Thug Muggers in the Sewers 6/18/23
Table Talk:
A short reminder that my computer (and by extension, printer) are still down, so some of my notes will be a bit on the fly. Also, it will be awhile before i will have the ‘After Party’ Maps up at the end of these summaries (Yes, that’s what i call them, it’s a very dumb pun).
I also gave a shout out to some miniature sellers on Etsy. I received a hilarious sticker with an order from GriffonCoMinis that i passed around; and when i ordered a particularly interesting Mimic from Scatter Masters, the shipping box tried to eat me, and it made my day! Lastly, rather than using a regular Cat mini for the Cat Mimic, i decided to use an old 3d printer calibration print called Cali Cat - The Calibration Cat sense it’s not quite a normal cat figure, and we all got a good laugh out of that.
“I’m afwaid of the monster in the cellar, Thusan. It’s going to eat me up.”
Susan shut her book firmly and raised a warning finger. “What have I told you about trying to sound ingratiatingly cute, Twyla?” she said.
The little girl said, “You said I mustn’t. You said that exaggerated lisping is a hanging offense and I only do it to get attention.”
-Twyla and Susan Sto-Helit —Terry Pratchett, “Hogfather”
🎲🗡️🔔✨🌿
Chapter 8: Here Kitty Kitty...
🎲🗡️🔔✨🌿 Chapter 8: Here Kitty Kitty...
In the streets far above us, it is the night of the Sixth of Mirtul. Families are settling into beds, the Constables are changing out to the night guard, and somewhere in the belly of the palace a crown is finally taken off a weary head and placed on a decorative stand made of antler stained with berries. A few farmers are working by torch and lantern light to finish what they couldn't do in the sunlight, and in an oversized bunk in a barracks room next to the military yard, a very tired half Orc 'thonks' down a steel helmet with two stripes on it before flops back onto his bed (squishing the soldier in the bunk beneath him). I could go on, I could talk about the plant enthusiast student poking some new vines in the moonlight, or the nervous apothecary assistant checking the windows and the racks of possible poisons, or the fussy little waitresses/hostess greedily counting a pile of conned gold coins in a back room; all the things that make up this lively city.
But down here, none of that seems to matter. A tired postmaster massaging a new ointment into the smooth rope worn skin of his hands could be an old folk myth from aliens for all it will help us. Days, nights, days of the week or dates? Pfft! It all just blends together down here in the tunnels and the dark. There's just a few times marked on our internal clocks: "tired, so we sleep'', "awake, so let's do stuff", "hurt, so we should probably eat and rest", and "hey, weren't we supposed to meet with BLANK about now?"
Also, we can't spend time worrying about a dwarf cleric knocking her knotted beard against a punching bag in a church bedroom over and over; we have more pressing issues.
Ari's hand is being eaten by a Cat that just unzipped its spine! The giant lolling purple tongue is about to wrap around and pull her into the cat up to the elbow!
In fact why am I bothering with all this poetic fantasy scene setting!?
We're in the middle of a fight for Sheela’s sake! Roll initiative!
The Cat is up first. Its back unzips more on either side of Ari’s arm, and two long bulbous tongues emerge, each one succeeds in wrapping around Ari’s arm and pulling her deeper into the back of the Cat-thing. With her arm now elbow deep, the Thing’s serrated back-teeth bite down hard. She takes 12 damage, and thinks that she felt some of the teeth scratching against her bones.
Sorin, the brave young wizard, runs away to the far corner of the room (Okay, fine i guess he does only have 2 Hp left, and did just get knocked out like an hour ago). At the mouth of the long tunnel, he turns back and fires a FireBolt at the Cat. It flies true and hits! But wait, in the moment before it collides with the Mimic, its skin turns to a hard stony scale, right around the impact. The flaming magic arrow hits harmlessly on the scale and poofs out.
I kinda wished i’d save the WWE voice for this week, because what Ari does next fits so perfectly into the kayfabe of that universe.
By some miracle, Ari remembers one of her magic items, and slaps her remaining hand to the Rewind Button sewn on her chest near her shoulder. Suddenly the universe reverses. Sorin’s Firebolt reforms in the air around the cat and flies back into his palm with the Mimic’s side hardening and softening again. Then Sorin runs, backwards, across the room. The tongues unwarp from Ari’s arm and she feels her skin and muscles re-knitting together at the teeth are pulled out of her. In a few breaths we are standing exactly where we were mere moments ago when Ari decided to pet the perfectly-normal-innocent Cat… only we all remember what really just happened.
Before the Mimic-thing can try to escape, Cypress flicks his wrist and the enchanted glow of his eldritch Thorn Whip flicks out. The perfectly-normal-cat-except-we-remember-it’s-not-thing jumps to the side, just barely avoiding the magic vines.
Rae swings her staff at the Mimic Cat but misses too, she kicks out, but the cat jumps up, and onto her leg.
Its spine-mouth opens again, the two tongues flying out to grab onto Rae’s arm. Rae dodges the tongues, but not the mouth, as the little beast bites into her for 6 damage.
Sorin thinks fast, ‘okay, I need something I know for sure will hit it.’ He throws open his arms and casts Magic Missile. The glowing thaumic arrows hit the Mimic with three little sparking-explosions, like tiny fireworks. 13 damage.
Ari crosses her first and last fingers, spreading them in a contorted ‘V’ then sticks her thumb straight between them and casts. A Ray of Sickness shoots from her thumb and spears the Mimic for 5 more damage.
Cypress’s Thorn Whip hits this time, pulling the Cat off of Rae’s arm and blooding it with another 5 damage.
In the blink of an eye Rae’s staff floats back to her hand and she swings. It connects with the Thing’s ribcage - or whatever it really has there - with a hollow thunk, then Rae wells her Ki into her hands, preparing to block and dodge whatever this tiny beast throws back at her.
The Cat… runs.
It jumps over the fire pit, looking for just a split second like a leaping rabbit and then dives into the crate of bottles next to Sorin.
Our brave wizard yelps and runs to the other side of the room, jumping over the firepit and looking, for a split second, like a frightened gazelle.
Everything goes quiet and eerily calm.
We’d like to give a big thank you to today’s sponsor, Casper brand mattresses. A better mattress for more restf - Just kidding!
Ari creeps around the room slowly and rolls an 18 perception, but she can’t see any cats. She uses her Cunning Action to be ready to dodge if a cat tries to jump out at her.
Cypress walks over and Poison Spray’s the box of bottles the cat jumped into, but nothing happens (except the DM making some ominous rolls).
Rae jumps onto one of the chests lined up along the wall, and readies her crossbow for the instant she has a clear shot at the Thing.
The Mimic, readies and action that no one (but me) knows about.
Sorin casts Firebolt on the crate, setting it on fire to try to smoke out the creature.
Ari adds to this by using her Thaumaturgy to create a Harmless Tremor in the ground beneath the box, gently vibrating it… The Mimic does not seem to care, or at least no cats come out of the box.
Cypress touches the hem of Rae’s robes, casting Guidance on her and giving her +4 to a perception check. “Can you see anything from there, can you tell where it went?”
Rae rolls an 8. She gets down off the chest and starts rummaging around through the bottles. There is a slapping sound and everyone turns, but it’s just Cypress covering his forehead with his hands.
Then there is a CHOMP!
Rae takes 7 damage, and lifts an arm out of the box. Her hand is disappeared into the bottom hand of a wine bottle. The wine bottle has teeth that are biting into her.
Beaming with pride, Rae waves the hand being eaten, “I found it Cypress!”
“Yeah… Yeah, you did, Rae. Good job…”
Ari groans, “Oh crap another one?”
“What!?”
“Ooooooh Yeaaaaah… It’s a Mimic…” Ari sighs.
“Wait-wait-wait-wait-wait-wait-wait-wait-wait!”
“Hold on, stop the fight. Were you still looking for the CAT this whole time!?”
(Yes reader, that actually happened, and the whole table had to stop to laugh for, like, a while before we could get back to the fight.)
Sorin casts Magic Missile again, and now the half-monster-half-bleeding-wine-bottle on the end of Rae’s arm seems to barely be hanging on.
Ari jumps forward and stabs her Life Steel Dagger into the thing adding 4 to Sorin’s 14 damage.
Dipping his fingers in his holy moss jar, Cypress flings a sprinkling of holy water on everyone, casting Bless and giving them all +4 to attacks and saves.
Rae is done with this. She smashes the bottle on the wall. The Mimic’s tongues lash out to brace it, and it stops an inch before hitting the stone. Rae narrows her eyes.
Rae is definitely done with this. She smashes the bottle on the wall. The Mimic’s tongues lash out again to brace it, and it stops an inch before hitting the stone. Rae grits her teeth. “I said, I’m done with you!” she slams the bottle hard, bashing it rapidly against the wall, five times in very quick succession. (I still think Rae has anger issues)
After the glass of the fake-wine-bottle cracks and falls away, the true body of the Mimic... unfolds… Coils of scaly, muscly flesh spill out covered in tiny spiky barbs. It makes a small heap like a big garbage bag made of flesh.
Rae, pulls out her skinning tools and sets to the gruesome work of extracting some of the Mimic’s teeth and bony spikes.
Cypress, almost on autopilot now that that’s dealt with, goes back to the tea they had been making when this all started.
With a flop, Sorin passes out and leaves the narrative to rest and heal, passing out instantly.
Ari sits down, then falls onto her back with a sigh. ‘I just wanted to pet a cat’, she thinks, staring at the ceiling. ‘Is that so much to ask?’ she silently screams at the universe. She can feel her depression worsening as the tears well up in her eyes.
Cypress brings a cup of tea to Rae. She thanks him, but declines as she sticks her fingers into an open wound trying to get to the root of one of the spines, while holding it open with a pair of shiny metal chopsticks.
Cypress brings a cup of tea to Sorin. He snores and drools in deep meditation.
Cypress brings a cup of tea to Ari. Ari slowly sits up with a vacant hollow expression and thanks him, taking the tea.
With an 18 insight, Cypress’s years of service kick in and they look at Ari; not as a half demon Rogue with a penchant for removing the knee caps for her enemies, but as a young woman away from her family. They see the depression hanging over her like a cloud in a medical commercial, and make a decision. ‘Well,’ they think to themself, ‘it’s not in the open air of a sunny hillside, but Sheela did say to learn to serve, even underground.’ They pour another cup, and sit down on a cushion next to Ari.
As she sips, Cypress thinks and plots a course of clever actions.
“Ari,” he says, looking up at her, “Can I tell you something?” He asks in a soft and open voice.
“Hmm?”
“I’m struggling.”
Ari’s interest is peaked and she sits up a little straighter.
“All these sewers and caves…” Cypress sighs, “It’s not at all what I'm used to. Back home, I mean.”
“I know what you mean,” Ari says in a hoarse whisper.
“I’m used to the warmth of the sunshine, and the cool breezes in the forest, or on the grassy plains where the air is warm and comforting all around me.” He sips at his tea. “But, this… these caves…” he takes another sip. “I mean, the sewers were one thing, it was easy to think, ‘oh I'm just in a building, or in someone's hole’, but these caves… it’s not that they’re cold, but they don’t have that ambient warmth i’m so used to from the sun.”
“Or from the earth.” Ari whispers.
“They’re just clammy walls, and the only breezes down here are warm and damp.”
“Yeah,” Ari swallows hard, stifling a sob, “I know what you mean.” She feels the emotion, like a raw wound pulsing and stinging. She forces her face to stay stony and calm.
Cypress sips his tea, sensing the wound inside her, and getting ready.
Behind them, Rae drags the remains of the Mimic corpse across the floor, leaving a barbaric blood trail across the room. She opens the door to the sewers, heaves the flesh pile out the hole, kicks it, and then slams the door. She walks back over to the corner of the room and waves, “Good night guys, thanks for taking watch.” She sits down on the blankets and throws one over her head. A minute later, the shape of her staff rises up , floating above her in the air and holding the blanket like a tent.
Ari and Cypress sip their tea in silence for a while.
“I know I have to be here.” Cypress sighs after a while, “I know this is where I’m needed, and where I’m supposed to be right now… But still, it doesn’t make it any easier.” He takes a long drink, draining his cup and peeking at Ari out of the corner of his eye. ‘Now the cleaning,’ he thinks to himself, ‘I’m sorry my friend, but this is going to sting.’
Ari tries to respond. To say something comforting and profound… but she can’t.. The words are stuck in her throat. She opens her mouth, but only manages to gulp.
Then, in the darkness of the dying campfire in this underground shelter, hundreds of miles and hundreds of days from her home, the tears begin.
With a hand on her back Cypress, the Daisy of Sheela soothes his companion and begins, “What’s wrong, my friend?”
As the night flows on, Ari tells it all.
She talks about her home, not in the little village, but her true home in the warm lit caves in the second hells. She tells about her and Rae meeting, and her flight from the village. She talks about her fear at not knowing the fates of her mother and father. She talks about her irrational anger at the caves, for not being anything like the ones she craves. She talks about loneliness, even in a room full of people.
She talks into the night, and with each telling, each emotion, Cypress listens and soothes and tells his own little story in return.
Together they wash the wound in Ari’s heart. Cypress was right; like cleaning any wound, it stings and burns and aches. But it begins to feel good, a dull healing ache. Each time Cypress tells his own story, it feels like a bandage placed over the wound, allowing it to heal. They talk long into the night, and as the time passes, the stories change, soon there is laughter mixed with the tears. Cypress tells about a priest confusing his hat for a chamber pot, and Ari tells about skipping rocks on lakes of fire.
And that’s where we took a little break, because i think we all needed a moment. And i’m gonna take a break from writing, because i need a moment. But i won’t make a joke here and cheapen it like i usually do. No, instead i ask you to set down your phone for a minute and breathe. Go ahead and feel that deep ache and relate those emotions of anxiety and loss. Think of the friends and the sleepovers where you grew and healed, and appreciate the magic and the beauty in that aching pain.
Ari and Cypress form a true bond of friendship that night as they share story after story into the early morning hours. I hesitate to say this ‘cures the depression’ because that’s not how depression works, but this pulls Ari out of the stupor and she no longer has the ‘depressed’ tag. They enter that special sleepover haze where ‘I know I'm gonna be so tired and regret this tomorrow’ meets ‘ yeah but this is so fun to hang out with you’ and they hear footsteps.
They turn to the shadowy arch of the Thug tunnel where they hear clanking metal, mixed with the footsteps, then they see a grizzled but familiar old face in the darkness.
Bostra looks into the little camp and sees the wizard sunfished out on a heap of blankets, then he sees the floating staff-tent he assumes it to be Rae. He sees Cypress looking more like a priest than ever, standing protectively in front of Ari, and he sees the tear stains Ari is trying bravely to hide. He thinks back to his early days, campaigning to the south, and the hardships of camp-life. He remembers long nights comforting his soldiers and his friends, and he coughs. With a little smile at the others, he sets down his pack and rummages through it. “Thanks for staying up to keep watch for me.” He says without looking up, giving them a chance to straighten themselves. “That’s good and responsible of you, not many have it in them after a long day. But, you guys are tougher than most, I know that.”
“I appreciate it.” Turning back around, Bostra lights a cigar on an ember and begins to puff. “But you two, should get some rest, now that I’m here. I have a hunch we’ll have a lot to discuss in the morning.”
The 7th of Mirtul.
Sorin is the first to wake. He’s slow and achy as he comes to, as his injuries groan inside him. He’s rested and healed, but he’s still sore and stiff. Without opening his eyes, he pushes his pelvis up and cracks his back pop, pop, POP. “That was a good one,” a voice in the darkness mutters. And then “Ooh, big stretch,” as he yawns and spreads his arms behind his back. Suddenly it dawns on Sorin that the voice is not his own thoughts in his head, and it’s not Ari, Rae, or Cypress’s voice. It’s a deeper gruffer voice that sounds like it saw the joke a long time ago and is waiting for the rest of the audience to catch up.
“Bostra?” Sorin asks, opening his eyes and looking at the gnome sitting by the fire, “When did you get here?”
It is indeed, Bostra. He is sitting on a well worn breast plate. The close shaved sides of his head have a few white hairs that look orange in the fire light. He looks up from the roasting for he has over the fire and stares flatly at Sorin. “Well, I wasn't here when you went to sleep, and I am now, so how long were you asleep, Rip Van Winkle?” The edge of his mouth cracks, betraying the hint of a playful smile. “You’re a university kid right, use your head. Come on, think it through, I know you’re smarter than that.”
In stunned silence, Sorin sits down beside the fire.
Raelle-the-something-clever-but-I’m-too-tired-for-it-now is the next to wake. She pokes her head out of the little tent, smells the fire and the food, then her head retreats back in her little tent. The staff rises higher into the air, and we see the bumping shapes of elbows and knees as she redresses and readjusts herself. Then the staff tilts, and the sheet falls away. “Morning Bostra,” She says as she steps forward to the fire.
“Morning Rae.”
She walks over to the campfire, and stares at the food on the end of Bostra’s roasting fork.
“I noticed the drag marks and the bloody trail on the ground,” Bostra says, nodding to the trail of dried blood in the dirt, “Are you still collecting random body parts then?”
“Huh?” Rae starts, “Oh, yeah. Yeah, I've actually been making some decent money off of them, I’m starting to learn what parts are really useful.” She nods at the door and yawns, “But, I don’t like the idea of sleeping next to dead things, I mean come on, what if they aren’t all the way dead, so I dragged it outside.”
“I wonder if it’s still there..”
“Did you see it when you came in last night?”
“No,” Bostra says thoughtfully, pointing at the longer tunnel, “I came in the other way.”
Cypress Whichhazel is the next to wake. They nod to Bostra, and look at the food. On the end of the long iron fork Bostra is holding over the fire are a few miniature logs. They’re about the size and shape of hotdogs, but they are covered all around in a rough bark-like skin, with little twisted ends. The smell rising off them is like... lilac. Lilac flowers mixed with grilling watermelon. Cypress raises an eyebrow in a silent question to Bostra.
“Blogs.” The old campaigner answers. “Breakfast Logs, if you want to get technical, but no one who's ever eaten one in a swampy trench after two days of rainwater soup will ever call them that. Good, old Blogs, just like yer momma used to ration.” He chuckles and reaches into his bag, “I'll put a few more on for the rest of you. Who all wants one?”
Sarah from the other room as she leaves to the restroom: “I licked an electric purple potato, are you kidding me! I definitely want to try a bark-hotdog!”
Cypress starts adding some bread around the hearth stones to toast, and gets the pot ready for tea.
Ari is the last one to wake. She is dreaming of the early days when her family first came to this realm and saw the cultivated little flower pots and disgustingly charming little flower gardeners. She remembers the smell of lilac and then wakes up, grimacing to realize the smell is actually real. She sighs and yawns and, a little embarrassed as last night all trickles back into her memory, she takes a seat at the fire.
The Blogs are… unexpected. Bostra wolfed down 3 in a single go, but the Thug Muggers took the warmed bread and cut them into little hotdog-buns. The surprise was instant. The Blogs didn’t taste like wood, or crack in the mouth like wood, it was like biting into a regular sausage…if the sausage maker was a sociopath and filled the links with sand and gravel. Once you get past how hard the chewing is the taste of Orange Juice and Peanuts is the second surprise.
After two bites, Sorin holds his out, and coughing, asks, “anyone want the rest of-”
Rae snatches it up hungrily.
Despite the texture, and the taste, the Blogs are pretty good. Somehow they hit the stomach like eating a full bacon and eggs country breakfast. Ari and Cypress each feel better and get +2 temporary Hp, Sorin (only eating a half) gets 1 temp Hp, and Rae (from finishing his other half) gets 3 temporary HP.
For this summary, we’ll go ahead and skip the recap that everyone gave Bostra. If you are interested in the full details, just Click Here.
“I see...” Bostra says, tapping out the remaining stump of a cigar that was fresh when they started their story on the hearth rocks. “I suppose now it’s my turn.” He takes a long draft from his water skin and begins, “Let me tell you why I was late meeting you here…
“I had intended to be here in the early evening. In fact, when I first got Sorin’s Message, I started packing almost immediately, Only setting a few simple traps behind me in case any Thugs came back to that particular den. After I had all the traps set I went as quick as I could, through the tunnels to Pulgrok’s office. It was slow going, since I have to be sure I’m out of sight and don’t leave any sign when I’m down here.
“When I got to the door to his office I had to stop, the sounds on the other side were like a fight or something. After I determined no one else was around, I finally went in, and well… To put it bluntly the man was completely tadding out (A common phrase used by Bollywogs, Grung, etc. it’s shortened from the phrase ‘like a tadpole on dry land’ to refer to a frantic and haphazard behavior of someone who is desperate and on edge). He was rushing back and forth, pacing, looking through folders, paging at books, talking to himself, the works. I don’t even think he realized I was there until I spoke up asking him what was wrong…”
‘What’s wrong? *croak* What’s WroNG!? Oh who knows, who knows, that’s just it it, isn’t it, whoknowsanything, huh? Huh? Huh? WhoKnowsWhere *croalk* SheIs, OrWhere *CROAK* HeIsForThatMatter! Is, was, was, is, Oh dear heavenly-’
‘Stop! Breathe, man.’
‘Breathe, breathe, right, got it, breathe, breathe, breathe’ *loud inhaling for 20 seconds*
“I may have had to splash some water on him, but who can really remember.
*Bostra upending a water bareilly over the Frog-man*
*Breathing out* ‘Thank you.’
‘Feel better there?’
‘Yes.*errrup* Thank you, Mister Bostra.’
‘Good, now then, what happened?’
‘It’s Belgruse, Mister Bostra, she has *Croak* Gone MISSING!’
‘Hmm.. missing that’s-’
‘NO! Not just ‘missing’ - she’s Gone MISSING!’
‘?’
‘Do you remember the report you helping me *croak* make for RhenDū?’
‘Yes.’
‘How they had been acting strange, neglecting duties, been unconmunicaticti*croak*uncomunic*croak*uncomunicatucic*croak* not been talking? He would wander the halls like he was in a daze and then *croak* he wouldn’t answer anyone, or when he did the answers wouldn’t make sense.’
‘Like when someone says ‘Hello’ and you say ‘Fine, and you?’’
‘Worse. *blorp* You’d say ‘Hello’ and he’d say ‘not that one, the second valve on the LEFT.’
‘!’
‘He started ignoring his duties completely, wandering halls like a *Croalrp* zombie. We caught him moving pipes sometimes and even trying to tap crystals and Mushrooms. Then.. *sad croak* he was just gone. We never found him again. That was around the time when we had to change the Cubes, you remember? That was one of RhenDū’s jobs. I was shocked when the marked day came and went. He loves *croak* loved… *hopeful croak* loves those Baby Cubes you know? He was always so happy when he got to work with them… but he never did come around, and we had to have your people do it. Cypress and them.’
‘I remember.’
‘Belgruse helped them a little, but she had to go down to the *croak* filter rooms to untangle whatever RhenDū had done to the channeling lines. Well *croak* After that she signed off at the Barracks, but she never slept. She clocked out, and *CROAK* just disappeared! Just like RhenDū!’
‘She could have been-’
‘She was muttering to herself for days before that when she thought on one was looking. Just like RhenDū!’
‘Maybe-’
‘*Croak* I caught her standing in the hallway in a daze. Just like RhenDū! And now she's *panicked croak* Gone MISSING just like RhenDū!’
‘Pulgrok… we don’t know…’
‘There was one *croak* other thing…’
‘...’
‘We saw her one last time, not too long ago.’
‘!?’
‘Well not *croak* SAW *croak* not truly SAW. *croak* It was the gargoyle. They felt her, saw her moving in the square rooms, the ones on the second level, west of the Crypt drains with the Gibbering Mouthers.’
‘What happened?’
‘She just appeared, suddenly just *surprised croak* there, like when the Thugs appear from those tunnels. Then a few minutes later she was gone. *dejected croak* but not just her.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘All those rooms *ellipsis croak* the complex of those squares? They’re all gone. The gargoyle can’t connect to them at all. She *CROAK* somehow she severed-’
‘That seems-’
‘Mister Bostra?’
‘Yes, friend?’
‘I need to talk to your team. I need to talk… to the Thug Muggers!’
Bostra takes another drink before continuing, “He told me that he needs to meet with you four. There is an office to the north of here. It’s not far from where his other office is upstairs.”
“RhenDū… RhenDū, why does that name seem so familiar…” Cypress starts pouring through his pack. As the other talk, he looks over the scraps of paper and messages they’ve found. In a dull flat voice he says, “Oh,” and the room goes silent. Over the crackling of the flames he reads ‘with Renny dead, remember we need to be careful walking the sewer hallways now. fact maybe mt those top store rooms & set giant spider eggs just in case. we need to find another company man to “recruit” & fast before [symbol] finds out. find someone less experienced this time. try the stupid ironworker, or that mechanic babe, but definitely not that wizard!” He swallows, “And, ‘Overheard that the Company was worried about how long the JaC’s took to replace after Renny “went missing”, so be sure To get the JiM’s set up down here fast before Frogs catch on!’” Cypress sighs and reads, “There’s one last one: ‘Did you hide the body like I told you to? Remember, if [Symbol] finds out about this, we’re in for a really big headache.’”
After a long silence, Bostra stands and begins to assemble his gear.
“Where-”
“This has gotten big now, real big. I have to go back and make a report to Captain Gaibon.” He tightens the straps and fastens on his breastplate. “I’ll have to meet with Matteo too. I’ll be back as soon as I can, and I'll join you guys when you meet with him. For now, good luck, you have a lot to do.”
Bostra gives each of the team a stern and confident look. “You’ve done good, keep it up. I believe in you.” And with that he heads for the door.
“Oh, one other thing,” Bostra says as he opens the door to leave, “‘Pulgrok told me to tell you this,” he looks back at the Thug Muggers, “‘beware and, look out for The Cradle.”
Dun dun duuuunnnnn!!! Dramatic clos-
“Yeah, I'm not sure what it means either, but he said it was important, so I told you.” Bostra shrugs and closes the door behind him.
“The man in black lifted his hand skyward, shaking back the voluminous sleeve from a tapered, handsome hand, and brought it down rapidly, index and pinky fingers forked out in the traditional sign of the evil eye. There was a blue flash of flame, and their fire was lighted. ‘I have matches,’ the man in black said jovially, ‘but I thought you might enjoy the magic.’”
-The Man in Black —Stephen King, “The Gunslinger”
Table talk:
It didn’t really fit in with the narrative flow i had going, but the team also figured out that the JaC’s mentioned in the note must refer to the Gelatinous Cubes, and that the JiM’s must be Gibbering Mouthers.
We had a question on poison spray, and the effect of the Poisoned state, versus things like being on fire where you take recursive damage. So, i’ll explain in more detail next week, but from page 292 of the Player’s Handbook:
Poisoned “A poisoned creature has disadvantage on attack rolls and ability checks.”
