Back to the Beginning

 

The Slime Left Behind

Although the concept of time is meaningless to it, the living ooze has been roused. Firstly by the falling gems, secondly by the fat, greasy man and then, for a few fleeting moments, by the delicious pig.

Of course the gelatinous creature has no understanding of ‘gem’, ‘man’ or ‘pig’, but it does understand stimulus and hunger and it hungers now.

Ironically placed in the lowest floor of the tower to be its apex predator, its role is far further reaching than just to control the rats and insect population. It’s a low maintenance, effectively immortal guard that exists in tandem, but on a more ecological level, with the Gnomish mechanical defences. Defences that are of no interest to it and are also totally immune to its flesh-eating acid. Two defence systems working together in perfect harmony, through mutual indifference.

Though deaf and sightless, the semi-sentient slime spreads itself wide and begins to hunt. Sloshing over the edge of its square, pool-like den, its viscous form stretches out until multiple pseudopodium probe all sides of the damp and dark-as-pitch room. Once it eliminates any possibility of any prey still being present, it gurgles slowly towards the bottom of the rough stone steps and starts to flow…

Upwards!

 

Burdened by Tedious Purpose

Existence. What does it mean without purpose? The squat, bronze, crab-like, mechanical creature tests its reset gears and twists its acid-burned, but now functional, claw-arm back into place with a metallic 'clunk'. Despite being fully operational again and free to move along the lower rails, it pauses.

So many tasks! 

The outer Knight-guard had been damaged, beheaded and disarmed.

The four inner Mace-hand-maidens have been sliced open like cans.

The glass, flame elemental prison has been shattered.

Worse, the hidden access rails to the upper levels had been both exposed and severed. Several feet of precious vertical brass rod gone. It will take weeks of constant labour to repair and regain access to the upper levels.

And, although now functional, itself is still superficially damaged.

Blessed, or perhaps cursed, by its Gnomish creators, the maintenance automaton had been granted a level of intelligence beyond that of the others. Their function was simple: 'Kill all unauthorised intruders'. It though, has a different reason for being. It has to be able to, within certain parameters, act creatively and prioritise tasks when necessary. Its purpose is to maintain the scores of delicate Gnomish machines, the other automatons as well as itself. For a hundred years it had merely pottered. An occasional tweak here, a minor replacement there. Easy jobs, well within its capabilities. But in these last few maintenance cycles?

Mayhem!

Tiny, intricate brass cogs spin and the copper springs that make up its mechanical mind, tighten, catch and release under its bronze lid and that alien sense of frustration deepens…

It moves back out on its concealed rail, toward the outer Knight but halfway there, it hesitates and, after ticking moments, turns one-hundred-and-eighty-degrees and heads back inside to concentrate on the inner automaton guards. 

Once inside though it hesitates again, diverts and heads towards the exposed vertical rail at the back wall, before spinning around again.

A small wisp of white smoke starts to issue from under the crab-bot's bronze lid and it begins to spin on the spot as it attempts to prioritise by ease, importance, time and urgency.

Too many simultaneous tasks!

Too many simultaneous tasks!

Too many simultaneous tasks!

Six Month Intermission!

As we haven't gamed since the beginning of the year, let's try for an internet session in August.

Scott's back in the UK but although we're all in the same time-zone now, we're still in different towns/cities. As such, I propose we continue on with our on-line method for a while. At least until we've finished this 'module'.

So far, I'm mostly free for August, so I'll lay it out for you guys to whittle down the options.

Do we prefer mornings or evenings? Due to Scott being ten/eleven hours ahead of the rest of us, we fell into Scott doing evenings while the UKers did the early start. I quite liked the mornings as I'm generally awake around 5.30am anyway but I appreciate it's different for the rest of you.

August options:

Saturday 3rd Morning / Evening 

Sunday 4th Morning / Evening 

Saturday 10th Morning / Evening 

Sunday 11th Morning / Evening 

Saturday 24th Morning / Evening 

Sunday 25th Morning / Evening 

Let me know your preferences over the next few days, so we can lockish a date in.

Edit: We have a winner! 

Barring some personal disaster…

Saturday morning, the 10th of August.

As Scott’s not having to stay up late to give us three or four hours of game play, let’s start at 9am. I’ll start setting up the maps and minis before that though, if anyone wants to join me earlier to chat or test their microphones etc.

I’ll WhatsApp the Googlemeet link at 8.30am.

All you boys will need is your character sheets (including henchmen) and a set of dice.

Bearing Down on the Truth

After camping the night outside the dead Three-Quarterling’s too cosy for comfort, low ceilinged cave-like home, the huge Druid Thornberg ruffles his great bear companion’s thick furry brow and sets back out in the morning. Not for the Goddess Estrid’s magical glade, but instead to his ‘Circle of the Scale’ brother Koenig’s wooden-shack home. He will need to be told of his son’s untimely death.

Koenig; the self proclaimed 'Rat King’! Weirdly, he hadn’t heard from him in over a month. No rambling letters or requests for assistance against the ‘foul’ Human polluters. Another mystery ripe for solving.

After muttering a few incantations to reinforce the Three-Quarterling’s wavering wards protecting the magical pool, Thornberg beseeches the only large tree in the hidden garden for access back into the 'Green path'. The old oak shimmers with deep magic and seemingly splits open to allow the large Thornberg and his even larger bear passage toward the Human realm.

Despite the distance, it only takes a few hours to traverse the network of trees and Thornberg emerges mere yards from Koenig’s ramshackle hut. Sniffing loudly, the oversized brown bear, Bamse pads forward unafraid.

There's no-one here and judging from the rotten fruit and vegetables in what passes for a kitchen, Koenig’s not been here for weeks! 

Thornberg frowns and grumbles to his ever-near bear.

"Could the old coot be dead, and if so, what… or who killed him?"