T MAKE HIM CLUCK LIKE A CHICKEN, THOUGH. UNFORTUNATELY.
I was delighted to meet the man after the show, and shook his hand with great enthusiasm. Kenji had already spoken to Mercutio and explained the situation, and he seemed to understand the gravity of it all. He had a business deal to transact first, however. We offered to accompany him, and act as bodyguards, an offer he readily accepted. Said deal was taking place in the Palladion's basement, which was not in any way suspicious, so down we went.
If only we'd known who Mercutio's business partners were, we might have saved ourselves a great deal of trouble. But alas, we were to be taken very much by surprise by what was to follow....
Naturally, it turned out to have been the bastard Nadir, who seemed to be determined to annoy us as much as humanly -- or Shiracly, I suppose -- possible. Not the wisest course of action to follow, as any number of corpses would happily tell him. He'd assaulted the Reverend, stolen his eponymous magic wand, and used a summoned sandstorm of questionable reality to cover his escape. Losing the wand had proven a terrible shock to the Reverend's system; thus accounting for his semi-comatose state upon our arrival.
Now that he had the wand, and the demon trapped within it, Nadir was fully a third of the way clear to opening a path to this Bad Hunger. This was likely to have dire consequences, and annoyingly enough it seemed as though we were the ones who would have to deal with it. Certainly, this task could have fallen to no more qualified individual than myself, but my lackeys were rather less than awe-inspiring. Hardly the first time I would have to accept the burden of their many shortcomings, and likely not to be the last.
BURNE SUFFERS FROM DELUSIONS OF GRANDEUR. NO, MAKE THAT DELUSIONS OF ADEQUACY.
All was not yet lost, however. In the course of our interrogation, the Reverend let it slip that his bother was in town...and that this brother was in possession of the rod that contained the second demonic entity. Obviously, this brother -- one "Mercutio the Mesmerist" -- would be Nadir's next target. I dispatched the others to Mercutio's place of employment, the Palladion nightclub, located in a rather questionable section of Narayan known as "the Bilge", while I hurried back to my lab to make a few last adjustments to my most recent creation. It was likely that I would need it that very evening....
Now let me speak, just for a moment, about is Burne's Thermoreactive Cerebric Barrier. This was rather an unusual creation, as I usually specialize in offensive magicks....
AND OFFENSIVE MANNERS. AND OFFENSIVE ODORS.
...but the Nadir situation had caused me no small amount of concern. And so, the Barrier!
It looks to the layman's eye like nothing more than a broad-rimmed helmet, albiet with the addition of a small chimney at its crest. Said chimney produces whisps of smoke under normal circumstances, as well as a cheery red glow. A fashionable piece of headgear, one might think, and nothing more!
OH, YES. BURNE IS VERY MUCH THE EPITOME OF STYLE.
Ah, but the Thermoreactive Cerebric Barrier is so much more than this! It is when the wearer, which is to say myself, is made the target of hostile mind-magicks that the Barrier comes into its own. Attuned as it is to the natural throught-patterns of the wearer, the Barrier reacts to any alteration in these patterns by...well, by heating up. Ferociously. The resulting pain has a way of focusing the wearer's mind, allowing him a chance to reassert his own will!
OR KILL HIM, BY BOILING HIS SO-CALLED BRAIN. EITHER WAY, HE'LL BE FREE OF MIND CONTROL, AT LEAST.
With this accomplished, the built-up heat is released from the exhaust aperture atop the helmet as a plume of attractive blue flame. And the wearer is free to take his vengeance upon the fool who dared try to enthrall him! And now that I had completed this brilliant creation, Nadir was doomed. I very nearly felt sorry for him.
I found the others, remarkably enough, at the Palladion. For once, they had obeyed orders. I had attracted some attention from the local thugs as I moved through the Blige, but one glance at the Heremetic Destrucive Engine was enough to convince them to find easier prey.
PLUS, BURNE DOESN'T REALLY LOOK WORTH ROBBING. I THINK SOME OF THE MUGGERS MIGHT HAVE ACTUALLY GIVEN HIM SOME MONEY, IF HE HADN'T BEEN TALKING TO HIMSELF SO MUCH.
My lackeys, it seems, had just returned from dining at a place called the Chrysanthemum Inn. Foreign food, no less! The sort that you're meant to poke at with sticks, rather than a healthy sort of steak. They'd encountered some of their countrymen there, on some mysterious sort of errand, and -- to my utter lack of surprise -- there'd been some sort of altercation. Not a violent one, for a change, but it was becoming increasingly clear to me why Kenji is not in his homeland.
In any case, we adjourned to the nightclub itself, and soon found ourselves engaged in conversation with the staff A few judicously applied bribes later, Meiji and myself found balcony seats, while Rackhir found himself a place of concealment, and Kenji tried to take up a position backstage. I say "tried" because Kenji, displaying his typical lack of sophistication, immediately tried to seat himself upon one of the entertainers, a Garahjah samed Drang. That Drang was disguised as a box, using illusion magicks, might be seen by some as excuse for Kenji's rudeness. Not by me, however. There is rarely, if ever, any excuse for Kenji.
Nor for Meiji, who -- for reasons of his own -- chose to use his own so-called "arts" to make himself look like Mercutio. He claimed that this was to confuse and distract Nadir, but the simple truth of the matter is that the man cannot stand for anyone else to be the center of attention. It's sad, really.
As the show started, I removed the Barrier without any hesitation. I, you see, am not an oafish foreigner.
NO, HE'S A HOME-GROWN JACKASS. AND THE PALLADION HAD A STRICT NO-SMOKING
POLICY OUTSIDE THE BAR"
And I must admit that Mercutio's performance took me entirely by surprise. The man is an artist, without any doubt at all! I laughed, I cried, I lived. I cannot actually recall what his act actually entailed, but that it was utterly brilliant is something that I cannot even begin to doubt.
HE USED THE ROD TO HYPNOTISE THE CROWD. INCLUDING BURNE. MERCUTIO DIDN'T MAKE HIM CLUCK LIKE A CHICKEN, THOUGH. UNFORTUNATELY.
I was delighted to meet the man after the show, and shook his hand with great enthusiasm. Kenji had already spoken to Mercutio and explained the situation, and he seemed to understand the gravity of it all. He had a business deal to transact first, however. We offered to accompany him, and act as bodyguards, an offer he readily accepted. Said deal was taking place in the Palladion's basement, which was not in any way suspicious, so down we went.
If only we'd known who Mercutio's business partners were, we might have saved ourselves a great deal of trouble. But alas, we were to be taken very much by surprise by what was to follow....
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