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@ -18,6 +18,7 @@ src/epistolary/00021.md
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src/epistolary/00022.md
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src/epistolary/00022.md
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src/epistolary/00023.md
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src/epistolary/00023.md
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src/epistolary/00024.md
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src/epistolary/00024.md
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src/epistolary/00025.md
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src/bestiary/index.md
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src/bestiary/index.md
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src/bestiary/aur.md
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src/bestiary/aur.md
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src/bestiary/blahoblin.md
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src/bestiary/blahoblin.md
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@ -7,6 +7,7 @@ public: yes
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<dt>Hemogoblin</dt>
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<dt>Hemogoblin</dt>
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: A little bloody goblinoid, flayed of its flesh and getting blood absolutely EVERYWHERE. Oh god, don't let it touch that! Ew.
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: A little bloody goblinoid, flayed of its flesh and getting blood absolutely EVERYWHERE. Oh god, don't let it touch that! Ew.
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: Dispite everything, disgustingly cute.
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: Sole manufacturers of an extremely high quality synthetic blood, and thus pretty much single-handedly support the "vegetarian" vampire community.
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: Sole manufacturers of an extremely high quality synthetic blood, and thus pretty much single-handedly support the "vegetarian" vampire community.
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: <details></details>
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: <details></details>
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@ -0,0 +1,175 @@
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---
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title: 00025
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created: Sun, 23 Oct 2022 09:41:16 -0600
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updated: Sun, 23 Oct 2022 09:41:16 -0600
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public: yes
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syndicated: yes
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---
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### 00025 {#00025}
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> **Corraidhin** Shit, shit shit shit shit shit. This is NOT good.
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> Damn it Y'aml what was that? It wasn't even slightly stealthy
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>
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> **Y'aml** STAB, delightful blood. Stab the flesh, tear the skin,
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> pierce the fruit that gives us strength. Drink the blood, consume
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> their soul. More more more more more more more more more
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>
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> **Corraidhin (internal thought)** Ugh my head, it's heavy, hurts.
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> Misty and red? I can't see straight, it's hard to think straight.
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> That blasted sword, I thought for a moment it, no, not think, it
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> definitely did move on its own. It became lighter and heavier.
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> Pulling against it and it just weighs itself down. This little
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> magical bauble is definitely cursed..
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>
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> **Y'aml** CURSED?! Rude Hardy Bear. All we did was stab that evil
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> hobbit. And it's getting away! Stab him again, taste his blood! The
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> tavern gaurds are closing in, they look like they're trying to get
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> rid of us, EVIL. Them trying to stop us from getting that evil
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> hobbit is EVIL, STAB THEM.
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>
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> Corraidhin raises his free hand to his head as though holding a
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> wound and he groans in dismay as the dagger rises again. It travels
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> swiftly down towards Blavin, missing as he slithers of the booth.
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> And again, digging deep into the wooden seat.
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>
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> **Y'aml** Disgusting wood, stab the flesh! Stab the Hobbit Hardy
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> Bear!
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>
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> But Blavin was inching further out of reach towards the gaurds. In
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> desperation the dagger begins swinging side to side, making furtive
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> slashing moves in the direction of the guards. The party is safely
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> behind Corraidhin, but innocent patrons and the guards are directly
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> in their sights.
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>
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> Corraidhin grabs his other hand and pulls hard, steadying the
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> swinging. STOP! I command you you blasted toothpick, STOP. You've
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> had your fun, now STOP. These people are innocent, this man has
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> done us no harm despite his potential "evils", this is entirely
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> uncalled for!
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>
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> **Y'aml** NO!!! EVIL. STAB. EVIL. STAB. EVIL. STAB.
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>
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> The dull voice of the magical dagger rises, angry, insistent. It
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> consumes the last of Corraidhin's mental strength. All he hears is
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> EVIL. STAB. EVIL. STAB. Yet he clings to his spare arm trying
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> desparately to resist. At this point the party and the tavern has
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> cleared a wide path around the sysorceor as he struggles with
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> himself, mumbling, sometimes yelling. EVIL. STAB. EVIL. STAB. NO WE
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> WILL NOT. EVIL. INNOCENT. STAB BLOOD DRINK. EVIL. EVIL EVIL EVIL
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> STAB IT. MAKE IT BLEED. I WILL NO.. STAB IT. STAB HIM.
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>
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> The voice seems to change, it dies down. Not yelling, but
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> commanding. Firm, calm, sane.
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>
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> Stab them, stab them, make them bleed. Drink the blood, consume the
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> soul, free them from their evil being. Stab them, stab them... over
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> and over and over, as the sysorceor approaches Blavin and the
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> guards with a malevolent look in his ruby red eyes.
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~
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> Inky moves to stand next to Blavin and the nightclub bouncers.
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> Tossing a tiny "see-eye" container they had borrowed from Master
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> Corraidhín at him, Inky looks the sysorceor in the eye and says,
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> "You are not your sword."
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>
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> Watching the wizard's expression, Inky continues, more quietly, "If
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> Master Corraidhín truly wishes to end the hobbit, a mere imp would
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> not stop him, but likewise, whatever he sets his mind to do, a
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> dagger cannot stop him either."
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~
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> Jarrod steps gently into the fray and activates his FASCINATING
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> CHARM, attempting to draw all eyes to him. He carefully avoids the
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> wild swinging of the once-sword-now-dagger.
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>
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> "I think," he rumbles gently, "we could all use a drink over the
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> other end of the room. I'm buying, and I'll spin you all a tale of
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> wonder! A tale of a wanderer, and of a war hammer, and the first of
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> their wild battles together!"
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>
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> Leaning over to whisper urgently in Corraidhín's ear: "Friend, I do
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> not know what occurs here, but pull yourself together. We can later
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> sate our blood lust in more appropriate places!" Jarrod lends a sly
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> wink in the sysorcerer's direction, one that promises adventure
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> later.
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The tavern guards tense, but pause their advance, as the crazed
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mage's friends position themselves protectively around him and try to
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placate him. They wouldn't want to engage a master sysorcerer on the
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best of days, much less one with some kind of malevolent blood dagger
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in the middle of a psychotic break. If his compatriots can handle him
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without them having to interfere, all the better.
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The duck waddles up next to Inky and quacks softly, pleadingly at
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Corraidhin. Only the Ornithologer in the corner can understand its
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words when it says, "As your marketing manager I must strongly advise
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against this course of action!"
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Seated in the corner next to the Ornithologer is a shaggy groll
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dressed in a dusty, faded poncho and a wide brimmed hat; and a
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greasy, matted gnu, dressed in black ceremonial robes.
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The groll discreetly draws its poncho back revealing a bandoleer of
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wands and draws a cracklestick and points it at the sysorcer. The
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wand starts to hum and glow as it charges up for a blast.
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The gnu slaps the groll's wrist, and immediately launches into a
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tirade against the cracklestick's manufacturer's proprietary spell
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slotting algorithm, and honestly how can you possibly justify your
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choices when there are open source alternatives available?
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The groll rolls its eyes, obviously having been on the receiving end
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of this particular lecture before, and tries to slap away the gnu's
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grasping hands. The ensuing scuffle threatens to turn this powder keg
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of a situation into a full blown conflagration until Jarrod actives
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his FASCINATING CHARM, commanding the attention of the entire room.
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The gnu freezes with its hands around the groll's throat. The groll
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halts with fists full of the gnu's beard. A grub smoking a hookah
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pauses with the mouthpiece raised to its pursed lips. A distracted
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waitress on roller skates crashes right into the bar.
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> As though in a trance Corraidhin continues to yell STAB. THEM.
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> STAB. IT. cutting wildly at the air before him. As Inky whispers to
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> him his expression changes, first a grimace, then a whimper. As
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> Jarrod leads the patrons away from the sysorceor he begins to
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> tremble and cower away from himself, away from everyone. His ruby
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> red eyes dart back and forth between his friends and the patrons,
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> like a frightened animal searching for an escape. He pulls the
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> dagger into himself, as though sheilding it from his surroundings.
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>
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> What.. what's going on, he mutters feebly to himself. Everything is
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> a blurr. Uncertain of where he is or what's going on, Corraidhin
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> thumbs the dagger, caressing the large ruby embedded in the hilt.
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> Y'aml, you're still here, good good, the syscoreor croons.
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>
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> Standing up straight his eyes lock with Jarrod as the Bard glances
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> over his shoulder, momentarily distracted from his oration, worried
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> about his companion.
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>
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> I.. ugh, Corraidhin grabs his head as though in pain, and collapses
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> to the floor.
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Corraidhin hits the floor and the dagger, now bereft of the well of
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emotion it had been drawing from, grows still. The eye closes and it
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seems to sigh happily. "Good job, Hardy Bear. You have spilled the
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blood of evil." And it sleeps, inert, lifeless.
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Corraidhin is on the ground cradling the dagger.
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Most of the patrons are still fascinated by Jarrod.
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Blavin is squirming around on the floor gibbering about reassigning
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your case.
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The duck has found a toppled plate of corn chips and is happily
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snacking away.
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You feel like your welcome at Lucy's Basement has been, for the
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moment, overstayed.
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WHAT DO YOU DO
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[www](https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-10/msg00015.html)
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144
www/index.html
144
www/index.html
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@ -242,6 +242,7 @@ of the Were-Hare</a></li>
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<li><a href="#00022" id="toc-00022">00022</a></li>
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<li><a href="#00022" id="toc-00022">00022</a></li>
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<li><a href="#00023" id="toc-00023">00023</a></li>
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<li><a href="#00023" id="toc-00023">00023</a></li>
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<li><a href="#00024" id="toc-00024">00024</a></li>
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<li><a href="#00024" id="toc-00024">00024</a></li>
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<li><a href="#00025" id="toc-00025">00025</a></li>
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</ul></li>
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</ul></li>
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<li><a href="#bestiary" id="toc-bestiary">Bestiary</a></li>
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<li><a href="#bestiary" id="toc-bestiary">Bestiary</a></li>
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<li><a href="#geography" id="toc-geography">Geography</a></li>
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<li><a href="#geography" id="toc-geography">Geography</a></li>
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@ -251,7 +252,7 @@ of the Were-Hare</a></li>
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</ul>
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</ul>
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</nav>
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</nav>
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<h2 id="about">About</h2>
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<h2 id="about">About</h2>
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<p>Total length: 20271 words / 86 minutes</p>
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<p>Total length: 21552 words / 92 minutes</p>
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<p>This is a game that me and the kids in the basement are playing over
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<p>This is a game that me and the kids in the basement are playing over
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email.</p>
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email.</p>
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<p><a
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<p><a
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@ -2489,6 +2490,144 @@ away.</p>
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<p>WHAT DO YOU DO</p>
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<p>WHAT DO YOU DO</p>
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<p><a
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<p><a
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href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-10/msg00010.html">www</a></p>
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href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-10/msg00010.html">www</a></p>
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<h3 id="00025">00025</h3>
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<blockquote>
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<p><strong>Corraidhin</strong> Shit, shit shit shit shit shit. This is
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NOT good. Damn it Y’aml what was that? It wasn’t even slightly
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stealthy</p>
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<p><strong>Y’aml</strong> STAB, delightful blood. Stab the flesh, tear
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the skin, pierce the fruit that gives us strength. Drink the blood,
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consume their soul. More more more more more more more more more</p>
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<p><strong>Corraidhin (internal thought)</strong> Ugh my head, it’s
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heavy, hurts. Misty and red? I can’t see straight, it’s hard to think
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straight. That blasted sword, I thought for a moment it, no, not think,
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it definitely did move on its own. It became lighter and heavier.
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Pulling against it and it just weighs itself down. This little magical
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bauble is definitely cursed..</p>
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<p><strong>Y’aml</strong> CURSED?! Rude Hardy Bear. All we did was stab
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that evil hobbit. And it’s getting away! Stab him again, taste his
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blood! The tavern gaurds are closing in, they look like they’re trying
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to get rid of us, EVIL. Them trying to stop us from getting that evil
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hobbit is EVIL, STAB THEM.</p>
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<p>Corraidhin raises his free hand to his head as though holding a wound
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and he groans in dismay as the dagger rises again. It travels swiftly
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down towards Blavin, missing as he slithers of the booth. And again,
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digging deep into the wooden seat.</p>
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<p><strong>Y’aml</strong> Disgusting wood, stab the flesh! Stab the
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Hobbit Hardy Bear!</p>
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<p>But Blavin was inching further out of reach towards the gaurds. In
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desperation the dagger begins swinging side to side, making furtive
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slashing moves in the direction of the guards. The party is safely
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behind Corraidhin, but innocent patrons and the guards are directly in
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their sights.</p>
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<p>Corraidhin grabs his other hand and pulls hard, steadying the
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swinging. STOP! I command you you blasted toothpick, STOP. You’ve had
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your fun, now STOP. These people are innocent, this man has done us no
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harm despite his potential “evils”, this is entirely uncalled for!</p>
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<p><strong>Y’aml</strong> NO!!! EVIL. STAB. EVIL. STAB. EVIL. STAB.</p>
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<p>The dull voice of the magical dagger rises, angry, insistent. It
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consumes the last of Corraidhin’s mental strength. All he hears is EVIL.
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STAB. EVIL. STAB. Yet he clings to his spare arm trying desparately to
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resist. At this point the party and the tavern has cleared a wide path
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around the sysorceor as he struggles with himself, mumbling, sometimes
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yelling. EVIL. STAB. EVIL. STAB. NO WE WILL NOT. EVIL. INNOCENT. STAB
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BLOOD DRINK. EVIL. EVIL EVIL EVIL STAB IT. MAKE IT BLEED. I WILL NO..
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STAB IT. STAB HIM.</p>
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<p>The voice seems to change, it dies down. Not yelling, but commanding.
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Firm, calm, sane.</p>
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<p>Stab them, stab them, make them bleed. Drink the blood, consume the
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soul, free them from their evil being. Stab them, stab them… over and
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over and over, as the sysorceor approaches Blavin and the guards with a
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malevolent look in his ruby red eyes.</p>
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</blockquote>
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<p>~</p>
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<blockquote>
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<p>Inky moves to stand next to Blavin and the nightclub bouncers.
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Tossing a tiny “see-eye” container they had borrowed from Master
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Corraidhín at him, Inky looks the sysorceor in the eye and says, “You
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are not your sword.”</p>
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<p>Watching the wizard’s expression, Inky continues, more quietly, “If
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Master Corraidhín truly wishes to end the hobbit, a mere imp would not
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stop him, but likewise, whatever he sets his mind to do, a dagger cannot
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stop him either.”</p>
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</blockquote>
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<p>~</p>
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<blockquote>
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<p>Jarrod steps gently into the fray and activates his FASCINATING
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CHARM, attempting to draw all eyes to him. He carefully avoids the wild
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swinging of the once-sword-now-dagger.</p>
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<p>“I think,” he rumbles gently, “we could all use a drink over the
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other end of the room. I’m buying, and I’ll spin you all a tale of
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wonder! A tale of a wanderer, and of a war hammer, and the first of
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their wild battles together!”</p>
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<p>Leaning over to whisper urgently in Corraidhín’s ear: “Friend, I do
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not know what occurs here, but pull yourself together. We can later sate
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our blood lust in more appropriate places!” Jarrod lends a sly wink in
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the sysorcerer’s direction, one that promises adventure later.</p>
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</blockquote>
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<p>The tavern guards tense, but pause their advance, as the crazed
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mage’s friends position themselves protectively around him and try to
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placate him. They wouldn’t want to engage a master sysorcerer on the
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best of days, much less one with some kind of malevolent blood dagger in
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the middle of a psychotic break. If his compatriots can handle him
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without them having to interfere, all the better.</p>
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<p>The duck waddles up next to Inky and quacks softly, pleadingly at
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Corraidhin. Only the Ornithologer in the corner can understand its words
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|
when it says, “As your marketing manager I must strongly advise against
|
||||||
|
this course of action!”</p>
|
||||||
|
<p>Seated in the corner next to the Ornithologer is a shaggy groll
|
||||||
|
dressed in a dusty, faded poncho and a wide brimmed hat; and a greasy,
|
||||||
|
matted gnu, dressed in black ceremonial robes.</p>
|
||||||
|
<p>The groll discreetly draws its poncho back revealing a bandoleer of
|
||||||
|
wands and draws a cracklestick and points it at the sysorcer. The wand
|
||||||
|
starts to hum and glow as it charges up for a blast.</p>
|
||||||
|
<p>The gnu slaps the groll’s wrist, and immediately launches into a
|
||||||
|
tirade against the cracklestick’s manufacturer’s proprietary spell
|
||||||
|
slotting algorithm, and honestly how can you possibly justify your
|
||||||
|
choices when there are open source alternatives available?</p>
|
||||||
|
<p>The groll rolls its eyes, obviously having been on the receiving end
|
||||||
|
of this particular lecture before, and tries to slap away the gnu’s
|
||||||
|
grasping hands. The ensuing scuffle threatens to turn this powder keg of
|
||||||
|
a situation into a full blown conflagration until Jarrod actives his
|
||||||
|
FASCINATING CHARM, commanding the attention of the entire room.</p>
|
||||||
|
<p>The gnu freezes with its hands around the groll’s throat. The groll
|
||||||
|
halts with fists full of the gnu’s beard. A grub smoking a hookah pauses
|
||||||
|
with the mouthpiece raised to its pursed lips. A distracted waitress on
|
||||||
|
roller skates crashes right into the bar.</p>
|
||||||
|
<blockquote>
|
||||||
|
<p>As though in a trance Corraidhin continues to yell STAB. THEM. STAB.
|
||||||
|
IT. cutting wildly at the air before him. As Inky whispers to him his
|
||||||
|
expression changes, first a grimace, then a whimper. As Jarrod leads the
|
||||||
|
patrons away from the sysorceor he begins to tremble and cower away from
|
||||||
|
himself, away from everyone. His ruby red eyes dart back and forth
|
||||||
|
between his friends and the patrons, like a frightened animal searching
|
||||||
|
for an escape. He pulls the dagger into himself, as though sheilding it
|
||||||
|
from his surroundings.</p>
|
||||||
|
<p>What.. what’s going on, he mutters feebly to himself. Everything is a
|
||||||
|
blurr. Uncertain of where he is or what’s going on, Corraidhin thumbs
|
||||||
|
the dagger, caressing the large ruby embedded in the hilt. Y’aml, you’re
|
||||||
|
still here, good good, the syscoreor croons.</p>
|
||||||
|
<p>Standing up straight his eyes lock with Jarrod as the Bard glances
|
||||||
|
over his shoulder, momentarily distracted from his oration, worried
|
||||||
|
about his companion.</p>
|
||||||
|
<p>I.. ugh, Corraidhin grabs his head as though in pain, and collapses
|
||||||
|
to the floor.</p>
|
||||||
|
</blockquote>
|
||||||
|
<p>Corraidhin hits the floor and the dagger, now bereft of the well of
|
||||||
|
emotion it had been drawing from, grows still. The eye closes and it
|
||||||
|
seems to sigh happily. “Good job, Hardy Bear. You have spilled the blood
|
||||||
|
of evil.” And it sleeps, inert, lifeless.</p>
|
||||||
|
<p>Corraidhin is on the ground cradling the dagger.</p>
|
||||||
|
<p>Most of the patrons are still fascinated by Jarrod.</p>
|
||||||
|
<p>Blavin is squirming around on the floor gibbering about reassigning
|
||||||
|
your case.</p>
|
||||||
|
<p>The duck has found a toppled plate of corn chips and is happily
|
||||||
|
snacking away.</p>
|
||||||
|
<p>You feel like your welcome at Lucy’s Basement has been, for the
|
||||||
|
moment, overstayed.</p>
|
||||||
|
<p>WHAT DO YOU DO</p>
|
||||||
|
<p><a
|
||||||
|
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-10/msg00015.html">www</a></p>
|
||||||
<h2 id="bestiary">Bestiary</h2>
|
<h2 id="bestiary">Bestiary</h2>
|
||||||
<p>Some of the creatures who inhabit the world of Basmentaria</p>
|
<p>Some of the creatures who inhabit the world of Basmentaria</p>
|
||||||
<dt>
|
<dt>
|
||||||
|
|
@ -2622,6 +2761,9 @@ A little bloody goblinoid, flayed of its flesh and getting blood
|
||||||
absolutely EVERYWHERE. Oh god, don’t let it touch that! Ew.
|
absolutely EVERYWHERE. Oh god, don’t let it touch that! Ew.
|
||||||
</dd>
|
</dd>
|
||||||
<dd>
|
<dd>
|
||||||
|
Dispite everything, disgustingly cute.
|
||||||
|
</dd>
|
||||||
|
<dd>
|
||||||
Sole manufacturers of an extremely high quality synthetic blood, and
|
Sole manufacturers of an extremely high quality synthetic blood, and
|
||||||
thus pretty much single-handedly support the “vegetarian” vampire
|
thus pretty much single-handedly support the “vegetarian” vampire
|
||||||
community.
|
community.
|
||||||
|
|
|
||||||
347
www/rss.xml
347
www/rss.xml
|
|
@ -169,6 +169,109 @@
|
||||||
]]>
|
]]>
|
||||||
</description>
|
</description>
|
||||||
</item>
|
</item>
|
||||||
|
<item>
|
||||||
|
<title>24</title>
|
||||||
|
<author>dozens@tilde.team (dozens)</author>
|
||||||
|
<guid isPermaLink="false">24 - Sat, 22 Oct 2022 13:43:40
|
||||||
|
-0600</guid>
|
||||||
|
<pubDate>Sat, 22 Oct 2022 13:43:40 -0600</pubDate>
|
||||||
|
<description>
|
||||||
|
<![CDATA[
|
||||||
|
<h3 id="00024">00024</h3>
|
||||||
|
<blockquote>
|
||||||
|
<p><strong>Corraidhin</strong><br />
|
||||||
|
Well I’ll be! You can turn yourself into a dagger. And I did
|
||||||
|
say we could stab blavin if you could do that, it’s much more
|
||||||
|
stealthy this way. But let me posit this, is the act of
|
||||||
|
stabbing a hobbit unprovoked not itself evil? Or perhaps more
|
||||||
|
convincingly, would it not be better to use the hobbit for
|
||||||
|
whatever information he has so as to lead to this mysterious
|
||||||
|
benefactor, who most assuredly must be evil.</p>
|
||||||
|
<p>Someone who would send out myriads of teams to pillage and
|
||||||
|
plunder cultural artifacts is truly evil, that must be our
|
||||||
|
target.</p>
|
||||||
|
<p>Now this isn’t to say that we won’t stab him. I’m convinced
|
||||||
|
that’s probably a good idea in the long run, but we know
|
||||||
|
nothing of the true evil that motivates him! We would kill him
|
||||||
|
just to lose track of the true evil we must smite!</p>
|
||||||
|
<p><strong>Y’aml</strong><br />
|
||||||
|
But YOU said if I could turn into a dagger we could STAB him.
|
||||||
|
HE’S EVIL. YOU said so! Not keeping your promises IS one step
|
||||||
|
away from PURE evil! Make a choice Hardy Bear! Stab the evil
|
||||||
|
hobbit, or stab the inkling, or stab SOMETHING evil this
|
||||||
|
minute!</p>
|
||||||
|
<p><strong>Corraidhin</strong><br />
|
||||||
|
I most certainly cannot abide with stabbing Inky, it’s
|
||||||
|
entirely off the table. And in a city like this there aren’t
|
||||||
|
any evil things that just jump out for the stabbing.</p>
|
||||||
|
<p>(Corraidhin tries to silently control Y’aml during the
|
||||||
|
discussion. However in so doing the party has fallen silent,
|
||||||
|
aghast even)</p>
|
||||||
|
<p>Corraidhin stands, Y’aml held in hand, red gem eye gleaming
|
||||||
|
a wicked joyful grin as it’s raised high, poised to strike.
|
||||||
|
The party around him is silent, and Blavin stares up in shock.
|
||||||
|
The tavern around them has died down and you can hear the
|
||||||
|
bustle of the proprietor calling for his strong men to deal
|
||||||
|
with this ruckus.</p>
|
||||||
|
</blockquote>
|
||||||
|
<p>The table—and all of Lucy’s Basement within earshot—sits in
|
||||||
|
tense, uneasy quiet at Corraidhin’s one-sided conversation
|
||||||
|
with the Sword of Yam’L. Blavin giggles nervously and sips his
|
||||||
|
martini, willfully forcing himself right up to the very last
|
||||||
|
moment to believe that it is all some sort of jest.</p>
|
||||||
|
<p>But then the sysorcerer stands and raises the blood crazed
|
||||||
|
dagger over his shoulder, and Blavin squeals and writhes in
|
||||||
|
his chair. Lucy’s bouncers scramble forward from the corners
|
||||||
|
of the room to intercept.</p>
|
||||||
|
<blockquote>
|
||||||
|
<p><strong>Y’aml</strong><br />
|
||||||
|
We STAB Hardy Bear! We STAB NOW!!</p>
|
||||||
|
<p>Against Corraidhin’s control, as though he’s in a trance,
|
||||||
|
the dagger comes down. A swift stabbing motion strqight to the
|
||||||
|
neck, as he lunges across the table at Blavin knocking the map
|
||||||
|
and his martini to the side.</p>
|
||||||
|
</blockquote>
|
||||||
|
<!--
|
||||||
|
Bloodlust 3 to Stabble Stabble
|
||||||
|
1 2 4: Partial Success
|
||||||
|
//-->
|
||||||
|
<p>Corraidhin once again feels the same peculiar quality of
|
||||||
|
the blade, that sensation of a hollow core with a heavy liquid
|
||||||
|
sloshing inside. Held aloft, the weight of it feels
|
||||||
|
concentrated at the grip, the blade light as a feather.</p>
|
||||||
|
<p>He stabs down—Yam’L cries out in wordless glee—and the
|
||||||
|
weight flows into the tip of the blade, the blade itself now
|
||||||
|
drawing Corraidhin’s hand downward in a rising crescendo of
|
||||||
|
stabbitude.</p>
|
||||||
|
<!--
|
||||||
|
Do Anything 1 to Resist Bloodlust
|
||||||
|
3: Partial Success
|
||||||
|
//-->
|
||||||
|
<p>Blavin flinches at the last second, and instead of burying
|
||||||
|
itself in his throat, the blade plunges into his shoulder and
|
||||||
|
pins him to the back of the chair. A red mist fills the eye
|
||||||
|
and threatens to cloud it over entirely. It rolls back in
|
||||||
|
ecstasy as it drinks deeply. It sings out, “MORE! MORE! MORE!”
|
||||||
|
and Corraidhin feels the tides of madness rising inside of
|
||||||
|
him, threatening to wash over him wholly, to pull him under
|
||||||
|
and carry him away on thundering waves of bloodlust.</p>
|
||||||
|
<p>Corraidhin struggles to pull the blade from the chair back.
|
||||||
|
Blavin whimpers and mewls as he yanks on it, and clutches his
|
||||||
|
wound and, incredibly, takes a large gulp of his drink.</p>
|
||||||
|
<p>The sysorcerer still has the wherewithal and the presence
|
||||||
|
of mind to be aware of his surroundings. He is not yet so
|
||||||
|
overcome by the bloodlust. He sees his companions, his fellow
|
||||||
|
residents of the Milk Market, seated around the table. And he
|
||||||
|
sees the musclebound bouncers now nearly within reach.</p>
|
||||||
|
<p>Finally he draws the dagger. Blavin sinks in his seat and
|
||||||
|
slides to the floor with his drink, blabbering incoherently,
|
||||||
|
and starts to slither away.</p>
|
||||||
|
<p>WHAT DO YOU DO</p>
|
||||||
|
<p><a
|
||||||
|
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-10/msg00010.html">www</a></p>
|
||||||
|
]]>
|
||||||
|
</description>
|
||||||
|
</item>
|
||||||
<item>
|
<item>
|
||||||
<title>21</title>
|
<title>21</title>
|
||||||
<author>dozens@tilde.team (dozens)</author>
|
<author>dozens@tilde.team (dozens)</author>
|
||||||
|
|
@ -321,105 +424,171 @@
|
||||||
</description>
|
</description>
|
||||||
</item>
|
</item>
|
||||||
<item>
|
<item>
|
||||||
<title>24</title>
|
<title>25</title>
|
||||||
<author>dozens@tilde.team (dozens)</author>
|
<author>dozens@tilde.team (dozens)</author>
|
||||||
<guid isPermaLink="false">24 - Sat, 22 Oct 2022 13:43:40
|
<guid isPermaLink="false">25 - Sun, 23 Oct 2022 09:41:16
|
||||||
-0600</guid>
|
-0600</guid>
|
||||||
<pubDate>Sat, 22 Oct 2022 13:43:40 -0600</pubDate>
|
<pubDate>Sun, 23 Oct 2022 09:41:16 -0600</pubDate>
|
||||||
<description>
|
<description>
|
||||||
<![CDATA[
|
<![CDATA[
|
||||||
<h3 id="00024">00024</h3>
|
<h3 id="00025">00025</h3>
|
||||||
<blockquote>
|
<blockquote>
|
||||||
<p><strong>Corraidhin</strong><br />
|
<p><strong>Corraidhin</strong> Shit, shit shit shit shit shit.
|
||||||
Well I’ll be! You can turn yourself into a dagger. And I did
|
This is NOT good. Damn it Y’aml what was that? It wasn’t even
|
||||||
say we could stab blavin if you could do that, it’s much more
|
slightly stealthy</p>
|
||||||
stealthy this way. But let me posit this, is the act of
|
<p><strong>Y’aml</strong> STAB, delightful blood. Stab the
|
||||||
stabbing a hobbit unprovoked not itself evil? Or perhaps more
|
flesh, tear the skin, pierce the fruit that gives us strength.
|
||||||
convincingly, would it not be better to use the hobbit for
|
Drink the blood, consume their soul. More more more more more
|
||||||
whatever information he has so as to lead to this mysterious
|
more more more more</p>
|
||||||
benefactor, who most assuredly must be evil.</p>
|
<p><strong>Corraidhin (internal thought)</strong> Ugh my head,
|
||||||
<p>Someone who would send out myriads of teams to pillage and
|
it’s heavy, hurts. Misty and red? I can’t see straight, it’s
|
||||||
plunder cultural artifacts is truly evil, that must be our
|
hard to think straight. That blasted sword, I thought for a
|
||||||
target.</p>
|
moment it, no, not think, it definitely did move on its own.
|
||||||
<p>Now this isn’t to say that we won’t stab him. I’m convinced
|
It became lighter and heavier. Pulling against it and it just
|
||||||
that’s probably a good idea in the long run, but we know
|
weighs itself down. This little magical bauble is definitely
|
||||||
nothing of the true evil that motivates him! We would kill him
|
cursed..</p>
|
||||||
just to lose track of the true evil we must smite!</p>
|
<p><strong>Y’aml</strong> CURSED?! Rude Hardy Bear. All we did
|
||||||
<p><strong>Y’aml</strong><br />
|
was stab that evil hobbit. And it’s getting away! Stab him
|
||||||
But YOU said if I could turn into a dagger we could STAB him.
|
again, taste his blood! The tavern gaurds are closing in, they
|
||||||
HE’S EVIL. YOU said so! Not keeping your promises IS one step
|
look like they’re trying to get rid of us, EVIL. Them trying
|
||||||
away from PURE evil! Make a choice Hardy Bear! Stab the evil
|
to stop us from getting that evil hobbit is EVIL, STAB
|
||||||
hobbit, or stab the inkling, or stab SOMETHING evil this
|
THEM.</p>
|
||||||
minute!</p>
|
<p>Corraidhin raises his free hand to his head as though
|
||||||
<p><strong>Corraidhin</strong><br />
|
holding a wound and he groans in dismay as the dagger rises
|
||||||
I most certainly cannot abide with stabbing Inky, it’s
|
again. It travels swiftly down towards Blavin, missing as he
|
||||||
entirely off the table. And in a city like this there aren’t
|
slithers of the booth. And again, digging deep into the wooden
|
||||||
any evil things that just jump out for the stabbing.</p>
|
seat.</p>
|
||||||
<p>(Corraidhin tries to silently control Y’aml during the
|
<p><strong>Y’aml</strong> Disgusting wood, stab the flesh!
|
||||||
discussion. However in so doing the party has fallen silent,
|
Stab the Hobbit Hardy Bear!</p>
|
||||||
aghast even)</p>
|
<p>But Blavin was inching further out of reach towards the
|
||||||
<p>Corraidhin stands, Y’aml held in hand, red gem eye gleaming
|
gaurds. In desperation the dagger begins swinging side to
|
||||||
a wicked joyful grin as it’s raised high, poised to strike.
|
side, making furtive slashing moves in the direction of the
|
||||||
The party around him is silent, and Blavin stares up in shock.
|
guards. The party is safely behind Corraidhin, but innocent
|
||||||
The tavern around them has died down and you can hear the
|
patrons and the guards are directly in their sights.</p>
|
||||||
bustle of the proprietor calling for his strong men to deal
|
<p>Corraidhin grabs his other hand and pulls hard, steadying
|
||||||
with this ruckus.</p>
|
the swinging. STOP! I command you you blasted toothpick, STOP.
|
||||||
|
You’ve had your fun, now STOP. These people are innocent, this
|
||||||
|
man has done us no harm despite his potential “evils”, this is
|
||||||
|
entirely uncalled for!</p>
|
||||||
|
<p><strong>Y’aml</strong> NO!!! EVIL. STAB. EVIL. STAB. EVIL.
|
||||||
|
STAB.</p>
|
||||||
|
<p>The dull voice of the magical dagger rises, angry,
|
||||||
|
insistent. It consumes the last of Corraidhin’s mental
|
||||||
|
strength. All he hears is EVIL. STAB. EVIL. STAB. Yet he
|
||||||
|
clings to his spare arm trying desparately to resist. At this
|
||||||
|
point the party and the tavern has cleared a wide path around
|
||||||
|
the sysorceor as he struggles with himself, mumbling,
|
||||||
|
sometimes yelling. EVIL. STAB. EVIL. STAB. NO WE WILL NOT.
|
||||||
|
EVIL. INNOCENT. STAB BLOOD DRINK. EVIL. EVIL EVIL EVIL STAB
|
||||||
|
IT. MAKE IT BLEED. I WILL NO.. STAB IT. STAB HIM.</p>
|
||||||
|
<p>The voice seems to change, it dies down. Not yelling, but
|
||||||
|
commanding. Firm, calm, sane.</p>
|
||||||
|
<p>Stab them, stab them, make them bleed. Drink the blood,
|
||||||
|
consume the soul, free them from their evil being. Stab them,
|
||||||
|
stab them… over and over and over, as the sysorceor approaches
|
||||||
|
Blavin and the guards with a malevolent look in his ruby red
|
||||||
|
eyes.</p>
|
||||||
</blockquote>
|
</blockquote>
|
||||||
<p>The table—and all of Lucy’s Basement within earshot—sits in
|
<p>~</p>
|
||||||
tense, uneasy quiet at Corraidhin’s one-sided conversation
|
|
||||||
with the Sword of Yam’L. Blavin giggles nervously and sips his
|
|
||||||
martini, willfully forcing himself right up to the very last
|
|
||||||
moment to believe that it is all some sort of jest.</p>
|
|
||||||
<p>But then the sysorcerer stands and raises the blood crazed
|
|
||||||
dagger over his shoulder, and Blavin squeals and writhes in
|
|
||||||
his chair. Lucy’s bouncers scramble forward from the corners
|
|
||||||
of the room to intercept.</p>
|
|
||||||
<blockquote>
|
<blockquote>
|
||||||
<p><strong>Y’aml</strong><br />
|
<p>Inky moves to stand next to Blavin and the nightclub
|
||||||
We STAB Hardy Bear! We STAB NOW!!</p>
|
bouncers. Tossing a tiny “see-eye” container they had borrowed
|
||||||
<p>Against Corraidhin’s control, as though he’s in a trance,
|
from Master Corraidhín at him, Inky looks the sysorceor in the
|
||||||
the dagger comes down. A swift stabbing motion strqight to the
|
eye and says, “You are not your sword.”</p>
|
||||||
neck, as he lunges across the table at Blavin knocking the map
|
<p>Watching the wizard’s expression, Inky continues, more
|
||||||
and his martini to the side.</p>
|
quietly, “If Master Corraidhín truly wishes to end the hobbit,
|
||||||
|
a mere imp would not stop him, but likewise, whatever he sets
|
||||||
|
his mind to do, a dagger cannot stop him either.”</p>
|
||||||
</blockquote>
|
</blockquote>
|
||||||
<!--
|
<p>~</p>
|
||||||
Bloodlust 3 to Stabble Stabble
|
<blockquote>
|
||||||
1 2 4: Partial Success
|
<p>Jarrod steps gently into the fray and activates his
|
||||||
//-->
|
FASCINATING CHARM, attempting to draw all eyes to him. He
|
||||||
<p>Corraidhin once again feels the same peculiar quality of
|
carefully avoids the wild swinging of the
|
||||||
the blade, that sensation of a hollow core with a heavy liquid
|
once-sword-now-dagger.</p>
|
||||||
sloshing inside. Held aloft, the weight of it feels
|
<p>“I think,” he rumbles gently, “we could all use a drink
|
||||||
concentrated at the grip, the blade light as a feather.</p>
|
over the other end of the room. I’m buying, and I’ll spin you
|
||||||
<p>He stabs down—Yam’L cries out in wordless glee—and the
|
all a tale of wonder! A tale of a wanderer, and of a war
|
||||||
weight flows into the tip of the blade, the blade itself now
|
hammer, and the first of their wild battles together!”</p>
|
||||||
drawing Corraidhin’s hand downward in a rising crescendo of
|
<p>Leaning over to whisper urgently in Corraidhín’s ear:
|
||||||
stabbitude.</p>
|
“Friend, I do not know what occurs here, but pull yourself
|
||||||
<!--
|
together. We can later sate our blood lust in more appropriate
|
||||||
Do Anything 1 to Resist Bloodlust
|
places!” Jarrod lends a sly wink in the sysorcerer’s
|
||||||
3: Partial Success
|
direction, one that promises adventure later.</p>
|
||||||
//-->
|
</blockquote>
|
||||||
<p>Blavin flinches at the last second, and instead of burying
|
<p>The tavern guards tense, but pause their advance, as the
|
||||||
itself in his throat, the blade plunges into his shoulder and
|
crazed mage’s friends position themselves protectively around
|
||||||
pins him to the back of the chair. A red mist fills the eye
|
him and try to placate him. They wouldn’t want to engage a
|
||||||
and threatens to cloud it over entirely. It rolls back in
|
master sysorcerer on the best of days, much less one with some
|
||||||
ecstasy as it drinks deeply. It sings out, “MORE! MORE! MORE!”
|
kind of malevolent blood dagger in the middle of a psychotic
|
||||||
and Corraidhin feels the tides of madness rising inside of
|
break. If his compatriots can handle him without them having
|
||||||
him, threatening to wash over him wholly, to pull him under
|
to interfere, all the better.</p>
|
||||||
and carry him away on thundering waves of bloodlust.</p>
|
<p>The duck waddles up next to Inky and quacks softly,
|
||||||
<p>Corraidhin struggles to pull the blade from the chair back.
|
pleadingly at Corraidhin. Only the Ornithologer in the corner
|
||||||
Blavin whimpers and mewls as he yanks on it, and clutches his
|
can understand its words when it says, “As your marketing
|
||||||
wound and, incredibly, takes a large gulp of his drink.</p>
|
manager I must strongly advise against this course of
|
||||||
<p>The sysorcerer still has the wherewithal and the presence
|
action!”</p>
|
||||||
of mind to be aware of his surroundings. He is not yet so
|
<p>Seated in the corner next to the Ornithologer is a shaggy
|
||||||
overcome by the bloodlust. He sees his companions, his fellow
|
groll dressed in a dusty, faded poncho and a wide brimmed hat;
|
||||||
residents of the Milk Market, seated around the table. And he
|
and a greasy, matted gnu, dressed in black ceremonial
|
||||||
sees the musclebound bouncers now nearly within reach.</p>
|
robes.</p>
|
||||||
<p>Finally he draws the dagger. Blavin sinks in his seat and
|
<p>The groll discreetly draws its poncho back revealing a
|
||||||
slides to the floor with his drink, blabbering incoherently,
|
bandoleer of wands and draws a cracklestick and points it at
|
||||||
and starts to slither away.</p>
|
the sysorcer. The wand starts to hum and glow as it charges up
|
||||||
|
for a blast.</p>
|
||||||
|
<p>The gnu slaps the groll’s wrist, and immediately launches
|
||||||
|
into a tirade against the cracklestick’s manufacturer’s
|
||||||
|
proprietary spell slotting algorithm, and honestly how can you
|
||||||
|
possibly justify your choices when there are open source
|
||||||
|
alternatives available?</p>
|
||||||
|
<p>The groll rolls its eyes, obviously having been on the
|
||||||
|
receiving end of this particular lecture before, and tries to
|
||||||
|
slap away the gnu’s grasping hands. The ensuing scuffle
|
||||||
|
threatens to turn this powder keg of a situation into a full
|
||||||
|
blown conflagration until Jarrod actives his FASCINATING
|
||||||
|
CHARM, commanding the attention of the entire room.</p>
|
||||||
|
<p>The gnu freezes with its hands around the groll’s throat.
|
||||||
|
The groll halts with fists full of the gnu’s beard. A grub
|
||||||
|
smoking a hookah pauses with the mouthpiece raised to its
|
||||||
|
pursed lips. A distracted waitress on roller skates crashes
|
||||||
|
right into the bar.</p>
|
||||||
|
<blockquote>
|
||||||
|
<p>As though in a trance Corraidhin continues to yell STAB.
|
||||||
|
THEM. STAB. IT. cutting wildly at the air before him. As Inky
|
||||||
|
whispers to him his expression changes, first a grimace, then
|
||||||
|
a whimper. As Jarrod leads the patrons away from the sysorceor
|
||||||
|
he begins to tremble and cower away from himself, away from
|
||||||
|
everyone. His ruby red eyes dart back and forth between his
|
||||||
|
friends and the patrons, like a frightened animal searching
|
||||||
|
for an escape. He pulls the dagger into himself, as though
|
||||||
|
sheilding it from his surroundings.</p>
|
||||||
|
<p>What.. what’s going on, he mutters feebly to himself.
|
||||||
|
Everything is a blurr. Uncertain of where he is or what’s
|
||||||
|
going on, Corraidhin thumbs the dagger, caressing the large
|
||||||
|
ruby embedded in the hilt. Y’aml, you’re still here, good
|
||||||
|
good, the syscoreor croons.</p>
|
||||||
|
<p>Standing up straight his eyes lock with Jarrod as the Bard
|
||||||
|
glances over his shoulder, momentarily distracted from his
|
||||||
|
oration, worried about his companion.</p>
|
||||||
|
<p>I.. ugh, Corraidhin grabs his head as though in pain, and
|
||||||
|
collapses to the floor.</p>
|
||||||
|
</blockquote>
|
||||||
|
<p>Corraidhin hits the floor and the dagger, now bereft of the
|
||||||
|
well of emotion it had been drawing from, grows still. The eye
|
||||||
|
closes and it seems to sigh happily. “Good job, Hardy Bear.
|
||||||
|
You have spilled the blood of evil.” And it sleeps, inert,
|
||||||
|
lifeless.</p>
|
||||||
|
<p>Corraidhin is on the ground cradling the dagger.</p>
|
||||||
|
<p>Most of the patrons are still fascinated by Jarrod.</p>
|
||||||
|
<p>Blavin is squirming around on the floor gibbering about
|
||||||
|
reassigning your case.</p>
|
||||||
|
<p>The duck has found a toppled plate of corn chips and is
|
||||||
|
happily snacking away.</p>
|
||||||
|
<p>You feel like your welcome at Lucy’s Basement has been, for
|
||||||
|
the moment, overstayed.</p>
|
||||||
<p>WHAT DO YOU DO</p>
|
<p>WHAT DO YOU DO</p>
|
||||||
<p><a
|
<p><a
|
||||||
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-10/msg00010.html">www</a></p>
|
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-10/msg00015.html">www</a></p>
|
||||||
]]>
|
]]>
|
||||||
</description>
|
</description>
|
||||||
</item>
|
</item>
|
||||||
|
|
|
||||||
|
|
@ -242,6 +242,7 @@ of the Were-Hare</a></li>
|
||||||
<li><a href="#00022" id="toc-00022">00022</a></li>
|
<li><a href="#00022" id="toc-00022">00022</a></li>
|
||||||
<li><a href="#00023" id="toc-00023">00023</a></li>
|
<li><a href="#00023" id="toc-00023">00023</a></li>
|
||||||
<li><a href="#00024" id="toc-00024">00024</a></li>
|
<li><a href="#00024" id="toc-00024">00024</a></li>
|
||||||
|
<li><a href="#00025" id="toc-00025">00025</a></li>
|
||||||
</ul></li>
|
</ul></li>
|
||||||
<li><a href="#bestiary" id="toc-bestiary">Bestiary</a></li>
|
<li><a href="#bestiary" id="toc-bestiary">Bestiary</a></li>
|
||||||
<li><a href="#geography" id="toc-geography">Geography</a></li>
|
<li><a href="#geography" id="toc-geography">Geography</a></li>
|
||||||
|
|
@ -254,7 +255,7 @@ id="toc-acknowledgements">Acknowledgements</a></li>
|
||||||
</ul>
|
</ul>
|
||||||
</nav>
|
</nav>
|
||||||
<h2 id="about">About</h2>
|
<h2 id="about">About</h2>
|
||||||
<p>Total length: 20271 words / 86 minutes</p>
|
<p>Total length: 21552 words / 92 minutes</p>
|
||||||
<p>This is a game that me and the kids in the basement are playing over
|
<p>This is a game that me and the kids in the basement are playing over
|
||||||
email.</p>
|
email.</p>
|
||||||
<p><a
|
<p><a
|
||||||
|
|
@ -2492,6 +2493,144 @@ away.</p>
|
||||||
<p>WHAT DO YOU DO</p>
|
<p>WHAT DO YOU DO</p>
|
||||||
<p><a
|
<p><a
|
||||||
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-10/msg00010.html">www</a></p>
|
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-10/msg00010.html">www</a></p>
|
||||||
|
<h3 id="00025">00025</h3>
|
||||||
|
<blockquote>
|
||||||
|
<p><strong>Corraidhin</strong> Shit, shit shit shit shit shit. This is
|
||||||
|
NOT good. Damn it Y’aml what was that? It wasn’t even slightly
|
||||||
|
stealthy</p>
|
||||||
|
<p><strong>Y’aml</strong> STAB, delightful blood. Stab the flesh, tear
|
||||||
|
the skin, pierce the fruit that gives us strength. Drink the blood,
|
||||||
|
consume their soul. More more more more more more more more more</p>
|
||||||
|
<p><strong>Corraidhin (internal thought)</strong> Ugh my head, it’s
|
||||||
|
heavy, hurts. Misty and red? I can’t see straight, it’s hard to think
|
||||||
|
straight. That blasted sword, I thought for a moment it, no, not think,
|
||||||
|
it definitely did move on its own. It became lighter and heavier.
|
||||||
|
Pulling against it and it just weighs itself down. This little magical
|
||||||
|
bauble is definitely cursed..</p>
|
||||||
|
<p><strong>Y’aml</strong> CURSED?! Rude Hardy Bear. All we did was stab
|
||||||
|
that evil hobbit. And it’s getting away! Stab him again, taste his
|
||||||
|
blood! The tavern gaurds are closing in, they look like they’re trying
|
||||||
|
to get rid of us, EVIL. Them trying to stop us from getting that evil
|
||||||
|
hobbit is EVIL, STAB THEM.</p>
|
||||||
|
<p>Corraidhin raises his free hand to his head as though holding a wound
|
||||||
|
and he groans in dismay as the dagger rises again. It travels swiftly
|
||||||
|
down towards Blavin, missing as he slithers of the booth. And again,
|
||||||
|
digging deep into the wooden seat.</p>
|
||||||
|
<p><strong>Y’aml</strong> Disgusting wood, stab the flesh! Stab the
|
||||||
|
Hobbit Hardy Bear!</p>
|
||||||
|
<p>But Blavin was inching further out of reach towards the gaurds. In
|
||||||
|
desperation the dagger begins swinging side to side, making furtive
|
||||||
|
slashing moves in the direction of the guards. The party is safely
|
||||||
|
behind Corraidhin, but innocent patrons and the guards are directly in
|
||||||
|
their sights.</p>
|
||||||
|
<p>Corraidhin grabs his other hand and pulls hard, steadying the
|
||||||
|
swinging. STOP! I command you you blasted toothpick, STOP. You’ve had
|
||||||
|
your fun, now STOP. These people are innocent, this man has done us no
|
||||||
|
harm despite his potential “evils”, this is entirely uncalled for!</p>
|
||||||
|
<p><strong>Y’aml</strong> NO!!! EVIL. STAB. EVIL. STAB. EVIL. STAB.</p>
|
||||||
|
<p>The dull voice of the magical dagger rises, angry, insistent. It
|
||||||
|
consumes the last of Corraidhin’s mental strength. All he hears is EVIL.
|
||||||
|
STAB. EVIL. STAB. Yet he clings to his spare arm trying desparately to
|
||||||
|
resist. At this point the party and the tavern has cleared a wide path
|
||||||
|
around the sysorceor as he struggles with himself, mumbling, sometimes
|
||||||
|
yelling. EVIL. STAB. EVIL. STAB. NO WE WILL NOT. EVIL. INNOCENT. STAB
|
||||||
|
BLOOD DRINK. EVIL. EVIL EVIL EVIL STAB IT. MAKE IT BLEED. I WILL NO..
|
||||||
|
STAB IT. STAB HIM.</p>
|
||||||
|
<p>The voice seems to change, it dies down. Not yelling, but commanding.
|
||||||
|
Firm, calm, sane.</p>
|
||||||
|
<p>Stab them, stab them, make them bleed. Drink the blood, consume the
|
||||||
|
soul, free them from their evil being. Stab them, stab them… over and
|
||||||
|
over and over, as the sysorceor approaches Blavin and the guards with a
|
||||||
|
malevolent look in his ruby red eyes.</p>
|
||||||
|
</blockquote>
|
||||||
|
<p>~</p>
|
||||||
|
<blockquote>
|
||||||
|
<p>Inky moves to stand next to Blavin and the nightclub bouncers.
|
||||||
|
Tossing a tiny “see-eye” container they had borrowed from Master
|
||||||
|
Corraidhín at him, Inky looks the sysorceor in the eye and says, “You
|
||||||
|
are not your sword.”</p>
|
||||||
|
<p>Watching the wizard’s expression, Inky continues, more quietly, “If
|
||||||
|
Master Corraidhín truly wishes to end the hobbit, a mere imp would not
|
||||||
|
stop him, but likewise, whatever he sets his mind to do, a dagger cannot
|
||||||
|
stop him either.”</p>
|
||||||
|
</blockquote>
|
||||||
|
<p>~</p>
|
||||||
|
<blockquote>
|
||||||
|
<p>Jarrod steps gently into the fray and activates his FASCINATING
|
||||||
|
CHARM, attempting to draw all eyes to him. He carefully avoids the wild
|
||||||
|
swinging of the once-sword-now-dagger.</p>
|
||||||
|
<p>“I think,” he rumbles gently, “we could all use a drink over the
|
||||||
|
other end of the room. I’m buying, and I’ll spin you all a tale of
|
||||||
|
wonder! A tale of a wanderer, and of a war hammer, and the first of
|
||||||
|
their wild battles together!”</p>
|
||||||
|
<p>Leaning over to whisper urgently in Corraidhín’s ear: “Friend, I do
|
||||||
|
not know what occurs here, but pull yourself together. We can later sate
|
||||||
|
our blood lust in more appropriate places!” Jarrod lends a sly wink in
|
||||||
|
the sysorcerer’s direction, one that promises adventure later.</p>
|
||||||
|
</blockquote>
|
||||||
|
<p>The tavern guards tense, but pause their advance, as the crazed
|
||||||
|
mage’s friends position themselves protectively around him and try to
|
||||||
|
placate him. They wouldn’t want to engage a master sysorcerer on the
|
||||||
|
best of days, much less one with some kind of malevolent blood dagger in
|
||||||
|
the middle of a psychotic break. If his compatriots can handle him
|
||||||
|
without them having to interfere, all the better.</p>
|
||||||
|
<p>The duck waddles up next to Inky and quacks softly, pleadingly at
|
||||||
|
Corraidhin. Only the Ornithologer in the corner can understand its words
|
||||||
|
when it says, “As your marketing manager I must strongly advise against
|
||||||
|
this course of action!”</p>
|
||||||
|
<p>Seated in the corner next to the Ornithologer is a shaggy groll
|
||||||
|
dressed in a dusty, faded poncho and a wide brimmed hat; and a greasy,
|
||||||
|
matted gnu, dressed in black ceremonial robes.</p>
|
||||||
|
<p>The groll discreetly draws its poncho back revealing a bandoleer of
|
||||||
|
wands and draws a cracklestick and points it at the sysorcer. The wand
|
||||||
|
starts to hum and glow as it charges up for a blast.</p>
|
||||||
|
<p>The gnu slaps the groll’s wrist, and immediately launches into a
|
||||||
|
tirade against the cracklestick’s manufacturer’s proprietary spell
|
||||||
|
slotting algorithm, and honestly how can you possibly justify your
|
||||||
|
choices when there are open source alternatives available?</p>
|
||||||
|
<p>The groll rolls its eyes, obviously having been on the receiving end
|
||||||
|
of this particular lecture before, and tries to slap away the gnu’s
|
||||||
|
grasping hands. The ensuing scuffle threatens to turn this powder keg of
|
||||||
|
a situation into a full blown conflagration until Jarrod actives his
|
||||||
|
FASCINATING CHARM, commanding the attention of the entire room.</p>
|
||||||
|
<p>The gnu freezes with its hands around the groll’s throat. The groll
|
||||||
|
halts with fists full of the gnu’s beard. A grub smoking a hookah pauses
|
||||||
|
with the mouthpiece raised to its pursed lips. A distracted waitress on
|
||||||
|
roller skates crashes right into the bar.</p>
|
||||||
|
<blockquote>
|
||||||
|
<p>As though in a trance Corraidhin continues to yell STAB. THEM. STAB.
|
||||||
|
IT. cutting wildly at the air before him. As Inky whispers to him his
|
||||||
|
expression changes, first a grimace, then a whimper. As Jarrod leads the
|
||||||
|
patrons away from the sysorceor he begins to tremble and cower away from
|
||||||
|
himself, away from everyone. His ruby red eyes dart back and forth
|
||||||
|
between his friends and the patrons, like a frightened animal searching
|
||||||
|
for an escape. He pulls the dagger into himself, as though sheilding it
|
||||||
|
from his surroundings.</p>
|
||||||
|
<p>What.. what’s going on, he mutters feebly to himself. Everything is a
|
||||||
|
blurr. Uncertain of where he is or what’s going on, Corraidhin thumbs
|
||||||
|
the dagger, caressing the large ruby embedded in the hilt. Y’aml, you’re
|
||||||
|
still here, good good, the syscoreor croons.</p>
|
||||||
|
<p>Standing up straight his eyes lock with Jarrod as the Bard glances
|
||||||
|
over his shoulder, momentarily distracted from his oration, worried
|
||||||
|
about his companion.</p>
|
||||||
|
<p>I.. ugh, Corraidhin grabs his head as though in pain, and collapses
|
||||||
|
to the floor.</p>
|
||||||
|
</blockquote>
|
||||||
|
<p>Corraidhin hits the floor and the dagger, now bereft of the well of
|
||||||
|
emotion it had been drawing from, grows still. The eye closes and it
|
||||||
|
seems to sigh happily. “Good job, Hardy Bear. You have spilled the blood
|
||||||
|
of evil.” And it sleeps, inert, lifeless.</p>
|
||||||
|
<p>Corraidhin is on the ground cradling the dagger.</p>
|
||||||
|
<p>Most of the patrons are still fascinated by Jarrod.</p>
|
||||||
|
<p>Blavin is squirming around on the floor gibbering about reassigning
|
||||||
|
your case.</p>
|
||||||
|
<p>The duck has found a toppled plate of corn chips and is happily
|
||||||
|
snacking away.</p>
|
||||||
|
<p>You feel like your welcome at Lucy’s Basement has been, for the
|
||||||
|
moment, overstayed.</p>
|
||||||
|
<p>WHAT DO YOU DO</p>
|
||||||
|
<p><a
|
||||||
|
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-10/msg00015.html">www</a></p>
|
||||||
<h2 id="bestiary">Bestiary</h2>
|
<h2 id="bestiary">Bestiary</h2>
|
||||||
<p>Some of the creatures who inhabit the world of Basmentaria</p>
|
<p>Some of the creatures who inhabit the world of Basmentaria</p>
|
||||||
<dt>
|
<dt>
|
||||||
|
|
@ -2625,6 +2764,9 @@ A little bloody goblinoid, flayed of its flesh and getting blood
|
||||||
absolutely EVERYWHERE. Oh god, don’t let it touch that! Ew.
|
absolutely EVERYWHERE. Oh god, don’t let it touch that! Ew.
|
||||||
</dd>
|
</dd>
|
||||||
<dd>
|
<dd>
|
||||||
|
Dispite everything, disgustingly cute.
|
||||||
|
</dd>
|
||||||
|
<dd>
|
||||||
Sole manufacturers of an extremely high quality synthetic blood, and
|
Sole manufacturers of an extremely high quality synthetic blood, and
|
||||||
thus pretty much single-handedly support the “vegetarian” vampire
|
thus pretty much single-handedly support the “vegetarian” vampire
|
||||||
community.
|
community.
|
||||||
|
|
|
||||||
Loading…
Reference in New Issue