Thursday, April 10, 2014

Bujilli: Episode 84

A young girl lay dead at their feet, slain by the black arrow Bujilli formed from the demon sent to kill him. Notoriously duplicitous, the arrow may have killed the wrong party; the Mask she wore held a spirit that may well have been the real culprit. But before they could learn anything more, someone interrupted Bujilli and Leeja. It was Ahven. The dead girl's brother. You could say that he took a dim view of his sister's demise...

The walls screamed. The spell collapsed into fragmented wisps of vrillic haziness that left a bitterweet aftertaste in its fading wake. Or it would have, except now there was heavy, green smoke billowing through the room as turgid green flames raced along the door-frame.

Bujilli hesitated. Went to Leeja. She scratched terrible ruts in the floor with her claws; "Go!"

He turned to go after Ahven.

Green Flames roared through the doorway. A noxious, poisonous pillar of fire that hurt to even look at it.

Bujilli grabbed Leeja. Yanked her to her feet. Ignored her claws. Pulled her along with him through the door, diving under the sizzling canopy of flames. The column roiled and flared, expanding rapidly from the top as it rolled into the room, a blind avatar of inexorable destruction.

The room exploded behind them.

Leeja tore herself loose from Bujilli's grip.

Bujilli slipped on the smoldering shreds of what used to be carpeting. Rolled. Righted himself. Took his bearing and lunged as hard as he could.

Ahven let out a startled gasp as Bujilli slammed into his med-section full force. The femur-bone slipped from the boy's grasp but was attached to his wrist by a thin cord or lanyard.

The raging green flames ceased instantly. Air crashed back into the devastated room with a loud clap of almost thunder.

Leeja jammed her claws into the boy's left shoulder. Hauled him onto his feet. Onto his tip-toes.

Bujilli opened his mouth, about to say something, saw her gold-green eyes smoldering with rage. Closed his mouth. Drew out his dagger and cut the cord. The femur-bone clattered to the floor. A quick, cursory examination showed him that the things seemed to be inert, so he dug out a rag and wrapped the thing and slid it into his belt-pouch. He wasn't going to leave it within easy reach of someone who knew how to use it.

"Morlock relics and the hateful speech. You use them both. Just not very well."

"Well enough bitch."

"No," Leeja twisted her claws slightly, "not really."

He jerked like a spastic puppet, trying desperately not to scream.

She smiled. He screamed. Long and loud.

"Enough." Bujilli replaced his dagger and drew out his hand-axe once more. He wasn't sure whose head he might have to take at the moment.

The boy collapsed. Leeja let him drop. Wiped her claws on her leggings. Stared at Bujilli.

A tense, unpleasant moment.

So much hung in the balance.

Bujilli coughed. Pointed to the unconscious boy with his hand-axe.

"He hurt you..."

"He nearly killed me. If you hadn't..." She averted her eyes. Shame? Something else?

"I couldn't leave you there." He looked back into the burned-out room. Heavy, foul smoke lingered in the place. Corpse-smoke. It made his nostrils burn.

Bujilli sneezed.

"You're both bleeding. Him far worse than you. Do we need him alive?" She came over before Bujilli. One hand caressed his face. Rubbed the stubble on his chin. She pulled out wool-lint and a rag from his belt-pouch and bound his wounds with studious care. The boy lay bleeding behind them.

"I'm reluctant to leave him. Once we stop the bleeding, we can carry him along to the Athenaeum. We can see if Morquin can give us a hand with him, otherwise, I can ask Hedrard for some help with him." He ran his fingers over the simple amulet she had given him back during his fateful first meeting with her. A subtle pulse let him know that she was aware of the situation.

Leeja stood back and let Bujilli deal with the boy. She would not touch him. Not in anything but the most violent fashion. The hate was fading from her luminous eyes. But slowly.

Bujilli quickly examined the boy. Did what he could for the wounds. Bound his hands and feet. Cast a Sleep spell on him for good measure. Lifted him to his shoulder. The kid was fairly light. All skin and bones, as it were.

They set off down the hallway. Passing a Custodian headed toward the blasted room. They quickened their pace and tried to put some distance between them and the Custodian.

Bujilli followed the visual cues provided by his Counsel. Static maps were mostly useless in the Academy, so  much of it was dynamic and frequently shifting or changing orientation that a map needed to be updated quite often to be of any use. Counsel proven itself invaluable as it evaluated their current position and sought out the quickest route to their destination, the Athenaeum.

The boy was getting heavy by the time they finally reached the huge, black and tan double-doors. Massive colossi stood on either side, one holding forth a giant bronze book, the other unfurling a banner-like scroll, also cast in bronze. The floor was polished jasper.

They walked up to the door. Leeja balled up her fist to knock on the door panel.

The doors opened smoothly before them.

"Please, do come in--" The tall, heavy-set man in an armored apron stopped in mid-greeting.


Someone fired a gonne behind them.

Leeja was down. Blood on the pretty jasper tiles.

Another shot ricocheted from the door.

They've reached the Athenaeum...

Now they just have to survive the next bit.

As usual, we'll need Initiative rolled for 1) Bujilli, 2) Leeja, 3) Morquin's Assistant, 4) the attackers.

Another set of 4 d20 rolls, and let's say 8 d6 rolls would also be most appreciated.

Another 1d4 and a 1d20 roll would both be useful in determining what Hedrard did prior to this shoot-out.

Then...well...what should Bujilli do now?

Drop Ahven's body? Grab Leeja and drag her through the doors. Turn to face the shooters? Call out for help? Ask the guy in the doorway to assist them? Cast a deadly spell? Something else?

What do you suggest? Let me know if you have any questions or could use some clarification to help make your suggestion(s)!

What happens next is up to you, the readers.

You Decide!

Previous                                  Next

Series Five
Bj69  Bj70  Bj71  Bj72  Bj73  Bj74  Bj75  Bj76  Bj77  Bj78  Bj79  Bj80  Bj81  Bj82  Bj83  Bj84  Bj85
To be Continued...

Introduction: The Story So Far...

Starting Page  |  Central Index

About Bujilli (What is This?) | Who is Bujilli? | How to Play

Bujilli's Spells | Little Brown Journals | Loot Tally | House Rules

Series One (Episodes 1-19): Quick Index  Episode Guide
Series Two (Episode 20-36): Quick Index  Episode Guide
Series Three (Episodes 37-49): Quick Index  Episode Guide
Series Four (Episodes 50-68): Quick Index  Episode Guide
Series Five (Episodes 69-Ongoing): Quick Index  Episode Guide

Labyrinth Lord

Wednesday, April 9, 2014

These Really are Strange Aeons...

It's kind of funny how things play out in "real life" sometimes. We all know that h. P. Lovecraft 'invented' the Trans-Neptunian Planet of Yuggoth in his weird fiction and poetry. He wrote about the imaginary planet as part of his Yog Sothoth/Cthulhu Mythos, and most notably in his set of 30+ sonnets titled Fungi From well as the Whisperer in Darkness, where there is a very nice connection made to Machen's work, but that's a digression for another time. Ahem. So, if you take a look at this article posted at Nature:
A Sedna-like body with a perihelion of 80 astronomical units, you'll see the current evidence that there really is an Oort Cloud, Virginia...and that it mat be teeming with dwarf planets and other bodies. but wait, that's not all, not by a long shot. If you click over to The Guardian, there's an article that will warm the heart of any die-hard HPL-fan. Based upon what we currently know, there is compelling evidence, based upon observations of Sedna, and VP-113 ("Biden"), and  their respective orbits,that there could very well could be a Trans-Neptunian 'Super-Earth' orbiting out there. Sure, NASA has pretty-much ruled-out the notion that there might be a Saturn-sized 'Planet-X' out there, but a 'super-Earth,' only 10-times the mass of Earth might have slipped by unnoticed. So far. A very real Yuggoth might still be waiting discovery out there, rolling along the black rim of the solar system...


Tuesday, April 8, 2014

Dreaming Nettle-Jelly (Red Bestiary)

I saw nothing moving, in earth or sky or sea. The green slime on the rocks alone testified that life was not extinct. A shallow sandbank had appeared in the sea and the water had receded from the beach. I fancied I saw some black object flopping about upon this bank, but it became motionless as I looked at it, and I judged that my eye had been deceived, and that the black object was merely a rock. The stars in the sky were intensely bright and seemed to me to twinkle very little.

As I stood sick and confused I saw again the moving thing upon the shoal—there was no mistake now that it was a moving thing—against the red water of the sea. It was a round thing, the size of a football perhaps, or, it may be, bigger, and tentacles trailed down from it; it seemed black against the weltering blood-red water, and it was hopping fitfully about...
The Time Machine, by H. G. Wells

Dreaming Nettle-Jellies
No. Enc.: 1
Alignment: Chaotic
Movement: 120' (gaseous form)
Armor Class: 7 (Cannot be harmed by non-magical weapons)
Hit Dice: 1+
Attacks: 1d6
Damage: 1d6 per tentacle, + Poison (Save or suffer Paralysis for 1d4 rounds)
Save: MU 2
Morale: 4

Once they hunted shellfish and insects along the littoral zones of the blood-red seas of a distant world that was all but dead, veiled-over by the raging storms of a vast Purple Clouds that poisoned the air so that few other creatures could still breathe. The Dreaming Nettle-Jellies breathed-in the toxic vapors emitted by the Purple Clouds overhanging their seas and those that survived adapted, incorporating the poison into their stinging cells. They have followed the Purple Clouds across one world after another, dreaming their inscrutable dreams and forging subtle telepathic empires of emotionally-charged symbols and richly cultivated memory beneath ceaseless purple skies.

Their extremely pliable flesh is smoky, almost translucent, when fully extended, it takes on a deep, rich black when fully contracted. Each of their twenty-four primary tentacles is covered with thousands of stinging cells and end in long, tapering needle-like talons. They have a second set of 8-12 oral tentacles ringing their centrally-located mouths that they use only to feed themselves. These plumper, stubbier tentacles lack the talon-tips, but are covered with even more virulent stinging cells (inflict double damage, Save at -2 or suffer Paralysis for 1d4 rounds). The outer tentacles have the capability to manipulate objects, but few of them remember how to use simple tools. Instead they prefer to rely upon their stinging cells and their psychic abilities as they flit about using an innate form of limited levitation.

Nettle-Jellies are blind, but their sensory nodes are very acutely aware of vibrations, magnetism and changes in ambient light, making it very difficult to sneak-up on them, unless you move extremely fast. Hoppers intensely dislike surprises and are likely to lash out wildly with their stinging-tentacles or spells if startled, attacking everyone and everything within a 10' radius for 2d4 damage, Save at -1 or suffer Paralysis for 1d4 Turns.

 They are natural Dreamers, and rarely pay any attention to the waking worlds, preferring to leave that aspect of their existence to their instincts in a form of inspired automatism, making it very difficult to communicate with them beyond simple empathy or symbolism--they are enthusiastically emotional, but almost completely devoid of rational thought.

Nettle-Jellies progress as Magic-Users, Oneirists or Psychists, but never Clerics. They have the following innate powers: Levitate, ESP, Telepathy, and Detect Weak Point, which they can use at will. They also have a random selection of spells appropriate to their class by HD/level. Nettle-Jellies do not use spell-books, but instead culture their spells like psychic pearls within the pools of their shared dreamspace. Their spells also tend to be incredibly idiosyncratic and self-referential, and thus nearly impossible for anyone else to learn, let alone attempt to cast.

Source: These hopping invertebrate hunters along the coastal regions of distant blood-red seas were inspired by The Time Machine by H. G. Wells, with a liberally-mutated bit of Chrysaora achylos tossed in for good measure.

Saturday, April 5, 2014

Black Wood-Dogs

"Like the black wood-dogs, the Bushmen often in fits of savage frenzy destroy thrice as much as they can devour, trapping deer in wickerwork hedges, or pitfalls, and cutting the miserable animals in pieces, for mere thirst of blood."

After London, by Richard Jefferies

Black Wood Dogs
No. Enc.: 2d4 (4d4)
Alignment: Chaotic
Movement: 120' (40')
Armor Class: 5
Hit Dice: 5
Attacks: 1 (Bite)
Damage: 2d4+2
Save: F3
Morale: 10

Vicious, blood-thirsty beasts who delight in tearing their prey to pieces for the sheer malice of it. Black Wood Dogs are highly destructive creatures, killing everything that they can with no consideration to what they can actually eat. They have no fixed territory, but rather once they deplete an area of all game they move on to find another spot to spoil. These feral canines are so mad with blood-lust that they cannot be tamed, only destroyed. They feel no pain, are immune to all forms of Fear, and will attack anything, including the undead, whom they regard as something especially toothsome.

What sets these creatures apart from wild dogs or dire wolves is that they never sleep, never stop moving, and are always on the hunt after fresh prey.

In most cases Black Wood Dogs prefer to eat other wild dogs, coyotes, dire wolves and the like, but from time to time a particularly powerful or vicious outsider will be allowed to run with a pack and sometimes they will inter-breed, though any pups produced by such liaisons tend to get devoured or abandoned while extremely young, almost always in the Spring. Low Land Farmers prize these pups greatly, and if treated well and trained properly, they become very loyal and stalwart guard and fighting dogs who are absolutely fearless in the darkest part of winter and who won't turn tail when confronted by mobs of biters or worse.

Too bad they can't be bred in the Low Lands. They too become sterile or distorted, producing unviable deformities or worse if they come to adulthood in the Low Lands due to the lingering effects of ancient weapons. Perhaps an enterprising family or two might relocate to one of the smaller plateaus in the East where they can raise more of these dogs free from the Low Land taint.

Being practical sorts, certain others among the Low Land farmers have recently discovered that Black Wood Dogs are resistant to the effects of Black Smoke, and that their hides retain this resistance when treated with lime to make stout cloaks...

Source: After London by Robert Jefferies, with a bit of a nod to Jack London.

Friday, April 4, 2014

White Beast (Red Bestiary)

"We perceived something white lying on the ground, but could not immediately make out what it was. At length we saw that it was the carcass of the strange animal with the scarlet teeth and claws which the schooner had picked up at sea on the eighteenth of January. Captain Guy had had the body preserved for the purpose of stuffing the skin and taking it to England. I remember he had given some directions about it just before our making the island, and it had been brought into the cabin and stowed away in one of the lockers. It had now been thrown on shore by the explosion; but why it had occasioned so much concern among the savages was more than we could comprehend. Although they crowded around the carcass at a little distance, none of them seemed willing to approach it closely. By-and-by the men with the stakes drove them in a circle around it, and, no sooner was this arrangement completed, than the whole of the vast assemblage rushed into the interior of the island, with loud screams of Tekeli-li! Tekeli-li!"

The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym of Nantucket, by Edgar Allen Poe

White Beast
No. Enc.: 1d4
Alignment: Chaotic
Movement: 90' (30')
Armor Class: 6
Hit Dice: 6+
Attacks: 2 or 1
Damage: 1d6/1d6 (Claws) or 2d4 (Bite)
Save: F6
Morale: 11

Special: White Beasts Move Silently (75%), and Hide (80%) within arctic or boreal environments, irrespective of shadows. They also gain a +2 bonus to hit if they manage to attack with surprise. They are consummate ambushers. They are also highly resistant, if not immune to most poisons.

Red in tooth and claw, the great white beasts roam far and wide across the frozen wastes surrounding the polar regions of many worlds that are officially listed as 'dead.' These creatures endure tremendous hardship, persist in the face of incredibly daunting prospects, and abide within the barren wilderness. Predators and scavengers, they present a formidable challenge to any who would attempt to cross over into their fiercely defended territories and hunting grounds. They feed upon fish, crabs and other sea life, as well as anything they can run down and kill on the ice such as various types of penguins and/or adventurers wandering about lost after blizzards and the like. Confirmed man-eaters, these things appear to prefer man-flesh to any other sort of meat and will go to incredible lengths to get past any and all defensive measures to dine upon human flesh.

These beasts appear to have survived upon worlds devastated and depopulated by the Purple Clouds. Some scholars believe that the White Beasts may be somehow immune or resistant to the toxins produced by the Purple Clouds, making them invaluable as subjects for study and evaluation by means of dissection and so forth. Of course no one takes seriously the crack-pot theories and half-baked claims that these things are in any way related to the Gnoph-Beasts, any more than they are some kind of aberrant ursine or degenerate 'polar ape' such as the Nickel Dreadfuls do so love to go on and on about despite any definitive proof or evidence of their existence. The samples taken from carcasses brought back by the Parzguin Expedition into the brightest heart f the Glowfield were supposed to have conclusively proven that these beasts are indeed a unique species unto themselves, but most of their samples were lost in a fire that gutted their laboratory and warehouse, so the question remains open and myriad unproven theories abound.

Thursday, April 3, 2014

Bujilli: Episode 83

Headmistress Shael has sent Bujilli and Leeja off to perform one simple errand, so of course things have gotten complicated and they're a bit off-track already...

The carpet was ruined. Soaked with blood. A black arrow jutted up from between the shoulder blades of a body on the floor. It had been a good shot. Bujilli grinned. There was no mistaking that arrow. It still faintly screamed within Bujilli's mind when he reached out to it. Once it had been a demon. Summoned and sent after Bujilli. A disposable slave sent off to do its master's dirty work. Bujilli  transformed the demon into a weapon and returned it to its master with all due respect.

Normally he disliked killing. He'd been forced into it far too many times as a child, having to defend himself against vicious centipedes and Yeren that were always hunting after his skull. And others. So many others. But this one...this sorcerer who sent a demon after him...this wasn't just simple self defense. Ever since arriving in Wermpsittle Bujilli was attacked, ambushed and manipulated at every turn. He'd had enough. More than enough. He intended to get to the bottom of things. Discover who was after him. And why. Then he'd end it. Once and for all. Just like he did with his Uncle.

Bujilli barely stopped himself from spitting in disgust. He wasn't going to do that anymore. He needed some new way to display his disgust.

He looked at the body on the gory carpet. They seemed familiar somehow.

"These baggy, shapeless clothes are just  like some of the Refugees from Girtang or Umbri tend to wear. The embroidered bands on the arms and legs, the thrice-wound belt woven from six colors of thread; this girl wasn't originally from around here." Leeja scowled as Bujilli turned the body over to reveal a crudely carved ivory mask. A leering, lecherous thing, distorted into a disturbing parody of a human face. He recognized the mask. Its lips almost appeared to be moving slowly. A dying whisper?

Then he realized where he had seen this girl before. She had been one of the three assailants he had driven off at the beast pens. He could see the image replayed before him; his Counsel had recorded it at the time. She had been one of the people who had attacked him just after he had first met Leeja. Back when Gudrun was convinced he was responsible for her brother's death and was carrying out a vendetta against him. This had been one of her co-conspirators. Or so he had thought at the time. Gudrun was his friend now. The vendetta was rescinded.

When this girl and her friends had attacked, they had used fire-arms. Old, antique gonnes mis-acquired from Mrs. Cave under false pretenses. They had not used spells or demons then. If this girl had the capability then, why didn't she use it?

The mask sneered.

"Scheiss!" Bujilli brought out his manticore-pistol and used it as a war-club to smash the wicked mask.

It had been casting a spell.

After its host was dead.

He struck it again. Once more. Again.

It broke free of the dead girl.

Cracked. Blood-smeared. It continued to whisper slowly. Casting.

Bujilli cast Dispel Magic.

The mask yowled in slow-motion rage. It's voice dragged out weirdly.

Then it stopped. Abruptly. Bujilli split the thing in two with his hand-axe.

Sizzling green fumes trickled up from the broken edges. Some kind of acid bubbled out of the mask. Just enough to completely ruin the carpet as it pitted the floor beneath.

"The custodians are not going to like this..." Leeja prodded one half of the mask with her crystal stilletto.

Inert. The spirit or consciousness inhabiting, controlling the thing was gone. Withdrawn.

"Poor girl. It must have been the mask--"

"No. We don't know that. The girl was there at the beast pens. I recognize her. I recognize the mask."


"She attacked me. Sent a demon after me. Whether it was her, the mask, or both of them, it's over now."

"Until whomever was really behind the mask decides to try again. that's how these sorts of feuds escalate. I've watched most of my family get swallowed-up by an insane blood-feud."

"I didn't start--"

"No. You didn't start it. But that never matters. Nor does it count for anything. You're caught-up in it now. You struck back. Now it's their turn."

"I'm not playing some sick game..."

"No. You're not. They are. Until you find out who they are, they're going to keep playing at their twisted little drama. Right now they are the hunter. They've ambushed you twice."

"I'm not inclined to sit back and let them take their next shot."

"What can you do?"

"Like you said; find them. It's time I started hunting them."


"I can cast Speak With Dead. For a start." Bujilli knelt down to examine the girl's body more closely. He considered tying her arms behind her back. Just in case. He didn't trust dead assassins any more than living ones. Some were more dangerous dead.

Leeja touched his forearm. He looked up. She gestured silently to the door.

Someone was approaching.

Quickly, Leeja took up position before the door. She was smiling.

Quietly, Bujilli moved over behind the door and requested Counsel to scan whomever was approaching. The pistol slipped back into it's holster. He kept the hand-axe ready. Just in case.

"Zuggara ma'gak."

Leeja glanced at Bujilli. He shrugged. Neither recognized the language. Counsel recognized one person in the hallway. They seemed to be mostly human.

"Uttra? Vab." The door started to open.

Leeja nodded.

Bujilli yanked the door wide open.

Leeja lunged forward. Grabbed hold of the person standing in the doorway and yanked. Hard.

Bujilli slammed the door shut. Leeja let go. Her victim sprawled onto the floor, next to the corpse.

"Al'ak gad Hurk Vab!" Yelled the young boy. His eyes wide with fright. He raised his hand to look at it. Saw the blood. Looked at the body next to him. Closed his eyes.

"Who are you?" Hissed Leeja. Her claws were out.

"Brother. To this one. Ilzinna. Why you murder her?" He started to get up. Bujilli stepped forward. The boy froze.

"So you do recognize me." He held his hand-axe at the ready.

"You." The boy scowled. His features were thicker than normal. His hair shaggier. Coarser. His eyes glinted with the kind of green that a dogs' eyes showed in the night. All of which contrasted with his mottled bronze skin tone.

"Some kind of Morlock." Leeja guessed.

"Half. Mother not Underfolk. She Umbri. We raised in Umbri. Not eaters." The boy looked away from his dead sister.

"He resembles one of the..."

"...Sphinxes that we ran past in Weregall? You'll find similar Sphinxes somewhere around Idvard's Keep, and here in Wermspittle. And elsewhere."

"This place was built by Morlocks?" Bujilli felt slightly ill. So far he had heard nothing positive in the least about the Morlocks.

"No. This place was built on top of ruins. Only part of this place had any sort of connection back to the Morlocks. The caverns that became known as Latterkamp were excavated by a heretical sect of schizmatic Morlocks..."

"Bah. Who are you to talk about such things? Dendo-bitch. You people as much red handed as ours. More."

"I think we can all agree that we area each of us descended or related to people we don't particularly like. So let's leave it at that. I want to know why your sister was sending demons after me."

"Ask her."

"I will. But first I'm asking you. I'm going to get some answers once and for all, or else there will be hell to pay."

"Ha. Making joke. Good one."

"I'm not joking."

"Not talking."

"Fine. Hold him." Bujilli cast Speak to Dead upon the girl's corpse. Glittering red tendrils of light swirled from his outstretched left hand to writhe and curl and entangle themselves about her head, neck and down her back. The scent of pomegranates filled the small room.

Bujilli pulled her into a sitting position using the energetic tendrils as the strings of a puppet. Then he pulled upon her nervous system, using the false fire of the spell to temporarily revitalize selected portions of her brain and spinal column. Her eyes snapped open in reaction to the shimmering stimulus coursing through her body. The tendrils pulled tight, restraining her limbs, trapping her memories, if not her spirit. He felt dirty using this spell. It had been developed by the Fantomists. He still wasn't sure how his Uncle came across a copy.

She fought the red light, but couldn't get free. It in turn constricted with each movement. She snarled, made strange gurgling, choking noises. Bujilli pulled harder on the tendrils of red energy. She settled down. Not quite passive, but no longer attempting to thrash about.

"Why did you attack me?"

"Grandfather asked me to..." She whispered hoarsely. There wasn't much air in her lungs and this spell would not restart her breathing. The caster was expected to either have recourse to other spells in order to facilitate an full interrogation of the dead. The Fantomists never intended for an outsider to learn how to use their secrets.

"Is this really your brother?" Bujilli gestured towards the boy.

She nodded ever so slightly. Barely hissed a faint 'yes.'

"Why did your Grandfather want you to attack me?"

"Test..." Her lungs collapsed. The red tendrils pulsed. Faded. There wasn't anything more that could be salvaged with this spell.

"A test? What kind of test?"

No answer.

Bujilli turned to the boy. Stared. Considered his options. His spells. What his Uncle would do.

"Your sister attacked me. Twice. So I killed her the second time. I could tell you that it was self defense, but I get the feeling that would be a waste of breath. For some reason your Grandfather ordered--"

"No order. Ask. Polite. Grandfather never demands. Only ever asks. Nice."

"Fine. He did not 'order' my assassination, he politely asked for your sister to take my life. Did he ask you as well?"

"No talk. You just kill."

"Look asshole, I'm not the one who started this. I've never even met your Grandfather, let alone piss him off enough to give him reason to want me dead. I never knew your sister, except as someone who attacked me in an ambush. I don't know you. I'm not inclined to just kill you out of hand. I would appreciate some honest answers..."

"You kill. I know how things work."

"No. You don't." Bujilli cast Listen to the Walls.

"Poor girl. Ilzinna wasn't a bad one you know.
She was actually very nice. Kind of shy..."

"Did you overhear anything she or anyone else said within this room regarding me, like why they were out to kill me?"

"You're Bujilli then? Yes. Of course you must be him.
You sound shorter than what they made you out to be.
Oh they talked quite a bit, both of them.
Ahven there is quite talkative, most times..."

"What? Who is that? How do they know my name?" Leeja forced Ahven back down twice. The second time she drew blood. He settled down.

"You won't talk, so I'm asking the walls instead."

"Walls?" A look of perfect dread came over Ahven's features. His face drained of all color.

"It's a very handy spell. Feel free to chime in if you want to say something while I talk to the walls." Bujilli smiled at each of the walls in turn. For a moment he wondered if he should revise the spell to work on ceilings...or floors...

"Ahem. As I was saying before Ahven so rudely interrupted..."

"This is some sort of trick. Like Ventriloquism."

"No trick. A spell. It enables the walls to talk. They often have some of the most amazing things to tell. They're incredibly gifted observers."

"Thank you Bujilli.
You are very kind.
Why we've heard some very interesting things indeed.
Especially recently.

"NO!" Ahven twisted and rolled out from under Leeja's claws, shredding his shoulders in the process. He lashed out with a vicious kick to Leeja's temple, allowing himself to spin all the way around to land facing Bujilli. He looked right into Bujilli's eyes as he spoke dark words that scalded and singed his mouth. His right hand held a rune-etched femur-bone that began to seethe with poisonous green light. His left hand formed one of the lesser Voorish Signs.

Leeja screamed.

Ahven lunged.

Bujilli swung his hand-axe.

But the half-Morlock boy wasn't coming after Bujilli.

The door exploded outwards.

Green flames flared out from the femur-bone to splash across the walls.

The walls screamed.

Heavy, green smoke billowed through the room.

Bujilli hesitated. Went to Leeja. She scratched terrible ruts in the floor with her claws; "Go!"

He let go the fragmented remains of the spell and set off after Ahven.

Then a green column of fire roared through the doorway...

So...a not-so-funny thing happened on the way to the Athenaeum...


We need a couple of Saving Throws (Labyrinth Lord, p. 54); one d20 roll for Bujilli, and another d20 for Leeja, if you please. They have the following bonuses (Bujilli: 8, Leeja: 8; the femur-bone is a type of magical device). Anything over 8 is a success which might help them survive, while anything under 8 is a fail, and tends to be substantially worse.

Another two separate d6 rolls for either of the two to have noticed something just before things got out of hand. Roll high and they spotted something.

Then it's up to you readers what Bujilli and Leeja should do next. Bujilli is right at the door, within reach of the handle. He could do something, but it would have to be really, really quick. Leeja is on her knees and not prepared for much of anything at the moment. At least she's a bit off to the side as the corpse is in the direct line of fire, so to speak.

There might be enough time to cast a first level spell. It might be possible to grab Leeja and dive behind the bed. Bujilli could attempt to dive through the door just under the incoming green fire with an intent to run down Ahven...

If you have another idea or suggestion, feel free to post it to the comments.

What happens next is up to you, the readers.

You Decide!

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Series Five
Bj69  Bj70  Bj71  Bj72  Bj73  Bj74  Bj75  Bj76  Bj77  Bj78  Bj79  Bj80  Bj81  Bj82  Bj83  Bj84  Bj85
To be Continued...

Introduction: The Story So Far...

Starting Page  |  Central Index

About Bujilli (What is This?) | Who is Bujilli? | How to Play

Bujilli's Spells | Little Brown Journals | Loot Tally | House Rules

Series One (Episodes 1-19): Quick Index  Episode Guide
Series Two (Episode 20-36): Quick Index  Episode Guide
Series Three (Episodes 37-49): Quick Index  Episode Guide
Series Four (Episodes 50-68): Quick Index  Episode Guide
Series Five (Episodes 69-Ongoing): Quick Index  Episode Guide

Labyrinth Lord

Wednesday, April 2, 2014

Spell: Strange Big Stone

Strange Big Stone
Level: 6
Duration: 1 night per level, per caster
Range: 120'

Very few non-Bogles ever learn to cast this spell, mostly because it is intended to be simultaneously cast by multiple Bogles working in concert. Once cast, this spell forms a massive, dark stone-like mass to form overhead and to levitate in place for 1d4 rounds during which time it can be shoved into place before it falls into place. Once in-place the Strange Big Stone seals everything underneath it inside of an empty, black pocket of non-space for the duration of the spell. Whatever, or whomever is trapped by this massive stone cannot be detected, found or located by any spell, item or oracle. The Strange Big Stone created by this spell  emanates magical Continual Darkness out to a 30' radius, has 1HD per hit point invested in the spell, per caster working together. in addition, at every 2 additional HD, the Strange Big Stone acquires another +1 on all Saves. There is a base 1% chance of the Strange Big Stone becoming either a Dreaming Stone or waking up into a bizarre form of self awareness as a Thinking Stone. Neither of these things has any particular use or loyalty for their creators...