As the vampires back away from the cleric of Pelor, one of them slips on the coins littering the floor. With a slip and a boom he false on his arse, looking absolutely stupid. The other two vampires momentarily forget their cleric dilemna and break out laughing at his clumsiness. The fallen vampire gets angry, grabs an ankle of one of them laughing at him and trips him. Now two vampires are lying on floor looking stupid. The third vampire continues to laugh and both the prone undead beings trip him. Soon all three individauls are lying on the floor laughing so hard that the adventurers are able to escape.
The vampires take a moment out of their laughter and stare at each other. One of them reaches into his cloak and pulls out a funny looking metal key of some kind.
"Do you think they were looking for this?"
The vampires erupt in laughter once more.
"Stupid 1st level adventurers. Don't they know this module is for character levels 4-7 and that room 6 never contained vampires in the first place."
"Perhaps they didn't read the module before coming."
"Or better yet, maybe their all from Greyhawk City where the literacy rate is a mere 13.57%. I betcha they can't even read."
The vampires all take off their Halloween masks and reveal that they are actually bugbears.
"So how did you pull off the gaseous form look?"
"Oh, that's simple, I used a flim projecter. Got the idea from a Scooby Doo episode. Remember when those meddling kids were here along time ago? I think they signed the guest book in the first room of the dungeon."
"Trick or Treat" they hollar to the fleeing heroes.
Mort suddenly realizes that on the ship so long ago, Eileen talked in her sleep. He recalls her mumbling something about bringing 10 pink and purple artifacts along. What great magic could the Priestess possess? _________________ Eileen of Greyhawk, Prophet of Istus, Messenger of the Gods
Following smillan in the hasty retreat, he suddenly recalls something he overheard Eileen said on the ship while she was sleeping (hey elves don't need much sleep, I was bored).
"smillan, Ragr. Remember those pink and purple artifacts Eileen had us drag along? I think they may be magic items useful to us. I think she foresaw this predicament and insisted we bring them for a purpose!"
Suddenly realizes his Istusian skepticism is crumbling.
Now the true test, will the adventures recall what Eileen brought along that was pink and purple or will they have to scroll through the thread to find it
My bad...there were 12 not 10 of them.
And if they do figure it out, what will they do to activate the magic? _________________ Eileen of Greyhawk, Prophet of Istus, Messenger of the Gods
Rubs chin in thought looking at the gaudy stack of umbrellas.
"Indeed, I have heard opening these things indoors is bad luck, but as to their true magical properties I can only hazard a guess. We need a halfling perspective (since they are next girliest thing to a female cleric). Ragr? Speculation on what they are for or where we should make use of them?"
Pink and purple... UMBRELLAS! THEY WERE UMBRELLAS! What the hell are we supposed to do with 12 pink and purple umbrellas?
Mortellan said:
Quote:
Indeed, I have heard opening these things indoors is bad luck, but as to their true magical properties I can only hazard a guess. We need a halfling perspective (since they are next girliest thing to a female cleric). Ragr? Speculation on what they are for or where we should make use of them?
Eileen said:
Oh, its really quite easy. You see first you....
Istus said:
Shut Up Eileen, Your Dead!
Eileen said:
Oh, Sorry! _________________ Eileen of Greyhawk, Prophet of Istus, Messenger of the Gods
"Whuh?" say Ragr and Mort at almost the same time.
"Ah nothing. Must have been the wind. Well, I say we open up the umbrellas one at a time and see what happens. Maybe it's like a Deck of Many Things but... you know... umbrellas."
"I agree smillan. Trial and error is essential since we have neither the time nor resources to properly Identify or Legend Lore these...umbrellas..."
Looks to Ragr who smiles vacantly during the conversation. What he misses is the Silent intoning of a Suggestion spell placed on him that requires he try opening one of the umbrellas, with the key word being "Eileen".
I wasn't smiling vacantly, I was lost in thought (mushroom risotto, Mmmmmm!). And now I've come round; what's all this hullabaloo (some say brouhaha)? I lose myself in visions of softly saute'd fungi in a creamy sauce, resting elegantly upon a pillow of....Arghh! Can't break free!!!!
Okay. Someone must have placed some sort of charm on me. Man, that felt like I was away for weeks. It also felt like I was having to work for a living too. But, it seems it was only a matter of moments in the real world. And what could possibly have gone wrong in that time? Wait a minute.
Oh my Gods, they've killed Eileen.
You b*******!
"What on Oerth are you two doing standing around cogitating. Help me grab up all that cash and while we do that we'll think up a plan."
Ragr falls to his knees banging the floor with his left hand (his other hand being somewhat engaged) crying "why, why, why have you taken her? Cruel fate, she was so young and pure and despite our many disagreements, over time I really grew to consider her somebody that I met. But now she's gone. And what's left? Nothing. An empty void in all our hearts and.....Right that seems to be all the coins." Stands.
"How could you bozos be so careless as to let Eileen get mullah'd?" He glowers at smillan and Mort.
Mort seems to be muttering something. Whatever. Ooo, I feel all tingly. Mort, I really love you, you're my best friend in the whole world. Here, let me shelter you from the rain with this umbrella. Wow, the purple bits have got some sort of swirly pattern on them. Looks so familiar. Reminds me of pointy hats and crazed cultists. Ah, but the pink bits are fluffy and lovely and they make me think of........"Eileen".
Wow, I was beginning to think nobody cared! DUM DUM DUM, UMBRELLA #1
Poof A thousand and three lovely lady sprite like creatures fly out from underneath the umbrella. The massive blanket of tiny light blue skinned and green haired fairies swirl about the room. Many of them are carrying fiddles and refreshing cold drinks.
A particularly beautiful creature seperates from the crowd and flies down to greet the adventures.
"Greetings sorry looking, I mean sorrowful adventurers, it is I Felicia M'Be princess of the fey. You have summoned my fellow kind from a land far far away. How is it that we may be of service to you?"
MEANWHILE, AS SHE SPEAKS IT IS NOTICED THAT A GROUP OF SPRITES ARE GATHERING TOGETHER AND ARE PREPARING TO PLAY A SONG.
"Hello, how may I Sprite'n up your day? Oh, really, wow, that sounds great. Yep we'll take the job. Ok, on our way."
"Ok guys pack it up, none of this lame dead adventurer music stuff for us!"
FELICIA M'BE TURNS BACK TO THE ADVENTURERS
"Sorry, gotta go, we got ourselves a real gig, but before we go, Eileen wanted to go a bit theatrical on you, so we thought with our wonderous magic, we would give her one more opportunity".
TOGETHER IN UNISON, ALL 1003 FLUTTERING FEY TOAST EILEEN WITH THEIR FAVORITE DRINK
AND WITH THAT.......POOF! ALL THE SPRITES DISAPPEAR
Eileen's grisly remains slowly rise from the floor. The torches in the room dim and Eileen reaches for a stool resting in the corner.....slowly a spotlight centers on her.....haunting music begins, coming from ghostly musicians in the background.....
(Ragr starts dancing around the chamber, pink and purple umbrella in hand) "E's are good, E's are good.
E's are good, E's Ebenezer Good"
As Ragr dances around the room chanting "E's are good, E's are good, E's are good, E's Ebenezer Good" he invokes great magic. Ruins from inside the umbrella come to surface and glow brightly, one for each letter of the alphabet. The "E" glows from white to hot blue as the magic for that letter fully surfaces. Calling upon the powers that be, Ragr summons....
The old man looks up rather bewildered and wondering if he is seeing yet another ghost of christmas.
"What say you there young man? Do you work for me....I don't recall you being on my payroll."
Looking about at the enormous treasure the adventurers have accumulated, the old man declares..
"Ah thieves I say you are...been into my personal vault have you? I'll have you know I amassed my great wealth by pinching copper pieces all my life, cheating my emplyees, not paying overtime and never giving them insurance as well. As for sick time....Bah Hum Bug...it doesn't exist."
Looks at Eileen's pitiful remains.....
"What's this another employee of mine....better not have died before the wench finished her work. If she didn't complete her daily duties before she kicked the bucket, I'll have to have her family pay for the loss. Now what to do about you thieves?"
At that point that "E" on the umbrella dims out and fades away. It is at that moment the adventurers realize that they can summon anyone or anything they wish with the magical umbrella, that is with the remaining letters of the alphabet. _________________ Eileen of Greyhawk, Prophet of Istus, Messenger of the Gods
"Dunno," says Ragr, "Maybe something like Needfest?"
As the apparition fades and the implications of Umbrella #2's powers claws its way into the trios' forebrains they stand there... like dopes...
"Soooo..." Ragr manages to get out before Smillan knees him in the throat, grabs the umbrella and runs across the room twirling it as runes flash through the air. He stops as a glowing "I" lights up the room.
"Oh no, Smillan, not that!" yells Mort as he leaps across the room and tackles Smillan, knocking the umbrella from his hands. "Ragr! Help me!"
Smillan struggles to reach the umbrella where it lies on the floor just out of reach. "But I wantssss her," he gasps through the chokehold (doubtless learned at the hands of villainous Ullish assassins) Mort has on his throat.
"Dude!" Mort says in shock, "But she's evil!"
"Evil, sure, but she's superhot!" Smillan manages to get out as Ragr piles on, jumping up and down on his back chanting a halfling war-cry.
"Look man, I know you're totally into the MILF's and all, but what if she appears in her hag form?" says Mort, trying to use logic.
"Ewwww!" Say Smillan and Ragr as they suddenly stop pummeling each other.
Mort eases off slightly on the chokehold.
"I'm okay. Sorry guys. I'm okay," Smillan says, and Mort fully releases him, scooping up the umbrella. "Wait, I just had an idea to get Eileen back."
"Well, how are we going to do that? Somebody already used the 'E' ," say Mort, glaring meaningfully at Ragr.
"Trust me," says Smillan, taking back the umbrella. He opens it and twirls it until the rune "P" glows above them. "I hope this thing knows which one I mean," he says and closes his eyes and awkwardly dances around the room singing "P's are good, P's are good, P's are good, P's Prophet of Istus Good!"
Sits pat after having averted smillan's lustful idea and now crosses his fingers for a favorable magic result after the insanity of the last two umbrellas.
"I'd pray to Boccob right now if I thought he'd give a damn."
While he is at it he drops the charm on Ragr seeing him act even more halflingly under a spell than before.
"Uhhh.....groan......last thing I recall was Ragr beating up some Dragon Thingy Guy (new technical term soon to be adopted for 5th edition) in Greyhawk City......did I miss anything?"
Pulls out her purse from her belt of many pouches, brushes her hair, re-applies her make-up, touches up with some expensive perfume. Looks around...
"So where are we?"
"This place looks familiar.....Let's see, stone walls, cold, dim."
Whack, Whack, Whack!
Strikes staff on the floor and walls.
"Yep, I'd say were in a dungeon!"
"Let's see....could be White Plume Mountain?"
"Nope, no god aweful sulpher smell"
"Tomb of the Lizard King?"
"Nope, humidity level is 14.63% to low for Sunndi, can't be Tomb of the Lizard King"
"Perhaps the Forge of Fury!"
"Not likely! Wall construction is different, this place is much older."
"I know, Return to the Temple of Elemental Evil."
"Hmmm....don't see any cultists. Guess not."
"Well that leaves...The Ghost Tower of Inverness."
Reaches further into her belt of many pouches....pulls out a map of the dungeon. Paces the dimensions of the room. Peers at the map a bit closer. Let's see were in room 6 of the dungeon level. According to my notes there should be a sarcoughagus full of coins. Don't see any bugbears so they must have been dispatched already."
Looks at Ragr and sees all the coins he's collected.
"Apparently we already got the treasure. Excellent. So who's got the key? We need it for the next room over. This way....onward to room 14 fellow adventurers!" _________________ Eileen of Greyhawk, Prophet of Istus, Messenger of the Gods
Why didn't you think of that, mort? You're no longer my bestest friend in the world. I don't know what came over me.
So Prophet, what's being dead like? Did you rise above yourself and look down at your comrades' distress? Did you see the emotion pouring off me? How much coinage did it look like I'd picked up? 'Cause the view from above can be so deceptive.
Aw, let's not worry about all that now, room 14 awaits. I'll even listen at the door for you all; Ear Seekers went out with 1e so I don't mind doing that job now. Come companions of the Halflingist Halfling to ever set furry foot in mouth. This dungeon is ripe for the taking.
(Plants ear against door)
"Er....yeah! Can't hear anything in there." Steps aside for more puissant colleagues.
"Well let's see....OK, who has the key C'mon guys, this isn't funny, according to my map which I recall making the first time I came to this dungeon, we need four keys. They are round on one end and rectangular otherwise. See this indentation on the door? Notice there is no door handle? See, we collect four keys, attach them together, and thus the magic door opens. Ragr? You got the key right?"
"Look, it says it right here".
Eileen pulls out her dungeon map and starts reading the text aloud.
"The objective in exploring this level should be the collection of all 4 parts of the KEYS (as explained below) to enter room 15. One part lies somewhere in each of the four routes to the center of the room. Blah...blah...blah...blah...then it goes on to say: All routes eventually lead to the inpenetrable door, 14 and the central room beyond 15. Then it mentions something about not using certain spells because they are dangerous...WHATEVER! Yea, here it is: Each key is a blue-gray rectangular bar 6" long, 1 wide, and 1/4" thick, with a 2" diameter circle on one end. See I even drew a picture of the thing?
Shoves the dungeon map into Ragr's face.
"Yea then it says: It is smoother than glass, harder than steel, and is treated as a +3 hard metal for saving throw purposes. All four keys are necessary for entry into the center room. Then more blah...blah....blah...blah... Oooohhh, it says we earn +10 bonus points if we realize that four keys will be necessary for entry; +10 to the individual score of the player who first vocalizes this. Hey, wow, that would be me!
Pulls out score card and gives herself +10 bonus points.
"MAKE WAY, MAKE WAY! MAKE WAY! STEP ASIDE AMATEURS. THE KEY SHE'S SPEAKING OF IS RIGHT HERE."
A bugbear wearing the remains of a vampire Halloween costume pushes his way through, two others follow behind, snickering at the PCs.
"SEE, YOU INSERTS THE KEY RIGHT HERE, LIKE THIS."
"YEA, OK, WE MADE OUR POINT THAT BUGBEARS ARE SMARTER THAN ADVENTURERS, NOW TAKE THE KEY BACK AND LET'S TAKE A BREAK FOR LUNCH. I'VE GOT HALFING SPLEENS FOR LUNCH"
"UMMM HEY, ITS STUCK....KEY WON'T COME OUT!"
"OH WAY TO GO MONGREL MOUTH, NOW WE GOT TO GET THE OTHER KEYS BEFORE THESE YAHOOO'S DO THE SAME, WAY TO GO!"
"HOW WAS I SUPPOSE TO KNOW IT WOULD GET STUCK?!"
Pushing and shoving breaks out between the bugbears.
"DOES THIS MEAN WE GOTTA SKIP LUNCH?"
"YES, YOU IDIOT"!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Eileen hops on her magic carpet and takes off down the hallway, back the way they came.
"Come on guys...only three more keys!" _________________ Eileen of Greyhawk, Prophet of Istus, Messenger of the Gods
Ragr leaps onto the end of Eileen's carpet, clinging on for dear life by his fingertips while his little, but perfectly formed legs, dangle precariously.
"I believe I can fly,
I believe I can touch the sky....Ouch!!!!
Higher Godsdamnit, Prophet. The friction's singing my feet hair"
Eileen reaches down and pulls the struggling Halfling up, slaps a helmet over his head, tells him to fasten his seatbelt and throws the carpet into super sonic speed. Moments later they are out of the dungeon and in the courtyard again.
Ok, that was tower #1 (southeast corner), darn this is an easy dungeon. Ok, now which? _________________ Eileen of Greyhawk, Prophet of Istus, Messenger of the Gods
"Northwest" comes a stifled voice from within a helmet 5 sizes too big.
To quote Princess Bride..."As you Wish!"
AFTER A PERILOUS JOURNEY ACROSS THE COUTRYARD, OUR HEROES DESCEND DOWN THE STAIRS (OR MORE COMMONLY KNOWN AS AREA 4 OF THE DUNGEON LEVEL). THIS INCREDIBLY RISKY TREK THROUGH THE UNKNOWN UNDERGROUND REGION LED TO THE INFAMOUS ROOM #9 (FOR THOSE FOLLOWING ALONG IN THEIR MODULES). REACHING THE DOOR, EILEEN OPENS IT AND LOOKS WITHIN.
"Wow, a 30' square room, with a 10' high ceiling, with a door in the center of the opposite wall. In the center of the room we have a 3' pedestal with an 8' diameter crystal ball on top of it. There are engravings upon the pedestal and four moving shapes within the ball. I notice that the words are unfamiliar to me."
Intresting, the text of the module says it's an 8 foot crystal ball on a 3 foot pedestal. That is one huge ball. I hope there aren't any giants around. So what do with a giant crystal ball? Perhaps we need to unscamble the letters in order to activate some great magic. Let's see....
I....X....A....M
A....L....R....A....S....T....I....L
P....E....N....T....U....K....U
M....Y....R....G
AXMI (creak....swoosh, a giant ax begins to emerge from the door frame and it is headed directly for someone's....well....head)
Was momentarily studying the letters as he sees an axe come at his head. Turning to deflect it with his measely Bracers of Armor (If Wonder Woman can deflect bullets this should be a snap), he...
SCHLOP!
...inadvertantly loses a hand in the process! Still in shock he looks at the stump and wonders how many spells he knows with no somatic components.
"Excellent work Mortellan, only your quick thinking allowed you to evade the severity of the blow. I believe that weapon had a critical modifier of x 3 however. Ragr, does this mean that he lost 2 hands plus a leg? Ok, we need a ruling on this? Someone, whoever's running this game."
Tap...Tap...Tap..(strikes wall with staff, peers at it as if it's a one-way mirror.
"Hello, can we get a ruling on this.....does Mort have one hand left or did he lose two and a leg?"
"Hey Mort, I just want to play fair, ok! Besides you'll still have your most devastating weapon at hand....ok, maybe not at hand, but available anyway. What's that weapon you ask? Why your gift of gab " _________________ Eileen of Greyhawk, Prophet of Istus, Messenger of the Gods
"What's that you say? Do you need healing mortellan? Mind if I cast a Regeneration spell on you mortellan? No that's fine I'll be over here by the orb in case another trap goes off. "
Flicking through my arcane rulebooks I find that the critical hit from said trap does indeed only sever 1 hand. Although in addition, and by some bizarre quirk of fate, it also renders the recipient unable to recall any matters of a fiscal nature that were concluded within the past year. Crits, eh? Who'd 'ave thunk it?
Meantime.....
"For the love of all things decent (like having Druids in yer game, buffoons) will you stop tip-tapping and heal our poor, stricken Ullitte legal Baluchitherium (Ha! Bet that's not in your rulebooks. What's that? Sitting in a meeting going "Baluchi....what" are we? You heritage lacking dogs. Get some class.) and Regenerate his poor wounds before his mind starts to wander towards the Greyhawk Disability Benefits Agency like all those other mewling spawns of laziness from Tenh."
"And, I'll have a Calm Emotions while you're at it. I've come over all Ragey."
"For the love of all things decent (like having Druids in yer game, buffoons) will you stop tip-tapping and heal our poor, stricken Ullitte legal Baluchitherium (Ha! Bet that's not in your rulebooks. What's that? Sitting in a meeting going "Baluchi....what" are we? You heritage lacking dogs. Get some class.) and Regenerate his poor wounds before his mind starts to wander towards the Greyhawk Disability Benefits Agency like all those other mewling spawns of laziness from Tenh."
Ummm.....Fortuntely, I've studied Paleontology, so names like Baluchitherium won't throw me off. In fact my personal library consists of 3 types of books....role playing related (obviously), spiritual (primarly bible prophecy) and a combination of archeaology and paleontology. However, for those who were confused....
Flicking through my arcane rulebooks I find that the critical hit from said trap does indeed only sever 1 hand. Although in addition, and by some bizarre quirk of fate, it also renders the recipient unable to recall any matters of a fiscal nature that were concluded within the past year. Crits, eh? Who'd 'ave thunk it?
It's only one hand! The guy in Monte Python's Holy Grail was hurt a lot more than this and I refused him....so you think suddenly I should whip out a regeneration spell and zap him. If you recall, on page 5 of this thread, my first post of the page, the very last paragraph I stated... (and yes if you wish to scroll back you will see I am correct)
Quote:
Rarely have I ever seen an injury worthy of my healing. In fact, there was this knight once, he got in a bit of a scuffle with his king, and well to say the least the knight barely had a scratch on him, yet he still expected me to wait on him hand and foot and heal his little boo boo.
Besides, I'm only able to cast 6th level spells regenerate is 7th level. Can't you use one of those silly healing surge thingies Mort? I hear they are the neatest and coolest thing around these days!
Here, hold this Ragr.....(hands him a tape measure and stretches it across the pool of blood collecting on the floor). Hmmm.....sorry Mort, you come up a bit short on the blood spill for Istus to grant healing. However, since your such a good and loyal friend I shall put a band aid on it and kiss your little boo boo. How's that? Happy now? Can we stop whining about your little scratch and move one? For crying out loud, you had two hands, start using the other one for something other than.....
Ummm....I didn't actually prepare calm emotions. I guess I never saw you as the hyper type, after all it took how many posts to get off your tree and into the Tower of Germany is no longer translating and printing 4th edition. Yes, you heard it here.....
If Mort even thinks about a healing surge in my august 1e presence I shall thoroughly disown him, refuse to avail myself of his legal chicanery and not even contemplate settling his bill. Which technically, since that crit above, doesn't exist anyhow.
Smillan bonks his head on the low lintel into the room... and promptly expends a healing surge to bring himself back up to full hit points.
"Mort, what happened to your hand? Getting grabby again? I thought the priesthood of Istus was forbidden to use bladed weapons."
Turns to the Prophet, "Shouldn't you have thrown a net over him or something like that?"
Turns to Ragr, "And why are you grinding your teeth and turning red? Are you having second breakfast already? Something go down the wrong tube? Dude, you have to chew before you swallow."
"Well I had little to do with his "mortal wound" but if you insist."
Tosses a net over Morts head.
"Here hold this while we figure out what to do in this room, and for the sake of all that is right, don't touch anything Mort. Leave this to the professionals. Now back to our original dilemna. Four words, seemingly no apparent meaning. Let's see, I unscrambled the first word "cough MI" and that got us a gimpy elf. Should we continue to uncsramble the words, perhaps we need to get through four terrifying traps. What do you think?"
I....X....A....M
A....L....R....A....S....T....I....L
P....E....N....T....U....K....U
M....Y....R....G
Looks into the huge crystal ball.
"Kids don't try this at home!" _________________ Eileen of Greyhawk, Prophet of Istus, Messenger of the Gods
Glowers under the net and tourniquets his arm-hand-stump with a Rope of Entanglement. He then tries out one of the cryptic lines that he released before the incident.
"Sigh, do what you will Mort. Wrap that silly cord around your little boo boo. Just don't let it interfere with the magical band aid I put on it. If your patient, you'll find that your darn hand will come back by morning, not to mention it will have the power of MAGE HAND three times per day.
Turns to Ragr and Smillan
"I thought elves were suppose to be patient?"
As Mort speaks the enchanted words, a golden, highly decorated circular stairway slowly emerges from the thin air. The stairs rise upward and a red rope hangs from round rail posts, blocking off access. A lovely wooden sign is attached to the cord which reads:
"Congratulations you found the short cut to the Air Level"
Looking upwards to the top of the stairs, one can see that it ends in a rolling mist which limits your vision to a mere 10' within the vapory substance above.
"WOW Apparently Mort deceiphered the word and it takes us to the air level. Intresting. Never found this the first time I was here. So do you think it's another trap or a legitimate secret stairway? Should we go up, unscramble another word, or say the heck with this goofy room and move on, staying on this level? Choices.....choices!" _________________ Eileen of Greyhawk, Prophet of Istus, Messenger of the Gods
Ha! Well, if it's the hot air level we'd best call your father, Prophet. That always was his specialty.
While you lot are navel gazing I'm off up them stairs in search of adventure and booty. Not the kind you shake. The kind you spend.
(Errr...My copy of GToI rests at the bottom of a pile of gaming material 4 feet high. I really have no recollection of where we're at. And if I try and pull that Mod out it's liable to cause lethal damage to everything around it as it falls. Oh for a pit prop.)
"C'mon everybody," Ragr sings as he scampers up the stairs, bravely leading the line to face whatever fate cares to toss his way.
Ascending the stairway, the adventures enter into an area filled with mist which limits vision to 10 feet. The lighting is bright enough to allow sight without artificial ilumination. The ground is broken and rough. Suddenly, three prehistoric bird-like creatures dive bomb the characters. Each dropping vats of boiling oil upon the characters. As the boiling oil catches fire to their clothes, hair, and possession, the entire group realizes that this room is THE FINAL ROOM OF THE DUNGEON FOR THEM. THE TRAIL STOPS HERE AND THAT THEY ARE JUST ANOTHER STATISTIC IN THIS HORRIBLE DUNGEON SUFFERING BEYOND MEASURE, EACH ADVENTURER FINALLY SUCCOMBS TO DEATH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! _________________ Eileen of Greyhawk, Prophet of Istus, Messenger of the Gods
Last edited by EileenProphetofIstus on Sat Dec 06, 2008 1:15 pm; edited 1 time in total
This is a tournament encounter only. I don't beleive we are in a tournament are we? Would the bugbears also exploring this dungeon make it an official tournament module? The fact that Eileen got bonus points make it an official tournament module?
Unsure of the tournament module status, the prehistoric creatures fly down, brush off the oil, put out the fire. "Sorry about that, looks like we have to wait for an official ruling on this one. In the meantime, does anbody like tea?
When was the last time you sat down and drank tea with a pteranodan? _________________ Eileen of Greyhawk, Prophet of Istus, Messenger of the Gods
"This dungeon is treading into Castle Greyhawk type wackiness (just now notices). Tea! Must have tea, I'll have mine with lots of sugar, we elves have sweets running through our veins. Speaking of which..."
Ha! Well, if it's the hot air level we'd best call your father, Prophet. That always was his specialty.
AHEM....
And later he said:
Quote:
I'm off up them stairs in search of adventure and booty. Not the kind you shake. The kind you spend.
I'm sure you are off to collect coins, after all its the only kind of booty you can get.
And then Mort said
Quote:
:"This dungeon is treading into Castle Greyhawk type wackiness (just now notices). Tea! Must have tea, I'll have mine with lots of sugar, we elves have sweets running through our veins. Speaking of which..."
Looks at his bandaged stump.
"Hmm, it tickles."
So your are pleased then? _________________ Eileen of Greyhawk, Prophet of Istus, Messenger of the Gods
When was the last time you sat down and drank tea with a pteranodan?
"Third Waterday last Wealsun. A very nice cup of Landgraf Selintan. Speaking of which, I'll have mine white with two sugars please. How about biscuits? Got any Hobgobs? Mort, I believe there's a snake crawling up your leg."
Smillan sets down his teacup and saucer, reaches behind the small of his back and draws forth a well worn pair of kukri and winks.
"You know, we like you guys, your good folk adventurers. I think we are going to give you a pass on this one since the judges seem to be taking their time getting back to us. You appear to be weighted down by considerable treasure however, and we recognize that your Halfling has probably exceeded his encumbrance level. For some raw fish, we would be happy to "overlook" this rule violation. In addition, since you are all so well cultured, I do believe we will give you an inkling of what lies ahead."
Points that-a-way
"Over there is a sphinx with a particlarly mean disposition. He guards a rather good amount of coin and perhaps more importantly magical treasure. Claims there isn't an adventurer alive who is brave or strong enough to take it away from him.
You can also follow the stairs upward to the next level if you like. _________________ Eileen of Greyhawk, Prophet of Istus, Messenger of the Gods
Numismatist eh? Well, I've certainly been called worse things. Usually by close friends. Or family.
Just point me in the direction of that Sphinx. Such arrogance. Who the heck do they Sphinx they are. You want bravery? You want strength? Well let me tell you, you destined to stand in front of a triangular pile of decaying bandaged dudes whilst Japanese tourists take pictures of your slowly disintegrating ugliness. Person of annoying riddlance. Pervayor of tedious rhyme. Dealer of dull obfuscations. Pointless puzzler. Contemptous criminal of conundrums. We've got the strongest geezer to ever bestride this, or any other, material plane. He'll kick Samson's butt with both legs tied behind his back. He can wrestle a Titan to the ground with his nasel hair. Brave? Why he's braver than Brave Jack McBrave winner of Oerth's Mr Brave contest for the last 23 years running. Ladeez and gentl'men I give you.............
The mighty, the enormous (it sez 'ere), the totally fearless.........
Gently gives Smillan a shove forward. And here's a cheer for you as well.
(Quickly don's cheerleading outfit and pom poms)
Smillan....Smillan.....
He shall slay
The horrible sphinx of Yesterday
With sword in hand
Stained in red
With spit in his eye
The beast shall soon be dead
But if he should fail
to conquer the beast
If he should fail
And fall deceased
For lack of bold
Or lack of strength
Lack of cunning
Like a fox
At least he dies
In her Litter Box
Go Smillan!!!!
Psst... Ragr, Gimpy...I mean Mort's 2nd in line right? Should we have him get ready now or actually assume Smillan might survive? _________________ Eileen of Greyhawk, Prophet of Istus, Messenger of the Gods
Wiping the prodigious amounts of snake blood (and a small amount of elf blood) off his kukri, Smillan spins them both twice and sheathes them neatly as he walks up to the sphinx.
She address him sternly, "What goes on four legs in the morning, on two legs at noon, and... Hey! Yoohoo! My eyes are up here!"
"Hmmm? What?" says a slightly dazed looking Smillan. "Sorry, but maybe this whole riddle thing would be fairer if you put a turtleneck on. I mean how am I supposed to think of an answer when *ahem* well, Y'a du monde au balcon as the Keoish would say.
The sphinx crosses her arms... front legs.. uh, whatever over her ample bosom and tries again.
"What goes on four legs in the morning, on two legs at noon, and on three legs in the evening?"
"Easy," says Smillan, "That's my old granny!"
The sphinx looks at the pteranadons, who go in the corner and huddle, whispering. Finally the leader steps forward.
Wow, impressive. Checks module to see if bonus points can be awarded....flip, flip, flip, flip.
Maybe....it does imply, of coarse if we go that route then we need to rewind back to the boiling oil.
NOPE! No bonus points awarded.
Of coarse the module does say that all of the treasure belongs to Smillan. Smillan spots a pile of treasure. A sign sticks up out of a huge pile of coins which reads 4,000 silver, 3,000 gold. Sitting on a bookshelf is a glass vial. The container has a 43% chance of being a potion of healing, a 38% chance of being a vial of poison, a 6% chance that its empty, and a 13% chance that the top will never come off. A mace sits on the shelf as well and screams out at Smillan...
"Don't touch me you dirty damn primate. I have no idea where those hands have been. If you think for one moment that I'm going to tell you that I have great magical properties far beyond your mere comprehension, you are sadly mistaken."
The pteranodons look at their copy of the module...
"It says here that if it's a non-tournament module were suppose to attack once they defeat the sphinx."
"Ah, geez, I don't feel like it. I got a cold, the tea made me sleepy, and it's cold outside. Do we have to?"
"I don't know, I think the least we could do is offer. It would be rude of us not to offer to attack."
"Yea I suppose."
"So what you say brave adventurers, do you want us to attack or just let you take the stairs to the next level above?" _________________ Eileen of Greyhawk, Prophet of Istus, Messenger of the Gods
The Pteranodons said; It says here that if it's a non-tournament module were suppose to attack once they defeat the sphinx."
Ok. So here's what we do so that everybody is happy and no-one feels
like they've not done their bit. We'll take the stairs. You....Attack.
Each other.
Because the quote from the module doesn't actually state "attack the adventurers". So, strictly speaking.....go for it my extinct winged chums.
Ragr legs it upstairs.
"Excellent" they scream, doing their best Bill and Ted impressions. They quickly circle one another as they enter the Dance of Death!
Reaching the top of the stairs, the adventurers find themselves upon the next level up. The level is suddenly filled with light and the mist is gone. what you now see is an apparent jungle, a rain forest, a tropical climate if you will. The air is heavy on your lung (just the left one, the right one works just fine). A well groomed path leads the way through. The trees grow no more than 30 feet high as there clearly is a solid ceiling to this locale.
From the stairway you can hear lovely music reaching your ears. It's faded, but clearly coming from down the path. A bit further down the path, you see several monkeys scampering throughout the trees and along the ground. A sign is posted ahead which reads....
"Sorry. never seen a pteranadon Dance of Death before. I had to stay and watch. Ugh. Those things dance like a Suloise accountant."
He looks up and says, "Whoa. I've heard of this place. Isle of the Lord of the Dance. It's a demiplane which was created by Zagig Yragerne. Well not so much a demiplane as a conservatory."
Follows up the stairs lately as well, bloodied. still gimped and his free hand smoking from a recently fired Scorching Ray. Bumps into Smillan as he gawks around at the jungle environment and the strange monkeys.
"Excuse me. Dancing monkeys, huh, what's next?"
Then his eyes widen as he sees the other three go towards the music....
"Ragr, where'd you get that jester hat and lute? Eileen, I never realized you were so.. blonde, and had such a creepy smile. Sweet Pelor, do I really dance like that? Awful, but look at my hair!"
"Ragr, where'd you get that jester hat and lute? Eileen, I never realized you were so.. blonde, and had such a creepy smile. Sweet Pelor, do I really dance like that? Awful, but look at my hair!"
"That creepy smile comes from knowing how this adventure is going to end. Now then, any harm these monkeys could do to us will be defeated by the magical safety dance ritual, everyone gets a +4 bonus to their Will saving throw. Of coarse seeing Ragr dressed up as a fool applies a -6 penalty."
Just as Ragr's about to make his saving throw, a muscular fellow with a bad hair cut appears in the middle of the path. Arms at his side and decorated with gold adornments greater than a king, he begins to speak to Ragr.
Treasure this moment........I'm totally lost for words. Men Without Hats; why didn't I remember that first. Damn you're good, mort. Or sad beyond belief.
Ok. Time is too short to compose a witty rejoinder to such massive abuse heading in my direction so I'll just wish you all a Merry Christmas. But, know that I'm sitting by the fire plotting my revenge.
Gimme that Turkey. And that Port. Ooohhhhh. Mushroom stuffing.
Merry Needfest all! I try my best Ragr, Eileen is usually the one zinging out the clever video visual aides so I thought to give it a try. I was looking for something more about dancing hobbits but this was much much better. Inadvertantly I now have the song stuck in my head for the last day and a half.
Now on to the quest..."I get a -6 to my Will save? Great! Good thing Will is my strong saving throw. I even have a superior Save vs. Rods, Staves or Wands."
Notes Ragr's side job.
"Well looks like Ragr will soon have enough loot to cover my court fees!"
By the gods I've finally got some time to look at CF.
You know, call me pessimistic, call me a gloomy doomsayer (just don't call me if you need help) but, every time I watch that video I don't see happy villagers following our celebrated trio to a may dance, I see an angry mob brandishing pitchfork herding those Men Without Hats (MEN!!!! surely that's one man, a lunatic midget and a flouncy, bouncy, can you not stand still for one second woman, without hats) to an urgent appointment with the gibbet.
Hey, Eileen, get with the exorcism 'cos that song is beginning to haunt my every waking thought.
ps, Mort, I made a save vs Rods once and I'm no longer filled with a psychopathic desire to set fire to other Halfling's feet whenever I hear "Sailing".
Yawn....wakes up from her slumber. I sure hope breakfast is ready. Sniff....sniff...eeewww, what's that smell? It's not eggs and bacon.....sniff....sniff....ALRIGHT, WHO DIDN'T BATHE SINCE WE ENTERED THIS PLACE? _________________ Eileen of Greyhawk, Prophet of Istus, Messenger of the Gods
Yeah! Well I for one was far too polite as to enquire where that rancid odour was coming from. But, now we know, I don't think it would be fair to censure the poor, violent fellow. However, I think a small deduction from his treasure share would be in order; just to cover the purchase of some soap, or perfume and whatnot.
Anyhoo!! I've completely forgotten the point of this quest. Oh, hang on. It's all coming back to me now. Yep. That's it. We're out to restore some sense of honour and pride to the Eileen family after her father got involved in that scandal involving a kobold and 3 jars of pickles.
Yeah! Well I for one was far too polite as to enquire where that rancid odour was coming from. But, now we know, I don't think it would be fair to censure the poor, violent fellow. However, I think a small deduction from his treasure share would be in order; just to cover the purchase of some soap, or perfume and whatnot.
Anyhoo!! I've completely forgotten the point of this quest. Oh, hang on. It's all coming back to me now. Yep. That's it. We're out to restore some sense of honour and pride to the Eileen family after her father got involved in that scandal involving a kobold and 3 jars of pickles.
So, do we wack the monkeys (so to speak) or what?
I wouldn't worry about Smillan needing a bath, he will be getting one in a couple of levels up. Now as for the monkeys, I think you should spank them. As for my father and his involvment with a kobold and 3 jars of pickles, well you can't believe everything you read in the Greyhawk Grumbler. _________________ Eileen of Greyhawk, Prophet of Istus, Messenger of the Gods
As for my father and his involvment with a kobold and 3 jars of pickles, well you can't believe everything you read in the Greyhawk Grumbler.
WHAT?????? I Don't bloody believe it. I've always had faith in the press. You'll be telling me next that there is no Hobniz on the moon. And, that it's not made of stilton. Or, that mort isn't actually from Ull.
Crazy.
Okay, so now I'm off with my trusty small knife for peeling fruit and I'm going to carve up some monkey butt. Although I'm going to have to sneak up and catch them flat-footed because it may take some time dealing 1d2-2 damage in a fair fight.
Okay, (pant) I 've managed to injure one and (puff), drive the others off.
(Cough.....Cough......Splutter) I don't think they'll be wanting to mess with us anymore.
Why, thank you mort, thanks to my having taken the "powernap" feat at 3rd level (probably called a surge or something in 4e) I'm now fully recovered, ready, willing and able to scout for you my most loyal companions. Now, who's got the map and which way do we go?
(I'd be more decisive but you don't wanna know how deep C2 is buried in my collection of goodies)
Oh! I think it only right to warn you; I may have irked a servant of the dark god.
Yes, we are back. The quest must be completed, after all we are here because Ragr must repent of his misdoings addressed to him by the court of Greyhawk. Most fortunetly, we still have most of my pink and purple umbrellas should great harm come to us.
So now what my atoning halfling? You have hacked up the monkeys in tiny pieces, which I add wasn't totally neccessary, after all their dancing wasn't that bad.
Pulls out the map of the Ghost Tower of Inverness. Blows on real hard while opening it and a cloud of dust fills their faces.
Cough, Cough, Cough, "Ok where to next?" _________________ Eileen of Greyhawk, Prophet of Istus, Messenger of the Gods
HOLY C***. For the love of mushroom tartlets what on Oerth are you playing at, Prophet. I nearly had a heart attack ("technically not possible"- Ragr's conscience).
And, by the way, will you stop bandying around such mumbo jumbo as "repentance" and "atoning"; what the heck has my singing got to do with this anyway.
And as for the dancing monkeys; monkey see, monkey do, monkey get cut into two.
Where to next? I don't even know why I'm here, how the heck am I supposed to know? Up, let's go up. That's a plan right there. Follow me. This module is finished, it might us well give us the treasure haul right now. Come on, Prophet, stop going on about umbrellas, hitch up your skirts my bounteous piece of fluff and let's make something wish it had 4e hit points.
(Giving a Noble to a dancing monkey? Is that a euphemism for some perverted Istusian ritual???)
I have to inform you, Mystic Scholar - just what sort of subject does he study anyway? I mean, he studies something but it's clearly a mystery even to him. Talk about take a job because you get a lot of holidays.
"What have you discovered my knowledgable friend?"
"It's a mystery."
"Yes, that's why I asked you to find out for me."
Anyway, where was I?
Oh, yes. Before you start abusing my image rights you'll need to contact my lawyers at Shuttlecock And Wing Tip Curlytoes to negotiate some terms. I'll not have my good name suffer abuse.
And, by the way, will you stop bandying around such mumbo jumbo as "repentance" and "atoning"; what the heck has my singing got to do with this anyway.
And as for the dancing monkeys; monkey see, monkey do, monkey get cut into two.
Where to next? I don't even know why I'm here, how the heck am I supposed to know? Up, let's go up. That's a plan right there. Follow me. This module is finished, it might us well give us the treasure haul right now. Come on, Prophet, stop going on about umbrellas, hitch up your skirts my bounteous piece of fluff and let's make something wish it had 4e hit points.
I see you have got your facts mixed up my dimunitive friend. (puts hand on top of Ragr's head and pet's the little guy aggressively).
Sigh! fine I'll spell it out for you, you don't have to pout about being corrected the bazillionth time.
YOU ARE HERE ON A QUEST TO ATONE FOR THE SINS YOU HAD COMMITED AND WERE FOUND GUILTY BY THE GREYHAWK COURTS. Now is that too hard to remember.
As for the monkeys, you did not not cut the monkey's in two because of what they see or do, your god awful singing scared them so badly that they soiled themselves and lept towards your sword to commit suicide just so they wouldn't ....monkey see no evil, monkey hear no evil, monkey do no evil.
I hate to say this my good friend but you'd never make it on "Greyhawks Got Talent". You might gain some recognition on "Greyhawk's Sadly Sod Halflings though."
Allright then now that I got the dust off the dungeon map let's see where were at. Let's see, we are on the Earth Level and just completed encounter #21, that puts us pretty much in the middle of this level. Ok, to our right is encounter #22,which according to this is a medusa who attempts to lure us close enough to turn us to stone.
I say you go first cause you already have a heart of stone. Oh, and she sings as well as she is tending her rose garden. Perhaps if you close your eyes and ask for singing lessons you might actually get somewhere on Greyhawk's Got Talent. Oh, and the treasure apparently is in the flower bed. Why on Oerth, would she hide her treasure in the flowers? Why would she put the treasure in the flowers rather than use the magic items against us? This broad must be daffy. What edition is this module, "flip, flip, flip, flip." It's 1st edtion, ok, well dungeon designing was a new thing in those days so treasure was often found in the strangest of areas, plus in 1st edition the whole ecological concept didn't exist yet either, so who knows.
Oh, and then the map shows a stairwell going up to....hmmm map smudges, (rub, rub, rub), it says the "Hire Level" well that makes sense I suppose considering the steps go up.
Ok, go show this medusa how much of a ladies man, I mean ladies ling, or is it ladies half, oh whatever, just go say hi to her, try and redeem this one first, the blood from the monkeys is still dripping from your blade.
Gives Ragr a big push forward. _________________ Eileen of Greyhawk, Prophet of Istus, Messenger of the Gods
Two voices can be heard; a male voice of exquisite, seductive timbre and a soaring female counterpoint;
Things have come to a pretty pass
Our romance is growing flat,
For you like this and the other
While I go for this and that,
Goodness knows what the end will be
Oh I don't know where I'm at
It looks as if we two will never be one
Something must be done:
You say either and I say either, You say neither and I say neither
Either, either Neither, neither, Let's call the whole thing off.
You like potato and I like potahto, You like tomato and I like tomahto
Potato, potahto, Tomato, tomahto, Let's call the whole thing off
But oh, if we call the whole thing off Then we must part
And oh, if we ever part, then that might break my heart
So if you like pyjamas and I like pyjahmas, I'll wear pyjamas and give up
pyajahmas
For we know we need each other so we , Better call the whole off off
Let's call the whole thing off.
You say laughter and I say larfter, You say after and I say arfter
Laughter, larfter after arfter, Let's call the whole thing off,
You like vanilla and I like vanella, You saspiralla, and I saspirella
Vanilla vanella chocolate strawberry, Let's call the whole thing off
But oh if we call the whole thing of then we must part
And oh, if we ever part, then that might break my heart
So if you go for oysters and I go for ersters, I'll order oysters and cancel
the ersters
For we know we need each other so we, Better call the calling off off,
Let's call the whole thing off.
I say father, and you say pater, I saw mother and you say mater
Pater, mater Uncle, auntie, let's call the whole thing off.
I like bananas and you like banahnahs, I say Havana and I get Havahnah
Bananas, banahnahs Havana, Havahnah, Go your way, I'll go mine
So if I go for scallops and you go for lobsters, So all right no contest we'll
order lobseter
For we know we need each other so we, Better call the calling off off,
Let's call the whole thing off.
This is followed by the crash and the scattering of a thousand pieces of broken stone. Could Ragr's heart have been shattered by this beautiful exchange.
THEN;
Every rose has it's thorrrrrrrrrrnnnnnnnn
Just like ev'ry night has its dawwwwwwnnnnnnnn
Just like ev'ry Hobniz sang's a pilfering song.
Oh, hey, Eileen. (REMOVES MIRROR SHADES)
Found these on some alternate reality blast some DM threw at me once. I wondered when they'd come in handy. The treasure was in them thorns, there wasn't much, truth be told . But I recovered what I could (Hands the Prophet a copper piece).
Poor Medusa, we could have made a fortune on the chicken in a basket circuit.
I thought the idea was to convert them from evil to neutral, particularly Lawful Neutral? Did you even make an attempt to convert them?
I suppose now your going to have to put a gold piece in each of their eyes to pay the ferryman so they can get a ride home. Spend, Spend, Spend, Spend, that is all you do Ragr. I don't normally have a problem with that, its just that you never spend it on me!
Immoral actions are corrupting your wee little soul my friend.
You know, if you didn't hack them up you could have made lawn ornaments out of them.
Once you finish with giving them their tokens, I guess we can go up the stairs to the Hire Level. _________________ Eileen of Greyhawk, Prophet of Istus, Messenger of the Gods
"Ah yes, let me see what is in store for us at the top of the stairs. Let's see, yep iron wrought stairway, goes up for about 50 feet.
At the top there are two pathways, one going to the right, the other to our left. The main floor area appears to be a sea of fire, might be a good illusion though. Smells bad as well, to much smoke and sulpher. Good touch to an illusion Ragr, don't you think. There's a really big guy standing on the opposite side, looks like another stairway behind him. Wow, he's huge, maybe that's why its called the Hire Level. The right and left sides are a stadium filled with people. Oh, there's Daddy, I see him in the stands!!!! Hi Daddy....how are you, I'm doing fine.....
Moments later just as Ragr makes it to the top a booming deep voice can be heard from the giant.
"Fe, Fi Fo, Fum I smell the odors of Halfling blood."
What's this, even more....Fie, Fi, Fo, Fum I also smell the perfume of a blonde looking one."
Looking down right in front of us is a wooden round stick about 3' long. Its top is wider than its handle. There is also a large leather glove lying on the floor.
The giant wears a similar large leather glove on one hand and picks up a stone with the other, tosses it up and down in his hand. He wears on odd looking shirt that says "Giants" on it.
A strange man standing next to us, wearing a backwards cap on his head and a oddly shaped large black foamy breast plate over his torso turns to us and says...
"Allright, were at the bottom of the ninth, 2 two outs, tied score. You better hit the rock or he'll eat you for lunch. Knock the stone hard , run real fast to your right, and stay on the path and he'll let you pass. If he catches it or throws it at you and hits, well you lose...and its the pits.
Any questions? Good, PLAY BALL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
Ragr leaps onto Eileen's shoulders, bat in hand and screams.....
"Hit me big daddy".
The fiery big boy spins, stands on one leg like a maniacal, flaming Ian Anderson and looses the boulder with some serious sidespin. Ragr adjusts his body position slightly and swings the bat (it was a bat, right?) in a ferocious arc towards the oncoming boulder. The crowd holds its breath This is either going to be the home run of creation or....or....it's not really.
As the boulder and bat are about to meet in a clash of the titans, Ragr shifts to the right, placing his left foot sqaurely on Eileen's head and releases the bat which spins, end over end, towards the unfortunate pitcher. The boulder sails harmlessly past said Eileen/Ragr pantomime ball-player thingy and the bat strikes the giant squarely between the eyes. Birds suddenly appear and circle the incapacitated oaf and Ragr strikes a pose upon Eileen's shoulders and milks the applause of the crowd who are going wild, chanting "Ragr, Ragr, Ragr, all is forgiven".
Ragr takes a final bow and then notices that what he had originally thought were cartoon birds are actually Firebats. And they are no longer circling the fallen giant. He leaps off the Prophet's shoulders and runs for the exit. He takes the time for one more bow to the crowd.
"Thank you, thank you so much," he hollers to the adoring masses.
"Get the bleep off of me. What do I look like a doormat? Don't answer that!"
"Oh now you've really done it, you have unleashed the very creatures of hell itself, all just so you could play a silly boy's game."
"Let's see....I'll cast Protection From Evil and ummm....Duck! they are dive bombing....and they didn't even wait for initiative. These things must be chaotic evil."
Turns and looks for Ragr...........see's him flee back down the stairs exit....
"Sigh, and he's chaotic cowardly."
The fire bats whiz past Eileen and follow Ragr.
"Hmmm.....might as well coninue."
Wandering around the path and to the center of the room, Eileen is suddenly sucked upwards by an anti-gravirty field and reaches the ceiling. Oddly enough, she passes through a magic portal and lands in a pool of water.
"Skinny Dipping Time!" as she tears her clothes off. _________________ Eileen of Greyhawk, Prophet of Istus, Messenger of the Gods
Eileen surfaces (I'm assuming that the freakin' Dinicthys has proven no match for your sweet converting charms) and wades up the shore like Ursula Andress (or, in this case, Ursula Undressed). She hears a voice.
"Eileen, my dear, I would never have thought you so French"
Ragr is lounging in a deck chair on the island, holding a Pina Colada and clad only in a hula skirt. His mirror shades reflect back Eileen's embarassment.
"As for the dinicthys, well we had to kill them last time we were here. Clearly the module your going by is outdated my dear friend. So rather than gawking are you going to offer me a refreshing drink and towel off my back?
At least this place isn't has crowded as the Greyhawk Bathhouse.
I have spoken to Istus and I have some good news. I've also got some great news. Which would you like first?"
And Yes, I'm a big James Bond fan as well. _________________ Eileen of Greyhawk, Prophet of Istus, Messenger of the Gods
Oooooo, shiny gem. Oh, hang on........what the.....
There's something(s) in there.
"That my friend is the object of our quest. Let's see, rooms abut 50' high and 120' across, large gem floating in the middle, about 4' off the ground. Look, the gem is starting to glow, quickly, shield your eyes."
A incredibly powerful white light flashes left of us, blinding for but a moment. As the spots before our eyes begin to disapate, it appears to start glowing once again.
There appears to be some etching into the gemstone which you are unable to read from your current position.
I say we do Rock, Paper, Scissors to see who's foolish enough to grab the gemstone. Since My Wisdom is higher than yours I think I should get a redo in case I lose, how's that sound?" _________________ Eileen of Greyhawk, Prophet of Istus, Messenger of the Gods
Do I look like I've got PALADIN tattooed on my forehead?
Cos I'm bound to want to play a game of chance against the chosen of fate ain't I?
Okay, let's do it.
One......Two........
Ragr charges off leaving an astounded Eileen to make a fist.
There is a mighty clamour but Eileen cannot see due to the brightness. A smash, a crash and a loud (albeit manly) howling of pain (in a brave way, not that namby pamby howling you get from some characters). A fierce smashing noise echoes around the chamber.
A bright light hoves into Eileen's view. The silhouette of a figure emerges from the brightness. Eileen can make out rippling biceps and a set of dancing, rock-solid pecs; blood drips from a myriad of wounds that criss-cross the oiled, bronzed muscles of the figure. Music breaks out;
Dum/ dum, dum, dum/ dum, dum, dum,/dum dum, DAH
Words rise unbidden to the Prophet's lips.
Face to face, out in the heat
Hangin' tough, stayin' hungry
They stack the odds 'til we take to the street
For we kill with the skill to survive
Risin' up, straight to the top
Have the guts, got the glory
Went the distance, now I'm not gonna stop
Just a Hobniz and his will to survive
It's the eye of the ragr, it's the cream of the fight
Risin' up to the challenge of our rival
And the last known survivor stalks his prey in the night
And he's watchin' us all in the eye of the ragr
The words die on Eileen's lips as Ragr emerges from the light holding a large white gem. Granted, there are still a myriad number of small wounds. "Got any healing sweet-cheeks?"
The image of her fantasy man evaporates.
Click, click.
"Prophet, quit yer dreaming and work that Amulet Of Recall, babe.
WHAT? What do you mean that's just in the tournament version?
Eileen graps the childlike hand of Ragr, activates the pink and purple umbrella, and in Mary Poppins fashion, flies upward until they nearly reach the ceiling. At that point they disappear.
Below you as you descend, you see the fair City of Greyhawk. Tens of thousands of citizens look up into the sky and see us floating downward. They proclaim today as offical Greyhawk holiday. _________________ Eileen of Greyhawk, Prophet of Istus, Messenger of the Gods
Oh, yes. Incredibly smart move. Returning to Greyhawk hanging off a pink/purple umbrella in front of several thousand citizens with a POCKET FULL OF ARTIFACT. That won't get noticed by various mages, sages, priests and power groups will it? All I need is a visit from from your friendly local fanatic from The Silent Ones. Or The Seekers. Or The New Seekers. Or, The New Seekers featuring one original member on crumhorn.
How for the love of Norebo are we going to pawn the damn thing on the quiet now?
Hey, Eileen, look; I can juggle the Soul Gem as we descend.
Seiously, if you drop that thing, what's the worse that could happen? Most of the good folk of Greyhawk are peasants and I'm sure they would just trade it in to pay their taxes. Only a small percentage of the populace is evil. What are the odds?
Hey look, it's the Citadel, my Daddy works there.....Hi Daddy!
By the way, do you have any clue what we were suppose to do with that gem. All I recall is you being quested and me going along with it just so you wouldn't stub a toe.
Hey, I see 4th edtion shoes in your future.....nice ones to, made of alligator skin.
You know, the first time I tried to get that gem, it took my soul. Least this time we don't have to go get that from Lord Othwaite, nasty ghost, never brushes his teeth, has a deity complex between Heironeous and Hextor....never could make up his mind.
Oh, and look, there's Ariel, our Paladin and Cherron, our wizard, yea, her daddy is Acererak, it's a long story. Talk about a disfunctional family. I hear they are in therapy now. _________________ Eileen of Greyhawk, Prophet of Istus, Messenger of the Gods
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