5.04.2006
Day 4, Afternoon: Vrill Speaks
Okay Marivhon, you drink some of the memory tonic, and remember some stuff about your life before you were dead. It's a nice feeling and sort of motivates you to get out of the underworld.
"Alright, well, if Abbey told you there's an open gate in Terminal B, I guess that's where we should go. If she was able to bring you back from being killed by the death knight..." Vrill pauses here and suppresses a smirk. "If she brought you back, then she's pretty good and- hmm. Would be sufficiently powerful to utilize the power of the White Book, I guess. That's no good at all. The White Book is how I brought her back in the first place." Vrill says these last few sentences a bit more quietly, almost just thinking out loud.
"So look, if we get out of here, odds are we'll all be zombies up in Grito. So then I'll just get the White Book myself out of storage and use it to restore you all to flesh and blood. I promise, scout's honor and all that. Just give me a couple days to get things together after I neutralize Abbey. She can't harm me, so it won't be a problem."
Vrill leans back in the chair and thinks for a second about plans. You can almost see plans and schemes churning around in his brain.
"So we should get going, because Terminal B won't be a lot of fun. I've heard comparisons to Limbo, the Abyss, and some dorky place called the Iron Labyrinth. Ron, if you want to come along," Vrill pauses and searches for the right phrase. "Well, I'm sure... I'm sure JESUS could lend a hand." Vrill rolls his eyes, but Ron Ball doesn't notice. Just nods thoughtfully, finishes the last fry, and licks his fingers. "Sure Greg," says Ron. "Let's go find JESUS."
Vrill then answers your questions, sort of.
"The Monks of Progress. I don't... I don't really know that much about those guys. I read Mysterious X's autobiography. It's pretty good, actually, very... very current and written in an accessible style. I like what he does with starting each chapter with a zen koan or a haiku or something. Isn't your pal Jooka or whoever one of them? Ask him about this stuff. They're unrelated- I think Mysterious X just took advantage of a geo-political situation to seize control of Durth. Sounds like they've got a stockpile of useful crap in their lair though..." Vrill gets a little thoughtful again.
"And, well, okay, the Knights of Armek. Well, here's what I know. My daughter- when she was still my daughter- had the gift of prophecy. And she drew a picture one day. But it was different than most pictures your daughter draws, family, the dogs, owlbears, the sun, that kind of crap. It was an army of knights butchering Grito. I asked her about it, and she pointed into the sky and said 'ARMEK' or something close to that."
"And, well, that's about all I know. Learned later that they're basically souped-up little Iron Golems; I learned that from some necromantic ritual... well, never mind the details. But you need magic weapons to hit them, and spells themselves aren't very good... just like golems. They come from some other dimension, they were created by some arch-mage lich or something like that, it sounds suspiciously like the Githyanki origins story to me; I think your DM needs to put down the Fiend Folio, which everyone agrees was the worst of the core books. From reading your, uh, your blog... it looks like you guys met one yourselves and killed it, so maybe there's some hope. When I get more than 30-frickin-minutes of internet time on a faster connection, I'll re-read your stu... I'll take another look at your blog for some more clues. But I don't know what they're doing, don't know how they came to Greyhelm, any of that. If you recall, my research was, mm... interrupted," he concludes somewhat bitterly.
"Oh, and Marivhon? I'm not really your father. Didn't you read my blog? Ugh, don't... don't hug me. Great, yeah, thanks."
"Alright, well, if Abbey told you there's an open gate in Terminal B, I guess that's where we should go. If she was able to bring you back from being killed by the death knight..." Vrill pauses here and suppresses a smirk. "If she brought you back, then she's pretty good and- hmm. Would be sufficiently powerful to utilize the power of the White Book, I guess. That's no good at all. The White Book is how I brought her back in the first place." Vrill says these last few sentences a bit more quietly, almost just thinking out loud.
"So look, if we get out of here, odds are we'll all be zombies up in Grito. So then I'll just get the White Book myself out of storage and use it to restore you all to flesh and blood. I promise, scout's honor and all that. Just give me a couple days to get things together after I neutralize Abbey. She can't harm me, so it won't be a problem."
Vrill leans back in the chair and thinks for a second about plans. You can almost see plans and schemes churning around in his brain.
"So we should get going, because Terminal B won't be a lot of fun. I've heard comparisons to Limbo, the Abyss, and some dorky place called the Iron Labyrinth. Ron, if you want to come along," Vrill pauses and searches for the right phrase. "Well, I'm sure... I'm sure JESUS could lend a hand." Vrill rolls his eyes, but Ron Ball doesn't notice. Just nods thoughtfully, finishes the last fry, and licks his fingers. "Sure Greg," says Ron. "Let's go find JESUS."
Vrill then answers your questions, sort of.
"The Monks of Progress. I don't... I don't really know that much about those guys. I read Mysterious X's autobiography. It's pretty good, actually, very... very current and written in an accessible style. I like what he does with starting each chapter with a zen koan or a haiku or something. Isn't your pal Jooka or whoever one of them? Ask him about this stuff. They're unrelated- I think Mysterious X just took advantage of a geo-political situation to seize control of Durth. Sounds like they've got a stockpile of useful crap in their lair though..." Vrill gets a little thoughtful again.
"And, well, okay, the Knights of Armek. Well, here's what I know. My daughter- when she was still my daughter- had the gift of prophecy. And she drew a picture one day. But it was different than most pictures your daughter draws, family, the dogs, owlbears, the sun, that kind of crap. It was an army of knights butchering Grito. I asked her about it, and she pointed into the sky and said 'ARMEK' or something close to that."
"And, well, that's about all I know. Learned later that they're basically souped-up little Iron Golems; I learned that from some necromantic ritual... well, never mind the details. But you need magic weapons to hit them, and spells themselves aren't very good... just like golems. They come from some other dimension, they were created by some arch-mage lich or something like that, it sounds suspiciously like the Githyanki origins story to me; I think your DM needs to put down the Fiend Folio, which everyone agrees was the worst of the core books. From reading your, uh, your blog... it looks like you guys met one yourselves and killed it, so maybe there's some hope. When I get more than 30-frickin-minutes of internet time on a faster connection, I'll re-read your stu... I'll take another look at your blog for some more clues. But I don't know what they're doing, don't know how they came to Greyhelm, any of that. If you recall, my research was, mm... interrupted," he concludes somewhat bitterly.
"Oh, and Marivhon? I'm not really your father. Didn't you read my blog? Ugh, don't... don't hug me. Great, yeah, thanks."
