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Vincent's Laboratory Notes and Footnotes (Updated December 30, 2007)
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<blockquote data-quote="Altalazar" data-source="post: 3271355" data-attributes="member: 939"><p>Notes – Chapter Twenty-Six – Orc Flesh is weak</p><p></p><p> The orcs had some self-awareness that their flesh is weak. They departed the escarpment as soon as they saw our undead army approaching their position. We quickly gave chase, the zombies bringing up the rear. The former paladin looked particularly grim as his dead flesh clawed its way along the mountainside path. So interesting to watch the dead flesh move, its pieces slipping off the bone in places. I wondered why the zombie flesh, while stronger, was so much slower than its nimble alabaster cousin. There was only one answer. More research.</p><p> As we rounded the corner and entered the face of the mountain, arrows began to issue forth from hidden holes in the rock face. So the orcs know flesh is weak and take appropriate precautions to protect their flesh. The mute bard sent his magic into their holes and hopefully put them to sleep while we followed the self-aware orc flesh though the door to their fortress and into the mountain. Their flesh did not live far past that threshold. </p><p> I followed slowly behind with my zombies, verifying that at least for that time, the arrow orcs were silent. Inside, I saw a large chasm that was crossed by a small rope bridge guarded by two more orcs on the other side. My alabaster beauties charged straight across the bridge and engaged them, allowing my research assistants to cross unmolested. </p><p> The walk across the bridge was not easy. Such things are better written about in a research report than experienced. One can be far more objective that way. My objectivity was sorely tested. I do not enjoy heights. My flesh is as weak as my parents’ was. But I made it across. </p><p> On the other side, there were caves and more orcs. We freed two farmers who claimed they would give us a great reward if they returned to their villages, so we let them go. Then we went further into the caves and ended more orc flesh, along with what my reference materials assure me was an ogre. The ogre had two pet wolves, much like Willows, only much less accommodating. </p><p> We cleared out all of the orc flesh save three and thoroughly explored the tunnels. Then there was a bit of trouble, but not with orcs. </p><p></p><p> Notes – Chapter Twenty-Seven – Orc flesh unpreserved for research</p><p></p><p> The last room to contain orcs, though we did not know this in advance, contained a respectable orc named Burdug. She appeared to be deep into her own research when we stumbled into her room through a hidden door, her pot brewing with exciting possibilities beneath her old, gnarled hands. She was enraged at the interruption, which was entirely understandable. Research is a delicate business! Her two assistants were ready to fight as well, but then they all sensibly decided to talk to us after we surrounded them and showed them they were outnumbered almost four to one. </p><p> At least, she decided to talk. When her assistants refused to fight, she threw a flash of alchemist’s fire onto each of them and burned them alive as she called them “useless fools!” That was not very sensible. It is very hard to find good research assistants. </p><p> The Marshall asked her what she was working on. She told him, “potions! You ought to try a taste!” </p><p> “I’m on a special diet,” he replied. </p><p> “Let’s talk about your research,” I asked her, eager to get inside her orcish skull to see what she had learned. I also figured that once I had emptied her mind, she would make a fine specimen herself for my research. Balor disagreed. As her lifeless corpse dropped to the stone floor, I screamed at him, “wait, she was useful!” To which he replied, “She has no knowledge, and orcs are useless in every respect.” As I said before, good research assistants are hard to find. </p><p></p><p> Notes – Chapter Twenty-Eight – Fire and stirges and tunnels down – Stirge flesh makes other flesh weak</p><p></p><p> There was one room beyond hers, through a locked door that had the key on our side. We cautiously entered and were met by four flying bird-like creatures that my research reference manual indicated were stirges. They feast on blood. They take the strength of flesh and make it their own, what strength there is. Their flesh, despite partaking of so much of ours, was still weak, and we dispatched them. Which just proves that weak flesh begets weak flesh. </p><p> At the far end of the room was a door that did nothing but fill half the room with alchemist’s fire when opened, as evidenced by the four old, charred orc skeletons on the floor in front of it. After confirming that this was indeed the case, and after we put the flames in Belor’s flesh out, we headed down the enhanced, but natural, staircase that led further into the mountain complex. We crossed a short stream before reaching an open cavern, which had nothing remarkable in it save two more stirges. The next room was far more interesting. </p><p></p><p> Notes – Chapter Twenty-Nine – An unused tomb – what a tease</p><p></p><p> One of the caves beyond was filled with open caskets of stone, all prepared for the final resting spot of the dwarves who built this fortress. Unfortunately, dwarf flesh was even weaker than orc flesh and it appears that almost all of the dwarves perished before they could be placed here. Only three of the sepulchers of twenty-three were in use. Only one of those had anything of note, a masterwork warhammer bearing the mark of Durgeddin, which made it worth far more than its weight in gold to us. Research is expensive, after all. </p><p> Looking east, we saw a huge cavern that was accessible to us from a short stairs to the south, but we abandoned that for now to head west, through a small passage leading to a pool of water at the far end of the stream we found earlier. We sent in my alabaster beauties first, and they sniffed out two foul smelling beasts which they fortunately could not smell at all. Troglodytes. We dispatched them, then searched the cave further to the east, finding a large subterranean lizard on a chain that guarded a chest. We guessed that the chest contained great riches, so our dead paladin accommodated us by approaching the chest, just out of the creature’s grasp. Unfortunately, it was not out of the lizard’s tongue’s grasp, and Sir Bradford soon found himself being slowly eaten by the lizard. There goes our meals for the week. On the plus side, this means the magic of the whistle was freed up to raise one of our dwarven friends in a sepulcher. Though on second thought, perhaps Troglodyte flesh should participate in my next experiment. </p><p> In that vein, we opened up a plug in the Troglodyte cave to the west and prepared to face the tribe as a whole inside. At first, all we could see was the darkness and all we could smell was the dank, putrid smell of troglodytes in domestic bliss. Then came the claws.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Altalazar, post: 3271355, member: 939"] Notes – Chapter Twenty-Six – Orc Flesh is weak The orcs had some self-awareness that their flesh is weak. They departed the escarpment as soon as they saw our undead army approaching their position. We quickly gave chase, the zombies bringing up the rear. The former paladin looked particularly grim as his dead flesh clawed its way along the mountainside path. So interesting to watch the dead flesh move, its pieces slipping off the bone in places. I wondered why the zombie flesh, while stronger, was so much slower than its nimble alabaster cousin. There was only one answer. More research. As we rounded the corner and entered the face of the mountain, arrows began to issue forth from hidden holes in the rock face. So the orcs know flesh is weak and take appropriate precautions to protect their flesh. The mute bard sent his magic into their holes and hopefully put them to sleep while we followed the self-aware orc flesh though the door to their fortress and into the mountain. Their flesh did not live far past that threshold. I followed slowly behind with my zombies, verifying that at least for that time, the arrow orcs were silent. Inside, I saw a large chasm that was crossed by a small rope bridge guarded by two more orcs on the other side. My alabaster beauties charged straight across the bridge and engaged them, allowing my research assistants to cross unmolested. The walk across the bridge was not easy. Such things are better written about in a research report than experienced. One can be far more objective that way. My objectivity was sorely tested. I do not enjoy heights. My flesh is as weak as my parents’ was. But I made it across. On the other side, there were caves and more orcs. We freed two farmers who claimed they would give us a great reward if they returned to their villages, so we let them go. Then we went further into the caves and ended more orc flesh, along with what my reference materials assure me was an ogre. The ogre had two pet wolves, much like Willows, only much less accommodating. We cleared out all of the orc flesh save three and thoroughly explored the tunnels. Then there was a bit of trouble, but not with orcs. Notes – Chapter Twenty-Seven – Orc flesh unpreserved for research The last room to contain orcs, though we did not know this in advance, contained a respectable orc named Burdug. She appeared to be deep into her own research when we stumbled into her room through a hidden door, her pot brewing with exciting possibilities beneath her old, gnarled hands. She was enraged at the interruption, which was entirely understandable. Research is a delicate business! Her two assistants were ready to fight as well, but then they all sensibly decided to talk to us after we surrounded them and showed them they were outnumbered almost four to one. At least, she decided to talk. When her assistants refused to fight, she threw a flash of alchemist’s fire onto each of them and burned them alive as she called them “useless fools!” That was not very sensible. It is very hard to find good research assistants. The Marshall asked her what she was working on. She told him, “potions! You ought to try a taste!” “I’m on a special diet,” he replied. “Let’s talk about your research,” I asked her, eager to get inside her orcish skull to see what she had learned. I also figured that once I had emptied her mind, she would make a fine specimen herself for my research. Balor disagreed. As her lifeless corpse dropped to the stone floor, I screamed at him, “wait, she was useful!” To which he replied, “She has no knowledge, and orcs are useless in every respect.” As I said before, good research assistants are hard to find. Notes – Chapter Twenty-Eight – Fire and stirges and tunnels down – Stirge flesh makes other flesh weak There was one room beyond hers, through a locked door that had the key on our side. We cautiously entered and were met by four flying bird-like creatures that my research reference manual indicated were stirges. They feast on blood. They take the strength of flesh and make it their own, what strength there is. Their flesh, despite partaking of so much of ours, was still weak, and we dispatched them. Which just proves that weak flesh begets weak flesh. At the far end of the room was a door that did nothing but fill half the room with alchemist’s fire when opened, as evidenced by the four old, charred orc skeletons on the floor in front of it. After confirming that this was indeed the case, and after we put the flames in Belor’s flesh out, we headed down the enhanced, but natural, staircase that led further into the mountain complex. We crossed a short stream before reaching an open cavern, which had nothing remarkable in it save two more stirges. The next room was far more interesting. Notes – Chapter Twenty-Nine – An unused tomb – what a tease One of the caves beyond was filled with open caskets of stone, all prepared for the final resting spot of the dwarves who built this fortress. Unfortunately, dwarf flesh was even weaker than orc flesh and it appears that almost all of the dwarves perished before they could be placed here. Only three of the sepulchers of twenty-three were in use. Only one of those had anything of note, a masterwork warhammer bearing the mark of Durgeddin, which made it worth far more than its weight in gold to us. Research is expensive, after all. Looking east, we saw a huge cavern that was accessible to us from a short stairs to the south, but we abandoned that for now to head west, through a small passage leading to a pool of water at the far end of the stream we found earlier. We sent in my alabaster beauties first, and they sniffed out two foul smelling beasts which they fortunately could not smell at all. Troglodytes. We dispatched them, then searched the cave further to the east, finding a large subterranean lizard on a chain that guarded a chest. We guessed that the chest contained great riches, so our dead paladin accommodated us by approaching the chest, just out of the creature’s grasp. Unfortunately, it was not out of the lizard’s tongue’s grasp, and Sir Bradford soon found himself being slowly eaten by the lizard. There goes our meals for the week. On the plus side, this means the magic of the whistle was freed up to raise one of our dwarven friends in a sepulcher. Though on second thought, perhaps Troglodyte flesh should participate in my next experiment. In that vein, we opened up a plug in the Troglodyte cave to the west and prepared to face the tribe as a whole inside. At first, all we could see was the darkness and all we could smell was the dank, putrid smell of troglodytes in domestic bliss. Then came the claws. [/QUOTE]
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