Previously...
Back at the Keep negotiations between Idvard and the weird little Unchild representing the Grunters proceeds apace while Bujilli and Leeja attend to some other matters...
Hedrard's amulet pulsed three times.
"So; should we stay or should we go?" Leeja closed the door behind them. The negotiations would go along just fine without them for now. They'd check back later.
"Go to the mirror, boy."
Bujilli paused in mid-stride. He could feel the warmth of the amulet on his chest. Hedrard's amulet. She was trying to reach him. It was time to go see her. Almost.
"What is it?" Leeja reached out to him, a look of concern on her face.
"It's Hedrard. She's trying to contact me. I just heard her voice." He looked up and down the hallway they were in; no mirrors in sight.
"What did she say?"
"I'm supposed to go to a mirror, only there aren't any right at hand..." He remembered something about an ancient war and how all the mirrors in Wermspittle were kept behind shutters, doors or drapes. After having met Sprague's doppleganger he could see why it was a bad idea to leave a mirror out in the open like an open window or door.
"We had best get you some more arrows. Even better, we should both get ourselves prepared as best we can manage for what is coming; I have a feeling that things are going to get loud and violent sooner, rather than later and we'd better be ready."
"I had hoped to go to the library..."
"Arsenal first. Library second. Then there's a mirror in your room..."
"There are four arsenals, two armories, and more than a dozen weapons-caches, not counting the racks beside each of the major guard positions; which would you like to visit first?" Jumdrim the Steward stepped out of a too-narrow aperture behind them. Despite being dressed like some sort of jester or clown, he appeared somber even serious as he held out his hand to Bujilli.
"What is that?" Leeja asked, instantly suspicious of the strange steward.
"I was instructed to make the proper adjustments to Bujilli's ring. It will allow you to summon and command up to twenty drones, as specified in your agreement with Idvard. It's a simple matter. Won't hurt a bit." There was a small milky blue lozenge in the steward's outstretched hand.
Bujilli began to remove the ring Idvard had given him as a token of their various agreements.*
"No need to remove the ring. If you'll allow me..." Jumdrim deftly placed the smooth blue stone onto the ring and it rapidly melted into the black and yellow striped metal band, forming a small blue oval that appeared to float within the metal itself.
"There. Now you can summon your drones and they will recognize your commands. You were discussing your immediate plans. I couldn't help but overhear. Might I be of some assistance? Unless you'd prefer to wander about on your own. I understand that you're both used to that sort of thing..."
"Time is of the essence, more likely than not. Which way is the closest place we can replace our arrows and so forth?" Bujilli wasn't sure what to make of the slender Spirk with his ruffled collar and exaggerated features; the little man reminded him of things the Comprachicos were said to do to some of their prisoners...only his features were really and truly his own and not the product of torture and surgery.
"Will this do?" Jumdrim bowed with a flourish and a pop and they found themselves standing before a battered old desk where a bored looking Tsalalian woman wearing an antique civil defense helmet sat glaring at them. Her hair was arranged in rows of tight braids, each one terminating in a tiny obsidian skull.
"Nicely!" Leeja began to examine the racks and shelves and stacks of crates arranged around the room. It was time to go shopping.
"This is Bujilli, that is Leeja; they are special guests of Idvard and have free access to the arsenal. Rilma here is our recently-hired Mistress-at-Arms. She can assist you in locating and collecting anything you might need." Jumdrim slipped back through another too-narrow aperture, leaving them to the tender mercies of this fighting woman whose lustrous ebony skin seemed to be composed almost entirely of layer upon layer of battle-scars...or were they ritual markings...it was difficult to tell for certain as they seemed to flow like weather patterns within her flesh.
"I thought you would be taller. She's too pretty to be much of a fighter, not like everyone has been making her out to be. Huh. So, what kind of mayhem-makers and damage-dealers are you two looking for then?"
"I need some arrows..."
Meanwhile...
She remembered it had been raining when they struck off the manacles. They had been friends of one of the other prisoners. Her foot had slipped into a crack and she had gotten stuck. She remembered looking into the eyes of the hairy little fellow, how he really would have come back for her if she hadn't yelled and swore and warned him off. Then the section of wall collapsed and she toppled with it, sliding and skidding and tumbling down, down, down through the rain and the rubble and the screams and thunder.
It was something of a shock to wake up surrounded by darkness and silence, all the more so since she had not expected to ever wake up again. Stiff and sore, damp and dirty, she wasn't sure where in the Gormenstille she had wound up, but she was more determined than ever to escape from this hateful place...
She remembered it had been raining when they struck off the manacles. They had been friends of one of the other prisoners. Her foot had slipped into a crack and she had gotten stuck. She remembered looking into the eyes of the hairy little fellow, how he really would have come back for her if she hadn't yelled and swore and warned him off. Then the section of wall collapsed and she toppled with it, sliding and skidding and tumbling down, down, down through the rain and the rubble and the screams and thunder.
It was something of a shock to wake up surrounded by darkness and silence, all the more so since she had not expected to ever wake up again. Stiff and sore, damp and dirty, she wasn't sure where in the Gormenstille she had wound up, but she was more determined than ever to escape from this hateful place...
Twenty yellow-metal fletched arrows in a heavy Bruthem-hide quiver. A scimitar with a green-sheen on the ornately etched and incised blade. Several new throwing knives and a tightly-packed net fashioned from some sort of metallic fibers. They had both found a few things worth picking up at the arsenal. Rilma had been very helpful. She clearly knew her way around weapons and had helped them both re-do their harnesses so that everything was more accessible and less likely to bind or to get in the way at the worst possible moment. Neither of them had ever realized how complicated a suit of armor could be with all the knots and ties, joints and seams, and all Rilma's talk of weight distribution and airflow and other such tactical esoterica had left them both thankful they did not wear anything more complicated than what they already wore.
Jumdrim appeared just as they left the arsenal and took them to the library. The chairs were comfortable, as was the fireplace and the tea service, both of which were managed by a pair of green monkeys wearing pillbox caps and gloves--black for the fire-keeper and white for the tea-tender.
"As you can see," Jumdrim gestured expansively behind himself at the many half-assembled and mostly empty book-shelves; "We have a lot of work to catch up on. Unfortunately, with all the troubles we've had with the Grunters below, there hasn't been time to get the new library into working order yet. We may have to hire-on a few assistant librarians, once things settle down, of course."
"Of course." Leeja sipped her tea and stared at the stacks of books, boxes of books, sacks of books piled all over the place. She kept looking for a cat to peek out from behind one of the piles.
"Might I assist you in finding something in particular?"
"Would you have anything handy that would be effective against fungal-things? Spells suitable for use in subterranean spaces in particular would be good..."
"Hmmm....yes...I think we might have something along those lines." Jumdrim made a series of fluid gestures as he cast a spell that formed a small gleaming golden sphere that crackled with vril as it hovered inches above the palm of his left hand; "This will help me to find what you're looking for..." The golden sphere lifted into the air and swooped this way and that as if searching or following the scent of a particular book or treatise. It zipped up one aisle and down another, zig-zagging and loop-de-looping as it went along. Then it stopped. It buzzed. It returned to Jumdrim, but at the last second veered and slipped past him to hover directly above Bujilli's belt-pouch.
"Interesting." Jumdrim regarded Bujilli drolly, as though not particularly amused at having his time wasted.
"I think it likes you..." Leeja jested.
"What does it mean?" Bujilli watched the golden sphere roll and spin and wobble as it held station right at his side.
"It means that you are already carrying such spells as you requested. I suggest that you take advantage of the opportunity to reacquaint yourself with the contents of whatever you have with you. Negotiations are proceeding apace and I suspect you have at least an hour before they will be done with the preliminaries. I'll have the kitchen send you something to eat if you'd like."
"Thank you. That would be wonderful." Leeja sank back in her overstuffed chair and slurped her tea. A nap sounded lovely.
"Yes. Thank you." Bujilli snapped open his belt pouch. He touched the spine of one booklet, journal or compact digest after another until the golden sphere buzzed and he knew he had the right one. He removed the booklet; it was a thickly-covered and waterproofed traveler's edition of The Yellow Pages. The cover was more like a jointed box or shell that fully enclosed the book. It required a key to open the thing. The golden sphere buzzed three times in rapid succession then clattered to the little table in between Leeja and Bujilli's chairs. It had taken on the form of a golden key.
"I'll leave you to it then."
Bujilli picked up the key and opened the book. It smelled like peaches. The book was printed in Zanjik, which he recognized from a set of frond-scrolls his uncle had taken from the corpse of a rival sorcerer. His uncle had refused to teach him how to read that language. It was not one of the scripts that lent itself to magical translation; it was one of the languages one either learned the hard way or not at all.
Disgusted, he flipped through the book. Pictures, diagrams, symbols--his hand froze in place. Yellow filaments extended from a particular symbol made up on jagged crescents and swirls. He tried to pull his hand away but it wouldn't budge. The filaments jabbed at the palm of his hand. Blood dripped onto the book, seeping deep into the page with the symbol. He couldn't move, couldn't make a sound; the filaments stabbed into his flesh again and again and again. Like a bird pecking at seed, or a needle dragging thread through cloth--no not quite that--it was marking him, imprinting him with the symbol.
He had asked for a spell.
Now he had one tattooed into the palm of his left hand.
The filaments flowed back into the book. He slumped back into his chair. The book closed. Locked. The golden sphere oozed out of the lock and faded away with a final buzz.
"Ah. Good. You've finished. You're needed in the informal dining room. I think that they are about ready to come to terms."
Bujilli glared at the steward. Leeja woke with a start. She looked at Bujilli. He looked away. This wasn't the time to get into it.
He got up from his chair, as did she. Jumdrim bowed slightly then opened the door. Instead of the hallway it led directly into the dining room. They both entered and took their seats.
Idvard nodded to them both. He seemed pleased at the way things were going.
"What was that?" hissed the Unchild.
The double-doors across from Bujilli flew open.
Shael walked in dragging the limp form of a very bedraggled looking Cuckoo-girl; the very one that had led the ambush on them.
"You bitch! You're not going to ruin this for me!" The Unchild lunged, both pudgy little hands rapidly going through a series of abrupt, violent gestures as grotesque, wrongly echoing words vibrated from her snout in a trail of black sparks. Before anyone could stop her, the little pig-thing was across the table and clutching Idvard. With a vicious snarl she bit into the flesh under his leftmost eye. Blood spattered. Idvard screamed. The Unchild squealed as he tried to dislodge her.
Bortho appeared beside Idvard. He had his morningstar in-hand, but could not get into position quickly enough to strike the squealing pig-thing without also striking his employer.
Zutissa appeared on the opposite side. She grabbed the Unchild around the mid-section. A shower of black sparks sent her flying across the room. She hit the far wall then crumpled to the floor and lay still. Bortho swung his weapon but before he could connect another shower of black sparks sent him flying almost on top of Bujilli who caught him. He set Bortho down in the chair next to him and checked to see if his friend was still alive. There was a pulse. He seemed to be breathing, but he was unconscious and terribly burned. The smell made Bujilli nauseous.
The Unchild snarled, yawped then tore Idvard's eye out. She spat it onto the table and laughed at their shocked expressions of horror.
"I will lead the Purple Horde here to your Keep myself!"
"But why?" Bujilli rose from beside his fallen friend, one hand on his fighting wand, a spell forming in his mind.
"Why?" The Unchild laughed; "Because you are all weak and doomed. The worldkillers are coming and there's nothing you can do to stop them."
"Your people have sworn to serve--"
"I never swore to serve anyone, least of all you."
Leeja threw one of her new knives, but the Unchild was already gone.
Idvard collapsed to the floor in a bloody, shuddering mess. Bujilli went to him. Leeja went to check Zutissa.
"What was that thing?" Shael stood in the doorway, shocked by the suddenness of the Unchild's attack on Idvard.
"Someone that had the right idea!" The Cuckoo-girl twisted in Shael's grip and bit her on the thigh.
The cuckoo-girl rushed to Bortho's unconscious body and took his dagger.
Shael started to form a spell, but she was too weak, too injured, so instead she punched the kid in the face. The girl dropped the dagger out of surprise. Her eyes began to glow.
"Not on your best day." Shael knocked the girl flat, then picked up the dagger. Her left-side was crazed with cracks and blood and fragments of glass that had once been her skin. She looked over at Bujilli; "I'm not sure what has been going on. But I do know that this little brat had no idea who any of us were when she attacked. She was after someone else entirely."
"Do you know who she was after?"
"Yes. She was after Gnosiomandus."
Hedrard's amulet pulsed three times.
"Go to the mirror, boy."
What should Bujilli & Leeja do next?
You Decide!
* See Episode 49.
Synchronocitor Status: Fully Recharged.
What should they do now?
Okay...so we dealt with the trip to the arsenal and picked-out a few new toys. Bujilli has a new spell that is imprinted into the palm of his hand and Leeja did have a pleasant nap in the library. And we've reconnected with Shael.
But the little oinkerling Unchild has proven completely untrustworthy; she's just betrayed herself, after a fashion, which takes some doing. And now she's off to go find the Purple Horde, if we can trust anything that nasty little thing says...
So, Idvard is injured (grievously), Zutissa is injured, Bortho is injured, and Shael is a real mess, so they could use some medical assistance. If someone would roll a percentile die (1-100), that'd be helpful in determining whether or not there is a healer available on the premises. There's a 30% chance that a healer is available, anything over 30% means that the healer(s) are all busy or incapacitated from the previous gas attacks.
The cuckoo-girl might be playing possum. that's a 50-50 sort of thing, so either roll another percentile die, or roll a d6 (or flip a coin) and we'll say that even means she's faking, odd means she's actually knocked out.
Hedrard is really trying to get in touch with Bujilli right now. Perhaps she could help Idvard--she is a healer, among various other things. Maybe they can ask Jumdrim to bring in a mirror to contact her from this room? Or is that perhaps a bad idea?
With Idvard incapacitated and his two lieutenants badly injured...who is in charge around here? Once the rest of the staff learns about what happened, we'll need a Morale Check (2d6, as per page 56 of the Labyrinth Lord book).
We also need a 1d6 roll to check for possible Wandering Monsters. A result of 1 means there's an encounter and a 6 means that there is an event, probably some Damned Thing or another. I'll post a Wandering Monster chart for Idvard's Keep early next week.
Let me know what you think they ought to do in the comments below, or via email and we'll resume things next week!
What do they do next?
You Decide!
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About Bujilli (What is This?) | Who is Bujilli? | How to Play
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