the Jester
Legend
Tallarn said:
Hm, couldn't find it- do you know what it is called? Or who started it?
-
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- Thread starter the Jester
- Start date
Hm, couldn't find it- do you know what it is called? Or who started it?
Mathew_Freeman
First Post
Ah, I see you found it anyway.
the Jester
Legend
Big Like His Ego
As our heroes advance relentlessly through the Citadel of Eternity, they find a few traps- one is apparently a spellbook, but when investigated it turns out to merely be a sepia snake sigil cast on a red herring. A greater dispelling fixes the problem. Another is an illusionary wall cast horizontally to cover up a symbol of death, which the party avoids handily.
Soon the party enters a large hall and skid to a stop.
Ahead, animating, are two huge metal Marii. They stand about 25’ tall, gigantic iron statues that definitely don’t look friendly- and then the view of them that the party has goes away as Malford’s solid fog fills the chamber. “Careful!” the gnome-king cries.
Angelfire moves forward, heedless of caution. He’s dealt with worse than these before- probably. He hopes. But he finds himself stymied by the slowing fog, and so he angles himself upward to fly out above it. Sybele, meanwhile, flies directly up and out of the fog, where she can see the tops of the golems looming above the churning grey vapors. Telemundo tries a disintegrate spell, but the golems are clearly immune- his ray zaps one to no avail. Thrush grunts and forces his way forward, hoping to meet the metal enemy and cut them to pieces.
The golems, slow to move, swing ponderous fists down, and the first one smashes into Thrush’s breastplate with a loud clang. The fighter gives a grunt as he feels the metal compact into his chest and a huge bruise, the size of his entire torso, starts to rise on him. Staggering, he strikes back, dueling with the metal monster, and another blow slams into his head, leaving him reeling. “I can’t take much more of that!” he cries, spitting blood from his torn lip and feeling his nose slide around brokenly.
Then, behind the golems, behind the solid fog, a door opens and the self-styled Marius the Great tosses first a quickened fireball and then a stunning cone at the party! The fire roars around them, causing a little harm to the group, but the main purpose for it suddenly becomes obvious to those above the mist- it’s repairing the little damage that they’ve done to the golems!
“There’s a Marius!” Drelvin cries in warning. Whing! Whing! whing! his arrows reverberate as they drive into the golems.
Haste spells start to go off everywhere. First Malford, then Drelvin and Telemundo; doubtless both Marii are already sped up. Arrowhawks appear, weird creatures of elemental air, firing beams of lightning at the golems. “These golems are huge, like your ego, Marius!” Horbin taunts. The sizzle of their electric ray blasts through the air, and Thrush gives out a great battle cry, hacking and hewing at the enormous iron golem he’s fighting, opening great rents in its legs. It seems to stagger, and Sybele concentrates her firepower at it- spang! spang! spang!- and the first one drops, crashing down in a twisted pile of metal. “Healing!” Thrush calls, staggering to the edge of the fog.
Then the entire band shrieks in horrible agony as Marius the Great casts an empowered horrid wilting on them. Every bit of moisture in their mouths suddenly is sucked away, and their skin goes dry like a raspy piece of sandpaper. A chorus of groans rises- few of the party are in good shape after that one! Thrush falls to his knees, barely conscious. “Healing...!” he gasps. Malford flies in, wincing at the pain as he attacks Marius, but his blows go wild and he fails to connect at all.
Horbin casts a mass heal, and suddenly everyone’s feeling much better. Everyone except the simulacrum of Marius.
More arrows keep sinking into the giant iron golem, and though it’s featureless, it’s plain to see that the damage inflicted is severe. It’s starting to stagger, and finally Thrush rushes in again, roaring at the top of his voice, his greatsword a blur in his hands. The next moment- the golem falls, a cloud of billowing green vapors spewing forth even as it does. With a thunderous boom, the body of the thing smashes down!
Marius- the real Marius, the one our heroes are aiding- seems to be teleporting around rather quickly, and unleashes a chain lightning and a burst of quickened magic missiles at the imposter, who snorts as his shield absorbs the missiles. The lightning seems to harm it a little, however; it responds with another stunning cone. The spells are slinging back and forth- bonebreak, a quickened wall of force followed by a prismatic spray, a quickened disintegrate, fireballs from Telemundo, both of which catch Malford squarely in their radius- and seem to be sucked into his gauntlets.
A strategem they’d discussed earlier, actually.
Malford feels the fireballs burning in the gauntlets. He channels all their power into his sinews, speaks a power word stun to disable the ersatz Marius for just a second, and charges in and attacks, using all his expert ability to place a blow combined with the burning power of his gauntlets of absorbtion, and cleaves the simulacrum’s head from its shoulders.
Next Time: Into the Far Realms!!
As our heroes advance relentlessly through the Citadel of Eternity, they find a few traps- one is apparently a spellbook, but when investigated it turns out to merely be a sepia snake sigil cast on a red herring. A greater dispelling fixes the problem. Another is an illusionary wall cast horizontally to cover up a symbol of death, which the party avoids handily.
Soon the party enters a large hall and skid to a stop.
Ahead, animating, are two huge metal Marii. They stand about 25’ tall, gigantic iron statues that definitely don’t look friendly- and then the view of them that the party has goes away as Malford’s solid fog fills the chamber. “Careful!” the gnome-king cries.
Angelfire moves forward, heedless of caution. He’s dealt with worse than these before- probably. He hopes. But he finds himself stymied by the slowing fog, and so he angles himself upward to fly out above it. Sybele, meanwhile, flies directly up and out of the fog, where she can see the tops of the golems looming above the churning grey vapors. Telemundo tries a disintegrate spell, but the golems are clearly immune- his ray zaps one to no avail. Thrush grunts and forces his way forward, hoping to meet the metal enemy and cut them to pieces.
The golems, slow to move, swing ponderous fists down, and the first one smashes into Thrush’s breastplate with a loud clang. The fighter gives a grunt as he feels the metal compact into his chest and a huge bruise, the size of his entire torso, starts to rise on him. Staggering, he strikes back, dueling with the metal monster, and another blow slams into his head, leaving him reeling. “I can’t take much more of that!” he cries, spitting blood from his torn lip and feeling his nose slide around brokenly.
Then, behind the golems, behind the solid fog, a door opens and the self-styled Marius the Great tosses first a quickened fireball and then a stunning cone at the party! The fire roars around them, causing a little harm to the group, but the main purpose for it suddenly becomes obvious to those above the mist- it’s repairing the little damage that they’ve done to the golems!
“There’s a Marius!” Drelvin cries in warning. Whing! Whing! whing! his arrows reverberate as they drive into the golems.
Haste spells start to go off everywhere. First Malford, then Drelvin and Telemundo; doubtless both Marii are already sped up. Arrowhawks appear, weird creatures of elemental air, firing beams of lightning at the golems. “These golems are huge, like your ego, Marius!” Horbin taunts. The sizzle of their electric ray blasts through the air, and Thrush gives out a great battle cry, hacking and hewing at the enormous iron golem he’s fighting, opening great rents in its legs. It seems to stagger, and Sybele concentrates her firepower at it- spang! spang! spang!- and the first one drops, crashing down in a twisted pile of metal. “Healing!” Thrush calls, staggering to the edge of the fog.
Then the entire band shrieks in horrible agony as Marius the Great casts an empowered horrid wilting on them. Every bit of moisture in their mouths suddenly is sucked away, and their skin goes dry like a raspy piece of sandpaper. A chorus of groans rises- few of the party are in good shape after that one! Thrush falls to his knees, barely conscious. “Healing...!” he gasps. Malford flies in, wincing at the pain as he attacks Marius, but his blows go wild and he fails to connect at all.
Horbin casts a mass heal, and suddenly everyone’s feeling much better. Everyone except the simulacrum of Marius.
More arrows keep sinking into the giant iron golem, and though it’s featureless, it’s plain to see that the damage inflicted is severe. It’s starting to stagger, and finally Thrush rushes in again, roaring at the top of his voice, his greatsword a blur in his hands. The next moment- the golem falls, a cloud of billowing green vapors spewing forth even as it does. With a thunderous boom, the body of the thing smashes down!
Marius- the real Marius, the one our heroes are aiding- seems to be teleporting around rather quickly, and unleashes a chain lightning and a burst of quickened magic missiles at the imposter, who snorts as his shield absorbs the missiles. The lightning seems to harm it a little, however; it responds with another stunning cone. The spells are slinging back and forth- bonebreak, a quickened wall of force followed by a prismatic spray, a quickened disintegrate, fireballs from Telemundo, both of which catch Malford squarely in their radius- and seem to be sucked into his gauntlets.
A strategem they’d discussed earlier, actually.
Malford feels the fireballs burning in the gauntlets. He channels all their power into his sinews, speaks a power word stun to disable the ersatz Marius for just a second, and charges in and attacks, using all his expert ability to place a blow combined with the burning power of his gauntlets of absorbtion, and cleaves the simulacrum’s head from its shoulders.
Next Time: Into the Far Realms!!
Mathew_Freeman
First Post
Niiiiice guantlets! And a very good trick, that one.
the Jester
Legend
Into the Far Realms!
"I advise against it, but I'll allow it," Marius tells the party. He's speaking about using the portal to the Far Realms that's in the Citadel of Eternity.
"Madness," he tells them, when asked what lies within the Far Realms. "Nothing good. Powers beyond even your wildest speculations... if you have any alternative, I would recommend taking it."
But there is none, if the party is to find the Deleter.
First the party spends some time learning spells and making items, and Telemundo reads the Book of Olaf. Though their exertions seem to them to last 45 days, Marius' manipulations of time allow them to pass them as a few short days pass on Cydra. For once, time is on their side.
Then they make ready. Jezebel is to stay with Marius; Sybele will have no part of taking her to the Far Realms.
Malford shakes his head when approached. "I can't go to the Far Realms! I have responsibilities- children, a kingdom..." He trumps back to Var as the others prepare themselves as best they can.
And then they go through the portal, Marius' warnings having failed to deter them, and into a realm of insanity tempered with seething indescribable emotions that threaten to overwhelm our heroes. All around, stretching off into infinity in all directions, are multiple, perhaps infinite, dimensions that are layered atop each other, nearly touching, like the many skins of an onion. Strange growths and liquid globules slide through the air, huge entities float barely-seen in a nearby layer, weird waves of emotion crash and break over the party.
"Aaaahhh!!!" Sybele howls, and starts babbling incomprehensibly. She seems a little puzzled by everything, then starts lashing out, firing an arrow into the party. There are a few moments of confusion as she's subdued and bound securely, and then Angelfire speaks.
"The Book," he says, an eerie looking green halo breathing from his lips with his words, "it's pulling me." And indeed, it's gently tugging at him, taking him through the murk of dimensions that the madness radiates and towards a horrible destination- the Deleter.
Slowly the party follows, flying along. The scenes that dance before their eyes are not meant to be viewed by mortal eyes- the tormented colors that make up grief, twisted angles askance to reality, watching eyes from a far universe, a burning pain that floats on the air. Madness grips them, one by one; after Sybele, Lester falls victim to the planes' horrible disorienting effects and starts hurling spells randomly. For his own good the party first mazes and then binds Lester. When Thrush goes mad and lays about him with his deadly sword blows, Horbin the Holy, gripping his faith for his life, casts a mass heal and manages to restore everyone- for the moment.
"How much longer is this going to take?" Thrush groans. They've been moving for three hours since crossing into this bizarre series of realms.
It's only then that they realize that nobody knows how long it'll take to get to the Deleter, and with a horrid start, Horbin takes stock of his mind-repairing spells....
Next Time: Deeper into the Far Realms!
"I advise against it, but I'll allow it," Marius tells the party. He's speaking about using the portal to the Far Realms that's in the Citadel of Eternity.
"Madness," he tells them, when asked what lies within the Far Realms. "Nothing good. Powers beyond even your wildest speculations... if you have any alternative, I would recommend taking it."
But there is none, if the party is to find the Deleter.
First the party spends some time learning spells and making items, and Telemundo reads the Book of Olaf. Though their exertions seem to them to last 45 days, Marius' manipulations of time allow them to pass them as a few short days pass on Cydra. For once, time is on their side.
Then they make ready. Jezebel is to stay with Marius; Sybele will have no part of taking her to the Far Realms.
Malford shakes his head when approached. "I can't go to the Far Realms! I have responsibilities- children, a kingdom..." He trumps back to Var as the others prepare themselves as best they can.
And then they go through the portal, Marius' warnings having failed to deter them, and into a realm of insanity tempered with seething indescribable emotions that threaten to overwhelm our heroes. All around, stretching off into infinity in all directions, are multiple, perhaps infinite, dimensions that are layered atop each other, nearly touching, like the many skins of an onion. Strange growths and liquid globules slide through the air, huge entities float barely-seen in a nearby layer, weird waves of emotion crash and break over the party.
"Aaaahhh!!!" Sybele howls, and starts babbling incomprehensibly. She seems a little puzzled by everything, then starts lashing out, firing an arrow into the party. There are a few moments of confusion as she's subdued and bound securely, and then Angelfire speaks.
"The Book," he says, an eerie looking green halo breathing from his lips with his words, "it's pulling me." And indeed, it's gently tugging at him, taking him through the murk of dimensions that the madness radiates and towards a horrible destination- the Deleter.
Slowly the party follows, flying along. The scenes that dance before their eyes are not meant to be viewed by mortal eyes- the tormented colors that make up grief, twisted angles askance to reality, watching eyes from a far universe, a burning pain that floats on the air. Madness grips them, one by one; after Sybele, Lester falls victim to the planes' horrible disorienting effects and starts hurling spells randomly. For his own good the party first mazes and then binds Lester. When Thrush goes mad and lays about him with his deadly sword blows, Horbin the Holy, gripping his faith for his life, casts a mass heal and manages to restore everyone- for the moment.
"How much longer is this going to take?" Thrush groans. They've been moving for three hours since crossing into this bizarre series of realms.
It's only then that they realize that nobody knows how long it'll take to get to the Deleter, and with a horrid start, Horbin takes stock of his mind-repairing spells....
Next Time: Deeper into the Far Realms!
the Jester
Legend
Turn back, at this late juncture? Not our stalwarts.
So, gritting the teeth of their mind against the tongue-kiss of madness, they continue on, deeper into the Far Realms.
Deeper, past the smell of orange blossoms that tries to lull them to eternal sleep... past a squirming thing that, disturbingly enough, resembles them... past clouds of soporific vapor that threaten to eat the lungs with stunning pleasures... through mildewy realms of icy gasses hissing from the very space around them.
They pass into an area composed of pure lethal malevolence, a scarlet hatred so powerful it nearly kills them with its force.
Our heroes stagger on through the kaleidescope of insanity.
After an interminable time, the party spies something ahead- a writhing mass of tentacles and hair and grey flesh, the beast closes on them quickly from within a bank of fog that stinks of blood. Its tentacles smash out, lashing at Angelfire, grabbing him greedily and constricting him. The Coilite cries out in horrible pain as his body starts rotting away before his very eyes.
Angelfire timeslips, but it doesn't work like it should. He vanishes, but reappears an instant later, with no in-between for him. (Normally, if he vanishes for 3 rounds, he has a chance to take three rounds worth of actions before reappearing.) The fight's already over; though he doesn't know it, Orbius' swift use of his relatively new analyze enemy spell aided the party in overcoming the pseudonatural creature relatively easily.
The group travels on. Angelfire follows the tugging of the Book of Olaf, seeming now to croon from time to time (though perhaps he's just hearing things...) It's seeping, too, releasing scarlet, blood-like fluid where he holds it.
They've been traveling for almost six hours when they see another, smaller creature. Silvery and feathered, it's a writhing lump of chaotic tendrils and pseudopodia; one tendril is long and thin, like a whip. It burbles close to the group, but it doesn't seem hostile, just curious. Still, given their previous, pretty much universally negative, experiences with pseudonaturals, the party is both wary and suspicious. Thus, they're taken off guard when it speaks.
"Hello!" it burps from a lamprey-like mouth. "Are you from the Material Plane?"
"Yes," Sybele answers instantly.
"Wow! I used to hang out there! We had good times! I haven't seen your type in a while, not since I went home! At least I think it's home- sometimes it's all very confusing.
"Say," it continues, emitting a slobbery (and yet somehow charmingly cute) fluid from its hideous sucker-mouth, "is that Horbin?"
Next Time: Anyone pick up on the clues? Who's our mysterious talkative pseudonatural, and how does he know Horbin??
So, gritting the teeth of their mind against the tongue-kiss of madness, they continue on, deeper into the Far Realms.
Deeper, past the smell of orange blossoms that tries to lull them to eternal sleep... past a squirming thing that, disturbingly enough, resembles them... past clouds of soporific vapor that threaten to eat the lungs with stunning pleasures... through mildewy realms of icy gasses hissing from the very space around them.
They pass into an area composed of pure lethal malevolence, a scarlet hatred so powerful it nearly kills them with its force.
Our heroes stagger on through the kaleidescope of insanity.
After an interminable time, the party spies something ahead- a writhing mass of tentacles and hair and grey flesh, the beast closes on them quickly from within a bank of fog that stinks of blood. Its tentacles smash out, lashing at Angelfire, grabbing him greedily and constricting him. The Coilite cries out in horrible pain as his body starts rotting away before his very eyes.
Angelfire timeslips, but it doesn't work like it should. He vanishes, but reappears an instant later, with no in-between for him. (Normally, if he vanishes for 3 rounds, he has a chance to take three rounds worth of actions before reappearing.) The fight's already over; though he doesn't know it, Orbius' swift use of his relatively new analyze enemy spell aided the party in overcoming the pseudonatural creature relatively easily.
The group travels on. Angelfire follows the tugging of the Book of Olaf, seeming now to croon from time to time (though perhaps he's just hearing things...) It's seeping, too, releasing scarlet, blood-like fluid where he holds it.
They've been traveling for almost six hours when they see another, smaller creature. Silvery and feathered, it's a writhing lump of chaotic tendrils and pseudopodia; one tendril is long and thin, like a whip. It burbles close to the group, but it doesn't seem hostile, just curious. Still, given their previous, pretty much universally negative, experiences with pseudonaturals, the party is both wary and suspicious. Thus, they're taken off guard when it speaks.
"Hello!" it burps from a lamprey-like mouth. "Are you from the Material Plane?"
"Yes," Sybele answers instantly.
"Wow! I used to hang out there! We had good times! I haven't seen your type in a while, not since I went home! At least I think it's home- sometimes it's all very confusing.
"Say," it continues, emitting a slobbery (and yet somehow charmingly cute) fluid from its hideous sucker-mouth, "is that Horbin?"
Next Time: Anyone pick up on the clues? Who's our mysterious talkative pseudonatural, and how does he know Horbin??
the Jester
Legend
A Bit of Flesh
Really, there's nothing like being the gods know how far from a powerful weapon in a plane of utter madness and having a burbling little pseudonatural feathered creature say your name. Sometimes, it's even enough to spark memories of long-lost companions.
"Spukoni?" Horbin exclaims*.
"Hey, you know my name!" the creature chortles gleefully. "Wow! It's been a long time since someone said my name. You guys are cool!"
"But- but-" Horbin's a tad flustered here. "But what are you doing here??"
"I already told you- I came home! This is where I belong... I think. I don't really know, but there was this nice guy who helped me, his name was Nigel, and I didn't know how to get here, but he helped and now that I'm here I'm here! Whee!"
Angelfire calls softly, "Come on." The tension in his voice is evident; clearly, just like everyone else, the effort of will required to stay sane here is telling on him. "We have to go."
"Go? I can be your guide!" Spukoni offers enthusiastically. "You guys know my name!"
"What was your name again?" Sybele asks.
Spukoni hesitates, then waves a tentacle at Horbin. "Ask him. Tell her my name!"
"Spukoni," Horbin says, "his name is Spukoni."
Further, then, into the realms of madness. Iridescent curtains of disgust burst as they pass through them, fatty lumps of uncertain matter bob around them as they peel through Far Realm after Far Realm. Slowly, in the distance, a large thing begins to resolve itself. It's hard to see at first, as if gazing at it through a lens smeared with grease, but as the maddening hours drag past it becomes clearer and clearer.
"What is that?" Drelvin breathes.
"Oh, it's another one of those big things," Spukoni advises him cheerily. "You know, a big mind. A great intellect. A floating power between dimensions. A rambling thought."
"Do you actually know what it is, or are you just making stuff up?"
Spukoni burbles and pops.
Closing in over the next hour or so, the party finally resolves it: a huge mound of quiescent flesh the size of a castle. It looks alive. Angelfire's fingers tense on the Book of Olaf, and little red beads ooze from its leathery cover; it's still leading him on, to what can only be described as a weird orifice.
"Hold on!" says Orbius, trying to divine something about this place before the party acts with their usual rashness. He casts a legend lore, and reports, "Dreaming the doom of the world we know, the Doom Sleeper will shatter the very laws of reality if awoken- or so say the ancient Norwedish."
Drelvin frowns. "That sounds bad," he states, then draws his magical sword. "Shastruth, send in an arcane eye, will ya?" And the sword does so.
"We have to go in," Angelfire says. "That's where the Deleter is."
"We have to be very careful," emphasizes Telemundo. "We don't want to wake this thing up."
"But we have to go in," Angelfire repeats.
Shastruth tells them, "There's some sort of... organ in there. There's a large cavity..." The sword pauses. "I don't see any obvious dangers," it continues in its metallic voice.
Exchanging a glance, Telemundo and Drelvin dimension door inside.
*Ten points for Welverine!
Next Time: Inside the Doom Sleeper!
Really, there's nothing like being the gods know how far from a powerful weapon in a plane of utter madness and having a burbling little pseudonatural feathered creature say your name. Sometimes, it's even enough to spark memories of long-lost companions.
"Spukoni?" Horbin exclaims*.
"Hey, you know my name!" the creature chortles gleefully. "Wow! It's been a long time since someone said my name. You guys are cool!"
"But- but-" Horbin's a tad flustered here. "But what are you doing here??"
"I already told you- I came home! This is where I belong... I think. I don't really know, but there was this nice guy who helped me, his name was Nigel, and I didn't know how to get here, but he helped and now that I'm here I'm here! Whee!"
Angelfire calls softly, "Come on." The tension in his voice is evident; clearly, just like everyone else, the effort of will required to stay sane here is telling on him. "We have to go."
"Go? I can be your guide!" Spukoni offers enthusiastically. "You guys know my name!"
"What was your name again?" Sybele asks.
Spukoni hesitates, then waves a tentacle at Horbin. "Ask him. Tell her my name!"
"Spukoni," Horbin says, "his name is Spukoni."
Further, then, into the realms of madness. Iridescent curtains of disgust burst as they pass through them, fatty lumps of uncertain matter bob around them as they peel through Far Realm after Far Realm. Slowly, in the distance, a large thing begins to resolve itself. It's hard to see at first, as if gazing at it through a lens smeared with grease, but as the maddening hours drag past it becomes clearer and clearer.
"What is that?" Drelvin breathes.
"Oh, it's another one of those big things," Spukoni advises him cheerily. "You know, a big mind. A great intellect. A floating power between dimensions. A rambling thought."
"Do you actually know what it is, or are you just making stuff up?"
Spukoni burbles and pops.
Closing in over the next hour or so, the party finally resolves it: a huge mound of quiescent flesh the size of a castle. It looks alive. Angelfire's fingers tense on the Book of Olaf, and little red beads ooze from its leathery cover; it's still leading him on, to what can only be described as a weird orifice.
"Hold on!" says Orbius, trying to divine something about this place before the party acts with their usual rashness. He casts a legend lore, and reports, "Dreaming the doom of the world we know, the Doom Sleeper will shatter the very laws of reality if awoken- or so say the ancient Norwedish."
Drelvin frowns. "That sounds bad," he states, then draws his magical sword. "Shastruth, send in an arcane eye, will ya?" And the sword does so.
"We have to go in," Angelfire says. "That's where the Deleter is."
"We have to be very careful," emphasizes Telemundo. "We don't want to wake this thing up."
"But we have to go in," Angelfire repeats.
Shastruth tells them, "There's some sort of... organ in there. There's a large cavity..." The sword pauses. "I don't see any obvious dangers," it continues in its metallic voice.
Exchanging a glance, Telemundo and Drelvin dimension door inside.
*Ten points for Welverine!
Next Time: Inside the Doom Sleeper!
the Jester
Legend
Inside the Doom Sleeper
Within the flesh is a pulsing, organic cavity. An unearthly stench pervades the place; Angelfire and Telemundo both gag and clutch their mouths against it, their stomachs churning. It’s sickening. The tissue around them seems quiescent; they can see dark veins pumping weird fluids beneath the ‘skin’ of the walls. There’s some sort of angry red zit-like organ in the room, protected by a thick, stiff skin.
The others join the old sorcerer and the Coilite after a report that there doesn’t seem to be any obvious danger.
”Except for waking this thing up,” breathes Drelvin softly.
Orbius, the Eye of Boccob, casts a divination. He tells his compatriots, “We must extract the Deleter carefully. I think it’s in there.” He points at the organ.
“Yes,” agrees Angelfire, the Book of Olaf clutched in his hands, drawing him gently towards the organ. “That’s where the book wants to go...”
The party quietly discusses things. There’s still the danger of madness, and they certainly don’t want to awaken something that will destroy the world or anything- Drelvin glances sharply at Lester (who says, “What?” as innocently as he can)- so they’re at a tough point. “We might be able to get it out magically,” Orbius suggests dubiously, but after some discussion our heroes can’t come up with a safe-sounding method. In fact, the best option they can come up with is a surgical extraction.
Gently, Horbin begins operating.
The group’s pretty much sweating bullets when he starts, and as he cuts deeper and blots more pus-like fluid, they get more and more nervous. But the Doom Sleeper never even quivers, his skill is so great. And soon, they have it: the Deleter.
A pair of weird, organic-looking glove-like things, the Deleter doesn’t look like something you’d want to stick your hands into. The fingers are long and oddly-angeled. Gingerly, Horbin works it free of the nodule-like organ. “Who’s carrying this?” he demands.
“I might as well,” Angelfire offers, “I already have the Book.”
The others nod at this; if the items will corrupt them, why not limit their influence? So Angelfire wraps the Deleter in cloth and stows it in his pack for the moment.
Then, “Let’s get the hell out of here,” says Lester.
Next Time: The Deleter claims its first victim!
Within the flesh is a pulsing, organic cavity. An unearthly stench pervades the place; Angelfire and Telemundo both gag and clutch their mouths against it, their stomachs churning. It’s sickening. The tissue around them seems quiescent; they can see dark veins pumping weird fluids beneath the ‘skin’ of the walls. There’s some sort of angry red zit-like organ in the room, protected by a thick, stiff skin.
The others join the old sorcerer and the Coilite after a report that there doesn’t seem to be any obvious danger.
”Except for waking this thing up,” breathes Drelvin softly.
Orbius, the Eye of Boccob, casts a divination. He tells his compatriots, “We must extract the Deleter carefully. I think it’s in there.” He points at the organ.
“Yes,” agrees Angelfire, the Book of Olaf clutched in his hands, drawing him gently towards the organ. “That’s where the book wants to go...”
The party quietly discusses things. There’s still the danger of madness, and they certainly don’t want to awaken something that will destroy the world or anything- Drelvin glances sharply at Lester (who says, “What?” as innocently as he can)- so they’re at a tough point. “We might be able to get it out magically,” Orbius suggests dubiously, but after some discussion our heroes can’t come up with a safe-sounding method. In fact, the best option they can come up with is a surgical extraction.
Gently, Horbin begins operating.
The group’s pretty much sweating bullets when he starts, and as he cuts deeper and blots more pus-like fluid, they get more and more nervous. But the Doom Sleeper never even quivers, his skill is so great. And soon, they have it: the Deleter.
A pair of weird, organic-looking glove-like things, the Deleter doesn’t look like something you’d want to stick your hands into. The fingers are long and oddly-angeled. Gingerly, Horbin works it free of the nodule-like organ. “Who’s carrying this?” he demands.
“I might as well,” Angelfire offers, “I already have the Book.”
The others nod at this; if the items will corrupt them, why not limit their influence? So Angelfire wraps the Deleter in cloth and stows it in his pack for the moment.
Then, “Let’s get the hell out of here,” says Lester.
Next Time: The Deleter claims its first victim!
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