So D'shai, it looks like the volume of our fanmail has dwindled as of late.
Not surprising considering our blisting post rate. Well, go on and read them anyway.
Okay, but they are pretty brutal.
I'm ready.
Is that why you have a crash helmet on?
No, but now that you mention it that is a good idea.
Riiiight. Anyway...
Dear Enk and D'Shai,
If Rel had a trebuchet and initiative what are the odds of him beating HULK?
Signed, Curious George
Hmmm. If Rel were smart and used the trebuchet as cover while apologizing for what ever made HULK mad I would say that a 1 in 20 chance just so it fits into the current system.
I would ask about aid another on that, but I don't think anybody would actually be willing to help. Anyway next question.
Number two:
Dear Hero Guys,
What is up with Sony? I mean first no network capability for the PS3 and now the DRM issue. Can't these guys get it together?
Signed, Furious George
Wow. Oooh, when you said brutal it was an understatment. Okay I think I got this one Rosenhaus style...
"Next Question."
Dear writers of great renown,
My gaming group has a serious problem about nobody wanting to play a cleric. How do we deal with this in game terms without unbalancing the system?
Signed, Fett
Good question Fett and I would have to say just eek it out until Enk is ready to come back to the game table, but only offer to let him play if he plays that healer class from the mini's book. He hates combat anyway.
I play one,
one, noncombatant and I get stuck with that label forever.
I think its more about dice hating you.
Hey, I hit once in awhile.
Sure you do. Against armorless kobolds, and oozes, and barns. Next Question.
Dear most awesome authors of fantasy fiction,
What is your most secretest secret?
Signed Top Secret
My secret is buried on a remote island with only one map and a series of vague clues leading to it. I occasionly send it postcards though. Yours Enk?
My secret is that I have learned to treat you as a figment of my imagination.
I like figs.
That's it. I'm out.
Tip O' the Day:
Making zombie jokes at a funeral, while funny, may get you crossed off Christmas lists.
*****
The flash blinded the aging cleric even through his tightly closed lids, and pain arced through his body as the shocking snare sprang. With more instinct than thought, Theo ducked behind his shield, throwing it forward by the boss in hopes of escaping the blast alive. The jolt nearly knocked him from his feet as it coursed through his body. When it finally ended, the aging cleric sank to his knees, his heart racing and his chest refusing to expand.
The priest forced himself to breathe, and slowly opened his eyes to a brilliant display of sparkles and spots. For a moment, he thought he had passed into Zuras’ halls; the pain in his chest brought him back to the carnal realm. “If you’ve not called me home, Lord,” he whispered, “maybe you could take the pain from an old man’s bones?” Immediately, Theo felt insubstantial arms wrap around him, and his pain faded in the holy embrace.
He stood, reinvigorated, and took stock: his shield lay on the ground, the wood around the steel boss smoking, and several links on the short sleeve of his chain shirt had welded themselves together. “Theo, you alive?” asked Ander.
“I think so,” he answered, glancing over at the ranger. The young man rolled out from underneath a shattered table and began shaking off the dust and splinters. “Is anyone hurt?”
“No,” said Ashrem, dropping lightly from a beam on the ceiling right in front of the priest. “Pack?”
“I was out of range, but… but Worm…” The halfling rushed toward the hole in the floor. “Worm! Worm, are you down there? He’s not answering!”
Theo stepped beside the bard and looked down into the darkness. “I can’t hear or see him down there,” he said. “Pack, fetch me a stone.”
Pack pressed a rough rock into the priest’s palm. “He’s fine. He’s fine, right?”
The cleric didn’t answer, instead clutching the stone tightly as he murmured a prayer meant to light the way, and dropped the glowing stone into the hole. He watched it plummet, finally disappearing with a splash into murky water. “It’s a long drop,” he said, “two maybe three stories, but there are rungs set in the wall.”
“I’ve got to go get him!” said Pack as he bolted down the shaft.
“No, lad!” cried Theo for a second time, but the halfling had already clambered out of arms reach. “Tree on a hilltop, boy, you don’t know what’s down there! Come back up until…”
An angry, indistinct shout echoed up from below. “It’s Worm!” cried Pack in answer as he hustled his way out of view. “I’m coming Worm!”
Theo, hampered by the welds in his now ill-fitting chainmail, was last in the dash toward the shaft rungs and his friends soon outdistanced him on the ladder. He heard one, two, and then three splashes below him. A moment later, he heard the roar of half-orc laughter followed by a flurry of voices.
“Worm! I thought I’d lost you!” Pack’s happy voice was accompanied by a wet thud.
“Indeed,” said Ashrem from below. “It appeared that, in addition to destroying the building, triggering the trap, and nearly killing Brother Theobald in the process, you had fallen to your death.” The scout’s voice seemed even more controlled than usual. Theo, unsure what to make of it, shook his head and dropped the last few feet into the muck below.
The cleric glanced around at his dimly lit companions. Ashrem held the lit stone aloft, and Ander stood beside him, leaning on his staff. Worm stood down the wet passageway, halfway around a corner. He had a halfling wrapped tightly around one leg.
“Worm, you can’t just…” Ander began.
“Can’t what?” said Worm. “Catch a running jackrabbit?” The half-orc laughed as he came fully into Theo’s view and slapped a limp body against the wall. “Now that,” he said, “is how it’s done! I’ve had more trouble tossing drunks at the Sword. One flying brick and, wham! He goes down faster than harlots at harvest.” Ashrem took a few steps toward the slumping figure. “He’s alive – my aim was off. So what took you so long?”
“Later.” Ander snarled. “Alright, I guess its time to wake him up. We need to find out what he knows.”
“Let’s see what you’ve got, rabbit,” said Worm, grabbing the prisoner and dunking him head first into the sludge below. After the third dunk, the dangling man sputtered and groaned. The half-orc let him hang there a few moments, and then tossed the man toward the woodsman. The ranger didn’t bother catching the man, instead propelling him face first against the nearby wall.
“I think,” Theo heard the woodsman hiss, “it’s time for you to answer some questions.” The cleric furrowed his brow,
He’ll not be that easy, lad.
The prisoner let out a chuckle and spit at the Ionian’s legs. “You’ll gets nothin’ and like it,” he said, staring brazenly at the young man. Ander cuffed him in retaliation and pinned him against the wall by his shoulders, but the captive just laughed in the woodsman’s face.
No lad, you need to outwit his sort. What you need is some sort of trickery.
Ashrem cut short the laughter by touching the point of his sword below the prisoner’s outstretched arm. For a moment, Theo saw a glimmer of fear in the captive’s eyes, but it disappeared as Ander continued his interrogation.
“Do you feel that, Rabbit? Is the blade cold on your skin?” The prisoner stood still as a stone. “That’s Razor. The Mistslayer’s blade. Have you heard of it? They say it can cut through armor like flesh.” Theo watched as the captive’s eyes darted nervously from one face to another. “Do I have your attention now? Good.”
Ander paused for a very quiet moment. “Let’s make this simple. I’m going to ask you ten questions, and you’re going to give me ten answers. If I think you’re lying to me, or if you refuse to answer, he,” he said with a nod toward the scout, “is going to start counting for you. Understand, rabbit?” Ashrem punctuated the woodsman’s point by sliding his blade down the prisoner’s arm and grasping the captive’s wrist.
Good, lads. Simple yet believable. This bluff might yet get us what we need.
“I druther be tippin’ a cup with a single finger than tattle to the likes o’ you.”
Theo heard Worm unsuccessfully stifle a laugh and glanced over at the hulking half-orc, who was hiding his mouth beneath a huge hand. The warrior leaned easily against the wall; the cleric couldn’t help but think he was, for some perverse reason, enjoying himself.
Theo turned back toward the interrogation just in time to see Ander stare daggers at Worm. The Ionian held his gaze for a moment, and turned his attention back toward the pinned man. “I don’t think you understand just how serious we are,” he began dangerously.
“Yer lookin’ for the girl, aren’t you?” A malicious grin spread slowly across the captive’s face. “You won’t find ‘er,” he chuckled.
“Tell me what you know!” the woodsman roared as he brought himself nose to nose with the knave.
Watch yourself lad. Keep things calm, or we’ll get nothing from him.
“I know yer in deep water,” said the prisoner, still using his mocking tone, “but I don’t think you need me t’point that out.”
“One word is all it takes, and you’ll have one less finger to point,” the ranger said through clenched teeth. Theo shifted uncomfortably, suddenly unsure if it was a threat or a statement of fact.
“Fat lot that’ll help,” said the knave smugly. “Anythin’ you can do t’me is a shadow of what they’d do.”
“Don’t be so sure!”
“You want answers? Here’s an answer even they’d be willin’ t’give. Yer late to the party, boy: the Wolves are on their way to the ogre-man’s right now, lookin’ fer a wizard-killer. He’ll be danglin’ from a tree by the time you get to ‘im, all fer helpin’ a darker like you!”
Ander’s hand snaked out and grabbed the prisoner’s throat. “If he dies…”
“But that’s not the best part of it,” gasped the captive. “Yer girly, the one you came lookin’ for. She’s gone!” Theo saw Ander’s hand tense, and the prisoner wheezed painfully. “Taken by things even they’re afraid of.”
“You’re lying, and this is your last chance.”
“Face it, boy,” the captive spat in a whisper, “if she’s lucky, she’s already dead.”
Ander’s face looked as if it would burst into flame.
No, lad, don’t!
“Ashrem,” growled the woodsman.
The blade made no sound, but the scream born of agony and surprise echoed in the priest’s ears.
