# X-PATH: Stick Your Citadel Where the Sun Don't Shine (Complete 5 Aug 2004)



## Capellan (Apr 15, 2004)

*Prologue*
Jacobsen shivered.

He tried to tell himself it was the cold.  This far down in the basement levels, the only heat came from the bare fluorescent lights in the concrete ceiling.  The General preferred it like that.  But then the old bastard didn't feel it any more, did he?

The General.  Like it or not, there was the real reason for the shiver.  He was _not_ going to be pleased with the younger man's news.

Jacobsen hurried along the plain, white-washed corridor, the scuff of his patent leather soles sounding loud in the silence of Basement 7.

The huge, stainless steel door at the end of the corridor swung open as he approached it.  He swallowed, trying not to let his anxiety show in his face.  Straight in with no wait meant the General was impatient.

The room beyond the door was almost as bare as the corridor that preceded it.  The only item of furniture was the vast, stainless steel desk, its surface studded with dozens of video screens.  Every screen flickered with life, all 37 channels of GPE programming playing simultaneously.

Jacobsen hated that desk.  The constant flicker of images drew the eye, distracted the mind.  The old man knew it, and used it.  Another weapon in his arsenal.

"Jacobsen.  What do you have to report?"

As if the old man didn't already know.

"There's a problem with the prize for next month's WCX pay-per-view, GS." He took a little pride that he'd kept the tremor out of his voice.

"Yes, so you told me in your last visit." There was a soft whir of gears as the old man descended from the ceiling.  He sat in a cast iron chair - he'd owned it during the war, they said - his gnarled, bone-white hands clutching the arm rests.  Jacobsen had never seen the old man lift those hands, but he'd heard the stories.  "You said the matter was 'under control'."

He swallowed.

"I thought it was.  The team of negotiators has never failed me, before."

"Never send a diplomat to do a soldier's job.  That was Eisenhower's problem: he kept trying to be one when he should have been the other."

"Yessir." Despite the cold, Jacobsen could feel himself sweating. "But we've had a good working relationship with this tribe for several years, now.  I thought that negotiation -"

"We had a good working relationship with Joe Stalin, too." The old man spat the name, "Didn't change the fact that he was a son-of-a-bitch."

"No sir." The first thing you learned at GPE: _never_ argue about the reds.  Not that Jacobsen had any intention of doing so, "He was a commie bastard, sir."

"Don't patronise me, Jacobsen." The voice turned cold, "Not when you've come lookin' for me to pull your stones out of the fire."

"Yessir.  You have a suggestion, sir?"

"Seems to me like this tribe of yours needs to be a taught a lesson.  The kind of lesson that ass Montgomery learned at Arnhem.  Don't get greedy."

"Yessir."

"WCX players have to abide by certain rules.  Sometimes, an athlete comes along who has all the skills to go to the top, but who can't stick to those rules."

"Sir?"

"I'm sure you have a few people like that on your books, Jacobsen.  People who are a danger to themselves and their fellow athletes.  People who are a drain on our profits.  People who are _expendable_."

"Yes, sir.  I can think of a few."

"Kit them out, open a gate, and send them through.  Tell 'em to teach these little bastards a lesson they'll never forget.  And tell them to bring back that - what is it they're supposed to get?"

"A golden apple, sir.  It has magical healing qualities."

The old man snorted,

"Stupidest thing I've heard since Market Garden.  Tell them to bring back that apple.  And Jacobsen -"

"Yessir?"

"Send a camera.  We may not be able to broadcast this, but I want to know exactly what happens."

"Yes sir, I will sir."

"You'd better.  Because if you _don't_ teach those freaky little bastards that nobody messes with George Patton, then I might have to teach _you_."


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## robberbaron (Apr 15, 2004)

Oh my.
This one is going to be good. I can feel it in my bones.

Sitting on edge of seat with anticipation.


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## tmart (Apr 15, 2004)

Capellan said:
			
		

> Stupidest thing I've heard since Market Garden.




Hilarious. More!


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## caixa (Apr 15, 2004)

Capellan said:
			
		

> *Prologue*
> 
> 
> "We had a good working relationship with Joe Stalin, too." The old man spat the name, "Didn't change the fact that he was a son-of-a-bitch."
> ...


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## Capellan (Apr 15, 2004)

On the advice of GPE's legal department, I'd like to make a disclaimer.

Any similarity to persons real or fictional, living or dead, is purely coincidental.  Unless we're taking the mickey out of you, in which case it's parody and therefore allowed.  So nyah.  Furthermore, certain aspects of this entertainment programme may cause offence if you are: socialist, communist, Greek, a historian, Mormon, Catholic, Pagan, vaguely religious in any way, shape or form, agnostic, atheist, homosexual, heterosexual, bisexual, transsexual, asexual.  It may also offend those whose skin is of any colour whatsoever, including pink.  Persons who have been flayed should be fine, though they should stay away from salt.  Males and females may both find certain scenes objectionable.  Studies show that you may also become distressed if you are pregnant, menopausal, or just plain cranky.  If you're a fan of Elvis, watch out.  Fans of Meepo are in trouble, too.  Come to think of it: if there's anything in the world you like, dislike, or aren't really bothered about, expect us to do something to upset you.  Face toward enemy, do not eat contents, product may contain nuts.


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## spyscribe (Apr 15, 2004)

Best story hour title.  Ever.


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## arwink (Apr 16, 2004)

Rock and Roll


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## Sniktch (Apr 16, 2004)

Very nice, Capellan - can't wait to see where you go with this one


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## Enkhidu (Apr 16, 2004)

X-Crawl meets the adventure path? Let me go get the popcorn.


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## ledded (Apr 16, 2004)

Oh. Hell.  Yeah.


This one looks to be a good time.

Color me subscribed, man.  I *loved* the Market Garden/Joe Stalin comments.  Classic.


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## The Shadow (Apr 18, 2004)

Capellan said:
			
		

> On the advice of GPE's legal department, I'd like to make a disclaimer.
> 
> Any similarity to persons real of fictional, living or dead, is purely coincidental.  Unless we're taking the mickey out of you, in which case it's parody and therefore allowed.  So nyah.  Furthermore, certain aspects of this entertainment programme may cause offence if you are: socialist, communist, Greek, a historian, Mormon, Catholic, Pagan, vaguely religious in any way, shape or form, agnostic, atheist, homosexual, heterosexual, bisexual, transsexual, asexual.  It may also offend those whose skin is of any colour whatsoever, including pink.  Persons who have been flayed should be fine, though they should stay away from salt.  Males and females may both find certain scenes objectionable.  Studies show that you may also become distressed if you are pregnant, menopausal, or just plain cranky.  If you're a fan of Elvis, watch out.  Fans of Meepo are in trouble, too.  Come to think of it: if there's anything in the world you like, dislike, or aren't really bothered about, expect us to do something to upset you.  Face toward enemy, do not eat contents, product may contain nuts.




Do not taunt this Story Hour. 

The Patton business blindsided and intrigued me.  Well done!


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## Capellan (Apr 22, 2004)

*Internal Memorandum*

*From:*  Head Office
*To:*  WCX Payroll

*Subject:*  WCX-1982-SC01: Personnel 


Personnel assigned to this operation are listed below.


_Joseph Isaiah Smith_
Payroll Scale: PAL1
Payroll Status: suspended after attempt to proselytise the Church of the Latter Day Saints to General Patton
Mission Status: active


_Floyd of the Church of the King_
Payroll Scale: CLR1
Payroll Status: suspended due to inability to maintain approved WCX dietary regimen
Mission Status: active


_Fabulous Fabio_
Payroll Scale: BRD1
Payroll Status: suspended for theft from make-up and costumes department
Mission Status: active


_Simon 'the Super-Ninja'_
Payroll Scale: ROG1
Payroll Status: suspended due to chronic absenteeism
Mission Status: called in sick


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## Sniktch (Apr 22, 2004)

You tease - here I was expecting some more story to read  Still can't wait to see where this is headed


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## Capellan (Apr 23, 2004)

*1: First Blood*

"It's been three days, Jacobsen."

"To be fair, sir, the water elemental was a very tough opponent; it's well beyond the expected deviation on the danger analysis."

"Three days." The old man repeated, with a dismissive snort, "Three days, and they've searched all of three rooms.  At this rate, it'll be up to their kids to finish the job.  That damn Mormon's spent more time on his back than the girls in Paris."

"They're on the move again now, sir." Jacobsen tried to keep both his nervousness and his irritation out of his voice.  Either would set off the old man, like blood for a shark. "I'm sure things will pick up from here."

* * * 

Joseph Isaiah Smith felt he was generally a patient soul.  The good book said to turn the other cheek, after all.  Naturally such advice didn't apply in the case of Communists and other atheists, but he was a tolerant man, always willing to give the other fellow the benefit of the doubt.

He sighed.  Three days in this God-forsaken place was enough to try even the patience of a Latter Day Saint.

"Now, don't be so down-hearted." Floyd slicked back his thick mane of black hair, "You look as mournful as a hound dog.  Cheeseburger?"

Smith took the greasy, polystyrene-packaged patty with reluctance.  His third wife had packed him a wholesome lunch for the mission, but that had run out over 24 hours earlier.

"Do you have any of that beverage?"

"Cherry Coke?  Well, uh huh, yeah." Floyd gestured, and a garish red and black paper cup appeared in his hand.

Smith choked down the cheesebuger, doing his best to ignore the 'Fabulous' Fabio as the other man oiled down his hairless chest.  God, Smith felt, had not intended a man's body to be 'smooth as a baby's bottom', however much Fabio might like it that way.

"Are you ready to continue?" he turned his attention back to Floyd.  The man's over-stretched silver rhinestone outfit was barely less disturbing than Fabio's chest, but barely was something.

"Uh huh.  Me and mah baby are ready to go." Floyd slapped his golden guitar beside him, leaving a smear of jam upon it.

"Then let us go forth." Smith straightened his tie, checked the creases of his white, short-sleeved shirt, and shouldered his shotgun. "It's time to do the Lord's work."

* * * 

It had not been a good week for Meepo, Keeper of Calcyrx, the Dragon.

_Ex_-Keeper of Calcryx.

The kobold snuffled, then banged his head a few times on the thin pillow in his bed.  Ex-Keeper.  Failure.  Scorned by the clan.

"Meepo was Keeper." He whined to himself in Draconic, "Meepo Big Man in Dungeon.  Second only to Yusdrayl.  But no, not any more." he banged his head a few more times. "Now Meepo low as dung, and hated by all in clan.  Meepo fertilise no eggs, now." He wrapped himself in a ball, rocking slowly back and forth, "If only there some way to get back Calcryx, then Meepo be important again."

_Thud.  Thud.  Thud._

The heavy foot-steps - booted feet, almost slammed down on the stone floor - broke into the kobold's reverie.  A dark, menacing shape loomed over him, many times his own size.

"Waaaaah!  Intruders!" Meepio leapt to his feet and raced for the exit.  "Brave Meepo warn tribe!  Intruders!  Clever Meepo too fast for big slow people!"

_*BOOM.*_

"Waaaaah!" Meepo screamed again, pumping his legs even faster.  The intruders had magic, like Yusdrayl.

But he was too fast for them, he -

Confusion registered in Meepo's tiny brain.  Why was he about to run into a wall?  He tried to stop, but he kept on racing straight toward it, faster and faster.

No, not a wall.  The floor.  Why was the floor there?  Why wouldn't his legs work?  Meepo was fastest there was ...

* * *

"I said to stop it, not kill it." Smith sighed.

"Ah _tried_." Floyd pointed at the dying reptilian creature as it spasmed on the stone floor. "Ah hit it right in the knee cap.  Ah didn't know its whole leg would come off."

"You shot it with a Magnum 44."

"This little thing?" Floyd waved the gun experimentally, "This'd barely put a dint in a road sign, back home."

"Talkative little fellow, wasn't he?" Smith remarked, as the creature finally stilled, "Any idea what he was talking about?"

"Couldn't have been anythin' important."

* * * 

"Now that's more like it."

"They did handle it well, didn't they, General?"

"Hell, no.  Sloppy shooting, that." the old man turned flat, black eyes on Jacobsen, "I'm talkin' about the creepy little critter.  Did you see the way it squealed?  That's ratings gold."

* * * 

Smith jerked up his head.

"We got company."

A door burst inward, and another of the small, reptile-like creatures charged into the room.  Unlike the last, it actually carried a small, crudely fashioned weapon.

"The Lord loves all his creations." Smith assured it, right before twin barrels of buckshot spattered most of the creature's torso across the wall.  "Fragile, aren't they?"

"Like ah said." Floyd reminded him.

Five more of the creatures raced toward the three men, hurling rocks and spears as they charged.

"This camera keeps shooting me from my bad side." Fabio complained, as a slug from his pistol shattered the skull of the leading creature.

"Is that the side that's covered in blood?" Floyd swore as one of the spears glanced off his thigh, "Now that was right un-neighbourly."  Lifting his golden guitar, he twisted the neck, and a curved metal blade sprang out of the side.

"You must be very careful when you play that."

"Ah assure you, son, that Little Floyd is always on mah mind."

The fight devolved into a tight and vicious melee, with the smaller reptilians trying to get under the longer reach of their enemies, stabbing at thighs and stomachs and groins.

"Onward Christian Soldiers ..." Smith slammed his pick into the eye of one of the creatures, "... marching as to war ..."

"You have a fine voice, Mr Smith!" Floyd cut a swathe through the enemy with his musical axe, "Do y'all know GI Blues?"

Fabio said nothing; he simply hogged all the best lighting.


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## Sniktch (Apr 23, 2004)

Bwahahaha!  Love the Meepo bit - that's ratings gold  Now people at work are looking at me funny and I can't begin to explain...


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## robberbaron (Apr 23, 2004)

Capellan "That damn Mormon's spent more time on his back than the girls in Paris."[/QUOTE said:
			
		

> Laugh, I thought I'd burst!
> Keep it coming.


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## ledded (Apr 23, 2004)

Oh man, this is just great.

This is one of the most interesting SH's I've seen in a long time, please keep posting.

Ratings.  Freakin'.  Gold.


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## Graywolf-ELM (Apr 23, 2004)

Normally not the kind of game/story I'd be interested in, but dang'ed if it didn't pull me in.  What kind of rules are you using for play?  Is this a different, or just technologically advanced world?  Too many questions to ask at this point, I'm gonna go tell my group to read this.

GW


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## Dungannon (Apr 28, 2004)

Ooooh, consider this subscribed.  Too much goodness to quote here.


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## Dungannon (Apr 28, 2004)

Darn double posts.


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## Capellan (Apr 29, 2004)

*2: New Blood*

Beverly Hills-Hilton, heiress to a fortune and WCX summer intern, breezed into Gate Room 4 in a swirl of miniskirt and a snapping of gum.

"I got a delivery." She displayed the Zippo lighter she was carrying in her best wannabe-supermodel style.

The Technician glanced up from his work.  It took a very long time for his gaze to rise as far as her ultra-short miniskirt, and it never did quite reach her eyes.

"What's the mission number?" he managed, at last.

"Uh ..." Beverly frowned, then brightened as she remembered the slip of paper in her other hand, "Yeah, it's like WCX-1982-SC01."

"Put the object in the gate area." By rights, the Technician should have done this himself, but every time the girl moved, her skirt bounced up just that little bit higher ... and well, he wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

"Okay." Beverly did as he asked, then flounced out in a haze of flowery perfume.  Just as the door closed behind her, however, she snapped her fingers and dashed back inside, "Shih Tzu puppies!  You have to sign this form before you can send -"

*FZAT*.

Suddenly, Beverly Hills-Hilton, heiress and intern, found herself standing in a smelly old stone room, with three dirty, blood-spattered men pointing guns at her pretty little head.

* * * 

"Jacobsen, who is that girl and what is she doing in this mission?"

"She's ..." Jacobsen paused and swallowed nervously, "She's one of our interns, sir.  Gate Room 4 report she came in to make a delivery to the team, left, then suddenly ran back in just as they were sending the item.  It's Miss Hills-Hilton, sir."

"The heiress?"

"Yes, General.  Gate Room 4 is making immediate calculations to bring her back, sir."

"Hell, boy.  Don't do that." Patton's corpse-cold fingers drummed on the metal surface of his desk, "She'll go running straight to her father's lawyers."

"Surely we can't just leave her there, sir?  What if she's hurt?"

"Stall for a few hours." Patton's eyes narrowed, "Tell them we have no record of her on the mission logs, and therefore she's not our responsibility to return.  Then, contact Documents and tell them to find Ms Hills-Hilton's WCX Performer's Contract."

"But she doesn't have -"

"Tell them to find it, Jacobsen." The General's voice grew sharp. "No matter _what_ they have to do."

"Ah ..." light dawned, "I'll get right on it, sir."

* * *

*Internal Memorandum

From:*  Head Office
*To:*  WCX Payroll

*Subject:*  WCX-1982-SC01:  Personnel 


Additional personnel assigned to this operation are listed below.


_Beverly Hills-Hilton_
Payroll Scale: SOR1
Payroll Status: active
Mission Status: active

* * *

"I do not care for this young woman.  Her attire and language are most indecent."

"I ain't exactly her greatest fan, either." Floyd consoled Smith, "But we're stuck with her, and Fabio don't seem too displeased.  We'll leave him to baby-sit her."

"I have big muscles." Fabio announced.  Floyd rolled his eyes,

"With luck, they'll get themselves both killed."

* * *

After a brief discussion, the small group took an exit from the room that doubled-back in the same direction as the one through which they had entered.

"This way there won't be no-one sneakin' up behind to make us squeal like piggies." Floyd reasoned.

Beverly went first, Smith insisting that she stay where he could watch for signs of her no-doubt imminent sinfulness.  They passed along a corridor and through an empty room, to a second chamber with a large, dried-up fountain.

"There's some writing here." Smith scraped the scum away from the base of the bowl, "Some kind of infernal tongue.  I can't read it."

"Camera." Floyd indicated the plaque, "Photograph that and print us a copy, thankyaverramuch."  As they waited for the little machine to chatter out a dot matrix representation of the text, he explained, "Maybe we all will find someone in this place as can read it for us."

* * *

They pushed on, coming to a junction.  Seeing at least half a dozen-doors straight ahead, they turned left, into another chamber, with only two further doors to choose from.

"This one's got more of that funky writin' on it." Floyd observed.  Smith inspected it suspiciously,

"Probably the best way to go then.  Try opening it."

As soon as Floyd touched the door, a gleaming scythe swung out, narrowly missing his kiss-curl of hair.

"Seems they're a might unfriendly." He pulled a crowbar out of his blue suede backpack, "This ought to get her open."

The scythe scythed again, as scythes are wont to do.  The crowbar spun across the room, and Floyd nursed stinging fingers.

"Let's try the other way." He said, at last.

* * * 

Grishtag and Frokzok lounged against the barricade, swapping dirty stories and laughing about the puny kobolds.

"They's nothin' without that Dragon." Grishtag prophesied, "We'll kills 'em all, now.  Da Boss will see to it."

"Yeah." Frokzok said, agreeably.

Suddenly, the door at the opposite end of the caltrop-strewn corridor burst open, revealing a tall, armour-clad form.

"_Yah!_" Grishtag ducked behind the barricade, snatched up a javelin, and hurled it in a wobbly arc toward the figure. "Stinky human!  Come get us if you dare!  We kill you and put you in pot!"

"Yeah."

The human threw something - an egg? - at the goblins.  Grishtag ducked, but he need not have bothered.  The throw was poor, and the egg bounced back off the barricade and detonated in a spray of white fire.  The barricade held, though patches began to burn.

"Dey got wizards!  You get de others, quick!"

"Yeah."

As Frokzok ran to warn the rest of the guards, Grishtag ducked again as the humans started using their strange wands to attack him.  They made lots of noise, and several splinters burst off the barricade.

"Human magic is puny!"

"Yeah."

Frokzok was back with the others, and the goblins now took turns hurling their stock of javelins at the intruders.  The female human, too tall and pasty for goblin beauty, gave a shriek as one of the javelins gouged her arm.  The first human disappeared, running away from the fight.

"We gots 'em now, boys!"

"Yeah."

* * *

Snatching up the crowbar, Smith leapt to the door by which they'd entered, wrenching it from its hinges.  Then he quickly manhandled it over to the caltrop-strewn doorway.

Holding one end in the air, he dropped the other to the ground, and charged forward, pushing the door as he went.  Caltrops bounced off the hard wood, or dug in their spikes, but either way, the impromptu ram swept them aside, clearing a path to the barricade.

The door shuddered twice as javelins struck it, but Smith ignored them, pounding on until he was just a few feet from the barricade.  Then, he heaved upwards, pushing the door through an arc that slammed the end he had been holding onto the top of the wall.

Floyd ran straight up this impromptu ramp, firing his heavy pistol as he came, but without effect.

"Get down!" Smith yelled, and gently lobbed one of his phosphorous grenades over the barricade.


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## Dungannon (Apr 29, 2004)

Question, Cap.  Are you making this up or is this from an actual game session?


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## Sniktch (Apr 29, 2004)

He plays with Khynal and Arwink and Yip, among others - do you really think he needs to make it all up?


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## Capellan (Apr 29, 2004)

It's an actual game session (actually, it's half a session).  The scenes with Patton are the only things that don't happen 'at the table'.  You also get the advantage of the NPC viewpoint: something the PCs rarely seem terribly interested in learning


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## Dungannon (Apr 30, 2004)

Okay, then my guess is Arwink is playing Floyd or Beverly.


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## Capellan (May 5, 2004)

*3: Backlash: it's not just a Pay-Per-View*

"Now that's what I call entertainment!  Did you see the way those little bastards ran around screamin' and trying to put themselves out?"

"Yes sir.  It was ratings gold, sir."

"Maybe if these boys don't get 'emselves killed, I'll give 'em another go in the league."

* * *

"There's another barricade in the next room." Beverly reported.  She'd been sent ahead to scout while the men looted every last coin from the dead goblins. "And lots of doors."

"Maybe this will open one of them." Floyd brandished the iron key he'd found on the last of the bodies.

Entering the next chamber, they found a primitive archery - or rather, javelin - range, the barricade Beverly had mentioned, and three doors leading further into the complex.

"Let's start with this one." Smith indicated the only one of the doors to be on the same side of the barricade as the group. "What's over the wall?"

"A camp fire, not much else." Fabio peered over the four foot high barricade.

"Looks like they expected trouble from our direction." Floyd mused, "Maybe they don't like the other little critters we killed, either." He shrugged, "That's a matter for another time.  Let's see about that door."

After two abject failures to force the iron-bound door, Smith remembered the key they'd found.  Floyd tried it in the lock, and the door opened, revealing a squalid prison, containing three chained-up reptile creatures and a short, human-like creature with a large nose.

* * *

Erky jumped to his feet as the four humans entered the prison.  They were strangely dressed, but surely they would help a gnome escape from goblins.

"Please let me out!" he called, in the common tongue.

One of the four, his attention on the kobolds, spoke angrily in a foreign language, gesturing at Erky with the strange implement in his hands.  The bare-chested pretty-boy beside him translated.

"Joe says to shut up."

Erky began to protest, but the first human grew more irate.

"It would be wise to keep silent." The one who could speak a civilised tongue continued, "My minions are somewhat unpredictable."

The gnome subsided, watching as the other two male humans jammed a picture of some kind in the first kobold's face, and started shouting at it in their strange tongue.

* * *

"Tell.  Me.  What. This.  Says." Smith repeated the demand for the fifth time, speaking even louder and clearer than he had on the four previous occasions.  The last reptile quailed before him, it's spindly arms spattered with the blood of its two companions, but it answered only in its own nonsense tongue.

"This is your _last_ chance.  Tell.  Me.  What. This.  Says."

More jabbering.

_*BLAM.*_

Floyd reloaded his pistol, shaking his head,

"Waste of ammunition, really." He muttered, "Can you believe not a one of 'em spoke English?"

* * *

"He says he can read it for us." Fabio gestured at the tiny humanoid, cringing in the cage at the back of the prison, "But he'll need at least the night to do the translation."

Smith snorted,

"Can we trust him?  He's got a nose like Pinocchio."

"Let's give him until morning." Floyd shrugged, "We could do with a rest after that fight, and ah want to know what it says."

* * *

They set up camp in the javelin range.  Initially, they left the miniature human in the prison, but then they realised he had no light in there, which would make reading difficult.

"We'll have to bring him out." Smith decided.  Floyd nodded agreement,

"But one of us should keep an eye on him at all times, make sure he don't run off."

At first, the time passed uneventfully, but after several hours, while Floyd sat strumming his golden guitar, there came the sound of one of the other doors swinging shut.

"Damn." Floyd began to wake the others, "One of those sneaky little fellers musta snuck in and seen us.  We got trouble comin'.  Stick the little guy back in the prison and get ready fer a fight."

* * *

By now, Patton had turned off the monitors on his desk, and transferred the images from the mission onto the giant screen in his wall.

"Brave, but dumb as posts." He nodded approvingly, "These boys would make good soldiers.  'course, it's gonna get 'em killed, here."

"Sir?"

"Tactics, Jacobsen." A long, bone-like finger pointed at the screen, "They've got a wall to defend, and they've moved those caltrops in front of it  That's good enough, as far as it goes.  But they don't know if their backs are secure, and they don't know for sure what's coming.  They should've attacked when their position was discovered." He paused, "Of course, restin' in the enemy's guard room wasn't real bright, in the first place."

On screen, all hell broke loose.

Both doors on the far side of the barricade flew open, revealing over a dozen goblins, as well as several larger humanoids, and a strange, twig-like creature about as tall as a man's waist.

* * *

"Here they come!" Floyd yelled, hurling his one and only fragmentation grenade into the midst of the enemy.  Four of the smaller creatures were blasted apart by the shrapnel, but the wooden creature raced forward over the caltrops, easily reaching the wall.  Behind it, more of small humanoids entered, pushing aside the caltrops as they came.

The room became filled with the shouts of combat, and the flash of guns and grenades.  The enemy surged forward to the wall.  The caltrops slowed them a little, but the distance from the door to the barricade was simply too short to defend.

Two of the larger humanoids came up to support the wood creature, and the battle became a melee.  For a moment, it seemed as if the four humans would hold, but then blood sprayed from fresh wounds, and Fabio and Floyd both fell.  The twig creature scrambled into the hole in their line, tearing at Smith as it came.

"Grab Fabio and fall back!" the Mormon shouted at Beverly, scooping up Floyd as he spoke.  The creature clawed at him again, but he shrugged off the injury, hauling the unconscious man through the doorway into the next room. "Get in here and close the door!"

Beverly tried, hauling Fabio's body despite the damage to her nails, but she simply wasn't quick enough, and the twig creature leapt through the doorway before she could close it.

Fortunately, it leapt straight into Smith's pick-axe.

"Close the door!  Jam it with javelins!  I'm going to try and patch these two up!" Smith barked orders as he began tearing his shirt for bandages.

* * *

The door held; or at least it held long enough for them to escape, dragging their unconscious companions all the way back to the room where they fought the water beast.

Slamming the stone door behind him, Smith slumped against it with a tired sigh.

"Let's see 'em get through _that_." He muttered, grimly.

Hours slipped by, but eventually Smith's medical care restored the other two men to consciousness.  Over a celebratory meal of deep-fried peanut butter and banana sandwiches, they planned their next move.

"Grenades." Floyd stabbed the air with his finger, to drive home the point, "Lots and lots of grenades.  As many as we can get them to send.  We'll show those little bastards a thing or two, then."


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## Graywolf-ELM (May 5, 2004)

OORah  Go Marines.  or special ops, or whatever these guys are.

GW


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## arwink (May 5, 2004)

Superstars, son.  Ah think the word yah may be lookin' for is X-Path Superstar's.  None o' that army sissy stuff heyah, ah assure you.


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## robberbaron (May 6, 2004)

Thang you very much. I really mean that, I really do.

OK, more Hughie Green than Elvis, but my appreciation of the story is profound.

More, please.


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## Thomas Hobbes (May 7, 2004)

Wow.  Just... wow.


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## Capellan (May 12, 2004)

*4: Hot Times in Kobold City*

The stone door eased open slowly.

"No sign of anything waiting for us." Smith reported.  Quietly - or as quiet as you can be when one of you is in platform boots - the four moved back into the corridor.

"So which way do we all go?" Floyd asked. "Toward them scaly critters, or the lot that we messed with last time?"

"Scaly critters." Smith made his choice quickly, "We saw them first."

"Scaly ones." Fabio agreed, pointing in that direction and taking the opportunity to posture for Beverly.

Their course agreed, the group moved forward.  The room where they had previously fought the reptilian humanoids was empty of living foes, though bloodied corpses still littered the floor.

As they eased open the door to the room, a bell jangled in the distance.  Smith swore, pointing to a rope that was attached to the door handle.

"They'll be ready for us, now."

"That's okay, son." Floyd slipped on a pair of sunglasses, "Ah'm ready, too."

* * * 

Yusdrayl watched as the warriors of the tribe scrambled to respond to the alarm bell.  Six of her bounders had been lost - seven if she counted that fool, Meepo - and now the intruders returned.  Well, the Dragonfolk were ready for them, now.  They would fall, and fill the bellies of her brood.

Incanting the words of protection, the kobold matriarch encased herself in a shimmering aura of force, and moved to join the defence, her guards moving in a screen before her.

There was a shout, then a clash of steel, as the first of her people burst from hiding and attacked the fleshy intruders.  Yusdrayl smiled, moving so she could see the assault.

A pair of the humans stood athwart an intersection of two corridors.  Two of her people were already fighting them, while four more charged along the corridor as she watched.

Then a third human appeared, casting what looked like a rock toward the charging warriors.  White fire burst out, wreathing the kobolds in flame and death.  They screamed and fell, writhing in brief, agonising death.

Yusdrayl sucked breath into her snout, her yellow eyes narrowing.  These folk had magic, did they?  They would learn that the Dragonborn did, as well.

She spoke, and two shards of energy flew from her fingers to strike the man who had cast the fire.  He shouted and stepped back out of sight, limping slightly from the injury.

Seeing the man's retreat, the warriors of the tribe surged forward again, one of the bravest lancing his spear deep into his enemy's thigh.  Bright, arterial blood flowed.  Yusdrayl's nose twitched at the scent.  The injured human stumbled back, his hand falling to the injury, trying to staunch the flow of blood.  A howl rose from her people as they saw victory.

And then the lead-most warrior exploded, his body shattered by the strange metal wands held by the humans.  Another fighter seemed to lose his senses, running past the fighting men, without a thought to defend himself.  He fell, skull shattered by a blow from a pick, and the howl turned to a moan of despair.

Yusdrayl summoned her magic as fast as she could, sending blast after blast of energy against the foe.  Surely they must fall eventually.

But they did not, and her people continued to die.  One by one, they fell, until the intersection was choked with their bodies.  Yusdrayl's magic began to falter, and she switched to a less potent spell, still fighting on despite the cold certainty in her heart.  She would die this day.

"If only the accursed goblins had not stolen Calcryx -" she hissed, flinging a ray of cold at her foes. "- we would feast on your bones."

One of the humans raised his wand, and there was a noise like a dragon's roar.

* * *

"Damn, there was a lot o' those little bastards." Floyd wiped the back of his hand across his forehead, smearing half-dried blood across his skin. "Any of 'em still moving?"

"Not by themselves." Beverly kicked the corpse of the last to fall, a wizened female who had thrown magical bolts against them. "Nasty looking things." She paused and giggled, "Did you see the one I waved at?  It came running straight by you.  Stupid beast."

"Treasure." Fabio interjected, waving from the far end of the long hall.  Beverly and Floyd approached, leaving Smith to the job of collecting the creature's collection of coins.

Their long-haired companion had found a small altar, on which sat a number of items.

"Well, lookee here." Floyd picked up an old iron key.  Under a slight tarnish of rust, a carved dragon's head could be seen on the handle.

"What about it?" Beverly wrinkled her nose, "It's dirty."

"Before y'all came here, there were a door we found as we couldn't open.  Had a dragon on it.  Ah'd say we all just found the key." Floyd tucked the item away, as well as the other objects on the altar. "Let's check what else we can find in these parts, then head back there."

* * *

"Oh yes." The goblin prisoner gabbled in broken Common, nervously cringing away from the corpse of the creature beside it, "Very interested learn Book of Mormon.  Book of Mormon very good."

"I knew these translations of the Book would come in handy." Smith smiled in satisfaction.

"Do you really believe it?" Beverly looked up from filing her nails, "I mean, you just killed its friends.  It's hardly likely to say 'no'."

"God will punish his transgression if he lies."

"Right." The young blonde rolled her eyes and yawned, "Look, can we get on with this?  I'm bored."

Handing his new convert a leather-bound copy of the Book of Mormon, Smith led the way out of the jail room, back into the main kobold hall.

"So, one goblin you shot in the head, one you pushed into a pit trap, and one that managed to run off." Beverly mused, twirling a finger in her hair, "How do you think this one will die?"

"Runnin' away." Floyd tapped his pistol.

"He's a member of the brethren." Smith insisted, "We must trust him."

"Trust _that_?" Beverly sniffed, "I don't even trust _you_, Mr Skanky I've-Got-Four-Wives."


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## Capellan (May 21, 2004)

*5: An IMPolite Reception*

Fabio kicked open the door.

Crossbow bolts flew at him, one creasing across his arm.

Three kobolds frantically began to reload their weapons.  Beyond them clustered the remnants of the tribe: females and young, no more than two dozen in all.

Floyd and Smith charged into the room, firing from the hip.  One of the crossbows exploded in a shower of splinters, a shard of wood flying up and spearing its scaly owner through the throat.

"Eat this!" Beverly threw a grenade toward one of the other creatures, but her aim was off: the metal sphere bounced short, spraying superheated phosphorous in all directions.  Amazingly, the target of her attack was left unharmed.

Floyd, unfortunately, was not.

The synthetic fibres of his rhinestone jumpsuit evaporated in a sheet of flame, singing most of the hair off his incipient pot-belly.

"Mah hair ..." he choked out, and collapsed.

* * *

"Don't _ever_ throw a grenade that close to one of us again." Smith shoved Beverly against a wall and jabbed her in her perfect chest.

"Hands off!" she slapped his finger away, "Besides, you did it earlier."

"Yeah, but I didn't miss."

"What's the big deal, he lived didn't he?" Beverly gestured at Floyd, who was busily styling his hair, using a battered steel shield as a mirror. "You're just cranky because your little convert ran off as soon as we were distracted."

"Don't do it again." Smith repeated, turning away. "Floyd, let me know when you're ready to move.  Now we've dealt with one lot of these little freaks, I want to go try that dragon door."

Even with Floyd unconscious, the fight had lasted less than thirty seconds.  Two crossbows simply couldn't stand against three modern weapons.  Smith's medical attention had restored the disciple of Elvis to consciousness, while Beverly and Fabio kicked and swore at the non-combatant kobolds, until all the scaly creatures had fled out of the sunken building.

"Let's roll." Floyd slipped on a new white cape, and the four humans left the chamber to the corpses of their foes.

* * *

The 'dragon door' was a heavy, stone portal, with a leering dragon's head carved into it.  In the mouth of the head was a small keyhole.  The key slipped easily inside, and turned.

_Click._

"Boom!" Beverly giggled as the three men jumped, then shrugged as they glared at her, "What?  Like you weren't thinking it."

They made their way through several empty chambers.  Dust lay heavy on most of the surfaces, stirring up as they moved.  Fabio sneezed.

"This is not good for my sinuses."

Eventually, they reached a larger room.  Floyd played his flashlight over the walls, revealing several niches containing statues.

"Last one's empty." He reported, the light lingering on the hollow.

"There's an opening in the far wall." Smith moved forward slowly, his own light splashing on the floor. "Big hole in front of it.  Looks like spikes in the bottom, too."

"Can we jump it?"

"Maybe.  It's ten feet across."

Floyd sucked air through his teeth, then shrugged,

"Let's look for a way around, first.  Maybe there's a secret door in that alcove without the statue."

There wasn't, and - after searching four of the five statues as well - Smith decided to go down into the pit, then try to climb up the other side.

"We still have one statue to check." Beverly reminded him.

"I think you three can manage that, while I try this way." Smith shrugged, "As long as we get across, does it matter how we do it?"

* * *

Clinging invisibly to the wall, Jot watched as the lone human clambered down into the pit.  The bat-winged imp suppressed a chuckle of anticipation, relishing the thought of attacking this particular man.  Even from this distance, the smell of godliness about him was nauseating.

Hearing the scuffling sounds of climbing cease, Jot launched himself into the air, then dived into the pit.

* * *

Smith shouted in alarm as the tiny demon appeared out of thin air, raking at him with its gnarled claws.  The wounds it opened burned with a dull ache, and he knew they were tainted with a foul poison.

"God shall _punish_ thee for thy sins!" he swung his pick, striking the creature hard and knocking it tumbling through the air.  Seizing the opportunity, he dug his fingers into the wall and began to clamber out of the pit.

Beverly and Floyd appeared above him, firing down at the small creature, but it flitted back and forth, nimbly dodging their fire, then swooped in to rake Smith across his back.  The Mormon grunted, but blocked out the pain, scrambling out onto the floor of the room.

"Fall back, and let's give it a warm welcome!" Floyd called, as the creature scratched and bit at Fabio.  Showing uncommon teamwork, the four humans all retreated together, opening some space between them and their foe. "Now!"

Four grenades arced down on the creature, bursting in sprays of phosphorous and shrapnel.  Despite the storm of flame and metal shards, however, the creature swooped out all but unscratched.  Cackling gleefully, it ripped its claws across Beverly's shoulder, tearing cloth and flesh alike.

"Hey!  That was a four hundred dollar blouse!"

"Come here, ya little bastard." Floyd leapt forward and snatched the creature out of the air.  It bit at his hand as he did so, but the man's grip was too firm to shake. "Mr Smith, if you'll do the honours?"

*BOOM.*

Still the creature struggled, trying to get free.  Fabio and Beverly stepped up beside the Mormon.

*BOOM.  BOOM.  BOOM.*

* * *

Battered from all their encounters, the group collapsed to rest and recover.  Both Fabio and Beverly felt listless, the creature's poison dulling their reflexes, and all four had suffered serious injuries.

"Uh thunk wev don'nough f'one day." Floyd proclaimed through a mouthful of cheeseburger, "We cun rest now."

Smith nodded his agreement, taking a careful sip of Cherry Coke.  He still wasn't sure if this drink was entirely proper sustenance for a Latter Day Saint.

"Let's call in some supplies from back home, get some rest, then continue on." He concurred.


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## ledded (May 21, 2004)

Great, great stuff man.  Keep up the good work.


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## DMO (May 21, 2004)

What a blast!  I am hereby offended and lovin' it.


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## pogre (May 23, 2004)

Now this is fun and pure genious! Keep it coming.


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## Capellan (May 31, 2004)

*6: Enter the Ninja*
The supplies, when they arrived, were accompanied by a skinny white teenager in a faded _Wolverine_ t-shirt.

"Yo.  Wassup?" he made 'gangsta' signs with both hands, "Simon da Super Ninja is in da house."

There was a moment of goggle-eyed silence as the four unwashed, blood-spattered members of the group took in this acne'd, backwards-cap-wearing, baggy pantsed apparition.

Floyd slowly stood, his coif making him nearly a foot taller than the newcomer,

"Son, what all in the hell are you supposed to be?"

The boy sighed,

"I'm _Simon the Super-Ninja_.  I'm part of your team."

"It's funny." Smith tapped his fingers on the barrel of his sawn-off, "I don't remember seeing you when we were sending all those scaly critters to the Lord."

"I had bronchitis."

"Uh huh."

"Look, I'm here now, and I'm ready to kick some.  When do we start?"

"You all can start whenever you like." Floyd looked up from perusing the contents of the manila envelope that had come with their latest order of high incendiary goodness, "Ah'm goin' home for a while."

"What?" Beverly was outraged, "How come you get to go home and they won't let me leave?"

"Religious observances." Floyd waved a rhinestone-studded memorandum under her nose, "It's the Feast of the King.  I'll be back in five days, y'all." He turned to the floating WCX camera and gave it a thumbs up, "Viva Las Vegas, baby."

There was a crackle of silver energy, and Floyd was gone.

* * *

"Okay, let's check this last alcove." Smith indicated the middle statue on the south wall, "And let's hope there are no distractions this time."

"I'll do it." Simon volunteered, "Ninja are trained to notice the smallest details." He slid past the statue and began to inspect the wall.  "Yo, there's a secret door here."

The door opened onto a stone corridor, thick with dust and cobwebs.

"Homes, that's gonna play hell with da Sy-man's allergies."

"You'll get over it." Smith pushed past the younger man, "There's something written on the wall, here."  He brushed the dust away, "It's some of that scribble they call writing, round here.  Anyone picked up the lingo, yet?"

Fabio inspected it, lips moving silently as he pieced together the words.

"It says something about a priest, buried alive for breaking the law."

Smith shrugged,

"It's not like he'd be a _real_ priest, anyway.  Let's follow it."

They followed the corridor, which looped through a short arc before coming to an end at a stone door - 

"No traps, homes."

- which opened into a room on the other side of the spiked pit.  This was dimly lit by a flickering green torch, which cast strange shadows across the large stone sarcophagus in the centre of the room.

"I can sense something in it." Smith narrowed his eyes, "And it's not a follower of the true faith."

"Imagine that." Beverly rolled her eyes and adjusted her bra, "I've watched this show on TV enough to know what happens next.  We open that thing and whatever's inside jumps out and tries to kill us, right?"

"Pretty much." Smith nodded, "Anyone got any complaints about going with that plan?"

Fabio does.

"The lighting here is really bad."

* * *

Slowly, Fabio and Simon forced open each of the six metal clasps that were holding the lid of the sarcophagus shut.

"Push the lid aside and step back fast." Smith warned. "Or I'll have to give you your last rites." He patted his shotgun tenderly.

Simon stepped back immediately,

"You can take it from here, Fabio." He drew a pair of pistols and dropped into a pose, "I'll put a cap in it when it comes out."

Fabio shrugged and bent to the task, muscles straining as he pushed against the massive stone lid.

"Mmmmm, in this light he kinda looks like Lou Ferrigno." Beverly sounded impressed.  Fabio visibly preened as he gave the lid one last shove, pushing it away and onto the floor.

Right on cue, the monster burst out.

* * *

"The boy's got stones." The old man sounded appreciative, "Steppin' in and givin' that critter a shot at him so he could land a hit of his own.  What was his name, again?"

"Joseph Isaiah Smith, sir." Jacobsen flicked through some papers, "From Salt Lake City."

Patton, attention on the giant image on the wall, grunted sourly.

"Mormon?"

"Yes sir."

"Better that than a godless commie, I guess." Patton gave a yellow-toothed snarl of appreciation as Smith reeled backwards, blood spurting from torn flesh on his arms and chest. "Tough son-of-a-bitch, ain't he?"

Fabio suddenly filled the camera's vision, leaping forward dramatically and slashing at the creature with his sword.  The beast's green, lightly scaled skin did little to stop the blow, and black ichor sprayed across the floor.  The flow rapidly ceased, however, as the edges of the wound immediately started to knit shut.

The creature - a long-limbed humanoid with a rubbery look to its flesh - snarled and backhanded Fabio with one of its claws.  The man spun away from the blow almost as dramatically as he had leapt in.

When he finally moved out of the shot, the beast was down, stabbed through the eye by Simon.

"Damn show-pony." Patton snapped, "Jacobsen, get another camera down there so I can watch things without the pretty boy getting in the way."

* * *

Smith pulled the pin on the Willy Pete and dropped it on the creature's rapidly healing body.  White fire ignited the flesh, searing the corpse to a burnt out husk in a matter of seconds.

"Burn in hell, demon." He muttered, before glancing at the others.  Beverly was already leaning into the sarcophagus to check for treasure.  A happily married man, the Mormon averted his eyes from the nigh-obscene display.  Neither Fabio nor Simon had any such compunctions.

"Did you see the way I took that sucker down, yo?" Simon waved his hand in front of his face, "Bi-yatch didn't even see me coming."

"I can't believe it was a 'Bi-yatch'," Fabio looked confused, "I have not heard of such things."

"He was cursing." Smith slapped the 'Super Ninja' over the back of the head, "Mind your mouth in front of the lady, young man."

"That ain't no lady, that's a ho -" Simon spotted Smith's hand rise, "A homie.  You're all my homies.  We did the bizniss, yo."

Smith rubbed his forehead.  It seemed the Good Lord was sending him a migraine.


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## Graywolf-ELM (May 31, 2004)

Oh man, this will quickly become popular.  I saw it first.

GW


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## megamania (May 31, 2004)

...and to think I thought I was pushing the censorship limit in my SH.  Curious to see where this will go and run to.


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## megamania (May 31, 2004)

I have not read something like this since describing one of my female bards awakening to a dozen of short naked happy Hej-kin in Darksun!  

Either you have a whacked sence of humor or drinking lots.  Either way-  keep it up.

I mau actually have to keep after this site


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## megamania (May 31, 2004)

where is Elvis the Bard?


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## Thomas Hobbes (May 31, 2004)

Oh dear sweet _lord_ I cannot stop laughing.  Simon and Smith are priceless.


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## Capellan (Jun 10, 2004)

*7: Goblin Your Food*
"The apostate Goblin went this way." Smith pointed, "We should follow."

Beverly examined her nails,

"Wasn't there a pit trap along that corridor?"

"True." Smith considered this point, "We need some way to spike the trap open, so we can see it -"

He was interrupted by a soft _thud_ as Fabio tossed the body of a kobold into the hole.  The usually taciturn man gestured at the many corpses littered around the room,

"Why don't we just fill it in?"

* * *

Trekar ran to sound the alarm.

It had been several days since he had escaped from the strange outlanders who destroyed the kobolds, and he had begun to hope they had gone, or been killed themselves.  Now they were back, attacking the guards Durnn had set on this passageway, after Trekar brought word of the invaders.

Behind him, he could hear the clash of weapons and the shouts of the follower of the human god, Mormon.  The outlanders were strong.  Five guards would not be enough.  He had to alert the whole tribe, and then they would feast on human flesh.

* * *

Standing amidst the bodies of the fallen goblin guards, Beverly poked Simon with her perfectly manicured toe.  The young 'Super Ninja' lay unconscious at the room's doorway, having been felled as he tried to follow a fleeing goblin.

"Should have paid more attention the ones that _weren't_ running." She opined, before glancing at Smith, "Is he gonna live?"

"He will survive." Smith closed the Book of Mormon with an audible _snap_. "But I do not believe he will recover consciousness for some hours."

"We don't have hours." Beverly reminded him, pointing at the closed door.  Beyond, there were sounds of shouting and commotion in the distance, surely preparations for the goblins to assault the group, as they did once before. "We'll be lucky if we have minutes, before that lot turn up."

"We will overcome them." Smith glanced around, "We can defend from this doorway and use grenades to break up their rush.  We will triumph because the Good Lord makes us strong."

"Riiiight." Beverly rolled her eyes and popped her gum, "It won't have anything to do with our good friends Smith & Wesson."

* * *

"Now this is the kind of action I was talking about." Patton slammed his bony fist down on the metal arm rest and gave a dry cackle, "Reminds me of some of the fighting at the Bulge.  Hot and hard and right up close."

Jacobsen turned slightly green as the old man cackled again.

"Did you see the way the Mormon pulped that one's head?  You never would have got that kind of impact from an M1."

"If you say so, sir."

"I _do_ say so, Jacobsen." Patton rubbed his hands together, dead skin visibly flaking away as he did so, "Oh, nice shot from the pretty-boy.  Doesn't like it when they hit the girl, does he?"

"He's a model gentleman, sir."

"Gentleman, my ass.  He's got his mind on 'the prize'." The cadaverous General gave a dirty chuckle, "Speaking of which - you put the standard bra and panties clause in her contract?"

"Of course, sir."

"Good work, Jacobsen."


* * *

*Internal Memorandum

From:*  Head Office
*To:*   WCX Payroll

*Subject:*   Pay Scale Variation


The following personnel have been restored to active employment, at the pay scales listed below, effective immediately.


_Joseph Isaiah Smith_
Current Payroll Scale: PAL1
New Payroll Scale: PAL2  (Bonus Scale: FTR1)


_Floyd of the Church of the King_
Current Payroll Scale: CLR1
New Payroll Scale: CLR2


_Fabulous Fabio_
Current Payroll Scale: BRD1
New Payroll Scale: BRD3


_Beverly Hills-Hilton_
Current Payroll Scale: SOR1
New Payroll Scale: SOR2


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## Dungannon (Jun 10, 2004)

I guess falling unconcious in your first combat doesn't merit a pay raise for Simon da Super Ninja?


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## Capellan (Jun 23, 2004)

*8: A Cool Reception*
After the massive battle with dozens of goblin warriors, the rest of that level of the citadel proved fairly pedestrian.  There was some runty little lizard that breathed snowflakes (killed, eaten, tasty); a bunch of non-combatant goblins (just killed) and more of the vicious, black-furred rats that always seemed to eviscerate someone in the group (killed with extreme prejudice, and the remains jumped up and down on in victory).

Eventually, with Floyd back from his holy celebration and Simon once more vanished on sick leave ("I was seriously injured, homes."), the group found themselves at the top of a deep shaft, leading further down into the remains of the ancient fortress.  The walls of the shaft were lined with scores of thick, grey-green vines, all lit up by a sickly glow from the cavern far below.

"Looks about eighty feet down." Floyd observed, "With some big ol' pile o' luminescent fungus at the bottom.  I'm figurin' that can't be good."

"I'll go down first." Smith determined, breaking out the Nike-branded climbing gear.

No-one volunteered to go second, and thus it was that the Mormon reached the bottom the shaft alone.  Finding that his feet sunk a few inches into the compost-like mound, releasing a rank odour of decay, he wrinkled his nose.

Which is roughly the point that the cloaked figures rushed him.

* * *

"Nice move from the Elvisite." Patton cackled, "Bet going down the rope like that burned the skin off his hands.  Would've made great footage, if only he coulda shot straight, at the end."

Jacobsen nodded sycophantically as one of the cloaked figures disappeared in a spray of ragged cloth and bone shards.

"Mr Smith seems to be quite effective with that shotgun, however." He observed, scratching notes in his journal.  _Merchandising deal with Remington for Smith?  Splice Floyd abseil footage with killing something on sell-through._

Patton noticed the jerky movements of Jacobsen's pen, and a camera swung in to give the corpse-like General a view of the notes.

"Good work, Jacobsen." He grunted approvingly, "If the damn Commies can doctor their video, why not us?"

The lead of Jacobsen's pencil snapped as the comment made him start.

"Yes, sir." He managed weakly at last, with a nervous smile, "Can't let those Reds get the better of us, sir."

* * *

Given his name, and the trauma of growing up with it in a Bugbear clan, it probably wasn't surprising that Balsag the Hunter was a certifiable sociopath.  After he'd snapped at the age of twelve, massacring his parents and over a dozen of his most frequent tormentors, he had fled to the ancient ruins in the canyon, knowing that none of the clan would follow him into its reputedly haunted halls.

Now, crouched in the darkness with his only friends in the world, the slavering dire rats 'Grip' and 'Fang', he watched the intruders while picking at his teeth with a dagger.  The humans were oblivious to his presence, their attention on the skeletons and twig blights they had just destroyed.

Balsag grinned at that.  Belak would not be pleased to have even more of his bizarre creations destroyed.  Well, the so-called 'Outcast' could kiss his hairy rump.  Especially when Balsag brought him the human's skulls.

With a bellow, he charged out of the darkness.

* * *

The massive, furry brute slammed its morningstar into Fabio's chest, sending the handsome young man staggering backwards.    The remaining rat - the one that hadn't been blown to pieces by a shotgun blast - snapped at Fabio's leg, dragging him to the ground.  With a triumphant snarl, its master turned on Floyd.

Smith, his boots slipping in his own blood, staggered back into the fray.  His vision was still a little blurred from the blow he had already taken, but surely - _surely_ - the monster had to go down soon.  Gore matted the fur on its chest, from where he had wounded it earlier.

There was a squeal from behind the Mormon as Fabio finally drove his blade through the rat's brain.

"Floyd!  Get clear!" Smith waved his arm.  The other man swirled his silver lame cloak to confuse the creature, then dodged to the left, opening up a space.  Smith stepped into it, gasping wetly for breath as blood seeped into his lungs.

"Hur hur hur." The creature's shoulders shook with laughter as the Mormon swayed before it.  Vicious, pig-like eyes glinted as it raised its wickedly-spiked weapon.

"Not this time, heretic."

Smith's arm swung up.

The shotgun thundered.


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## Sniktch (Jun 23, 2004)

capellan said:
			
		

> The shotgun thundered.




Oh, very nice


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## ledded (Jul 15, 2004)

Excuse me sir, might I have another?


Update, that is...


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## Capellan (Jul 18, 2004)

Sorry - things have been a bit hectic here.

I plan to update (maybe even finish the Citadel) before the end of the month.  Stay tuned


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## Capellan (Jul 20, 2004)

*9: These Goblins are a Real Bugbear* 
"Now that's what I call a _fight_." Patton remarked with satisfaction. "Blood everywhere, people slippin' on entrails - that's the kinda stuff that audiences pay to see."

"Yes sir." Jacobsen agreed dutifully.

"Of course, now we gotta wait a whole day until they're ready to go down again." The ancient General curled his lip in annoyance, "These boys have good moments, but they need to build up some stamina."

"Indeed, Sir.  Though I believe we will be able to eliminate that problem for the telecasts." Jacobsen flicked through his clipboard of notes, "Editing have been working on compiling a ten-part series to cover the whole run.  We'll have to blur some of the content for TV, of course, but that just means better sales on the tapes and laser discs."

"Good work, Jacobsen." Patton drummed his bony fingers on the metal desk, "Might not hurt to start building up their profile ahead o' time.  We've got a swimsuit issue coming up soon.  Pull the girl out of there and get her in the photo shoot.  Include some stills from that big fight with the goblins.  Put her back in once she shoot's done."

"Is that wise, sir?  What if she gets killed before the issue runs?"

"Then we'll border the pages in black.  Get on it, Jacobsen."

* * *

"Are you ready to continue, Mister Anderson?"

"Call me Floyd, Joe." The scion of the King buckled the last strap his rhinestone-studded leather armour, "Not even mah daddy was 'Mister Anderson'." Floyd paused to check the condition of his coif, "He was either Mister Jenner or Mr Ryan; mah momma never was too sure."

"I shall pray for your mother's eternal soul."

"Ah'm sure she will appreciate the gesture, Joe." Floyd's mouth momentarily twitched into something suspiciously like a smirk, "Ah'll do the same for yours." As the Mormon nearly choked in indignation, the Elvisite continued blithely, "How 'bout we head down again and see what all we can kill?"

* * *

"No sign of the big furry bastard's body." Floyd commented as they reached the base of the shaft once more. "Someone musta taken it."

"Maybe they wanted him for fertiliser." Fabio gestured at the huge pile of rotting vegetation, with fungi of all kinds sprouting from it.

"Whoever they are, they're a little too organised for mah tastes." Floyd slapped the butt of his shotgun, newly purchased from the WCX store. "I'm glad I bought l'il Sadie, here."

The cave had three exits; one led to a dead end, the second to a deep chasm, dark and impassable.  Floyd spat over the edge, watching the small white glob disappear into the blackness below.  Nobody suggested trying to follow it down.

The third route led to a wooden door, closed and locked.  Sadie opened it.

As the last smoking splinters of wood hit the stone flagstones, the three men stepped through the doorway, Floyd methodically reloading as he moved.  The hall beyond was wide, the roof supported by dragon-carved pillars.  Six doors led out; three to a side.  For a moment, nothing stirred except the cordite smoke.

And then all hell broke loose.

Five of the six doors burst open, sallow-skinned goblins boiling forth.  One of the creatures ran through the last door, shrieking in its native language.  Chunks of stone blasted out of the wall behind it as it ran.

"Damnation!" Smith cursed, pumping his shotgun and unleashing another blast into the onrushing horde. "He'll bring more of them!"

The howling, yammering goblins swarmed around and between the three men, slashing at them with jagged, broad-bladed knives.  One stabbed Fabio in the thigh, then ducked behind a pillar as he swung his sword.  Stone chips flew from one of the graven dragons, but the goblin went unscathed.

"One down!" Floyd called, his golden guitar severing the neck of a goblin slower or less lucky than its companions.

"Two - _aaargh_!" Smith's cry of satisfaction was cut short as one of the creatures plunged a dagger deep into his side.  Blood ran in thick streams from the wound, and a wet sound crept into the Mormon's breathing.

Floyd cursed, using rather strong terms than "damnation".

"We're getting swamped!" he called, ducking back so that a lunging dagger only scraped its tip across his chest. "If they do get help -"

The last door swing open once more, and another of the huge, fur-covered humanoids strode into the room, swinging a massively spiked morning star as it came.

* * *

"Are we getting this, Jacobsen?"

"Yessir."

"We damn well better be." The General pounded one fist on the desk, his lips splitting in a cadaverous grin. "Win or lose, this is these boys greatest moment.  If they get themselves killed, I want to be able to watch it again."

* * *

The _second_ bugbear's morning star smashed into Fabio's ribcage, driving the young man backward in a swirl of over-sprayed hair.

The first one, the fur on its arm matted with blood, bellowed in triumph and slammed its own weapon down on Fabio's wrist.  There was a crunch of bone as the wrist snapped, the man's sword flying from his deadened fingers.

"The Lord _strike_ thee." Smith batted aside a goblin's knife with his long empty shotgun, then buried his pick in the creature's brain.  Kicking his way past another of the smaller humanoids, the Mormon reached out and touched a hand to the other man's shoulder. "And grant thee _aid_."  Golden energy flared around Fabio's wrist, the bones knitting together just as the pain seemed about to overwhelm him.

The three remaining goblins swarmed over Floyd, now isolated from the others by Smith's move to aid Fabio.  One of them fell as he swung his guitar, but the other two plunged their daggers deep into his stomach: hideous wounds that meant a slow death.  The Elvisite slumped to his knees, hands clutching the jagged rents.

And the third bugbear strode through the door.

* * *

Floyd hovered on the edge of darkness, sensing more than seeing that the goblins had turned their attention to his companions.

Scrabbling at the smooth stone flagstones, he forced his battered body a few scant feet across the floor, passing through a doorway to lie gasping in one of the six rooms leading off the hall.

Vision swimming in and out of focus, Floyd stumbled his way through the words of one of the King's Great Songs.  Warmth flooded out from his gore-spattered stomach, knitting his wounds closed.

Then, spitting curses that would make his mother blush, the young man pushed himself up off the ground and raised Sadie to a firing position.

* * *

"The Elvisite's back up but the Mormon's down!" Patton cackled as he dipped his hand in a huge barrel of pork rinds, "That lung hit musta finally caught up with him."

"Do you think they will win, Sir?"

"One out and one barely moving ... a goblin and a bugbear still in the fight.  The Elvisite's done all he can with that last shot.  It's all down to the pretty boy, now."

* * *

It was all down to Fabio.  

He spun, and stepped back from the last of the massive bugbears.  A glance to the left told him Smith was still down, a blood-stained goblin leaning over him.  A glance to the right showed that Floyd was fumbling to reload Sadie.  Too far, too slow.

His hands crossed over his front, snatching the pistols from his belt.  The chrome barrels gleamed as they swung upwards, flames belting from the muzzles as he fired.

Two bodies slumped to the ground.

It had all been down to Fabio, and he had delivered.

And he'd got his best close-up yet, while doing it.


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## threshel (Jul 20, 2004)

Yes, definitely worth the wait.  Keep up the good work, Capellan!  I already want more.

J


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## DMO (Jul 20, 2004)

Boy howdy!


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## robberbaron (Jul 26, 2004)

Oh my.
Look in the dictionary under "Epic".


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## ledded (Jul 26, 2004)

Wahoo!  

Man, I have got *nothing* but love for this story hour.

Great style, great action, and characters that make you laugh yet you still identify with despite their, ahem, idiosyncrasies .  And enough non-apologetic, non-political-correctness to satisfy even the most jaded cynic, without ever *quite* taking it too far  .


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## Capellan (Aug 5, 2004)

*10: Belak Gets a Hoe-sing*
"Gross dereliction of duty." Patton fumed, "Asking for leave this close to the end of things.  Where's the man's pride in his work?"

"To be fair, sir, his wife is in labour."

"The man has four wives, Jacobsen!  If we let him take leave every time one of them drops a brat, the Mormon will have as many days off as that Super-Ninja idiot.  Besides, if he goes, that only leaves the Elvisite and the pretty boy.  With just the two of 'em, they'll hunker down and sit tight."

"Ah." Jacobsen checked his clipboard.  So _that_ was what the old man was so irritated about. "Well, Sir ... we could always send back the young lady?"

"She ain't no lady.  Har!" Patton gave a wheezing laugh, slapping his knee with one bone-like hand. "She done with that photo-shoot?"

"She's got one more session scheduled for today, sir, but I'm sure we could get them to rush it through."

"Do it."

"And the Mormon's leave, sir?"

Patton nodded, stiffly.

"He can go."

* * * 

"Ah thought y'all said you weren't supposed t'be here?" Floyd raised his eyebrows, "Y'said ya were just an intern, back Earth-side."

Beverly shrugged, tapping glitter-painted nails on the hilt of her Colt .45.

"I guess I did sign something.  There were kinda a lot of forms to fill out when I started.  I didn't really read them -" she broke off with a jump and a giggle as Fabio walked behind her.

"Since you two seem rarin' t'go." Floyd watched the double entendre go right over Beverly's head, "We'll head on down again and see what all we can find t'kill."

What all they can find turns out to be a fiery-hot worm-like creature, near as long as a man's height.  The beast nearly sears its way through Floyd's chest before the three of them manage to finish it.  At the end, with a wipe of his brow, the Elvisite looks at his lightly scorched companions.  His own flesh has the more-than-healthy pinkness of newly-healed scars.

"Ah'm about tapped out for healin'." he remarks, "What I got left might keep someone from dyin', but I doubt it would get 'em back on their feet."

The decision is made to rest where they are, in a large cavern filled with fields of fungus.  A rack of gardening implements lines one wall.  Beverly examines these and points at one,

"Look, a hoe!"

"Ah'll say." Floyd isn't looking at the tools, "Lotta hoes around here."

Neither Fabio nor Beverly gets it, and after playing rock-scissors-paper to decide who is on watch (Bev loses), they settle down to rest.

* * * 

_They have come again._

The voice of the Gulthias tree seeped into Belak's head, like black sap oozing from a cut in the dark wood.

The Outcast raised his head, staring with maddened adoration at the twisted trunk and grasping branches ofthe black-leafed tree.  As he did so, one of the stunted, snivelling goblins scampered into the chamber.  Belak turned his gaze upon it, brow creasing.  The frightened beast sank to the ground, banging its head on the moss-covered stones.

"Measgol sorry to disturb Master Belak," it grovelled, "But Measgol see intruders in western garden.  Measgol not seen by them."

"How many?" Belak barked, startling a quiver of terror out of the creature.

"Measgol see three, Master Belak." the goblin quavered, "Measgol run tell Master, so Master can destroy filthy outsiders."

The Outcast stood, fists clenching at his sides,

"You have done well." he allowed, "Now, fetch the rest of your tribe, and be quick about it."

As the goblin ran to obery, Belak bowed to the tree,

"GIve forth your bounty, Oh Gulthias, that I might destroy these intruders in your domain."

All around him, the twisted forms of twig blights began to tear themselves from the earth, ready for the coming battle.

There was a long _creak_ of warping timber, then a dull cracking sound, and the roots of the tree tore up from the earth as a mouth-like hole opened in the trunk, disgorging two bodies onto the floor at Belak's feet.

Belak laughed as the two rose to their feet.  Once human, there features were now warped and bestial, twisted into a brown, bark-like appearance.

"Just as I gave you these offerings." he promised the mighty tree, "Soon I will give you three more.  They cannot hope to stand against my army."

* * * 

"I wonder what he thought he was doin', attackin' us like he did?" Floyd poked his foot into Belak's bullet-shattered body. "Stupid bastard never had a chance."

Fabio shrugged, his attention occupied with gathering the valuables from the bodies of the fallen.

"And what about these two?" Beverly gestured at the two other ... well, 'humans' seemed the nearest approximation. "They look like they came from Earth.  Or at least she does." She pointed at the dead woman, who had dyed pink hair, and wore a leotard with leg warmers and an aging Iron Maiden t-shirt.

"They both are.  There are Doc Martens on this one." Fabio indicated the man with the sword, now as dead as his partner.  A faceful of shotgun will do that to a fellow.

"Musta gone commie." Floyd nodded sagely.

* * * 

There was precious little left to do, once the business of sifting through the enemy's corpses was done.  It proved that only a handful of chambers were left in the complex, and Belak had all but emptied them for his assault on the three humans.

Eventually, they came to the darkened cavern of the Gulthias tree itself.

"Ho-lee." Floyd whistled, "What all is that?"

"An oak?" Beverly suggested.

"There's an apple." Fabio pointed to the golden fruit, high in the upper branches.

"So there is." Floyd nodded, "I guess we found ourselves the fruit we were sent to get.  Fact of it, we found the whole damn tree."

"The bark looks kind of like those two humans we killed." Beverly remarked, fishing in her purse for some gum.

"So it does." Floyd pondered for a moment, then turned to the ever-present floating camera, "How soon can you all send some earth-movin' gear down here?  Ah'm thinking Mr Patton will be wantin' this here tree for hisself."


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## DMO (Aug 6, 2004)

Great stuff as always, Capellan. I love the quick transition from Belak's glory at the foot of the Gulthias tree to his utter and humiliating defeat at the foot of Floyd. Keep up the stellar work!


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## Mathew_Freeman (Aug 9, 2004)

Work. Of. Genius!

How dare you keep this one quiet, Capellan! You should be publicising this all over the place - it's fantastic?

Are you planning to keep on running these characters and following the adventure path? Or do you think they'd get a little boring after a while?


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## Capellan (Aug 10, 2004)

The plan is to keep doing the Adventure Path, with these characters, until it's no longer fun.  However, we play this as one of our rotating Thursday night games, so there's a bit of a gap (3-4 months) between playing each module.  We should be starting to *The Forge of F.U.* in about 6 weeks, and regular updates will resume then.

In a couple of weeks (when I get home from holidays) I will post the house rules we have been using.  I have this neat li'l PDF and everything 

I may also update with some notes on the setting, if I get motivated enough


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## Tony Vargas (Aug 10, 2004)

I have to ask: is this modern characters planeshifted into deadly danger for entertainment revenue idea lifted from something?  Module? Book? Computer Game? HoL?


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## Capellan (Aug 11, 2004)

The planeshifting thing was simply the quickest and easiest (and laziest  ) way to explain modern-era PCs in an otherwise wholly fantasy-based setting.  There wasn't any particular source for it, beyond that (though I have certainly seen plenty of stuff that uses this kind of device).


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## Capellan (Sep 11, 2004)

You can now download the entire "Stick Your Citadel Where the Sun Don't Shine" in the ENWorld downloads section.  Or just click here.

And as promised, for those who are interested, I've attached the house rules we're using for this game.  Just click on the file below.


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## BSF (Sep 23, 2004)

Now that was great fun!  I will subscribe this puppy and try to point my friends toward it.  

Thanks for the Story Hour.  I am eagerly awaiting the next portion of the saga.


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## Thomas Hobbes (Sep 23, 2004)

Looking forward to the sequal, and you've inspired me to actually track down this adventure path- whether I'll use X-path or something else I don't know, but we'll see....


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## Capellan (Sep 26, 2004)

Thomas Hobbes said:
			
		

> you've inspired me to actually track down this adventure path




Be aware that the WotC Adventure Path is very much "back to the dungeon" type stuff.  Lots of big complexes filled with nasty monsters in the early entries, changing to small complexes filled with _really_ nasty monsters in the later ones.  If you like that kind of thing, all will be well and good.

One of the reasons I chose to run X-Path was that I couldn't see my players getting much enjoyment out of the modules, if I tried to run them as straight D&D.


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## Capellan (Sep 29, 2004)

There will be a longer gap than expected between running Sunless Citadel and Forge of Fury -- possibly a very long one.  I am heading over to the US on business for at least two months: possibly much longer.


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## Plane Sailing (Sep 30, 2004)

Capellan,

You are a psychic vampire who is draining my life away. No, really. Each on of your storyhours is a great read and I've got to look at anything with your name on it.

Seriously - great, fun writing style. Wish I could write like you


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## Dolza (Oct 1, 2004)

*this stuff is inspired!*

This is some of the funniest stuff i've ever read on these boards!  I'm eagerly awating more of the background stuff on your game.  

Even with his short appearance, Simon has got to be my favorite character, I nearly spit my water all over the screen when he said he had bronchitis!  Genius! Genius!

Have a great time in the states and know we'll all be champing at the bit waiting for the next installment of X-Path!


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## Capellan (Dec 24, 2004)

We're planning to take on *X-PATH 2 : The Forge of F.U.* in a mammoth two-day session on January 8th and 9th.  Floyd, Beverly and Joseph will all be back -- and maybe Simon and Fabio, too.  I'll be sure to let you all know how it goes


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## BSF (Dec 24, 2004)

Cool!  I would love to read about it.


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## Speed-Stick (Dec 24, 2004)

Awsome story hour


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## Peterson (Dec 26, 2004)

Capellan said:
			
		

> We're planning to take on *X-PATH 2 : The Forge of F.U.* in a mammoth two-day session on January 8th and 9th.  Floyd, Beverly and Joseph will all be back -- and maybe Simon and Fabio, too.  I'll be sure to let you all know how it goes





Ah yeah.  Who's a bad mutha _shush your mouth_

Capellan!


Seriously looking forward to catching this!

Peterson


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## Capellan (Jan 11, 2005)

We had the game, with all 5 players in attendance.  Much fun was had, and much carnage ensued.  I'm a bit busy this week, but I should be able to start the story hour for X-PATH 2 next week sometime.


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## Peterson (Jan 11, 2005)

::Makes mental note to bug Capellan next week if there is no update::     

Good to hear, good to hear.  


Peterson


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## darkbard (Jan 11, 2005)

just stumbled into this story for the first time:  what a treat!  prior to today, i've only followed four storyhours:  sepulchrave, destan, old druid and jonrog [if he's still writing... [hint, hint]].  now it's most delightedly five!  hurray for capellan and his wonderful genius!


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## Nephis (Jan 12, 2005)

darkbard said:
			
		

> just stumbled into this story for the first time:  what a treat!  prior to today, i've only followed four storyhours:  sepulchrave, destan, old druid and jonrog [if he's still writing... [hint, hint]].  now it's most delightedly five!  hurray for capellan and his wonderful genius!




 what he said....


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## Fiasco (Jan 12, 2005)

I am already slavering in anticipation. You're stuff is great, Capellan!


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## Mantreus (Jan 13, 2005)

Dolza said:
			
		

> Even with his short appearance, Simon has got to be my favorite character, I nearly spit my water all over the screen when he said he had bronchitis!  Genius! Genius!



Wow.. I didn't realise he was so popular 

Much of the mammoth weekend session consisted of "Simon, ninja the door!" or "Simon, ninja that wall!" or "Ninja that waterfall!"...

By the end of the session, Simon was down with the mad ninja skillz.. yo!


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## Capellan (Jan 21, 2005)

No updates this week - I can't get access to the 'net long enough to write and post them (long story involving misunderstandings with the landlord).  I'll write an update this weekend, but no guarantees on when I can post it.

In the mean time: Go Buy My Stuff!


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## Capellan (Jan 30, 2005)

And the madness begins again ...

X-PATH 2 : The Forge of F.U.


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## Peterson (Jan 30, 2005)

Capellan said:
			
		

> And the madness begins again ...
> 
> X-PATH 2 : The Forge of F.U.





And the madness is goooooood!


Peterson


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