4.14.2007
Azoth
If I'm reading right, Dag wasn't able to grab the princess and run. Being as the only thing I'm sure of is that I trust neither Bekkers, I grab her and run, at least to somehwere I can stash her where she'll be safe-- I try to stay in view of the battle so I can pop back in and help if need be-- we still have all our weapons, right? Or did those get yoinked?
Labels: I'm helping
Whoa Cowboy
Huh, okay.
Problem with Phantastic Force is that it's silent. You silently blast the shotgun... I'm gonna roll disbelief checks.
Two guys make it, including the Ambassador (AB_B). So, nuts not illusionary shot off. The three other guys duck for cover, and are momentarily confused this round as to why their commander's still standing. "Guy's got balls of steel," one of em hisses.
Dag, the Ambassador (AB_A) cries out in pain as you slash him open. You drop him. He drops the Princess. You grab her and make a run for it... but, you know, you've already acted this round.
Meaning AB_B and his pal both go for you. AB_B is a stand-up member of the community and attacks you to subdue. (I guess we can just call him AB now, as the other one lies in a pool of blood and filth.) The other guy fires his crossbow. You take 12 hp dmg.
Problem with Phantastic Force is that it's silent. You silently blast the shotgun... I'm gonna roll disbelief checks.
Two guys make it, including the Ambassador (AB_B). So, nuts not illusionary shot off. The three other guys duck for cover, and are momentarily confused this round as to why their commander's still standing. "Guy's got balls of steel," one of em hisses.
Dag, the Ambassador (AB_A) cries out in pain as you slash him open. You drop him. He drops the Princess. You grab her and make a run for it... but, you know, you've already acted this round.
Meaning AB_B and his pal both go for you. AB_B is a stand-up member of the community and attacks you to subdue. (I guess we can just call him AB now, as the other one lies in a pool of blood and filth.) The other guy fires his crossbow. You take 12 hp dmg.
Labels: don't confuse them with EB who's still rockin 1 HD in the backpack
4.13.2007
Corpse.
Theo perhaps in your head you hear-
"You guys just attacked 2 NPCs, very brave indeed!"
Maybe I'm like Qui Gon, or Obi Wan or something.
"You guys just attacked 2 NPCs, very brave indeed!"
Maybe I'm like Qui Gon, or Obi Wan or something.
Labels: 2(NPC)+PC=-2(PC)
Dag
Damn it. Here we go Koppel. You always keep things interesting.
When Koppel "Pulls the trigger" on AB_B,
I turn and swing on AB_A:
BR 18 for 6 (BR4 +2)
BR 17 for 5 (BR3 +2)
If I get surprise, I hope to get his hand off the princess. I pick her up and make a break for it with her on my shoulder.
Checks, if you need them:
Dex: 6 (made by 10)
Str: 13 (made by 2)
Con: 7 (made by 5)
I don't know where I'm running, but somewhere other than here...
When Koppel "Pulls the trigger" on AB_B,
I turn and swing on AB_A:
BR 18 for 6 (BR4 +2)
BR 17 for 5 (BR3 +2)
If I get surprise, I hope to get his hand off the princess. I pick her up and make a break for it with her on my shoulder.
Checks, if you need them:
Dex: 6 (made by 10)
Str: 13 (made by 2)
Con: 7 (made by 5)
I don't know where I'm running, but somewhere other than here...
Labels: oh shit, what have I done?
Theodore Koppel
Wow, I just don't know who to believe. -Both Ambassadors sound so seedy.
Digging deep, I lower my gun.
Bekkers A did send us to Twilos. ...But, Patrick Swayze?! I've seen Roadhouse!
I blast AB_B in the Nuts!!!!
Digging deep, I lower my gun.
Bekkers A did send us to Twilos. ...But, Patrick Swayze?! I've seen Roadhouse!
I blast AB_B in the Nuts!!!!
Pair Of Deuces
Okay, there seems to be some confusion.
There are two guys here, each claiming to be named 'Ambassador Bekkers'.
AB_A is right next to you. He's the guy who you sailed to Gorgos with in the beginning of the adventure. He's the guy who tried to kill you in Mammon's Point. He may be a creepy pedo and claims to love the Princess, whom he is leading by the hand. He's disheveled, unpleasant, a bit crazed, and unarmed.
AB_B is married with two kids. He's just a hair shy of 6 foot, and played halfback on the high school team, the Furious Jaguars. He is well-groomed, and seems to be the leader of a group of Onze guardsmen. His wife Brenda works at home for an internet company called Ads2U, and he's got pictures of his two daughters in his wallet from when they all went here to FPI before it got bad. His favorite TV shows are 24 and America's Next Top Model, but only really the first season because the chicks were so hot. He has a sword that he is pointing at you.
...
Theo, you heft your illusionary shotgun at AB_B and company.
AB_B frowns. "Look, Mr. Koppel, this guy hijacked a royal vessel, murdered the Prince, and now is kidnapping the Princess. For what awful end I dare not guess. Didn't he get you thrown in the Twilos Prison City also? Thought I heard something about that. Help us take this guy down- looks like it shouldn't be that hard- and we'll all get the Princess back to safety. This," motioning around the Fairy Paradise Island, "is far from safe. God, what happened to this place?"
You ask the Princess what she wants. "I... I don't know where I am... I don't know what's..." she manages to get out. She seems feverish and maybe delusional.
AB_B frowns, looking at your shotgun.
AB_B: "Well, what are you gonna do with that thing?" He sheathes his weapon, and begins to walk towards you, slowly.
"Now, I know you don't really want to hurt anyone. You'll just be hurting yourself. C'mon Theodore, you don't need a gun to be a man." Quietly but forcefully, like Patrick Swayze might say. Cut to a closeup of a concerned looking attractive blonde woman.
Takes another step slowly. Reaches out his hand. "Give me the gun, Theodore. You don't want to do this. Just... give me the gun." Looking at you sternly.
...
AB_A: "Yes, yes you do. Blast his fucking nuts off."
There are two guys here, each claiming to be named 'Ambassador Bekkers'.
AB_A is right next to you. He's the guy who you sailed to Gorgos with in the beginning of the adventure. He's the guy who tried to kill you in Mammon's Point. He may be a creepy pedo and claims to love the Princess, whom he is leading by the hand. He's disheveled, unpleasant, a bit crazed, and unarmed.
AB_B is married with two kids. He's just a hair shy of 6 foot, and played halfback on the high school team, the Furious Jaguars. He is well-groomed, and seems to be the leader of a group of Onze guardsmen. His wife Brenda works at home for an internet company called Ads2U, and he's got pictures of his two daughters in his wallet from when they all went here to FPI before it got bad. His favorite TV shows are 24 and America's Next Top Model, but only really the first season because the chicks were so hot. He has a sword that he is pointing at you.
...
Theo, you heft your illusionary shotgun at AB_B and company.
AB_B frowns. "Look, Mr. Koppel, this guy hijacked a royal vessel, murdered the Prince, and now is kidnapping the Princess. For what awful end I dare not guess. Didn't he get you thrown in the Twilos Prison City also? Thought I heard something about that. Help us take this guy down- looks like it shouldn't be that hard- and we'll all get the Princess back to safety. This," motioning around the Fairy Paradise Island, "is far from safe. God, what happened to this place?"
You ask the Princess what she wants. "I... I don't know where I am... I don't know what's..." she manages to get out. She seems feverish and maybe delusional.
AB_B frowns, looking at your shotgun.
AB_B: "Well, what are you gonna do with that thing?" He sheathes his weapon, and begins to walk towards you, slowly.
"Now, I know you don't really want to hurt anyone. You'll just be hurting yourself. C'mon Theodore, you don't need a gun to be a man." Quietly but forcefully, like Patrick Swayze might say. Cut to a closeup of a concerned looking attractive blonde woman.
Takes another step slowly. Reaches out his hand. "Give me the gun, Theodore. You don't want to do this. Just... give me the gun." Looking at you sternly.
...
AB_A: "Yes, yes you do. Blast his fucking nuts off."
4.12.2007
Dag
Good call TK. and hey wait a second KT, I can do some damage!
With slow hands raised, palms extended, in a peaceful gesture: "Nobody here is looking for a fight... let's talk about this, surely you will trust a man of the cloth to mediate this situation" (BR9 on the CH check)
Rob, we have met this buy before, have we not? Do we or do we not know who the real bekkers is?
aw shit... Twilos messed with my head... I can't remember anything, and don't have a lot of time to go back and read...
"Will the real slim Bekkers please stand up?"
With slow hands raised, palms extended, in a peaceful gesture: "Nobody here is looking for a fight... let's talk about this, surely you will trust a man of the cloth to mediate this situation" (BR9 on the CH check)
Rob, we have met this buy before, have we not? Do we or do we not know who the real bekkers is?
aw shit... Twilos messed with my head... I can't remember anything, and don't have a lot of time to go back and read...
"Will the real slim Bekkers please stand up?"
Theodore Koppel
Wow, I could be rich!
OK, first the d20... BR:3. Hah! Things are looking good! Now d100, BR:73! That's 24.3 Platinum!? That's like 243 gold, right? -I'm fucking loaded!
I suppose I become visible after some time.
But, to the matter at hand: I'm not so sure I've received Tut's message. However, I also want to know which Bekkers did the juicing. If it's our guy, I do the following:
I Phantasmal Force myself drawing a double-barrel shotgun from over my shoulder.
Pointing it at the lead guard: "Ok, boys, there seems to be some sort of misunderstanding here. Why don't you all just lower your weapons, and we'll sort this out. -Princess, which Bekkers do you want to go with?"
OK, first the d20... BR:3. Hah! Things are looking good! Now d100, BR:73! That's 24.3 Platinum!? That's like 243 gold, right? -I'm fucking loaded!
I suppose I become visible after some time.
But, to the matter at hand: I'm not so sure I've received Tut's message. However, I also want to know which Bekkers did the juicing. If it's our guy, I do the following:
I Phantasmal Force myself drawing a double-barrel shotgun from over my shoulder.
Pointing it at the lead guard: "Ok, boys, there seems to be some sort of misunderstanding here. Why don't you all just lower your weapons, and we'll sort this out. -Princess, which Bekkers do you want to go with?"
KT
You should have saved this twist for after tax season.
I telepathically communicate to my other party members--"these guards probably aren't that tough. I think Beakers story might be right, but he's a pedo. This city is really ugly too, but then again, if he were fleeing the king, he'd probably have to go to some horrible place. We can either be like 'we didn't believe him, and we were just keeping track of him,' or be like 'screw you guys, eat sword.' Except, now we don't really have anyone who can do any damage."
Which Ambassador was the one that was juicing the Prince? The one from the airship, or the "new" one?
I telepathically communicate to my other party members--"these guards probably aren't that tough. I think Beakers story might be right, but he's a pedo. This city is really ugly too, but then again, if he were fleeing the king, he'd probably have to go to some horrible place. We can either be like 'we didn't believe him, and we were just keeping track of him,' or be like 'screw you guys, eat sword.' Except, now we don't really have anyone who can do any damage."
Which Ambassador was the one that was juicing the Prince? The one from the airship, or the "new" one?
A Matrix Lover Would Say: Red Pill Or Blue Pill?
I wonder how many more hits we're going to get from Tut's black power fist pump. How's it going everyone? This is just a lousy Dungeons and Dragons website. Please move on.
...
Anyway, your fate is sealed. But first, Theo picks poor Nameless's pockets.
Nice dude. You find a lucky rabbit's foot (two kinds of irony goin' on there, huh?). You also find (1d100 divided by 1d20) platinum. Who knows, you could be rich! You also find three hits of a brutal steroid known as 'plochops 3'.
...
The CoCs' airship flies to the Fairy Paradise Island. Takes a few days. Nameless doesn't really get better. The FPI looks like... well, maybe not exactly what you expected.
The Fairy Paradise Island is brown and devoid of plant life. The waters surrounding it, especially the only 'city', are sludge brown, and a larger circle of red bacterial bloom surrounds the polluted bay. The city is an enormous- miles in size- geodesic dome. Unbelievable, really. But it's true! More like a geodesic disk, as the width must be 10 miles or so, but the height only goes up maybe half a mile.
The airship docks at a hanger outside. As the door opens, god what a fucking stink. The Fairy Paradise Island smells like shit.
Full of people. Crowded as hell. Easily the busiest, most bustling, awful 'city' you've ever been in. The place is like a ghetto methadone clinic. Most of the people wandering around are rolling or in the early, hungry, hunting stages of withdrawal. Twilos was pristine compared to this. At least Twilos seemed to have a bunch of interested governing parties and an organized garbage service.
Not so, these fairies.
And yeah, there are fairies. Although they're the minority. Winged guys and gals, fluttering around, like it's 7 AM and the rave just closed, but they're still hyped on e and meth.
...
The good news is, it looks like no one gives a shit who you are here. That
includes the CoCs, who wander off to get baked. The inside of the dome, where you are now headed, is basically like Blade Runner or something. A giant ghetto drugged-out arcology is where you are.
The neutral news is, is that Her Highness is finally non-catatonic. She's barely conscious, but conscious nonetheless, and seems a bit befuddled and unclear of what's going on. Your new pal Ambassador Crazy Pedo leads her by the hand.
The bad news is, you don't get far before it turns out I lied to you. Looks like someone here actually does care who you are and what you're doing. Just past the drydocks, stepping into the street in front of you, are five guys wearing the colors of the Onze Guard. Just like you used to have. They seem moderately well armed and competent, and certainly not cracked out of their heads.
The leader introduces himself. "Allow me to introduce myself. I'm Ambassador Bekkers." What? The four guards draw their weapons and circle around the... the other Ambassador Bekkers.
The guard leader 'Ambassador Bekkers' continues. "I'll briefly continue. We know who you are, and apologize for your unpleasant trip thus far. Help us apprehend this traitor," he points his sword at the true, or at least 'first' Ambassador Bekkers, "and come on home. The Princess. My god, help us rescue her from this madman."
The 'true' Ambassador Bekkers- and by the way, these two guys look nothing alike- has no weapons and looks poorly prepared to defend himself. He smirks grimly again. "Wow, that was quick. Well," turning to you, "make your choice. They'll kill you back home."
"Uh, no we won't."
...
What do you do? Or not do?
...
Anyway, your fate is sealed. But first, Theo picks poor Nameless's pockets.
Nice dude. You find a lucky rabbit's foot (two kinds of irony goin' on there, huh?). You also find (1d100 divided by 1d20) platinum. Who knows, you could be rich! You also find three hits of a brutal steroid known as 'plochops 3'.
...
The CoCs' airship flies to the Fairy Paradise Island. Takes a few days. Nameless doesn't really get better. The FPI looks like... well, maybe not exactly what you expected.
The Fairy Paradise Island is brown and devoid of plant life. The waters surrounding it, especially the only 'city', are sludge brown, and a larger circle of red bacterial bloom surrounds the polluted bay. The city is an enormous- miles in size- geodesic dome. Unbelievable, really. But it's true! More like a geodesic disk, as the width must be 10 miles or so, but the height only goes up maybe half a mile.
The airship docks at a hanger outside. As the door opens, god what a fucking stink. The Fairy Paradise Island smells like shit.
Full of people. Crowded as hell. Easily the busiest, most bustling, awful 'city' you've ever been in. The place is like a ghetto methadone clinic. Most of the people wandering around are rolling or in the early, hungry, hunting stages of withdrawal. Twilos was pristine compared to this. At least Twilos seemed to have a bunch of interested governing parties and an organized garbage service.
Not so, these fairies.
And yeah, there are fairies. Although they're the minority. Winged guys and gals, fluttering around, like it's 7 AM and the rave just closed, but they're still hyped on e and meth.
...
The good news is, it looks like no one gives a shit who you are here. That
includes the CoCs, who wander off to get baked. The inside of the dome, where you are now headed, is basically like Blade Runner or something. A giant ghetto drugged-out arcology is where you are.
The neutral news is, is that Her Highness is finally non-catatonic. She's barely conscious, but conscious nonetheless, and seems a bit befuddled and unclear of what's going on. Your new pal Ambassador Crazy Pedo leads her by the hand.
The bad news is, you don't get far before it turns out I lied to you. Looks like someone here actually does care who you are and what you're doing. Just past the drydocks, stepping into the street in front of you, are five guys wearing the colors of the Onze Guard. Just like you used to have. They seem moderately well armed and competent, and certainly not cracked out of their heads.
The leader introduces himself. "Allow me to introduce myself. I'm Ambassador Bekkers." What? The four guards draw their weapons and circle around the... the other Ambassador Bekkers.
The guard leader 'Ambassador Bekkers' continues. "I'll briefly continue. We know who you are, and apologize for your unpleasant trip thus far. Help us apprehend this traitor," he points his sword at the true, or at least 'first' Ambassador Bekkers, "and come on home. The Princess. My god, help us rescue her from this madman."
The 'true' Ambassador Bekkers- and by the way, these two guys look nothing alike- has no weapons and looks poorly prepared to defend himself. He smirks grimly again. "Wow, that was quick. Well," turning to you, "make your choice. They'll kill you back home."
"Uh, no we won't."
...
What do you do? Or not do?
4.11.2007
KT
I give him the "black power" salute, head bowed and fist raised. Fight the power, brother. I'm in. Where are we headed anyway?
Theodore Koppel
That's some heavy stuff. -Too crazy to be made up if you ask me.
My plan is to follow Bekkers, boys.
I pick the armless guy's pocket. BR:31. -Nice. Damn, that Bayakee (sp?) got his ring of Feather Fall.
So I can't get into the 1st class cabin? Hmm. I poke around a bit d6, BR:1! Yay!
No one.
My plan is to follow Bekkers, boys.
I pick the armless guy's pocket. BR:31. -Nice. Damn, that Bayakee (sp?) got his ring of Feather Fall.
So I can't get into the 1st class cabin? Hmm. I poke around a bit d6, BR:1! Yay!
No one.
4.10.2007
TL; DR 2: WTF?
Tut and Dag (and invisi-Theo):
Okay, the Ambassador regards you for a moment, and refills his wineglass. Swirling it around, he takes a small sip and says quietly: "There may well come the day where you rue those words. And wish instead you'd left, or tried to kill me yourself." He laughs. "In all likelihood, I may end up wishing you'd killed me as well."
"Rather, I will tell you of my more recent activities with the Heirs to the bloody throne of Onze. I will tell you what I know of their sires, although undoubtably there is more to the sordid history and pre-history of the... the things that sit on the thrones."
Sip. Another sip.
"Very well. There came a time when I was sworn to secrecy, using much the same language as I've just used with you. My... mm. My love for Her Highness was a guarded secret, and the King and Queen- or at least, their courtiers and Doctor- considered me a trusting ally."
"My Lovely had become something of a sickly girl. Nothing too serious I thought, but it was clear that Doctor Trebort was less than pleased with her development and constitution. Her brother, a brat of a lad, was on the contrary, healthy, sanguine, full of life. Rather stupid, that, but again, the House of Onze didn't seem to care one whit what the Heirs were or were not being taught."
"I was given a strange mission- to take the Princess to a strange house not far from where the Chums airship just was. Near cursed Gorgos and cursed Mammon's Point. There, she would convalesce until she was better. Or 'ready'. Or 'needed'. And as it turned out, 'convalesce' meant nothing more than 'be placed in stasis' by a strange pair of monks with a bizarre spider-like machine. Yes, she was placed in an amber cocoon, and my time with her was done."
"On the way back, keeping a stiff lip about the whole thing, the good Doctor revealed to me what she would be 'needed' for."
Sip. He looks up and regards each of you with sad, beady, dark eyes.
"As it turns out, my- excuse me- our employers, the Queen and King of Onze, are not... not exactly human. Not human at all really. More like," he laughs, "immortal psychic vampires. I'm not sure where exactly they come from, or what they in fact are. I've rarely seen them and never talked to them, they who flit around the palace like moths around the flame."
"Odd turns of phrase, odd going-ons, and the odd texts and images I found at Mammon's Point all began to fit. An image of the Queen, just the same as the Queen from 500 years ago. Other things, details."
"The Doctor explained that every generation, our good Lord and Lady produce scions, which are then raised into healthy young things before being destroyed and consumed, re-integrated maybe, with their sires. His Little Lordship and Her Beauty were essentially little loaves, little cupcakes placed in the crucible of our twisted world here, to become fat and thick with delicious blood and... And I don't know, really. It sounded insane. He assured me that, regardless of the sanity quotient, it was the truth. It was decided that the Princess, despite her beauty and learning, was only second best, runner-up on the filicidal menu."
"Shortly thereafter, the Prince was rounded up, weighed and measured and determined to be rich enough for their sonovorous appetites, and I offered to escort him to the dinner plate. Mammon's Point, that is. Where his life energy would be extracted into a delicious Prince vintage for the enjoyment and rejuvenation of those royal aberrations squatting on the throne." The vitriol in his voice has been building.
"If the Prince was to be... juiced, as you put it, then in short time, I was sure my Love would be either released from stasis and rendered safe from harm. You all were hired as escorts based on certain... certain pluses and minuses." He looks away and gives one of those thin-lipped George W. Bush smirk/smile/frown things.
He finishes the second glass, and pours a third.
"You were to be killed at the temple. I wish I could say I was glad when you didn't show up for duty, sparing yourselves, but honestly I didn't much care for you. For anyone, save my... my own trusted assistant, whom you..." Pause. "And for Her of course."
"But then everything went wrong. I don't know how. I didn't know it at the time. Some conjunction of the delayed essence juicing, due to your arrival and the fracas it caused; some conjunction of that with Strabo's ill-timed coup de Gorgos. It fucked it all up. The Prince was killed, but the juice was sour. The King and Queen were- they still are- furious. It was time for Plan B."
He tenderly strokes the limp leg of the Princess. "Plan B," he says quietly.
...
He sighs. "After that, there's not much else to say. The King and Queen will learn shortly that I have kidnapped their meal, and the House Guard- er, the real guard, not more ice cream guys- will be after Her. Me. Us. You, regardless, now that you know."
He motions around the airship. "The Chums don't care. They aren't even listening, those empty-headed Abercrombie 5th level Fighters. This is as political as they get, although I'm sure at some point there will be a great best seller about their daring rescue of a beautiful maiden. Ha! Morons."
He toasts you. "Well, now you know. With these words, I have damned you. The House of Onze guards its secret very, very tightly. There is no recourse, no police force to whom to turn. No saviors who would even believe this insane, inane story. The Guard will come. They have ears and eyes throughout space. They will stop at nothing to kill us and return Her Highness to Mammon's Point for essence extraction."
He's quietly ranting now. Wide-eyed.
"My plan is to contact some of the Fairy Paradise detritus and to lose Her and myself within the opium realms they provide. I am almost out of money and resources. I welcome your aid in all I do. I am not hopeful it will amount to much."
Okay, the Ambassador regards you for a moment, and refills his wineglass. Swirling it around, he takes a small sip and says quietly: "There may well come the day where you rue those words. And wish instead you'd left, or tried to kill me yourself." He laughs. "In all likelihood, I may end up wishing you'd killed me as well."
"Rather, I will tell you of my more recent activities with the Heirs to the bloody throne of Onze. I will tell you what I know of their sires, although undoubtably there is more to the sordid history and pre-history of the... the things that sit on the thrones."
Sip. Another sip.
"Very well. There came a time when I was sworn to secrecy, using much the same language as I've just used with you. My... mm. My love for Her Highness was a guarded secret, and the King and Queen- or at least, their courtiers and Doctor- considered me a trusting ally."
"My Lovely had become something of a sickly girl. Nothing too serious I thought, but it was clear that Doctor Trebort was less than pleased with her development and constitution. Her brother, a brat of a lad, was on the contrary, healthy, sanguine, full of life. Rather stupid, that, but again, the House of Onze didn't seem to care one whit what the Heirs were or were not being taught."
"I was given a strange mission- to take the Princess to a strange house not far from where the Chums airship just was. Near cursed Gorgos and cursed Mammon's Point. There, she would convalesce until she was better. Or 'ready'. Or 'needed'. And as it turned out, 'convalesce' meant nothing more than 'be placed in stasis' by a strange pair of monks with a bizarre spider-like machine. Yes, she was placed in an amber cocoon, and my time with her was done."
"On the way back, keeping a stiff lip about the whole thing, the good Doctor revealed to me what she would be 'needed' for."
Sip. He looks up and regards each of you with sad, beady, dark eyes.
"As it turns out, my- excuse me- our employers, the Queen and King of Onze, are not... not exactly human. Not human at all really. More like," he laughs, "immortal psychic vampires. I'm not sure where exactly they come from, or what they in fact are. I've rarely seen them and never talked to them, they who flit around the palace like moths around the flame."
"Odd turns of phrase, odd going-ons, and the odd texts and images I found at Mammon's Point all began to fit. An image of the Queen, just the same as the Queen from 500 years ago. Other things, details."
"The Doctor explained that every generation, our good Lord and Lady produce scions, which are then raised into healthy young things before being destroyed and consumed, re-integrated maybe, with their sires. His Little Lordship and Her Beauty were essentially little loaves, little cupcakes placed in the crucible of our twisted world here, to become fat and thick with delicious blood and... And I don't know, really. It sounded insane. He assured me that, regardless of the sanity quotient, it was the truth. It was decided that the Princess, despite her beauty and learning, was only second best, runner-up on the filicidal menu."
"Shortly thereafter, the Prince was rounded up, weighed and measured and determined to be rich enough for their sonovorous appetites, and I offered to escort him to the dinner plate. Mammon's Point, that is. Where his life energy would be extracted into a delicious Prince vintage for the enjoyment and rejuvenation of those royal aberrations squatting on the throne." The vitriol in his voice has been building.
"If the Prince was to be... juiced, as you put it, then in short time, I was sure my Love would be either released from stasis and rendered safe from harm. You all were hired as escorts based on certain... certain pluses and minuses." He looks away and gives one of those thin-lipped George W. Bush smirk/smile/frown things.
He finishes the second glass, and pours a third.
"You were to be killed at the temple. I wish I could say I was glad when you didn't show up for duty, sparing yourselves, but honestly I didn't much care for you. For anyone, save my... my own trusted assistant, whom you..." Pause. "And for Her of course."
"But then everything went wrong. I don't know how. I didn't know it at the time. Some conjunction of the delayed essence juicing, due to your arrival and the fracas it caused; some conjunction of that with Strabo's ill-timed coup de Gorgos. It fucked it all up. The Prince was killed, but the juice was sour. The King and Queen were- they still are- furious. It was time for Plan B."
He tenderly strokes the limp leg of the Princess. "Plan B," he says quietly.
...
He sighs. "After that, there's not much else to say. The King and Queen will learn shortly that I have kidnapped their meal, and the House Guard- er, the real guard, not more ice cream guys- will be after Her. Me. Us. You, regardless, now that you know."
He motions around the airship. "The Chums don't care. They aren't even listening, those empty-headed Abercrombie 5th level Fighters. This is as political as they get, although I'm sure at some point there will be a great best seller about their daring rescue of a beautiful maiden. Ha! Morons."
He toasts you. "Well, now you know. With these words, I have damned you. The House of Onze guards its secret very, very tightly. There is no recourse, no police force to whom to turn. No saviors who would even believe this insane, inane story. The Guard will come. They have ears and eyes throughout space. They will stop at nothing to kill us and return Her Highness to Mammon's Point for essence extraction."
He's quietly ranting now. Wide-eyed.
"My plan is to contact some of the Fairy Paradise detritus and to lose Her and myself within the opium realms they provide. I am almost out of money and resources. I welcome your aid in all I do. I am not hopeful it will amount to much."
Dag
"I'll help you man... I just don't want to see anyone else get juiced."
"Tell me more about this deep dark royal family secret... I love that kinda stuff. I once read a tabloid story about Paris Hilton having sex with a bald eagle. Or maybe it was with a Teddy Ruxpin... I can't remember."
"Tell me more about this deep dark royal family secret... I love that kinda stuff. I once read a tabloid story about Paris Hilton having sex with a bald eagle. Or maybe it was with a Teddy Ruxpin... I can't remember."
Theodore Koppel
I listen to what Bekkers has to say. Not that I tell him: "Go on..."
I just stay quiet and hear him out.
I just stay quiet and hear him out.
KT
That's a pretty long story. No one else seems to care much. I guess I'm in to help. Dying would suck though, I don't really want to reroll yet again. Let's do it, dude.
TL; DR
Theodore:
Rick, Jim, and Tom are alive and wounded. The Nameless Warrior is severely wounded and sitting down, still in shock, with two concert t-shirts as makeshift tourniquets tied around his bloody stumps. Dan's dead body lies in a corner.
Dude, it wasn't hard for me to post that- all that info is at the bottom of the blog. You failed your Gather Information From The Fucking Weblog check bigtime, my friend.
...
Dag, you and Tom kick back and watch 8 Mile. The Chums' Airship has satellite cable, so really you can watch whatever. The Chums watch a lot of Brazilian MTV.
...
KT:
Rick seems to be the Chum with the most.
"Yo, the Ambassador hired us to help him get that chick. Just make sure he survives and take him and the girl back to the Fairy Paradise Island, where we're headed now. Fuck with him and we'll kick your ass. Nothing personal, it's just business son."
The Chums all laugh when you use the word 'hero'. It seems like an in-joke with them. They don't really seem to give a crap what bad scene the Ambassador's a part of. Rick lights a cigarette of his own, and gives another one to Nameless.
"Hey, nice gobot spider thing. You made that thing, huh? You know what would be rad? Maybe you could make ol' Nameless over there a pair of sweet robot arms. With like, I dunno, a buzzsaw on them, or a mini rocket launcher. Shit, even a beer can opener would be better than what he's got now. Or doesn't got, haw haw!"
"Provided. you know, you ain't murdered or something."
...
You try talking to the Ambassador. He starts off dismissing you, probably about to say something snide. "Oh, go and..."
Then he pauses, and thinks for a moment. Opens his eyes, puts the Princess down, and looks right at you.
"Are you serious? Work together? I... yes, it could be just the thing."
"The situation here is complicated. Allow me to explain. The Prince back in the... hmm. I'll start back even further. Have a seat. Boys, break out the red."
Wine is served. The Ambassador sits down, sips his wine, swirls the dark liquid in the glass, considering it.
"I was born and raised on Onze to Jamison and Ms. Scylla Bekkers. My parents were farmers, but well-to-do, and co-owned their land on our little island kingdom. Growing up, I had aptitude in letters, and attended school at the prestigious Parthas Academy in Gorgos." He looks around to see if it means anything to you. It doesn't.
WTF? You didn't ask for this asshole's life story. He continues with Remembrance of Bullshits Past, as SV might say. The Chums aren't paying him any attention, and Tom and Rick play a bit of air hockey.
"After graduation, I returned to my- excuse me- our homeland, where I fell in with the Court. Twenty years ago I became Ambassador and have been ever since. Little did I suspect the awful secret of Onze, the black core of its heart. Places like Twilos, Gorgos, the Paradise Island, certainly. Awful dens of human and demi-human misery, the lot of them. But Onze? Idyllic. So I thought."
"When the Princess was born, I was naturally chosen to be her tutor. Her mentor. Her... friend, god-father, more her Father than His Majesty the King." Sneering, there, lightly. "I saw her grow up. I raised her. I taught her. I... worshipped her. I..." He looks tenderly at her sleeping form. "You'll have to believe me when I say we grew to love each other. You may imagine how that would come about, and you'll likely be right in essence if not in exact detail."
"I began to suspect something was wrong, or at least odd, the summer of her tenth year. All along, I thought it mildly curious that I had received little to no direction in terms of the actual instruction I was to impart to Her Highness. The chief concern of the court seemed to be her physical health and beauty. The horrible Doctor Trebort would routinely interrupt our study time for... diagnosis and examinations, at no small physical and emotional discomfort to us." He frowns.
"Six years ago, then, I thought it was high time that questions of lineage and genealogy be incorporated into curriculum. It was a natural extension of our history lessons, every good Princess should know her ancestry like nothing, and I was intellectually interested in the history of Onze anyway. And it struck me as odd that very few records existed in the palace."
"As luck, or maybe fate might have it, we were on the Grand Tour and visiting Mammon's Point. Much like, heh, we all did not but a few months ago for her younger brother. It was there I found some family records. At first they were merely odd. Repeated study only increased their oddity."
"I noticed a striking resemblance between... excuse me. Let me just say I noticed a striking family resemblance where there should have been little to none. Some subterfuge gained me access to older records. Records of the family of Onze that predated the foundation of Twilos, of the Paradise Island, and of Gorgos itself. Records of a macabre ritual that was to be carried out every generation by the Priests of Mammon's Point, part of a long-seated and long-ago sealed arrangement between the early priesthood and... and something unspeakable."
"What comes next is a secret so guarded, that to know it as I do requires slavish devotion to the family, or the mark of death upon your head. I will say only this now. It was no accident the sad lot of you were chosen to 'guard' His Highness. Half-catatonic priests? A psychotic suicidal knight? The ice cream man? You were chosen as dupes, to die quickly and mercilessly if you were in the way. It would've been better for you had you never arrived at the temple those sad months ago."
"But now I am committing treason to the Royal Family and kidnapping the Princess. The options here, as I see them, are three."
"One, I conclude my tale here, I take the Princess, you go off to somewhere else. Perhaps you can convince the Chums to whisk you off to Ohio or some such place."
"Two, I finish my tale and you disagree, or perhaps you already disagree now and aim to stop me, believing erroneously that it is in the Princess's best interests to return with you. In which case, I will use all my resources to save her and kill you."
"Three, I finish my tale, or not, and either way you believe or at least accept that I am acting in Her Highness's best interest. And we work together to ensure her continued safety."
He drinks deep and finishes his wine. "Stay and help, fight me and die, or walk away. But know that to hear the rest of the story- the sordid, abominable truth of the damned House of Onze- will all but seal your fate. I am a walking dead man. The moment you returned to Mammon's Point, you stole precious time away, dooming me, Her Highness, and most likely yourselves. The Royal Family does not suffer traitors. Your fate is, at this moment, yours to decide."
Rick, Jim, and Tom are alive and wounded. The Nameless Warrior is severely wounded and sitting down, still in shock, with two concert t-shirts as makeshift tourniquets tied around his bloody stumps. Dan's dead body lies in a corner.
Dude, it wasn't hard for me to post that- all that info is at the bottom of the blog. You failed your Gather Information From The Fucking Weblog check bigtime, my friend.
...
Dag, you and Tom kick back and watch 8 Mile. The Chums' Airship has satellite cable, so really you can watch whatever. The Chums watch a lot of Brazilian MTV.
...
KT:
Rick seems to be the Chum with the most.
"Yo, the Ambassador hired us to help him get that chick. Just make sure he survives and take him and the girl back to the Fairy Paradise Island, where we're headed now. Fuck with him and we'll kick your ass. Nothing personal, it's just business son."
The Chums all laugh when you use the word 'hero'. It seems like an in-joke with them. They don't really seem to give a crap what bad scene the Ambassador's a part of. Rick lights a cigarette of his own, and gives another one to Nameless.
"Hey, nice gobot spider thing. You made that thing, huh? You know what would be rad? Maybe you could make ol' Nameless over there a pair of sweet robot arms. With like, I dunno, a buzzsaw on them, or a mini rocket launcher. Shit, even a beer can opener would be better than what he's got now. Or doesn't got, haw haw!"
"Provided. you know, you ain't murdered or something."
...
You try talking to the Ambassador. He starts off dismissing you, probably about to say something snide. "Oh, go and..."
Then he pauses, and thinks for a moment. Opens his eyes, puts the Princess down, and looks right at you.
"Are you serious? Work together? I... yes, it could be just the thing."
"The situation here is complicated. Allow me to explain. The Prince back in the... hmm. I'll start back even further. Have a seat. Boys, break out the red."
Wine is served. The Ambassador sits down, sips his wine, swirls the dark liquid in the glass, considering it.
"I was born and raised on Onze to Jamison and Ms. Scylla Bekkers. My parents were farmers, but well-to-do, and co-owned their land on our little island kingdom. Growing up, I had aptitude in letters, and attended school at the prestigious Parthas Academy in Gorgos." He looks around to see if it means anything to you. It doesn't.
WTF? You didn't ask for this asshole's life story. He continues with Remembrance of Bullshits Past, as SV might say. The Chums aren't paying him any attention, and Tom and Rick play a bit of air hockey.
"After graduation, I returned to my- excuse me- our homeland, where I fell in with the Court. Twenty years ago I became Ambassador and have been ever since. Little did I suspect the awful secret of Onze, the black core of its heart. Places like Twilos, Gorgos, the Paradise Island, certainly. Awful dens of human and demi-human misery, the lot of them. But Onze? Idyllic. So I thought."
"When the Princess was born, I was naturally chosen to be her tutor. Her mentor. Her... friend, god-father, more her Father than His Majesty the King." Sneering, there, lightly. "I saw her grow up. I raised her. I taught her. I... worshipped her. I..." He looks tenderly at her sleeping form. "You'll have to believe me when I say we grew to love each other. You may imagine how that would come about, and you'll likely be right in essence if not in exact detail."
"I began to suspect something was wrong, or at least odd, the summer of her tenth year. All along, I thought it mildly curious that I had received little to no direction in terms of the actual instruction I was to impart to Her Highness. The chief concern of the court seemed to be her physical health and beauty. The horrible Doctor Trebort would routinely interrupt our study time for... diagnosis and examinations, at no small physical and emotional discomfort to us." He frowns.
"Six years ago, then, I thought it was high time that questions of lineage and genealogy be incorporated into curriculum. It was a natural extension of our history lessons, every good Princess should know her ancestry like nothing, and I was intellectually interested in the history of Onze anyway. And it struck me as odd that very few records existed in the palace."
"As luck, or maybe fate might have it, we were on the Grand Tour and visiting Mammon's Point. Much like, heh, we all did not but a few months ago for her younger brother. It was there I found some family records. At first they were merely odd. Repeated study only increased their oddity."
"I noticed a striking resemblance between... excuse me. Let me just say I noticed a striking family resemblance where there should have been little to none. Some subterfuge gained me access to older records. Records of the family of Onze that predated the foundation of Twilos, of the Paradise Island, and of Gorgos itself. Records of a macabre ritual that was to be carried out every generation by the Priests of Mammon's Point, part of a long-seated and long-ago sealed arrangement between the early priesthood and... and something unspeakable."
"What comes next is a secret so guarded, that to know it as I do requires slavish devotion to the family, or the mark of death upon your head. I will say only this now. It was no accident the sad lot of you were chosen to 'guard' His Highness. Half-catatonic priests? A psychotic suicidal knight? The ice cream man? You were chosen as dupes, to die quickly and mercilessly if you were in the way. It would've been better for you had you never arrived at the temple those sad months ago."
"But now I am committing treason to the Royal Family and kidnapping the Princess. The options here, as I see them, are three."
"One, I conclude my tale here, I take the Princess, you go off to somewhere else. Perhaps you can convince the Chums to whisk you off to Ohio or some such place."
"Two, I finish my tale and you disagree, or perhaps you already disagree now and aim to stop me, believing erroneously that it is in the Princess's best interests to return with you. In which case, I will use all my resources to save her and kill you."
"Three, I finish my tale, or not, and either way you believe or at least accept that I am acting in Her Highness's best interest. And we work together to ensure her continued safety."
He drinks deep and finishes his wine. "Stay and help, fight me and die, or walk away. But know that to hear the rest of the story- the sordid, abominable truth of the damned House of Onze- will all but seal your fate. I am a walking dead man. The moment you returned to Mammon's Point, you stole precious time away, dooming me, Her Highness, and most likely yourselves. The Royal Family does not suffer traitors. Your fate is, at this moment, yours to decide."
Labels: god what a windbag
Dag
With no parachute, ring of featherfall, or jet-pack... I also put my feet up... and wait. I keep a constant eye on "creepy pedophile" ambassador guy.
I ask one of the C 'o' C's "Yo, is there an in flight movie? I heard 8-mile is on Vh1 this month... er... every month."
I sure do love that slim shady... Anybody who re-marries his estranged ex-wife in Meadowbrook Hall is the shizzle.
I ask one of the C 'o' C's "Yo, is there an in flight movie? I heard 8-mile is on Vh1 this month... er... every month."
I sure do love that slim shady... Anybody who re-marries his estranged ex-wife in Meadowbrook Hall is the shizzle.
4.09.2007
KT
I think I lyrically shattered Beakers like an apple that was dipped in liquid nitrogen and then struck with a headbut from K.Roop.
I light a cigarette and kick it. Guess we'll have to wait until we land to see where this thing is going. Then again, Beakers says he'll have us killed when we land, and Rob seems to be stalling, giving us more air-time to do something...so here goes...
I pick whichever of the Chums seems most intelligent, or most "goody-two-shoes," and explain to them, persuasively, what Beakers is up to. CHA check: 12, made. I'm not neccessarily trying to convince him (that might incur a heavy negative), I am trying for the "you guys are heroes, this is a weird situation, I need advice" vibe. I mean, didn't they even see the Ambassador dancing around with her "dead" body? That's freaking weird. And he hasn't shown any interest in whether she's alive or not (he hasn't checked her vital signs, asked for first aid, anything). He was happy just to have her *body* back, regardless of whether or not she was dead. I try to use these points as evidence.
Separately, I try to chat up the Ambassador and find out what his plans are...if you can't beat 'em, might as well join 'em...I'm sure Stavros and I could build a juicer that is much more functional than what he was using earlier.
I light a cigarette and kick it. Guess we'll have to wait until we land to see where this thing is going. Then again, Beakers says he'll have us killed when we land, and Rob seems to be stalling, giving us more air-time to do something...so here goes...
I pick whichever of the Chums seems most intelligent, or most "goody-two-shoes," and explain to them, persuasively, what Beakers is up to. CHA check: 12, made. I'm not neccessarily trying to convince him (that might incur a heavy negative), I am trying for the "you guys are heroes, this is a weird situation, I need advice" vibe. I mean, didn't they even see the Ambassador dancing around with her "dead" body? That's freaking weird. And he hasn't shown any interest in whether she's alive or not (he hasn't checked her vital signs, asked for first aid, anything). He was happy just to have her *body* back, regardless of whether or not she was dead. I try to use these points as evidence.
Separately, I try to chat up the Ambassador and find out what his plans are...if you can't beat 'em, might as well join 'em...I'm sure Stavros and I could build a juicer that is much more functional than what he was using earlier.
Theodore Koppel
Uh, Ok.
I guess I chill until we get near some kind of destination.
I am still not too clear on which of the Chums are Dead, and which are alive.
Or en français!:
Uh, ok.
Je devine le froid d'I jusqu'à ce que nous obtenions près d'un certain genre de destination.
Je ne suis toujours pas trop certain sur lesquels des copains sont morts, et ce qui sont vivants.
I guess I chill until we get near some kind of destination.
I am still not too clear on which of the Chums are Dead, and which are alive.
Or en français!:
Uh, ok.
Je devine le froid d'I jusqu'à ce que nous obtenions près d'un certain genre de destination.
Je ne suis toujours pas trop certain sur lesquels des copains sont morts, et ce qui sont vivants.
Labels: oui
