The quest for the Scroll of Forum Resurrection

I thought he was joking at first, but when I saw the workshop, I realised he was in earnest; noone but Gil Bates would have such a wondrous grotto. There were parts and tools for every purpose I could imagine. Left alone, I drifted, stunned, from bench to stand to bench to harness, reverantly fingering the apparati. If I had a place like this I'd give Bates a run for his money.

Even in such a treasure house of technology, I couldn't quite believe it when I saw it sitting there - possibly the most sought after mechanism in the trade: a decremental planar dovetail. It didn't even look as though Bates realised what he had - could the rumours about him having a technology source be true?

If that was the case he may not even miss it if I- No! To steal from one's host is the height of bad manners and to steal from the most powerful man in Tarant would be the height of folly. Was this gizmo enough to make me a fool and a blackguard?

A few minutes later, Luden returned with the great man himself and a delicious looking array of edibles. I wondered how he heated this giant space - I was certainly sweating.


<font size=-1>[ This Message was edited by: Sheriff Fatman on 2001-12-07 03:20 ]</font>

<font size=-1>[ This Message was edited by: Sheriff Fatman on 2001-12-07 03:21 ]</font>

 

I introduced the good Sheriff to Gilbert Bates. After the proper introduction were made, I showed him the locomunator, and explained what needed fixing. Gilbert promised to fix it up to the best of his ability.

After refreshing ourselves with some sherry and snacks, I checked the time. I choked on the sweetmeat I was currently swallowing. It was nearly midday!

"Come Sheriff, we must hurry!" We said quick goodbyes to Gilbert, who was already tinkering with the machine, looking quite distracted.

We left the way we came in, and headed for the nearest steamrail station - although it was a bit expensive for my tastes, I did not want to let down my fellow adventurers. I could always steal extra funds anyway when needed...

 

I kissed Bunny for the last time(her ability with tongue was incredible)I said:
"Well 'till we meet again my sweetheart"
She just gigled,smiled and waved her hand.Her breasts still n*k*d.Her boobs were the most beautiful in the world.Damn it's sad I'll be long for such a long time.I went out to the lobby and saw Feldon still sleepy.
"Hey Feldon!Now that was good!And did you have a great time?Let's go to the bar and drink a few ales 'cause I see our friends still aren't here"

 

As soon as I exited the steamrail, I saw them talking not far away. I slunk into the shadows of a nearby warehouse and watched them. For the moment I'd forgotten about Sheriff Fatman. He'd just exited the steamrail and from what I could see, looked a little confused.

They then began to move on. I'd have to be careful while I was still in Tarant. I hoped that my adventures would not keep me occupied too long - while my contract specified that I had as much time as I needed, I still didn't want to take too much time. Still, they were better left alone for now...

When they had left, I began to walk to Madam Lil's...I'm sure Sheriff could find it from here, and I could explain to him later if he was overly annoyed.

 

The first thing I like to do after a nap is drink a few pints of ale. I find it removes the gamey taste from my mouth and clears my head.
"Why, certainly, Andrew." We crossed to the bar, and I spoke with the bartender. "Hello, friend, two pints of the house ale. And where is Grogg? Isn't this his shift?"
The strange bartender shrugged his shoulders as he poured the ale, "Me no know. Last him say him go to hims sheep ranch. Me not see him since."
Odd. Grogg had never missed a shift before. I felt uneasy. Normally I sit with my back to the bar, so I can watch the door, but this time I decided to watch the bartender.
"Andrew, would you mind watching the door? I'll just look at those exquisite erotic ovine lithographs behind the bar."

 

I entered Madam Lil's, and saw Andrew and Feldon at the bar. Feldon was ogling some sheep pictures. Couldn't the man get enough of Belle?

I approached Andrew. "Sorry for the delay, but I ran into some unexpected problems. Let's go outside and find the Sheriff shall we?"

 

I kept one eye on the lithographs and the other on the bartender. Not an easy task unless you're wall-eyed. I heard Luden greet Andrew, and wondered at the bartender's reaction. His eyes slipped over Luden and toward the end of the bar. I followed his gaze and saw a fellow lifting a mug of ale to his lips and staring right at me.
The foam on the ale was soooo white and fluffy.

 

I just made it to Tarant and it was a long journey from The Wheel Clan.I saw a guard so I asked him "hey where is a good place to rest and can you give me some directions

"Sure. You can always go to madam lils.And here is a map of Tarant"

"Thanks a lot"

 

Gilbert Bates. Old man Bates himself. The inventor of the steam engine. I certainly had no concerns about the Locomunator, Gil (he let me call him Gil!) would probably work wonders on it. And the dovetail! I never thought I'd see one of those.

As the steamrail burbled and whistled happily around me, I ran through some of the possibilities for the DPD in my head. Where had I put that schematic for the think-o-gen? With a DPD I'd probably be able to build one AND syphon something off for other gizmos.

As I exited at the Docks, I noticed I had lost Luden during my speculations. Damn, I felt like an ignorant heel. Ah well, I'd make amends at Lil's with a drink or two.

The salt air was invigorating as I approached the brothel. I took a deep lungeful, knowing it'd be my last until we exited that pit, and pushed open the doors.

Through the foul miasma, I thought I spotted Luden and Andrew standing together. Squinting around, I finally made out Feldon hunched at the bar, reading a paper or something. Letting the door swing closed I moved towards him through the murk - we hadn't had much of a chance to catch up at the wreck and I probably owed him a drink for the way he broke my fall.

I'd taken no more than a few steps before I realised something was wrong. There was a definite tension in the set of Feldon's normally relaxed posture. That was worrying - he wasn't the sort to ruffle easily, and generally had a good nose for trouble, particularly if it threatened his own precious skin. No need to panic, but as a precaution I slipped a hand into my coat and wrapped my fingers around the stock of my Stunaliser MkIII.

 

Something was wrong. I could feel it in the air, and see it in the behaviours of Feldon and the Sheriff. I continued chatting with Andrew, but my hand started moving slowly towards my knife - if there was trouble, I'd be ready for it...

 

All three of my companions seemed very worried.I checked if my mage dagger was still on my belt.I was worried too 'cause I still wasn't ready for a fight.Still sleepy and now a little drunk 'cause I was drinking my third mug of ale.Hm why are they so worried?

 

The tension was taut as a bowstring. The air was made of crystal, ready to shatter at the first wrong word.

 

The human fellow at the end of the bar was wearing the clothes of a dandy, and yet his face was wind-burned, and the hand holding the mug of ale was scarred. He nodded slightly at the bartender.
Before I could react, the Half-ogre grabbed my hand, ale mug and all! I couldn't get away. I goggled at his evil smile. When I turned back to Wind-burn, he was advancing toward me with a dagger in his hand. Andrew and Luden were between us, still chatting.
"My friends, look out behind you!"
As I fumbled to reach my sword with my off-hand the realization finally hit me: I recognized Wind-burn. He was one of them!

 

The crystal shattered as Feldon was grabbed by the bartender. Judging the potential pressure exertion of a half-ogre hand to far exceed the compresion strength of human finger bones, I knew I had to act quickly.

Without bothering to pull it from my pocket, I raised the muzzle of the Stunaliser MkIII, great coat and all, and sent a percussive cap into the side of the barman's head.

Success! The hulking brute let go my friend. I wasn't quite so pleased with the way he (a) completely failed to be stunned and (b) leapt over the bar at me just as I realised my arm, coat and gun were too tangled to let me adjust the aim much. I stumbled backwards, tripping over my feet and sprawling towards the door, as the fellow (who looked immense from my new enlightening perspective) bore down on me.

 

I was shocked at such quick change of situation.I turned and saw a guy with a dagger who didn't look too friendly.I cast stun on him but put not much effort and he resisted.He then leaped towards me but I dodged and smashed my mug into his head.He seemed dazed but still conscious.I then saw too ugly looking half-orcs coming and it seems they were after us also!We'll
need some help.
"Feldon,Luden cover me!"and I started summoning my ogre guardian.

 

When I was walking down to the place the guard to ld me to a thought I heard a fight.So I ran as fast as I could and Dwarves can not run very fast.When I made it I saw some mean fighting a Half-Ogre

"Hmm?"

 

As soon as the half-ogre started for the Sheriff, I spun, pulling my knife. Leaping up slightly, I dug it into his back as hard as I could, twisted and pulled it out. Interesting. The half-ogre was now missing a good deal of his lungs. I shook the knife to dislodge the residual chunks of meat before seeing the guy Andrew had cracked his mug over.

I ran to him, but before I could knife him, he drew his sword and swung it. I dodged back, the leapt forward and stuck my dagger in his thigh. Twist and pull, his leg no longer functions.

I crouched, and waited for further developments...

 

I was just standing in the doorway wondering what was going on and I had no idea if I should attack anyone

"HEY!!!!!What is going on here?????"

 

I had no time to explain to the fellow in the doorway what was happening.

"A fight. What does it look like" was the only reply I could manage, because then the half-orcs joined the fray, obviously pissed off.

 

The Slug Riders of Garr-din. The bastards who had terrorized my village, killing women and raping sheep. The sons-of-lemurs who had killed my father with a rigged yak! A deep hatred welled within me, and I resolved to chew my arm off to get away from the bartender so I could get at the Rider.
But my shouted warning to Andrew and Luden had an amazing effect: the bartender released his grip and a ghastly welt appeared on the side of his head! Ghastly because it didn't kill him. It just made him angry, and he jumped over the bar, knocking me to the ground.
My comrades were not standing idly by, but attacking the Slug Rider and the bartender in earnest. The enemies would soon be out of commission.
I heard a shout from the doorway, and saw a Dwarf trying to trip up the Sheriff. The Dwarf wore the medallioin of the Slug Riders!
"Ewe killed my Daddeeee!" I screamed, as I finally regained my feet. My sword was drawn. The Dwarf must die.
Then the Half-orcs arrived.


<font size=-1>[ This Message was edited by: Feldon Kane on 2001-12-08 16:40 ]</font>