5.0 KiB
| title | created | updated | public | syndicated |
|---|---|---|---|---|
| 00014 | Fri, 16 Sep 2022 14:37:41 -0600 | Fri, 16 Sep 2022 14:37:41 -0600 | yes | yes |
00014
Jarrod wanders into the vault. Spotting the Aurs and the Kobits, a slow grin starts to spread on his face. Taking a deep breath in, he gestures grandiosely around him and booms: "Ah! Come gather round! Hear a tale of Triumph! Of Heart! ... Maybe even a bit of Nirvana!"
He saunters over to the giant open clam and poses grandly nearby. His eyes sweep across the Kobits, attempting to catch the eyes of each one, as he begins to tap the fingers of his left hand rhythmically against his thigh, mimicking a heartbeat.
"Our tale begins with a hero, though one not oft recognized, Weaving bureaucratic mysteries across parchment with zeal, Though held to account, and by all accounts terrorized, By small minded yes-men with power and zeal! Yes, our hero of sorts did not act and avail, He gave others their tasks to be done. No pleasure he gleaned from the mop or the pail, And yet here we begin with the fun!"Thus has the epic begun, and Jarrod is pushing the rhythm of the words hard, attempting to draw all eyes and ears to himself.
Broad-chested, olive-skinned Jarrod launches into the epic, flanked on one side by a giant clam and on the other side by a suit of armor.
The aurs, enraptured, immediately flutter down to rest at his feet to listen to the poem.
The one Kobit that tripped over its own feet rolls over where it lays on the ground and listens with naked admiration.
The naked, winged Kobit rouses from its sleep at the noise with a groan. It grouchily rises to its feet, flaps its wings a few times, and soars up into the air.
"My name," it cries out, "is HORSE! BhrruUHRHUuHRRh! Behold my majesty! BrUHrhHHHURHuRu! You shall not steal my blue and gold, melon-sized gem! BhrruUHRHUuHRRh! I have such beautiful WINGS!"
The aurs and the clumsy Kobit all start to fidget as Horse's outburst threatens to break the spell of Jarrod's captivating oration.
"Excellent!" Corradihin whispers to Inky nudging her gently as he does. "It looks like Jarrod has the Kobits covered, I'm gonna make a break for the sword, I'm decently, somewhat, sort of positive that it's the legendary sword of Jason. But if I'm wrong and it's cursed watch my back. I might need a quick save."
Corraidhin makes a step forward, "Oh and Inky, if Jarrod's distraction goes awry, shout, I'll come in fireballs blazing. I highly suggest a rapid retreat if it comes to thay."
Corraidhin darts towards the sword scrambling over the terrain while the actions on the vault. As he approaches the sword he asks the sword if it wouldn't mind coming along for a bit of adventure, and he grabs it by the hilt.
Corraidhín wades resolutely into the pool. The water rises up to his knees, his hips, his shoulders, and finally he dives under about 10 feet to the bottom of the pool. The eye of the sword stares at him with great intensity as he descends.
The mage reaches out and firmly grasps the hilt.
You feel a jolt, and the eye rolls back in its socket.
You yank on the sword and it budges not one bit. Not one iota!
You go to adjust your grip. But your hand is stuck fast! Glued to the hilt of the sword!
You look up at the surface of the water, some 10 feet above.
You look down at the sword that refuses to release you.
You look more closely at the pattern on the hilt. Egads! Why did you not see it before? The pattern is neither whirly nor swirly at all! It is in fact kind of spacey and indented.
This is not the legendary Sword of J'son! It's so obvious! How could you have been so mistaken! This is none other than the infamous Sword of Yam'l. Yam'l is of course a superset of J'son, so it is an easy enough error to make. And perfectly harmless in an academic setting. It is however a costly miscalculation to make while glued to a sword at the bottom of a fountain.
You lungs start to burn a little bit, and you hear a spectral, burbling, significant whitespace voice in your head as the sword makes intense eye contact with you:
---
name: Yam'l
conditions: {"stuck": "true", "sticky": "true"}
greatest desire: stabbing
...
And then an expectant pause, as though the sword eagerly awaits your reply.
Inky watches Master Corraidhín make his way towards the creepy sword with two drams of admiration and a tiny dose of apprehension. Taking out a small wrench, a pouch of nuts and bolts, along with some gum twine, Inky crouches near the vault archway, listening in a little on Jarrod's epic tale about the unsung hero of sanitation while occasionally looking into the pool.
Inky, from the best seat in the house, hears Jarrod launch into an epic poem, and also the beating of leathery wings and a mighty whinny and a neigh.
They also watch Corraidhín dive to the bottom of the fountain, and then thrash about a bit with one hand on the hilt of the eye sword.
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