Action, Adventure, Excitement, Part 9: Various Adventures Chapter 1 - Kell and Veren Subject: Re: AAE 9: Crossroads On Mon, 29 Mar 2004 01:11:24 -0800 Harlock - Bard Extraordinaire Said As CAoL Message # 00011889 >On 26 Mar 2004 22:20:27 -0800, In alt.callahans >Peter Eng Said As CAoL Message # 00011863 > > Kell shakes his head. "I didn't pay for it. Somehow, it makes >sense, though; it's the sort of thing a sorceror who would go >toe-to-toe with a lich would give out if he were equipping people for >that fight." > With another snap of his fingers, the mace vanishes. "So, Veren. >Where do we go next?" Veren looks around at the suddenly (almost) abandoned island. "You know, I have no idea..." =========================== Subject: Re: AAE 9: Crossroads On Mon, 29 Mar 2004 14:26:59 -0800 Rio Said As CAoL Message # 00011893 >On Mon, 29 Mar 2004 01:11:24 -0800 >Harlock Said As CAoL Message # 00011889 > >>On 26 Mar 2004 22:20:27 -0800, In alt.callahans >>Peter Eng Said As CAoL Message # 00011863 >> >> Kell shakes his head. "I didn't pay for it. Somehow, it makes >>sense, though; it's the sort of thing a sorceror who would go >>toe-to-toe with a lich would give out if he were equipping people >>for that fight." >> With another snap of his fingers, the mace vanishes. "So, Veren. >>Where do we go next?" > >Veren looks around at the suddenly (almost) abandoned island. "You >know, I have no idea..." Rio looks up from the console she's been working at. "Well, the Gaunt Guy's been sending little hate letters all over the place," she quips darkly. Running through some readouts, she continues, "D.C.'s pretty much horror-free now, but there's plenty of other hot-spots in this hemisphere. New Orleans, Mexico City, Haiti... and there's more on other continents." The Ecstatic turns to them and grins. "Let me know what sounds good, and when you're ready I can give you either coordinates or a teleport." OOC: I didn't change the subject line yet, since I figure one of you can once you decide where you're going :-). =========================== Subject: AAE 9v: Blackened Half-Orc, anybody? On Wed, 31 Mar 2004 04:05:08 -0800 Harlock - Bard Extraordinaire Said As CAoL Message # 00011896 >On Mon, 29 Mar 2004 14:26:59 -0800 >Rio Said As CAoL Message # 00011893 > >Rio looks up from the console she's been working at. "Well, the Gaunt >Guy's been sending little hate letters all over the place," she quips >darkly. Running through some readouts, she continues, "D.C.'s pretty >much horror-free now, but there's plenty of other hot-spots in this >hemisphere. New Orleans, Mexico City, Haiti... and there's more on >other continents." > >The Ecstatic turns to them and grins. "Let me know what sounds good, >and when you're ready I can give you either coordinates or a >teleport." Veren turns his attention to a handy map. "Hmm...swamps, desert, or island. Never did learn how to swim." He looks at Kell. "Well, _I'm_ ready to go fight zombie alligators, how about you?" =========================== Subject: Re: AAE 9v: Blackened Half-Orc, anybody? On Wed, 31 Mar 2004 16:15:40 +0000 Rob N Said As CAoL Message # 00011898 >On Wed, 31 Mar 2004 04:05:08 -0800 >Harlock - Bard Extraordinaire Said As CAoL Message # 00011896 > >Veren turns his attention to a handy map. "Hmm...swamps, desert, or >island. Never did learn how to swim." He looks at Kell. > >"Well, _I'm_ ready to go fight zombie alligators, how about you?" Kell stretches his arms, generating a small assortment of popping noises from various locations. "Ready. You may have to give the old man a little time to get used to swamp-running again, though." =========================== Subject: AAE 9v: a half-orc in "Nawlins" On Tue, 27 Apr 2004 21:33:26 -0700 Harlock - Bard Extraordinaire Said As CAoL Message # 00012076 Veren and Kell are wandering through the French Quarter when Veren squints at a run-down fortune-teller's shop and slowly smiles. "I think we've got something, here," he says as he heads into the dimly lit building. Seated behind a table is a figure in a hooded cloak, gazing at a crystal ball. The figure doesn't even look up as they enter, but a female voice issues from the hood. "Greetin's, sto'mah. You be lookin' to help us wit' de troubles we been havin', neh? I can't be helpin' you direct, but I can be pointin' you de right way. You jus' be takin' dis card to Henri Beauchamp at Tulane." With those words, a business card floats off the table toward Veren. "If anybody be findin' out what be goin' on 'round here, it be Henri." Veren spocks an eyebrow. "So where's Tulane?" A faint chuckle emanates from the hood. "You got yohself a hike comin', sto'mah. Five miles as de crow be flyin', but ain' no street dat straight here in Nawlins. Bes' t'ing to do is be followin' Sain' Cha'les 'til you be findin' de University some seven mile west o' here. Den you be lookin' foh de Ant'ropology building, neh? Big white buildin' wit' a sign out front, say 'Ant'ropology.' Hard to miss, you know what you be lookin' foh. You be givin' dat card to Henri, he be pointin' de way foh you." Veren thanks the...girl? Woman? And heads out of the store. They haven't even made it to St. Charles, much less out of the French Quarter, when Veren hears voices in an alley up ahead. "Come on, man, there's gonna be cops!" "No! I wan' one more. And here he comes." Kell looks at Veren. "Trouble," he asks in a whisper. Veren grins nastily. "Pair of muggers," he whispers back. "Take care of them, will you?" Kell picks up his pace a little, and walks into the alley, while Veren slows to give Kell time to work. A minute later, thumps, cracks, and a sound of tearing cloth come from the alley. Shortly after that, Kell emerges. "Sorry it took so long. The swarthy one wanted to make a speech," he explains, as he fiddles with a switchblade. "Interesting design." "I heard. Called himself...Morty, was it?" "Something like that." Three hours later, somewhat footsore and more than vaguely appalled at the noisy traffic the people of this city put up with, Veren and Kell arrive at the Anthropology building at Tulane University. =========================== Subject: Re: AAE 9v: a half-orc in "Nawlins" On Mon, 10 May 2004 02:47:47 -0700 Harlock - Bard Extraordinaire Said As CAoL Message # 00012101 >Three hours later, somewhat footsore and more than vaguely appalled >at the noisy traffic the people of this city put up with, Veren and >Kell arrive at the Anthropology building at Tulane University. Veren scans the building directory, looking irritated. "On'Ri Bosham, On'Ri Bosham... There's no 'Bosham' here. Did she send us chasing snarks?" Kell glances over his shoulder. "Maybe this 'Henry Byu Champ' guy is who she meant? She did have kind of a strange accent, after all..." Veren shrugs. "Worth a try, anyway. Room 111A, now what does that...oh. The doors are numbered. Hmm..." They start wandering through the building, looking for room 111A and Henri Beauchamp. Finally, tucked into an out-of-the-way corner, they find it. The door is closed, but a polite knock produces an invitation to enter. The gentleman seated behind the desk is thin, cheerful, and dark as mahogany. "Welcome, Monsieur. Yvette told me you would be coming this afternoon. Please, pull up a chair and make yourselves comfortable." He pulls a leather-bound book out of a drawer. "I just acquired this diary from a second-hand bookstore. I am not entirely certain it will help you, but it is interesting. It is the diary of one of the overseers of a local plantation over two hundred years ago." Veren cocks an eyebrow. "So how's that help us? Two hundred years is a long time." Henri smiles enigmatically. "Indeed. And yet, for all that I have studied the roots and practices of voudoun, I have never encountered a text quite like this. It seems that one of the slaves they bought from Haiti was giving them trouble, a man called 'Lafitte.' They tried beating his 'heathen ways' out of him, but he persisted in worshipping as he was taught. I surmise from some of the passages that he was actually a houngan, or...well, I guess priest is the closest translation into English. I can not be entirely certain of this, but this entry..." He opens the journal and starts reading. "And then the nigger Lafitte, he throwed down his hoe and said he weren't gonna weed no more in the hot sun. Mr. Gerrity (from earlier entries, that was the foreman) done told him to pick up the hoe and get back to work, but the nigger refused, so Mr. Gerrity had me larrup him good with a strap and set him to fetchin' water. And all the time I was whoppin' him with the strap, he was hollerin' something that sounded kinda like French, only it weren't." "This morning, the nigger Lafitte weren't nowheres we could find him, but Mr. Gerrity was dead with a slit throat. We searched for the nigger so as to hang him proper, but we ain't found him. One of the other niggers babbled something about Congo Savanne, but he weren't makin' no sense. We're lookin' for Lafitte, not this other person." "I been havin' bad dreams lately. I sees the nigger Lafitte killing Mr. Gerrity and painting himself with blood and chantin' in that wierd language. Then a ghost comes and sinks into him and he goes kinda ghosty himself and for some reason I'm in the room too and he turns and smiles at me and it ain't a nice smile and I wake up all in a sweat." "Some of the men says they've seen the nigger Lafitte in the woods lately. He don't do nothin' but watch, they says, but when they trys to cotch him, he just ain't there anymore. That would be bad enough, but some of the men is going missing and maybe its just me but the ones that is gone is the ones that treated the nigger Lafitte the worst. Colonel Talliafero is startin' to complain about the cost of replacin' good overseers. He just thinks they run off to start their own plantations." "I'm the last of the overseers left from when Mr. Gerrity died and my dreams is gettin' worse every night. I would leave, but I ain't got the money to get even to Baton Rouge. In my last dream, I could kinda make out what the nigger Lafitte was chantin'. He called on somebody called Congo Savanne, and at the end he said somethin' about how now they two was one. Then he looked at me and he smiled and it weren't a nice smile and he said I was next and then he would get the Colonel and I woke up all in a sweat. I tried to warn the Colonel, but he told me not to be a superstitious fool. I've started to carry pistols with me everywhere." "The nigger Lafitte walked slap up to me in the fields today, said he would kill me tonite in my sleep. I pulled out my pistol and shot him right in the head and he just laughed and said he was one with his loa and he couldn't be killed anymore and he vanished and as soon as its dark I'm gonna head north for Baton Rouge. I may starve along the way but its better than dyin' or goin' crazy here." "This last entry appears to be scrawled in blood and is half-literate at best. If I had to guess, I would say that Lafitte caught up with our unfortunate diarist, because all it says is 'I said you was next.'" The professor looks puzzled for a moment. "It's the oddest thing, though. When I first skimmed this diary, the blood was as dry as you would expect from something over two centuries old, but now it's tacky and it feels like it's still fresh, still...good." A sudden red glow in Henri Beauchamp's eyes is all the warning Veren has before the professor lunges over the desk, hands crooked into claws. Veren tumbles backward out of his chair, hands frantically scrabbling for his sword, when Kell lashes out with a backhand and catches the professor squarely on the temple with the pommel of one of his daggers, which flares with eldrich light as it connects. Beauchamp collapses halfway across his desk. Veren gets to his feet and looks at Kell. "So, do we take _him_ back to the girl, or just the book?" Kell considers the question for a few moments. "Both, I think. She seems to be a sorceress of some sort. Maybe she can figure out what's wrong with him." Veren snorts. "That part's easy. Somehow the book slapped a geas on him. I just hope she can break it, otherwise we're going to have to kill this poor bastard to keep him from killing us. Thanks, by the way." Kell sighs. "I hope we aren't going to regret this." TBC =========================== Subject: AAE 9v: a half-orc in "Nawlins" (part 3) On Thu, 13 May 2004 01:19:12 -0700 Harlock - Bard Extraordinaire Said As CAoL Message # 00012104 >Richard Bagnall wrote: > >Veren snorts. "That part's easy. Somehow the book slapped a geas on >him. I just hope she can break it, otherwise we're going to have to >kill this poor bastard to keep him from killing us. Thanks, by the >way." > >Kell sighs. "I hope we aren't going to regret this." Veren gingerly scoops the book up and tucks it under his cloak while Kell hefts the unconscious professor and drapes him over one shoulder. Veren leads the way back to the French Quarter, but he lets Kell set the pace. They are within a quarter mile of Yvette's store when Veren mutters "oh, hells" and stumbles against a pickup truck. With his voice pitched for Kell's ears alone, he says "is that your playmate back there?" Kell pauses for a moment to adjust his burden while Veren keeps walking. As he does so, he has ample time to check the mirror that Veren's "stumble" re-aimed. He sighs with assumed weariness and continues trudging on, muttering "that's him, all right." Veren shakes his head and says "all right, you go on. I'll reason with him this time." He promptly weaves his way into an alley. Kell passes the alley a few moments later, then grins briefly and turns to face his pursuer. "You know, Morty, if you wanted a rematch..." "No! Is no Morty! Is Muerte! Death!" With that, the swarthy man shifts his grip on his switchblade and charges...right into a greenish forearm that emerges from the alley at the last second. His feet keep going as his torso stops with the predictable result that he lands flat on his back. Veren steps out of the alley and gives him a swift kick in the head to make sure he stays down, then quickly and expertly shakes him down, relieving him of three switchblades, but leaving the rest of his property intact. Kell looks at Veren. "So his name is Muerte, not Morty? I wonder if that means anything?" Veren shrugs and starts walking again. As they reach Yvette's shop, Veren mutters "guard the door, will you? I've got a bad feeling about this." Kell spocks an eyebrow and hands his burden over to Veren, then stands outside the door. The cloaked, hooded figure is still seated behind the table as Veren walks in. "So, sto'mah. You return. Did you learn what you was needin' to learn?" Veren steps out of the shadows with Henri Beauchamp over his shoulder and has the satisfaction of hearing an indrawn breath of surprise. "Well, we found something strange, anyway." He sets the professor down in a chair, then pulls the diary out of his cloak. "This book cast some sort of geas on your friend, there, and he tried to kill me with his bare hands." He sets the diary on the table and pushes it across to Yvette. Yvette's hands shake as she reaches out to examine the book. "By Papa Legba, what has you brought here? Out, out, out! I t'ink I can be helpin' Henri, but dis be needin' quiet, and I be t'inkin..." She is cut off by a wordless yell from Kell and the *shing* of drawn daggers. "Go! My safety was dat de evil houngan, he didn' be knowin' where I was. Now he be knowin', and we be in trouble. You be keepin' dem zombies out o' my shop and maybe I be helpin' you." TBC =========================== Subject: AAE 9v: a half-orc in "Nawlins" (part 4) On Sun, 23 May 2004 01:06:48 -0700 Harlock - Bard Extraordinaire Said As CAoL Message # 00012110 Richard Bagnall wrote: >Yvette's hands shake as she reaches out to examine the book. "By Papa >Legba, what has you brought here? Out, out, out! I t'ink I can be >helpin' Henri, but dis be needin' quiet, and I be t'inkin..." She is >cut off by a wordless yell from Kell and the *shing* of drawn >daggers. "Go! My safety was dat de evil houngan, he didn' be knowin' >where I was. Now he be knowin', and we be in trouble. You be keepin' >dem zombies out o' my shop and maybe I be helpin' you." Veren draws a bow out of his quiver and pelts out the door, just in time to dodge a (temporarily) flying zombie. Despite Veren's original crack about zombie alligators, all of the undead horrors crowding around Kell are human. Without pausing to think about targeting, Veren lets fly with an arrow into the head of the nearest zombie, then boggles as it simply turns and starts lurching towards him. "Use your sword," Kell yells from the middle of a melee so thick even Veren can barely catch glimpses of him. "Point work's useless on these things!" "I don't believe it," mutters Veren, "I've dropped zombie _ogres_ with shots like that!" Of course, with the evidence of his failure lurching towards him, he's not going to belabor the point: he stows his bow and yanks his sword out of its scabbard just in time to chop off a reaching arm. The ensuing melee is brutal and exhausting. The zombies don't stop attacking until they're completely dismembered, and even the hacked-off bits try to contribute to the downfall of the heroes by tripping them or crawling up their legs to try to establish a chokehold. Veren and Kell do manage to fight their way into a back-to-back position, but they are still on the verge of being overwhelmed when a powerful female voice cries out "STOP!" Yvette, still cloaked and hooded, stumbles out of her shop as the zombies freeze in place. Then the zombies step aside and another figure appears out of the darkness: a black man in a ragged homespun set of trousers. He claps sardonically as he approaches. "Very good, little mambo! Now, do you care to be tryin' yoh strength against ours?" Veren swings his sword at the man's neck. It bounces off. "Foolish..." The man's voice trails off. "What de hell _are_ you? Nemmine, we be killin' you after we eats the mambo." "Congo Savanne, I be surprised at you! I be knowin' you's a petro loa an' all, but I t'ought you be havin' too much pride to be slave to dis two-bit houngan." "Trying to disrupt our bond, little mambo? I was houngan when yoh grandmammy's grandmammy was suckin' on a tit, and I can tell you dat won't be workin'. We be bound by sacrifice!" "Now dere's where you be wrong, Lafitte. You be bound by blood, true enough," Yvette says as she throws back her cloak, revealing a dagger buried to the hilt in her chest, wobbling with her ragged breath like some absurd third arm. For the first time, Kell and Veren realize that she can't be much more than 20 years old. Her face is serene and her voice takes on odd overtones as she continues, "but you never _sacrificed_ a t'ing. De time has come, Lafitte, to pass de crossroads. Too long have you stood here, just beyond my reach. You will escape me no more!" Lafitte, for the first time, looks uncertain. Then he laughs. "Dis is supposed to be scarin' me? Little mambo, all I's got to do is wait a few minutes and you be dead." He gestures at the zombies. They move briefly, then stop as Yvette crosses her arms and shakes her head. "I've explained things to the Baron. Your little toys are no longer welcome here." With that, the zombies start crumbling to dust. Yvette gestures at Kell and Veren, then starts walking toward Lafitte. Lafitte sneers, but starts backing away. Veren and Kell move to box him into a nearby alley. While they can't actually hurt him, they both prove to be far better at preventing escape than Lafitte is at escaping. Yvette, visibly weakening, steps up to Lafitte, who suddenly lashes out and rips the dagger from her chest, spraying everybody with blood. She cries out and falls to her knees, but reaches out to Lafitte and grabs...something. A semi-visible shape starts pulling away from Lafitte's body, struggling in Yvette's grasp while Lafitte goes rigid. Veren yells "go for the body," as he slashes his sword downward between Lafitte and Congo Savanne. Kell starts for just an instant, then slashes his mage-bane dagger neatly across Lafitte's throat. The resulting psychic scream drops them both to their knees, but the effect on Lafitte is far more profound as the century and a half that he should have been dead take their toll. Within seconds, nothing is left but a little pile of bones. Yvette smiles at them, then whispers "t'ank you, Papa Legba." A little trickle of blood forms at the corner of her mouth as she coughs once and lies still. ===========================