Links to other sites on the Web11. THE DUNGEON MASTER: The Tiamat-enhanced Fireball cast by The White Wolf has melted the glass of one of the elven tubes. Some of the metal from the canister and around you has also become molten, and Savanna Soux shapes a small portion of this steel into a sphere using her mind. As the minute orb cools, the warrior mentally hurls it at Giant Roach 35. Lamentably, she misses, and strikes the floor some distance away.
Meanwhile Anuril's arms feel as heavy and immobile as lead weights, and fall useless at her sides. The entire elven form of the magical maiden feels as though it is transforming into a statue of said metal, yet as she tries to cry out she finds that her mouth has already frozen shut; her lips sealed by the vile venom of the undead cockroaches. Desperately the damsel attempts to at least collapse into the arms of Wolverine, yet she cannot even take a step. Helplessly Anuril crumples on the cold steel floor, her eyes closing involuntarily and permanently.
Ozymandias falls to one knee, his open hand pressing upon a steel floor he cannot feel. Waves of cold wash over the Fighter's body, slowing his physical functions to a crawl and making him unable to move his limbs. The warrior collapses.
"It must not end.... like this...." croaks Manji, his katana clattering on the floor as his body fails to respond to the will of his mind. The Samurai falls.
*Feel so cold... but I can't quit yet... still got more bugs to outlast.... Someone remind me to kill the Necromancer when we finish cleaning up his mess....* Tim the Enchanter intended to speak aloud this last statement, yet he finds himself unable to speak or move as he falters and collapses.
All who have been bitten by the undead swarm have been paralyzed save the Paladins. Four helpless humyn-sized bodies now lie upon the floor of this cold steel catacomb. Surely they would make quite a meal for the roaches.... if there were noone left to defend them.
The Paladin Wolverine attacks with his holy sword. The blade of Fallen Frost deals 5 hit points of damage to Giant Roach 27, slaying it, and 8 hit points of damage to Giant Roach 28, ripping it apart. As the holy warrior's sword strikes the evil vermin, a great and dazzling crystalline aura of frost dances around its blade. This aura takes a number of shapes, like the heads and faces of various beings, one of which appears rather draconic.
"Logan...." cries out Farian Shadowstorm, "They're undead.... Turn them." The wood elven Ranger then moves back a bit and assumes a defensive position, a little worried at the possibility that all these insects have a Queen somewhere. Because he is parrying, Farian's Armour Class improves from 2 to 0. {The latter being the Armour Class possessed by the Dragon Goddess Tiamat in 1rst Edition Advanced Dungeons & Dragons. -TDM.}
The Paladin Life Force readies his alien long sword and charges Giant Roach 30. The holy knight's slash is a very near miss, but alas, it is a miss nonetheless.
Giant Roach 30 responds by attacking Life Force, yet does not pierce the Paladin's leg armour.
Giant Roach 31 and Giant Roach 32 converge on Zephyr's position. The former bites the heel of the gray elven Thief's riding boot while the latter spreads its wretched wings and flies up to alight upon her chest, yet bites but the collar of the rogue's jacket.
Giant Roach 37 attempts to attack Farian, yet the wood elf swiftly moves to one side and kicks the orthopteran away harmlessly.
As with the other undead invertebrates who attacked Zephyr, Giant Roach 33 ignores the paralyzed Ozymandias who until recently was her guardian, crawling over the fallen Fighter's form and biting through the elven maiden's leather pant leg. Zephyr suffers 1 hit point of damage and feels a deep chill reverberate throughout her body. The feeling of cold is however soon replaced by a sensation of heaviness which becomes complete immobility. The rogue's feet have become utterly numb underneath her, and she teeters for a split instant before uncontrollably crumpling to one side of them. The giant roaches crawl all over her, but the Thief is unable to move any part of her body and is thus completely helpless to resist the ancient insects in any way. They are the last things she sees before her eyes shut of their own volition.
Though paralyzed, Anuril's keen elven ears pick up a sound in the distance which is part hiss and part shriek, yet does not seem to come from your undead assailants. Those of you who still have use of your sight see small puffs of smoke erupt from certain roaches and numerous points around them. Those primeval cockroaches affected thusly are revulsed as though burned by acid, yet you are all unharmed. This apparent attack is accompanied by a voice from the same direction as the previous sound which cries in a low alto:
"Begone! This world does not belong only to Death....yet!"
The remaining roaches retreat as a dark figure rushes into the chamber from some room deeper in the complex.
Congratulations! Victory is yours. You each receive 85 Experience Points.
Finally, after not more than six years of playing, the moment you've all been waiting for....
His maximum Hit Points are now 9, and his maximum Soul Integrity Increments are now 2. Furthermore, the Mana Mage Tim now has access to a second 1rst-Level Magic Spell! He may either use his Electrical Strike twice between rest/memorization periods or learn virtually any other Level 1 arcane spell he encounters and cast it once or twice between rest/memorization periods! This means that Tim the Enchanter is no longer the One-hit Wonder but rather the Two-hit Terror!
You gaze upon your shadowy saviour, though those of you who cannot simply hear the impacts of heeled greaves on the hard steel floor as she approaches you. Said darksteel greaves possess a distinctly draconic motif, and even take on the shape of fins when they reach her thighs. The dark womyn wears a black leather skirt and gloves as well as a thin yet leathery cape like the wings of a wyvern. An ebon crushed velvet choker encases her neck and contrasts starkly with her pale skin, while her torso is encased in a darksteel breastplate and black leather waist cincher. The maiden's head is wreathed in long dark tresses.
{In case you were wondering, a waist cincher is like a corset save that it laces up at the front and is considerably less tight, rigid, and restraining. I have found very few people outside the Gothic subculture who know this.
Oh, and to my femail players (yes, I have more than one): I promise that I am not being sexist by making this womyn so sexy. Soon enough, you shall see. -TDM.}
The burning rain which displeased the roaches so appears to have come from her sword, which even now drips dark acid from its blade to writhe in smoke upon the floor.
When the ebon-clad, ashen-skinned beauty has caught her breath, she speaks:
"Welcome to the city of Kazdreem. Don't worry; the paralysis will wear off in time."
She gazes intently over the party, her eyes pausing momentarily at both Farian and Tim before resting upon the highest-level warrior in the band.
"Y- you're W- Logan, the Wolverine!" gasps the dark damsel, staring at said Paladin. "The holy warrior whom the Empire is hunting as a beast! There is a bounty on thy head of 1,000,000 gold pieces! And you," she adds, turning to The White Wolf, "you're his warlock accomplice! You're worth five (or was that seven?) hundred thousand gold pieces to the technological tyrants! Emperor Geltar wants you both - dead or alive!"
It is a strange and terrifying feeling indeed to know that you are being hunted so. You have always been ready to lay down your life for your cause, yet it is shocking and sobering to learn that the awesome forces of the world's only super power so desire your destruction. It is as if the Empire is filled with gods, who simply by demanding your doom can control the world, and make it rise and twist to do its bidding.
Your Hellishly real reverie is rent by a question arising from Abadon the Despoiler. "What were those things that attacked us?"
"Those were the Dagana Profasu." replies the midnight mistress. "Undead insects from a primal world. They're great survivors: they have existed for hundreds of millions of years before we came into being and may well exist for just as long after we have passed from this earth. But there is one thing even they fear....
How do you respond?
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