Episode 29: Scottalia's HardXcorE Strikers, Featuring Moonslice

Scene 1: Introductions

Rhomande: Oh, how good it is to be back, my beloved audience!  Honestly, how could you not tell that I had been replaced by a version of my sister from a now-destroyed universe?  Didn’t you see me as The Brando when I last trod the great boards of the Dodecahedron Theatre?  Ah, well.  Speaking of the Imperial Theatre Society, I must admit that I am beginning to worry just a little for the safety of the Holy City of Sahn Daskaar, Crown Jewel of the Empire.  I have a winter home there, you see.  But it will take my Insufferable Basterds some indeterminate amount of non-time to traverse the network of tunnels and tubes that run beneath and between realities––at least, that’s what our resident Irresponsible Portalmancer says.  So, rather than bore you with the details of a run-of-the-mill transcosmic journey, we proudly introduce you to your final band of protagonists.  And they’re Scottalians this time!  Well… half of them are.  In any case, it is my pride and joy to introduce… oh, dear Lords of the Dance!  This cannot possibly be their registered colloquial designation.  Ugh.  Well, I’ll just make a quick edit to the script here… It is my pain and misery to introduce Mixed-Species Task Force Number 77169, known more commonly as “Scottalia’s HardXcorE Strikers, featuring Moonslice”.


((Sfx: quill scratching))


Rhomande: Godric Goodfellowe!  Born and raised in Slumberton, Central Scottalia, this Paladin of Gomas the Lawbringer was inflicted with Lycanthropy shortly after the unexpected death of his dearest friend and squire, the halfling Whistlethorpe.  Despite his affliction, Godric never wavered from his senses of legality and morality, so the Lawful Orderhood of Gomas rewarded him first with the honor of not being cast out for turning into a giant rat, and secondly by choosing him to bear Sanction, the great sword of Lowra Weaverra, the First Justicar ever annointed in our fair island nation.


Godric: Oh, Whistlethorpe!  I shall travel the Empire in your honor, righting wrongs and spreading the Law of Gomas.  Of course, we will need to get out of this cavern complex first.  


Rhomande: Elrenaar Wolfrond, accompanied by his faithful lupine companion Moonslice!  Though, I’m not sure how much I can trust a druid who spends more time in the shape of a wolf than in the shape of an elf.  Fortunately, no matter how distasteful it might be for Elrenaar to parade around in his fur like that, Moonslice is always such a good boy!  Yes he is!  Let’s see… I’ve got some pilfered mermaid jerky around here somewhere…


((Sfx: Moonslice))


Elrenaar: Onward, friends!  Moonslice has picked up a scent down that tunnel to the left.  Hopefully it leads back up to the surface.


Rhomande: Every adventuring party needs a bard, and this group has ticked that box!  Unfortunately, they decided to hire a half-orc to fill the role.  Even less fortunately, he didn’t just study the bardic traditions; apparently he graduated from the Imperial Academy of Municipal Adventurers with a Minor in Sorcery.  And least fortunately, I must admit that Jonorcthan Coultorc is actually quite good.  Ah… I wish there could have been a bluff check there.


Coultorc: Me just write funny song bout office workorc who no cansfind love.  You see, it funny because office kind of make-up place only find in story and pixie tale!


Rhomande: Westley, a halfling whose life cannot encompass the deployment of trousers.  Fortunately for Wes, we here at the Twenty-Sided Theatre are all too polite to look.  Fortunately for us, the worlds show us myriad groin-enshrouding garments, many of which are not even technically pants!


Westley: There’s no time for pants!  At least, that’s what Grorque yelled when you guys dug in through my roof.  Luckily there was time to grab my flying carpet.


Rhomande: Grorque Jorsten, Cleric of Aigh Dubbil Yukay, god of Parties and Positive Reinforcement!  This human servant of the divine has kept his friends whole and healthy ever since Godric brought him the two halves of Whistlethorpe’s body, in hopes of a miracle.


Grorque: Some wounds are just beyond regular healing.  And some souls just know when it’s their time to slip back into the stream and wash away the grime of this life in preparation for the next.  But until that happens, it is your duty to live by the most sacred of Aigh Dubbil Yukay’s commandments!


Westley: Was it, “No time for pants”?


Grorque: Close, Westley, but not quite.  The Greatest Commandment is, “When the time of the Party is uponst you, thou shalt always Party Exuberantly.”


Rhomande: Thelindrias Ratkin, an Ascetic Hunter!  This elf was bitten by wererats at the same time that Godric contracted the old skin-turning disease.  Fortunately, his companion Ratoul, the most interesting dire rat in all the planes, was an excellent tutor in the ways of vermindom.


Thelindrias: If-a you guys would-a like, Ratoul and I can-a scout ahead.  I’m-a pretty a-sure we canna-slip-a-through some-a-da cracks in-a that pile of fallen a-rocks that we passed a while a-back.  


Ratoul: Esthquique.


Rhomande: Yavië Sindara, an elven witch who has seen fit to take my nephew Jaisin under her tutelage.  


((Sfx: spoon music))


Yavië: We’d best not split the party.  But if you want some scouting done via magic, then Jaisin and I can… we can… Jaisin, stop playing those spoons!


Jaisin: But my mom says that if I can’t play an instrument or if I can’t play it well, then I’m out of the family!  Even my dad plays the mouth harp!


Yavië: Two things.  One: your dad is a pig-man, and the tusks somehow give him an advantage with the mouth harp.  Two: spoons are utensils, not instruments.


Rhomande: And that opinion about spoons is why I trust Yavië ceatha∂an with the education of my least unfavorite nephew.  O noble members of my beloved audience, please do recline upon your gilded seats, liberally quaff your libations, inspire your pharmakoi, and adjust your listening devices that you may thoroughly enjoy your evening at The 20-Sided Theatre.

Read More