FOUR HUNDRED TWO
(I/C)
In the silence that followed, Brendon rubbed his new bruises and frowned at the notches in his sword. “Well that went better than I thought,” he said wearily, “Huzzah to you all.”
Leaning up against the dead harpy, Wyn wiped the gore off his blade, looking down at the feathered corpse. “Oui. Well, I am glad we did not try dis when de cat en gobs were ‘ere. Also glad it is over.”
From downstairs, they could hear Lannis hobbling about, grunting and hissing in pain. “Ow, fuck ow ow ow. I think I twisted my ankle.”
“Offop,” Wyn called down, “Did ye break anytin? Dat was one brave leap ye made dere.”
"I'm...okay...ish Wyn,” he replied hesitantly, “don't mind me.”
The elf nodded, rudding the side of his head and sighed, “I tink my ears be ringin’ fer de next few ‘ours.”
Lannis chuckled, answering, “That happens! On the plus side the fall got rid of that ringing sound for me,” he paused and then groaned, “Wait...there it is.”
Brendon called down with awe, “Lannis that was amazing. You’ll make a good pirate one day.”
“‘ow’s de dwarf doin’ down dere?”
“Helmet’s dented, blood running out of him in various places, groaning in pain and unconscious. But don’t ask me, I’m not a doctor. That might be how dwarves always look when sleeping.”
From further down, Abraxas had rummaged around his backpack and withdrew his potion of Extra Healing. Smiling grimly, he popped the top and tilted it down his throat, drinking deep (Heal 2d6, White 2+6 = Heal 8!), feeling the many aches and pains ease up just a tiny bit. Looking around in the dark, he reached down and hoisted Greisse up with a low moaning grunt and settled her on his shoulders. He looked up the 40 feet of steps to the window of light above, placed one hand on the wall, and proceeded to climb one aching foot at a time. “"Señor Langas,” he called up.
“Hang on a second, guys,” the Magic User said, heading back to the stairs heading down. “Yeah, Abraxas? You ok?”
“I’m…hokay. Can tu wake Señor Komatose? Estoy bringing ese Hardpee arriba. Donde vayamos ahora, amigos?”
"He'll wake up soon enough,” Lannis replied, “and if he doesn't we can just throw him in the bag and carry him that way.”
Wyn glanced down at the harpy he was sitting by and stood up. “We need to check de ‘arpies en de skellie remains to see iffin dey ‘ave any useful stuffs on dem. I’ll check de ‘arpy on de upper floor en what be left of de skellies up ‘ere to see what dey may ‘ave on dem.” He looked over at Brendon, “Du Lac, if you want de feathers, feel free to pluck de birds when I be done.”
Rubbing his hands together, the Scout said, “I’m gonna fuck…er…I mean PLUCK this thing. She’s already been fucked.”
Lannis asked from below, “Why are you going to rip out her feathers?”
“Aren’t they worth money?” Brendon asked.
“Um..no.”
“No, like for magic, aren’t they worth a lot?”
Lannis laughed, “No. Where did you hear such shit?”
“I swore I had asked this and someone had said, Yes. A lot!”
The Magic User shook his head. “Never happened. And if it did, it was answering another question. It’s a harpy, they smell. They aren’t worth any more dead than anything else we’ve traded blows with in here. If you want to practice being Jeffrey Dahlmer, that’s up to you to own. But don’t wrap it up in “plundering the mysterious dead for fun and profit” and expect that boat to hold water.”
“Cen someone down dere let Wyn know if my bow still be in one piece, s’il vous plaît?”
“Yeah, it’s here. I know the hammer is here too, she smacked Fatbottom in the Hat holder with it. Abraxas is bringing it up.” He paused, “Hey Princess, your flail and shield are here too.”
“Great,” she replied, “Bring it up when you can.”
“I’m not your Fetchit, don’t get used to this.” He shouldered the bow, flail, and shield and groaned in pain, his limbs hurting. “Hey Mutt, I hurt my ankle, fix me."
Lyra scoffed, “I was going to congratulate Lannis for growing a pair finally, but not that I’m a MUTT. You can go fuck yourself.”
"Not A Mutt,” he said, speaking slowly, “just Mutt. Singular. Mutts are noble dogs, now fix me."
She was looking over the body and shrugged, calling down, “Also... sorry. All out of healing. We will need to use potions.”
“Whatever.”
Kovid gave a deep cough and rolled over, pulling his helm off and hacking up a few mouthfuls of blood. “Well that hurt more than Travis. Anyone got any aspirin? Cuz I have a bad fucking headache." He looked around. “Did we win?”
“Zero sum speaking? Yes we did. There are degrees of wining, and I think we cut this one a bit close to the bone.”
“So it feels,” he looked to the stairs as Abraxas finished his ascending, rocking back and forth, the dead harpy on his back. “Wow!” Kovid said, “and I thought I looked bad.”
“Si, Senor. Glad to see you awake.” He pointed to his head. “That looks…bad.”
“Yeah. It feels bad.”
The three men then worked their way up the spiral stairs, each one limping, wincing, or walking with a hitch in their steps. As they emerged, the other three party members each tried to mask their concerned expressions. “You all look pretty rough...,” Wyn said slowly. “Iffin anyone needs dis ‘ealin’ potion, let me know, oui?
Abraxas lowered the harpy to the ground for the group to search over, and Lannis returned the fallen weapons back to everyone. Holding his warhammer out, Kovid walked over to Greisse and looked at her dead face, the red ruin of her throat looking like a second smile. He then raised his weapon up and brought it down hard, smashing the mid joints and base joints on both of her wings. "I told you I'd clip your wings... pretty bird."
As for items found, the skeletons had nothing of value on them, but the two harpies each provided something for the group. On the first one we found a woven leather necklace festooned with small dragon teeth. Brendon gave it a look over (Thief Int>12, no roll) and he said, “Nice. Easily 75 crowns back it Specularum.”
Greisse did provide us with a silver hairclip that had an Onyx set of gems set in it and (d4 – Blue 1) 1 Healing potion in a pocket in her vest. Once again Brendon looked over the bit of jewelry and commented, “Same. Worth 75 crowns back home. Oh Nice! Healing potion. Poseidon knows we need it.”
“Where to next, mes amis?” Wyn asked.
“I think it might be time to lay low,” Lannis suggested, “I don't think we have another fight in us.”
Pointing down the hole, Abraxas offered, “Let's reset que trap. Then, let's recover a bit y regroup.”
Motioning absently around then, Brendon said, “So, I guess we’re off to our favorite spot to rest?”
The Fighter agreed, giving a thumbs up. “Are we going after Smullpux y sus crew next? Destroying ese stairs? Decapasus? Los Guardianos?”
“Lannis,” Brendon asked, “Harpies really aren’t worth anything? Feathers? Anything?”
“No Brendon,” he replied. “They aren’t.”
“Just checking. Again.”
“So many choices,” Lyra said. “Whatever we do, let’s get out of here, we’ve been here a bit too long as it is.”
(WMC: Red/Black 1. Fuck me. 1-3 upstairs, 4-6 downstairs. Green 4 – Downstairs. What? Red/Black 9. Here we go)
The Scout held his hand up and moved to the circular stairs, hand cupped to ear and straining. “Wait? I can hear…scratching. At the door. Echoing up the long hall.”
The party waited as Brendon concentrated, eyes closed, senses stretching, until he could definitely hear the door unlatch, and open. Hard. It thumped into the wall. And then he could hear some waffling noises, some sniffing…and a questioning…”Hrooo…Haaaaa?” Followed by another different ursine grunting.
“And…Hoots and his lady,” he pointed down, voice pitched low to an anxious whisper, “they just opened the door far below. And are coming.”
Nodding once, Lannis dusted off his legs and pointed to the door out of here. “I believe the famous expression by Lady Weaver is ‘Well Fuck That’ and applies here.”
Time now is Day 9, 2:20 PM
(OOC)
Fucking WMC – lol.
Treasure xp: 75+75=150 divided
25 xp each.
Who is carrying the jewelry? Where are we going?
No comments:
Post a Comment