xp_logs | D&D: Tests (Reply)

The party reaches the Dragon's Lair...

Julian scoffed, "Suppose you want a medal or something for finding this place, huh, Gleason?" Keller walked into the cave haphazardly.

Nick just shrugged off the jest with a shrug, his mind was still too far into what his adviser had told him in the cave to break any of his mental concentration towards Julian. Instead he just gave a small snort before slowly pacing forward into the entrance.

Doreen was still somewhat weirded out. Even if this was beyond awesome. This was supposed to be her story, and the whole it suddenly coming alive thing meant that she sort of lost the DM seat, but that was okay.

Because this was awesome.

"We should look for traps," Doreen pointed out, old hand at gaming that she was. There were always traps.

"And we should decide the order in which we go in, yes?" Yvette suggested. She remembered reading somewhere that marching order was important, in case of ambush. "The rogue and the tanks in the front, in case there is trouble? I can stay in the back, in case anyone is hurt and needs healing."

"I'll be right in front of you then, Yvette", said Nico as she peeked inside the room carefully for a moment. In a way, this was her fault, and she wanted to get the staff and get the hell out of there.

Artie gestured that he'd go behind Yvette and stared around, amazed. A hologram flashed up in front of him and showed Fred in the lead, while rocks fell and stakes stabbed at him and Fred, meanwhile, was unharmed.

Meggan nodded, completely in agreement with the plan. “Good idea. I’ll be around the middle, then,” Meggan added as she looked around. This whole thing really was spectacular.

"Should I just wait then, or am I a tank?" Julian queried from inside the cavern.

"Oh, you are definitely the tank," Yvette piped up. "If you cannot stop things with your powers, you can always block them with your head, yes?"

"Am I a damage dealer? Or a tank? Or whatever. Is up front good?" Pixie asked, shuffling up to the front of the lineup. Her purple armored boots made soft clinking noises against the cave floor.

"If anything gets in my way, it will be in for a world of pain," she said, unsheathing her sword and giving it a test swing in the wide open space. It seemed like it should have been too heavy to move with such deftness, but her character was apparently a lot stronger than her real self, and trained in fighting too.

"I am a rogue yes?" Catseye mused, moving up to the front of the group, "so I will go up front and be sneaky and look for traps and locks to pick and things to steal!"

"I am a druid," Klara said, trying to remember what the books had said about druids in D&D exactly. "So that means...I heal? And change into animals?" she asked, looking around for confirmation from her friends.

Artie nodded and nudged Klara into the centre of the group. He mimed shooting her and then pointed to everyone else and drew a finger across his throat. He knew how these things went - he'd watched tv. Kill the healer, you might as well stick targets on everyone else's back.

Julian shrugged and continued to saunter in. Suddenly there was a click and a pregnant pause in the air as everyone stopped in their tracks. Then there was a slight rumble and the floor gave way to darkness.

Darkness surrounded him with the exception of the small patch of light cast by the dying torch. Far above him he could still see the faint outline of sunlight from where the floor had given way. With a small exertion of energy, Julian made his hands glow and eventually found some rocks to float around- adding to the dim light.

"Neat trick, that is, hrmm." said a crackling voice from behind him.

Julian immidiately drew he sword and spun around, only to be faced with a small creature who could only be described as...Yoda? "Who are you?" he asked before nervously looking around, "and where are my friends?"

"Before enter the dragon's tomb, you can. A test, you must pass, hrmm?" the little green creature with pointed ears chuckled as it faded away into the darkness, yet it's voice remained. "To slay, you must, this creature of metal."

Julian was about to ask what that meant when a large clank sounded behind him and he was forced to spin again, this time facing down a ten foot tall creature made of iron, with a smoke stack on the back which billowed white steam. "You've got to be-" was all he had time to get out as the creature smashed a huge hand down on ground where he'd been standing. There were no lines of force, but Julian wasn't overly concerned about not harming the giant which seemed intent upon smashing him to bits.

With a flick of the wrist he hurled the rocks he'd been floating at the beast and hit it square in the center of its mass. The creature stumbled back and fell to the ground, Julian smiled, "Earth bending, bit-" but was again cut short as the Golem rose up off the ground and started toward him again.

With a startled scream, the boy began to throw more rocks at it, only to have them smashed into pieces as they approached. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" Julian swore, trying to figure out how to stop this thing without getting killed himself. Then a thought hit him over the head, literally, as a piece of the ceiling crumbled down and knocked him to the ground. With a slight bit of exertion, Julian found a stalagmite hanging far above them and cracked it off the wall, bringing it down towards them and guiding it directly into the monster's smoke stack.

The creature sputtered for a moment before falling to the ground and fading out of existence...then the floor once again gave way and the darkness closed in again.

*****

The blinding glare of torches lining the path was a shock following the pitch black of the journey down. Meggan had fallen through a hole before she could do anything like levitate, but she didn’t know where the others were. She hoped they were safe, as she tried to gather her bearings. Turning in a circle, she saw something she never expected to see in this place.

Trying not to chuckle, she asked, “You…wouldn’t be Inigo Montoya, would you?” She knew it wasn’t possible. A closer look, and she could just see the flickering torchlight through him. She poked a finger through his chest to confirm that. So he could only be an illusion or a hologram.

“I am not Inigo Montoya. You must face a beast in the cavern ahead…part bear, part owl. Beware of its claws, and pass the test…sing and soothe or perish through your lack of care.” With only those oddly phrased instructions and a bow, he flickered and vanished.

“Okay. Sing the owlbear to sleep? Sure I can do that.”

Peering around the corner to observe the owlbear, she just missed the swipe of its claws, levitating up and out of range faster than she imagined she could. She gave the beast a long, wary look from her new hiding place behind a rock near the ceiling, before whispering, “Probably not a good idea to do that while shifted to resemble you a bit, huh?” Adding a few feathers or tufts of fur would probably be the worst idea ever. For all she knew, it could be mating season for the thing.

Stay out of range of the claws while she sang—that was the plan. Play the panpipes a little at the start to get it used to the music, and get it in a calmer mood. If that were possible. Use empathy to tell if it were only faking sleep.

Unless she did a kind of lullaby in the middle of it all, she thought with a grin. Greensleeves and Toora Loora Loora, with some other soothing lullaby woven in there…while hoping with everything she had that the former worked well on the panpipes. Those first two might just be enough to knock anything out for a while. She took a deep breath to focus, and started.

She could easily hear roars and hoots from below…gradually growing quieter as it seemed to become drowsy, hooting more than howling. She was nearing the end of an encore of Toora Loora Loora just to be on the safe side when she noticed the dead silence. Focusing, and determining that it felt calm—no rage, at the very least—she peeked out from her spot.

It was so still…she gradually floated to the floor of the cavern. One moment, then two passed, and it still wasn’t moving to attack.

It snuffled as she began to scramble by, causing her to pause. Carefully she started to hum the same tune she had sung before, hoping it would help soothe the creature back to a deeper sleep. As it finally began to settle once more, she hurried her pace—taking great care to keep from stepping on anything that might make a sound—until she was safely out the other side of the cavern.

*****

Rolling around on the ground, Nick rubbed his eyes. His head was pounding as he tried to pick himself up from the ground. What the hell am I doing here? Nico’s staff had forced him into awkward situations before, but this was one of the first times that his life was on the line for it.

Trying to regain his bearings was awkward for the wolf-boy. This new body was much more awkward than his normal boy’s form. But at least his senses were much better as made apparent by the sudden realization that he wasn’t along.

But as Nick spun around, he wasn’t expecting the sudden company that he saw. In front of him was a boy covered in fur and claws hanging out of a red and yellow Letterman's jacket. But despite his frightening appearance, the boy greeted him with a warm smile and a soft voice. “Hey.”

Gleason forced himself to blink several times. “Scott Howard?”

The animalistic form of a young Michael J. Fox smiled even wider as he stretched his arms out to the side. “The teen wolf in the flesh.”

Nick had to take a few steps back rubbing the side of his face and muttering slightly to himself. “This isn’t happening, this isn’t happening, this isn’t happening…”

But Howard just let out a small laugh. “Yeah, I told myself that at one time too.”

After looking up and down between Scott and the ground, Nick seemed to finally realize that this was really happening. “What… are… you?”

“I’m your guide. It’s my job to come here and provide you with a test. To make sure that you’re ready for what’s to become.”

Gleason continued to squint back.

“What test?”

But Howard walked forward, turning him to where a light had shined down into the empty cave. “How much are you willing to sacrifice to save your friends?”

Nick’s eyes suddenly opened wide as he saw a flesh golem bent over a cowering Catseye. The purple-haired girl let out a few meek squirms before Gleason was on all fours, running as fast as he could towards the scene. But as he crouched and lept forward, the boy suddenly flew through the flesh golem as he and the illusion of Catseye disappeared into a cloud of smoke.

As Nick turned around he found Scott waling forward, clapping slowly.

“Nice job kid. But your next sacrifice may be a bit tougher to swallow.” As Howard began to fade away, he kept up with the words of advice. “Just remember that your next sacrifice may be a bit harder to swallow.” As he is about to fade completely, he spat out one last bit of knowledge. “Oh and the riding on the top of a van thing? It’s a bad idea…”

With Scott gone Nick was left in his confusion, trying to piece together the words of advice from his spiritual guide.

*****

In the dark there was an off scraping sound, a girl's grouan and some words in another language that probably were best left incomprehensible.

Yvette slowly sat up, taking stock. She hadn't been unconscious for more than a minute or two, but she could tell by the echoing silence around her that she was alone.

Again. This was really getting old.

"And what am I, kid? Chopped liver?" There was the scrap of a match again stone and a flame flared, even as Yvette turned large glowing eyes in the direction of the voice. The sudden brightness made her shield her eyes with a wince.

"Who are you?" she demanded with a bravado which came most from her cleric character. "How did you know what I was thinking?" Then she squinted, trying to make out the dim shape in front of her. "Are you a... weasel?"

The match was applied to the end of a cigar and Yvette's companion puffed vigorously on the end before replying. "For your info, missy, I'm a wolverine. Which is the biggest, meanest, oneriest weasel there is." He pushed back the brim of the cowboy hat he was inexplicably wearing and have her a hard stare with his bright and beady eyes. "So don't you go forgetting it."

"I won't," Yvette promised solemnly, even as she was having trouble not bursting into hysterical giggles. I am so going to hell if Mr. Logan ever finds out about this... she thought wildly. "Um, Mr. Wolverine, sir. May I ask why you are here, please?"

The furry creature looked happier at the honorifics and the polite phrasing. "That's easy, kid. 'M your guide. Everyone gets one, for the Test."

"Test?" Yvette's voice squeaked on the word. "What kind of Test? I do not think I have studied for it." It didn't help that you could hear the capital T.

"The usual quest Test. Each party member gets tested according to their skills." The Wolverine looked smug. "Fighters get to fight, rogues get to sneak, wizards get something to waggle their wands at..." He took the stogie out of his mouth and pointed it at her. "Your a cleric, so yours is a test of faith and wisdom."

Yvette gulped. Faith in what? A god she hadn't read enough about in the manual to even remember their name? Wisdom? She couldn't even use grammer properly!

"C'mon kid, no time for stalling." The Wolverine was tugging at her surcoat. "Let's go."

"But..." The little critter was definitely stronger than he looked and Yvette found herself looking at being dragged to her Test. Adolescent dignity arose and she followed along, not wanting to turn up like something the Wolverine turned in. She stumbled along in the dark after her guide until she reached a large stone chamber. She would have expected it to be lit with flaming torches, but there was no need as an eldritch glow emanated from the round swirly portal-y thing set into the far wall.

"It's a Portal," the Wolverine said, rather obviously. "It'll take you back to your friends."

"I go through it after the Test, then?" Yvette asked, watching the eddying lights with her own eyes glowing in response. She received a brief nip on the ankle and yelped.

"No, dummy, the Portal is the Test." Her guide gave her a look of disgust that certainly wouldn't have been out of place on Mr. Logan's face. "You have to pass through it, otherwise you're stuck here. Forever." On cue, there was a grinding noise to punctuate his warning, the doorway they'd entered through vanishing and blank stone wall taking its place.

"I suppise that it is not so simple and just to walk through?" Yvette asked, taking a step away from the Wolverine in case of another bite.

"Bingo, kid. Portals work with riddles, and not the 'knock knock' kind. Solve it and you'll be able to go through."

"And the riddle?" Yvette asked, heart sinking. She was awful at this sort of thing.

The Wolverine straightened and when he spoke, his voice was deeper, more sonorous as he recited words that weren't his own: "To reach your heart's desire, you must discard that which weighs you down." Then he blinked, coughed a little and took a drag on his cigar. "Damnit, I hate doing that. I need a beer."

And with that, he vanished and suddenly as he'd arrived, leaving behind a series of smoke rings.

Yvette sighed and approached the Portal, pondering its whirling surface. Discard that which weighs you down... what did that mean? Was she supposed to have some kind of epiphany about herself and her powers and not want to be different any more? Was she supposed to face her jealousy of Kevin and Jean-Paul, her fear of Nico's strange powers, all the unsaid bitchy comments she thought of when reading the journals? Would that let her through? And even if that was the answer, how was she supposed to do that? It wasn't like epiphanies happened on demand, and Dr. Samson had told her once that people needed their own timeframes to work themselves out. Not some Portal in a pretend world demanding she sort her shit out right now.

"~Stupid Portal,~" she muttered to herself in Albanian, trying to kick a stone towards it with one booted foot. She missed, the heavy footwear and altered foot shape spoiling her aim. "~Stupid boot.~" On impulse, she sat down and pulled off first one boot, then the other, tossing them into the Portal. They vanished, only to come hurtling back out again, forcing her to duck.

Discard that which weighs you down... Yvette looked down at the cleric's outfit she was wearing, the light silver armour, the surcoat with her god's insignia, the gloves, the cloak. More clothing than she had worn at one time since her manifestation, heavy and inflexible. An idea struck and she stood again, fingers moving to undo the clasp of her cloak and letting it fall to the ground. The surcoat next, then the armour, until she was just clad in homespun tunic and breeches. She looked at the Portal, still swirling implacably at her, and groaned. Of course it would insist on baring all.

"~Stupid literal riddles...~" she grumbled as she peeled off the shirt and pants, until she stood before the Portal as naked as a jaybird. Fortunately elves had impractically long hair that could act as a modesty screen, and this particular elf had her mutant power - it took some concentrating, but Yvette's skin darkened to its usual brick red and thickened, individual features vanishing.

"Very well, let us see if I am right." Squaring her shoulders, Yvette stepped into the Portal and was swallowed by the swirling lights.

*****

Doreen shook herself off, holding her bow in one hand and her head in the other. It took a minute to get the ringing out of her ears, but at least her senses were still as keen as ever. It meant she could smell things before her vision cleared up.

And when it did, she found herself face to face with a giant, dire squirrel.

"Whoa," Doreen said, "You're big."

[You're small.]

"Yeah, well, human, right?" she said simply, "Um, I know this sounds weird, but I really could use the help and I think you're really awesome. Do you want to come with me? I'll feed you. And maybe ride on you because, you know, you're just that big."

The squirrel seemed to be considering this and then shrugged, as much as a squirrel ever did. [Okay.]

"Awesome!" Doreen said, "Your name is Mr. Freckles, that cool?"

*****

Artie woke and it was dark. Absolutely, totally dark the way nothing had been since his childhood. There was the sound of water dripping somewhere in the distance and of rats moving, the ground-deep vibration of trains passing, the smell of mould and damp and somewhere, underneath that, shit. He rolled into a crouch and felt for a wall on one side and then the other. Nothing. He could feel a breeze running across his cheek and that, even without lights, had been enough for navigation in the past.

A light appeared, glimmering fitfully before appearing as Batman holding a torch. He shone the torch in a lazy circle, illuminating puddles of water, a crazy patchwork of brick and cement patches. It said something, both about this whole, long, crazy day and the way the tunnels felt that he wasn't startled out of his wits.

“You've got a choice, boy,” Batman said. “You can find your way out, get back back to the surface and your friends or... You can go home. You leave your friends, though, and they're stuck.” The man tossed him the torch. “You've got until the batteries run out.” The torch's beam was already tinged with red. It would, soon enough, begin to flicker and go dark. He vanished, as quickly as he'd appeared.

Artie flicked the torch off again and thought. His decision didn't take long as he spat on one hand and held it up to get a better feeling for the direction of the air. He stepped three feet to the left and placed his left hand on the wall to act as a guide and flicked the torch on and off, quickly, as a guide before setting off, bare feet tapping lightly against the ground. He didn't bother with a manhole – he'd never have had the strength to shift it. But there were a thousand other ways in and out of the tunnels. The cold began to make his hands and feet ache and, before long, he was actively shivering, the light tunic and leggings he wore not nearly enough to combat the chill.

Left at the end of this tunnel and then right, along a storm drain, on the ledge at the edge of the channel, followed by a climb up a slippery, slime covered drain outlet, into the level above, a smaller storm drain. Artie moved doubled over here, well aware that if he'd looked like himself, (and aaaah, don't think about that, don't think about that) he'd have had to crawl. He was breathing hard, covered in filth and soaking wet, his nose inured to the smells before he found what he was looking for, the torchlight now little more than a dim red pinprick despite his best efforts to conserve it.

It flickered once more and died entirely as Artie was working to lever the iron grill off a storm-drain intake that led out onto a deserted, nighttime street.

And then everything went dark again.