Having observed them long enough to determine they were likely there for the same reasons as he, Sleestak chose that moment to reveal himself. He was a large, ancient Lizardman shaman, adorned in feathers, bones, face and body paint, animal fangs, and beads. He had the leathery chin whiskers of a bearded dragon lizard, brown cracked crocodilian skin, one milky eye, and few teeth remaining. He slowly held out his empty claws to show the humans he meant no harm. "Please," he rasped in Common, "I would speak with you."
Then he heard Swishbold's words. His distant eyes fell upon his lizard kin and he was taken aback, astonished. His broken lips croaked the guttural language of Lizardfolk, “… can it be? …are you real?”
The moment Porphyry hears the new lizardman's question, but without indicating in any way that he is fluent in the reptilian tongue, he turns his back on the proceedings and resumes his examination of the book.
"Oh, thank goodness." says Wrenly, slipping the stone back in his pouch. "It seems one can't throw a stone in this party without hitting a lizardman. Welcome, sir! Please make yourself at home." Wrenly turns back to the study of the book.
Thanks OM. I'd love someone to do a Land of the Lost TV series reboot and treat it like straight scifi. A modern-day team goes through the portal to find out what happened to the Marshall family, and what the hell those alien dinomen were up to with their crystal technology in that weird, alternate past.
And thanks, Saalaria and Grog for allowing me to horn in on the sweet Lizardman action!
The adventurers swing into action at the new lizardman threat. Wulfhart the fighter dons the dead Boddin's ring of invisibilty and moves to engage the reptilian humanoid. Gagel the thief nocks an arrow in his bow, pulls back -
"Please, I would speak with you!" the lizardman says in Common. Swillbosh the friendly lizardman exchanges words with it and the party is relieved to hear this new arrival is not a threat.
Porphyry the satyr, Asherrion the Gray and Wrenly the Brown gather around the altar and its ancient book bound in human skin. The title, Prayers for the Dying, is in an ancient Common script. The book is filled with prayers and hymns ("I worship death and hope to be an offering to the God of pain", "Though not worthy of your torture, I bare my soul to you", "Kill me with your love, again and again. And again," and such like) written by a skilled calligraphic hand. But someone else has added marginalia on every page in the form of scribbled lines and rough black ink.
As the magic-users peruse the gross grimoire, incredibly the scribbles rise from the book...
and grow into a fearsome half-realized poorly conceived Terror! This tangled mass of ever-shifting, spastic and jittering lines and smudges and shadows is perhaps 10 feet long on each side. At times, it is able to almost coalesce into a firmly rendered shape, albeit an unnatural and horrible shape.
The inky thing lashes out with lines and squiggles and dark doodles!
Wrenly, instantly regretting his interest in mysterious, vile tomes, turns and runs for the nearest bridge, intending to put some distance between himself and the inky abomination in order to attack it from afar in a suitably dramatic way.
Asherrion the gray commands, Back to the inky depths with you, and chants the incantation for a magic missile aimed at the nightmare of penmanship and nib!
Upon closer view, Swishbold could see small, living snakes writhing among the old shaman’s many necklaces.
The shaman observed the humankind's reaction to his appearance, ranging from sneering disdain to bloodthirsty violence.
Sleestak rasped to his lizardkin in the shared language of their people: “It is good to see you, brother. I am called Sleestak, of the Choqua-Xi whose name means “Blessed Children.”
“I have many questions… But why do you walk with humankind? They are foolish barbarians who act without thinking. That one, who sorely wants to murder me, nearly cooked himself alive!”
Then, as if to further demonstrate his concerns, the humanfolk accidentally summoned a demon from an evil book of human sorcery.
Sleestak glared at the humankind, touched his chest, and then began quietly, rhythmically chanting a shamanic spell: “Tsi-go-wa-ti-ha! Su-na-le-i! E-do-da! E-me-nev!”
Last edited by Inferno on Tue May 19, 2015 12:22 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Groyn will get into a better attack position against the Ink creature.
Yous had to reads it out loud...ain't nothing good gunna be written in that there skin book!! We got anything to contain it? Better yet, hows about we kills it!!!
Gagel just steps further back and drinks his healing potion, "Ahh this is soothing, I feel lady death walk further away.....a shame, and this disturbing language is really just annoying", he laughs, "But we need that don't we? Yes we do", he laughs again.
“Don't ever tell anybody anything. If you do, you start missing everybody.” ― J.D. Salinger, The Catcher in the Rye
Swil was in the process of clapping his brethren on the shoulder and was just starting to reply when the book creature appeared. He utters a brief comment in his native tongue then watches with interest what develops.
The inky ichorous wells forth from the book, snaking out with uncoiling turbid tendrils of bilious black. The adventurers leap into action as the creature attacks.
Wulfhart the barbarian draws his bow, sending an arrow too high into the ceiling. Groyn the dwarf swings his mighty battle axe, slicing the ebony liquidifiousness with disappointingly little result. Niles the young knight hews forth with his enchanted sword. He gets wet with infernal ink but doesn't think he really hit.
Asherrion the Gray reaches within his arcane soul and summons forth missiles of magic energy. They strike the inky abomination, splattering jet liquid across floor, ceiling and the party. It seems to recoil in pain.
The lizardmen stand back, the old shaman Sleestak chanting and Swillbosh watching. A liquefied lash of lines strike Sleestak, interrupting his spell. He suddenly feels very strange (please Save vs. Magic.) As Fingal the thief moves toward Swillbosh, who is carrying a torch, he is savagely scribbled by the ink monster. He suddenly feels very strange (please Save vs. Magic.)
Seeking strategic position, Wrenly the Brave begins to bolt across the pit bridge but is hit by the hideous ink. The magic-user suddenly feels very strange (please Save vs. Magic.) Gagel the thief imbibes his elixir of healing, some of his wounds magically healing (7 HP) before his eyes. A second later a line of black strikes Gagel, doing doodle damage! Gagel suddenly feels very strange (please Save vs. Magic.)
Porphyry the pyschopomp draws his sickles and considers his next move. The observant satyr notes the bladed weapons did negligible damage to the dripping nightmare. The splotchy shadowy aggressive art shifts and flows. Some may see that the inky abomination forms a face, while others may see...?
Porphyry continues to back away from the conflict, his sickles held before him, ready to attempt a parry even if he knows it will probably be useless. He yells out to the others, "Magic's the thing! If your weapon is not enchanted, get away from it!"
All are hit. All please make Save vs. Magic.