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1. Here's a fun (I hope!) piece that I worked up real quick starting some time yesterday and finishing about twenty minutes ago.
2. Inspired by an encounter in the sometimes wacky, sometimes wild, always witty world of the Kingdom of Loathing.
What is Kingdom of Loathing? I'm glad you asked.
http://www4.kingdomo...hp?id=whatiskol
An adventurer is you!
Seriously. It's a hilarious little game, it's well done (Don't let the "art" fool you,) and it's ridiculously fun to play. Not to mention free. Did I mention it's free? Because it's free.
3. Visual aids also courtesy of Kingdom of Loathing (Ok, officially, I didn't ask anyone, but let's be clear, these aren't any Alpha-drawn stick figures.
)-----
“According to this inscription, all we have to do is place the recovered bones back in the sarcophagus, and… well, something ought to happen.”
“Please to be defining exactly what you mean by ‘something.’”
“Well, that’s where the translation gets a little… erm… vague. See, there’s this glyph here that says something about ‘resurrection,’ but I never did pay a lot of attention to those lectures on ancient Netherese.”
“Oh, well, that’s fine,” Enara said with a nod. She gave her little sister Imoen an affectionate pat on the shoulder. “I’m perfectly confident with placing our lives and possibly the continued existence of the multiverse at the mercy of a potentially spotty translation.” She made absolutely no effort to hide the sarcasm in her tone. None.
“Just put the stupid bones inside, ok?”
Against her better judgment, Enara did just that, gently laying the small collection of golden bones into the mostly empty sarcophagus. The rib cage came first, followed by the spindly arm bones. The pelvis was next, and then a pair of legs. While thin and appearing hollow, as well as covered in thin layers of dust and grime, the various parts of the golden skeleton had been in remarkably good condition when they’d been recovered, and she could only wonder what methods, mundane and magical alike, had gone into preserving them so effectively.
She settled the final bone into place and then pulled her hands away from the sarcophagus, taking an involuntary step back and trying not to flinch. She was expecting an explosion or at least something explosion-like, and appeared to be almost disappointed when nothing of the sort occurred immediately.
“I thought something was supposed to-“
The statement was cut off by a gentle, but unexpected gust of wind somehow blowing through the burial chamber despite it being mostly isolated from the rest of the deeply underground complex. Gingerly, Enara stepped back over to the coffin and carefully peered inside, letting out a sharp gasp as she saw what had happened. The golden skeleton had disappeared and in its place was a ghostly apparition of some sort, its translucent form just barely visible to the naked eye. The specter broke into something that she could’ve sworn was a smile as it “sat up” inside the sarcophagus, and then began to fade, leaving behind an ornate, golden ring lying where the golden skull had once been. She eyed the little bauble warily, then hesitantly brought her hand forward and reached for it. Then she stopped, her hand hovering in mid-air. “Hmmm.”
“What is it, Nar?”
“It’s just… you know, this is the part where I reach in, grab what’s inside, and then suddenly, this extremely powerful and malevolent spirit comes out of nowhere and tries to kill us. The -instant- I reach for that ring, something tries to kill us. Isn’t that how it always works? For once, I kinda just wish... I don’t know, they’d cut to the chase. It’s like ‘Ok, I know you’re gonna attack as soon as I try to take this thing, so let’s just stop screwing around, and you come out and you attack me.’”
“Tsk.”
“What was that, Im?”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You ‘tsk’ed me.”
“I didn’t.”
“I heard you. You ‘tsk’ed me.”
Imoen held her hands up, palms facing outwards in a gesture of placation. “I didn’t!”
“Was it you, Anomen?”
The Helmite shook his head. “I said nothing, my lady. Though now that you mention it-”
Enara hastened to cut him off. She loved the guy, but he did have a tendency to ramble and her normal method of shutting him up sounded less and less pleasant as more and more gore and grave dust accumulated on his armor. “We’ll talk about it. Later. How about the rest of you?”
The other members of her party all shook their heads and shrugged. Their expressions were blank – the absolute picture of innocence.
“So if you guys didn’t… then who-“
“By Tyr’s right butt-cheek,” Imoen gasped in astonishment.
Enara found herself in extremely strong agreement with that sentiment. She turned, craning her neck upwards, and swallowed a sudden lump in her throat. “Er. Hi?”
“You know, back when I was alive, adventurers knew how to stick to the script.” The spirit looked a little annoyed. What passed for his mouth had quirked into a stressed-looking frown.
“Um… in our defense, this has been a pretty long, drawn out quest, and… well, we’re all kinda tired…”
“Excuses, excuses. What is it with you kids these days? No sense of decorum, of procedure. You don’t care about rituals, it’s all ‘Oh, how can I get this phat lewt without having to work for it?’ Gah. I swear, it’s that kind of attitude that’s going to be the end of costumed adventuring as we know it.”
“I’m not wearing a costume.”
“You know what I mean.”
“No, I don’t.”
The angry ghost sighed. “Look. I had a speech prepared.”
Enara pinched the bridge of her nose and tried to muster up some patience. “Ok, ok, if I let you give your speech, can we have the ring?”
“You can fight me for it.”
“Then why don’t we just fight you now, and -then- we can take the ring?”
“But then I wouldn’t have a chance to give my speech.” Enara wasn’t sure exactly how it was possible for a ghost/poltergeist/restless spirit/whatever to sound petulant, but somehow, this one had managed. It was an impressive feat. Annoying as swallowing a colony of fire ants, and almost as painful, but still pretty impressive.
“That’s kinda the point. I’m trying to get away without having to listen to a nonsensical and overly long rant.”
“How do you know it’s overly long if you haven’t heard it yet?”
“Well, it… I mean…” She smacked the heel of her hand against her forehead in apparent resignation. “Let’s hear the speech.”
“Smashing.” He cleared his throat. A second later, it occurred to Enara that seeing as how ghosts tended to not have throats and certainly couldn’t get any air inside one, anyway, it didn’t seem entirely possible for a ghost to be -able- to clear his throat. She quickly dismissed that line of inquiry, however - to think about it any further meant dancing with the distinct possibility of going mad. She chose to sit this one out. Besides, she’d chosen to wear her boots instead of her ballet slippers and she hated dancing while wearing inappropriate footwear.
His eyes began to glow red, and he put a hand up to his mouth, palm facing outward and the back of the hand just touching the corner of his… “lips” – it was the kind of thing someone did when they wanted to whisper something and make sure it wasn’t heard by anyone else. “I had the red eyes installed a century ago. Got a good deal on the contract work, you know.”
“Congratulations,” she replied, her voice completely devoid of enthusiasm.
“I hope you realize that you’re not really getting into the spirit of this.”
“I’m kinda in a hurry. I forgot to pee before we left the inn this morning.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
“Ok, well, I guess I can try and hustle this up, then.”
“Could ya? That’d be great.”
He flipped through his notecards. Enara didn’t ask where he’d managed to keep that small stack of 3 x 5 index cards for the past half millennium. “Um… lessee… well, the crux of it would be… FOOLISH MORTALS! YOU WOULD DARE TO DISTURB THE SLUMBER OF THE MIGHTY ED, THE UNDYING?!”
One of Enara’s eyebrows rose higher than the other. “I thought your name was Kangaxx.”
“Kan-what? Who told you that?”
Imoen raised her hand. “I read it on the side of this sarcophagus. See? It’s right there.” She pointed to a small, engraved plaque on the side of the stone coffin. “The people who buried you must have put it there.”
Ed made a noise that sounded like a growl. “This is the last time I hire non-union. Last time.”
Enara blinked in mild confusion. “So… your name… it’s just… ‘Ed?’ I mean, I figured it’d be something like Ed-ra or Ed-hotep or… y’know… Ed-ward-o-herlihy.”
“Ed was my great-great-great-grandfather’s name,” he replied, his voice laced with heavily stressed patience. “He came from a very long and distinguished line.” For a ghostly apparition, he’d managed a passably good “imperious chin tilt.”
“I didn’t mean to offend.”
“Well, you did.”
“I’m very sorry.”
“You should be.”
“I am.”
“Good.”
There was a pause as the two antagonists stared each other down.
“Are we going to fight now?” Enara asked, her hands sliding down her sides to the hilts of the twin blades belted at her hips. She bounced lightly on the balls of her feet, ready to dart quickly to the side if need be, and her knees had bent slightly as well which would make it easier to spring into action – should any such springing be necessary. (Given the way things were looking, the need for springing was growing exponentially.)
“I suppose we should. It’s kind of what adventurers and ancient undead horrors tend to do when they meet.”
“Well, we could just have tea,” Imoen chimed in.
Ed snapped his… finger-bones. “Not a bad idea, and normally, I’d be so there. I’ve got this absolutely scrumptious Assam I’d had tucked away for a rainy day. It’s stashed in one of the jars in this room. Can’t remember which one off the top of my head, though. Anyway, thing is, there are rules about this stuff. Killing, maiming, eternal damnation, that’s the sort of thing that’s expected of us. Not so much with the tea parties, though. Shame, too. Did I mention I had this really good Assam blend?”
Enara managed to keep a straight face. “Yes.” She took a breath. “No tea. Gotcha. Rules is rules. Fight now?” Her fingers closed slowly over the hilts of her weapons, the feeling of the grips in her hands bringing her some manner of reassurance.
“Quite. Are you sure you’re ready? Because I feel the need to warn you, the ‘undying’ thing? Totally for reals. I’ve got the ancient magic of the ages going here, and I’m seriously gonna grind you into paste. Soon, the jackal-demons of the Underworld’ll be feasting on your entrails and such like that.”
“Um. Ok.”
He waited in silence for several moments, simply staring at her. For her part, Enara merely stared back until Ed eventually broke the silence. “Well?”
“Well, what?”
“This is the part where you’re supposed to laugh in my face and say ‘Try it, old man’ or something equally pithy. By Anhur’s handlebar mustache, don’t they teach you kids anything, anymore?”
She shrugged and both of her blades came free from their scabbards. She brought them up to a combat ready position. “Um. I’m going to try and stab you now, ok?”
-----
The lightning hit her in the side, and she felt herself drop to the ground, her legs absolutely refusing to support her any longer. She fell, arms twitching, fingers clenching shut almost at random… and her heart was jumping, hammering in her chest, and flailing away so hard she thought she’d blow an artery. She looked up, but her vision was blurred, and she could just barely make out the rest of her friends still fighting for their lives.
Anomen, however, was beside her in an instant, planting his shield in the soft earth and using it to protect the both of them from their enemy’s attacks. A few magically flung chunks of stone and other debris battered themselves against the thick shield but the barrier held firm as he knelt down to tend to her.
“What would… your fellow knights say… if they found out you took advantage of me… without… without even buying me dinner first?” The joke came out sounding pained. She was having a hard time catching a good breath, and every time she tried to breathe deeply, an upsetting wheezing noise accompanied it.
Despite himself, he blushed. Just a tiny bit. Hard to see because of the beard, but it was there. She knew what to look for. He didn’t pull his hands away, though, instead, slipping his fingers underneath the hem of her tunic to find the patch of singed skin around her ribs that marked the lightning bolt’s impact. He chanted a soft prayer, his eyes closing, and she could feel the healing magic take hold. Her breathing eased, her strength returned, and she was able to sit up, though her legs remained a little wobbly. “I… I need another minute,” she said, fighting to steady herself. “But you should… should help the others. I’ll be ok.”
He nodded, but only reluctantly, and stood, pressing a vial into the palm of her hand. She looked at it. It was a potent healing potion, and while the party was exceptionally well-equipped, this level of magic was still far from commonplace in their inventory. She knew he wouldn’t take “no” for an answer, though, and nodded herself, downing the contents in one gulp. She tilted her chin upwards to look him in the eye. “Go.”
He turned, hefted his shield and hammer and waded back into the fray, calling out to their opponent and distracting him just long enough to allow his besieged comrades a small window of reprieve.
Minsc was the first to see the opportunity and the berserker used it to counterattack. His sword had been knocked from his hands, but nearby lay a heavy canopic jar. Seizing it as the first available weapon, the ranger lifted it over his head and hurled it at the spectral form in the center of the chamber. The wailing spirit turned, its red eyes going wide as the large earthen container flew towards him. He floated aside as the jar smashed against the side of his sarcophagus, sending its contents spilling across the ground. His already red eyes began to glow even more brightly. “Hey! Those… those are my -organs-!” he cried out. “All right, now you’ve just gone and pissed me off! ED SMASH!”
-----
Enara lunged forward. She rotated her shoulder and snapped her arm outwards, turning a simple stab with her right blade into a vicious lunge. The point of the enchanted sword bit deep into Ed’s chest, the rest of the blade following through behind it until a good foot and a half of the magical steel was embedded in the ghost’s… substance. There was a flash of magic as he tried to strike back at her, but she pulled her weapon free and dodged to the side, using her natural agility to keep herself out of harm’s way. That first lightning strike had stung a little. She didn’t intend on letting him land another.
The damage was already done, however, and with a tortured rasp, the already faint outline of Ed’s presence began to fade away, Enara’s strike apparently damaging enough to destroy the spectral form. As the ghostly apparition began to disappear, the golden bones that had started the whole mess began to reappear, seemingly out of thin air until the entire skeleton materialized in front of them, still hovering several feet off the ground. Abruptly, the collection of bones dropped, clattering to the floor of the burial chamber and lying completely motionless. Enara carefully stepped over the fallen husk on her way to the sarcophagus and the ring that lay inside. It was nearly within her reach when she suddenly felt a cold, bony grip on her ankle.
“Nar! Look… out?” Imoen’s voice had gone from concern and surprise to clear confusion.
“Not that easy, kiddo. Undying, remember?”
The kensai muttered. “Damn. I was hoping you were just bluffing.”
“Nope.”
-----
Ed’s skeletal form wasn’t nearly as resilient as his previous one, but his control of magical energies remained undiminished, making him as dangerous an opponent as he’d been at the beginning of the fight. Still, the adventurers were well accustomed to working with each other and though the battle had more than its share of tense moments, they prevailed once again.
“Boo is sure he saw Mr. Ed move.”
“Hey. Ed. You still alive?”
A raspy voice came from the pile of chipped, golden bones on the ground. “Yeah. Be with you in a sec.”
Enara watched, slightly stunned, as the lich got back to his feet, leaning on the sarcophagus to catch his “breath” a little. “Okay,” he said. “You ready to give up yet? ‘cause… you know, jackal-demons. Don’t forget the jackal-demons.”
She threw him a slightly miffed look. “I remember. It’s ok. I’m not worried.”
He shrugged. “Your funeral.”
-----
“Ok. Now I’m ticked.”
“Look. Ed. Give it up. You’ve got an arm off. The ring’s ours.”
“You will NEVER defeat Ed the Undying, mortal!”
She looked to her friends, shrugged, and sighed.
-----
Ed growled in inarticulate fury, his red eyes still blazing (though not as brightly as before.)
“Dude. Come -on-,” said Enara. “This is ridiculous.”
“UNDYING!”
“Ugh.”
-----
The lich reeled backwards, stunned by a heavy impact across the side of the head from Anomen’s warhammer. As he staggered, another expert swing followed, smashing both legs at the knees, sending the bones flying clean away from the pelvis they’d once been attached to. What was left continued to crawl towards the party, using its one remaining arm to try and pull the badly mangled torso forward.
Enara slapped the heel of her hand against her face and dragged it from forehead to mouth. “Oh, for the love of- ok, I’m starting to feel guilty now…”
Standing behind her, Minsc cradled a quivering Boo in his large hands. “Enara, we have kicked this evil lich’s butt so hard, it no longer has a butt to kick, and yet… and yet he refuses to lay down for nap time! Boo is starting to become worried.”
Imoen pouted as Ed’s severed hand finger-clawed its way over to her. She kicked at it with her foot. “Ewwww! Stay down! Just stay down!” Her hands moved as she muttered the words to a quick spell. A few feet away from her, a giant, magically animated broom poofed into existence. It quickly set about sweeping Ed’s remains into a corner of the room. The rest of the party studiously did their best to ignore the groans and muttered curses still coming from the golden skull as it was swept into a magic dustpan.
-----
They promptly returned the recovered ring to the Order chapterhouse where the Prelate was only too happy to receive it.
“You have the ring? Well done! Now we can pack it in an unlabelled wooden crate and stash it in a secret warehouse full of similar crates somewhere, where it’s likely that no one will ever see it again. Thanks for your help!”
Enara shuffled her feet. “Erm. That’s it? That’s pretty anti-climactic.”
“Hmm, yeah, you’re probably right. You like parades? We could throw a parade.”
“Sure.”
And one quick (though enjoyable) tickertape parade later, she and the rest were standing back in front of the Council Hall, picking bits of confetti out of their hair and wondering what they should do next.
The End.
