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Post by IcarusIX on Mar 16, 2018 18:15:24 GMT -5
Welcome one, welcome all! This is the Magnificent Marvel of the Magnanimous Masked Messiah! I will be your host--- The Masked Messiah...
What the dear members of my audience must understand before this tale begins is that I am literally The Hero. It's only natural, considering my title. Anything you might see, hear, or otherwise detect or infer during these shows that contradict the idea of myself as Hero is to be regarded as suspect at best and outright deception at worst. In time, you will come to learn how The Masked Messiah saved literally everyone! Including you.
It was a dazzling Autumn/Winter/Spring/Summer day in our fair city when I suddenly found myself in the employ of the Church. It's truly funny how that can sneak up on you, but that's just how it goes. Or that's what they want you to believe! In any case, they had cookies and I shared those cookies liberally with a few other people that would turn out to be quite useful in keeping I, the Messiah, alive. According to some poor, distressed Church lady, some vile fiend had been snatching children from around town! It was not to be brooked! Such an insidious sin was unthinkable!
Unfortunately, the children were taken to a place called Jzadirune and there was no possible way I was going there. Now, the Messiah knows what the audience is probably thinking. "How could you abandon your friends, Mr. Messiah? How could you leave those poor, defenseless children to their terrible fates? You're supposed to save everyone!" The thing about going to Jzadirune is this: if you go there, you'll disappear. Forever. Fade from existence. Cease to be! Vanish! It's awful. And the Masked Messiah cannot be the savior of everyone if he literally cannot be. But, as ever, the Messiah is magnanimous and incredible. He promptly went about sending reinforcements for his friends to boldly go where no man (or woman) should ever go. With those valiant sacrifices minions, the Messiah would have been able to stay safely above where he is undoubtedly allowed to exist and still have provided the necessary means for his allies to save the children. It was, of course, a win-win. That is, until someone awful and terrible and stinky interfered with that plan and so rudely dragged the Masked Messiah down to Jzadirune.
*insert boos and hisses*
Now, now, please. We're all human/orc/elf/gnome/etc. We all make mistakes. Except for me. I make tactical sacrifices for the sake of victory.
Anyway, I was valiantly striding forth at every possible opportunity, I assure you, when we were beset on all sides by a vicious horde or three of terrible--- things... They were mostly invisible, but most assuredly there. Which, come to think of it, is rather strange. Nothing is supposed to be there in Jzadirune anymore. That's the whole point of the vanishing sickness. Regardless, the Masked Messiah strove powerfully to help his friends beat back the massive hordes of skulking skulkers that skulked about, but alas! The Messiah was woefully encumbered by the CURSE OF JZADIRUNE! It took all of his energy to fight the vanishing sickness, but he was most successful in the end.
Then there was the invisible room. Not to say the room itself was invisible, but that most of the things contained within said room were rendered invisible. It was, of course, most distressing to the Messiah. However, his allies boldly strode forth into the vanishing area and were soon beset upon by a strange and titanic beast of unknown origin. Upon realizing his allies' distress, the Messiah immediately dashed forward into the fray. Armed with naught but a simple dagger, the Messiah viciously dismantled his invisible foe and saved everyone. Literally everyone, forever. But we'll get back to that.
Now, if one is so unfortunately possessed of the irrational desire to visit Jzadirune, let this be made perfectly clear. The doors within those accursed ruins are highly dangerous. We spent quite some time discerning how to bypass said doors. There were, of course, more skulking skulkies to face along the way. Those were not so nasty anymore, since our growth as mighty big heroes had been prolific already, except one got the jump on me and stabbed me quite deeply. The would-be assassin was dealt with swiftly, and the Messiah was patched up posthaste.
We were just about to successfully find the missing children, right on the cusp of doing so, and I assure you that's definitely the case, when we were so rudely interrupted by a giant brain monster attacking one of our accompanying musicians. Heavens know why the woman was just sitting there like that, drawing something, but we were obligated to save her. So we did. Unfortunately, the event cost us our train of thought and it most certainly damned us to twice as much time to achieving our goal again. Yes, that is how the Messiah remembers it. It was a disaster. Unmitigatable. Fickle are the fates!
Another thing one must be wary of in Jzadirune: laundry. Trust no scrap of cloth, no swath of cloak, no leg of pantaloon! Insidious and monstrous, all. Shiver-inducing ragamuffins! Stab every pile of laundry as you come upon it, before it has the chance to move. And let no loom or spinning wheel work themselves!
Also, bring a map. Between my illustrious self and the ever worthy tank furniture salesman extraordinaire, we discovered the method of reaching the sunken depths of the foul slave markets beneath Jzadirune. We needed no other help. Whatsoever. Truly. We're spectacular. Mostly me.
Anyhow, you'll just have to wait until next time to find out how we definitely saved all of the children. Because that definitely happened. Absolutely, it did. Unquestionably so.
Toodles!
~M
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Post by Harriet on Mar 17, 2018 18:31:58 GMT -5
I may be rude, but I am not awful, terrible, or stinky. I can and do prestidigitate away any unpleasantness whenever it arises. And I certainly did notice that you blamed me for derailing the whole adventure by not breathing down your necks while you wandered around a huge room in a very boring and definitely not story building way. What's the point of doing this if not to remember in exacting detail how glorious our mission became?
But you (and Rondo) did save me. I appreciate your efforts and you will be remembered in song for generations for your efforts.
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Post by IcarusIX on Mar 17, 2018 22:48:56 GMT -5
The Masked Messiah does not entertain hecklers! Security! Where is security?
Oh right. I forgot to hire any.
Well, that's all, folks!
~M
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Post by IcarusIX on Mar 23, 2018 12:10:52 GMT -5
Descending into the tumultuous guts of the Malachite Hold, a most reprehensible bastion of slavery and senseless suffering, the Masked Messiah and his stalwart allies bravely conquered depths heretofore unbraved! There were, predictably, more traps for our lively band of heroes to circumvent and/or survive. But survive them we did!
The Messiah does begin to wonder, however, if there's no inanimate object beneath our fair city that won't become animate upon our approach. Are we miracle bringers of life? Do we bestow thought, will, and movement upon the ordinary? What limits to this power can we find and then further break? Such a divine gift would be far more appreciated if everything we gave life to didn't attack us straight away. First laundry, then chains, now the very walls themselves! What next? The air we breathe?
I should not give the whimsical gods such thoughts. Forget I mentioned it!
As a matter of course, the Messiah led his intrepid friends directly to the slaves that we were hired to save. Well, some of them, in any case. We sent the hapless prisoners back to the entrance with an armed escort of one grizzly and keen eyed veteran of combat that was among them. It was most fortuitous, such fate.
Now our lovely band descends yet further into the achey gastrointestinals of the Hobgoblin nest. Surely, upon the conclusion of the very next episode of The Magnificent Marvel of the Magnanimous Masked Messiah, we shall have saved the children! And then we shall take the riches of the church. As heroes.
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Post by IcarusIX on Mar 28, 2018 23:39:20 GMT -5
Let us skip to the good part this time, yes?
We managed to find the children. They were being auctioned off right as we were entering a foreboding cavern within the Malachite Hold. At an offer to participate in the auction, our quick thinking and reliable furniture salesman leaped into action. It was just as well, considering the next guess to enter the room. None other than a massive, self-levitating eye covered in more little eyes! They call it a "Beholder," and you know what they say about Beauty and where to find it. Anyway, the Beholder claimed one of the children and made the Hobgoblin boss nearly donate a heavy log to his own pantaloons. He said the words, "under my protection." Whatever that means. The rest of us stayed silent, for once, and watched him take the boy away.
The church was happy with our success, but not all of the missing people were freed. We agreed to delve into the Hold once more, to eradicate the Hobgoblin pests once and for all so that the abductions could never continue. What's more, the city agreed to collapse the elevator shaft that leads down into that insidious place. After we arrive back safely, of course.
There seems to be one last name to check off of our list before we secure any more prisoners, however. Kazmogen.
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Post by IcarusIX on Apr 7, 2018 0:09:59 GMT -5
Never mind the terrible, nefarious slave trading monster beneath the city. There's other, less intimidating creatures to kill!
Such as Were-Rats. Were-Rats. Let me repeat that. Were-Rats. Why in the name of the good gods would you let yourself get bit by such a thing? Hideous. If you're foolish enough to be bit by a rat, you probably deserve to be turned into a monstrous half-man half-rat atrocity. Just saying.
Now our great and Divine task is to bring the head of the City Guard as many goblin ears as we can get. I suggested setting up a goblin farm for ourselves, incognito of course, but that primo advice was hastily ignored. As per usual. Woe, but to be such a genius! To be burdened with such mystical and delightful yet undiscovered talent! My friends shall never know the great sorcery of which I am capable!
We, of course, descended beneath the Shackled City again. It's something of a habit, of late. All our dealings must be subterranean, it would seem. Anywho, there were far more goblins beneath the bathhouse than we were expecting. Things looked desperate, but through cunning and quick action we managed to persevere. Like heroes.
Now we're going to do something dastardly. Wish us luck!
~Toodles
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Post by IcarusIX on Apr 8, 2018 19:50:18 GMT -5
Tonight's tale is, alas, a tragedy. Any victory won, no matter how mountainous or ambitious, is overshadowed by the loss this speaker feels.
It started with another trip into the deep, as it always does. Somewhere along the way, we lost sight of our dastardly plan to lure others into these depths. I cannot now say whether things would have gone better for us if we had pulled it off, or if that night's events would have ended in further tragedy. I cannot bring myself to ask the sacred artifact of our sponsoring church. Nor can I ask myself. The past is forever etched into the earth of time like great canyons and no wish or wisdom can change it.
The silence should have been our first warning. No horde of goblins and nasties came to greet us right away. Such portent should have been more than enough to warrant greater caution. Alas, we forged on, as our valorous band is wont to do. We fought a goblin riding some sort of talking wolf-beast creature thing. It was hideous, so I do not regret its death. The goblin we spared, and this played into our tale further. Other goblins came to avenge, but not many, and they were quickly dispatched. However, we were accosted by a mist. WITH EYES. Yes, you read that correctly. The mist had eyes, and I'm certain you know that no holy thing can be contained within such a creepy and surreptitious manifestation. You are, as ever, a keen and discerning audience. I congratulate you.
Rats began to pour from the walls. Our quick action saw effected their equally quick retreat, but we were not satisfied. We continued toward greater depths, but were further accosted by tentacled creatures that dropped from the ceiling. And the mist, again. During our struggle with the devious ambushers, which had created darkness impossible to pierce with any natural sight, our friend Kamen was wounded badly by the entity in the mist. We finished our battle as quickly as we could, but one might argue it was too late. Kamen rushed onward to leave hastily, but he went alone. He was out of sight before any of us knew it and we wouldn't see him again. Not him. Not truly.
Mind you, I mourned. I knew deep in my bones that he was gone. The Messiah's depression was profound, but one thing drove him. The idea of revenge. Recompense. Like for like. That entity, and the goblins that were likely in league with it, had to pay. Dearly.
The Messiah bought a warehouse with only one thing in mind: a new kind of ambush. The warehouse was retrofitted to become a killing ground, one which I will humbly posit worked well enough. My targets arrived. As well as the dead vessel that once belonged to our friend. I hated that unholy creature for wearing his face. That was OUR friend. Not the entity's plaything. We took our friend's body back, but it crumbled to dust. Always to be deprived of a proper rest.
Kamen was our friend. A leader. A watchful sentry that let no trap catch us unaware. A prickling conscience in my hours of madness, keeping me grounded and with my eyes on our true goals. Our daring skirmisher that boldly slew every villain with a rapier as quick as his wit. The manager of our wealth and our health. He was more than we could define. Even though he was not perfect, and even if he didn't always get along with everyone, we needed him more than we knew. All of us.
I must be honest with myself. Our loss makes me remorseful for another lost friendship. I feel I've been neglectful. Perhaps it is much too little, much too late. Probably so. Nevertheless, I must make some amends. Even if I must face rejection, that is simply how it must go. I pray for a measure of forgiveness.
Through this, we've made some new friends. Yet another has decided to leave for time indeterminate. The Messiah doesn't know what the future will greet us with as we crest this next horizon together.
Regardless, the show must go on.
Until next time, my darlings. Stay safe and may the gods keep you well.
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Post by IcarusIX on Apr 24, 2018 19:33:08 GMT -5
Well, well. Do I have a story for you.
The Commander of the city guard would not relent. Our new goal was to find out who was organizing the goblins and giving them such equipment as an army might use. So, it was back to the deep. Mind you, this is now several layers below our fair city. My calves are becoming quite defined.
Anywho, we found some other things that were definitely not the leader of the goblins. We dealt with them. All the while, we were haunted by a cloud of mist. You know, the one with the eyes. Eventually, we found a large room occupied with appropriately large bats. Let me amend that. Giant bats. Our Orc friend tried to ride one. What's more terrifying is that it almost worked. During our little exploration of the area, we found a discrete but unassuming little alcove. We'll get back to that (literally).
Now, any good insane person would leave alone any room that is painted with blood and adorned with a chair made of bones, skin, and faces. They would run! But, no. The Messiah associates himself with a bunch of hooligans that are tragically sane. As such, they decided to further investigate the room of doom. Surprise! The chair came alive. Also, you know, the vampire was there. Yes, the vampire. DRAKTHAR! HE HAS BAT EARS AND HUNTS AS A WOLF. What carp.
By now, the grisly chair of murder incarnate was doing its level best to kill us. Also, the vampire. We were doing our best to not let that happen when, SURPRISE! Kazmogen also appeared. Why? I can't say. No, literally, I can't say. I've not the foggiest. But he came trudging down a side corridor as if he had been waiting for his cue (at least some people are reasonable), murder in his eyes. It was murder everywhere. Murder in the eyes of a vampire that had once been eyes in a mist, murder in a chair, and murder in a slaver's heart. Some of us were less pleased to see Kazmogen than some others, and the nasty slaver paid dearly for that. I can still smell his flesh cooking inside his armor. Awful.
The chair could take no more abuse and was succinctly torn to shreds. To shreds, I say. Drakthar, too, decided that he'd had enough. Exploding into a cloud of mist once again (I'm sensing a theme here), he flew away. We tried to pursue, but alas we were not... er... Well, we weren't of the proper constitution to continue the chase. We went back to the murder room (Why?) to recollect. Someone wanted to investigate the alcove again, so we all went together. Can't be too careful, you know. It was upon our arrival there that a trap door was found. Who would be found resting beneath that trap door but Drakthar himself? Just as one of my heroic companions was about to stake the dreaded vampire through the chest, I casually (and heroically) poured a vial of holy water upon him. He burst into mist again and more of the water fell into his little hidey hole. As it so happens, this apparently denies a vampire any chance of ever reaching oblivion, let alone regenerating for further mischief. He's not so happy, as evidenced by his constant haunting of my cranial region, but this arrangement suits me just fine. Oh, yes. Quite well indeed.
Now, at some point before all of this we had run into (and killed) a couple of people that appeared to be up to no good in our (relative) neighborhood. We got into one little fight and they lost their hands. And their lives. A messy bit of business, but one that turned out somewhat fortunately for us. We learned that Orcs (not our restaurant manager, though) were being brought into Cauldron by a supposed noble to serve as his army. We found those Orcs and a really unhappy Dwarf. One of our comrades leaped forward into battle as if on cue (this was definitely not his cue). He was beat down rather quickly. The rest of us were a little more hesitant, which was good, because the Orcs didn't seem to be too determined on fighting. That was until the Dwarf insulted them. Then they were determined to fight. The Dwarf found out why you don't insult six Orcs. Unfortunately, he'll never be able to use that lesson.
And six Orcs learned why it's best to work with us instead of working for some weird, insidious noble. The restaurant has six new employees. Sorry, seven. There was a goblin we captured along the way.
Now, if you'll excuse me, adventure calls once again. Our little band of heroes is going to be the best, like no one ever was. To recruit every monster is our real test, but to train them (in restaurant management, cooking, and serving) is our cause.
Come visit the Fuzzy Wuzzy Bar and Grill. Try the steak.
~M
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Post by IcarusIX on May 11, 2018 23:35:14 GMT -5
Oh, the joy we had. Oh, the revelry! The heavens above Cauldron wept not with sorrow, but with jubilance. We danced in the rain, as all people of Cauldron do when the time of the Festival comes, and the city laughed for weeks.
I suppose it bears saying that this adventure did not start with us going into the deep. Praise the gods. I've developed a taste for delving into dungeons and caverns, but a break is just as welcome from that as any other daily task.
The Festival came and we prepared for it as best we could. I devised small plays to act out in the streets, with props and miniature sets as well as choreographed times to use my illusions to their fullest effect. Others spent time investigating rumors about of lovely band of adventurers. Those rumors were pretty nasty, some of which still need addressing, but my friends were quite able to address the bulk of them swiftly and decisively. As it would happen, one of our comrades found himself in a spot of trouble with some local nobles (or, more specifically, the children of said nobles). He was arrested--- I think twice? Maybe it was three times. I can't recall, much of those weeks have blurred.
It was during that fateful scuffle with the aforementioned noble children that Grogrot met a young woman that he intended to woo. Of course, being the excellent wingman that I am, I made it my personal mission to help him. Luckily, the festival lent itself well to our endeavors. First, Grogrot won the Drinking Contest and the right to challenge some frilly looking noble (who in his own right could drink like a god). That went extremely well. Then our Orcish friend won the contest at the lake, with the boats. I didn't fare so well during that competition, but I knew before I entered it that I'd come nowhere close to victory. Still, it was all good fun. Lastly, Grogrot won a wrestling competition that his new lady friend had entered as well. There might have been a drunken night of singing outside of her bedroom window, but I'll let the dear audience dream of that beautiful scene on their own.
There was a day where a big parade went all around the city. I invited the darling priestess Jenya to come with us and dance. She said yes! It was great fun. Later, I managed to procure the good graces of a patron that wished to produce an original play that I am now writing for him. By some machination of fate, nearly our entire band of adventurers was invited to attend THE grandest ball of the Festival near the Festival's end. There were many nobles there. Our former city-guard friend made amends such as he needed to. Grogrot played as a grand demon during the big play! And, perhaps predictably, I played a trickster. If the shoe fits! I invited Jenya as my guest to the ball and we had a wonderful night. She checked out of the event a little early, so I spent the rest of the night entertaining a gaggle of other ladies and escorting them home when the ball was closed down.
Unfortunately, the Festival's end saw the beginning of new troubles. Jenya's friend is in grave peril and we must go to rescue him, as well as a group of other innocents that are with him.
This story shall continue another time, dear audience.
Until then, reminisce on some of the best days of our lives. Smile. Laugh.
~M
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Post by IcarusIX on May 19, 2018 14:42:38 GMT -5
If tonight's entertainment seems much like a dream, and the host begins to speak in hardly discernible tongues, fret not, dear audience. Time has bent around like two contortionists who are lovers, but who are also very competitive by nature. Space has warped like a wax statue left out too long in the sun. The sturdy infrastructure of Order and its dependable servant Logic have left our quaint realm of being to take a small vacation. Chaos reigns like never before and Whimsy has no leash upon which it must be pulled back before it runs too far astray through our ever pedestrian perceptions. All this to say, if tonight's show does perturb or disturb, if it should unseat the quiet of one's mind and set racing such questions that vex your most critical hours of production or rest, then forget it. Forget this show ever happened and mark it as nothing more than the hallucinations of a night too wild with the forbidden ambrosia of careless gods that tipped o'er their glass and saw not what they rained upon our world. Forget it all and retreat into a sweeter dream.
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Yo, check it. It went down like this. See, my homies heard that some punks went to dis joint called the Lucky Monkey or something like dat to star up my girl Jenya's homie. These boys were mad steppin', too, cause they was keepin' errybody up in da block on lock for the night. So me and my homies lit out da streets like we was tryin' to beat da fuzz home, nahmean? Anyway, we found this place after a day on the way and it was boarded up tighter than yo pappy's house afta he blew all his bacon at the gambling houses. We bust up in dis joint like we tryna aggressively sell fruit juice to kids. Dem punks be all like, 'New digs, who dis?' So we were like, 'Word to your mother.' And we capped those fools.
It was at some point after dat little scuffle that I realized all my homies left me. I was standing around like a dope looking a fool when my side chick Harriet walk up and be like, 'Yo, what up, G?' So I told her what was up, but she didn't like dat. Den dis other dude walk up like a boss and jus' ask wussup, so I told him there were some bad dudes inside and we gotta mop up. Dis dude, my new dude, just like, 'aight.' And we rolled out like we got heat to beat the whole street.
You wouldn't believe what was up in dat crib, homies. Dey was monkeys up in da trees and stuff. Like, we talkin' some real jungle book stuff. Dey was big, too. Like, bigga than two dudes put together. So we mop up like real G's, and the new homie even gets piledrived into a bench from three stories up and dusts off his shoulders like it ain't no thang. Da biggest monkey start talking, sayin', 'Ay, yo, wussup? My name is Tongue Eater.' I ain't down with no dude that call himself Tongue Eater, so we dropped him hard. One o' my otha homies that ditched come back, but I let him slide. We go down to tha basement next and find out our girl Jenya's bro done lost his head and his tongue. We do our best to get him cleaned up to go home so his homies can pay their respects fo real. We later pour one out for da homie.
We find out dem otha' punks took off with some juju wands we need to keep our turf from gettin' drowned, so we take off to find those gutless thieves but da trail go colder than yo mama's meatloaf. So we try'n get some info-mation from some sly dudes and ask our RIP'ed homie what he knew befo' dat nasty dude Tongue Eater did him dirty like dat. We find out some stuff and promise my girl Jenya we gon' do her and her daisy pushin' homie proud.
So, we 'bout to do some dangerous business, nahmean? It about to get real. We gon' strap up and hit da block hard. It gon' get cray. And when it's all ova, we gon' save the day.
Tell ya homies the Crew of Next-Level Homies 'bout to clean up ya block. Dig it?
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That concludes tonight's bizarre and nonsensical show of oddities and perplexion. I'll no more harass you with these eldritch seemings and mismanaged narratives. Rush them from your minds, and sleep well knowing that time and space and balance are restored to our sleepy little perceptibility. Go peacefully this night in the comforting understanding that the Heroes have prevailed once again and stand ready to resist Evil tomorrow as well.
Go well, friends. Cherish those close to you and honor your fallen comrades.
~M
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Post by IcarusIX on May 26, 2018 20:24:08 GMT -5
We made a new friend! I think he fits in quite well. He's nothing like he's supposed to be, and that means he's just like the rest of us. I believe his intention is to be sneaky and subtle, but he's incredibly straightforward and highly noticeable. Still, all's well that entertains well.
It was after that happy recruitment that we learned of where the Ebon Triad were hiding, and they likely had those Control Water wands that we needed. I bet you cannot possibly guess what was to come next. No, seriously. I'm so certain that you've never heard of anything like this. The very next thing we did has never occurred, not only in the history of the Band of Valor but also in the history of the world. The next words I utter will shock you to your core. Prepare thyselves, dear audience!
We went into the deep.
To be fair, this time it was into a lava tube! So, you know. Neat. Right? How often does one obtain the chance to traverse the empty, cooled hollow of a volcano's lava tube? Quite novel.
We found ourselves in front of a rather large cavern. Gargantuan, actually. It seemed to house a small city, even, though the city looked long abandoned and quite run down. There was a lake at the base of the cavern, covered in softly glowing algae. It looked quite peaceful, in truth, even if something sinister lurked beneath that soft and squishy blanket of serenity. Right before the cliff drop down to the lake, we found a guardhouse of some sort. It was occupied, strangely, so we unburdened the occupants of their duties. Yes, you heard me say it. Duties.
There was a cage hanging on a rope that descended down to the base of the small city on the other side of the cavern. We decided to hop in and let our avian friend turn the winch. It's mighty hard to do with hollow bones, but he strove valiantly for us. Sadly, all that striving was in vain. The rope snapped and sent us plummeting into the lake. To make a long story short, my allies chose to take the longer swim toward the city while I decided to make for the nearest shore back the way we came. That was a foolish mistake on my part, as the near shore turned out to be littered with many, many remains. The not good kind of remains. I'm trying to say people. The near shore was littered with people remains. Deciding I'd rather not turn into monster waste, I very quickly decided to make the (now) long(er) swim to the far shore. The unseen but assuredly terrible beast beneath the water almost managed to catch me, but I kicked my way to freedom with no small amount of desperate urgency.
The far shore saw us rest slightly and clean our clothes. We decided to work our way up into the city, starting from the nearest building available. There were some brigands inside, almost certainly members of the Ebon Triad, so we extended our courtesies again as we had to the guards above. It was after that events turned toward the dire. And the heroic.
One of the hallways we decided to explore led us to a large tunnel in what appeared to be a storage room. It was overrun with webs. Naturally, we decided to burn the webs. That went fantastically. No, truly. It did. What was not fantastic was the army of angry spider monsters that managed to survive the flames. Now, I'm certain that I've prepared you for tales of truly bizarre creatures. I know I have. We've spoken of Rat-Men and a giant baboon that called himself Tongue Eater. In my heart of hearts, I'm certain you've visualized even the strangest creatures I've described for you. But what came out of that tunnel that day (or was it night?) set my spine to shaking like a rattle clutched tightly in the fist of a hyper baby.
Spider Men. Man Spiders. Spiders that walk like men. Men that look like spiders. Whatever you imagine those as, I assure you the reality is worse. These were, of course, accompanied by regular spiders. And by regular, I mean that they were each the size of a horse. What didn't help was the venom that the Spider-People-Hybrids were hitting some of us with. Before more than a minute had gone by, half of us were suffering greatly and beginning to lag in the fight. As such, it was the perfect time for the Queen of these monstrosities to arrive. She easily could have stood taller than twenty feet high if the ceilings hadn't stopped her. Great protrusions of spikes rose from her carapace armored limbs. If that's not enough, she shot her fangs at me and pulled me in like a fish.
With luck, we defeated our disgusting enemies and went to find safety for the night to rest. Let it be said that we shall be more cautious of giant spiders from now on. I've no idea if that will actually hold true, but let it be said anyway.
That's all for this night, friends. Sleep well and don't let the nightmarish spider-hybrids bite.
~M
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Post by IcarusIX on May 30, 2018 16:44:51 GMT -5
Oh, what fun we've had.
We spent the night resting in the same room where we had "relieved some guards of their responsibilities." Of course, we also boarded it up just in case. Then we spent some more time exploring the complex we were in. We found some neat stuff, but mostly money. I think I speak for all of us when I say we're okay with that.
Our exploration led us to what seemed to be a small mess hall. Grogrot, being the big damn hero that he is, strode inside and sat down like the table belonged to him. The guards inside immediately started feeding him and Jimmic large platters of hamburger sandwiches. The rest of us joined in, Harriett started plucking out a tune, and it was almost a party. Sadly, someone evil and cold-hearted stepped out of a nearby room that had previously been locked. She wore spiked armor and had red hair. Bingo! We found our target. She threatened her guards by telling them that they were all dead men if they didn't attack us.
Apparently one spikey-armored red headed woman is supposed to be scarier than an Orc carrying an intelligent Mimic, a few Spell Casters, a Giant Spider, and a tiny man that likes to stab people from the shadows. I think these guards made a lot of poor life decisions leading up to their last poor life decision. We immediately divested them of their responsibilities.
This sneaky, terrible little caster came out of nowhere and sent a powerful bolt of lightning barreling through the hallway leading to the mess hall. He immolated two of his own allies first, but he also managed to hurt three more of us very badly, including myself. I knew right away that we were dealing with someone in a whole other class. Weaving my own magic to veil myself from all mundane sight, I withdrew around the corner and staged myself for my own attack against the little man. Burned, half-paralyzed by the power of the energy that had coursed through me, my skin still smoking, I summoned every last vestige of energy that I had and directed it at the little caster. The ensuing blast of electric energy matched, nay, exceeded the little caster's own. When the bright flash of light created by my spell receded, the only evidence that could be found of the little man was a small pile of ash and a shadow burned into the wall behind him.
With that done, I went to find Grogrot. He was locked in the woman's room with her. We tried to get in, but our initial attempts were fairly unsuccessful. Apparently, things were going no better for the woman. Unsurprising, that. Jimmic had stolen her mace and Grogrot was punishing her badly. One can't say the woman didn't have an out--- in typical Grogrot fashion, the Orc was still trying to flirt with her even as he beat her nearly to pulp. Once the door was opened, I leaped inside to help my friend. That didn't go well, but I don't remember what happened next. I'm told it wasn't pretty. We all survived, however, and the red headed woman did not. Shame. Interrogation has proven quite useful in our quests so far, but not all knowledge is available to everyone.
After that, we found a strange workshop. I realized that the parts left on the tables in the center were scraps left over from some kind of strange, arcane machine. Its purpose remains unknown. We intruded upon a poor creature while we were in there, but Grogrot (who'd run off already for some reason) wasn't there to make friends so I did it instead. I found out the poor thing had no name, which is a tragedy, so I asked it to choose a name and it chose the name "Bogg." Once I caught a glimpse of it, I realized we were dealing with a Mudslaad! How exciting! I convinced it to follow us and be our friend. Within an hour of further exploration of the complex, there were quite a few more Mudslaads following us, all identical. They kept saying, "We are Bogg." I feel like that might be some kind of licensing issue with something I've heard a few thousand times up in Cauldron, but we'll burn that bridge when we get to it.
Now we have to discover a way out of this dingy old place. Wish us luck!
~M
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Post by IcarusIX on Jun 8, 2018 22:18:24 GMT -5
Well, imagine. As I'm pacing the halls in an evil cult hideout. And I can't help but to feel, No, I can't help but to feel spikes will come out of the floor.
What a terrible setting! What a terrible setting, with archers on balconies above. And, yes, but what a shame. What a shame my poor friends have to walk on the floor.
I chime in, Haven't you people ever heard of Avoiding damage from the floor? No, it's much better to face these kinds of things With a sense of magnanimous understanding.
Oh, well, in fact. Well, I'll look at it this way. I mean, technically our party is saved. Well, this calls for a toast. So, pour the champagne. Pour the champagne!
I chime in with a, Haven't you people ever heard of Going through the same damn door? No, it's much better to face these kinds of things With a sense of greedy experience hogging.
Again
I chime in, Haven't you people ever heard of An undead dinosaur? No, it's much better to face these things with a spell of powerful, destructive force
I chime in, Haven't you people ever heard of Not bringing undead ogres to our door? No, it's much better to face these things with a Sense of poise and rationality (think of the XP!)
Again!
Oh, well imagine. As I'm pacing the halls in an evil cult hideout I can't help but to hear. No, I can't help but to hear an exchanging of words.
"What a terrible lich-lord! What a terrible lich-lord!" Says an invisible speaker And, yes, but what a shame What a shame the lich was instead just a hecuva.
I chime in with a, Haven't you people ever heard of Drakthar the Vampire Lord? No, it's much better that they haven't and never will
Oh, well, in fact. Well, I'll look at it this way. I mean, technically the control-water wand was saved! Well, this calls for a toast! So pour the champagne. Pour the Champagne du le Stomp!
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Post by IcarusIX on Jun 16, 2018 22:56:22 GMT -5
Fret not, dear audience! The heroes have returned! But how, you might ask? Allow me to weave the tale.
It all began with another little nap in the deep, dark caverns of the volcanic pit below. Our lovely band of e'er do-wells decided to meander over to a new section of the caves in hopes of discovering the final wands. Wouldn't you know it, we found a chest sitting in the middle of a room all by itself. Since investigating that went so well the first time, we went for it again with gusto. Unfortunately, this time the chest was not a mimic. It was, however, guarded by two zombies. Now, the average audience member might think to themselves at this point, "Why, Messiah, that doesn't sound so bad? Aren't the lot of you quite experienced at slaying zombies by now?" And normally you'd be quite right, average audience member. But those among you who have been around for quite a few shows at this point will, in your well earned wisdom, instead ask, "What else?"
What else indeed. The zombies were made of worms. Glowing worms. Hideous, disgusting, ugly worms that were flush with putrid light. Things got a bit sticky from there. Our avian friend almost ate a few of the worms, but luckily decided that life was still worth living after all and skipped that option. I tried to cast spells from high above, but I'm afraid to admit that my aim was off on account of not looking directly at the repulsive creatures. In the end, every worm had to be burned.
We shortly after found the two remaining wands that had thus far eluded us!
Making all due haste back to the city, we arrived triumphant with every wand. Jenya quickly incited us all to action so that the city might be saved! Each of us went to a different temple and sought the help of various spell casters that could aid us in the ritual to use the Control Water Wands. However, the followers of Wee Jas almost held back on us. As if they, too, wouldn't drown! In any case, we incensed them enough to help. I even got to participate in the ritual myself! At last, my destiny as Messiah was beginning to cement in the annals of history.
"What else?"
Ah, the discerning audience member is ever keen. Sharp of wit and quick of mind! Yes, what else. Well, dear audience, every hero must have their dark hour. Or, in many cases, dark hours. You see, it is at this stage that any heroic figure must face ostensibly their greatest challenge. A darkness so deep, so inviolable, so vile, that even our great hero must become lost in it. This is the darkness within, dear audience, and it is a burden that will either crush or define the hero.
If you remember, there was a point where we fought a large, talking baboon. It was a Were-Baboon. It bit me. On that fateful day, I received the curse and fought the urges within me. That was not so unwise as was failing to tell my allies about the predicament. As such, someone else paid the heavy toll for my folly. During the night, I became such a terrifying creature and prowled about the city until I found my victim. His death was not unnoticed, but when I woke in the morning I remembered nothing of the act. I woke confused, covered in blood and dirt and bits of fur. I stole down to the lake to bathe, hidden by my magics. It was after I returned that two of my fellows barged into my room (rudely, even if rightfully) unannounced. They asked me many strange questions and it was then I knew that I was in some kind of trouble. With a tongue of silver, I convinced my fellows to leave me for the time being (this was also unwise of me) and fled away as quickly as I could (one might see a pattern emerging).
I imposed upon an old friend. He was very kind to me and I owe him greatly. The following chain of unfortunate events belong wholly to myself in fault, and this estranged ally of mine cannot be put to blame for anything that followed. Night came and I once again changed. Out of my mind, I stalked the city in search for more prey. Luckily, my glowing, esteemed companions had set a trap to capture me. Apparently I bit Grogrot. In fairness, our ever scrupulous larcenist nearly severed the cord of my life in twain with a single crossbow bolt. I was quickly overpowered (thanks to the courage, perseverance, and benevolence of my friends) and dragged to Jenya. She kept me in a cell overnight and all was explained to me in the morning. I still had no recollection of events, but, truthfully, I was too ashamed to admit that I had already pieced together (most of) what had happened. After being cured of this curse, I was given a grand labor in order to make up for all of the wrong I had wrought through both my ignorance and my negligence.
You see, dear audience, it is not just a wicked heart that can sow destruction and tragedy. No, even the most radiant of hearts, possessed of altruistic ambition, can let down everyone around them. It is not enough to mean well, my friends. Pride is a poisonous thorn in the vein of a hero. I tried to hide my shortcomings rather than face them, and it cost me. More importantly, it cost others even more.
It is difficult to say whether or not it is even possible to redeem oneself from such a fall. As the Messiah, though, it is my duty to try. It is my destiny to work in eternity toward it or die in the pursuit.
After my simian debacle, I had yet another issue to deal with. You see, dear audience, the Messiah is ever cognizant of the number of voices in his head. Yes, he knows them well. The timbre and tone of each voice. The patterns and rhythms of their speech. Each has their place, but there was an additional one that had been haunting him since returning from the depths on the latest excursion.
Using magic I had learned from the evil little wizard I'd vaporized, I silently and inconspicuously detected the thoughts of my invisible tormentor. Confirming its presence, I devised a plan to gather my friends in one place and ambush the parasite. Once they were all gathered, I cast a spell that allowed me to see the imp (the invisible voice that had also been tormenting the hecuva) and used my illustrious illusions to illustrate its position to my friends. It was rapidly dispensed with and all was well again in the chaotic but magnificent landscape of the Messiah's singularly unfathomable mind.
Harriett decided to throw a ball! It made sense that the Messiah was not invited, so I didn't push the matter. However, Grogrot brought me along as his "plus one." I arrived in a costume only just suitable enough to permit entry, but subdued enough in brilliant artistry to let the focus remain on Harriett for the night. It was at some juncture later on that Harriett handed to me the invitation that I must have misplaced, despite my having done nothing to earn such a generous offer. Regardless, I sent right away for Jenya to be my guest once again. She's an ever wonderful companion during celebrations, as well as my owing much to her. As do we all. I may be the Messiah, dear audience, and my friends may be heroes, but Jenya is the instrument by which the glorious and beneficent members of the gods instruct, guide, and assist your saviors.
The night was smoothly slipping into a comforting sense of peace, and one might have even been permitted to hope for some overdue rest, but then we heard a terrible scream from somewhere in the night. It sounded nearby, perhaps a street or two away, and thus the heroes (and yours truly) were once again compelled to action.
This tale, my dears, will continue later. For now, I bid you all a night of serenity and prosperity.
~M
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Post by IcarusIX on Jun 30, 2018 20:05:56 GMT -5
Okay, so, it was more than a street or two over. It was actually all the way across the street. What can I say? The screams were quite loud.
When we arrived to the area where the screaming had come from, we found a collapsed building. Now, I was already horrified. If the dear audience knows anything about what havoc a collapsed building can cause, they know that it is possibly as deadly as a fire. However, it was not a fire that had collapsed this building, nor even an earthquake. No, instead we found something gleaming golden lurking within the ruins. Something enormous. It emerged slowly, revealing an armored carapace much in the shape of a beetle. Its eyes dazzled with bizarre and entrancing light, which never affected my ever reliable mind but did instead afflict nearby citizens with varying forms of madness.
The crowds in the streets either stood around in a blank stupor or began to fight each other. The savagery was brutal and not at all entertaining. Immediately, we heroes knew we had to stop this raging Umberhulk and end its sinister spell upon our innocent neighbors.
At first, it was near impossible for the Messiah to engage the Umberhulk. Every time the Messiah valiantly leaped from rooftop to rooftop, searching for a tactical advantage like the military genius that he is, the over-sized Coleoptera would burrow its way underground and emerge elsewhere. With every move it made, the careless beast would collapse yet another building. Soon, its spell had begun to affect even a few of my own allies. One such ally, who is not to be named, dove from the sky to punch an old lady in the face. He nearly killed the poor woman. Very unheroic, but potentially redeemable considering the circumstances.
When at last the Umberhulk was slain, the damage and chaos had to be mitigated. As the only deserving candidate for our next Electoral cycle's choice for Lord-Mayor, our dear friend Grogrot stepped in and almost single-handedly funded the restoration of that section of town. It happened overnight. So beneficent and glorious is he, there was never any doubt that Grogrot should become Lord-Mayor and there never will be. Long live Lord-Mayor Grogrot!
I can't recall why, but we were invited to a party at the Cusp of Sunrise. Normally I'd never stoop so low in company and setting, but my friends wanted to go and there was an open bar. We were all highly overdressed, including our soon-to-be Lord-Mayor, but it turned out fine. The Lord Mayor incumbent was present, and we more or less managed to convince him that his time as Lord Mayor was rightfully coming to a close soon. Yes, he was quite supportive of the idea. I'm roughly five percent sure that's exactly how it went, because I'd had probably ten drinks by the time I spoke to the man. But I'm sure it's fine.
Anyway, apparently we were invited to this shabby party of wannabe social elites so that we could have a meeting with Davik Splintershield. He looked super old, but not to worry. He's actually just cursed. He'll die soon of unnatural causes instead of natural causes! Great news, I know. Who would want to die naturally? A natural death is a wasted death. Die with drama and glory, my friends!
Davik asked to see us because of all of the tales of our heroism. At last, recognition of our heroism was becoming appropriately frequent. He hired us to track down his son, Zenith, who'd been kidnapped from the Malachite Hold and taken to the Underdark. He instructed us to find something along the lines of "Ba'al Hammber Tomb." I'm sure we'll recognize it when we see it... According to Davik, a man named Crazy Jared living in the mountains to the North knew of a way into the Underdark. I have no idea why he's called Crazy Jared, because he is, in my eyes, definitely the most sane man I've ever met. And the illusions he's capable of! My word. Such splendor.
Unfortunately, Completely Sane Jared's totally real castle was being burned down by a dragon. Even more unfortunately, the dragon turned out to be real instead of an illusion. As usual, Grogrot did his thing and I think, if I remember correctly, the rest of us pretty much watched as it happened. With the dragon dead, we soon had directions to the entrance of the Underdark. We were to go to a place called "The Pit of Seven Jaws." I'm certain it's a lovely place. No being with seven jaws could ever be menacing. I mean, how would it even chew that many adventurers? The energy expenditure would be enormous. Likely the seven jaws in reference would belong to a creature that is very slow and peaceful, conserving its energy at all times and inclined to accept treats from wandering strangers. But alas, the Pit in question is likely named in a way evoking metaphor, thus rendering my musings as moot.
Also, there might have been a mention of Mind Flayers. So, you know. Wish us luck!
~M
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