Not getting anywhere with the ratling Ika Norvegova, Hobson and Quazarn vamoose.
Age of Fable
Max
The Remulaki grunts through a morbid psychometric fog, "Where oh where will my little donkey go?" With a shudder he...stands, ready to follow Hobson.
We leave.
I'll change back into police officer clothes, and hold Quazarn's arm in an 'arresting you' style, in case the robot is still out the front.
Max
[The camera-droid, you mean? She's back at the ramp leading into the arena]
Hobson marches Quazarn out of the beer garden. The nattering of the baobabbler fades into the noise of the crowd. The hobling doesn't spot any Brawl uniforms yet, and no sign of Chief Tallbard either.
[Where to? The scene is something like a carnival midway, with concessions and souvenir stands as well as betting and viewing tents. The vendors' tents abut a low, sprawling manse; behind the house rise up the walls of the arena. The front lawn of the manse is an impromptu parking lot.]
Age of Fable
Away! I look for an exit where we can leave without attracting attention.
Max
Pausing at a statue of a Vulkin scholar of old, Hobson hops onto the pedestal and susses his options. There's a fair amount of foot traffic to and from the parking lot. Beyond the beer garden stretches an overgrown hedge marking the boundary of the estate, continuing on beyond the manse and forming a sort of alley with the palisade like wall of the arena. Other than a few stoners swinging a censer amongst themselves there are hardly any people that way.
The guards in the towers on the arena are mostly faced inwards, watching the Brawl.
Age of Fable
Are there any taxis or public transport?
Max
[Nope, but how Green of you to ask ;).
[You were asleep during the trip here, so you're not certain exactly where you are, but if you had to guess you'd say it was the Elvesbeard Heights, a formerly well-heeled neighborhood mostly abandoned and run-down since the galactic nav-beam failed and Vanth got cut off from the spaceways. Northern suburb of God City.]
Age of Fable
"Quazarn, can you cast some kind of don't-look-at-us spell?"
Max
[Since the good Doc has been doing an impressive invisibility act of his own , I'll field this. As a warlock Quaz can make himself invisible using his Invisibility percentile chances. Since he's not currently the center of attention he can do this at no ability cost. He would need to use a spell to make others invisible.
[Hobson can use Invisible to blend in with the crowd and be generally inconspicuous. Sneak might also be useful, depending on what you hope to do.]
Age of Fable
OK - I ask him to render himself invisible.
If it works, I'll just walk out of here, being as inconspicuous as possible.
Max
The warlock disappears! Erm, completely. Not only is he invisible, but completely silent, odorless and possibly incorporeal as well: Hobson touches nothing when he reaches a hand into the space where Quazarn stood an instant ago.
With a shrug, the hobling sets off, trusting the moody warlock to keep up with him.
[I made the Invisibility roll myself rather than make you wait, Fable. You out there Doc?
[Now, where exactly are you headed?]
Age of Fable
I'll have a feel around to see if I can find Quazarn.
To allay suspicion from onlookers, I'll make it look like I'm doing interpretative dance.
Max
You draw a few curious stares. It isn't every day one sees a cop suddenly start dancing. Still no sign of the warlock though.
Age of Fable
I guess I'll just change into civilian clothes (once no one's looking at me), and walk out.
Max
[Out could mean many things from here. The main choices obvious to Hobson are out toward the road, through the hedge to the property next door. You could also try sneaking around back.]
Age of Fable
Out towards the road.
Max
Hobson strolls through the parking lot with hasty nonchalance. He avoids a pack of trelves, nasty customers with lightning rod javelins and silvery dead eyes, astride bat-winged jet-bikes.
The street is a tree-lined boulevard grown unkempt. The statues and fountains in the median are broken, looted or overgrown with vines. There are other mansions along the boulevard, set well back from the street. Their lawns are unmowed, grass shoulder high and gone to seed.
Age of Fable
I'm going to try and find an abandoned mansion where I can hide in the grass until Quazarn finds me, or until the Rumble ends and I can find the others.
Max
Hobson crosses the street and ducks into the dry ditch on the other side. Still no sign of Quazarn -- no crunch on the gravel shoulder of the road, no bent stalks of grass.
Confident he's unseen the hobling does a little recon. The neighborhood was pretty ritzy, not so long ago. The nearest mansion is a rather hideous pile of pseudo-timber and brick-o-foam, sprayed and quick-set to resemble a hybrid of geodesic dome and mushroom village. Its doors and windows are boarded up. Beyond that the street curves, and a driveway leads off the street in the outer bend. The drive disappears over a low hill, but close to the road there's a squat brick carriage house just beyond a rusty gate.
--------------------------------
What happens next to Hobson & Quazarn is so far unrevealed...both reappeared amongst their brawling broethren the next morning, but so far their tales are untold. The sudden forcible return of Quazarn to his home planet makes it unlikely that we'll ever learn how he spent his incorporeal hours.
In the case of Hobson one can speculate: perhaps he whiled away the hours playing whist with a wooky hobo, or avoiding the attentions of a robo-butler gone haywire. Perhaps while scouting the carriage house mentioned above, Hobson was set upon by two killer mockingbirds and an atticus finch, and dove into a yellow patch of flowers to hide. Safe from the birds, the flowers caused an allergic reaction and Hobson began to feel feverish and drowsy. In short, he reacted to the rue badly.
But this only the idle speculation of a pun-addled brain (Don't blame me. Blame the table of Adventure Ideas from Puns to be found here.)
Showing posts with label quazarn. Show all posts
Showing posts with label quazarn. Show all posts
Thursday, November 13, 2008
Friday, November 7, 2008
Hobson & Quazarn in A Clockwork Sombrero
Quazarn & Hobson attempt to rendezvous with a ratling fixer...
[despite adding a link to a groovy Nadsat glossary to my forum signature I now suspect the ratling's Clockwork Orange derived slang got old quick. For convenience I've added mouse-over translations here.]
Max
Age of Fable
Noticing that Quazarn seems to have had another attack, Hobson will try to follow the ratling, observing her while being unobserved if possible.
[rolled a 55]
Dr Rotwang!
Surreptitiously, Quazarn follows the ratling.
The ratling is nowhere to be seen. However, it seems Logical to Hobson that she probably intended to meet them in the beer garden, so the two of you make your way there as inconspicuously as you can.
As you sidle into the deep shade of the baobabbler tree it takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the gloom, and for your ears to tune out the constant chattering of the tree.*
"Hisst," says a low voice, just two tables over. It's the ratling. "You are like sore thumbs, sticking out. Sit!"
[*This, naturally, is a domestic baobabbler, and thus merely annoying. The voice of the wild baobabbler is rumored to cause agonizing headaches, tympanal edema and contagious glossolalia.]
Dr Rotwang!
Quazarn sits.
Max
The ratling regards Quazarn through rosy pink eyes. Her thick Slavic accent tells you her forebears must have migrated to Vanth via a Roosky colony ship.
"That thing you mentioned. Buying or selling?"
Dr Rotwang!
"Buying."
[Max -- you're kind of running two games now and it's all my fault. How do we get the band back together?]
Max
[It's really not a thing, Doc! PbP works very well for divided parties -- I can attend to each group based on the speed of your posts without forcing anyone to sit around. Remember, Fable/Hobson never really wanted to fight in the Brawl anyway, so don't feel bad.
[That said, if either side feels things are sputtering or stalled, let me know. I'm having a blast with this -- and I want all of you to be having a blast (having blasts?) too!]
rondo
(I got no problems with the split game...it's a blast anyway you slice it, thanks to some great players and an visionary JM. I would like us to float back together at some point too, but I'm sure we'll work it out).
Max
Max
"That thing you mentioned. Buying or selling?"
Dr Rotwang!
"Buying."
"I maybe have what you are looking for. Expensive goods, no?"
Glancing at Hobson she chitters impatiently, "Sit down, malenky. Pony?"
Dr Rotwang!
"Well," replies Quazarn flatly, but not impolitely, "I'm simply interested in a regular Ontobian sombreroid -- no fancy haberdashery, merely the traditional transfelt and blam-wicker...show us what you have, for I am in the market." He flashes a big, friendly smile. Everybody likes Quazarn!
Max
[phew, sure am glad to find out what the heck an Ontobian sombreroid is!]
Max
[What's up with Hobson?]
Age of Fable
I'm keeping a regular eye on things, but I have no strong opinions on the sombrero industry.
Max
"Vat can I say, droog? Ever since Ontobian Sanz Chapeau Rebellion prices go up and up. And there is price on your gulliver too. Adds up, da?" Her eyes twinkle with sinister mirth.
Age of Fable
"Oh I get it...this is a shakedown. Well it won't work, see? Because...well, because we don't have any money. But, we do happen to know the location of an enormous pile of cheese."
Max
Twitching her whiskers the ratling smirks. With deliberate movements she reaches into her leather jacket, unsheathes a wicked stiletto, and sets it gently on the table.
"I am vegetarian, malenky."
Age of Fable
"An enormous pile...of soy cheese."
"Also, you probably mean vegan."
Max
"Sha, child! Shut your chumble, em and pee are talking," she says dismissively, turning to Quazarn. Her hand rests lightly now on the handle of the knife. The sharp nails on her fingers are painted the pink to match her eyes.
Some time passes without a post from the Good Dr Rotwang...
Age of Fable
"No you're not, you're just sitting there."
Max
After an awkward pause the rat-girl sighs and rolls her eyes. Leaning across the table she snaps her fingers in front of Quazarn's face. "Bog-damn bezoomy shoot," she mutters to herself.
She pockets her knife and turns to the hobling. "This pointy head eggiweg is terrible warlock? Who would fear this sneetnik, always day dreaming? How can I bargain with a stone?"
Age of Fable
"Don't ask me - last time I tried to talk to you I didn't even get a roll."
Max
"Roll? Now you vant bread. Always you are talking about food, malenky."
[If you want to roll against a skill, go for it -- let me know what you want to do and throw the dice. Can't promise you it'll get you anywhere, but don't let that stop you trying.]
Dr Rotwang!
[Sorry, I got distracted.]
"Ratling friend, do you have the sombreroid to sell? And what price is there upon our heads, pray tell?"
Max
"Ah, horrowshow! Govoreet golly, now ve talk business," smiles the ratling, showing two or three gold teeth and a pierced tongue. Eying Quazarn's silken cravvy and fine clothes, she continues, "Traders and lovers both: I like them rich and desperate....
"So. I can get sombreroid. And price on your head is not yet set -- but for you is cheaper to pay not to see Bigby, I think. Da? You pony?"
Dr Rotwang!
Quazarn grins. He reaches into his bag and extracts this magically-shrunken beast of burden.
"It's a burro, actually," he says. "Hardier than a pony for sure."
Rondo
(The mini-burro kicks ass! pardon the pun)
Max
[Mule have to excuse me for not braying with laughter.]
Her nose twitching, the ratling squeals with unabashed delight. "It's a real live little ossyel!"
Checking her glee she says more sternly, "What else for the hat and your safety?"
After another awkward silence sternness turns to peevish boredom. The rat girl drums her fingers on the table, nails clicking on the wood. Eventually she stands up.
"If you vecks get tired of sodding around ask for Ika Norvegova. Maybe we still do business," she sneers, "Maybe you gloops snuff it first."
Age of Fable
"Maybe we should, as I believe the young people say, split the scene?" I ask Quazarn.
Dr Rotwang!
"Totally."
Max
The Remulaki grunts through a morbid psychometric fog, "Where oh where will my little donkey go?" With a shudder he carefully stows the mini-mule and stands, ready to follow Hobson.
[despite adding a link to a groovy Nadsat glossary to my forum signature I now suspect the ratling's Clockwork Orange derived slang got old quick. For convenience I've added mouse-over translations here.]
Max
Age of Fable
Noticing that Quazarn seems to have had another attack, Hobson will try to follow the ratling, observing her while being unobserved if possible.
[rolled a 55]
Dr Rotwang!
Surreptitiously, Quazarn follows the ratling.
The ratling is nowhere to be seen. However, it seems Logical to Hobson that she probably intended to meet them in the beer garden, so the two of you make your way there as inconspicuously as you can.
As you sidle into the deep shade of the baobabbler tree it takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the gloom, and for your ears to tune out the constant chattering of the tree.*
"Hisst," says a low voice, just two tables over. It's the ratling. "You are like sore thumbs, sticking out. Sit!"
[*This, naturally, is a domestic baobabbler, and thus merely annoying. The voice of the wild baobabbler is rumored to cause agonizing headaches, tympanal edema and contagious glossolalia.]
Dr Rotwang!
Quazarn sits.
Max
The ratling regards Quazarn through rosy pink eyes. Her thick Slavic accent tells you her forebears must have migrated to Vanth via a Roosky colony ship.
"That thing you mentioned. Buying or selling?"
Dr Rotwang!
"Buying."
[Max -- you're kind of running two games now and it's all my fault. How do we get the band back together?]
Max
[It's really not a thing, Doc! PbP works very well for divided parties -- I can attend to each group based on the speed of your posts without forcing anyone to sit around. Remember, Fable/Hobson never really wanted to fight in the Brawl anyway, so don't feel bad.
[That said, if either side feels things are sputtering or stalled, let me know. I'm having a blast with this -- and I want all of you to be having a blast (having blasts?) too!]
rondo
(I got no problems with the split game...it's a blast anyway you slice it, thanks to some great players and an visionary JM. I would like us to float back together at some point too, but I'm sure we'll work it out).
Max
Max
"That thing you mentioned. Buying or selling?"
Dr Rotwang!
"Buying."
"I maybe have what you are looking for. Expensive goods, no?"
Glancing at Hobson she chitters impatiently, "Sit down, malenky. Pony?"
Dr Rotwang!
"Well," replies Quazarn flatly, but not impolitely, "I'm simply interested in a regular Ontobian sombreroid -- no fancy haberdashery, merely the traditional transfelt and blam-wicker...show us what you have, for I am in the market." He flashes a big, friendly smile. Everybody likes Quazarn!
Max
[phew, sure am glad to find out what the heck an Ontobian sombreroid is!]
Max
[What's up with Hobson?]
Age of Fable
I'm keeping a regular eye on things, but I have no strong opinions on the sombrero industry.
Max
"Vat can I say, droog? Ever since Ontobian Sanz Chapeau Rebellion prices go up and up. And there is price on your gulliver too. Adds up, da?" Her eyes twinkle with sinister mirth.
Age of Fable
"Oh I get it...this is a shakedown. Well it won't work, see? Because...well, because we don't have any money. But, we do happen to know the location of an enormous pile of cheese."
Max
Twitching her whiskers the ratling smirks. With deliberate movements she reaches into her leather jacket, unsheathes a wicked stiletto, and sets it gently on the table.
"I am vegetarian, malenky."
Age of Fable
"An enormous pile...of soy cheese."
"Also, you probably mean vegan."
Max
"Sha, child! Shut your chumble, em and pee are talking," she says dismissively, turning to Quazarn. Her hand rests lightly now on the handle of the knife. The sharp nails on her fingers are painted the pink to match her eyes.
Some time passes without a post from the Good Dr Rotwang...
Age of Fable
"No you're not, you're just sitting there."
Max
After an awkward pause the rat-girl sighs and rolls her eyes. Leaning across the table she snaps her fingers in front of Quazarn's face. "Bog-damn bezoomy shoot," she mutters to herself.
She pockets her knife and turns to the hobling. "This pointy head eggiweg is terrible warlock? Who would fear this sneetnik, always day dreaming? How can I bargain with a stone?"
Age of Fable
"Don't ask me - last time I tried to talk to you I didn't even get a roll."
Max
"Roll? Now you vant bread. Always you are talking about food, malenky."
[If you want to roll against a skill, go for it -- let me know what you want to do and throw the dice. Can't promise you it'll get you anywhere, but don't let that stop you trying.]
Dr Rotwang!
[Sorry, I got distracted.]
"Ratling friend, do you have the sombreroid to sell? And what price is there upon our heads, pray tell?"
Max
"Ah, horrowshow! Govoreet golly, now ve talk business," smiles the ratling, showing two or three gold teeth and a pierced tongue. Eying Quazarn's silken cravvy and fine clothes, she continues, "Traders and lovers both: I like them rich and desperate....
"So. I can get sombreroid. And price on your head is not yet set -- but for you is cheaper to pay not to see Bigby, I think. Da? You pony?"
Dr Rotwang!
Quazarn grins. He reaches into his bag and extracts this magically-shrunken beast of burden.
"It's a burro, actually," he says. "Hardier than a pony for sure."
Rondo
(The mini-burro kicks ass! pardon the pun)
Max
[Mule have to excuse me for not braying with laughter.]
Her nose twitching, the ratling squeals with unabashed delight. "It's a real live little ossyel!"
Checking her glee she says more sternly, "What else for the hat and your safety?"
After another awkward silence sternness turns to peevish boredom. The rat girl drums her fingers on the table, nails clicking on the wood. Eventually she stands up.
"If you vecks get tired of sodding around ask for Ika Norvegova. Maybe we still do business," she sneers, "Maybe you gloops snuff it first."
Age of Fable
"Maybe we should, as I believe the young people say, split the scene?" I ask Quazarn.
Dr Rotwang!
"Totally."
Max
The Remulaki grunts through a morbid psychometric fog, "Where oh where will my little donkey go?" With a shudder he carefully stows the mini-mule and stands, ready to follow Hobson.
Monday, October 27, 2008
Hobson & Quazarn: Exit, Pursued by a Bard
Max
[Which way now? To your right are the turnstiles and the tunnel leading to the front, to your left is the gate and ramp to the arena, with lounges branching off to either side before the ramp]
Having hobbled Chief Tallbard, Quazarn and Hobson are ready to get...
Dr Rotwang!
[OUT. Right. Tunnel. Out. Away. Gone. Tunnel. OUT.]
Age of Fable
Me too.
Max
[JM cues Benny Hill theme, plans for chase scene involving bikini-clad doxies and orcs in bobbies' helmets...]
Age of Fable
"Gosh", thinks Hobson,"As per the movement rules on p22, no one can catch me."
Max
Like a bowling ball chasing a runaway pin hobling scampers after conehead down the tunnel. The Chief calls after for a moment then retreats into the locker room.
At the end of the tunnel you find yourselves back on the front lawn. Food and drink stalls and gambling counters crowd right up against the walls of the Vulkin manse, and tents crowded with spectators overrun the front gardens. Beyond the tents the lawn is a parking lot.
Pausing near the tunnel you both feel a bit conspicuous -- you are, after all, a crossbow-wielding hobling in a police uniform and The Warlock Who Almost Tore Bigby's Playhouse Down.
Age of Fable
"Gosh", thinks Hobson, "As per the movement rules on p22, no one can catch me."
Even as he smiles at this thought Hobson hears a voice in his head reply, "Ah, but life is not merely something you read in a book, little hobling. The stronger a fellow is the longer he can run...and on a scale of one to twenty you rate only about a six."
Age of Fable
"And yet, fie on this pessimism" I think.
"With a nature as robotic as mine (and corresponding ability to give myself unpleasant orders) surely I can keep going through the pain like it ain't no thang."
Max
"Hrmmph," grumbles the voice in Hobson's head, "I suppose there's no arguing with that, if you want to run yourself to exhaustion."
[That's good thinking, Fable! If it's necessary to figure out a house rule for forced marches/extended running I'll definitely work that in!]
Age of Fable
[Thanks...I'd treat Robot Nature as including willpower/self-discipline.]
Max
As you linger near the tunnel there's no doubt you're beginning to draw a few stares from the crowd. No sign of any Brawl security. At the moment, anyway.
Age of Fable
Who's lingering? I'm heading away from all this, and encouraging Quazarn to do likewise.
Max
Just a pause to await your choices.
So, away away? As in hoofing it through the parking lot and trucking on down the road?
Dr Rotwang!
Max
[Y]ou are, after all, a crossbow-wielding hobling in a police uniform and The Warlock Who Almost Tore Bigby's Playhouse Down.
[Dude, we're gettin' a rep!]
"Well, my hobling cohort," says Quazarn to Hobson, "we'd best make ourselves hard-to-find -- say, get lost among the crowd? And what of the others? How will we find them?" He twists his lips in searing, incandescent thought. "Splitting up," he reflects, "may well have been a bad idea." Then, "To the stalls! Let us lose ourselves among the throng, visually if not in terms of merit."
Age of Fable
I change my clothes to something which will fit in with the crowd.
"An excellent plan. And yet, it's possible that they may search the crowd - believing as they do that you're a major criminal, and responsible for the head of security (and former senior police officer) getting a crossbow bolt in the leg."
"Also, you have a great big pointy head, presenting some difficulties vis a vis passing unnoticed."
Max
Quazarn is momentarily confused when he notices the hobling in a Hawaiian shirt and deck shoes talking to him, but his keen intellect swiftly pierces Hobson's disguise. The pair do their best to disappear into the crowd.
The food stalls are the usual mix of fast cheap and out of control: rat-on-a-stick, roof lizard eggs fried in savory dough, burgers and brats, toasted chickenoid blood (a favorite despite the raging ontological debate over the question of the chickenoids' sentience). There are also souvenir vendors, betting counters, and tents set up for spectators to watch the fight via holoscreen, scrying pool and quadrophenic sens-surround. Touts race back and forth between the viewing parlors and a beer garden in the shade of a huge baobabbler tree.
Hobson seems to pass unnoticed as long as he keeps out from underfoot, but Quazarn's still drawing a few sidelong looks.
Rondo
(major points for the JG "Rat-On-A-Stick" reference!)
Dr Rotwang!
Quazarn looks around the stalls. "Surely," he mutters, "a crowd such as this is a good market for Ontobian sombreroids. Surely..."
Max
A sharp-eared ratling twitches her head in your direction. She is clean for her species, though her pelt is shaved in strange teknomagical patterns. She points a clawed finger at the beer garden and ducks out of view.
Age of Fable
"Well, she was clean for her species. That...that wasn't true of my last girlfriend."
Age of Fable
Noticing that Quazarn seems to have had another attack of Psychometric Morbidity, Hobson will try to follow the ratling, observing her while being unobserved if possible.
[rolled a 55]
Dr Rotwang!
Surreptitiously, Quazarn follows the ratling.
[Which way now? To your right are the turnstiles and the tunnel leading to the front, to your left is the gate and ramp to the arena, with lounges branching off to either side before the ramp]
Having hobbled Chief Tallbard, Quazarn and Hobson are ready to get...
Dr Rotwang!
[OUT. Right. Tunnel. Out. Away. Gone. Tunnel. OUT.]
Age of Fable
Me too.
Max
[JM cues Benny Hill theme, plans for chase scene involving bikini-clad doxies and orcs in bobbies' helmets...]
Age of Fable
"Gosh", thinks Hobson,"As per the movement rules on p22, no one can catch me."
Max
Like a bowling ball chasing a runaway pin hobling scampers after conehead down the tunnel. The Chief calls after for a moment then retreats into the locker room.
At the end of the tunnel you find yourselves back on the front lawn. Food and drink stalls and gambling counters crowd right up against the walls of the Vulkin manse, and tents crowded with spectators overrun the front gardens. Beyond the tents the lawn is a parking lot.
Pausing near the tunnel you both feel a bit conspicuous -- you are, after all, a crossbow-wielding hobling in a police uniform and The Warlock Who Almost Tore Bigby's Playhouse Down.
Age of Fable
"Gosh", thinks Hobson, "As per the movement rules on p22, no one can catch me."
Even as he smiles at this thought Hobson hears a voice in his head reply, "Ah, but life is not merely something you read in a book, little hobling. The stronger a fellow is the longer he can run...and on a scale of one to twenty you rate only about a six."
Age of Fable
"And yet, fie on this pessimism" I think.
"With a nature as robotic as mine (and corresponding ability to give myself unpleasant orders) surely I can keep going through the pain like it ain't no thang."
Max
"Hrmmph," grumbles the voice in Hobson's head, "I suppose there's no arguing with that, if you want to run yourself to exhaustion."
[That's good thinking, Fable! If it's necessary to figure out a house rule for forced marches/extended running I'll definitely work that in!]
Age of Fable
[Thanks...I'd treat Robot Nature as including willpower/self-discipline.]
Max
As you linger near the tunnel there's no doubt you're beginning to draw a few stares from the crowd. No sign of any Brawl security. At the moment, anyway.
Age of Fable
Who's lingering? I'm heading away from all this, and encouraging Quazarn to do likewise.
Max
Just a pause to await your choices.
So, away away? As in hoofing it through the parking lot and trucking on down the road?
Dr Rotwang!
Max
[Y]ou are, after all, a crossbow-wielding hobling in a police uniform and The Warlock Who Almost Tore Bigby's Playhouse Down.
[Dude, we're gettin' a rep!]
"Well, my hobling cohort," says Quazarn to Hobson, "we'd best make ourselves hard-to-find -- say, get lost among the crowd? And what of the others? How will we find them?" He twists his lips in searing, incandescent thought. "Splitting up," he reflects, "may well have been a bad idea." Then, "To the stalls! Let us lose ourselves among the throng, visually if not in terms of merit."
Age of Fable
I change my clothes to something which will fit in with the crowd.
"An excellent plan. And yet, it's possible that they may search the crowd - believing as they do that you're a major criminal, and responsible for the head of security (and former senior police officer) getting a crossbow bolt in the leg."
"Also, you have a great big pointy head, presenting some difficulties vis a vis passing unnoticed."
Max
Quazarn is momentarily confused when he notices the hobling in a Hawaiian shirt and deck shoes talking to him, but his keen intellect swiftly pierces Hobson's disguise. The pair do their best to disappear into the crowd.
The food stalls are the usual mix of fast cheap and out of control: rat-on-a-stick, roof lizard eggs fried in savory dough, burgers and brats, toasted chickenoid blood (a favorite despite the raging ontological debate over the question of the chickenoids' sentience). There are also souvenir vendors, betting counters, and tents set up for spectators to watch the fight via holoscreen, scrying pool and quadrophenic sens-surround. Touts race back and forth between the viewing parlors and a beer garden in the shade of a huge baobabbler tree.
Hobson seems to pass unnoticed as long as he keeps out from underfoot, but Quazarn's still drawing a few sidelong looks.
Rondo
(major points for the JG "Rat-On-A-Stick" reference!)
Dr Rotwang!
Quazarn looks around the stalls. "Surely," he mutters, "a crowd such as this is a good market for Ontobian sombreroids. Surely..."
Max
A sharp-eared ratling twitches her head in your direction. She is clean for her species, though her pelt is shaved in strange teknomagical patterns. She points a clawed finger at the beer garden and ducks out of view.
Age of Fable
"Well, she was clean for her species. That...that wasn't true of my last girlfriend."
Age of Fable
Noticing that Quazarn seems to have had another attack of Psychometric Morbidity, Hobson will try to follow the ratling, observing her while being unobserved if possible.
[rolled a 55]
Dr Rotwang!
Surreptitiously, Quazarn follows the ratling.
Sunday, October 19, 2008
Hobson & Quazarn: I Shot the Sheriff
There's a time for talk, and a time for assaulting a former police officer...
Dr Rotwang!
Quazarn, The Warlock Who Sucked At being A Warlock, grits his teeth and kicks Tallbard in the groin.
Age of Fable
"Oh no! He has magically escaped his bonds, which I definitely had him in!"
Max
Chief Tallbard is surprised by the conehead's sudden attack, but evades the kick with a the hip swivel of a champion hula-hooper. He raises his hands, palms out.
"Easy tiger. No need to make things any harder for yourself, son. Just take a deep breath and relax. We just need to ask you a few questions."
Age of Fable
"Oh no! He's taken control of my arms!" I say, and shoot the Chief in the leg.
To Hit: 11!
Max
[That's probably going to hurt. Roll your damage.]
Age of Fable
7
"Damn you, Bazorm the Enchanter!" I cry.
"I shall remember your name! Which is Bazorm the Enchanter!"
Max
"Get a hold of yourself, officer. Fight it!" cries out the Chief as Hobson raises his weapon. His golden voice would rally a company of fleeing soldiers. Unfortunately for the Chief, Hobson's fighting for the other side, and his aim is good. The crossbow bolt thunks into the meat of Tallbard's thigh.
"Sluts of the Netherworld!" gasps the Chief, backing toward the door. "Radio for help, Chester! Chester?" But the orcish orderly is splitsville. Tallbard begins fumbling with his own radio, still backing away.
[Reloading a crossbow takes a round.]
Dr Rotwang!
[Is Quazarn jacked up for reals? And is it mere coincidence that you noticed my Psi Resist wasn't correctly totalled up?]
Max
[Quazarn is free to act; Hobson's attack interrupted the Chief. One man's coincidence is another man's foreshadowing. 'Stance Happens, dude.]
Dr Rotwang!
Max
Tallbard begins fumbling with his own radio, still backing away.
Women want him! Men want to be him! Wookies shave and wear hats to honor him! He is QUAZARN!
He nails his penetrating gaze to Tallbard's and builds around him a scaffolding of fear! "Oh, cool," he says icily, "a radio." The Remulaki snatches the device away from Tallbard, and puts it to his ear. He pretends to listen, and then throws it over his shoulder. "I hate that station.
"Let's talk a little about your future, Chief..."
Max
[Ahem.]
Building his confidence with an incredibly convincing visualization exercise Quazarn prepares to grab the radio.
[Hey, I'm a rootin'-for-the-PCs kinda JM, but c'mon man. Give me an initiative roll on d10-1 (missile damage determines bonus/penalty to initiative), and a Lesser Feat]
Dr Rotwang!
[Heh! I was just bein' pro-active. My rolls: INIT = 4, LESSER FEAT = 43]
Max
[Hey, Fable, we're into a new round. What's up with Hobson? Reloading his crossbow? Can I get an initiative roll, and other attack or ability based roll you want to take?]
[I'll need an extra percentile roll for Hobson and Quaz both. Just tell me the number.]
Age of Fable
Initiative 7
Percentage 12 here.
Hobson will replace his crossbow, draw his cutlass and, if he has time this round, try and shoulder-barge his way out of the door, shouting "damn you, sorcerer!"
Max
Brandishing his cutlass Hobson boldly charges from the locker room! Hurling his small body into the door with a yell, he nearly falls prone when he meets no resistance whatsoever. The freshly oiled and completely unblocked swinging door bangs against the tunnel wall and flaps noisily shut behind him.
The Chief is distracted by the fleeing hobling, and Quazarn seizes the the day, the moment, the hour and the radio. "Oh, cool," he says icily as he puts it to his ear. He pretends to listen, and then throws it over his shoulder. "I hate that station."
"Let's talk a little about your future, Chief..."
Tallbard's face is pale, but his voice is firm and steady, the rough edge of command polished smooth like a rock in a stream. "Talk? That'd be great, son. Why don't we have a seat and talk things out, chew the fat, settle the hash. Man to man."
His words are forceful, yet calm, and once again Quazarn can't help but to relax. The Chief ain't such a bad guy, is he?
[Need a percentile roll from you, Doc...]
Age of Fable
Hobson notices that Quazarn isn't running behind him.
"Damn you sorcerer!"
Dr Rotwang!
Quazarn isn't interested in having a beer with him. Quazarn wants to be left the hell alone by him.
Max
[Need a percentile roll from you, Doc...]
[51. Bad?]
Max
Quazarn feels all his anger toward the Chief ebb away. He's just a guy just trying to do his job after all. A beer might be a little too friendly, but maybe it would be good to talk things out.
[You are Stunned -- you are still in control of your own actions, but can't act to harm the Chief.
[We're moving into a new round, keeping the same initiative sequence. Hobson & Quazarn have a chance to act before the Chief.]
Age of Fable
I try and sneak back so that I can see what's happening, without myself being seen.
If I need a roll for that: 30
Dr Rotwang!
"Your future, Chief," Quazarn declares, "involves you leaving me the hell alone. If that bulldozer's such a big deal, wait another hour, you'll have it back. I'm stepping away now; I suggest you do same." Quazarn backs away from the chief, at a comfortable clip.
Time to get the hell outta here.
Max
Just as Hobson approaches the door to peer through it bangs open, once again crashing into the tunnel wall. Hobson jumps back out of the way, and Quazarn backs through the door into the hall.
Before the door swings shut Hobson sees the Chief limping toward the door. "C'mon now buddy, don't go off in a rush, it's better for everyone if we just talk this out..."
[You two stooges want a ladder for a prop :D ? I was pretty tempted to make Hobson save vs getting smacked by the door.
[Which way now? To your right are the turnstiles and the tunnel leading to the front, to your left is the gate and ramp to the arena, with lounges branching off to either side before the ramp.]
Dr Rotwang!
Quazarn, The Warlock Who Sucked At being A Warlock, grits his teeth and kicks Tallbard in the groin.
Age of Fable
"Oh no! He has magically escaped his bonds, which I definitely had him in!"
Max
Chief Tallbard is surprised by the conehead's sudden attack, but evades the kick with a the hip swivel of a champion hula-hooper. He raises his hands, palms out.
"Easy tiger. No need to make things any harder for yourself, son. Just take a deep breath and relax. We just need to ask you a few questions."
Age of Fable
"Oh no! He's taken control of my arms!" I say, and shoot the Chief in the leg.
To Hit: 11!
Max
[That's probably going to hurt. Roll your damage.]
Age of Fable
7
"Damn you, Bazorm the Enchanter!" I cry.
"I shall remember your name! Which is Bazorm the Enchanter!"
Max
"Get a hold of yourself, officer. Fight it!" cries out the Chief as Hobson raises his weapon. His golden voice would rally a company of fleeing soldiers. Unfortunately for the Chief, Hobson's fighting for the other side, and his aim is good. The crossbow bolt thunks into the meat of Tallbard's thigh.
"Sluts of the Netherworld!" gasps the Chief, backing toward the door. "Radio for help, Chester! Chester?" But the orcish orderly is splitsville. Tallbard begins fumbling with his own radio, still backing away.
[Reloading a crossbow takes a round.]
Dr Rotwang!
[Is Quazarn jacked up for reals? And is it mere coincidence that you noticed my Psi Resist wasn't correctly totalled up?]
Max
[Quazarn is free to act; Hobson's attack interrupted the Chief. One man's coincidence is another man's foreshadowing. 'Stance Happens, dude.]
Dr Rotwang!
Max
Tallbard begins fumbling with his own radio, still backing away.
Women want him! Men want to be him! Wookies shave and wear hats to honor him! He is QUAZARN!
He nails his penetrating gaze to Tallbard's and builds around him a scaffolding of fear! "Oh, cool," he says icily, "a radio." The Remulaki snatches the device away from Tallbard, and puts it to his ear. He pretends to listen, and then throws it over his shoulder. "I hate that station.
"Let's talk a little about your future, Chief..."
Max
[Ahem.]
Building his confidence with an incredibly convincing visualization exercise Quazarn prepares to grab the radio.
[Hey, I'm a rootin'-for-the-PCs kinda JM, but c'mon man. Give me an initiative roll on d10-1 (missile damage determines bonus/penalty to initiative), and a Lesser Feat]
Dr Rotwang!
[Heh! I was just bein' pro-active. My rolls: INIT = 4, LESSER FEAT = 43]
Max
[Hey, Fable, we're into a new round. What's up with Hobson? Reloading his crossbow? Can I get an initiative roll, and other attack or ability based roll you want to take?]
[I'll need an extra percentile roll for Hobson and Quaz both. Just tell me the number.]
Age of Fable
Initiative 7
Percentage 12 here.
Hobson will replace his crossbow, draw his cutlass and, if he has time this round, try and shoulder-barge his way out of the door, shouting "damn you, sorcerer!"
Max
Brandishing his cutlass Hobson boldly charges from the locker room! Hurling his small body into the door with a yell, he nearly falls prone when he meets no resistance whatsoever. The freshly oiled and completely unblocked swinging door bangs against the tunnel wall and flaps noisily shut behind him.
The Chief is distracted by the fleeing hobling, and Quazarn seizes the the day, the moment, the hour and the radio. "Oh, cool," he says icily as he puts it to his ear. He pretends to listen, and then throws it over his shoulder. "I hate that station."
"Let's talk a little about your future, Chief..."
Tallbard's face is pale, but his voice is firm and steady, the rough edge of command polished smooth like a rock in a stream. "Talk? That'd be great, son. Why don't we have a seat and talk things out, chew the fat, settle the hash. Man to man."
His words are forceful, yet calm, and once again Quazarn can't help but to relax. The Chief ain't such a bad guy, is he?
[Need a percentile roll from you, Doc...]
Age of Fable
Hobson notices that Quazarn isn't running behind him.
"Damn you sorcerer!"
Dr Rotwang!
Quazarn isn't interested in having a beer with him. Quazarn wants to be left the hell alone by him.
Max
[Need a percentile roll from you, Doc...]
[51. Bad?]
Max
Quazarn feels all his anger toward the Chief ebb away. He's just a guy just trying to do his job after all. A beer might be a little too friendly, but maybe it would be good to talk things out.
[You are Stunned -- you are still in control of your own actions, but can't act to harm the Chief.
[We're moving into a new round, keeping the same initiative sequence. Hobson & Quazarn have a chance to act before the Chief.]
Age of Fable
I try and sneak back so that I can see what's happening, without myself being seen.
If I need a roll for that: 30
Dr Rotwang!
"Your future, Chief," Quazarn declares, "involves you leaving me the hell alone. If that bulldozer's such a big deal, wait another hour, you'll have it back. I'm stepping away now; I suggest you do same." Quazarn backs away from the chief, at a comfortable clip.
Time to get the hell outta here.
Max
Just as Hobson approaches the door to peer through it bangs open, once again crashing into the tunnel wall. Hobson jumps back out of the way, and Quazarn backs through the door into the hall.
Before the door swings shut Hobson sees the Chief limping toward the door. "C'mon now buddy, don't go off in a rush, it's better for everyone if we just talk this out..."
[You two stooges want a ladder for a prop :D ? I was pretty tempted to make Hobson save vs getting smacked by the door.
[Which way now? To your right are the turnstiles and the tunnel leading to the front, to your left is the gate and ramp to the arena, with lounges branching off to either side before the ramp.]
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Hobson & Quazarn & Tallbard & Chester
Hobson's locker-room larceny is interrupted by the return of Chief Tallbard...
Max
There's a sound of singing from the corridor. "Forsooth," sighs a world-weary Quazarn. "Chief Tallbard!"
Age of Fable
I answer the door, taking the symbiote repellent if that's what he's come for.
Max
"Here now, let's take care of that symbiote problem. We'll have it licked in no time!" chimes the Chief, brandishing what looks like a caulking gun.
He looks askance at Quazarn, sulking near the door. "Haven't you got manacles for the prisoner? Pin his arms, man, before his unleashes his hoodoo!"
Age of Fable
"Oh, he won't be any trouble. He knows I'm the fastest crossbow in Hoblingdom."
Max
"Hrmm. It's a little out of tune," mulls the Chief, "Not the way I'd handle him. But he doesn't look very dangerous." Tallbard waves a hand in front of Quazarn's glazed over eyes, and snaps his fingers near the warlock's ear. "He's gone flat as a bent sackbutt. You won't fool us, cheater! Now, officer...what was your name again? Let's get to it, see what he knows."
The Chief undoes the top two buttons of his uniform and begins rolling up his sleeves.
Age of Fable
[wait - I thought this guy was an EX policeman?]
Max
[That's right. And?
[You're on his turf. And he's Chief pain in the neck around here.]
Age of Fable
"Uh...no can do Chief. He got off on a technicality last time, can't let that happen again."
Max
"Well, fol-dee-rol, officer," hums Tallbard innocently. "I'll just stay on as an observer then. Representing Mr. Smalls' interests. This spell-flinger here caused a whole heap of damage to Mr. Smalls' property today. And Mr. Smalls is a Big Man in God City. Primo Uomo, understand?"
Age of Fable
"You of all people should know that you can't be an observer."
Max
"You're not from around here, are you, Officer?" smiles Tallbard, an edge creeping into his voice, "So let me rehearse this for you. If you want to keep right in this town, you gotta keep right with Mr. Smalls. Is that catchy enough for you? Can you follow the tune? 'Cause I'd sure like to interrogate this freak here and get on with my business."
Dr Rotwang!
[OOC: Vacation's over. Back to my normal schedule!]
Regaining his wits from the haze of psychometric morbidity, Quazarn turns his mighty brain to the present! He shakes his head gently, touching his temples and blinking.
"Officer!" he remarks to Tallbard. "You're repellent." He tries to make it sound like 'Your repellent?' but he doesn't try very hard. "You're here, still, without it?"
As he does this, he sizes up the Chief, his distance from arm's length -- and his fighting ability. Though he often ignores it, Quazarn is stronger in his physique than he is thaumaturgically; he can probably take this guy and get himself and the Hobling out of here...
Max
"Found your voice again, son?" he grins, with suave menace. "I've got the repellent right here, now that you mention it. Stand right there and open your mouth. Officer, you'd better grab his arms and hold him steady."
Chief Tallbard hefts the applicator, waiting for Hobson to move in. He's just over 6' tall, about the same build as Quazarn, intimidatingly handsome. His voice is soft and deep, smooth as blended whiskey, and his eyes have the crinkle and gleam of a matinee idol's.
[Welcome back, Doc. Hope you had a fun time off!
[Say, just noticed something on your character sheet: looks like you've forgotten to tally your Psi-Resist. I believe it should be 44%.]
Age of Fable
[I can't think of any way out of this short of attacking the Chief, so unless Quazarn can do something I'm going to have to let him join in the 'interrogation']
Max
[Here's a data point I forgot to mention. I know it looks like a JM orc ex machina but this was a straight up dice roll, word to ya mothers.]
Just as Tallbard takes a cautious step toward Quazarn, the door to the locker room lurches open. The orcish attendant Chet cranes in his head and scans the locker room, his bloodshot eyes widening when he spots the Chief.
Age of Fable
I move behind Quazarn to 'pin his arms' as requested.
"Now then son, let's not have any trouble."
If it's safe to do so, I'll try to whisper to Quazarn - "I have no idea what to do at this point."
Dr Rotwang!
Quazarn watches Tallbard approach --
The Orc bursts in through the door --
The Chief hoists up his repellent --
"Too late, ossifer," Quazarn offers casually, and jerks his head toward the orc. "Symbiote's that way."
Max
Keeping the repellent gun trained on Quazarn, Tallbard stands sideways, trying to keep both the door and the warlock in view. He takes a quick glance and spies the attendant.
"Chester? What's going on here?" demands the Chief distractedly, then turns quickly back to Hobson. "Officer, secure the warlock!"
Dr Rotwang!
[Well, so much for my well-thought-out plan to nut the cop and run.]
Max
"How should I know, Chief Balltard?" mumbles Chester sourly. "I been on my break"
Tallbard's mustache bristles, and he turns for an instant to glare at the orc. "What did you just call me, boy?"
[The 'officer' in question is just Hobson, and Chester is just the orc locker room attendant and general dogsbody. That's clear, right?]
Dr Rotwang!
[Not really. I was calling Ballt- uh, Tallbard 'ossifer', and I have no idea who this Chet guy is. Is it safe to cock-knock the Cheef?]
Max
[Is it safe? You'll have to decide that for yourself.
[But Chet doesn't seem likely to run to his defense. If you had to guess he's been sparking magic incense on his break, and he's not exactly gazing upon the Chief with a look of reverent affection.]
Dr Rotwang!
Quazarn sighs. "Chief Balltard," he says, "The truth must out. There is no symbiote. But!", he declares with a flourish, "There is another thing you must know!"
And Quazarn, The Warlock Who Sucked At being A Warlock, grits his teeth and kicks Tallbard in the groin.
[ATTACK ROLL: 25!]
wulfgar
You made my morning Doc.
Age of Fable
"Oh no! He has magically escaped his bonds, which I definitely had him in!"
Max
[You can go ahead and roll for damage when you attack, along with a Saving Throw for defense. But in this case Chief T's Save was so good you needn't bother with the damage...]
Chief Tallbard is surprised by the conehead's sudden attack, but evades the kick with a the hip swivel of a champion hula-hooper. He raises his hands, palms out.
"Easy tiger. No need to make things any harder for yourself, son. Just take a deep breath and relax. We just need to ask you a few questions." The Chief's voice is deep and calm, laid back like a late night DJ spinning lazy soul records. Chill.
Quazarn feels all the tension in his body ebb away, and begins to wonder what there was to get worked up about.
Max
There's a sound of singing from the corridor. "Forsooth," sighs a world-weary Quazarn. "Chief Tallbard!"
Age of Fable
I answer the door, taking the symbiote repellent if that's what he's come for.
Max
"Here now, let's take care of that symbiote problem. We'll have it licked in no time!" chimes the Chief, brandishing what looks like a caulking gun.
He looks askance at Quazarn, sulking near the door. "Haven't you got manacles for the prisoner? Pin his arms, man, before his unleashes his hoodoo!"
Age of Fable
"Oh, he won't be any trouble. He knows I'm the fastest crossbow in Hoblingdom."
Max
"Hrmm. It's a little out of tune," mulls the Chief, "Not the way I'd handle him. But he doesn't look very dangerous." Tallbard waves a hand in front of Quazarn's glazed over eyes, and snaps his fingers near the warlock's ear. "He's gone flat as a bent sackbutt. You won't fool us, cheater! Now, officer...what was your name again? Let's get to it, see what he knows."
The Chief undoes the top two buttons of his uniform and begins rolling up his sleeves.
Age of Fable
[wait - I thought this guy was an EX policeman?]
Max
[That's right. And?
[You're on his turf. And he's Chief pain in the neck around here.]
Age of Fable
"Uh...no can do Chief. He got off on a technicality last time, can't let that happen again."
Max
"Well, fol-dee-rol, officer," hums Tallbard innocently. "I'll just stay on as an observer then. Representing Mr. Smalls' interests. This spell-flinger here caused a whole heap of damage to Mr. Smalls' property today. And Mr. Smalls is a Big Man in God City. Primo Uomo, understand?"
Age of Fable
"You of all people should know that you can't be an observer."
Max
"You're not from around here, are you, Officer?" smiles Tallbard, an edge creeping into his voice, "So let me rehearse this for you. If you want to keep right in this town, you gotta keep right with Mr. Smalls. Is that catchy enough for you? Can you follow the tune? 'Cause I'd sure like to interrogate this freak here and get on with my business."
Dr Rotwang!
[OOC: Vacation's over. Back to my normal schedule!]
Regaining his wits from the haze of psychometric morbidity, Quazarn turns his mighty brain to the present! He shakes his head gently, touching his temples and blinking.
"Officer!" he remarks to Tallbard. "You're repellent." He tries to make it sound like 'Your repellent?' but he doesn't try very hard. "You're here, still, without it?"
As he does this, he sizes up the Chief, his distance from arm's length -- and his fighting ability. Though he often ignores it, Quazarn is stronger in his physique than he is thaumaturgically; he can probably take this guy and get himself and the Hobling out of here...
Max
"Found your voice again, son?" he grins, with suave menace. "I've got the repellent right here, now that you mention it. Stand right there and open your mouth. Officer, you'd better grab his arms and hold him steady."
Chief Tallbard hefts the applicator, waiting for Hobson to move in. He's just over 6' tall, about the same build as Quazarn, intimidatingly handsome. His voice is soft and deep, smooth as blended whiskey, and his eyes have the crinkle and gleam of a matinee idol's.
[Welcome back, Doc. Hope you had a fun time off!
[Say, just noticed something on your character sheet: looks like you've forgotten to tally your Psi-Resist. I believe it should be 44%.]
Age of Fable
[I can't think of any way out of this short of attacking the Chief, so unless Quazarn can do something I'm going to have to let him join in the 'interrogation']
Max
[Here's a data point I forgot to mention. I know it looks like a JM orc ex machina but this was a straight up dice roll, word to ya mothers.]
Just as Tallbard takes a cautious step toward Quazarn, the door to the locker room lurches open. The orcish attendant Chet cranes in his head and scans the locker room, his bloodshot eyes widening when he spots the Chief.
Age of Fable
I move behind Quazarn to 'pin his arms' as requested.
"Now then son, let's not have any trouble."
If it's safe to do so, I'll try to whisper to Quazarn - "I have no idea what to do at this point."
Dr Rotwang!
Quazarn watches Tallbard approach --
The Orc bursts in through the door --
The Chief hoists up his repellent --
"Too late, ossifer," Quazarn offers casually, and jerks his head toward the orc. "Symbiote's that way."
Max
Keeping the repellent gun trained on Quazarn, Tallbard stands sideways, trying to keep both the door and the warlock in view. He takes a quick glance and spies the attendant.
"Chester? What's going on here?" demands the Chief distractedly, then turns quickly back to Hobson. "Officer, secure the warlock!"
Dr Rotwang!
[Well, so much for my well-thought-out plan to nut the cop and run.]
Max
"How should I know, Chief Balltard?" mumbles Chester sourly. "I been on my break"
Tallbard's mustache bristles, and he turns for an instant to glare at the orc. "What did you just call me, boy?"
[The 'officer' in question is just Hobson, and Chester is just the orc locker room attendant and general dogsbody. That's clear, right?]
Dr Rotwang!
[Not really. I was calling Ballt- uh, Tallbard 'ossifer', and I have no idea who this Chet guy is. Is it safe to cock-knock the Cheef?]
Max
[Is it safe? You'll have to decide that for yourself.
[But Chet doesn't seem likely to run to his defense. If you had to guess he's been sparking magic incense on his break, and he's not exactly gazing upon the Chief with a look of reverent affection.]
Dr Rotwang!
Quazarn sighs. "Chief Balltard," he says, "The truth must out. There is no symbiote. But!", he declares with a flourish, "There is another thing you must know!"
And Quazarn, The Warlock Who Sucked At being A Warlock, grits his teeth and kicks Tallbard in the groin.
[ATTACK ROLL: 25!]
wulfgar
You made my morning Doc.
Age of Fable
"Oh no! He has magically escaped his bonds, which I definitely had him in!"
Max
[You can go ahead and roll for damage when you attack, along with a Saving Throw for defense. But in this case Chief T's Save was so good you needn't bother with the damage...]
Chief Tallbard is surprised by the conehead's sudden attack, but evades the kick with a the hip swivel of a champion hula-hooper. He raises his hands, palms out.
"Easy tiger. No need to make things any harder for yourself, son. Just take a deep breath and relax. We just need to ask you a few questions." The Chief's voice is deep and calm, laid back like a late night DJ spinning lazy soul records. Chill.
Quazarn feels all the tension in his body ebb away, and begins to wonder what there was to get worked up about.
Monday, October 13, 2008
Hobson & Quazarn: Police and Thieves
Hobson and Quazarn have finally given Chief Tallbard the slip, or so they think...
Age of Fable
I'll continue with my plan to rob the lockers, unless Quazarn objects:
I convinced the camera-bot to stop recording. Hopefully there aren't any other cameras around [have I noticed any?].
Max
[Shooting the locks with your crossbow just ain't gonna work, you quickly deduce. Maybe if you had some Oliver Queen Model Torsion Bolts.
Just to keep things rolling, go ahead and make 3 percentile rolls for me.]
Age of Fable
54, 13, 84
Dr Rotwang!
[No objections, but how are we gettin' outta here?]
Max
Once the Chief is out of sight Quazarn & Hobson duck into the locker room. There's no sign of Chet the orcish orderly, nor anyone else, and Hobson doesn't spot any cameras on the way.
A black mood seems to have come over Quazarn, who stands watch near the swinging door of the locker room, brooding silently. Striving for an air of mystery and danger, the effect is spoiled by the conehead's quivering lower lip.*
Hobson sets to the lockers with a bobby pin and a laminated library card, and thanks to shoddy craftsmanship opens the first two lickety split. His findings, alas, are meager: in the first is only a Beggar's Guild sun-visor, a tin cup and 2 GC; in the second a monks cowl, a string of plain wooden prayer beads, and an iron-shod staff. The third lock just won't tumble.
*[My thought here Doc, is that since you're on vacation Quazarn is under a morbid psychometric cloud. Feel free to chime in if/when you can but if you don't get a chance he'll just follow Hobson around. Cool?]
Dr Rotwang!
Aces. Thanks!
Age of Fable
I'll try all the lockers unless something interrupts me.
Max
[Great. Go ahead and give me three new percentile rolls -- you're rolling steal, by the way, with some bonuses behind the JM screen. Every three lockers takes you about 5 minutes -- I'll post your findings and any other events of interest after each set of rolls.
[Do let me know what, if anything, you're *removing* from the lockers.]
Age of Fable
I've done a few 'sets' of rolls:
[67] [1] [21]
[10] [47] [22]
[6] [92] [100]
[47] [32] [93]
[69] [25] [35]
Max
Hobson makes his way methodically down the row of lockers. The first lock he tries comes apart in his hands, but the door itself is stuck tight. In frustration he bangs the door with his fist...and the next locker down swings open!* After that Hobson has much better luck, and has four more lockers open in a wink and two shakes.
Sadly he doesn't find much of interest: street clothes, smelly shorts, a few protein bars and a single dented gold credit. There's a spiked morning star in one locker, and a hobling-sized suit of quilted armor in another.** The only other item of note is a mottled purple melon -- a boomango [i.e. primitive grenade].
There's a sound of singing from the corridor. "Forsooth," sighs a world-weary Quazarn. "Chief Tallbard!"
*[This Fonzie moment brought to you by a critical success -- Australians know who the Fonz is, yeah?]
**[would add 33% to your Save, but reduce your movement to 3" and lower your melee ATT by 18%]
Age of Fable
I'll continue with my plan to rob the lockers, unless Quazarn objects:
- pick the locks, or shoot them off.
- have the door closed.
- lock the door if it locks, or if not have Quazarn stand against it, so that we know when the Chief's coming back.
I convinced the camera-bot to stop recording. Hopefully there aren't any other cameras around [have I noticed any?].
Max
[Shooting the locks with your crossbow just ain't gonna work, you quickly deduce. Maybe if you had some Oliver Queen Model Torsion Bolts.
Just to keep things rolling, go ahead and make 3 percentile rolls for me.]
Age of Fable
54, 13, 84
Dr Rotwang!
[No objections, but how are we gettin' outta here?]
Max
Once the Chief is out of sight Quazarn & Hobson duck into the locker room. There's no sign of Chet the orcish orderly, nor anyone else, and Hobson doesn't spot any cameras on the way.
A black mood seems to have come over Quazarn, who stands watch near the swinging door of the locker room, brooding silently. Striving for an air of mystery and danger, the effect is spoiled by the conehead's quivering lower lip.*
Hobson sets to the lockers with a bobby pin and a laminated library card, and thanks to shoddy craftsmanship opens the first two lickety split. His findings, alas, are meager: in the first is only a Beggar's Guild sun-visor, a tin cup and 2 GC; in the second a monks cowl, a string of plain wooden prayer beads, and an iron-shod staff. The third lock just won't tumble.
*[My thought here Doc, is that since you're on vacation Quazarn is under a morbid psychometric cloud. Feel free to chime in if/when you can but if you don't get a chance he'll just follow Hobson around. Cool?]
Dr Rotwang!
Aces. Thanks!
Age of Fable
I'll try all the lockers unless something interrupts me.
Max
[Great. Go ahead and give me three new percentile rolls -- you're rolling steal, by the way, with some bonuses behind the JM screen. Every three lockers takes you about 5 minutes -- I'll post your findings and any other events of interest after each set of rolls.
[Do let me know what, if anything, you're *removing* from the lockers.]
Age of Fable
I've done a few 'sets' of rolls:
[67] [1] [21]
[10] [47] [22]
[6] [92] [100]
[47] [32] [93]
[69] [25] [35]
Max
Hobson makes his way methodically down the row of lockers. The first lock he tries comes apart in his hands, but the door itself is stuck tight. In frustration he bangs the door with his fist...and the next locker down swings open!* After that Hobson has much better luck, and has four more lockers open in a wink and two shakes.
Sadly he doesn't find much of interest: street clothes, smelly shorts, a few protein bars and a single dented gold credit. There's a spiked morning star in one locker, and a hobling-sized suit of quilted armor in another.** The only other item of note is a mottled purple melon -- a boomango [i.e. primitive grenade].
There's a sound of singing from the corridor. "Forsooth," sighs a world-weary Quazarn. "Chief Tallbard!"
*[This Fonzie moment brought to you by a critical success -- Australians know who the Fonz is, yeah?]
**[would add 33% to your Save, but reduce your movement to 3" and lower your melee ATT by 18%]
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
Hobson & Quazarn Meet The Chief
Having found his companions no longer in need of rescuing Hobson heads back out of the arena...
Age of Fable
...I'm going to go back to my original plan of robbing the lockers. If I can't pick the locks I'll try to shoot them off with the crossbow.
Then I'll try and find Quazarn.
Max
[At the moment, Quazarn is still nearby -- just inside the ramp]
Age of Fable
[I thought he was running for the car? If not...]
"Oh, hi Quazarn. You wanna help me rob the lockers?"
Max
The conehead stares quizzically back at you. Not even a faint glimmer of recognition lights his eyes.
[Sorry, Doc, rolled "01" for Mistaken ID, and Quazarn has no danged idea who this hobling copper is...]
Age of Fable
"OK - imagine me with a cavalier's hat."
Dr Rotwang!
[WHOA! Sorry, guys -- 10/7 was my birthday, so that night was spent eating wings and watching Iron Man. The breakroom computer was borked at work, and on 10/8 I was out late doing stand-up comedy. Yes, I wore the tie.]
Quazarn eyes the hobling quizzically. "Rob? Lockers? Hold on, now," he blurts out, "WHAT?! Who are you?" He casts a glance back out into the arena and sees the battle groups forming. "Oh, wait, now -- who are they?!"
He shakes his pointy head and his gills flutter with exasperation. "I ought to be taking notes..."
Max
Hobson stands tapping his foot, waiting for the confused conehead to recognize him. Quazarn glances back and forth between hobling and arena in a state of morbid psychometric confusion -- no doubt exacerbated by a sudden daydream of open mic night in an off-license comedy club.
"There you are officer. And you've nailed the cheating warlock!" A strapping, mustachioed human in a tight black uniform strides toward you. His baritone voice rings musically from the tunnel walls. "I could just sing!"1
[Still a fair ways away -- just passing through the turnstiles. Between you and him are the passageways leading off to the lounges, the narrow screening gate at the foot of the ramp leading into the arena, and a silently weeping camera-droid.
[Note also that these events take place several hours earlier in the day than the fighting going on in the arena, so we'll have to get real, um, creative if that's where you're running off to...]
Age of Fable
"The cheating warlock certainly...although, depending on your intended use of the term, I may not be nailing him. Indeed, I must remove him at once, to...oh dear...interrogate him in the locker room."
Max
"I like the sound of that! Let's slow down a bit though." The Chief continues strutting toward you. "I don't think I recognize you, officer. What precinct are you from?"
Age of Fable
"Well, keep it under your hat, but I'm actually on secondment from the Hobling Imperial Guards. Special arrangement, bit hush-hush. This fellow is accused of a series of major pie thefts."
I'll try and stand back a bit to minimise the danger of him noticing my uniform is fake.
Max
[Just to reiterate, he's still a fair bit off, though hustling toward you. You are nearer the lounges than he, for the moment (Not trying to be leading, just making sure my descriptions have given you a fair picture of the situation).]
Dr Rotwang!
Quazarn's wit is quick -- the speed of his thoughts is envied by even the Speed-Demons of Lambore Guinea! Thus --
-- he clutches his gut! "HAAAAAGHHHH!" he cries out, doubling over in a perfect mimicry of a man tortured! "AAAGH! THE SYMBIOTE! IT'S--"
He flops down upon Hobson. "Officer, you have to -- quickly, before it --"
Silently, Quazarn prays to Thooptia The Maladroit, Patron Goddess of the Quick-Witted, that Hobson is as clever as he.
Age of Fable
"Again with the symbiote?" I roll my eyes at the Chief, in a 'Symbiotes huh? Am I right?' kind of way, and make as if to leave.
Max
"Symbiote, is it? Terrible for my voice if it's catching..." He chews his mustache, then nods manfully, "Still and all, no way to get around it. The warlock has to be questioned. Got to get right to the bottom of the situation, eh officer? If worst comes to worst I'm sure I've got Symbiote Repellent in my office. Try to be prepared for whatever happens, you know."
Age of Fable
"Yes...indeed." I salute and take my leave.
Dr Rotwang!
Quazarn barks at the (legitimate) cop. "REPELLENT?! WELL GO GET IT, YOU FOOL!" He clutches his chest, his stomach, his throat. "GET ALL OF IT!"
[Command Roll: 92 FAIL]
Age of Fable
"Yes, that's right...just come on, we'll go get your repellent" I say to Quazarn in a 'humouring him' voice.
"He'll be right in a few minutes" I say to the Chief.
Max
"Hrm, now listen up and listen good, conehead. You're in no position to order anyone around, least of all me! I'm #1 around here, top of the food chain, and you are just another cheating little bottom-feeder."
Age of Fable
"Yes, that's right...just come on, we'll go get your repellent" I say to Quazarn in a 'humouring him' voice.
"He'll be right in a few minutes" I say to the Chief.
Mollified by Hobson's words the Chief nods, "Take charge, Officer. Get his back up against the wall and make 'im sing soprano! I'll go get that repellent and I'll be back before you can say 'inappropriate use of force!' "
[OOC:
Dr Rotwang!
Silently, Quazarn prays to Thooptia The Maladroit, Patron Goddess of the Quick-Witted, that Hobson is as clever as he.
[Guy down at Qwik-N-EZ Oil Change & Pantheon Tune-Ups: "So yer tellin' me yer patron a' Quick-Wits is Thoopcha th' Mal-adroit? See now, there's yer problem!"]
Max
Chief Tallbard turns smartly on his heel, and walks away, his black uniform hugging every inch of his--
Oh, sorry. Don't know what came over me. He walks away, anyway. Yeah. Now what?
-------------------
1 The Chief's appearance and innuendo owe much to the following exchange:
Rondo "Get him Creech! Shove his elbow up his butt!"
Fable "It's all getting very Tom of Finland here at the arena..."
Age of Fable
...I'm going to go back to my original plan of robbing the lockers. If I can't pick the locks I'll try to shoot them off with the crossbow.
Then I'll try and find Quazarn.
Max
[At the moment, Quazarn is still nearby -- just inside the ramp]
Age of Fable
[I thought he was running for the car? If not...]
"Oh, hi Quazarn. You wanna help me rob the lockers?"
Max
The conehead stares quizzically back at you. Not even a faint glimmer of recognition lights his eyes.
[Sorry, Doc, rolled "01" for Mistaken ID, and Quazarn has no danged idea who this hobling copper is...]
Age of Fable
"OK - imagine me with a cavalier's hat."
Dr Rotwang!
[WHOA! Sorry, guys -- 10/7 was my birthday, so that night was spent eating wings and watching Iron Man. The breakroom computer was borked at work, and on 10/8 I was out late doing stand-up comedy. Yes, I wore the tie.]
Quazarn eyes the hobling quizzically. "Rob? Lockers? Hold on, now," he blurts out, "WHAT?! Who are you?" He casts a glance back out into the arena and sees the battle groups forming. "Oh, wait, now -- who are they?!"
He shakes his pointy head and his gills flutter with exasperation. "I ought to be taking notes..."
Max
Hobson stands tapping his foot, waiting for the confused conehead to recognize him. Quazarn glances back and forth between hobling and arena in a state of morbid psychometric confusion -- no doubt exacerbated by a sudden daydream of open mic night in an off-license comedy club.
"There you are officer. And you've nailed the cheating warlock!" A strapping, mustachioed human in a tight black uniform strides toward you. His baritone voice rings musically from the tunnel walls. "I could just sing!"1[Still a fair ways away -- just passing through the turnstiles. Between you and him are the passageways leading off to the lounges, the narrow screening gate at the foot of the ramp leading into the arena, and a silently weeping camera-droid.
[Note also that these events take place several hours earlier in the day than the fighting going on in the arena, so we'll have to get real, um, creative if that's where you're running off to...]
Age of Fable
"The cheating warlock certainly...although, depending on your intended use of the term, I may not be nailing him. Indeed, I must remove him at once, to...oh dear...interrogate him in the locker room."
Max
"I like the sound of that! Let's slow down a bit though." The Chief continues strutting toward you. "I don't think I recognize you, officer. What precinct are you from?"
Age of Fable
"Well, keep it under your hat, but I'm actually on secondment from the Hobling Imperial Guards. Special arrangement, bit hush-hush. This fellow is accused of a series of major pie thefts."
I'll try and stand back a bit to minimise the danger of him noticing my uniform is fake.
Max
[Just to reiterate, he's still a fair bit off, though hustling toward you. You are nearer the lounges than he, for the moment (Not trying to be leading, just making sure my descriptions have given you a fair picture of the situation).]
Dr Rotwang!
Quazarn's wit is quick -- the speed of his thoughts is envied by even the Speed-Demons of Lambore Guinea! Thus --
-- he clutches his gut! "HAAAAAGHHHH!" he cries out, doubling over in a perfect mimicry of a man tortured! "AAAGH! THE SYMBIOTE! IT'S--"
He flops down upon Hobson. "Officer, you have to -- quickly, before it --"
Silently, Quazarn prays to Thooptia The Maladroit, Patron Goddess of the Quick-Witted, that Hobson is as clever as he.
Age of Fable
"Again with the symbiote?" I roll my eyes at the Chief, in a 'Symbiotes huh? Am I right?' kind of way, and make as if to leave.
Max
"Symbiote, is it? Terrible for my voice if it's catching..." He chews his mustache, then nods manfully, "Still and all, no way to get around it. The warlock has to be questioned. Got to get right to the bottom of the situation, eh officer? If worst comes to worst I'm sure I've got Symbiote Repellent in my office. Try to be prepared for whatever happens, you know."
Age of Fable
"Yes...indeed." I salute and take my leave.
Dr Rotwang!
Quazarn barks at the (legitimate) cop. "REPELLENT?! WELL GO GET IT, YOU FOOL!" He clutches his chest, his stomach, his throat. "GET ALL OF IT!"
[Command Roll: 92 FAIL]
Age of Fable
"Yes, that's right...just come on, we'll go get your repellent" I say to Quazarn in a 'humouring him' voice.
"He'll be right in a few minutes" I say to the Chief.
Max
"Hrm, now listen up and listen good, conehead. You're in no position to order anyone around, least of all me! I'm #1 around here, top of the food chain, and you are just another cheating little bottom-feeder."
Age of Fable
"Yes, that's right...just come on, we'll go get your repellent" I say to Quazarn in a 'humouring him' voice.
"He'll be right in a few minutes" I say to the Chief.
Mollified by Hobson's words the Chief nods, "Take charge, Officer. Get his back up against the wall and make 'im sing soprano! I'll go get that repellent and I'll be back before you can say 'inappropriate use of force!' "
[OOC:
Dr Rotwang!
Silently, Quazarn prays to Thooptia The Maladroit, Patron Goddess of the Quick-Witted, that Hobson is as clever as he.
[Guy down at Qwik-N-EZ Oil Change & Pantheon Tune-Ups: "So yer tellin' me yer patron a' Quick-Wits is Thoopcha th' Mal-adroit? See now, there's yer problem!"]
Max
Chief Tallbard turns smartly on his heel, and walks away, his black uniform hugging every inch of his--
Oh, sorry. Don't know what came over me. He walks away, anyway. Yeah. Now what?
-------------------
1 The Chief's appearance and innuendo owe much to the following exchange:
Rondo "Get him Creech! Shove his elbow up his butt!"
Fable "It's all getting very Tom of Finland here at the arena..."
Thursday, October 2, 2008
The Brawl: A Cone Alone
Max
Dr Rotwang!
[Quazarn] covers his face with his hands -- wipes them downward -- and dashes away, totally oblivious to the fact that he has not, in fact, turned invisible.
wulfgar
Creature waves goodbye to Quazarn. "Bye...bye...pointy..head"
Quazarn hotfoots it for the tunnel, pursued by whatever the hell a disenchanter is. The circle of gawking fighters parts for him -- puzzling given his invisibility -- and he's almost to the tunnel when the first goon clomps up the ramp.
Then the second and third.
And the fourth.
And fifth.
Sixth, and surely last?
Only if you don't count the seventh.
The goons sniff the air as they enter the arena, catching the sweat of battle. Despite the shouted commands of the dwarven wrangler, they begin stamping and shoving. Three goons charge off into the arena, swinging their fists wildly as they go. Two others nearly trample Quazarn on their way to the heap of unconscious fighters.
But two still remain, standing between the warlock and the tunnel. Implausibly enough, one of them seems to be staring right at him.
Dr Rotwang!
[I must consider my next move very carefully and, as such, it may take me a couple-three hours. I'm at work.]
Dr Rotwang!
Quazarn, who is brilliant and handsome, doesn't miss a beat. "The enchanter!" he cries to the goons, gesturing imperiously back at a dude who is currently overjoyed with himself. "Get him, GET HIM!"
[Quazarn's Command skill is 83%; I rolled a 65.]
Max
The goons blink at Quazarn's stentorian voice and commanding mien, staring back and forth between the warlock and the other fighter. The goons huddle up, knock their heads together, and begin shoving. Their wrangler, red-faced and screaming, hops on one leg, pointing at Quazarn, but they ignore him. For the moment anyway.
The Dirty Deezen on the other hand, Quazarn's unwilling decoy, is now extremely focused on the warlock. His happy-go-lucky grin drops away, and a fell light shines in his eyes. He tugs a cauliflowered ear, points at Quazarn and makes a violent gesture the meaning of which is impossible to mistake.
Dr Rotwang! [Quazarn's Command skill is 83%; I rolled a 65.]
[NB. To truly command them you'd need to roll Monster Friend as well. Dunno how lucky you're feeling.]
Dr Rotwang!
Quazarn rolls his eyes at the goons and attempts to sneak past. [Sneak 29% is better than 4%, so I'll try that...wow, good thing, too!]
Once past the goons, Quazarn applies his astonishing mental energies towards formulating a plan. He just needs an idea to build on -- a spark for the fire, as it were...
[Max, can I roll Clue and get some sort of assist in building an escape plan for us all?]
Max
[You can always roll whatever you want. I'll let you know if what you're trying to do is bogus.]
Dr Rotwang!
[Clue 28%; I rolled at 47.]
Quazarn grasps his prodigiously-pointed crown in exasperation and focus. "think, think think think -- !"
...but no idea comes.
He peeks back out into the fray.
Max
Ignoring several lewd suggestions and low slanders from the Dirty Deezen Quazarn sneaks past the goons and wins free to the ramp. A dozen apothecary goblins huddle there with stretchers and spray cans of smelling salts, waiting for a break in the fighting.
Amidst all the bedlam Quazarn seems to have avoided all of his pursuers save one: peering out into the arena the warlock feels tingling sensation as something prods his shoulder. Looking back, he faces the disenchanter. The beast probes him with its wriggling trunk, poking the tip into each of his ears in turn. Disappointed by Quazarn's puny magical energy it bleats sadly and trots back to its pen.
Dr Rotwang!
Recovering from the sudden shock of being felt up by the disenchanter, Quazarn sneers after it, "Go tell your friends, you third-rate louse."
He quickly gets to the business of staying the hell out of harm's way and looking for a way to assist his teammates.
Dr Rotwang!
[Quazarn] covers his face with his hands -- wipes them downward -- and dashes away, totally oblivious to the fact that he has not, in fact, turned invisible.
wulfgar
Creature waves goodbye to Quazarn. "Bye...bye...pointy..head"
Quazarn hotfoots it for the tunnel, pursued by whatever the hell a disenchanter is. The circle of gawking fighters parts for him -- puzzling given his invisibility -- and he's almost to the tunnel when the first goon clomps up the ramp.
Then the second and third.
And the fourth.
And fifth.
Sixth, and surely last?
Only if you don't count the seventh.
The goons sniff the air as they enter the arena, catching the sweat of battle. Despite the shouted commands of the dwarven wrangler, they begin stamping and shoving. Three goons charge off into the arena, swinging their fists wildly as they go. Two others nearly trample Quazarn on their way to the heap of unconscious fighters.
But two still remain, standing between the warlock and the tunnel. Implausibly enough, one of them seems to be staring right at him.
Dr Rotwang!
[I must consider my next move very carefully and, as such, it may take me a couple-three hours. I'm at work.]
Dr Rotwang!
Quazarn, who is brilliant and handsome, doesn't miss a beat. "The enchanter!" he cries to the goons, gesturing imperiously back at a dude who is currently overjoyed with himself. "Get him, GET HIM!"[Quazarn's Command skill is 83%; I rolled a 65.]
Max
The goons blink at Quazarn's stentorian voice and commanding mien, staring back and forth between the warlock and the other fighter. The goons huddle up, knock their heads together, and begin shoving. Their wrangler, red-faced and screaming, hops on one leg, pointing at Quazarn, but they ignore him. For the moment anyway.
The Dirty Deezen on the other hand, Quazarn's unwilling decoy, is now extremely focused on the warlock. His happy-go-lucky grin drops away, and a fell light shines in his eyes. He tugs a cauliflowered ear, points at Quazarn and makes a violent gesture the meaning of which is impossible to mistake.
Dr Rotwang! [Quazarn's Command skill is 83%; I rolled a 65.]
[NB. To truly command them you'd need to roll Monster Friend as well. Dunno how lucky you're feeling.]
Dr Rotwang!
Quazarn rolls his eyes at the goons and attempts to sneak past. [Sneak 29% is better than 4%, so I'll try that...wow, good thing, too!]
Once past the goons, Quazarn applies his astonishing mental energies towards formulating a plan. He just needs an idea to build on -- a spark for the fire, as it were...
[Max, can I roll Clue and get some sort of assist in building an escape plan for us all?]
Max
[You can always roll whatever you want. I'll let you know if what you're trying to do is bogus.]
Dr Rotwang!
[Clue 28%; I rolled at 47.]
Quazarn grasps his prodigiously-pointed crown in exasperation and focus. "think, think think think -- !"
...but no idea comes.
He peeks back out into the fray.
Max
Ignoring several lewd suggestions and low slanders from the Dirty Deezen Quazarn sneaks past the goons and wins free to the ramp. A dozen apothecary goblins huddle there with stretchers and spray cans of smelling salts, waiting for a break in the fighting.
Amidst all the bedlam Quazarn seems to have avoided all of his pursuers save one: peering out into the arena the warlock feels tingling sensation as something prods his shoulder. Looking back, he faces the disenchanter. The beast probes him with its wriggling trunk, poking the tip into each of his ears in turn. Disappointed by Quazarn's puny magical energy it bleats sadly and trots back to its pen.
Dr Rotwang!
Recovering from the sudden shock of being felt up by the disenchanter, Quazarn sneers after it, "Go tell your friends, you third-rate louse."
He quickly gets to the business of staying the hell out of harm's way and looking for a way to assist his teammates.
