8.07.2005
INTERLUDE: In the Service of the Slime Lord
The Ochre Jelly stole quietly through the caverns, grinning evilly as it lugged its great prize behind it. True, his faithful gelatinous steed had been slain by the awful Shaped Ones, but he was sure his great master would grant him another, even more powerful, for the holy gift he was bringing for his master's glory.
OJ made haste through odd passages, forgoing the tiny cracks and holes he would prefer to take, being formless, because he must deliver his prize. Slinking through strange, ancient tunnels, carved long ago by eldritch, alien limbs, the warped, non-Euclidean geometry of the deep caverns might drive a man mad! But OJ was no man, no cursed Shaped One, he was one of the eternal, the Formless, and their time was coming. He could just smell it.
After hours? Days? What is time to an ochre jelly? OJ found himself entering the deepest, dankest, rankest cavern of them all, dripping with primodial ooze and ancient, inhuman intelligence. He was in the presence of the Master.
"Oh great one," burbled OJ in the secret language of the Formless. "I bring you a relic of the Shaped, stolen from a priest of one of their unholy gods, a god you will shortly crush under your feet, er, under your... self."
OJ humbly lay the helm at the feet of The Master and slinked away; he knew his Master's whims well enough that if he wish to stay disambiguated from the Spawning Pool, he should get the hell away, just in case.
The Master, with innumerable eyes forming in his grotesque formless, gazed at the Helm before him. Sixteen mouths full of fangs transiently formed, grinned, and disappeared back into the ooze.
"Yes... YES!" hissed the Master. "You will be rewarded, OJ, with a Cloak of the Brown Mold. I welcome this gift... and I know just the place for it! Heh heh."
The Master was on a roll, so he continued his rant. "Yes, as it was written in the Book of Slime, I, Jubilex, lord of ooze, lord of rot, I shall smear the Shaped Ones off the face of the earth and take my place as lord! With my slimes, my spawning pool, and my -8 AC, I am invincible! Yes!"
OJ was pleased with himself. As he wrapped the brown cloak around himself, he smiled, knowing that this was just the beginning, and that there was great things in store for a humble ochre jelly. Great things indeed.
OJ made haste through odd passages, forgoing the tiny cracks and holes he would prefer to take, being formless, because he must deliver his prize. Slinking through strange, ancient tunnels, carved long ago by eldritch, alien limbs, the warped, non-Euclidean geometry of the deep caverns might drive a man mad! But OJ was no man, no cursed Shaped One, he was one of the eternal, the Formless, and their time was coming. He could just smell it.
After hours? Days? What is time to an ochre jelly? OJ found himself entering the deepest, dankest, rankest cavern of them all, dripping with primodial ooze and ancient, inhuman intelligence. He was in the presence of the Master.
"Oh great one," burbled OJ in the secret language of the Formless. "I bring you a relic of the Shaped, stolen from a priest of one of their unholy gods, a god you will shortly crush under your feet, er, under your... self."
OJ humbly lay the helm at the feet of The Master and slinked away; he knew his Master's whims well enough that if he wish to stay disambiguated from the Spawning Pool, he should get the hell away, just in case.
The Master, with innumerable eyes forming in his grotesque formless, gazed at the Helm before him. Sixteen mouths full of fangs transiently formed, grinned, and disappeared back into the ooze.
"Yes... YES!" hissed the Master. "You will be rewarded, OJ, with a Cloak of the Brown Mold. I welcome this gift... and I know just the place for it! Heh heh."
The Master was on a roll, so he continued his rant. "Yes, as it was written in the Book of Slime, I, Jubilex, lord of ooze, lord of rot, I shall smear the Shaped Ones off the face of the earth and take my place as lord! With my slimes, my spawning pool, and my -8 AC, I am invincible! Yes!"
OJ was pleased with himself. As he wrapped the brown cloak around himself, he smiled, knowing that this was just the beginning, and that there was great things in store for a humble ochre jelly. Great things indeed.
