# Gospog's Dying Earth Story Hour



## Gospog (Mar 29, 2002)

This is my first attempt at a Story Hour, so please give me some feedback here. 

That being said, I cannot reccomend the Dying Earth RPG highly enough.  I hope you have as much fun reading my story hour as I had running the game.  

Thanks for reading.

____________________________________________________
                                      Roots
                         A Tale of the Dying Earth

Dramatis Personae:

Turlo:  Turlo used to be apprenticed to a Magician, before he realized that being an apprentice is hard work.  Hard work is something Turlo tries very hard to avoid, so he decided to seek his fortune abroad in the dying earth.

Wisk:  Wisk is a cut-throat of the lowest order.  He would sell you his mother for five terces, and, if required, count you back your change in groats.  Wisk was "unjustly" accused of some foul deed in Almery and has taken to the road to escape undeserved retribution.

Bork:  Bork was a lumberjack, but tired of the physical demands of the job.  He decided travel in the larger world outside the forest would only lead to a fatter purse and days of leisure.  He has few possessions that have not yet been stolen from him and is becoming increasingly wary of big cities.

Babetta:  Babetta is a dabbler in the arcane arts but has learned all she knows from ancient texts and the bifurcate carvings of the pillars of Nalb.  She is traveling with the intent of increasing both her magical knowledge and her purse.  So far, neither increases with notable rapidity.

Scene One: Durske
Rain drizzles down into muddy streets.  The clouds look full enough to pour down rain, but like everyone else in the Dying Earth, they do not see the point in expending so much effort.  A few ramshackle buildings lean against the wind; their windows are bored spectators, observing a scene of filth and squalor.  Garbage is dumped into the streets, where gangs of unfortunate wretches fight for the spoils it may yield.  Welcome to Burske.

Wisk casts a wary eye around the room as he enters the Starlight, the only inn in Burske.  The bartender, a man of several decades and a unique odor, nods to him with a sour grimace.  Wisk contemplates putting his health at risk by ordering a drink, but clutches his thin purse reflexively.  He has but five terces, and a carriage ticket out of Burske costs six.  He must not only avoid needless expense, but also find a way to increase his supply of terces, and soon.  Like any sane man, Wisk wants very badly to be out of Burske.

Wisk spies a table in the corner.  Three men are sitting down to gamble, and a fourth seat remains open.  Being careful that his bootless feet do not tread on anything dangerous on the floor of the inn, he approaches the table.

WISK
“Gentlemen, my name is Wisk.  I am from out of town, but I prevail upon your kindness, and the avarice of your purses, to allow me to join you for a game of chance or two.”

The men agree, their names are Phonoraj, Uthral and Buthander.  Phonoraj produces an old pack of cards and proceeds to teach all assembled a game called Funeral Swirl.  By an astounding turn of fate, Wisk walks away with the entire pot, a sum of 25 terces.  Added to his five, he now has a fat purse of 30 terces.  He leaves the inn.

Wisk feels exposed with so much wealth, standing on the only main road in town.  He ducks down an alley, and pauses to take stock of his winnings and plan his best course of action.  A familiar voice rings out.
“There he is!”

Buthander (who is quite large) and Uthral and approaching him from the other end of the alley.  They each carry a wooden table leg in their hand.  Wisk turns and takes to his heels, promptly falling flat on his face.  The two thugs drag him from the ground, slamming him into a nearby wall.
“We know you cheated!  Because we were cheating too, and you still beat us!”
The pair of losers are maddened with rage and sudden poverty.  They raise their impromptu clubs high.

At that very moment, Bork Babetta and Turlo are traversing the alley.  They are bickering because hesitation on Bork’s part caused them a share of the last pile of garbage to be flung out of a second story window.  They have been trying to get out of Burske for three weeks and are completely destitute.  Babetta sees Wisk, and the fix he is in, and her eyes light up with potential profit.

BABETTA
“Gentlemen!  As a traveler from afar, ignorant of your customs, I thought it best to watch quietly a few moments, lest in error I commit a solecism.  However, even in my native land, it seems rude to threaten the well-being of another man in such a way, and I assume he is to be robbed as well?”

The thugs turn as one and are clearly surprised to see three strangers addressing them.  One of them a striking female (Babetta) and one of them quite large and holding an axe (Bork).
“My good lady, you have the details of the situation askew.   My friend and I are taking nothing that does not already belong to us.  Our good friend and confidante here was simply holding on to a certain sum for us until such a time as we saw fit to reclaim it.  Such a time is upon us.”

BABETTA
“It would seem that as I have only helped to speed along the execution of your transaction, you should perhaps leave compensation of some kind, in consideration of my efforts?”

The thugs take a second look at the armed group of strangers and drop Wisk.  “We humbly take your leave”.
The thugs place their clubs at Babetta’s feet, like an offering, and run for their lives out of the alley.

WISK
“That was timely intervention, I thank you.”

BABETTA
“Your thanks are well received.  But, pardoning my boldness, I would receive more.  Without doubt, we just saved your life.  I would say that such an act puts you in my debt, if not that of the group.  Coming to a quick calculation, I realize that you owe me the sum of six terces, enough for a carriage ticket out of town.”

WISK
“In all candor, I was just robbed by those men and am bereft of wealth.”

Babetta takes a close look at Wisk, but does not see the purse hidden under his robes.  She does, however, notice his lack of shoes.

TURLO
“Where are you bound, stranger?  We ourselves could think of no better course than one that leads out of Burske, but lack the funds to make such a wish a reality.”

WISK
“And you are..?”

BORK
“A dishonest mendicant!  Such is a fair description of Turlo, who would blame me for our lack of wealth!”

TURLO
The concept is jejune.  Good Wisk, my associates and I are well known at the carriage house.  We have attempted to obtain transit for some three weeks now without success.  We would be glad to lead you there.”


WISK
“I graciously accept your offer of guidance.”

TURLO
“That being the case, why allow us to lead you to the carriage house, if you are bereft of coin?”

WISK
“The question is shrouded in technicality.  I advise we be off to the carriage house before those churls return with like-minded thugs, or more menacing implements of theft.”

BORK (to Wisk)
“Do you care to proceed me, or walk discreetly to the rear?”

Bork is carrying a large axe, and the entire group decide to walk discreetly to the rear of him.  In a very short time, they are upon the carriage house.  The rain has stopped, and a morbid wine-colored sun has broken through the clouds.

At the carriage house, they meet Smeadhe, a short, fat man with comically large mustaches and fur-covered pants.  Smeadhe is crying loudly with his face turned to the sky.  His carriage is gone, and he has no idea where.
“There are no tracks on the ground to indicate a departure.  It is as if the sky itself has swallowed my carriage.”

In desperation, Smeadhe offers to take the PCs anywhere they like if they can return his carriage to him.
They agree.

Wisk examines the ground closely, noting gouges in the wet earth.

WISK
See here.  The angle of these gouges indicates a departure by air, to the north.  We shall set our course by such evidence.

TURLO
The direction none can contest, but there are no tracks to follow.  Are you proposing the carriage flew out of here?”

WISK
“The question of locomotion becomes intriguing.  Still, if we stand here and partake in verbal discourse, the sun may well go out before we know the truth of things.   Barring further evidence, we head north."

The group reluctantly follows Wisk, who quickly prompts Bork to walk in the lead when the groups’ path takes them in to the woods north of Burske.  Bork complies, and soon finds the spoor of a pelgrane, dropped form a great height.  Wisk convinces Bork to lend him his axe, and pokes around the feces, looking for further clues.  Finding nothing, he hands a non-plussed Bork his axe and the group continues north.

An hour’s walk later, they come upon the body of a horse.  Something has eaten half of the horse, and recently.  Disturbed, but resolute, they press on northward. Their progress brings them to yet another half-eaten horse, as well as a second pile of pelgrane offal.  Bork is studying this second pile with intense interest, when he looks up and sees a singular sight.  In a clearing in the woods, a tower composed of solid emerald rises into the dimming sky.  Their northerly path would take them directly to the tower.  Furtive growling can be heard from the top of the tower, which is out of sight.

Scene Two: The Emerald Manse
Wasting no time, the group approaches the tower.  Wisk suggests forcing entry, but Babetta points out that this would be a breach of etiquette, and held in poor esteem by the master of this strange tower.  Thus justified, she knocks on the large wooden door before them.
Someone, or something, immediately opens the door.  His shape is that of a man, but several of his features are in odd places.  Most glaring is an eye that rests a generous distance up his forehead.  Hair is missing from his head in clumps, and his back bears a permanent stoop.  
“Welcome to the emerald manse of Imandolo, please come in.”

Imandolo’s manse is impressive.  Almost everything is made of emerald.  Strange vials of powder hang from wire sconces set into the wall.  Occasionally, one of these vials erupts into a spray of rainbow-colored dust.  The servant who answered the door is Lob, whom Imandolo has grown in a vat of his own design.

Lob brings the PCs into a large reception area, where a man in a silk jacket of scintillating green greets them with a smile.
“Hello friends.  Please come in. What brings you to the Emerald Manse of Imandolo?  Am I the happy recipient of a casual visit, or should I steel my complex mind to the intricacies of business?”

TURLO
“Business”

Babetta
“Oh, magnanimous Imandolo, we come before you seeking employment.”

IMANDOLO
“I must be frank, I am not seeking to employ at this moment.  But an issue has arisen that could benefit from the attention of worthies such as yourselves.  Come, to the roof of my tower.”

On the roof of the tower, the PCs are immediately startled by the presence of a pelgrane!  The pelgrane is standing next to a strange assortment of items.  The stolen carriage is there, without horses, as well as a coffin, complete with dead body!  Next to the coffin is a wicker basket full of mis-matched clothes.  The basket has been poorly treated, and is in rough shape.

Imandolo will move quickly to calm PCs spooked by the Pelgrane.  He will flourish a silver bracelet on his arm, and point to a silver collar around the neck of the Pelgrane.

IMANDOLO
“You see before you a Pelgrane, indeed.  Seeing this magical bracelet and collar may lead you to believe that the beast is under my control.  You would be correct in your beliefs, as this is indeed the case!”

“My Pelgrane has been absconding with items to appease me form some time now.  Of course, he is slow of mind, and brings me the most paltry amusements.  I have forbid him from taking humans back to me, or from slaying persons in sport while on my errands.  I suspect this vexes him somewhat.”

At this, the Pelgrane hisses horribly at the sorcerer.
“I will feast on your entrails in a manner most time-consuming, wizard.”

BABETTA
“As fate would have it, we have taken more than a passing interest in your carriage.  Tell us more of the issue that has arisen to vex the mighty Imandolo, and perhaps we can reach a compromise that will be mutually agreeable.”

IMANDOLO
“A cult dedicated to Yoreb the Jowled lives in the woods yonder.  They are monotonous in their rituals and devotions, but not unbearable, even by virtue of their proximity to my tower.  However, their very presence encourages a band of Deodands to roam the area, preying on the cultists with unapparelled ease.  They are cunning enough to never kill all of the cultists, and let their numbers replenish before stalking them anew.”

“The predations of the Deodands makes travel for my colleagues and associates bothersome in this locale.  The Deodands flee me whenever I set foot outside the tower.  They evade constructs sent out to eradicate them.  If the cult left the area, however, the Deodands would soon follow suit.”

“The cult convenes in these woods because of a certain ancient boboka tree.  The tree is said to have grown gnarled and bent and resembles in no small manner Yoreb the Jowled himself.  If this tree were to…disappear, the cultists would leave, the Deodands shortly after.”

“I cannot destroy the tree, my culpability would be unavoidable, and I have no desire for unescescary confrontation with the cultists.  But if a third party, comprised of unknowns, were to eradicate the effigy of Yoreb, and flee the area…I could hardly be called to account for it.”

While Imandolo is talking, Wist sneaks over to the pile of odd clothes.  He discreetly withdraws two mis-matched boots and hides them under his cloak.

Imandolo and Babetta have come to an agreement.  When the PCs return from destroying the tree, the carriage will be waiting for them at the base of the tower.  Wist, boots clutched tightly to his body, is the first to leave the roof.

Turlo garners some strange looks when he asks Imandolo for the corpse that is esting in the coffin.  Imandolo gives him the dead body without argument, and Turlo drags it downstairs, following Wist.

The tree, it turns out, is a mere twenty minutes’ walk from the manse of Imandolo.  The PCs set out immediately, Wist stopping only once outside the manse to put on his newly acquired footwear.


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## drnuncheon (Mar 29, 2002)

Now Tom, it's OK if you want to play with Jack Vance, just remember to put him back when you're done having him write your story hour.



Seriously, that went like a scene out of Cugel the Clever. I'd love to play sometime, but I think trying to talk like that would hurt my little brain!  Keep going! I'm going to send my readers over here to enjoy your SH too...

J


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## Horacio (Mar 29, 2002)

drnuncheon said:
			
		

> *Now Tom, it's OK if you want to play with Jack Vance, just remember to put him back when you're done having him write your story hour.
> 
> 
> 
> ...




And he did it... He sent me here, and I thank him!
Good story! Very good!


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## Fade (Mar 29, 2002)

Wow! This is really well written. Sounds like your players got into the spirit of it as well. Heres hoping for more updates soon!


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## Gospog (Mar 29, 2002)

Dr N, thanks for your support!  You want to play?  Well, maybe something can be arranged for a certain gaming event in July?  I'll see what I can do.

Horacio, thank you as well!  I'm glad you liked it.

Fade, I must be honest.  I did alter the dialougue somewhat from the actual game.  However, I am proud to say that the changes are very minor, and the tag lines have been changed at all!  

My players kicked ass, every one of them!  They made me very,very happy.

Stay tuned, more to come soon!

Tom


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## Gospog (Mar 29, 2002)

*Update!*

Scene Three: Into the Woods

The group walks into the thick woods surrounding the emerald manse.  An ominous hooting can be heard in the distance, and each traveler is glad that the walk promises to be short.

Walking towards the reported home of the tree, they come upon three men making a small camp in the woods.  .  They all wear wooden masks that depict the faces of men with enormous Jowls.  Their robes are pale yellow, and their slippers curl at the toe, with small bells attached.  The cultists do not see the PCs at first, and are busy making a fire.

Babetta and Wisk hide in some nearby bushes as Turlo hails the cultists of Yoreb.

TURLO
“Hello, my friends, I hope the day finds you in high spirits and commendable health.”

The cultists are clearly startled by the arrival of the PCs.  They grab stout wooden staves and rise to face the group.
“The blessings of Yoreb to you, travelers.  What brings you to this grove?”

TURLO
“We are messengers sent by Imandolo the Radiant.  Your presence in these woods draws the attention of many fell Deodands.  Imandolo wants you to leave.”

From the bushes, the sound of both Babetta and Wisk slapping their foreheads in vexation can faintly be heard.

The cultists weigh Turlo’s words, and reply.
“We have never noticed our numbers to be thinning.  Truly, this may be due to the anonymity that our masked visages provide, but I remain resolute.  In these woods must we stay.  Such is the will of Yoreb the Jowled.”

BORK
“What are you devout worshippers doing out in the woods, may I enquire?”

The defacto leader of the cultists continues to do all the talking.
“Right now we are preparing our supper.  It will be dark soon, and we beseech you to move along and leave us to our nocturnal devotions.”

Babetta, losing her patience, creeps from her hiding spot and heads back towards the emerald manse of Imandolo.  Wisk also seems most vexed, and creeps towards where the tree of Yoreb is reputed to be.

BORK (To Babetta)
“Where are you bound?  And why in such secrecy?”

The cultists look strangely at Bork, for Babetta is possessed of an uncanny stealth, and they are not aware of her presence.
“Traveler, you are seen conversing with your knee.  You may in fact be addled of mind and we ask that you take your leave before your insanity intrudes upon our devotions.”

BORK
“No, wait, there is another…”

The cultists interrupt him.
“Yes, you are possessed of two knees, like we are.  Does this second knee also speak to you?”

Meanwhile, Wisk has reached the tree that resembles Yoreb the Jowled.  Two robed cultists are applying scented oils to the tree, and chanting softly.  Upon Wists’ arrival, they stop what they are doing and grab stout wooden staves, facing him.
“Greetings, traveler.  What brings you to this tree that is most holy in the eyes of Yoreb the Jowled?”

WIST
“My desire is nothing more than to approach the tree in reverence.”

CULTISTS
“Such cannot be permitted.  Take no step closer, lest we are forced to defend this consecrated ground.”


WIST
“Ah, but you do not recognize me, I am none other than the High Priest of Yoreb the Jowled!  Now, stand aside, as I perform our lord’s bidding!”

Meanwhile, Babetta has reached the emerald manse of Imandolo.  The door is closed and locked, and she hears a strange grunting and creaking of wood from behind the tower.

Exercising patience, she soon sees Lob pushing the carriage around to the front of the tower.

BABETTA
“Lob, I would have words with your master.  Fetch him at once.”

LOB
“My lady, such is not an option for me.  My master is at work in his lab.  Were I were to disturb him, I would once again occupy a vat in the same location, to my ultimate dismay.”

BABETTA
“Hmm,, stymied.  Well, then, perform this small task, at least:  bring a message to your master for me.”

LOB
“Such a task is well within the spectrum of my duties.  Speak.”

BABETTA
“I would like to speak to Imandolo at his earliest convenience, in private, about a matter of some urgency.”

Lob’s eyes roll back in his head.  He scratches furiously at one of his bald spots.

LOB
“You have a secret and must speak urgently of my masters’ privates.  I shall tell him, my lady.”

Lob scurries off to the rear of the tower.  Babetta once again strikes her forehead in vexation and stomps off towards the woods.


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## Gospog (Mar 29, 2002)

*Another update!*

Turlo and Bork have finished speaking with the cultists of Yoreb the Jowled.  The cultists are most interested in cooking a stew on their fire, and putting up a small tent, so the PCs there leave in search of Babetta.

Before long, they run into Babetta, heading the opposite way.  She is in bad temper, and they sullenly fall into step behind her.
Stomping through the woods, none of them hear the stealthy movements of a Deodand in the woods beside them.  The Deodand moves stealthily to best advantage, and surprises all three PCs, seeming to simply appear from nowhere.  Crouching in front of the group, the Deodand addresses them.

DEODAND
“I hunger!  But I am not a creature bereft of reason. I could never eat you all.  Let the rest shove forward one who is not needed, and I will devour only him.”

TURLO
“Come, come!  You make an absurdly unrealistic request!”

DEODAND
“Not at all.  I merely seek to assuage my burgeoning hunger.  Push forth your supplicant and be done with it!”

BABETTA
“Your reasoning is flawed.  The three choices for supper you see before you are all armed.  Any one of us might prove a wise choice for a meal, were we alone.  As a group…I would look elsewhere for food, Deodand.”

DEODAND
“Er…you give me pause.  Still, my hunger wins in the end.  And now I shall take the toll of that hunger!”

TURLO
“Cease proceedings!  I have here a compromise in the body of this corpse.  It is yet fresh and will provide a safer repast for you than three armed travelers.”

Turlo pulls forward the dead body he borrowed form Imandolo’s stolen coffin, that he had been dragging this whole time.  The Deodand eyes it with mixed emotions.  Bork hefts his axe for added emphasis.  The Deodand winces and backs off a step.

DEODAND
“Truly, the wisdom of your compromise becomes immediately evident.  I shall dine on corpse, and thank you to leave me to my supper.”

The three travelers back off, and head off towards the tree of Yoreb the Jowled.

Meanwhile, at the tree itself, Wisk is still in negotiations with the robed and masked priests of Yoreb.

CULTIST
“You claim to be the High Priest of Yoreb.  Where are your sacred vestments?  The holy robe and thrice-anointed mask of office?  Explain this base imposture!”

WIST
“I stand before you in a disguise ordained by Yoreb himself!  He is testing you.  You must be governed not by what you perceive, but by the word of Yoreb alone.  And now his word urges you to surrender your station to me and allow me to guard the sacred tree.”

CULTIST
“Your words ring of piety, and are pleasing to the ear, but we are resolute in our compact.  We will stand guard here until our brethren arrive with our evening repast.  Stand down, whoever you are.”

Meanwhile, back the other way, Babetta has urged Bork and Turlo on ahead of her, and is loitering in the shrubs near the cultists’ camp.  Bork and Turlo proceed on towards the location of the sacred tree.  Babetta crouches low, and observes two of the cultists affixing a large iron handle to the pot of stew.  They lift the pot together (it is quite heavy) and begin to carry it towards the tree of Yoreb, the way the other PCs went.

Babetta silently exults in her good fortune.  Readying her sword, she slowly creeps up on the sole remaining cultist, whose back is turned to her.  He is one his knees, praying in the direction of the waning sun.  Babetta takes a step closer.  Babetta steps on a twig that breaks loudly.  The cultist turns around.


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## Fade (Mar 30, 2002)

Cool!


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## Horacio (Mar 30, 2002)

Good updates, good story


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## Thorntangle (Apr 1, 2002)

Great story hour, Gospog.  I might have to read Vance one day.  The flowery language delights the senses.

I hope she lays such smackery on that cultist that he soon forgets his station and indeed, his base senses


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## Pillars of Hercules (Apr 2, 2002)

*Chortle!*

I thought this was the most hilarious thing I've ever read in a Story Hour...



			
				Gospog said:
			
		

> BORK (To Babetta)
> “Where are you bound?  And why in such secrecy?”
> 
> The cultists look strangely at Bork, for Babetta is possessed of an uncanny stealth, and they are not aware of her presence.
> ...




Until I read this...



> BABETTA
> “I would like to speak to Imandolo at his earliest convenience, in private, about a matter of some urgency.”
> 
> Lob’s eyes roll back in his head.  He scratches furiously at one of his bald spots.
> ...




And this...



> BABETTA
> “Your reasoning is flawed. The three choices for supper you see before you are all armed. Any one of us might prove a wise choice for a meal, were we alone. As a group…I would look elsewhere for food, Deodand.”
> 
> DEODAND
> ...


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## Gospog (Apr 2, 2002)

*The Thrilling Conclusion!*

Thank you to everone who has posted and shown thier support.  I hope you like the end of the adventure.   Feedback always appreciated!

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Babetta freezes as the cultist is now looking directly at her.

CULTIST
“Good day, sister.   Blessings of Yoreb upon you.  What brings you to these blessed woods?”

BABETTA
“I saw you genuflected in prayer and thought to join you in your devotion.”

CULTIST
“The idea has appeal.  Kneel beside me, face the waning sun, press your face to the earth, and listen for the ululations of Yoreb’s phantasmal chorus.”

Babetta kneels beside the masked cultist.  The cultist bows his head to the ground, and resumes his prayers.  Babetta draws her sword, and with an elegant flourish, brings the pommel down on the cultists’ head.  He crumples in a heap.

Wasting no time, Babetta relieves the unconscious man of his yellow robes and mask, and ties him up.  She dumps the cultist, still out cold, in the bushes.

Back at the tree of Yoreb the Jowled, Bork and Turlo arrive to find Wisk still trying to “reason” with the cultists guarding the tree.  Bork advances on the tree, but is quickly stopped by the guardian cultists, stout staves in hand.

CULTIST
“The uninitiated may not approach the sacred tree, less those who walk with axe in hand!”

BORK
“My only intention is to pay homage to the tree and its’ holy countenance.”

CULTIST
“That is an admirable goal, but you must leave your prodigious chopping implement on the ground where you are.”

Not having a good reason to bring the axe with him (if he is supposed to be praying), Bork drops the axe and kneels before the tree.
Bork, realizing that the devotions of Yoreb are unknown to him, gets up and walks back to where his axe is, picking it up and leaning on it.

Just then, two cultists arrive, with the stew for the guards’ supper.  As they approach to the glad cries of the guards, another cultists can be seen walking behind them.  Bork raises an eyebrow.  There is something strange about the way this last cultist walks, something…feminine.

The last cultist makes a subtle gesture.  It is, of course, a well-disguised Babetta.  With the gesture, she invokes The Illusion of Vile Arthropods.  This illusion is something of a challenge for her.  In the past, she has only used this spell to create the appearance of tasps and spiders, only things that are vile and disgusting to behold.  However, her knowledge of religion assures her that the image she is creating is nothing less than nauseating…

Just behind the cultists, next to the holy tree, none other than Yoreb the Jowled appears!  His hideous jowls almost brush the ground, his skin glistens with slime.

All of the cultists drop to the ground in supplication.  Babetta, concentrating on this difficult glamor, almost forgets to do the same, but then drops as well.  Bork, Turlo and Wisk do not forget!  Thinking that Yoreb walks among them, they drop to their knees as well.

YOREB(illusion)
“Ah, my servants.  It is gratifying on the extreme to stand here and see the obvious extent of your devotion!  I am here, for I have tasks that I require you to perform!”

Not wanting to miss this chance to see their deity in the “flesh”, one of the cultists looks up, and cannot help but point out an irregularity.

CULTIST
“Mighty Yoreb, highest of the high, why is it your belt of scintillating flesh is hung with medallions of silver and not of gold?”

BABETTA
“Oops.”

YOREB(illusion)
“Silence!  You dare to question my choice of dress?  How dare you display such blatant heresy!”

The cultist is cowed, but the two cultists nearest Babetta head a woman’s’ voice issue from behind her mask.  There are no female cultists, as far as they know.  Babetta sees them staring and wracks her brain looking for a way out.  Suddenly, another of the guardian cultists speaks up.

CULTIST
“Oh, magnificent Yoreb, who is the light of our lives and our redeemer, I would never dare to criticize your wardrobe, nor even comment on it, as it is ripe with divine potency.  But…I must ask.  I grovel at your feet, and must ask…where is the bifurcating toe of Yoreb, that is, up till now, to be found on your left foot?”

The wooden mask hides’ Babetta’s look of shock, and then it hides her cunning smile.

YOREB(illusion)
“Look behind you, to the cultist farthest from me.  It is due to his efforts that I am now whole.  Unfortunately, the very essence of his manhood was drained away in the process, giving him the aspect of a woman!  But his sacrifice was not in vain.  The toe is healed!”

CULTISTS
“The toe is healed!!!”
“The toe is healed!!!”
“The toe is healed!!!”

BORK,TURLO and WISK
“The toe is healed!!!”
“The toe is healed!!!”

YOREB(illusion)
“And now, my children, I must tell you of the task set before you.  My newly female worshipper shall assist me.”

Babetta gets up and finds an acorn on the ground, handing it to one of the cultists.

YOREB(illusion)
“You, my faithful, are to take this acorn, which is sacred in my sight, and travel far, far to the east.  Travel for no less than three days.  When you have found the perfect spot, and you will know when you do, you are to plant this acorn, which will grow into a new tree in my divine image!  Stay there, tend to this tree, and I will visit you anon, to judge who among you has been truly devout in his worship.  Now go!”

The cultists start to head east, but Yoreb chastises them, reminding them that they may not rise to their feet in his presence.  The cultists crawl on their hands and knees, into the darkening woods.  Soon they are out of sight.

Wasting no time, Bork hefts his axe and makes short work of the tree.  He then begins to cut the tree into very small pices.  Turlo produces a match-stick, and sets the whole thing ablaze.

Babetta and Wisk see the bright fire in the darkening woods, and immediately start running back to the emerald manse.  Bork and Turlo scramble to catch up.

Soon, it becomes apparent that they do not run in vain.  Several Deodands pursue them, barely visible in the gloom.  The Deodands are faster than ther PCs, and hungry, and are gaining quickly.  All of the companions breathe a sigh of relief when the emerald manse comes into view.  The pursuing Deodands stop short at the green glow that emanates from the tower.  Lob is there, along with the carriage that the PCs have been sent to retrieve.  A quick look at the carriage reveals that it has no horses hitched to it.  It has no animals hitched to it at all!

Smiling, Lob gestures grandly at the carriage, clearly pleased with himself for how fastidiously clean it appears.

LOB
“Your carriage, my friends.  Hurry, the emerald barrier will not preclude the entrance of the Deodands for long.  And while I, as property of Imandolo, am in no danger of being attacked, you can hardly say the same.”

BABETTA
“Lob, make haste, hitch up strong horses so that we may be on our way with speed!  The Tree of Yoreb the jowled is no more!”

LOB
“My lady, you make a flagrantly unreasonable request.  My master was quite clear.  Your hard work has earned you the carriage and nothing more.  Of course, there are two strong mermelants out back, but I could never hitch them to this carriage, for they belong to my master.  There would have to be some sort of … compensation.”

The Deodands begin to press in at the emerald barrier in the air.  They grow bolder by the minute.

DEODAND
“We are lonely.  Send one of your number to keep us company and we shall go away.  We seek only an entertaining game of cards, a little conversation.  Come, send us a guest.”

The PCs don’t dignify such talk with a response.  Their desperation is evident, however, as they turn to Lob.

BABETTA
“Ne your price, Lob, and name it with unapparelled haste.”

Lob points at Turlo.

LOB
“I do not proclaim to be ambitios in station, but it occurs to me that your fine garments would be very becoming a servant of the Great Imandolo.”

TURLO
“You have partaken one too many times of the vapors in your masters’ workshop!  My clothes are my own.  Take her clothes!  She is the one dealing with you, not I.”

LOB
“But, sir, she is a woman, and sleight of frame.  You, however, are about my size.  Of course, I could wait for the Deodands to do my shopping for me.  I can wash bloodstains out of your fine clothes with ease.”

Turlo disrobes while Lob hitches up two cantankerous Mermelants.  The mermelants refuse to budge until certain matters are resolved.

MERMELANT
“A switch in grooms does not nesscesitate a change in contract.  For services rendered, one pint of beer, per groom, per day, must be rendered in full.”

The PCs agree in full to the mermelants’ terms.  The carriage shoots off into the dark woods, leaving the running Deodands far behind.

BORK
“A close call.  Turlo, I see you’ve opted for nudity rather than risk the infested garments of Lob.  I cannot, in all candor, blame you.  And now to Burske, to return this carriage.”

WISK
“Bah!  The concept is jejune.  We now control the carriage, and there is not one among us who wishes to return to Burske!  Turlo, turn the mermelants towards Almery, and do not slow until we get there!”

The companions are in agreement, though they do spend a few minutes convincing the mermelants that the ale in Almery is far superior to that of Burske.  That being settled, they rolled on, following the cold, dark roads of the Dying Earth.

*The End*


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## Fade (Apr 3, 2002)

You do mean the end of the adventure don't you, not the end of the campaign?

You should have learned from the example of Wulf. Once a story hour writer has started, he is forevermore doomed to writing, for his fans will not let him cease


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## Gospog (Apr 3, 2002)

Fans?  Now that's a scary concept!  

Seriously, I plan on running Dying Earth again some time, but I'm not sure when.  I've got too many other RPG projects running right now, including a D&D campaign that is 10 months old and running strong!  And when I do run DE again, it just may be at Rhialto level!

That being said, would any of you be interested in reading Story Hours about games other than Dying Earth?  I realise the pettifoggery of Vance makes for an interesting read, but I promise to deliver good stories, and there isn't a single game we've ever played where we haven't all broke down laughing.

So...hopefully if you happen to see my name next to a story hour that is't Dying Earth, please take a look.  You won't be dissapointed.

Once again, thanks for all of the support, I consider my first Story Hour to have been a success!
(Special thanks to Dr. N...you rule!)

Take Care.

Tom


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## drnuncheon (Apr 3, 2002)

Gospog said:
			
		

> *That being said, would any of you be interested in reading Story Hours about games other than Dying Earth?  I realise the pettifoggery of Vance makes for an interesting read, but I promise to deliver good stories, and there isn't a single game we've ever played where we haven't all broke down laughing.
> *




(snicker)

"Be careful or they'll get you..."

Darn you Tom, now I have to go buy the Dying Earth RPG.  As if there wasn't enough other stuff on my list this month. Freeport, Exalted: Dragon-Blooded, Dragonstar Galaxy Guide (assuming it comes out), Armies of the Abyss...

I guess that overtime wll come in handy!



> *
> So...hopefully if you happen to see my name next to a story hour that is't Dying Earth, please take a look.  You won't be dissapointed.
> 
> Once again, thanks for all of the support, I consider my first Story Hour to have been a success!
> ...




More Story Hour!  How about that Pulp Heroes RPG you were talking about?

And folks, if he hasn't dne anything more by the next time I make my way back to MA, I'll force him to run something and post. 

Even if it's the *Pokemon Adventure Game*.

J
...is that a threat or a promise?


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## Gospog (Apr 3, 2002)

I'll have you know that Mrs Gospog has run several very successful games of the Pokemon RPG!

Hmmm, wasn't this a Story Hour at one point?  

Seriously, though, yes, pick up Dying Earth, it kicks ass!  That applies to everyone, not just Dr. N!


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## Fade (Apr 6, 2002)

More people need to see this.


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## drnuncheon (Apr 7, 2002)

Pelgrane Press has you to thank for my money - I wen tout and grabbed a copy of this today.  Now I just need to get the Mrs. to actually read the Dying Earth books so she will want to play as well...

If anyone else out there is a fan of the books, the game will not disappoint - it captures the feel of _Eyes of the Overworld_ and _Cugel the Clever_ almost perfectly.

If you haven't read the books - why not? Find out why D&D has the bizarre magic system that it does...

J


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## Gospog (Apr 7, 2002)

Dr. N, you can totally enjoy the game without ever having read the stories!

Of my four players, three had never read any Vance before, and my wife had read maybe 50 pages of "Eyes of the Overworld" (she has since finished it).

The trick is to dispense Tag Lines with a lavish hand.  The Tag Lines help non-Vance readers get into the spirit of the pettifoggery and duplicity, as my story hour shows.

In my game, we stopped between scenes to "refill" Tag Line pools.  It worked great.  Were my players to suddenly read a ton of Vance and dispense convoluted verbal gymnastics at will, then the number of Tag Lines distributed would decrease.

Go on, give it a shot!  Stuck for an adventure?  The Excellent Prismatic Spray Issue One is free online and has TWO adventures.  Go to www.dyingearth.com.

Incidnetally,  I just subscribed to XPS.  Yay!

Again, thanks to everyone for reading and posting.

Tom
"Gookin, why do you lie among the cheeses?"


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## mmadsen (May 18, 2002)

I thought I'd "bump" this wonderful Story Hour by posting a link to a Dying Earth discussion on the main board.


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