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 Death Approaches

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Number of posts : 761
Registration date : 2007-04-26

PostSubject: Death Approaches   Tue 28 Jun - 14:08:54

Death Approaches

Up bright and early and licking our collective wounds: The lovely Jeannie, light of Getz’s life, is now noted for her Polyphemus impression* and I was also suffering some joint pain in my powerful legs.

*I refer you to the works of Homer for illumination on this point

The swarthy Arab operated on Getz’s amour with some success and then I too suffered some amateur surgery as an ice worm was removed from under my very flesh. We then continued uphill towards our objective, where the long promised goblin attack appeared on schedule.

As is traditional on these occasions, I thoughtfully encouraged the opposition by sportingly impaling myself on one of the first flight of arrows. I decided to enjoy a period of reflection and meditation rather than sully myself with any actual combat on this occasion, and my gallant comrades leapt into action on my behalf as I courageously brandished my shield fearlessly at the (quite distant) goblins.

Our doughty beastmen needed little encouragement to get stuck in and charged, with the exception of the cowardly Slurk, who stayed back with me and Jeannie.

Unfortunately, given the snowy conditions our attack was marked by a number of beastman comedy pratfalls, which would have been quite amusing had not our collective terror membranes been set quivering by the unbelievable yet inevitable sight of a well known witch elf unleashing the power of the doomstone.

Another wind blast devastated the goblins, two thirds of their force pinned down temporarily by a vortex that created their own personal snow maelstrom. Our archers returned fire with some effectiveness and the beastmen ploughed into the goblin horde and began to despatch them efficiently if a little bloodily at times.*

* Preferred techniques that creatures with less imagination than beastmen so often fail to employ included the pulling off of heads, ripping out of hearts and consumption of opponents’ body parts.

Cyrilliac, having already committed one folly, now added another as she raised the bulk of the slain goblins, though the beastmen, ever keen for carnage continued to fight their new zombie opponents. Eventually it was all over as the goblin chief fell to our enthusiastic worshippers. Looting followed, the only notable acquisition a magical helmet that had not exactly served its former owner well.

The beastmen had completely disposed of Cyrilliac’s undead army whilst the goblins, both living and dead, had managed to reduce the beasts from six to four. We set off again and the sun climbed higher until the reflections from the snow became dazzlingly bright. Both I and our necromantically inclined friend were soon struggling to see and that probably explains why I fell down the crevasse and broke my neck.

Well I very nearly did anyway. Andilwei shinned down a rope to me and I was extricated in a jiffy. Mind you, I’ve definitely had better days. At last though we caught sight of a hut on stilts at the very summit of the freezing mountain. Our dwarf doomstone demolition expert was surely almost in our grasp.

Saladin and Getz knocked politely on the hovel door, our beastmen having been parked in a discrete out of the way corner of the mountain where any dwarf disturbing dalliances would go unobserved by our quarry.

Now if you’ve been sitting on top of a freezing mountain top for millennia you can imagine just how delightful the arrival of Saladin and Getz would be. Yes he was that thrilled. As if that wasn’t enough, the rest of us turned up, including our almost blind duo.

Our host, Zloki or some such, turned out to be well over four thousand years old but in that time had failed to develop the ability to disguise disgust and disappointment or learn any tact, manners or diplomacy.

He told us the tragic tale of a dwarf master inventor called Vizmag.* The dwarven civilisation had reached its height** when he tested the power of the doomstones through a sophisticated transmission grid that was designed to supply unlimited power across the dwarf world. Well as seasoned doomstone users, we knew what that meant.***

*A more prolific inventor would be hard to find, apart from the doomstones he also created Billy and his unfeasibly large beard and memorably, the fat slags

**Opinion is divided over the exact truth here: In Dibbon’s ‘Decline and Fall of the Dwarven Empire’, which many scholars regard as definitive, he places the date at 4016 years ago. The respected duo of Cratchett and A.J.P Jaggers have argued persuasively for some centuries later, whilst more recently Professors Phlegmenheim and Tracey have concluded controversially that the height of the Dwarven Empire was just over three foot six.

***’My poor beautiful dwarves, they can hardly have known what was killing them’, to paraphrase the great Walter Pidgeon in Forbidden Planet (1951).

Our dwarf was not exactly a barrel of laughs, warning us that a dwarf brotherhood kept a close eye on him. These dwarves were sworn to prevent the re-assemblage of the stones* and would probably give us a severe ticking off should they ever bump into us.** He also said some very unkind things about our intelligence which was a little bit rich given that he was a member of the team that had created the damn stones in the first place.

*Good job Brotherhood of Memory; we’d better get you straight to work on cold fusion and world peace
**No doubt involving some nifty axe work

What’s more, apart from a good deal of wallowing in self pity, he had come to no conclusion over the past four thousand years about whether to try to help or hinder us.* He also had no ideas about how to destroy the stone. Good use of four thousand years there Zloki. He did at least point us at yet another ruined dwarf hold, the very birthplace of the cursed stones.

*Apparently he was indecisive for the first thirty five centuries but now he’s not so sure

As a reward for his efforts, without so much as a polite knock and ‘Can I interest you in the kingdom of heaven?’ The door burst open and a whirling axe flew through the air to bury itself in the mite encrusted beard of the dowdy hermit. Those few of us who could still see spotted the friendly visage of the leader of the imperial knights, grinning widely with the smugly satisfied air of one who has recently vanquished a helpless flock of beastmen, vented some pent up rage with a well flung axe, all on a good hair day.

The hut meanwhile lurched sickeningly as its stilt supports collapsed on one side and before you could say ‘Oh my gods we’re all going to die, especially me as I’ve got no fate points left thanks to a scheming GM,’ we were enjoying a slightly unexpected toboggan ride, as it turned out that our dwarf genius had also invented the transformer: The mark five Hut to Toboggan variation to be precise, capable of nought to horrible death in about thirty seconds and ten thousand feet…

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Al-Farrak Bin Saladin


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Registration date : 2011-06-14

PostSubject: Re: Death Approaches   Wed 29 Jun - 23:03:06

The all mighty 5' 4" of Al-Farrak Bin Saladin reckons that Slurk probably survived.
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