Malice Jack ponders
Last I saw he was 'flaming' that MegaPope fellow over in the Sunny Godhead Cult thread.
As much as I hate to say this, I know of a certain Kobold that could help us. He and his kin are powerful casters.
Mayhaps this is a curse from the scaly one?! Or his aunt?!
Quick! Someone sacrifice the thief hanging out at the buffet to them!
As much as I hate to say this, I know of a certain Kobold that could help us. He and his kin are powerful casters.
Jeeezzz... a few minutes as a pink flesh and you are ready to go for the kobold? C'mon! RESIST!!!
*tries to drink a whole keg of beer*
Awakens from his cabana chair beside the Jacks' pool, having dreamed that he was a PhD student working on a dissertation about epistemology, he wraps his towel around himself and walks back to the house, hardly glancing at his fine bronze color. As he steps back into the house, he takes in the chaos that has inexplicably taken hold,
Great Jove and his fiery bolts! What in the name of her Britannic majesty is going on here???
Quick PJ! We need that lotion you whipped up!
Panama Jack! We're saved!
Please unlock the doors to your private sanctum and share with us your Avatar Identity Crisis lotion!
*spits beer from the nose*
OMG I can't even drink a gallow of beer on a single gulp....!!! PLEASE PJ!!!! Heeelp!
*freaks out pink flesh style*
How did this happen? Where's Reggie? The Ape?
Never mind, quick, to my rooms!
Entering PJ's rooms, the former Jacks (the DeJack-ed?) are treated to the sight of spacious, dark wood-paneled rooms whose walls are covered with the mounted stuffed heads of every creature imaginable. Through a room that would make any PETA member fall mad and gibbering on the floor, they enter a room of shelves, cabinets, and curio tables that are filled with items from every corner of the former British empire. Finally, they come to his bed chambers. Opening a panel in the wall underneath a painting of a fox hunt, that appeared to be more paneled wall, they enter a narrow stone passage way that descends for several yards. It ends in a 10x10 room, whose opposite wall is a relief sculpture of a gargoyle. As Panama Jack approaches it, its eyes glow red. He speaks a combination of foreign words that escape all hearers, and its eyes go dim, even as its hands release an iron chest. Opening the chest, he begins handing out brown glass bottles that bear a familiar, beach-cool image. The legend they bear reads, "Panama Jack's Magical Identity Restoration Lotion, arcanely energized by the Master Wizard of Celn. All Rights Reserved."
How did this happen? Where's Reggie? The Ape?
Never mind, quick, to my rooms!Entering PJ's rooms, the former Jacks (the DeJack-ed?) are treated to the sight of spacious, dark wood-paneled rooms whose walls are covered with the mounted stuffed heads of every creature imaginable. Through a room that would make any PETA member fall mad and gibbering on the floor, they enter a room of shelves, cabinets, and curio tables that are filled with items from every corner of the former British empire. Finally, they come to his bed chambers. Opening a panel in the wall underneath a painting of a fox hunt, that appeared to be more paneled wall, they enter a narrow stone passage way that descends for several yards. It ends in a 10x10 room, whose opposite wall is a relief sculpture of a gargoyle. As Panama Jack approaches it, its eyes glow red. He speaks a combination of foreign words that escape all hearers, and its eyes go dim, even as its hands release an iron chest. Opening the chest, he begins handing out brown glass bottles that bear a familiar, beach-cool image. The legend they bear reads, "Panama Jack's Magical Identity Restoration Lotion, arcanely energized by the Master Wizard of Celn. All Rights Reserved."
Is this where we lament the fact that we don't have many Jills in the cult?
Oh the hell with it...
I'm restored!
Malice Jack rubs the lotion on vigorously
Thank the shiny metal gods! PJ you are a lifesaver old bean!
Runs to PJ's liquor cabinet:
I'm mixing 'em! Who wants what? A TOAST!
Malice Jack rubs the lotion on vigorously
Thank the shiny metal gods! PJ you are a lifesaver old bean!
Runs to PJ's liquor cabinet:
I'm mixing 'em! Who wants what? A TOAST!
PJ gets the 1st drink! His wizard friend the 2nd. Huzzah!
Man, for a while there I was worried we were gonna have to apply the lotion to each other.
Cool! Nice to have my shiny metal @$$ back!
Cheers!
BTW, I dig the tarrasque head in your room Panama Jack, did you hunt it yourself or at Ebay?
It's great to be back. Thanks PJ!
Thank you, my friends, thank you! Returning toasts with his Dark & Stormy. It's good to see you all back...
Ah yes, the Tarrasque. A fantastic creature of gargantuan proportions. Settling down in his overstuffed leather wingback by the fireplace. I remember it well. We were in Outer Mongolia, before The War. And I said to my aid Reggie, I said, "Reggie, Are you certain the Wayfinder's iounstone was not damaged in that last yeti attack?" And Reggie, poor soul, had come down with a most unfortunate case of Ghengis Khan's revenge. So while Reggie squatted behind a nearby yurt, belonging to the local shaman, whose daughter was a most fetching young thing, I may say. Which reminded me that I had fired my elephant gun off early in the morning to break the camp and forgotten to reload. Reaching into my ammo belt, my hand brushed the legendary fang of Umbagalathinga. Damnest thing, that cursed fang. Came into my possession in the bazaar of Constantinople--before that thrice-bedamned Ataturk went on his renaming spree! Did I ever tell you about the time I ran into him in a Turkish bath...
Malice Jack listens rapty to PJ's ramblings, a mojito clutched in his hand
Hey, Emperor told me of some trouble requiring the aid of a Lord of a Thread Lord?
Ah drat, I'm too late. Why do I always miss out on the fun stuff?
...and then I said to Reggie, well, after that dip in the nymph's spring, (and a rubdown with Panama Jack's Intimate Oil that I tell you I'll never forget--ha!ha!) I am myself again! (Poor Reggie. Somehow he is always off gathering firewood or standing guard when these things happen.) So we regathered the remnants of our field gear and supplies, that the sherpas had dropped when they fled the bloody-clawed Cawaiis of Balatoomba the previous afternoon, and we proceeded to the coordinates that were marked on the mullah's map. Now I don't have to tell you that we were feeling rather churlish with my old friend Abner, who had taken all the whisky off with him to restock his daughter's bar. But, nevertheless, we soldiered on, and Reggie whistled the regimental anthem while I double-checked the horizon for signs that the remaining Cawaiis might rally and return to feed on us. Well, they never did. So later that evening we found the stupa that marked the tribally shared burial ground, and took no time locating the Sacred-Well-from-Which-None-Shall-Drink. Reggie wrenched the lid off of the well with a crow bar, while I lowered...
Hands KC a drink
It's all good. pull up a Barcalounger, PJ's just getting started.
Fixes a new Mojito
Thank you, my friends, thank you! Returning toasts with his Dark & Stormy. It's good to see you all back...
Ah yes, the Tarrasque. A fantastic creature of gargantuan proportions. Settling down in his overstuffed leather wingback by the fireplace. I remember it well. We were in Outer Mongolia, before The War. And I said to my aid Reggie, I said, "Reggie, Are you certain the Wayfinder's iounstone was not damaged in that last yeti attack?" And Reggie, poor soul, had come down with a most unfortunate case of Ghengis Khan's revenge. So while Reggie squatted behind a nearby yurt, belonging to the local shaman, whose daughter was a most fetching young thing, I may say. Which reminded me that I had fired my elephant gun off early in the morning to break the camp and forgotten to reload. Reaching into my ammo belt, my hand brushed the legendary fang of Umbagalathinga. Damnest thing, that cursed fang. Came into my possession in the bazaar of Constantinople--before that thrice-bedamned Ataturk went on his renaming spree! Did I ever tell you about the time I ran into him in a Turkish bath...
huh? oh yeah, carry on...
*goes through PJ stuff while he goes on and on*
Hands KC a drink
It's all good. pull up a Barcalounger, PJ's just getting started.
Fixes a new Mojito
Thanks.
...standing in the cold shallow water. Of course, at that moment, I realized my mistake in having already used the legendary fang of Umbagalathinga...PJ is momentarily distracted by Frat's rummaging, when a bear trap snaps shut on his arm in a trunk full of oriental rugs and silk kimonos. Frat old boy! The humidor with the Cubans is over by the octagonal stand by the divan. No, the divan opposite the hookah. Anyway, as I was saying, there in the dim light we beheld the shades of the Utratabai. Their fierce, pale eyes glowed like aquamarines in the darkness of the well, some 20 or 30 feet further down the passage. At that moment, the kid-goat that Reggie had tucked into a sling around his neck bleated, and I remembered my Homer. Turning and taking the goat, I held it and my gurka knife before me. "Accept this blood and give us passage!" I said to the shades. They moaned lowly their assent, and as the poor beast's hot blood gushed forth into the waters of the well, they stepped aside and knelt down to drink, and we did pass. So proceeding with only the beam of our single bulls-eye lantern to guide us into the recesses...
...standing in the cold shallow water. Of course, at that moment, I realized my mistake in having already used the legendary fang of Umbagalathinga...PJ is momentarily distracted by Frat's rummaging, when a bear trap snaps shut on his arm in a trunk full of oriental rugs and silk kimonos. Frat old boy! The humidor with the Cubans is over by the octagonal stand by the divan. No, the divan opposite the hookah. Anyway, as I was saying, there in the dim light we beheld the shades of the Utratabai. Their fierce, pale eyes glowed like aquamarines in the darkness of the well, some 20 or 30 feet further down the passage. At that moment, the kid-goat that Reggie had tucked into a sling around his neck bleated, and I remembered my Homer. Turning and taking the goat, I held it and my gurka knife before me. "Accept this blood and give us passage!" I said to the shades. They moaned lowly their assent, and as the poor beast's hot blood gushed forth into the waters of the well, they stepped aside and knelt down to drink, and we did pass. So proceeding with only the beam of our single bulls-eye lantern to guide us into the recesses...
Goat murderer. Killing an innocent beast to save your own stupid hide.
*snap!*
Wow, handy toy against the thieves and to pacify itches!
*removes bear trap from arm painlesly and pockets it*
So where are the cigars? on that cute n' frail little steamer closet?
*goes into the sauna, lignts a cigar, strips naked, wraps a towel around...nah, forget the towel, sits don and enjoys the cigar*
Alrighty mate, carry on!
...standing in the cold shallow water. Of course, at that moment, I realized my mistake in having already used the legendary fang of Umbagalathinga...PJ is momentarily distracted by Frat's rummaging, when a bear trap snaps shut on his arm in a trunk full of oriental rugs and silk kimonos. Frat old boy! The humidor with the Cubans is over by the octagonal stand by the divan. No, the divan opposite the hookah. Anyway, as I was saying, there in the dim light we beheld the shades of the Utratabai. Their fierce, pale eyes glowed like aquamarines in the darkness of the well, some 20 or 30 feet further down the passage. At that moment, the kid-goat that Reggie had tucked into a sling around his neck bleated, and I remembered my Homer. Turning and taking the goat, I held it and my gurka knife before me. "Accept this blood and give us passage!" I said to the shades. They moaned lowly their assent, and as the poor beast's hot blood gushed forth into the waters of the well, they stepped aside and knelt down to drink, and we did pass. So proceeding with only the beam of our single bulls-eye lantern to guide us into the recesses...Goat murderer. Killing an innocent beast to save your own stupid hide.
Get..back...to...the...electric...chair...NOW!
*snap!*
Wow, handy toy against the thieves and to pacify itches!
*removes bear trap from arm painlesly and pockets it*
So where are the cigars? on that cute n' frail little steamer closet?
*goes into the sauna, lignts a cigar, strips naked, wraps a towel around...nah, forget the towel, sits don and enjoys the cigar*
Alrighty mate, carry on!
*Groans and covers eyes*
This isn't some petty way of getting back at me for that business with Aunt Esmerelda, is it?
Get..back...to...the...electric...chair...NOW!...standing in the cold shallow water. Of course, at that moment, I realized my mistake in having already used the legendary fang of Umbagalathinga...PJ is momentarily distracted by Frat's rummaging, when a bear trap snaps shut on his arm in a trunk full of oriental rugs and silk kimonos. Frat old boy! The humidor with the Cubans is over by the octagonal stand by the divan. No, the divan opposite the hookah. Anyway, as I was saying, there in the dim light we beheld the shades of the Utratabai. Their fierce, pale eyes glowed like aquamarines in the darkness of the well, some 20 or 30 feet further down the passage. At that moment, the kid-goat that Reggie had tucked into a sling around his neck bleated, and I remembered my Homer. Turning and taking the goat, I held it and my gurka knife before me. "Accept this blood and give us passage!" I said to the shades. They moaned lowly their assent, and as the poor beast's hot blood gushed forth into the waters of the well, they stepped aside and knelt down to drink, and we did pass. So proceeding with only the beam of our single bulls-eye lantern to guide us into the recesses...Goat murderer. Killing an innocent beast to save your own stupid hide.
Oh, now we see the violence inherent in the system.
Bloody peasant.Hey cuz, you help me out? I'm being oppressed.
*snap!*
Wow, handy toy against the thieves and to pacify itches!
*removes bear trap from arm painlesly and pockets it*
So where are the cigars? on that cute n' frail little steamer closet?
*goes into the sauna, lignts a cigar, strips naked, wraps a towel around...nah, forget the towel, sits don and enjoys the cigar*
Alrighty mate, carry on!
*blinded briefly* Please put your clothes back on, FJ. I'm trying to drink my beer.
Malice Jack snags a Cohiba from the cigar box as Frat Jack goes by.
**puff**
So after the sacrifice then what happened?
*snap!*
Wow, handy toy against the thieves and to pacify itches!
*removes bear trap from arm painlesly and pockets it*
So where are the cigars? on that cute n' frail little steamer closet?
*goes into the sauna, lignts a cigar, strips naked, wraps a towel around...nah, forget the towel, sits don and enjoys the cigar*
Alrighty mate, carry on!
*Groans and covers eyes*
This isn't some petty way of getting back at me for that business with Aunt Esmerelda, is it?
*looks angrily at KC* What business with Esmerelda are we talking about?
*looks angrily at KC* What business with Esmerelda are we talking about?*snap!*
Wow, handy toy against the thieves and to pacify itches!
*removes bear trap from arm painlesly and pockets it*
So where are the cigars? on that cute n' frail little steamer closet?
*goes into the sauna, lignts a cigar, strips naked, wraps a towel around...nah, forget the towel, sits don and enjoys the cigar*
Alrighty mate, carry on!
*Groans and covers eyes*
This isn't some petty way of getting back at me for that business with Aunt Esmerelda, is it?
Well, it was after that battle you guys had with me and the Kittens. When Aunty went in there to raise everyone, she wanted to scare Frat Jack and his pals off so that she could work without interference. SO she put a bunch of blindfolds on the kittens, eagles, and the Thieving Wasp, and then...*ahem* Cast an illusion that made it look like she was naked to Frat Jack.
Sorry.
...we stared in joy. We stared in horror. For truly we had traced the well to its source, and truly it was encrusted with diamonds the like of which we had never seen. But frozen in those crystalline walls was a Yog-Soloth, whose slowly dripping saliva filtered through the crevices and mingled with the Water-from-Which-None-Shall-Drink. Either we had the courage of our convictions, or we would return without the vision that was our only means of proceeding to the goal that we first set for ourselves at the Tarn of Atal Chanu, where the maidens had danced as the storyteller, breathing in the hemp steam, told of us the wonders that awaited those who broke the taboo and gained the vision that could behold the way to the other world. After Reggie had secured a sampling for later analysis, I cupped my hands and...
*blinded briefly* Please put your clothes back on, FJ. I'm trying to drink my beer.
Awright awright!
*puts on a sexy furry pink robe*
I lended myself your funnt robe PJ, I hope you don't mind
*offers Cohiba cigars around*
Haw! haw! That belonged to one of the dowager Empress' ladies-in-waiting. Blushing Orchid, I believe was the translation of her name. But that was another adventure. And as I said, it was some time before we regained our consciousness, and even longer before our equilibrium returned and we could sit up, much less walk. The vision tinged all that we saw with golden shadows. The diamonds we had carefully extracted from the walls were dim in comparison. We could understand the language of the insects that flitted about the top of the shaft when we returned to the surface. We could hear the bonds of the ice breaking in the grass as sun rose before it melted. It truly was an experiencing of two worlds at once. When we turned our eyes to the West, the vision wrought its great work. There in the mountains of Harar Iubnau we could see the darkness, a rift into the world from which Sinam had brought the Eye of Singhak the Cruel on the day of Gygax's birth--a foreshadowing of things to come. Thus we set our faces towards our final destination...
...we had fried the last of our bacon. We had brewed the last of our tea. We had used the last spoonfuls of yak butter on the last crumbs of hardtack. Dry, bleary, exhausted to the bone, we finally arrived at the base of the valley. It was only then that we allowed ourselves the luxury of our last tubes of Panama Jack's Restorative Ointment. For if we were going into the rift, we must go in the best condition we could muster. We slept deeply that night, our camp circled by the sacred prayer flags given to us by Lama Kanaburthaiamkhalasu. They must have done their part, for though they turned to ashes when the sun rose, the sun rose not on our mutilated corpses, but on our living bodies, which had passed the night where none survived. Rubbing in the last of our ointment, we loaded our weapons, buried the meager supplies we did not want to take but might want on our return, and tread the path that lead to the other side. We could no longer see the dark that we knew was drawing all about us, as the vision had slowly departed from us until we were bereft of it. But we knew this was the valley, and that eventually, we would find ourselves on the other side. Sidearms, knife, and saber were all loosened for a quick draw. The carbiner hung in front from its strap, and the shotgun panned the path in front of me. Reggie had loosened the pins in his grenades and held him tommy at shoulder as he crept forward. We would not be caught unawares. By the time that the cries went up all around us, it was almost a relief to lose ourselves in the slaughter that followed.
....ZZZzzzZZZZzzz...snort...ZZzzzz
...went the spears of the kobolds. When they threw them, they snorted in their primitive way. We evaded them and continued firing. We missed having our gatling gun that day, what-what! When the barrels got to hot from firing, we set to work with a will, hacking to the left and right, fore and aft with our blades. Only our many years of fighting together and our keen instincts kept us from hacking one another. Their small scaly bodies fell on every side as they vainly attempted to impede our entry. When at last there were none of them left, we knew that we were really in trouble. For if we were through the kobold horde, that meant the malevolent intelligence ruling this rift had in reserve no fodder, and from now on, we would be facing formidable foes, worthy of our stature. What atrocious aberrations awaited us in that dim twilight world? What tentacled terrors hungered to suck our marrow and wallow in our inards? Well you may ask. For we beheld now a glittering stairway zig-zagging up the sheer mountain face before us. Every landing was decorated with monstrous skulls in which we could have easily taken refuge if we had curled up. Tattered banners of some kind of silvery material hung from standards, and somewhere in the distance, we heard massive, low horns sounding. There was a crack above as...
*looks angrily at KC* What business with Esmerelda are we talking about?*snap!*
Wow, handy toy against the thieves and to pacify itches!
*removes bear trap from arm painlesly and pockets it*
So where are the cigars? on that cute n' frail little steamer closet?
*goes into the sauna, lignts a cigar, strips naked, wraps a towel around...nah, forget the towel, sits don and enjoys the cigar*
Alrighty mate, carry on!
*Groans and covers eyes*
This isn't some petty way of getting back at me for that business with Aunt Esmerelda, is it?Well, it was after that battle you guys had with me and the Kittens. When Aunty went in there to raise everyone, she wanted to scare Frat Jack and his pals off so that she could work without interference. SO she put a bunch of blindfolds on the kittens, eagles, and the Thieving Wasp, and then...*ahem* Cast an illusion that made it look like she was naked to Frat Jack.
Sorry.
Hey! That was me! And you still owe 20 gold for the memory wipe!
Sorry to interrupt PJ. Please proceed!
Jack Hammer's eyes can't help but stray to the signs of conquest in Panama Jack's inner sanctum. They are so much different than his own.
he thinks to himself, 'Perhaps I should try one of those pointy killing tools, as my hammmer doesn't leave much behind. The stray eyeball, part of a limb, some feathers or bits of fur...
ZZzzZZ...*... huh?
I better search for PJ's brittish porn collection, word says its legendary
*goes through PJ's stuff again*
*straps Cousin Joe to a chair in front of Panama Jack* Making Cousin Joe listen to Panama's long-winded stories is probably the worst torture I can do to him.
Well, that's just plain vile!
See JRHM, you are violent enough fo both you and I. I come to offset you nastyness with sense...Jack sense for what is worth.
-Here, use these studded leather straps-
Well, that's just plain vile!
See JRHM, you are violent enough fo both you and I. I come to offset you nastyness with sense...Jack sense for what is worth.
-Here, use these studded leather straps-
Oh,thanks. This will work great!
Fixes another mojito and slurps it down, finishing up the Cohiba and lighting another.
Smeshing ... smushing ..smashing story old bean, shimply smashing! Gives you a feeling right where a heart might be if I wasn't a golem.
Thumps his hollow chest and slides down to the floor with a rattle.
Picking up the dropped Cohiba, PJ takes a long drag, exhales, then continues...the rough-hewn granite walls of the inner sanctum--virtually every square inch of their surfaces--were covered, were coated! It was beyond thought how much gore and ichor the bulbous bodies of the vile creatures had held in them before the grenades liberated them from their containers and slicked the entire place with the wretched stuff. The stench of it was so horrendous that both Reggie and I emptied our stomachs of the dried fruits we had taken from the offering bowels in the sacral court, with wracking convulsions. When we could, we pulled out our gas masks so that we could continue through the noisome air. We only had a single grenade left, which you will see was a remarkable providence, without which our escape would have been impossible. We threw our firearms, now useless without ammunition, out the door through which we had passed. We could retrieve them later and sell them on the trip back, if the need arose. The rest of the way would depend on the quickness of our wits, the strength of our arms, and the edge of our steel. Reggie indicated that our way laid in the direction behind the unholy altar, but there was naught there but solid wall. On closer inspection, the wall revealed...
what?...what?...
Wake up Panama! You ain't done yet!
what?...what?...
Wake up Panama! You ain't done yet!
You actually believed that garbage?
You actually believed that garbage?what?...what?...
Wake up Panama! You ain't done yet!
While we Jacks may lie to outsiders we would never lie to each other. Would we?...
No! I will not fall for your mind games scaly one! This is the man who saved us from AIC! And he serves great liquor!
You actually believed that garbage?what?...what?...
Wake up Panama! You ain't done yet!
While we Jacks may lie to outsiders we would never lie to each other. Would we?...
No! I will not fall for your mind games scaly one! This is the man who saved us from AIC! And he serves great liquor!
The man who saved you from who?