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 Best Served Cold

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Phlegm

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Number of posts : 753
Registration date : 2007-04-26

PostSubject: Best Served Cold   Wed 1 Jun - 16:48:27

Best Served Cold

I stumbled back from my vision, waking to a new reality, a very cold one at that. We were somewhere outside, but exactly where was impossible to tell as a powerful snowstorm was in progress making it impossible to see more than a dozen yards. The howling gale made conversation impossible and we communicated in shouts that were whipped away on the wind as soon as the words were uttered.*

*Mind you we are always shouting at each other any way so not much difference really

We set off roped together, trying to keep a straight course with the wind on our beam. Only trouble was, the wind shifted continually, blowing into our faces whichever direction we travelled. The cold was soon freezing up our joints and searing at our lungs, especially Snorri who seemed burdened by the great weight of the earthstone.

I tried to heal my wounds using his regeneration amulet, but the pesky thing wouldn’t work for me. We staggered on, the cold sapping our strength and the storm intensifying if anything. We could make little headway, though the elf claimed his keen eyes had spotted mountains in the far distance.

Unable to find shelter and slowing down more and more, we decided to try and build a shelter, digging a pit to huddle in until the tempest passed. I made little headway with my pick and our impatient dwarf decided to excavate a la doomstone, after all what could go wrong?

The rest of us stood well back and took what cover we could. The dwarf, who had shown a striking intellectual development in recent minutes, now focused the power of chaos, bending it to his iron will. As usual, disaster was the result. Still, Michelangelo* would have been proud of the extraordinarily lifelike statue of Snorri that was created by malicious power of the stones. Our heroic dwarf was no more, his petrified visage an instant monument to the foolishness of meddling with the power of festering chaos crystals.**

*Not the turtle you idiot
**And we would have got away with it too, if we hadn’t meddled with those pesky doomstones


Just the four of us left, with the sea elf now a reluctant stone bearer too, we resumed our search for well, warmth, shelter - anything really. What we found was slightly unexpected, a blind boy of about twelve. With Snorri no longer around, he stayed alive long enough for us to hold a conversation that actually revealed some useful information.

We established we were south of Winters Teeth Pass, and from his account of recent events, still in the correct time zone. He didn’t believe there were elves amongst us and somewhat worryingly advised us that the storm was unseasonably late and just one of a list of elemental events that had been causing natural disasters in the region.

If you were of a suspicious nature you might think that the events he listed might be side effects of the use of some sort of demonic elemental chaos weapon, but who could possibly be doing such things, unleashing floods, subsiding villages, explosions and…? Oh. Well as I say, we’re not suspicious types.*

*OK to clarify; we are suspicious in that we appear suspicious, but we aren’t suspicious of others

He led us back to his village, a settlement that centred on a silver mine. Quite how the blind boy navigated was a mystery, but he guided us safely to a shop run by a halfling. There we learned just how exorbitant prices were in this region, plus the scarcity of any decent goods. We also discovered some apparently sex starved staff who took fancys to virtually every party member, especially Getz who instantly succumbed to the charms of the only human woman amongst them.

We also heard some rumours about a stranger in the village, quite an event as we certainly couldn’t find any possible reason to want to visit this place, there was not even a tavern or accommodation beyond communal dormitories and no evidence that the mine was generating any kind of success.

It was whilst visiting some of these woeful accommodations that we met the strange visitor, an Arab with a most unusual manner and approach to social situations. When we arrived he was having what we feared was probably a typical conversation for him, in that a brace of pistols were employed liberally to emphasis his words, and death threats were a substitute for punctuation.

For some reason, possibly a feeling that the party had fallen a little short on its quota of psychopathic murderers with the loss of Snorri, Getz proceeded to hire the services of the said Arab, although there was a nasty moment when he inadvertently mentioned the lack of pubs in this strange place.*

*Memorably, this news was not well received

We also met the lead dwarf miner who assured us that the mining operation was on the verge of striking the mother lode. He seemed strangely optimistic and blinkered to the extent that he didn’t even appear to notice he was chatting amiably to a couple of the sorriest looking elves you could hope to meet.

Now I’ve dug a few shafts in my time and worked a few seams, and I’ve heard a lot of talk about the mother lode, but never in a mine that seems established for so long, in a town where there are no home comforts, the inhabitants talk of people having a way of arriving and deciding to stay, and an unseasonable late spring blizzard seems to be determined to leave us snowbound here for the foreseeable future.

If I were the suspicious type I might then start thinking about what the odds were of us being found and led here by a blind man, to a place where everyone seems dedicated to mining a mine with no wealth. You know I think I’m beginning to think that perhaps we’ve been a bit too trusting in the past…


30.05.11








Dirge For Snorri

(With Apologies to Black Sabbath)

Finished with our Snorri famous dwarf with only half a mind,
People said he wasn’t right he couldn’t hack the daily grind.

He thought he could hack it as he strode the world with extra arms,
Blasting with his Doomstone about killing he had just no qualms.
Now he’s copped it,
Turned right into stone,
Wo ‘ohh yeah.

And so as we mourn him we remember all the things he’s done,
Slaying, drinking, fighting, quaffing, he had chaos on the run.

Can’t help feeling that at least in death he has the peace he lost,
Possessed by Doomstone fever with his short life he paid the cost.

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