TURTLEDOME!: Battle Bone (DM: KenHood, Judge: Lord S.)

[KenHood]

Marco leads you through several turns and twists into a cul-de-sac before a well-appointed, older style home. Where Cousin Eustace's lawn was garish, this one is elegant and understated. A long flight of stone steps leads up a hill to the porch of the home, where sits an elderly gentleman in a wheeled chair. His head lolls to one side. Drool trickles from his gaping mouth. You can see his teeth are yellowed, spotted, decayed. His hands are swollen; fingers twisted. Liver spots decorate his skin, almost as if he were tatooed in imitation of alligator hide. He is bald--completely--lacking even eyebrows. One eye, dark, swims in its socket, focusing on nothing. The other eye, white with cataracts, moves not at all.

Marco walks up the steps with small, timid paces. "Ahem. Ah, Mr. Wortswill? Um, hello, sir? My cousin, Eustace the Bowelripper, said you might have need of assistance with...uhm..."

"RATS!" blurts the old man in a watery, disjointed voice.

Marco flinches. "Oh! Ah. Uh, yes, sir. You see, we--"

The bald man's dark eye focuses on you momentarily, as he whispers in a conspiratorial tone, "In my cellar."

 

[fireinthedust]

You can see his teeth are yellowed, spotted, decayed. His hands are swollen; fingers twisted. Liver spots decorate his skin, almost as if he were tatooed in imitation of alligator hide. He is bald--completely--lacking even eyebrows. One eye, dark, swims in its socket, focusing on nothing. The other eye, white with cataracts, moves not at all.

[sblock=ooc]This is a player note to everyone here, reminding you kids to brush your teeth regularly. The mouth really is a petri dish of bacteria and disease, the gateway of blight into the body; I guess your toothbrush and toothpaste could be, like, druids or paladins, or magical implements +5 vs. abberent tooth decay, I dunno. Remember, in the real world you don't get special attacks for being gross; just more expensive insurance.
"Now you know!" "and knowing is half the battle!"[/sblock]

Emral sucks his teeth, wondering to himself when the last time he cleaned them was. Shrugs.

He sends a cantrip-whisper to the dental-unhygenist and his party We're here to help; what are we dealing with, regular rats? Say "rats" once for yes, twice for no.

 

[mohalloran]

[sblock='OOC']I don't know if I've done this yet, but I wanted to make sure to use a healing surge to get back to full hit points after the combat was completed.[/sblock]

Vaunea steps forward, looking straight at the elderly gentleman. "Vaunea here. Show Vaunea cellar. Kill rats." Pulling out her axe and shield, Vaunea looks ready to enter the man's cellar and kill.

 

[KenHood]

"RATS!" exclaims the old man.

He twitches a bit, murmuring, "In the library."

"Eating my childhood."

 

[Atanatotatos]

Hadarai greets the old, wrecked man with a polite nod. Then, hearing his first explanation, unsheates his sword and adjusts his shield on his arm.
Hearing, then, that the rats are apparently just rats ruining old memories in an old library, he lets go a slightly bothered sigh.
I hope we've not come here for a plain vermin extermination...

[sblock=ooc]I bet my a** they aren't "rats" [/sblock]

 

[KenHood]

You hear the latch on the door click. A portly matron backs out the door holding a dinner tray.

"Dinner time, Mr. Swillwort," she all but sings.

She spins about, sees your party--weapons bared, bristling with potential violence--and screams.

The tray falls. Plates shatter. Green peas roll across the cobblestones of the porch. Hot tea steams in the air and seeps into the spaces between the stones.

"RATS!"

She rushes in front of the old man. Arms spread, she shields him from you. "Get away from him, you horrible thugs! He just a harmless old man!"

"In the tiny, empty spaces between thoughts."

She shakes a fist. Her face reddens. "Get out of here! We don't have anything of value! Get out, or I'll call for the constables!"

 

[fireinthedust]

Uuuuuhhhh.... we're here because his Cousin brought us. Er, we're friends with Cousin Eustice, the one-armed halfling warrior? He told us this house is, erm, being attacked by, well, "rats" Emral bunny-ears the word. Sooo... are you under the thrall of mind-crushing psionic rats? Emral hazards the guess, casually tossing it the matron's way. If you are, you could save us all a lot of trouble and just 'fess up now.

 

[KenHood]

"What?! Who?!"

"He's my cous--"

"RATS!"

"HELP! HELP! SOMEONE GET THE CONSTABLES! THIEVES! MURDERERS!"

"They don't like cheese."

"Oh, dear me!"

 

[Atanatotatos]

Hadarai puts his sword back in its scabbard, moves slightly closer to the woman, bends his head with charming attitude, and in calm, soft tone, speaks to her: Please calm down, madam, as we mean no harm. We were asked to offer assistance to sir Wortswill. He confirmed, apparently, that he is indeed in need of our help to get rid of some sort of infestation.


Diplomacy:26!! Nat 20!!! I hope she doesn't fall for Hadarai

 

[KenHood]

The matron rips off her clothes and hurls herself at Hadarai.

Just kidding!



---

The matron stops screaming and starts hyperventilating. With both hands, she waves the skirt of her apron, blowing air into her face. "Oh! Oh! You folk scairt the life near out of me!"

"RATS!"

She gulps, then hiccups. "When I saw them blades, I thought, 'Annie, the gods has decided your time was up. Somebody from the past done come to do in Mr. Swillwort, and you ain't gonna be able to runs them off.'"

She hiccups again. "Ooooh! Land's sake..."

"They fold, spindle, and mutilate to make babies."

Annie leans against the rail of the porch. Hiccups. "Gods ha' mercy!"

Hiccup.

"I don't rightly know what you mean about an infestation. I reckon poor Mr. Swillwort's condition, talking about rats and such. I figures you musta heard about from-"

Hiccup.

"Some folk 'round these parts. They's all a bunch of gossips if ever the day is long. More like to make something up interesting if there ain't nothing worth talking 'bout."

Hiccup.

"I'm sorry to dissappoint y'all, but ain't no rats in this here home. About two year back, Mr. Swillwort developed this here condition, like you see him. He just stopped moving. Called a doctor and a priest. Weren't nothing they could do for him. A couple of months after he got stuck like this, he starts talking about rats, saying all kind of odd things about them. I figured maybe the poor fella was seeing rats running about the house while he was just sitting there, so I called us an exterminator. They went through the whole house, but ain't found nothing. I keep this here place clean as a whistle, just like my momma kept it for Mr. Swillwort before she got the gout so bad she cain't work no more, so there ain't no way no nasty old rats gonna be finding a home in here."

"On second look, Mr. Elf, sir, y'all seem to be a right heroic bunch, and if there was rats, I reckon it would be a step down from your deeds of daring to handle them for the likes of us. I'm sorry y'all showed up for nothing. Them folk around these parts'll make up something interesting if there ain't nothing to be interested in, so y'all must have..."

"Oh, Gods have mercy. Look at me running off at the mouth. I'm afraid y'all scairt me right through to my bones. My poor heart is running like a herd of quicklings after a stick of butter."