Hope this turn meets your expectations- funny, you find this funny, I'll have you know this is deadly serious, peoples lives are at stake. One more word out of you and I'll send Grand Alf round.
Here goes...
Turn 3. Part 2. The other bit.
“It’s a Rat Trap baby and you've been caught.”
Back to the other terrible twosome, rather threesome, if you include Bones.
At the end of the rat passage are double doors, flung open, smashed- Grand Alf and Saradomin step into the chamber beyond and…
“Whoooah.”
Grand Alf kicks air, steps back quickly.
“There’s a bloody great hole in the floor.”
“It’s a pit.”
“Duh- that’s what I said.”
Grand Alf dances backwards a dozen feet and crouches into a sprinters pose.
“Stand aside wizened priest, I shall apply my magics and then gazelle-like leap to the other side.”
“I’m eighteen.” Saradomin states, and doesn’t move.
“What?”
“You said ‘wizened priest’, I’m eighteen for Cuthbert’s sake.”
“Sorry- poetic license. Now my mighty magics.”
Grand Alf thinks fast, note I said fast- not hard.
He wiggles his fingers and waves his hands about a bit, all the time leaping up and down on the spot, while intoning-
“JUMP UP. JUMP UP. JUMP AROUND. JUMP. JUMP.”
He’s a blur ready to roll, rather leap.
Saradomin crunches the door to his side.
“Or we could go round?”
He points the way.
“Yes. I suppose that’d do.”
“Oh and Grand Alf- that’s not a spell is it?”
“No. No, sorry again.” Grand Alf confirms.
Grand Alf saunters over head down- ashamed, the two tip-toe around the edge of the pit- Bones following Grand Alf’s tread.
The room is enormous, maybe thirty feet by thirty feet with a high ceiling- once ornate, now nasty; they soon discover another pit trap, and on the far side another ancient fountain, complete with dragon head water spout.
Saradomin cleans away some of the gunk, there’s more squiggly writing; alas neither of them can make it out. That’s not going to hold Grand Alf back though.
“LET THERE BE FIRE- NAR-NAR-NAR-NAR, what was it Dartamor said at that other fountain?”
Saradomin shakes his head.
Squeak squeak.
He turns quickly- what was that, he scans the room, can’t see anything beyond the circle of Grand Alf’s light.
“LET THERE BE… I don’t know what do you want? Hang on. Got it. LET THERE BE BISCUITS, I like biscuits, and jelly, that’s it- I’ll try that. LET THERE BE JELLY.”
Squeak squeak.
Saradomin looks around again- still nothing there. Grand Alf climbs into the fountain, finds the spout-thing in the dragons mouth, pokes at it, puts his head in the dragons jaws- puckers his lips and blows down it.
BBrrrrrrr.
Squeak squeak.
“Hey that was good.”
Squeak squeak.
Saradomin darts round to look at Grand Alf.
“I’d oil that armour of yours if I were you.”
He stares hard at the sorcerer. The sorcerer. The sorcerer. Hang on, sorcerers don’t wear armour. What’s making that squeaking…
“Rats.”
Grand Alf states dropping into combat crouch-mode.
He lifts his staff, uses the light to scour the room, stops, back- there’s a door way.
Squeak.
And.
Squeak.
The three head over, making ready for war.
“R-A-T-S. Leave this to me.”
Grand Alf dodges into the room, Bones does likewise.
Leapx2
Dire Rats converge, one from either side. It’s a rat-bush.
“Aaargh.”
The first connects with Grand Alf’s knee leaving huge gouge marks in his flesh, the blood flows.
“Pow-kee pow-kee time.”
He stabs back, spikes the creature, but the huge rat fights on.
The second rat is having less success, it gnashes the air between Bones’ bones, the skeleton lashes at the creature raking its claws down the rats back, it’s wounded, badly.
Saradomin sees the danger.
SHOOOOVE.
He shunts Grand Alf forwards, further into the chamber. Steps into the gap and…
“BY THE MIGHT OF ST. CUTHBERT.”
Swish.
Misses the rat.
Unseen a third pair of ratty peepers peers from beneath the disgusting, stinking, rotting pile of carrion that fills the room.
The first Dire Rat snaps at Saradomin, who sees his opening, and…
“CUTHBERT DON’T FAIL ME NOW.”
BONK.
Smashes the creature’s skull.
The second rat meets a similar fate, its bite merely scratches Bones, who rakes again at the vulgar vermin- it gives up the ghost, sinks into the stink- dead.
“Whew.”
Grand Alf lets out a breath.
“That was…”
Erupting from the filth, with fury, comes Guthash, Queen of the Rats, some six feet long, ten including tail, and nearly four feet high at the shoulder- in one fell move she tramples over Bones, crushing and smashing the skeleton beneath her.
Her jaws lock on Bones’ skull and…
CRUNCH-SPOING.
It explodes sending shards of cranium shooting off.
“BONESY. NOOOOoooooooo.”
Grand Alf brings up his loaded light crossbow, safety off.
FWUNG-THUNK.
And buries six inches of steel into Guthash’s right shoulder.
The rat snarls back, turns, and launches herself at the sorcerer.
“Blooooody elllllll.”
Grand Alf dodges left, then right, and “JUUUUUUUMP” escapes the huge creature’s jaws.
Saradomin swings hard and…
“BERT- MAKE IT HURT.”
CRUNCH.
Connects. Smashing Guthash’s back right leg.
The rat turns swiftly, a new, and closer enemy- snaps its jaws, misses Saradomin by inches. He hits back.
“CUTHBERT BLESSES YOU- WITH THIS…”
His heavy mace swings high, wide and handsome.
Grand Alf continues to dodge back, finds a wall behind him, reloads his crossbow, his hands shaking furiously- and fires.
“THE STAPLE-ERRRRRRRRRRRRR.”
THwONKCRUNCH
Another hit, this time in Guthash’s backside.
Sqeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeak.
The stupid creature turns again, in the process knocking Saradomin hard left, the Cleric staggers, swings-
“BLOODY HECK CUTHBERT- KILL THE THING.”
And misses again. He regains his balance and looks on as Guthash leaps at Grand Alf.
And yet again falls short, settles for a mouthful of robe which tears as Grand Alf “JUUUUUUMP” leaps right, and away from the beast.
Saradomin charges forward, swings, and…
“BY THE POWER OF GRAYSKULL.”
He’s desperate.
WHUUUUUMP-CRUNCH
Something got busted.
The rat’s other back leg is mashed- Guthash is crippled, and yet she drags itself around again to face the two adventurers.
Rushes, as best she can, towards them.
Grand Alf casually throws out an arm, on the end of which is hand, on the end of which is a finger- pointing at the terrifying, and seemingly indestructible, beast.
“BiffBangPow.”
The Magic Missile catches Guthash between the eyes, for a moment it seems as if she’s going to continue her charge, then her brain decides otherwise, thinks- I’m dead, and she collapses.
The room settles for silence for a while, then…
“Bonesy.”
Grand Alf sprints over to his fallen skeleton servitor; tries to take a pulse.
“Bonesy… Speak to me.”
He cradles the… hang on, the space where the skull should be.
Turns to Saradomin, forlorn.
“Is there anything you can do?”
Saradomin stares hard at the sorcerer, trying desperately to understand, finally he shakes his head.
Grand Alf turns back to the empty skull-space, strokes imaginary hair with his free hand.
“He was so young… So full of life, why did he have to die?”
He drops the wreck of the skeleton and snivels.
Squeak.
He looks up, there’s a hole in the wall opposite, it must lead out into the rubble field surrounding the citadel; another Dire Rat is nosing its way into the chamber.
“Not.”
Grand Alf stands, calmly loads his light crossbow, and fires from the hip.
THUNKCHHHHHHH
The rat’s dead.
“Now.”
He finishes his speech.
The two rest a while, out of the rat room, back in the larger chamber where the air is cleaner.
Grand Alf munches on a sandwich- magic smash, he’s not hungry, just fed up.
“I always wanted my own skeleton, from when I was a kid. All the other kids had pets- cats, dogs, rats… bloody rats, one kid had a pet Giant Toad, called Elvis, it ate him in the end, and his mum. I wanted a skeleton, always. Or some other undead… a zombie’d do, anything, y’know, anything undead.”
Saradomin is nowhere in this conversation, no clue what to say next.
“I just wanted to pet him- get a leash, some chain, a bit of rope- throw sticks for him to fetch. Play catch in the park, terrify the old-folk, tickle his tummy, bath him- he’d be my friend. Y’know, a real friend.”
Grand Alf applies the puppy eyes to Saradomin, who’s left with a shrug- he’s no idea what’s going on here.
Grand Alf looks away, stares into the dark.
“And when it was late at night he could see me home, make sure I din’t get hurt. A skeleton would be great… A skeleton like Bones.”
Grand Alf applies a crooked grin, scrunches up his eyes- intense.
Saradomin finds himself nodding, stops as soon as he realises.
“Bonesy was good at biting wasn’t he?”
Saradomin’s nodding again- stop that.
Grand Alf rocks back and forth, silently snapping at the air, his teeth clacking together.
“Remember back in the passage, he bit that rat good- and clawed ‘im. Ahh. I miss him. I like…”
Grand Alf stares into wild space for a while.
“I like the way he killed stuff.”
Grand Alf gets up, passes the rest of his sandwich to Saradomin, and shakes the crumbs from his ripped robes, he strides towards the rat room, leaving Saradomin alone- and better for it, then he stops, turns back.
“And what’s all that stuff about St. Cuthbert? Why did you keep shouting it out? You ought to watch that- makes you look silly.”
Grand Alf bites the air suddenly. Then grins.
Heads off to see what’s in the rat room.
Saradomin watches him go then sinks to his knees and prays.
“Cuthbert… I know I’ve been bad in the past- the time I looked up Sister Mary Agnes’ wimpole, the money I took from the collection for the poor and spent on communion wine and fags, when I called Simon Fatfarter a ‘dirty trump head’, although I was only four at the time. But I’ll be good now- you’ll see, just please… please save me from… him.”
Saradomin points at the doorway to the rat room, Grand Alf swings out, chuckles and beckons Saradomin over with-
“I smell dead people.” Chuckles some more and disappears back inside.
Saradomin looks to the heavens.
“Please Cuthbert… Please.”
He screws his eyes tight shut.
“There’s no place like home. There’s no place like home. There’s no place like home.”
Five minutes of searching later the pair make a grizzly discovery.
“It’s the ranger- what was his name?” Grand Alf enquires.
“Krackers, something like that.” Saradomin confirms.
Grand Alf searches the stinking wreck of a corpse, discovers all sorts of goodies, and a ring.
“Take that.”
“I’m taking everything.” The sorcerer confirms.
They find lots of stuff in the pile of corpses in the room, mostly money- silver and gold, also a few gems.
“Shall we tell the others? Share it out?” Saradomin enquires.
“Tell them about the ranger, and Bonesy. But I’m keeping my share of the money, I’ve earnt it… Are we done?”
Saradomin nods.
“Well let’s get back- this place gives me the creeps.”
Blood and guts stain Grand Alf’s hands, arms and apparel. He strides off- not looking back. Saradomin lingers a moment and then follows him out.
Next time- still Turn 3. “Gnome on the range.”
