New Crests Crisis Convert Concert with a Wind-Blast Upskirt that hits Pay-Dirt

On…

well I don’t really know what day it is; time has taken on a materialistic meaninglessness for me since the kidnapping. But it’s been a while since it’s seemed like it hasn’t been that long when it was at the time since I hadn’t actually been when I lost my friend Oric Bellode. Shame really. I preferred his company to that of almost anyone. For ol’ Oric abduction is a minor inconvenience but for me…the solitude is unconscionable – singularity of two and duality of one – nigh intolerable and anachronistically chronological in unbearable impossibility. Rather selfish of him to go running off without me and the Bennu-Bernard. Tranny had grown rather fond of him in our interim-interlude. Ah well! I know he’s in a good place and glorified by the graces and faces of the gods. The Dwarf ascended a Stairway to Heaven. And I spiral downward in an eddying vortex of callous calumny, slanderous slights, and debasing defamation! I have rejoined my friends and fellow Scions, CrIsis, and it feels as though little has changed.

The immutability of such a group is ever malleable and CrIsis bends, like a reed in the wind with the changes wrought of our steadfast resolution to deliver this world, Palladium, from the Old Ones essence of evil and rebuild the Law-Giver. We walk calmly in the footprints of our forefathers and pay tribute with homage in a long-winded deference to the Gods of Yore and their original subversion and imprisonment of those that shall remain unnamed. Unnamable Beings. This path – tread and worn with the venerable vestments of verisimilitude and the hierophant’s halcyon hegemony – this is the path of CrIsis. The Scions and Avatars and living extensions of the gods’ wills do battle and carry on this eternal fight through the Strife and Chaos of a churlish churning and psychic slurry of sluice-juice of distilled sinister essence. The War rages on – behind the scenes – and we are but players and pawns and pieces in a silent continuation of an eons-old egregious effervescence. Destiny is a funny thing.

Tear-dimmed remembrance
In a womb of time
Breathe upon me
Possessed by the passion
Fate will set you free
Infertile
Chaste be the precious
When flesh is an enemy
Fair weather gnome

Every piece has a price. Every organ is a struggle. Every. Last. Fucking. Inch…of his body. Ossified Osiris – Osirian Osso Bucco. Protozoan Ozone Ozostomia. The members remembered and dismembered. I can’t even imagine how angry I would have to be with Otto to cut the poor sot into fifteen pieces and scatter them to the winds of the world. Maybe if Osiris had been a little nicer, a little more forgiving, maybe if he had relaxed a little bit with all those Laws and Commandments…maybe if he had thrown a couple parties at his place and been a little more generous with the pardons and frivolities…maybe THEN he wouldn’t be having to rely on the feminine wiles of a Gnome and his furry Bennu-Bodyguard to piece Humpty Osirian Dumpty back together again. My momma always said, “Tyvernos, you know hon you’ll get more with sugar than you do with salt.” But…I’m adopted. That’s probably truer for Elves than it is for Gnomes.

Dammit! This Dyvalian curse I’ve been afflicted with has gotten to me tangentially and long of wind in a loose-of-tongue gabber-manner. My friends were so happy to see me! The Pyramidal teleportation is truly the way to travel! When you and dad go on vacation I would highly recommend it over the horses. It’s almost as fast as Riding the Lightning but it can transport you across the WORLD in the blink of an eye – not merely within your line of sight. Oh, incidentally, I had occasion to try two of the new spells dad taught me and I’m grateful for his help! They really came in handy when they saved my life…twice. But I’m getting ahead of myself…

So we put in at Mishala. Big gal but we fit. Nice set of docks though and a long-wharf fit for a short-piered dwarf. Quaint. Provincial. Hot and sticky and sweaty with the exertion and oppression of a jungle heat. She was more than damp and clearly in anticipation of our arrival. I’ve been told that my reputation precedes me and proceeds her to me. We came quickly ashore aboard a boarding board and moored the dock while she harbored the cocked clock. CrIsis is in a hurry. But not too soon that Xerx’ses couldn’t pigeon hole this bird with a one-eyed feather. Cava was there tying feathers to…Overkill hit it off with Father Fillippe. Evidently they worship both the Chocolate AND Vanilla here and our newest member, Indaris was a Vanilla only priest but his patron, friend, and father-figure Pinoy-ploy-pino was considerably more tolerant of other viewpoints. Overkill waxed philosophical and I discovered a neat little pocket of paunch-lint in my belly-hole which I began to excavate and summarily feed to the Bismark.

Is it just me or did the gods forget to inform us that we each had 90,000 credits of Xerxes’s money for no apparent reason? We hadn’t kept track of it in our inventories because money comes and goes but fear…fame…and family is forever. Fillip-pino created bread and milk. I wonder why we’re here. Nah, actually I kinda don’t. Otto needs a haircut. It’s time for the ol’ Elemental Groomer! We’re gonna take the St. Bernard to see the Dogfather! I’m gonna make him an offer he can’t refuse! I wonder if they have a Paws ‘n Claws Dogfather in this town. Otto and I double-dog dared Ivana to cat-call the kitty-ditty with an itty-bitty titty tornado in a tizzy of thin lizzy lust jizzy and Bast-batter splatter on her corn-dog platter…plastered with love and peppered with prayer. And prey we did. Pray the fucking shit outta that prayer. I got in before the buzzer beat Otto and from the looks of it the poor dog had to bat clean-up with CrIsis’s sloppy sixths. Sorry Snoopy – the sloop is soupy and you got Slurpy slurry instead of silky smoothie.

The next morning: Ahhhh…I could totally go for a smoothie. I crushed up a little alchemical morning-after pill and put it in Otto’s omelet. Just in case.

Soon we set out for the Trials in New Crests but not without an hour of analysis paralysis debating the best method of cooking corn on the cob. I do rather enjoy it on the grill with some spices and slathered in butter. There was some pretty strong opposition for boiling and berating a berretta-biretta of butter. Rogtilda knows best. We decide to get some first-hand recipe information from our former rock-friend Rogaine. We should still have plenty of time to get to Nucharest. Oh, we paused for a brief surcease and Fireside Shat. I’m back. And as soon as I return the money leaves for Bram Troker. Folks bought a bunch of supplies and non-magical weapons for the qualifying competitions. I went off to find an apiary and a honeyed-hoe doe-eyed dive with a dovetail hive – honeycomb home and a golden flower power shower. The Gnome is back! Ladies and Gentlemen…the GNINJA IS BACK!!!!

At some point we teleported to Ocheen Kharacho and that’s where the sequins sequence of events gets a little fuzzy. Father fillippe was instrumental in distributing bong-hit brouhaha and didactic democracy for public relations. We got a map so Overkill could practice feeling good about his inability to read it. Thank the Gods the overstoked heat-stroke of a sun-smoked beat-bloke ego dines on the red bearded whim of an untrimmed quim! It’s gonna take 15 days to get to New Crests. Awesome. Quick Sissy took his leave of us and who could blame him. He had secretly confided to Otto about his desire to renounce his vows and follow in the Troubador’s footsteps as a Bard. That’s a big codpiece to fill…never mind the shoes.

We used this interlude to visit an alchemist to procure Gems of Reality-TV. They are a new type of magical devise that allow you to pierce illusions. There’s a camera and boom crew waiting for the Gnome to be voted off Rogtilda! I believe there are three judges and it’s part of some singing competition but I can’t confirm that yet. It’s all very progressive you see. Nonetheless, I nearly parted with my Staff of Apis for a gem worth a mere 40,000 credits. Were it not for the generosity of Cava and…all of CrIsis…I would be the little Gnome who went WHEEE WHEEE WHEEE all the way home without a Gem of True Seeing. Interestingly the Alchemist wanted his family heirloom returned to him – a nut-cracker named Torac – I shall compose a HYMN TO TOURACH!

We finally met back up with our Carvel Carnival Caravel, BLEARGHtilda! I haven’t been on the open seas in a while so I couldn’t help but lose a little lunch and loose a little brunch on the doggy daycare center for battered women. ROVERkill dodged the bullet on that one – but not before narrowly avoiding the seaside heights of a great barrier queef.

We’re on Rogtilda and BendOverkill had a large-negative modifier to his Siamese sailing skill. He botched the roll and someone generously donated some Tinkerbell pixie dust. AND OVERKILL RECOVERED!!!! THE GODS ARE WITH US!!! THE HEAVENS THEMSELVES SANCTION OUR MISSION TO MARS!!!! We felt gale force winds and we look up and see a large Elemental and I couldn’t for the life of me understand what it was saying! Terrible! It must have been speaking a strange dialect of the odd language. Many luck points were spent and Overkill finally overcame the penalties and righted the ship’s course. Holy Fuckballs!

Rogtilda rocked unexpectedly and many of us failed to maintain our balance – Xerxes, Tyvernos, and Iana – and I managed to get off a spell that transformed me into a GRIFFON!!!! This was the first time I’ve tried this new spell in front of my companions and I think some of them were surprised. Regardless, Indaris healed the crap out of the rest of us who took damage – including Iana who hit her head really hard and was unconscious and needed to be psychically diagnosed and surgically healed by Ja’Deir. I saw the flying Squirrel though. Rocky’s a crafty one. He spread his filmy gauze over the unconscious form of a Bast-believer in Bas-relief for blast-relief. Who knows what he was doing under those big wings? Rocky’s cocky and probably showed the girl his Bullwinkle. I admired his built-in tent. His body…his temple.

Ja’Deir took the next half hour to practice his mudras and mantras, and after each mantra he uttered prayers of thanksgiving. It looked Tantric. And Iana was still unconscious. The verdict is still out on that guy. Evidently he has the power to mudra and mantra people’s minds! I’ve been keeping the Staff of Apis’s mind block invoked without interruption. For all I know he’s already gotten past my defenses! He’s already influenced me to distrust him…he’s wily! He’s sowing the seeds of paranoia in me to cover his tracks! Brillilant! Poisoned my mind with foreign matter and mental mettle and thought-processes. It’s game over. But now I know…so I might as well embrace it.

We encountered Edward Scissor-Teach and he is known as the Pirate Blackbeard! He is famous for tactics like surrounding other boats, taking all the valuable cargo, and leaving people alive. CrIsis decided to batter their way through the blockade. RAMMING SPEED!!!! We all battened down the hatches and braced for impact! I summoned my phantom limbs and bade Otto get himself below deck. And then we narrowly miss their lead boat! Amazingly and epically failed – but the maneuver actually looks like a brilliant success! H u z z a h ! ! ! We lived to fight another day…until Ja’Deir psionically reached out and dumped their helmsman into the drink. Only a few seconds later we heard the command in Southern to “Attack!” Uh oh! Looks like it’s on!
Cava took aim with surgical precision in a sniper shot with a NAT 20 and their steering wheel EXPLODED in a hail of electricity and sparks from his magical bow with one of the Tyvernos Lightning Arrows! Then the Priest of Light, Indaris, summoned a giant cloud of fog to cover our escape. Xerxes turned into a Griffon and flew off to rescue the fallen helmsman. I loosed a giant gust of wind that filled the sails and caused the ship to lurch forward going blazing fast. Overkill tried to use flags and heraldry to flag down ANOTHER ship that was coming at us and it looked like we were in for some more company. This time the large warship approached and Xerxes transforms into a human after returning from his Griffon foray and seaman-saving venture. It turned out they were semi-friendly and respect the fact that we’re in CrIsis but with some ill-fated melodrama it looks like we might have another fight on our hands…and we roll INITIATIVE?!!?

ROGAN took a grip of damage from a huge arbalest while trying to pilot himself! Oh no! It turns out Rogtilda isn’t a great captain and Overkill would have to return to his helmsman duties. He broke from his flagging activities and got us underway again. After two successive / consecutive wind rushes from my Phantom limbs the ship rushed like the wind and we flew off into the sunset. Our assailants shouted, “they are true followers of the Light! Attack no more!” and we actually made it out by the skin of our teeths.

Next day was beautiful and we were approaching an island! We decide to try to pass by the island on the ocean-side and avoid the island. Evidently we’ve been here before! I vaguely remember slaying a sea serpent at this location many moons ago. Ja’Deir found some dolphins. Finally, something that isn’t rations and litmus bread!

We had six days of smooth sailing and then stopped in Ironshod and then kept going. Ironshod was a blur but that’s probably because I was totally high for damn-near the entire week. Oric left with no choice but to liberate his reserve and loot and ransack his house and his every early possession – which I could care less about. But it was a crime against the gods to leave good weed behind for the crypt thieves and grave-looters.

Nude Crests the island city was reached in 17 days – connected to land by only two bridges. Six docking berths are available. We docked – but not before a very important philosophical debate-conversation is had by Xerx’ses. The Minotaur, however, remained as a Minotaur but the Squirrel was going to look like a human. It’s a good thing we’ve got nothing to hide and we’ve never been through this before and we have no idea what to expect and we’re itchin’ for a motherfuckin’ fight with people we don’t wanna kill. Love it. They don’t call us Cava’s CrIsis Crybabies for nothin’. Cryin’ Shame for Short! People started screaming and shouting that they’re under attack. Xerxes sits and chills. Tyvernos and Cava chill on the ship waiting for the melodrama to pass. It doesn’’t. They escalated and began to toss rocks at us – big ones.

I put up a wall of air that made the projectiles bounce back and smash into innocent folks on the docks. Then Ja’Deir grabbed the captain with psionic telekinesis and brought him back to us. We’re kind of in hot water at the moment. Sigh. This dude grabbed a dagger out of his belt, reached out across his neck, and started to slice his neck open. What the fuck?!?! Ja’Deir, Bennu bless his jolly little Chipmunk Soul managed to SAVE him with a natural 20! He blocked the knife-slice!

When he realized we weren’t going to allow him such an easy egress to the melodrama this guy finally managed to calm down long enough to call off the attack. Suicide would have been easier to clean-up if a little harder to explain. Whatever. He asked us how we can be so calmly when keeping the company of minotaur-monsters. I canceled the Wall of Wind and we managed to finally calm things down. Now this guy’s prejudices started coming out and he and his people consider association with Old Ones as an unpardonable sin. We explained to him, calmly, rationally, and even taking-turns using PHENOMENAL SUCCESSES to the Tyvernos Public-Speaking skill and unfortunately didn’t get very far until Mikala showed up and assuaged him. We got here too fast for our own good. Good goin’ Overkill!

I’ll write again soon. In the meantime there’s some New Breasts for me in Nude Crests and I’ve got to bugger off. Be well and may the winds always be at your back!

Griefernos Snoriflamme

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Written by Tyvernos on…an unknown date (actually the 18th of Pegasus), in the 69th year of the Wolfen Empire.