Fiction SoB-The Legions of Los'tmabo'tl-FINISHED AT LAST (1st draft)

Re: Spawning of Bob - The Legions of Los'tmabo'tl - Ch13.1 v

Seeing as how I have been awake for ninteen hours and my current road trip has at least another thirteen hours to go, I doubt it. If anything I'll probably get worse.

 

Re: Spawning of Bob - The Legions of Los'tmabo'tl - Ch13.1 v

Holy cow! I love it!

Been busy with work and just read it all the way through. I laughed out loud many times, thank you, I needed that!

Sushi! Chuck Norris! She turned me into a Newt!

Keep it coming! or should I say GAWK!
Len

 

Re: Spawning of Bob - The Legions of Los'tmabo'tl - Ch13.2 v

More of chapter 13 Da Bloo Shaman inserted.

What will happen to the Rychek? How will I get rid of Len before he poops on Joe's head? Where has Caneghem got to? Why did I embark on this exercise? Is size actually important after all? How on earth will I tie this all up? Where are the High Elves and Bretonnians going to fit in? Why don't I even care about the Empire? Which other characters from Lustria-Online will I introduce because I am too lazy to come up with original names? Are all these questions rhetorical or am I actually crying out for help?

Stay tooned to find out in........

The rest of chapter 13!

I suspect chapters 14, 15, 16 and 17 might also provide some answers. If it goes much further than that, I apologize. The Old Ones made me do it. I honestly have no idea what's going on. Particularly with respect to chapter 14.

 

Re: Spawning of Bob - The Legions of Los'tmabo'tl - Ch13.2 v

Back in Ch 9. Tell me why I don't like Monday.

The Boomtown Rats. I haven't heard that song in a long, long time so I think I just read right over it. Very clever how you worked that in though.

 

Re: Spawning of Bob - The Legions of Los'tmabo'tl - Ch13.2 v

That doesn't count. You've already got a cameo!

 

Re: Spawning of Bob - The Legions of Los'tmabo'tl - Ch13.2 v

LOL
THE SHAMAN CONTEST.

 

Re: Spawning of Bob - The Legions of Los'tmabo'tl - Ch13.3 v

Another section added to chapter 13. These chapters are getting exponentially longer as we go. It could be a very long journey to the mountains of mourn.

I don't have a good plan for dealing with the dwarves yet. Can you throw out some ideas / gags / characters that might get the creative juices / jungle poisons flowing?

(n810 will have to work harder for his cameo)

 

Re: Spawning of Bob - The Legions of Los'tmabo'tl - Ch13.3 v

Well you have to go for the obvious Dwarf Tossing gag.

Then there are the Oompa Loompas.

 

Re: Spawning of Bob - The Legions of Los'tmabo'tl - Ch13.3 v

bearded ladies jokes,
short jokes,
silly grudges
and rat problems.
unneciary runed objects.

 

Re: Spawning of Bob - The Legions of Los'tmabo'tl - Ch13.3 v

I like the unnecessary runed objects. Rune of Forging on a spork/spatula?

 

Re: Spawning of Bob - The Legions of Los'tmabo'tl - Ch13.3 v

"The Illustrious Runed Spork of Mashed Potato Flinging"
+1 BS skill to Mashed Potato Flinging
*also causes hatred against Skaven

"The Comfy Chair of Enjoyable Siting"
+1 toughness while seated
-5 initiave & -10 movement

"Bugmans Brewhouse Boilermaker Beer Bong"
+3 initave
*all movement is random
gains frenzy and hatred
must charge nearest unit, friend of foe"
make a toughness test at the begining of each phase
you fail all of your stats become 1 and you may not attack;
as you have passd out

 

Re: Spawning of Bob - The Legions of Los'tmabo'tl - Ch13.3 v

Just caught up to the story, it's great to have the spawning of bob waiting for me after a long week ^^
In relation to dwarf jokes, I would love some sort issue with the lizard not having beards, or by coincidence getting something like beards. It might also be funny if the "size don't matter" thing caught on with the dwarfs as well, looking forward to the next installment!

 

Re: Spawning of Bob - The Legions of Los'tmabo'tl - Ch13 don

Sorry to keep y'all waiting. Especially Caneghem. He must be ready for an update.

And so Rychek is back to normal. He might need to change his signature tag. We've lost Len too, and not a moment to soon - "A mine is no place for an Ibis, Len."

Thanks for the dwarf tips, they've helped a lot. Anything else about stunties?

SoB

 

Re: Spawning of Bob - The Legions of Los'tmabo'tl - Ch13 don

The sig stays until you give me something better to replace it with Bob.

 

Re: Spawning of Bob - The Legions of Los'tmabo'tl - Ch13 don

At least correct the missing "he"( Just before "waved")

People will think you are n810 or something.

 

Re: Spawning of Bob - The Legions of Los'tmabo'tl - Ch13 don

Naw. I have a better solution.

Quote tags and a new sig!

 

Re: Spawning of Bob - The Legions of Los'tmabo'tl - Ch13 don

Chapter 14 - Down and Out

Bessie's decorations only lasted as long as it took to wash them away at the first mountain stream. The collection of skulls and sundry other bones were left high in the foothills of the World's Edge Mountains to excite and confuse future archaeologists.

The heroes found themselves on a rough, foot worn path which spiraled inexorably upwards. At different times the track would traverse steep ridges, dark silent stands of conifers or narrow ledges teetering on the edge of narrow ravines filled with the sound of rushing water, far below. Bessie plodded stolidly higher.

"The best monster for combat is surely the carnosaur."

"Actually it has to be the ancient stegadon with sharpened horns"

"No, it's definitely the carnosaur."

"Ancient Stegadon!"
"Carnosaur!"
"Ancient Stegadon!"
"Carnosaur!"
"Troglodon!"
"Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!" The entire crew dissolved in fits of laughter.
"No, but seriously now Mahtis....."

(image)

The trail finally led them to a hanging valley surrounded by unscaleable walls of granite. The remnants of the glacial morraine had trapped a sizeable lake of dark, still water. Although their path picked around the edge of the pool the lizardmen could see an interesting scene unfold across the water.

A tall decorative arch had been hewn from the mountain side. The arch framed a tunnel which disappeared back under the mountains. At the opening was a guard house which attended a flimsy orange and white barrier which was contrived to swing upwards to allow passage.

At the barrier were a dwarf, an elf and a dragon. The dwarf was dressed for battle. The only parts visible under the matted hair, beard and gleaming armour were a pair of glittering eyes and a red, bulbous nose. He leaned casually on a tremendous hammer which was embossed with many golden runes. His other hand he held out towards the elf, palm upwards.

The elf was clearly a high elven princeling of great wealth and rank. His cloak was brocaded with platinum thread. On his brow he wore a circlet made of the same metal which was surmounted with an enormous ruby. Not one golden hair on his ageless head was out of place. On his face was an expression of barely controlled fury.

The star dragon was also a splendid specimen. His jeweled scales caught the light and reflected it back in dazzling rainbows. Around his mighty jaws was a gold band sealed with a softly glowing dwarfish rune. Muzzled in this way, the dragon could use neither its hypnotic voice, nor its fiery breath.

The elven prince dropped a heavy purse onto the dwarf's grubby hand. The contents of the purse clinked with a curious "Ka-ching!" sound.

As the dwarf weighed the payment, the High Elf vented his displeasure. "This is wobbery, you wascally wogue! Now welease Bwian!"

The dwarf snorted in amusement as he hefted his hammer and tapped the rune which bound the dragon's snout. The band flashed briefly and disappeared with a puff of smoke. With a gracious bow, the dwarf lifted the barrier and swept his arm to indicate that the elf was welcome to go about his haughty business. The elf leapt upon his steed with flashing eyes and wordlessly spurred his mount to fly away from the den of dwarfish crooks.

Eventually the bastiladon picked its way around the edge of the inky mere. The four lizardmen stowed their weapons and dismounted. The dwarf stood behind the barrier with his chin on his hands, resting on the haft of the rune hammer. His eyes glinted greedily as he appraised the group and their beast.

Rychek stepped up to the boom gate. "We seek free passage through your mighty dwarf hold, to the lands beyond the mountains."

The Dwarf snorted again. "Free? Theere's naught free in Karrak Andstick. E'en the airre isn'ae free!"

"Then how are we to breathe?" Rychek was taken aback.

"Weel.... Ye can prepay a standard paackage, which'll gi' yoo a set noomber o' breaths. That's a canny deal that'un, ye also get oonlimited yawns after eight of the clock. Ken ye though, if ye exceed yer allotment, or after thirty days, ye'll expire."

Rychek considered gasping, but reasoned that that might be an expensive option. Instead he held his breath and listened on.

"Most'll recommend ye sign oop for a plan. Ye paye a fixed rate for four and twenty moonths, which gits ye oonlimited standard breaths during off peak. Thar'll be a cap on yawns, but if ye avoid any long conversations with dwarf generals, ye should scrape oonder."

"What about gasps?"

"Och, ye'll be charged by the second for such. Yer moonthly account won't thank ye. Have ye means to pay?"

Mahtis went over to Bessie and returned with a wicker creel. From it, he withdrew two dried ixti grubs and a large beetle which he proffered to the dwarf.

Ka-ching! There was the unusual sound again. Mahtis looked around himself for the source of the noise as the dwarf seized his statuesque wrist. The beetle took the opportunity afforded by the distraction and took to the air with a loud buzz.

Crunch! Rychek swallowed and absently picked a wing cover from his teeth as he watched the dwarf alternately gulping air and flushing red. Upon Mahtis's wrist was a heavy gold bracelet inscribed with Lizardmen glyphs. It was the twin of the one on his other wrist. Snake like torques spiraled around the kroxigor's bulging biceps. He wore a broad collar of enameled gold and bands about his ankles. Gold also adorned every spike which ran in a glittering row from his neck to the tip of his tail.

Beyond its decorative appearance, gold has no particular value to the lizardmen. In Lustria it is too common to be considered precious and too soft to be useful in making tools. On the morning that the Slann Lord Taisteslaikch’ken had been abducted, Rychek had insisted that Mahtis put on all of his golden adornments and get a clean pocket handkerchief. He reasoned that if they were going on a quest, his little brother should at least look smart, and keep his nose clean.

"Weel, in that case, ye'll have enough for the wee deposit. He indicated a bracelet, which Mahtis removed and dropped in the dwarf's hand. Ka-ching!

As Rychek negotiated, Joe picked up a large stone to throw at a twisted snag out in the middle of the lake.

"Do nae disturb the water!" the dwarf called urgently, "It costs extra!"

"Noo, let's inspect yon beastie!" The dwarf looked in Bessie's mouth and tut-tutted. He lifted her tail with his hammer and clucked. When he climbed onto her howdah he ran his eyes over the gold and silver frame of the solar engine, noting the glowing cube.

"Yon'll ne'er doo! I'll need to smite a wee rune on yon magicky contraption Wee'll have none such in Karak Andstick!."

"What? Its rather valuable, and the Old Ones might still need it for the Great Plan...." Rychek fussed.

"Did ye nae see the pointy eared laird's dragon beastie? I smite on a rune of magic binding wi' ma Rune Hammer o' Anti Magic heere, and on tother side o' the peaks, Gathrin MacLevy o' Customs Anexcise (he's mae cousin) will strike it awa' wi' his Rune Hammer o' Anti Magic, after ye pays the fee. Ye'll hae yer magicky thingy working quicker than twae shakes o' a dwarfish whotsit. I'll send a wee rune to mae cousin to warrn him ye'll be coming."

"Could you please repeat that, slowly?"

"Nae need, nae need!" the dwarf tapped the solar engine with his hammer and a glowing, runed band encircled it. The glow of the solar cube instantly faded, and Chotec's great treasure became an inert lump of metal and glass. The dwarf scampered down, raised the boom gate and waved them through.

"What is your name, that we may thank you" asked Rychek.

"Aye, it is Fergus MacTithe o' Border Control."

"May we call you Fergus for short?"

Fergus MacTithe o' Border Control suddenly glowered at Rychek. "Ye'll be wanting to avoid that naasty worrd while ye be our guest under yon peaks. Ye've been warrned." He turned and stomped back into the gatehouse.

Bessie proceeded up the tunnel and passed a garishly painted sign.

"Welcome to Karak Andstick. Let Cousin Balin give you a kingly welcome! And they call this a Mine!" the sign declared.

As they rounded the next bend Rychek gasped in horror. "This is no Mine!" he declared, "It is a Mall!"

(image)

Karak Andstick was like a diabolical machine which was designed to extract gold, either from the bosom of the mountains or from unwitting visitors. The halls and galleries were of much greater scale than the scratchings of the Skaven Under Empire. Strip Malls alternated with Strip Mines to exploit visitors and the earth itself.

Every way the lizards turned, brightly lit booths beckoned them to spend their coin. A cloud of sales dwarves immediately descended on them to try to sell them a new air plan. It was only after Rychek showed them that they were already signed up for a twenty-four month contract that the pests slunk away.

Rychek decided that they should take the shortest route through the dwarven realm. The only map he could acquire, at a price, was on a brochure for "Under World." This hotbed of exploitation lay in the centre of the dwarven realm. The map seemed to indicate that all roads led to the amusement park, and that none ever left. Despite his misgivings, the skink knew that they would need to run this particular gauntlet in order to cross the mountain range.

Whenever they paused, even for an minute, for Rychek to consult the map, more sales dwarves would appear. They had marked Mahtis as the one with the gold and without great business acumen. It seemed that every time Rychek looked back at Mahtis in his place at the rear of the howdah, the kroxigor had a little less by way of golden decoration, and a little more by way of mass produced, runed dwarven trash.

Bob and Joe were discussed these goings on by quietly arguing about whether it was better to be robbed blind and die penniless in a skaven tunnel or to be robbed blind and die penniless in a dwarfish mansion.

Mahtis occasionally interrupted to show them his acquisitions. "I've got a bargain with this Thirty Seven Piece Beard Grooming Kit with Rune of Smoothness, and the Illustrious Runed Spork of Potato Flinging will empower my attacks with hatred of skaven and improved accuracy with mashed potato flinging!"

Bob stared at him for a long moment. "What's a spork?"

Joe asked, "What's a potato?"

"You don't have a beard or any ballistic skill!" barked Rychek, "come and sit up the front with me and keep your hands in your pockets."

"I don't have any pockets..."

Time passed very slowly in the dwarven realm. By contrast, distance seemed to scream by. They passed an ale house with a sign declaring, "Last Bugman's XXXXX for thirty-seven dwarfish miles!" and their route took them into a tunnel which receded in the distance.

As they passed the next bend, barely five minutes later, another tavern hove into view. "It's been thirty-seven dwarfish miles! Quench your Thirst!" screamed the placard.

Either the obvious length of the journey, or the subliminal message concealed on the sign started Bob and Joe thinking about the long thirsty stretches they had travelled thus far, first under the Great Ocean and then later through the Arabyan deserts. They changed their discussion to one about the relative merits of dying of thirst in a skaven tunnel or a dwarfish mansion. Mahtis was called on to be devil's advocate and speak on behalf of dying of thirst in the desert.

"Rathole!"
"Dwarf Hold!"
"Dying of thirst in the desert is better!"
"No, no, no Mahtis! We are arguing about where it is worse to die from thirst. Can you see that you just came perilously close to AGREEING with somebody." Joe gently corrected his friend.
"Rookie error!" Bob observed, "I'm sure you'll get the hang of it before we get to the other side of these mountains. If we ever do so, on account of us dying of thirst!"

"Shut up all of you! If you're so thirsty go in there and get a drink." Rychek pointed to an establishment with the icon of a foaming tankard hanging from a davit. A smaller chit covered in runes hung below the larger sign. He pulled lightly on Bessie's halter to bring her to a stop.

Bob and Joe pushed through the swinging doors and waited for their eyes to adjust to the dim lighting. This was surely the scruffiest, smelliest and surliest collection of dwarves they had yet encountered. As soon as they entered, the conversation in the room lulled. It seemed that every beady pair of eyes was studying them over the top of a tankard.

As the pair threaded their way between the rough, beer stained tables, they became aware that some of the dwarves had stood from their chairs (it is not accurate to say some of the dwarves had "risen from their chairs". Most were lower to the ground now than when they had started) and were shadowing their steps towards the bar. Bob and Joe sat on a vacant pair of stools at the bar and attracted the attention of the barkeep, who had his back turned.

"Two non-alcoholic guava daiquiris, please. With little umbrellas and strawberries on the side of the glass."

http://imageshack.us/a/img14/4215/guava.jpg

The barkeep span around with a look of horrror on his face. "Och, the Ancestors! Not agaen!" he yelped and started removing all breakable items from the bar top.

A stumpy hand grabbed Bob's shoulder and spun him round. Bob looked down into a furious bristly glare. "Can ye nae read?"

"What...?"

"Yon sign oot front! Can ye nae read? Tis Ladies Night!"

"We're terribly sorry.....madam...." Bob peered at her intently. He could honestly not tell the difference between these specimens and the presumably male dwarves they had interacted with thus far, "…we were short on time, and stepped in without reading......"

"Hark that lasses? Yon Lazard is kellen me short!" She turned her bearded face back towards Bob and Joe. "We'll sort this oot now, or mae name is'nae Randa MacTavi o' Lence!"

(image)

As Rychek kept watch over the doors of the drinking establishment, Mahtis negotiated with yet another travelling sales dwarf. Eventually he exchanged a solid gold arm torque for the promise of shipment of a set of cunningly wrought mystic cubes.

"Thank-you Merrick MacKinsky o' Aylasker" called Mahtis, as the dwarf shyster slipped into the shadows with the Lustrian gold. "Are you sure you got my address right? That's Los'tmabo'tl with two apostrophes....."

Rychek gasped in surprise as Joe sprinted out the door of the tavern. Bob followed soon after, hurled out through a front window. He picked himself up and leapt for the howdah.

"Go go go! Dying of thirst is better!" he cried as a score of dwarfish maidens spilled out of the pub clutching broken bottles and chair legs.

Mahtis swept him up in an enormous (cold blooded) hug. "You agreed with me, Bob! Dying of thirst IS better!"

"Mmph, Mmmph!" Bob gestured wildly at Rychek, who set Bessie moving again.

"I've a grudge 'gin ye, Lazard! I'll nae forget!" Randa MacTavi o' Lence and her cronies were pursuing as fast as they could, but even Bessie's slow plod outpaced them. Dwarf legs are very....not long. Soon the pursuers could only be heard, and finally the echoes of their curses and screeches faded into the distance.

(image)

After another vast distance and short time of travel, Rychek called out, “Stop, wait, wait. I need to go to the bathroom.”

Bessie grumbled to a halt beside a dwarf wearing a clean white coat and cap The cap bore the icon of a three legged stool. He was supervising two doors which had identical bearded images on them.

“Mahtis, give me some of the gold spine decorations.” Rychek debarked and approached the dwarf who was reading the latest edition of "Washrooms Monthly".

“I need a wee.”

The dwarf carefully closed the centerfold. “Ye need a wee what, laddie?”

“No, I need... to wee.”

“Aye,” said the dwarf slowly, “Ye need two wee…two wee what's, lad? Spit it oot.”

“I need to do a wee wee!”

“Och, I see ye noo! Hoowever, there is a wee fee….”

“That’s a relief! I thought it might be expensive.”

“Nae…weell, it is wee bit expensive, especially if ye need to do two, see?”

“And what if I need to do a number two, too?”

“Ach! If ye pay the wee number two fee, ye can wee FOR free!”

“Four? I don’t need to do a number four….”

“Nae, nae, nae laddie. Not four. FOR free.”

“For three…to…?”

“One more time laddie. If ye pay the wee two fee, ye can wee for free, see?”

“I…I think so. What is the wee two fee?”

“Ye can two for three.”

“For free! That’s generous…”

"Nae, there’s naught in Karak Andstick that’s free. Ye can do a two for three pieces of gold.”

Gold exchanged hands.

“I’ll do ye up a wee too free receipt for two at three.” The dwarf tore a square of paper off a roll.

“It’s not a very wee two three receipt four two at three,” said Rychek holding up the square of paper. “It’s quite large.”

The dwarf was getting frustrated. “Nae, nae, laddie. It’s a Laarge wee too free receipt for two at three! When ye pay the fee at three and ye do a two ye're entitled to do a wee too, for free!”

The dwarf shook his head in aggravation and Rychek entered the stall.

A short time later he called, “Excuse me, there’s no paper in here!”

The dwarf exploded, “Did’nae ye keep the larrge wee too free receipt for two at three? That's what it’s FOR!”

“Four? No…..you only gave me the ONE large wee two three receipt four two at three, see?" Rychek posted the document back under the door.

The dwarf was still banging his head against the wall long after Rychek had finished his business, washed his hands, and ridden contentedly out of sight.

(image)

The map on the brochure really was not required to get into Under World. All paths beneath the mountains snared travellers like the strands of a malevolent spider's web. They passed through the garish western gateway and entered the park. There would be no easy escape.

Rychek sat cringing on the front of the howdah and tried to maintain Bessie on a roughly easterly course. Bob, Joe and Mahtis gaped at the overpriced entertainments that hemmed them in. To their left was the Mini Golf. On the right were the Mini Waterslide and Mini Carousel.

"Can I do the Mini Golf?" begged Mahtis.

"No. We need to get out of here!"

"What about the Mini Rollercoaster?"

"No! There is a height restriction. See?" At the near end of the queue of excited bearded infants was a sign with a line prominently marked at four feet and six inches from the ground. The sign indicated that patrons taller than this would be relegated to the same deprived category as pregnant women and those with weak hearts.

"Bob!" Joe pointed excitedly, "Let's do the Snow White Experience!"

Rychek groaned, " No! Why do you need your bed made by an anaemic girl, anyway?"

"Well, let us do the Mini Mine Cart Ride, then."

"Mahtis, we have been riding through a mine for the last three days, for free. No, no and don't ask!"

"I'm still pretty thirsty." Joe hopped off Bessie's back and headed for a refreshment stall. Bob shrugged and followed him.

"Guys! We should stay together...." While Rychek's attention was diverted, Mahtis slipped off the other side to explore without his brother's joy killing supervision. Bessie started to munch on some impressive topiary which had been lovingly trimmed to represent seven bearded figures throwing their dirty clothes on the floor, leaving their beds unmade and drinking directly from the milk carton. A Giantess watched on benignly, holding a dustpan and brush.

"How can this get worse?" Rychek felt his tenuous grip on sanity fraying. (New signature for Rychek?)

"Waaa aaaa aaaaah! Brain Freeze! Brain Freeze! Waaaaah!" Joe had acquired a paper cone which contained a sphere of brightly coloured ice shards. A large bite was missing.

Bob looked on disinterestedly as he attempted to slurp a thick dairy concoction through a thin paper tube. He started to grunt with effort. The further his cheeks sucked in, the more his eyes bulged. He looked as if he was about to do himself an injury.

"Aargh!" Rychek scurried down and prodded them in their scaly chests. "You two go and find Mahtis, I'm going to find a way out. Meet me back here in twenty minutes."

Bob gave up on his thick shake and gasped for air. "What about Bessie?"

"She's not going anywhere."

Bessie had moved on to scrunching on Sneezy's head. A cluster of bearded toddlers were taking it in turns to clamber up on her back and slide down her tail.

Bob and Joe searched high and low. That is to say they searched on the Mini Ferris wheel and in the Dig Your Own Real Mine Experience. They had just finished checking inside a large sticky ball of faerie floss when Joe spied the lost children booth.

They approached the uniformed attendant. He listened sympathetically to their predicament. "Ye should nae fret. Ai'll put oot an announcement on yon tannoy. Please describe the wee bairn." He picked up a stylus and pad.

"Oh, umm, he's about nine feet tall..." The dwarf carefully recorded this fact.

"No he's more like eleven! Eleven feet tall. Midnight blue scales......"

"There more like regal blue on his belly. His eyes are yellow."

"They're more golden really......" The dwarf scribbled out what he had written and started again.

After some time he read back to them, "Name: Mahtis, height: nine or eleven feet, build: muscular or cuddly, complexion: midnight or regal blue, eyes: yellow or gold, beard and hair colour: none, clothing: none. Hee'll be a mite harrd to spot among tother wee bairns." He indicated the crowd of three foot tall dwarfish young who thronged the park. "Noow, I assume yee're the parents of the wee laddie, Mister and Mistress...?"

Bob and Joe stepped apart hastily, "No! That's...urgh...we're not...you know...."

The dwarf blinked at them enquiringly. Joe explained, "We were spawned from the same pool of nutrient rich broth in a cavern beneath our temple city. Our bond is much stronger than the bond of blood. We slithered from the ooze mere hours apart, covered in odorous slime......"

The dwarf was only just suppressing his urge to gag, "Ae'll mark ye doon as "guardians" then......" His stylus scratched again. "Let mae just...." He reached for a large metal cone with a flanged mouthpiece and held it to his mouth.

"Don't worry! We've found him!" Joe clapped the dwarf on the back. "Thank you!"

"YEE'RE WEELCOME!" The hearty slap had slammed the dwarf's face onto the megaphone. The flange was firmly stuck inside his lips.

There was an intermittent thudding sound, followed each time by a loud clang. It had attracted a large crowd of patrons. Bob and Joe shouldered their way through to the front to see a dwarf with bulging eyes and a scarlet face. Droplets of spittle sprayed from his mouth whenever he exhaled. He looked as if he was about to have a fit. With pained movements he handed a large plush unicorn to Mahtis. The kroxigor tucked it under one arm to join a number of other mythical stuffed beasts. With his free hand, he raised a large hammer and brought it down savagely.

Thud! With devastating force, the hammer smashed down on a small pad which was set on a low platform. Whizz! A puck of some hard material rocketed up a backboard decorated with colored horizontal lines. Clang! The puck struck a large dome shaped bell which was at the very top, some fourteen feet up.

The attendant actually wept as he handed over the last prize on his stand. Bob and Joe led Mahtis happily away with his booty.

When they returned to the empty garden bed, they found Rychek anxiously waiting. "Where have you been? To get out we need to go through....."

"Goody, the Grand Parade has started!" With a skirl of pipes and a rattle of drums, a smartly turned out band struck up a painful din and began marching across the central square.

"Excuse mae!" Behind them a dwarf with a tiny dustpan and broom pointed at a steaming pile of bastiladon droppings.

"We need to go through the gift shop, now!"

"The doors look a bit small, how will Bessie......"

"We need to go THROUGH the gift shop." Rychek bent over and whispered in Bessie's earhole. The startled beast snorted and pawed the ground. With a bellow she was off, gathering momentum as she went. She scattered the Pipes and Drums of Karak Andstick like ninepins. The facade of the gift shop did not slow her down one jot. She thundered through the displays of frippery and trampled the cash registers before anyone could react.

They were confronted by a wall painted with the image of a creepy bald guy with a hat. He had smoke coming from around his face. The picture was emblazoned with the words, "We hope you enjoyed Under World! Why not visit our sister attractions, West World and Future World?"

"He should quit smoking!" observed Joe as Bessie smashed through the painting, and the wall behind.

They had escaped.

(Image)

The Under World map could only take them so far towards the eastern gates of Karak Andstick. Going towards the park, two or more routes often merged into one. On the way out, sometimes Rychek would be confronted by three or four options. The chart was silent about the correct route.

At one such junction, a deep voice called from behind, "May we play through?"

A party of nine adventurers squeezed past. Their leader, a tall gray wizard with a pointy hat and a glowing staff called a brief halt. "I have no memory of this place..." He murmured.

"That way leads back to Under World," offered Mahtis helpfully.

The wizard shuddered. "The dwarves have delved too deep, and awakened a terrifying horror."

A fair haired elf with a bow gasped, "....not split ends!"

"No, you vain ponce! Come along, we must not tarry!" the wizard led his motley followers through one of the arches.

Rychek was about to move Bessie along when he heard the slap slap sound of bare feet on stone. From the darkness behind he could see a pair of pale green lamplike eyes appear. "Gollum! Gollum! Did you see a tricksy Bagginses pass by, Preciousss?"

The eyes belonged to a cadaverous creature with pointed ears and large hands and feet terminating in spatulate digits.

"No.......We didn't see any tricksy Bagginses....." cautiously advanced Joe.

"He must be wearing the Preciousss!" Hissed the wretch, and he sprang into the gloom in pursuit of the nine walkers.

"While we are stopped," said Mahtis, "look at this. One of the drums from the marching band got stuck up here." He tucked the bass drum under one arm and began to beat it rhythmlessly with his fist.

Seconds later, there were answering drumbeats and whooping war cries. A party of cave goblins scuttled up like heavily armed crustaceans.

"If you are looking for a wizard with hat, a vain elf, a grumpy dwarf, two men, four halflings and a large frog, they went that way." Rychek indicated with Gork-on-a-Stick.

The goblin chief touched his brow and led his ululating warriors into the darkness.

Rychek shook his head and made ready to follow when the sound of pounding strides and clanking chains made him pause again. A cave troll caromed into view and stopped, blinking at the light of Bessie's solar engine.

"That way!" Four lizardman voices chorused, as they pointed down the increasingly undeserted tunnel.

"Fanks!" The troll grunted as he ricocheted away brandishing a large stone club.

"Let's not go that way," Rychek decided. "It's too crowded."

They took the other path.

(Image)

As they continued over a narrow flaming trench and approached a narrow bridge, Rychek took stock of their situation. "We've no gold left, don't know exactly where they were, and may have caused some slight offense to some of the local population. How can things get any worse?" he moaned.

A tremendous roar like the sound of a cinder block scraped on rough stone emanated from the tunnel behind them. The startled lizards saw a great shadow, in the middle of which was a dark form, of man-shape maybe, yet greater; and a power and a terror seemed to be in it and to go before it.

With a rush, it leaped across the fissure. The flames roared up to greet it, and wreathed about it; and a black smoke swirled in the air. It's streaming mane kindled and blazed behind it. In its right hand was a blade like a stabbing tongue of fire; in its left it held a whip of many thongs.

"Over the bridge!" cried Rychek. He dismounted and stood his ground. The others halted just within a doorway at the hall's end, and turned, unable to leave their leader to face the enemy alone.

The monster reached the bridge. Rychek stood in the middle of the span, leaning on Gork-on-a-Stick in his left hand. The creature halted again, facing him, and the shadow wreathed about it reached out like two vast wings. It raised the whip, and the thongs whined and cracked. Fire came from its nostrils.

But Rychek stood firm. "You cannot pass, Flame of Udun! Go back to the shadow! It's about five hundred metres back, then take the second left! They went that way!"

The monster suddenly drew itself up to a great height, and its wings were spread from wall to wall. From out of the shadow a thunderous voice grated, "Much obliged!"

The daemon of shadow and flame furled its wings and trotted back the way it had come.

(image)

Even Rychek eventually had to admit, he had no idea where they were. Rather than take a guess at the next fork in their path, he called to Bob and Joe. "Go in there and ask for directions." They were pulled up outside another tavern with the ubiquitous tankard sign out front.

"It doesn't say "Ladies Night" again does it?" Bob ventured cautiously.

"No. It says "The Blue Oyster." It should be OK."

Bob and Joe pushed through the swinging doors and waited for their eyes to adjust to the dim lighting. As the pair threaded their way between the rough, beer stained tables, they became aware that something was wrong. These dwarves had well groomed moustaches and wore just a bit too much leather. It seemed that every second pair of beady eyes winked at them over the top of a non-alcoholic guava daiquiri with an umbrella and strawberry on the edge of the glass.

As Bob and Joe sat on a vacant pair of stools at the bar and attempted to attract the attention of the barkeep, one of the dwarves minced over and perched beside Joe. "Hello, Darrling. Ye're new aroond heere. Can I buy ye a drrink?" He fluttered his mascara laden eyelashes.

(image)

Rychek gasped in surprise as Bob and Joe burst through the saloon doors leaving them flapping on their hinges. They leapt for the howdah.

"Go! Go! Get us out of here!" Joe jumped off again and started pushing Bessie's rump to get her moving.

"Which way?" asked the baffled Rychek.

"I don't care! Just go!" Joe cried as a score of faerie dwarves spilled out of the pub.

"Coome back, Sweetie!" The dwarves were pursuing as fast as they could, but even Bessie's slow plod outpaced them. Dwarf feet are very....not well suited to high heels.

(image)

The party eventually halted. There was no point going on. They had reached a gallery which offered them five alternative paths. They agreed that they would each explore a tunnel, then return to compare notes.

Rychek jogged along his tunnel. Could this be the way out? There was a warm yellow light, like sunlight, flickering weakly around the next bend. He stepped around the corner to be greeted by a shout.

"Thay'res the blue daevil who drove puir wee Kenny MacLavatory o' Esse Bend to sobriety!" A mob of dwarves wearing white hats and coats were before him, some with burning torches, some with stiff bristled brushes. "Come tae us ye fiend! We'll shoo ye that the Guild of the Regular Stool make poowerful enemas!"

The skink turned and fled.

Bob did not get far up his chosen path before being confronted by none other than Randa MacTavi o' Lence and her screeching pack of she-dwarves. "I've a grudge 'gin ye, Lazard! Noow try to kell me short, with nae teeth!" She raised the chair leg she had carried with her from the far side of the mountains.

Mahtis had explored only a short way up his tunnel before he was assailed by a dreadful sound. The din was like a banshee wail. The sheer physical force of the cacophony would surely have killed him, had he not been spawned earless. What remained of the Karak Andstick Pipes and Drums had reformed, with a vengeance.

Joe crept stealthily into his dim tunnel. He stuck to the shadows, sliding his back along the wall. Even taking these precautions, he was unable to escape detection. "Yoohoo! Is that ye, Darrling? Aboot that drrink!"

The four breathless explorers arrived back simultaneously. "That way!" they shouted in unison and urged Bessie into the yawning mouth of the one remaining passage.

In time, this passage widened and led upwards. The smell of stale beer and unwashed beards which they had grown used to in the hold began to fade as a point of light grew ahead of them. The light grew in size and intensity until they could see that it was framed by a huge stone gateway which was blocked by a flimsy orange and white barrier. A dwarf stood behind the barrier with his chin on his hands, resting on the haft of a large hammer. His eyes glinted greedily as he appraised the group and their beast.

The party dismounted and stood in front of Bessie. Rychek stepped forward, "Erm," he said glancing back up the tunnel nervously, "Could you please remove the rune of magic binding from our solar engine. Please?"

"There is," the dwarf solemnly declared, "a wee fee."

"No, no, that's all taken care of! I kept the receipt, see?" Rychek held up a brown smeared square of paper.

Bob pulled him back, "Let me handle this!" he hissed. To the dwarf he said, "Look, it turns out we are short on time and short on money. Short e...." he had been about the say "short even on food and water," but had paused because he fancied that he had heard a shrill voice calling "Lazard!" echoing down the passage.

The dwarf's eyes nearly popped out of his head and he stormed around the barrier. "Shorty is it? Ai knew ye were coming. Mae cousin runed me aboot yeer soily manners and yeer magicky beastie."

The dwarf pushed between Bob and Joe to confront Rychek, who stood half a pace in front of Mahtis. "And ye. If ye've no means to pay the fee, then yon beastie and yon magicky doodad are forfeit to the hold of Karak Andstick. And ye can get yeer halfwit brother oot mae way!"

"He aint my brother. He's my heavy." Rychek stepped aside. (Thinking to himself, I set this gag up in chapter 8. I wonder if even the Old Ones get this....)

The dwarf, following the skink with his eyes, did not even see the approach of a large scaly fist. He must certainly have felt the crunching impact on the side of his head, but made no further comment as he slumped to the ground.

"Bob and Joe, get the gate! Mahtis, pick up the Rune Hammer o' Anti Magic!" Rychek urgently organized his troop. "Toss the dwarf out of the way!"

"Nae one tosses a dwaaaa.a..a..a...a......." a weak voice protested as Mahtis flung the border guard into a convenient chasm.

Rychek did not unclench his bottom until Karak Andstick was many, many dwarvish miles behind. An enema of the guild never feels comfortable.

"Those lady dwarves were terrifying!"
"There are worse things!"
"Bob, Joe. Can I join your argument?"
"Oh, this isn't an argument."
"Yes it is."
"No it isn't."
"Yes it is!"
"An argument isn't just contradiction."
"Well! it CAN be!"
"No it can't!"
"An argument is a connected series of statements intended to establish a proposition."
"No it isn't!"
"Yes it is! 'tisn't just contradiction."
"Look, if I "argue" with you, I must take up a contrary position!"
"Yes but it isn't just saying 'no it isn't'."
"Yes it is!"
"No it isn't!"
"Yes it is!"
"No it isn't!"
Mahtis wisely decided to leave the masters to their work.

 

Re: Spawning of Bob - The Legions of Los'tmabo'tl - Ch14.1 v

Thanks Bob! I needed something fun this morning.

 

Re: Spawning of Bob - The Legions of Los'tmabo'tl - Ch14.2 v

I've added a section and completely restructured "Ch 14 - down and out" Don't miss the LOTR easter egg in the introductory section.

Enjoy (but be careful Rychek! Have you taken your medication?)