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The Chronicle of Burne, and Some Others of Lesser Importance *Updated May 17th, 2009*
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<blockquote data-quote="Rolzup" data-source="post: 2884978" data-attributes="member: 10105"><p><strong>Following the Sound of Thunder </strong></p><p></p><p>Ye can't trust wizards. Oh, you might think that ye can, but trust me: ye can't.</p><p></p><p>Take the Prof, who seemed a descent enough sort. Duchess and I, we're ready to deal with the Bitch's guards. Took out one as we came through the door, into a little room. There was another door standing open, obviously where the Pretty Man was, but before we could get there?</p><p></p><p>Magic, thanks to the Prof. He conjured some kind of web, hangin' all through the room. Got the guards tangled up, sure, but how were we to get to the Pretty Man? The web was so thick that the Archer couldn't shoot through it, and he was none too pleased about that.</p><p></p><p>Sure enough, before I could start hackin' my way through, there was that crash of thunder again, closer still and even louder than before, and a yell from the Pretty Man along with it. Didn't sound at all happy, neither.</p><p></p><p>It only got worse.</p><p></p><p>Friends, you know me. You know my line of work. I spend more than my fair share of time in the sewers. That's where the rats are, after all. So me, I know stinks. I've smelled 'em all, in my time. But this? This was somethin's else entirely. So strong that it hung in the very air, thick and green. Made even <em>my</em> eyes water, standin' as I was on the very edge of it.</p><p></p><p>Hell, the damned cloud made Duchess herself ill! And that's no small feat, makin' a rat like her sick up.</p><p></p><p>Maybe the Prof thought he was helping. Maybe he was, for all I know. I imagine that the Bitch's men weren't up to much with that smell in the air. But it wasn't doin' us any much good either. The Archer was cursin' up a blue streak, when he wasn't retchin'.</p><p></p><p>Lucky for me, I had a secret weapon.</p><p></p><p>See this ring, here on my finger? Not just a particularly handsome piece of jewelry, this. No, this is an heirloom, handed down from my great-great-great grandma, Anne Finké herself. And it's magic, this ring is.</p><p></p><p>Ever hear of a ring of invisibility? Well, this is better. This, me friends, is a ring of <em>insmellability</em>. Turn it on your finger, like so, and see? Your scent disappears, like you ain't even there. Makes it a lot easier, this, sneakin' up on a canny rat.</p><p></p><p>But that's not all, y'know. The ring protects me from smells, too. Shields me, like. And it was enough to let me push my way through the Prof's little cloud without revisitin' me lunch.</p><p></p><p>Took me a bit, pushin' through the web. But I made it through, until I could see the Pretty Man though the haze. He was bleedin' from the ears, and he looked a little shaky, but he was still standin', with his monkey by his side.</p><p></p><p>There were bodies all about, some of them dead and some just pukin' their guts out. Religious types, or so they seemed to me. I gave the closest one a good kick as I went by, just on general principles like.</p><p></p><p>The Pretty Man, he was facin' down two figures, and one of 'em.... Well. One of 'em was Jack Fancy, sure as sure. Had one a' them skinny swords in his hand, and he kept tossin' knives at the Pretty Man. But that other....</p><p></p><p>Hell, I need another drink, I'm gonna remember that.</p><p></p><p>Thank ye, Gerard. Thank ye kindly. I've seen things, friends. Terrible, horrible things. But nothin' like this.</p><p></p><p>It was a woman, ye thought at first. And if he'd been wearin' pants, or anything below the waist, maybe I woulda kept bein' fooled. But no, we weren't so lucky as that. Worse still, he had the head of a dog, all snarlin' and snappin', and the skin we could see -- too damned much of it, ye ask me -- was covered with fur.</p><p></p><p>I don't mind tellin' ye, friends, I was taken aback. Shocked, even.</p><p></p><p>Just for a moment, mind, but that was time enough for the Bitch to hop down into an open trap door. And Fancy followed a second later, as one a' my knives hit the wall behind where he'd been standin'.</p><p></p><p>Took us a minute to get organized, like, what with the smell and the web and all. The Pretty Man told us what had happened, that he'd been hit with half a dozen spells at the same time. Not once, even, but twice. He wasn't at all pleased about it, and what's more? It was the first time I'd seen his hair anythin' less than perfect.</p><p></p><p>Down through the trap door we went, all but the Prof. He'd had enough, he said. Maybe it was seein' the Bitch that did it, and if so I can't blame 'im a bit. Wished 'im well, although the Archer seemed happy to see the back of 'im, and off he went.</p><p></p><p>And down <em>we</em> went.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Rolzup, post: 2884978, member: 10105"] [b]Following the Sound of Thunder [/b] Ye can't trust wizards. Oh, you might think that ye can, but trust me: ye can't. Take the Prof, who seemed a descent enough sort. Duchess and I, we're ready to deal with the Bitch's guards. Took out one as we came through the door, into a little room. There was another door standing open, obviously where the Pretty Man was, but before we could get there? Magic, thanks to the Prof. He conjured some kind of web, hangin' all through the room. Got the guards tangled up, sure, but how were we to get to the Pretty Man? The web was so thick that the Archer couldn't shoot through it, and he was none too pleased about that. Sure enough, before I could start hackin' my way through, there was that crash of thunder again, closer still and even louder than before, and a yell from the Pretty Man along with it. Didn't sound at all happy, neither. It only got worse. Friends, you know me. You know my line of work. I spend more than my fair share of time in the sewers. That's where the rats are, after all. So me, I know stinks. I've smelled 'em all, in my time. But this? This was somethin's else entirely. So strong that it hung in the very air, thick and green. Made even [i]my[/i] eyes water, standin' as I was on the very edge of it. Hell, the damned cloud made Duchess herself ill! And that's no small feat, makin' a rat like her sick up. Maybe the Prof thought he was helping. Maybe he was, for all I know. I imagine that the Bitch's men weren't up to much with that smell in the air. But it wasn't doin' us any much good either. The Archer was cursin' up a blue streak, when he wasn't retchin'. Lucky for me, I had a secret weapon. See this ring, here on my finger? Not just a particularly handsome piece of jewelry, this. No, this is an heirloom, handed down from my great-great-great grandma, Anne Finké herself. And it's magic, this ring is. Ever hear of a ring of invisibility? Well, this is better. This, me friends, is a ring of [i]insmellability[/i]. Turn it on your finger, like so, and see? Your scent disappears, like you ain't even there. Makes it a lot easier, this, sneakin' up on a canny rat. But that's not all, y'know. The ring protects me from smells, too. Shields me, like. And it was enough to let me push my way through the Prof's little cloud without revisitin' me lunch. Took me a bit, pushin' through the web. But I made it through, until I could see the Pretty Man though the haze. He was bleedin' from the ears, and he looked a little shaky, but he was still standin', with his monkey by his side. There were bodies all about, some of them dead and some just pukin' their guts out. Religious types, or so they seemed to me. I gave the closest one a good kick as I went by, just on general principles like. The Pretty Man, he was facin' down two figures, and one of 'em.... Well. One of 'em was Jack Fancy, sure as sure. Had one a' them skinny swords in his hand, and he kept tossin' knives at the Pretty Man. But that other.... Hell, I need another drink, I'm gonna remember that. Thank ye, Gerard. Thank ye kindly. I've seen things, friends. Terrible, horrible things. But nothin' like this. It was a woman, ye thought at first. And if he'd been wearin' pants, or anything below the waist, maybe I woulda kept bein' fooled. But no, we weren't so lucky as that. Worse still, he had the head of a dog, all snarlin' and snappin', and the skin we could see -- too damned much of it, ye ask me -- was covered with fur. I don't mind tellin' ye, friends, I was taken aback. Shocked, even. Just for a moment, mind, but that was time enough for the Bitch to hop down into an open trap door. And Fancy followed a second later, as one a' my knives hit the wall behind where he'd been standin'. Took us a minute to get organized, like, what with the smell and the web and all. The Pretty Man told us what had happened, that he'd been hit with half a dozen spells at the same time. Not once, even, but twice. He wasn't at all pleased about it, and what's more? It was the first time I'd seen his hair anythin' less than perfect. Down through the trap door we went, all but the Prof. He'd had enough, he said. Maybe it was seein' the Bitch that did it, and if so I can't blame 'im a bit. Wished 'im well, although the Archer seemed happy to see the back of 'im, and off he went. And down [i]we[/i] went. [/QUOTE]
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The Chronicle of Burne, and Some Others of Lesser Importance *Updated May 17th, 2009*
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