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To War Against Felenga (FINAL UPDATE POSTED!)
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<blockquote data-quote="the Jester" data-source="post: 966134" data-attributes="member: 1210"><p><strong>Going Back to Darkhold</strong></p><p></p><p>“Quickened <em>meteor swarms,</em>” Malford grumbles.</p><p></p><p>“Yeah, that’s definitely what I call in over our heads,” Horbin agrees, equally disgruntled.</p><p></p><p>“Well, if we go back there, we can try to go into that Darkhold place and hope that Felenga hasn’t- well- done whatever it is he’s trying to do. And remember, the Master of that place imprisoned Fuligin for six billion years,” the L points out.</p><p></p><p>“Until you released him,” Malford chides.</p><p></p><p>“Hey, you’d think that if you had some guy like that locked up you’d have some sort of guard on the release mechanism!”</p><p></p><p>“Except that there was no way anyone should’ve been able to get to it... not until Zelman managed to get his staff to Thimbleton to guide us to him. Let’s just not pull any random levers this time, okay?”</p><p></p><p>Lester sighs. “This isn’t getting us anywhere. I say we go back to Darkhold and see what we see. If we have to, we can always flee in a hurry.”</p><p></p><p>“Maybe,” Drelvin says. “Depends on how fast Felenga throws those <em>meteor swarms.</em>”</p><p></p><p>“He almost killed me,” Angelfire adds.</p><p></p><p>“And besides, Darkhold moves around,” Malford points out. “It probably won’t be there when we return.”</p><p></p><p>“Can’t hurt to try,” the Elementalist insists.</p><p></p><p>“Unless Felenga’s still there,” Drelvin mutters. “Then it could hurt a lot.” But nobody pays him heed.</p><p></p><p>Healing, a brief rest full of paranoid dreams, a hearty breakfast- and then our heroes depart, <em>teleporting</em> back to the caverns beneath the Bendrock Mountains where the road they were traveling led. Heck, even if Darkhold isn’t there they can at least go kill illithids. And there, just as they left it, is Darkhold. The hedges remain, blocking their view of everything except the tallest portions of the towers through some trick played by magic on perspective. Even when they fly above the hedges, the adventurers cannot see more. In fact, attempting to fly over the hedges reveals an oddity: it just doesn’t seem possible. They always seem to rise just a little higher. Climbing across them is easy enough, however, and so our heroes do so- but not without some trepidation. They drop down into a grassy yard; ahead of them, a castle, surrounded by a moat. The drawbridge is down, inviting; there is an open entrance beyond it.</p><p></p><p>“This place is creepy,” Lester remembers. He glances at Malford. “Why do you think Felenga wanted to get here?”</p><p></p><p>Nobody has an answer.</p><p></p><p>Everyone under the influence of a <em>mass flight</em>, our heroes approach the drawbridge. Nervously, Drelvin draws Shastruth and asks for some reconnaissance; in response, the blade sends forth an <em>arcane eye</em>. “That’s the toilet room,” Lester mutters, “or at least it was last time we were here.” Of course, that was the L, Malford and a number of other adventurers- who are not present. <em>I wish Hobbes or Stone or Thimbleton was here,</em> the L thinks to himself, missing his old friends.</p><p></p><p>“Looks clear,” comes the crisp, metallic voice of the archer’s sword, and the party flies cautiously forward into Darkhold. They find themselves on a ledge of some sort of white ceramic material that goes almost completely around a small bowl-shaped room half full of water. There are no obvious exits, but Drelvin’s keen eyes spot a hole in the bottom of the bowl, under the water, and after a few moments of hesitation the archer jumps in. He glances up with a look of horror on his face. </p><p></p><p>“Oh, YUCK!” he cries, and then a great whirlpool forms, flushing him down the hole.</p><p></p><p>“Drelvin!” Malford cries, but the archer is nowhere to be seen- or heard. “Crap,” the gnome-king mutters, and plugs his nose and jumps into the water. Spluttering, he glances upward- and sees a huge sphincter opening to dump offal into the water with him. Pulling back in disgust, he almost flies up and out of the water- but there’s a dull roar, and before he has a chance to move, the whirlpool forms again and he, too, vanishes from sight.</p><p></p><p>“Oh, well,” sighs Angelfire, and the rest of the group joins in being flushed. The water is disorienting, swirling them around, making it impossible, briefly, to tell up from down. When they find themselves breaking the surface, the group is in a small pool of waste-filled water that seems to be the endpoint of the drain. And the room the pool is in is immense- and full of offal. Huge piles of it, scores of feet high in places. No part of the floor is clean of it; no walls are visible, save walls of poop. Even the ceiling seems to be covered in clinging crustiness. The stench is hideous.</p><p></p><p>“Gah!” Angelfire coughs, pulling himself from the pool. “This is really gross.”</p><p></p><p>Indeed it is; and it only gets grosser as a huge log of filth begins to move, rearing up like a snake to strike.</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p><em><strong>Next Time:</strong></em> Our heroes fight poop! Advice from the Master of Darkhold! And what did Felenga want those samples for anyway?</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="the Jester, post: 966134, member: 1210"] [b]Going Back to Darkhold[/b] “Quickened [i]meteor swarms,[/i]” Malford grumbles. “Yeah, that’s definitely what I call in over our heads,” Horbin agrees, equally disgruntled. “Well, if we go back there, we can try to go into that Darkhold place and hope that Felenga hasn’t- well- done whatever it is he’s trying to do. And remember, the Master of that place imprisoned Fuligin for six billion years,” the L points out. “Until you released him,” Malford chides. “Hey, you’d think that if you had some guy like that locked up you’d have some sort of guard on the release mechanism!” “Except that there was no way anyone should’ve been able to get to it... not until Zelman managed to get his staff to Thimbleton to guide us to him. Let’s just not pull any random levers this time, okay?” Lester sighs. “This isn’t getting us anywhere. I say we go back to Darkhold and see what we see. If we have to, we can always flee in a hurry.” “Maybe,” Drelvin says. “Depends on how fast Felenga throws those [i]meteor swarms.[/i]” “He almost killed me,” Angelfire adds. “And besides, Darkhold moves around,” Malford points out. “It probably won’t be there when we return.” “Can’t hurt to try,” the Elementalist insists. “Unless Felenga’s still there,” Drelvin mutters. “Then it could hurt a lot.” But nobody pays him heed. Healing, a brief rest full of paranoid dreams, a hearty breakfast- and then our heroes depart, [i]teleporting[/i] back to the caverns beneath the Bendrock Mountains where the road they were traveling led. Heck, even if Darkhold isn’t there they can at least go kill illithids. And there, just as they left it, is Darkhold. The hedges remain, blocking their view of everything except the tallest portions of the towers through some trick played by magic on perspective. Even when they fly above the hedges, the adventurers cannot see more. In fact, attempting to fly over the hedges reveals an oddity: it just doesn’t seem possible. They always seem to rise just a little higher. Climbing across them is easy enough, however, and so our heroes do so- but not without some trepidation. They drop down into a grassy yard; ahead of them, a castle, surrounded by a moat. The drawbridge is down, inviting; there is an open entrance beyond it. “This place is creepy,” Lester remembers. He glances at Malford. “Why do you think Felenga wanted to get here?” Nobody has an answer. Everyone under the influence of a [i]mass flight[/i], our heroes approach the drawbridge. Nervously, Drelvin draws Shastruth and asks for some reconnaissance; in response, the blade sends forth an [i]arcane eye[/i]. “That’s the toilet room,” Lester mutters, “or at least it was last time we were here.” Of course, that was the L, Malford and a number of other adventurers- who are not present. [i]I wish Hobbes or Stone or Thimbleton was here,[/i] the L thinks to himself, missing his old friends. “Looks clear,” comes the crisp, metallic voice of the archer’s sword, and the party flies cautiously forward into Darkhold. They find themselves on a ledge of some sort of white ceramic material that goes almost completely around a small bowl-shaped room half full of water. There are no obvious exits, but Drelvin’s keen eyes spot a hole in the bottom of the bowl, under the water, and after a few moments of hesitation the archer jumps in. He glances up with a look of horror on his face. “Oh, YUCK!” he cries, and then a great whirlpool forms, flushing him down the hole. “Drelvin!” Malford cries, but the archer is nowhere to be seen- or heard. “Crap,” the gnome-king mutters, and plugs his nose and jumps into the water. Spluttering, he glances upward- and sees a huge sphincter opening to dump offal into the water with him. Pulling back in disgust, he almost flies up and out of the water- but there’s a dull roar, and before he has a chance to move, the whirlpool forms again and he, too, vanishes from sight. “Oh, well,” sighs Angelfire, and the rest of the group joins in being flushed. The water is disorienting, swirling them around, making it impossible, briefly, to tell up from down. When they find themselves breaking the surface, the group is in a small pool of waste-filled water that seems to be the endpoint of the drain. And the room the pool is in is immense- and full of offal. Huge piles of it, scores of feet high in places. No part of the floor is clean of it; no walls are visible, save walls of poop. Even the ceiling seems to be covered in clinging crustiness. The stench is hideous. “Gah!” Angelfire coughs, pulling himself from the pool. “This is really gross.” Indeed it is; and it only gets grosser as a huge log of filth begins to move, rearing up like a snake to strike. [i][b]Next Time:[/b][/i][b][/b] Our heroes fight poop! Advice from the Master of Darkhold! And what did Felenga want those samples for anyway? [/QUOTE]
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