Bujilli: Episode 81

Previously...
Bujilli, Leeja, and Gnosiomandus have returned from some sort of mezzoglunic-underworld with a very injured and bloody Sprague in-tow. No sooner do they arrive back at the Oneirical Studies reception area than they find themselves confronted by the Headmistress of the Academy at Wermspittle. She's angry. She wants answers. And she's not alone.

Shattered bits of glass-like mirror-flesh were everywhere.

Three women stood at the edge of the debris. A long cool woman in a black dress. A hag with over-sized owlish eyes and a lop-sided leer. A tall, elegant woman in a bone-white fighting gown wielding an intricately carved oak staff. Mistress Eberhard. Hedrard. The Headmistress...or her simulacrum...Bujilli wasn't sure if this was the impostor or the actual Headmistress. He hoped Gnosiomandus would have some way to discern the truth of the matter.

There was no sign of either Gudrun or Sharisse. Just the results of their exuberant handiwork.

"That's far enough. I will have some answers..." Headmistress Shaell held up her shimmering left hand. Ice crackled as it frosted across the floor before her. Bujilli could feel the spell's frustration at being held back. It noticed him.

"Now." She stared at Bujilli for much longer than he would have liked before turning her gaze upon Gnosiomandus.

"Good. You're here. Hedrard; Sprague here is in dire need of your assistance."

"Is it Sprague?" Hedrard cocked her head to the side to get a better look at the battered and bedraggled form of the Master Oneirist.

"Yes. That much we managed to get right. This is our Sprague...though I fear, not your Sprague madam." He stared back at the Headmistress.

Hedrard shambled over and began to inspect Sprague's wounds, tut-tutting the while.

"You have engaged the enemy. What did you learn?" Did Mistress Eberhard drew back ever so slightly from the Headmistress? Perhaps it was a trick of the light.

"Explain yourself Gnosiomandus." The Headmistress demanded. Her hair, so like Leeja's, writhed about her head in a false halo of ivory flames. Her eyes flashed violet. Her power was patently obvious and much too immanent for anyone's liking.

"Your husband was taken." Gnosiomandus leaned upon a weathered and worn oak staff that had not been in his hands only a moment before. Bujilli recognized it as his mentor's staff of office. He remembered it from the time in the Arena. During Leeja's Entrance Exam.

"But this is Sprague here..." Headmistress Shael lowered her left hand. The frost curling about it receded back into places in-between legitimate spaces with a soft yowl of irritation. She stood stunned in painful realization.

"Yes. This is Sprague. But this is not the man you married Shael." Gnosiomandus averted his eyes. Steeled himself to face her wrath. Once again.

"Are you sure old man? Absolutely certain? I married the man I knew as Sprague..."

"No. You married his impostor. A twisted reflection. One of the Mirror-born. I'm certain of it, as are both of my pupils."

"And what would they know of this matter?"

Bujilli felt his hackles raise as she regarded him once more; "We were ambushed by the impostor, the Not-Sprague, when we came here earlier..."

"How do you know it was an impostor?"

"I was there Shael. We followed the impostor down past the foundations, deep into the Grimdark. We passed through the gates of Weregall..."

"That is forbidden."

"But not to our enemies. Make all the rules and prohibitions you like, but they are not binding on any but those under your authority. We've neglected and ignored the Mezzoglunes for far too long, and now some one has used our ignorance against us."

"How? How is this possible? We have guards, wards, protections..."

"All defenses can and will be breached, given time and incentive. It is the nature of warfare. The Near Deeps are secured by the Sewer Militia and Unterkorps, despite their bickering and politicking, Beatrice would know of anything coming at us from that quarter, usually well before the commanders of either group. If they had used some sort of Transition Mechanism, or passed through one of the Near Planes, I would have known it, or you would. The Cold Roads and the Woods Between the Worlds are patrolled by Hedrard's kin and their allies. Likewise if they had used a paracosm or crossed over through the Dreamwastes or Slumberland, Sprague would have known."

"Exactly--" Headmistress Shael paused. stared at Gnosiomandus in abject disbelief.

"Yes. He has been held captive in his own room for a considerable while now thanks in no small part to some well-played treachery, as well as our mutually damnable arrogance. They struck by surprise and were able to subdue Sprague but they couldn't transfer him out of his sanctum. So they bound him in Black Iron. Drained his essence. Substituted an Impostor who moved through our ranks unsuspected and unchecked."

"Are you saying that this impostor was not only Mirrorborn but some sort of vampire as well? And all our defenses were...are...effectively useless?"

"I'm not entirely certain, but they were draining his essence, as Hedrad can confirm, and I suspect they were using it to assist in their masquerade. Engorged upon his essence, they would effectively be him. A major flaw in our thinking. As to our defenses, they have been compromised. Severely." Gnosiomandus looked a million years old leaning on his staff. It was bitter news he wished he didn't have to deliver. Not again.

"As has Sprague..." Mistress Eberhard stood before Gnosiomandus. Put one talon-like hand upon his shoulder; "For how long? How long have they been among us?"

"Hedrard will know."

"More than a year, I'd say, based upon his condition. I need to get him back to my rooms where I can do more for him. He's in a bad way. They would have killed him in another couple of weeks of this sort of treatment. As it is, it'll be touch and go whether he survives. I'm calling Lemuel to help carry him back, and I'll have a strixin to serve as my proxy while I'm tending to Sprague." She looked over to Shael; "With your permission, of course."

"Yes. Do what you think best. Do what you can for him."

"No promises. But I'll do what can be done. I always do."

"More than a year then. That coincides with the unsealing of the closed Arena and the Old Governor's attempt to subvert the Entrance Exams." Mistress Eberhard looked meaningfully at Bujilli and Leeja.

"They've had time to do quite a bit of mischief."

"You pursued the Impostor...my husband...past the barred gates of Weregall..."

"The Great Doors were already open--"

"Excuse me. I will see to it that they are fully closed and re-warded." Mistress Eberhard stalked off to attend to the matter personally.

"Lemuel is here. We'll take Sprague now. For what it is worth, I have full confidence in Shael's ability to get things sorted out and set to rights. I don't envy you what lies ahead. Not one bit. But I believe that you'll do what needs to be done." And Hedrard waddled off with Lemuel carrying Sprague's unconscious body.

"Please continue." Shael leaned on her staff. Her burdens seemed to be multiplying by the minute.

"To make a long story short, we were unable to get to the boat in time. They were taking your husband in the direction of Aman Utal by way on the Underchannels."

"But Weregall does not extend that far."

"No. It doesn't. It's a distorted reflection, hence it was declared off-limits during the Achuin Occupation. They were the ones who instituted the laws against uncovered mirrors and all that. They were not heading to Aman Utal, but rather were moving to the periphery of the space, probably with then intent to slip past the spatial membrane at some point and reach any number of alternate locales...parallel realms...any number of regions we have not even begun to explore."

"So they intended for you to see them going in that direction. But was it to throw us off their trail, or to falsely implicate someone else, or what? Why would they do any of this?" Her voice cracked. It was too much, too fast, and far too twisted to sort out easily. For a moment Shael looked like a hurt little girl, an old woman withered by too many years of crises and challenges.

"I hesitate to speculate as to their strategy or motives at this time. But now that we know something of what has been going on, and we have Sprague delivered from their un-tender mercies, we can begin to--"

"You will recall your nephew from Iltarsha. He is to be here within the week and he will assume captaincy and command over the riders patrolling the Cold Roads. As he petitioned, and as you advised months ago. You will also recall your daughter from Ustria, with or without her husband. She is to assume command of the Academy Guard, in tandem with Beatrice's efforts, of course."

"If you wish--"

"I do wish it and so command it. As of now. We all have a lot of work to do. I am going to go meet with the Commandant Zulmer of the Wall Guard stationed at the Inner Ramparts and afterwards I'll go see Silas Grompf. The old bastard owes me a drink, so he cannot refuse to meet with me."

"Are you--"

"I wasn't finished. I am going to have Beatrice pay a call on her allies in the Red Watch and the Cellar Inspectors. Hedrard can contact the crones and grand-dams among the Midwives. Jilleen will go speak to the Mayor's office and I will ask Runeeth to serve as a liaison with those who prefer to not be named. You are going to go talk to your friends and allies. I am calling for a Summit."

"There's never been--"

"This affects everyone. We've been hiding behind our walls for too long. Holding back from getting directly involved in local events. We can no longer rely upon our old defenses, nor our old ways. Those days are over. Everything changes now." Headmistress Shael seemed to be speaking directly to Bujilli.

"They'll never agree--"

"I couldn't care less what they think that they will or won't do. They'll come. Now. As to these two pupils of yours. I have a task I would assign them, but I do not wish to interrupt their training--"

"Neither of us have been able to begin our actual training, Headmistress." Leeja bowed demurely.

"No. They haven't. Every time I turn around they're both off and running and having adventures and getting entangled with sordid schemes and--"

"Excellent. Then you won't mind if I send them on an errand?"

"Go ahead. You will any how."

"Yes. I will. but I am being polite while I still can. Soon enough that may not be an option."

"How may we serve you Headmistress?" Bujilli stood next to Leeja, both of them eager to get going.

"You can either bring your friend Idvard to me within the hour, or you can go to see Morquin in the Athenaeum and request his presence in the Chamber of Consultation, also within the hour."

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Which task should they agree to?

1) Go get Idvard and bring him to the Headmistress?
  - or -
2) Go see Morquin in the Athenaeum, and get him to answer the summons of the Headmistress?

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If someone would care to do the honors, We could use a pair of D20 rolls.

What happens next is up to you, the readers.

You Decide!

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Previous                                Next

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Series Indexes

One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six

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Starting Page  |  Central Index

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About Bujilli (What is This?) | Who is Bujilli? | How to Play

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Bujilli's Character Sheet | Leeja's Character Sheet | Cast of Characters

Bujilli's Spells | Little Brown Journals | Loot Tally | House Rules

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Episode Guides
Series One (Episodes 1-19)

Series Two (Episode 20-36)

Series Three (Episodes 37-49)

Series Four (Episodes 50-68)

Series Five (Episodes 69-99)
Series Six(Episodes 100-ongoing)

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Labyrinth Lord   |   Advanced Edition Companion

Scabrous Froth

Scabrous Froth
No. Enc.: 1
Alignment: Neutral
Movement: 20' (5')
Armor Class: 8
Hit Dice: 3+
Attacks: 1 (touch)
Damage: 2d6 (+Disease)
Save: F3
Morale: 12

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Special: Immune to charms, illusions and all visual stimuli. Causes 2d4 damage to anyone using Empathy, ESP or any Detection spells within 30' of the Froth. Exudes large amounts of flammable gas that can explode when exposed to open flames, causing 2d6 damage in 10' radius increasing by 1d6/1' radius per HD. The Froth requires 3d6 turns to build-up an adequate supply for a follow-up explosion.

Nasty Things
Feculent and ferocious, Scabrous Froths are one of the more disgusting hazardous materials that Cellar Inspectors run across when investigating basements converted into unlicensed cesspools or illegal nightsoil facilities set-up to mass-produce saltpeter without paying the appropriate tax and tariff. These ferocious masses of commingled filth, blood and excrement are suspected of having been tainted by Spectral Brine, or some other effluent derived from the manufacture of White Powder that was disposed of improperly. There are numerous theories circulating about the nature of these things, but no one really knows very much about them, and most scholars are disinclined to look too closely into the matter.

In the vacuum of reliable scholarship, let alone some sensible answers, more than one Landlord has tried to prove that these infestations are not their fault, but are rather the result of their tenant's use of Hard Candy or squatters, usually Refugees, using similar untoward substances, or that the things arise from improper disposal of the offal or bloody runoff from the Killing Floors of near-by Butcher Shops. So far nothing has been proven either way.

Whatever the root-cause or origin of these direly unpleasant and foul things, the Cellar Inspectors are the ones most often stuck dealing with them, and once they are done, there's typically not enough left to study. Scholars are always welcome to collect their samples any time they'd like to go in before the Cellar Inspectors. So far no one has taken them up on their generous offer.

Mitigation Strategies
Intense heat tends to shrivel Scabrous Froth into inert clumps and ashes, if it doesn't involve an open flame, which tends to cause an explosion from the noxious gasses constantly produced all Scabrous Froths. More than one building has been destroyed in the course of attempting to mitigate an infestation by overwhelming fire-power. It is not recommended. Due the over zealousness of a group of Purifiers who destroyed six buildings in under a month in their misguided efforts to burn the things out with their flame-throwers, the Cellar Inspectors have officially banned Puritans from accompanying their efforts for the foreseeable future.

Intense cold will damage the outer edges of a Scabrous Froth, but it won't do much more than slow one down to half normal movement. Sometimes that buys enough time to address matters with something more effective. Various Purification and Cleansing spells have been tried with varying rates of success, sparking an intense, often violent debate-at-arms between those cults, sects and cabals seeking to gain notoriety for their ability to rid their neighbors of these horrid things through the benedictions and chants of their respective traditions. most of them are too eager to try and show-up the Puritans to do any real good, but a few have proven themselves capable and useful, so the Inspector General tends to turn a blind eye to these unofficial liaisons. For now.

A Recurring Nuisance, Resource, and Opportunity
These things generate enough heat to survive even the coldest winters. some Landlords will attempt to barricade a Scabrous Froth in the cellar or basement over the winter months to provide cheap heat. It might also be possible to somehow siphon off or collect the gasses produced by these things, possibly as a fuel source, but so far that hasn't worked out very well.

Several scholars have set sizable  rewards for any verifiable information regarding the root-cause or seed/germ responsible for the development of Scabrous Froths. The Cellar Inspector General has publicly offered to personally double any such reward, so long as the information obtained leads directly to the means of eradicating the things.

Delving Rappan Athak at Unseen Servant: Progress Report 1

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Intro Post  |  Ushnab  |  Delving Rappan Athuk  |  Unseen Servant Forums  |  Unseen Servant Dice Roller

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First off, if you'll excuse a personal note, I've been really ill the last few weeks. I had a lot of stuff in the queue over at my writing blog, or else it would have been as quiet as this one has been lately. Missed a convention. Even missed last Thursday's episode of Bujilli. I'm getting better. Slowly, but surely. The warmer weather helps. But even through all this, I still managed to keep up with the game on Unseen Servant. Mostly because I could check in on it at anytime during the week, and post whenever I had a lucid moment to spare or something to add to the ongoing dialogue. That has made a believer of me.

I plan on setting-up a small-scale Wermspittle game on Unseen Servant before too long...as a sort of test-drive/play-test sort of thing.

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Our group of player characters met in an inn located within a small frontier outpost on a river. Aside from selling passable ale, bad wine and not having too many fleas in the bedding, the place wasn't much to speak of...yet. It was still a bit raw; the place had the feel of one of those little enclaves that might someday grow into a town, if it survived long enough.

Eventually, some of us slept in that morning, we all gathered in the common room and over went about making preparations for our impending expedition. First off, we needed to decide upon a destination. We considered our options, asked a few impertinent questions of the locals, and finally determined that this "Mouth of Doom" sounded like the most promising place to go rummaging about for treasure and loot.

In the course of getting properly outfitted and supplied, we wound-up with two mules, loads of delving equipment, and a few hirelings. Ushnab made sure we had ten-foot poles, sacks, rope, iron spikes, all that sort of thing. Including extra rations and plenty of ale, not so much of that wine. The soil or weather hereabouts must not be conducive to good viniculture. I made a note to investigate the bee situation in the area. Perhaps a meadery might be a good investment, down the road...assuming we survived our foray into Rappan Athak, of course. But if we do survive our delving efforts into this notorious place, our fortunes will be made. Ushnnab, having been raised by dwarves, was taught from early on that one should consider their options, always look out for opportunities. Real fortunes didn't get dug out of the ground; they were made from getting those who did the digging to hand over their gold for things that they needed or wanted.

Ushnab negotiated a basic contract with the hirelings, mostly because he was flush with gold. [I rolled extremely lucky for starting gold for a change.] He also was able to get a decent deal on a sturdy if somewhat scrawny mule, named Bessemer. He also made a deposit with the the local blacksmith so they'd fashion a suit of barding for his guard dog, George. The dog-armor would be ready after we returned from our first exploratory foray. We needed to take a look at this 'Mouth of Doom,' and see what we could do about it...either in terms of looting the place or whatever.

Some of us met or crossed paths with a pair of Rangers and learned a few things about the local region, but nothing that seemed particularly troubling or immediately useful, but it was good to know that they patrolled the area and that two of them were deemed adequate for the general level of threat to be expected in this region.

Our respective business taken care of, all preparations all made, we assembled on a rather pleasant morning in front of the Inn. We looked like a small group of merchants. Mostly Elf merchants.

We set off toward the Mouth of Doom.

Not far from the little outpost, we were accosted by a band of gnolls.

Ushnab used a Sleep spell, then discovered the limits of his skill with a scimitar (lots of misses). Thankfully others in the group are more competent combatants and our group prevailed. We even managed to capture a pair of the gnolls. Interrogating them proved unsatisfying and unproductive. Ushnab advocated for hanging the gnolls as bandits, should they be released, they would only go on to attack anyone else that looked like suitable targets. Others wanted to release them. Some of the group stated that they felt it would be somehow wrong to kill what were now seen by them as helpless opponents. unfortunately, in the course of our interrogation efforts, the gnolls were allowed to learn where we were headed. An honest mistake, really more of an oversight. It was a real moral dilemna.

Ushnab is a practical sort. An Elf raised by Dwarves after getting mauled by an owlbear as a child. He knows about ambushes and bandit tricks, having rown up with tales of his foster parent's run-ins with crooked merchants, devious brigands, and so on. He knew that if the gnolls got a chance, they would kill everyone in their sleep or trail them until an opportunity to attack them presented itself. He wasn't going to let them go just so they could stir up mischief later...or run off to their raiding band and lead back a lot more of the mangy things to wipe us out. Sure, they said they were the last of their group. They were most likely lying.

So once it looked like the gnolls were going to be released, Ushnab killed them. He wasn't happy about it. But it didn't make sense to do anything else. He would have preferred to have hung them as bandits. And a warning to other bandits in the area. But hey, stuff happens. This act seems to have put off Otikas, our Magic-User. So Ushnab tends to give him a wider berth, a bit of space. It was no one's fault that the gnolls learned our destination and thus were too dangerous to let go. What had to be done, had to be done, and he did it. That's what Ushnab tells himself. Regularly and often.

After gathering up the gnoll's paltry loot, our group continued on the trail until we reached the Mouth of Doom. It was literally a large, stone face with a gaping mouth and stairs leading down into the dark depths below a hill. The group set up camp overlooking the 'Mouth,' while some took a look around the immediate area and Ushnab tied a length of rope to his belt and went down the stairs to see what he could see.

He's not a thief, but Ushnab did learn a few things from his foster-parents. So he did what he could to check for traps, to find out how far the stairs went (roughly 40'), and what he could see at the end of the rope-length with a lit torch.

There's a room of sorts down there. It has six doors, each set into a 10'x10' alcove. The whole place reeked like an open grave. Much as expected.

Ushnab returned to the group and made his report. Drank some ale. And waited to find out if the group wanted to look for an alternative entrance, or head on down the 'Mouth.' someone mentioned a small sandy patch out behind the hill to the South. That might be worth taking a look at. Some of the others were headed out that way, to take a look-see, maybe poke about with a pole or something.

Ushnab re-coiled his rope and started putting together the gear he meant to take down first. Things like spikes, a pole, more rope, that sort of thing. He was considering setting-up a cache beside whichever door they went through...if they decided to go through the 'Mouth' entrance. He liked Logan the Fighter's suggestion; start with the door that showed the most signs of recent use, or lacking that, go through the one in the direction of the sun rise. Working with the sun made a sort of symbolic sense, especially in a place notorious for being infested with undead...


To Be Continued...

Spell: Babbletize

Babbletize
Level: 2
Duration: 2 rounds per level of caster
Range: 60'

This spell causes 1d4 targets to lose the ability to speak coherently for the duration of the spell. They also cannot understand what anyone else says, nor can they read or write while so affected. Victims of this spell cannot consult their spellbooks, nor use magical scrolls. attempting to do so requires a Save, which, if they fail, results in the entry being scrambled beyond recognition or recovery.

Spell: Chartreuse Chasm

Chartreuse Chasm (Lesser)
Level: 4
Duration: 6 turns
Range: 0

Once cast, this spell can be held in reserve for 1d4 turns per level of the caster. If it is not cast at teh end of that time, the spell is lost as though miscast.  to trigger the spell, the caster must touch a spot on the ground where a jagged chasm opens up before them, spilling forth noxious greenish-yellow fumes and extending in a rough arc approximately 10 feet wide by 20 feet long, to a depth of 30 feet. The location of the chasm begins at the point designated by the caster, but can be extended out from tehre in any direction as they choose. Those falling into the chasm suffer 1d4 damage per round exposed to the corrosive vapors and are effectively blinded while within the chasm. At the end of the duration of the spell, those still caught within the chasm are forcibly ejected in a random direction and incur an additional 2d4 damage. The blindness effect wears off within 1d4 rounds after leaving the chasm.

Chartreuse Chasm (Greater)
Level: 6
Duration: 8 turns
Range: 0

The chasm called forth by this spell extends 10' per level of the caster in any combination of either width or length as they desire, and reaching a depth of 20 feet per level of the caster. The fumes released by this chasm extend out to 10 feet from each edge, and cause 1d6 damage per round to those exposed to them. Falling into the chasm causes 3d6 damage, plus an additional 2d6 damage per round, as well as forcing a Save against blindness, which becomes permanent on a failed Save. At the end of this spell those still caught within the chasm must make a successful Save or else be buried 1d4x10 feet below the surface where they are left to suffocate or dig themselves out.

Note: The blindness caused by this spell grants the victims a permanent ability to sense the presence of corrosive substances within 30'. this uncanny after-effect persists even if the blindness is somehow cured by spells, potions or whatever.

Spell: Idravon's Fumigatory Vengance

Idravon's Fumigatory Vengance
Level: 3
Duration: 3d4 Turns (Plus 1 Turn per level of caster)
Range: 30'

A silent but deadly stream of noxious-green vapor billows forth from the caster's mouth. The deadly vapor tends to cling to the ground and rolls forward from the caster at a rate of 1d4 feet per turn until the spell ends, at which point it rapidly disperses. The vapors will always seek a lower elevation, and will infiltrate any holes, ruts, caves, pits, warrens, tunnels, nests, etc. encountered at which point the range of the spell extends downwards into the earth. All verminous creatures under 2 Hit Dice caught within the vapors must make a Save or die. Those that do make a Save are disoriented for 1d4 Turns. Swarms are affected as though each HD of the swarm were a 1 HD entity, any portions of a swarm surviving this spell are reduced to one HD and will seek to escape or avoid the caster.

Spell: Hold Shadow

Hold Shadow
Level: 2
Duration: 2d6 turns
Range: 20'

This spell immobilizes any type of shadow. In the case of normal shadows cast by living beings, those affected must make a Save or experience a slight bit of nausea, effectively losing initiative (re-roll at -2) and having their movement rate reduced by one-half for the duration of the spell. Magical, undead and similar sorts of shadows are immobilized and take double damage from all successful attacks as well as suffering a -2 penalty on their resistance to Clerical Turning, for the duration of the spell.

Spell: Dorind's Demulcent Yellow Hand

Dorind's Demulcent Yellow Hand
Level: 2
Duration: 1d4 rounds/level of caster
Range: Self

The caster's hand (either one) becomes temporarily pock-marked with hundreds of tiny glandular nodes that secrete a sweet-smelling yellowish mucous that has a number of curative qualities, not the least of which is its ability to neutralize airborne poisons or spoors and soothing inflamed mucous membranes, allowing those exposed to corrosive fumes, toxic gasses, or dangerous fungi to recover at triple the normal rate. The recipient suffers a -2 penalty to DEX for the duration of the spell, and cannot hold anything in the affected hand. The 'salve' produced by this spell continues to be secreted through the duration of the spell which cannot be interrupted once cast. It loses its healing properties at the end of the spell's duration and cannot be stored for later. For some so far undetermined reason this spell tends to attract any and all worm-like creatures within 120' radius, which has led to it being abused by certain unscrupulous adventurer-types as a sort of bait on their underground hunting expeditions.

Spell: Egregious Effusion

Egregious Effusion
Level: 2
Duration: 6 Rounds
Range: 30'

This spell forces 1d4 targets caught within its area of effect to uncontrollably give vent to all their negative emotions and opinions. Those affected get so caught-up in their ranting that they must make a Save or begin violently lashing out at a randomly selected target--anyone within reach/range. Anyone surviving such an attack incurs a permanent -1 penalty of all subsequent Morale and Reaction Rolls involving the person that attacked them while under the influence of this spell.