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.

Bujilli: Episode 80

Previously...
They missed the boat. After all they had gone through, everything they'd done, they were too late. The Head Mistress of the academy at Wermspittle had been abducted. Her captors were carrying her off to Aman Utal. At least that was what Gnosiomandus had said, and most likely believed...

Sprague hacked up more blood. Collapsed. His wounds were bad. He needed serious medical attention.

Gnosiomandus slumped against a fractured section of retaining wall. His eyes closed. Nearly unconscious.

Leeja seethed in barely contained rage. Her claws scratched furrows across the wall.

Bujilli watched the boat pass around the nearer harbor defense tower. He considered his options as he walked a quick circuit around their position. His hands felt heavy. His shadow dragged across the paving stones, as though hesitant to follow him. He smiled.

"Your spell that brought us into that courtyard from Sprague's chambers," He took hold of Gnosiomandus by his shoulder and shook him lightly. Insistently. "It was some sort of Oneiric spell. Wasn't it?"

"Yes." The old man wheezed. Shifted against the wall. One eye opened ever so slightly. "So what of it?"

"You're not an Oneirist." Bujilli half-challenged, half-accused.

"No. I'm not. But I am an Unnatural Philosopher. I know a bit about many different disciplines and such."

"Of course. But who taught you that spell?"

"Why Sprague and I exchanged a few things between us, as a professional courtesy, years ago. What of it?"

"What did you give to him in exchange for those spells?"

"Scheiss!" Gnosiomandus scrambled to his feet. Leeja hissed. The hair stood up on on Bujilli's nape.

"He didn't want any of my spells. He only wanted copies of all my files, records and notes from my expedition into Ku-Stri-Tal--"

"The Outermost Bastion of the Fifth Dynasty." Leeja whispered hoarsely.

"You've been there?" Gnosiomandus studied Leeja very intently.

"I was born not far from there. The Labyrinth-Warrens beneath the Catacomb-Keep extend downward into Deep Dendo. My great grandmother's people were exiled to that place..."

"Before or after the ghouls?"

"My kin drove out the ghouls."

"...and the Grunters?"

"They...drove us out."

"Ah. I should have realized--"

"No. You shouldn't. Could not." Sprague tried to sit up. Bujilli helped him. "You know why; don't you? Or at least he suspects." Sprague jabbed a bloody finger at Bujilli with a mocking sort of laugh.

Bujilli nodded. "Someone has been meddling with things."

"Meddling? How? What sort of things?" Gnosiomandus sputtered.

"Memories. Impressions. Very subtle things. All very minor, inconsequential things. But they've been slowly adding-up. It's like a fog that has slowly, but surely, seeped in under everyone's defenses. It reminds me of how Mistress Eberhard was subverted by the geist. I felt something similar when I first encountered Gudrun, but I thought that was some sort of influence being exerted by Sprague. But it wasn't Sprague. It wasn't even the Mirrorborn thing impersonating him. It goes deeper than that."

"For what it is worth, I never met you before you tore me loose from those Black Chains..." Sprague sank back onto the pavement. Fever was starting to set in.

"Just how long have you been gone, Sprague?" Leeja demanded.

"I remember looking out at my gardens. She was supposed to meet me..." He trailed off into reverie.

"When? When was this?" Gnosiomandus insisted on knowing.

"The first night of the Spring Revels." Sprague whispered. Barely.

Bujilli looked to Gnosiomandus.

"That was weeks ago. You arrived in my roo--at Wermspittle near the end of the Revels."

"Or it was a year ago. Or more than one year..."

Bujilli looked out across the harbor. The boat was rapidly becoming a speck in the distance. The light in this place tended to be diffuse. Yet he still cast a reluctant shadow that wavered like so much ink spilled into milk.

He closed his eyes. Took control of his breathing. Listened. Relaxed. Let his senses extend outwards like he'd learned as a child.

There.

Pressure. Resistance. Interference.

He recognized the sensation all too damned well.

He cast Thought Wall.

His shadow erupted from the gritty pavement, all talons and teeth, devouring blackness.

Demon.

He wished he still had his tulwar, but he still had Stril's axe.

It hacked a wicked gash through the billowing black demonform.

The thing shrieked. Silently--felt only inside his skull. A vile echoing noise. This thing was prone to tormenting the sleeping, preying upon the vulnerable. He hacked it once more, cast Auric Sheath. Extended the spell as far as he could push it, then reversed it. Brought it down around the demon. Encapsulating the thing. Trapping it.

He nearly lost control of his spells. The mindshriek of the demon was horrible. But he'd heard worse. Far worse. Growing up in a sorcerer's yurt. He held on. Tightened the shell around the demon. He could feel the demon pulling him into a trance-state. Just like he expected. Stupid demon.

Bujilli pressed the Auric Sheath down. Harder. Compressing the wretched shadow-thing into a dense, black smear. On the very edge of collapse the thing whispered urgently into his brain: 'Please.'

"Make your offer." Bujilli knew the rules of this game. His Uncle had taught him well, if harshly and unkindly. Hard won knowledge carried more weight, direct personal experience held more value than simply reading a lot of books. Bujilli had read an awful lot of books as a child. But he'd also been forced into assisting his Uncle in all sorts of workings and experiments. His Uncle had explored a number of different demonologies and summoning schema. He remembered the night they called forth Ahtrishka.

Scars ensure one does not forget. He would never forget. Not ever.

'Release. Promise to release. Give Names.'

"You'll need to do better than that." He forced the Auric Sheath to squeeze tighter.

'Promise. Tell All.'

"No promises. No more games. Offer me power."

'YES! Power!'

"Offer me wealth." He flattened the thing.

'Wealth! Yes! All You Want!'

"Offer me my heart's desire." He rolled-in the sides.

'Anything!'

"Of course. You'll offer anything. But what can you actually deliver?" He shortened the shell.

'Serve! Power!'

"You have nothing I want." Bujilli crushed the Auric Sheath down into a finger-thick rod about the length of an arrow.

'Need! You NEED!'

"Go on. I'm listening."

'No! Too Late! She Knows!'

"Who? Who knows?" Bujilli demanded.

The demon's mental shriek ceased abruptly. As he knew it would. He jerked the Auric Sheath. Hard. Like fishing for cave carp. He twisted it. Jammed it down to the ground. Held it as he cast Protection from Aethyrial Intrusion. One of the spells he'd learned from the Gem of Muktra. So, so long ago.

A spherical shell of greenish non-light reverberated all around him, even as the pale violet Auric Sheath flickered fitfully at his feet. Whomever was behind the demon had retained their link with the demon. Used it to snuff it out before it could reveal anything useful or important. Now Bujilli intended to use that link against them.

Black lesions appeared along one side of the green sphere. They were lashing out. Maybe they suspected something of what he was up to.

Bujilli smiled. Snapped the demon's form down as hard as he could force the spell to go. Crushed it into a dull black rod. Taking care to shape both ends. One a notch, the other a point. An arrow. Black and deadly. To the one who sent the thing after him.

He replaced Stril's axe in his belt. Drew out his bow. Strung it. Picked up the arrow. Drew back to the full extent. Paused. Exhaled. Released the spell surrounding him even as he released the arrow.

Silence.

No more pressure.

No sign of the arrow.

Bujilli looked about him. Sprague was unconscious. Gnosiomandus was staring at him in something bordering upon shock or dismay. Leeja was busily skewering beetles with her crystal stiletto. Her pet slasher followed behind, deftly slicing-off limbs and heads as it went along. The beetles were beginning to pile-up past her ankles.

There was a peculiar piping noise. Some idiot blowing on a cheap flute. The sound made his skin crawl.

He knew what it was. Now all he needed was to find the thing.

He knocked a yellow-metal arrow. One he'd taken from beneath Idvard's Keep.

There. He drew. Aimed. Fired. All in one smooth motion.

The piping stopped.

The beetles dispersed.

"Really? I've been killing scores of these nasty things and you end it all with one arrow?"

"Just need to know where to shoot. that piping noise was coming from a verminotriloquist. At least that was what my Uncle called them. It's someone who manipulates, dominates and controls vermin by use of certain sounds, usually from some sort of musical instrument."

"Lovely." Leeja wiped-off her blade. Re-sheathed it. The little slasher busied itself finishing-off any stragglers it might have missed in the earlier rush. Now it took time to nibble beetles. It seemed to prefer their brains. Such as they were.

"You're lucky it was just beetle..."

"Oh really?"

"Centipedes are much worse." He pulled his shirt back, tugged his armor off to the side to reveal some livid purple marks deeply imprinted into his skin. Not all his scars came from Ahtrishka. He'd had more than his share of encounters with centipedes in the deep dark places his uncle had forced him to explore. Even a basket on the end of a rope couldn't get you out of reach of the worst of those things, not nearly fast enough.

"Maybe I should get a hand-axe like you use..."

"You have to find what works best for you."

"Sound advice." Gnosiomandus coughed. Struggled to his feet. "We need to get back."

"You don't want to follow the boat now?" Bujilli chided his mentor.

"No. Damn fool that I've been, no. It's a distraction. A sort of reflection or echo. Even if we did catch up to it, all we'd find is an oneiric construct. So much dream-junk. and very likely a nasty surprise or two as well."

"So how do we go back?" Leeja went over to Sprague. Checked that he was still unconscious and not just biding his time, listening to their plans.

"We wake up." Gnosiomandus gestured for Bujilli to move closer to Sprague and Leeja. The Slasher skittered back to its mistress and disappeared into her belt pouch.

"Yes." Sprague gasped.

Gnosiomandus set about casting some sort of spell. It involved perambulating about in a series of counter-rotating circles and a lot of concentration.

Bujilli tried to pay attention to the old man's spell-working, but each pass around the circles made it harder and harder to focus.

"Grab Him!" yelled Gnosiomandus.

Bujilli lunged. Tackled Not-Sprague. Dragged them both through the steaming green mud to the doorway.

The green mud surged. Slopped against the door with a hissing wet slap. Again. The door gave-way. They ran into the hallway.

Two Spragues in tow.

They followed Gnosiomandus down the hallway. Down the stairs.

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. A tall, elegant woman wielding an oak staff. Mistress Eberhard. Hedrard. The Headmistress...or her simulacrum...

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

"That's far enough. I will have some answers..."

What should Bujilli, Leeja and Gnosiomandus do now?

1. Run like hell in the other direction? Any particular direction?
2. Present the two Spragues for interrogation?
3. Kill one or both of the Spragues?
4. Attack the Headmistress? Is it her Simulacrum/Impostor?
5. Cast a spell?
6. Ask Hedrard and/or Eberhard for help?
7. Call out to Sharisse and Gudrun?
8. Something else? 

One way or another, a few answers are in order. But is this the right person to be talking to? How do they know whom they can trust? Feel free to make your suggestions or to ask questions in the comments below.

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We could use a few Initiative rolls for (1) Bujilli (2) Leeja, (3) Gnosiomandus, (4) Sprague, (5) Not-Sprague, (6) Hedrard, (7) Mistress Eberhard, (8) The Headmistress, and (9) Someone Else. You can also roll initiative for Sharisse & Gudrun, if you want. Thanks.

Remember:Bujilli receives a +1 bonus to his Initiative, Leeja gets a +2 bonus. Gnosiomandus gets a -1 penalty for being distracted. The girls both receive +1 bonuses due to their DEX. (as per P. 50, Labyrinth Lord.)

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As usual, anything readers don't roll for, I will roll.

• We could use 3-4 D20 rolls!
• We could also use a couple of %D rolls (01-00%)

What happens next is up to you, the readers.


You Decide!

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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