Saturday, December 19, 2009

Out of the Forbidden Mist and into the Tower of Tazar, pt. 1

The Expeditionary Journal of Xarnagan Vrokk
Out of the Forbidden Mist and into the Tower of Tazar, pt. 1


Previous Entry found HERE

Buzz Brazelhatch - Australian Womanizer and Fighting-Man
Corporal "Radar" O'Reiley - Earth Man Rocketship Soldier
Dickie Dee - Bone Man Intoxicant Addict and Sorcerer
Kal-Mor the White Jackal - Hyperborean Bigot and Assassin
Kalervo - Cactoid Fighter
Monster Monagin - Earth Man Sailor and Bully
Rodan the Scrounger - Zermish Man Scavenger and Fighting-Man
Thragg the Skyman - Zermish Man Ornithopter Passenger and Fighting-Man
Xarnagan Vrokk - Haasht Man Fighting-Sage

Hobab - Lhoyg (piebald) Mountain Man and Guide
Vrroomish - Tikalg Man Dandy and Adventurer
Two Nguamodons - Pack Lizards


Well, I must say it fascinates me to know that after having gone through much trial and tribulation we must still argue over more simple ways of making some gold credits appear in our pouches. I have made the argument that in due haste we mine that precious prismatic ore near the Melted City and deliver it to my now good acquaintance, Tazar the Interlocutor; whom I am certainly sure will pay a handsome sum for what is undoubtedly a fine vein of Prismatic Ore of exceptional specimen. However, I should most likely make note of how I came to be here, in the Tower of Tazar, lazing about in the languid after-wafts of one of Dickie Dee's green cigars, a chemical brazier at my side, a good cup of warm tea in my teeth. Yes, I believe we left off with me wiping bird's blood from my hands...

With fresh hands, and a stale outlook, I do believe Dickie Dee and I sat by the fire that eve, staring up at the phosphorescent sky-glow of the distant Stain. There, up in the Bornite Mountains, we exchanged spells from each others tomes. An exciting book of spells, that man has; I intend to make as much use of it as a Sage can! Well, as we were, there in the Mountains, we were of course at the want to follow the hapless Hobab, still ever in search of the "Fallen Ship" now in search of a way out of these beautiful, but deadly mountains. Follow him in more circles we did, to natural results. I do believe someone once described the very definition of insanity as being repeatedly engaged in the same action, each time expecting different results. I do believe I was going slightly mad. However, if I do remember correctly, with some delicate prodding from Vroomish, Buzz Brazelhatch took the lead and did indeed take us somewhere unusual.

We walked all day, following Buzz, and came to find nestled in the multi-colored and pastel foothills, the cave nests of a tribe of Mutant Albino Crow beings. Upon first inspection, they seemed a decent place to stay. Albeit, I had mentioned to the party that they were un-natural caves, and most likely created by some primitive race of sorts. And, when we stepped into these bird warrens, I did happen to notice a few white feathers scattered about. ' Curious!' I thought upon first seeing them. However, in moments my curiosity was replaced by a strange indelible fear. The caverns echoed with a raucous cawing of "DOOM! DooOOM!" and we were suddenly aswarmed by an angry mob of bird men! Stamping their clawed feet to the dust, it was easy to see that they had spread the colored pastel chalk of the hills all over their white feathers, as to make each bird-man a unique blue, pink, or copper green. Very fashionable for such brutes. It is nice to see care taken to preserve some aspects of personal beauty even in the most wild and primitive of places!

I dare say, that in the battle that ensued, the pie-bald Hobab did finally take his leave from this dimension. At least in energetic form. His material remains could most likely now be found scattered about in various forms of putrescence, decay, and digestion. Yes, within seeming moments after Hobab's jugular and other arterial veins were being tossed about in beaks, Dickie Dee did indeed clack his abnormal and jutted jaw in that particular way. Suddenly, all about lay the bird-men, put to sleep by the infectious incantation of the Bone Man Dickie Dee. With our daggers out we set to work. Throats were slit, guts were split in hopes of treasure, and then camp was made. It was at this time, as I was placing on my sleeping cap and adjusting my bedroll, just after giving my monocle a good waxing, that two slimy, pig-baby-faced Vat Men arrived!

There they were, as we should have suspected, lumbering down the stairs, right into our camp inside the nest of the mutant crow-people. Yes, we had spotted them on our way down to the bird warrens wandering the far off cliffs, but they seemed insignificant roving pink blobs at that time. And at this time, I still considered them such. The party attacked with full bravado- after initially running away and attempting to use the pack lizards as meat sheilds. The Vat-Men pressed on, striking at the gnuamodons and causing them to bolt in fear. I too, ran to the other end of the cave towards Thragg and the pack-lizards. Looking back over my shoulder I saw lasers being fired, giant bronze colored axes scraping through flesh, and my party members screaming in agony. It was at this moment I decided to grab a gnuamodon pack lizard and head for the hills... er, well, valley as it was. Yes, I remembered how difficult it was to kill one vat-man, let alone the idea of slaying two. I surmised, perhaps, the party would follow me out of the nest of the bird people (where I was certain lurked ever more of them) and away from the two mindless, rapidly self-healing, constructs.

I had time, there, huddled amongst the flora at the base of the chalky cliffs, to indeed resolve a riddle. Why had the Vat-Men, from the secret laboratory of the Elder race of snake priests, come all this way? It was simple: the Vat-Men were after the obelisk and the other treasures taken from the strange laboratory. I would resolve to keep this to myself. After all, a sage must keep such things as items of historical value a top priority. Especially if he deems they will look good on a mantle or shelf in a future manse. Many moments later while dreaming of a subterranean addition to said future manse, I heard the scrambling of a man down the hillside. Dickie Dee himself had taken leave of the situation and was running towards me, jaw flapping, fire and fear in his eyes, with a spitting chemical lantern swinging as he bounded toward the safety of the scrub. Soon the others followed. By others, I mean, Thragg the skyman, his conical helmet bouncing as he jump-slid down the cliff side. Behind him I could hear the echoing moans of the Vat-Men being pecked to death by more of the mutant crows. I knew there would be more! Where there's feathers, theirs flocks!

I was then made aware of the situation that had passed. Prior to Thragg and Dickie's flight, Kal-Mor had been heard screaming to death down a dark tunnel- perhaps rousing another nest, Kalervo the Cactoid had fallen by the blade of the bronze axe, metal-nosed Radar and our brash leader Buzz were hacked to death by a rusty Vat-Man blade, and Vroomish, his needle pistol firing whirring blast after blast, had gone down last-man-standing in order for Dickie and Thragg to escape. Tragic. I was just happy we had the gnuamodons with our powerful Elder race possessions happily tucked away.

We decided to lay low, and return in the morning, seeking scraps of survivors. At dawn, we cautiously went back to the caves. Lying there, still as a dead thing can, was Kalervo- naught else; not a scrap, nay a shard. Dickie Dee at that time, heaved a slow sigh while he pulled from his pouch the Eye of Restoring Life and using it, brought Kalervo back from the realms of the aether. Seeing no use of hanging about to get pecked to death by the remaining tribe of mutant crows we set out. Quickly, following the revived and robust cactoid, we made our way out of the cursed and twisted foothills of the Bornites and into the desert sands. Kalervo, a smile on his spiney face as the sun and sand struck at it, bellowed he saw something in the distance. I say that cactoid certainly has a nack for finding his way through seemingly any terrain. With the faint outline of a structure in the distance, we suddenly found ourselves on our way to the Great Dome of the Desert...

10 comments:

  1. Very interesting ideas. I wonder where my game world falls? I started it when I was a kid in the late 70's, and have used it ever since (to this day using AD&D first edition). Because of this, the land and lots of the world are fleshed out (more in my mind than on paper...I don't have my notebooks from the 80's, for example), and new players can tell pretty quickly how in touch I am with the world. In gaming terms, I grew up with it, and it with me.

    So..."Ego Attachment."

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  2. Oops, I think I posted in the wrong spot!

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  3. Yes, you did comment in the wrong spot. However, it was nice to see a comment after a Xarnagan Journal (the only one thus far!), no matter how wrongly posted.

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