The 20-Sided Theatre, Episode 5: Still Caught in the Arena of Ahk’rapp or The Insuffrable Basterds vs. True Love
Imenand - Blake
Rhomande - Rud
Thrimlach - Cian
Maldreth - Gabe
Issa - Ceri
Thorn - Blake
Vragul - Rud
Drowmande Sorofein - Blake
Torrea - Cian
Sir Gnome - Rud
Tuxedo Beak - Blake
Yfirmadr, Queen of Vragul - Natalie
Ishrek the Gormful (Yfirmadr’s father) - Cian
Vragul’s Uncle Gnarrrrrp - Gabe
The Faceless Pirate - Natalie
Threllis Lein - Cian
Brutalitar the Living Weapon - Gabe
Crowd Member 1 - Gabe
Crowd Member 2 - Ceri
Crowd Member 3 - Natalie
Crewman 1 - Ceri
Crewman 2 - Natalie
Scene 0: Alternate Drowmande/Icosagon Intro
Scene 0:Show Opening & Theme Music
Vragul: **From “offstage”** QUIET!! TIME FOR START SHOW! VRAGUL DEFEAT AUDIENCE!!
SFX: (2d20 rolls)
SFX: (pause)(51136_rutgermuller_Cough (short))
SFX: (two-count pause)
Rhomande: Hunh... that disembodied voice usually tells us what happened right after we try something. Oh, well. No competition!
Rhomande: Good evening Lords and Ladies. You have chosen your evening's entertainment --
Drowmande: (interrupting) Oh, no you don’t, treesleeper! This isn’t your theatre.
Rhomande: Hey, who the---
Drowmande: (interrupting) Ruffians! Wenches! Bloodthirsty degenerates of all ages! It’s Thursday night, and you know what that means! Welcome... to the Icosagon!
The Wiz: **From “offstage”** Dancing lights! SFX: (121558_sbarncar_whistleandreport.aif x 5 (bunched in time with opening of Theme Music)
Theme Music: (VCMG – Victory Flower Fields – 20-Sided Theatre Edit)
--> slight alteration?
Music Bed: (Sylvius Leopold Weiss – Courante in F Major.mp3)
Drowmande: We join our contestants...
Rhomande: (interrupting) Hey! We’re “heroes”!
Drowmande: Not while you’re here, you’re not.
((Sfx: d20 roll))
Rhomande: (Strangled, angry sounds)
Drowmande: Ahem... Allow me to introduce you to our “Contestants” -- The Insufferable Basterds of Western Scottalia!
(Sfx: Crowd boo)
Drowmande: Thrimlach Lenanien! A blind Elf Sorcerer, stripped of all his attendants, charms, and poultices.
Thrimlach: Torrea? Ceatharan? Where is everybody? I can’t even see my hand in front of my familiar’s face! Sir Gnome, I know you’re somehow to blame for this... So help me I’m going to drop you in SUCH a maze!
Drowmande: Imenand Shenouda, known throughout The Empire as The Weaponsmith -- he serves as President and spokesman of The Shenouda Necromancy Corporation, and provider of the Icosagon’s more devious implements of carnage.
Imenand: SFX: (4914_noisecollector_cat2.wav) By Mëassë’s implacable hammer, when I get out of here, I’m going to incorporate you into your masters’ next device!
Drowmande: Issa Featherfoot, Pengonquin Princess. A sneaky, seven-foot-tall Werepenguin! It’s been quite a while since we had a good beast hunt, hasn’t it, folks?
Issa: (series of VERY angy penguin noises)
Drowmande: Quite a mouth -- er... beak, isn’t that? Who’s next? Ah, right! The terrible, towering Maldreth the Impius, the ogre-blooded Patriarch of the Church of War, dedicated to Makar, Father of Strife!
Maldreth: Ugh! None of you buffoons will receive the healing might of Makar’s Poleaxe until someone kills that gods-be-damned new voice.
Drowmande: His Majestic Terror, Vragul, son of Vorbal, King of Town Hall, King of Wagon, King of Docks, King of Wife, King of Bloodless Axe, and Baron of Keepfield!
Vragul: (snoring/sleeping) Zzzz.... king of potato.... king of rock... king of bed... zzzz
Drowmande: Thorn, the Trixie Pixie! A thieving little gnat, with an indeterminate gender.
Thorn: Hey! Where’d the cat’s skull go? I had seven thousand gold worth of miniaturized furnishings in there!
Drowmande: And our leastmost challenger, some flamboyant elf called Rheumy Andy!
Rhomande: It’s Rhomande, and you know it! Sheesh... and I thought the last disembodied voice was bad.
Drowmande: Coves and Cozies of my blood-lusting audience, recline upon your gilded seats, quaff your libations and thoroughly enjoy your evening at The Arena of Ahk’rapp!
End Music Bed: (Sylvius Leopold Weiss – Courante in F Major.mp3)
Scene 1: Buying, Trading, and Celling
Drowmande: Watch, as our latest attractions awake in darkness with cramped muscles and pulsating bruises.
Imenand: Ugh... I Knock open the doors again. (Sfx: Knock x6)
Issa: Waak. At least they let us keep all the stuff we found.
Maldreth: You mean all of our stuff?
Rhomande: But not all of our stuff. Just some thieves’ tools and a few weapons.
Thrimlach: And a pile of money!
Thorn: Not that money will do us much good in this dungeon. Ah! There’s the kitty!
((Sfx: Bastet Meow))
Imenand: Get away from Bastet! She’s been through enough of an ordeal without a size-changing wasp rattling around in her skull!
Issa: (Sigh) I’ll grab one of these ten-foot poles hanging above the lintel. Probably going to be a few more traps this time.
Maldreth: You nitwits have finally reached the obvious conclusion on your own! One of you grab the other pole and let’s get out of here!
Scene 2: A Match Made In The Pit
Rhomande: We did climb the stairs and emerge into a throng of orcs, half-orcs, humans, and one bugbear. Overhead, gray pillars rose to support a series of gothic arches and stained glass windows.
Drowmande: Hoo-boy! This part’s a wonder of stagecraft. If you watch the stained glass closely, you can see each scene playing out, then resetting and beginning again.
Rhomande: I was about to get to that!
Drowmande: Too bad. I’m the MC here, and you’re just one of the extras. Unless you think you have what it takes to go toe-to-toe with the Drow from down below?
Rhomande: By Bardok’s bloody teeth! That was just awful! Who is your writer? He should be hanged!
Imenand: These moving windows are quite intriguing. They seem to show a series of battles and hunts.
Issa: Except for that one at the end.
Rhomande: Indeed, the stained glass at the far end of the cathedral did not move. Instead, it depicted a grizzled, black knight sitting upon a throne of skulls, his one red eye gazing down upon the cathedral's altar.
Maldreth: I’d like to hire whoever decorated this place! I’ve been looking to renovate my cathedral!
Vragul: Wait... me know them orc! And them hu-mans.
Thrimlach: Well, then, who are they?
Vragul: They me family! Look! Even great-grandm’orc here!
Thorn: Well, that’s a relief. Who’s the angry-looking bugbear stalking toward us?
Vragul: Uncle Gnarrrrp! It be so long! How you do?
Uncle Gnarrrrp: THERE YOU IS. YOU KNOW HOW LONG WE WAIT? ME ALWAYS SAY FAVORITE NEPHEW BE LATE FOR OWN FUNERAL. NO THINK ANY ORC BE DUMB ENOUGH TO PISS OFF WIFE BY BEING LATE TO WEDDING. EVEN HALF-HUMAN ORC LIKE VWAGGIE.
Issa: Vwaggie? Hahaha!
Uncle Gnarrrrp: Haha! Vragul choose for himself when four year old! He say he King of Nickname.
Vragul: (sullen) Me king of lots other thing now, too.
Maldreth: Hang on one moment... Vragul, are you telling me that you and Yfirmadr aren’t actually married? That you’ve been living in sin? And that your unborn child will be an orphan... er... bastard?
Vragul: Well, it just little civic ceremony at first. But me promise big church wedding when me return to Oak Vale from adventures. Me just not return there yet. Spend lots time in Keep. Take lots to be King of Barony.
Rhomande: Well, it isn’t often that we get to meet each other’s families!
Issa: We meet yours all the time! Look! Your sister and her band are even playing this wedding!
Rhomande: Ugh… I truly wish we didn’t and they weren’t. So I’ll ignore her! But if Yfirmadr, Queen of King of Wagon, wishes a big, fancy cathedral wedding, then Rhomande Sorfinde shall do everything within his power to provide it!
Thrimlach: Oh, dear. I’ll just be getting back to my cell...
Rhomande: Oh, no you don’t! Someone has to go check on the Bride, and you’re already blind, so that makes you the perfect candidate. Issa, Thorn. You two should go with him. You can be the bridal party.
Thorn: I’m not going in there!
Issa: Yeah! Who died and made you wedding planner?
Vragul: YOU GONNA DIE IF YOU RUIN WEDDING FOR MOST SPECIALEST ORC-LADY IN ALL KNOWN WORLDS!
Issa: (gulp) Yes, your Majesty.
Thorn: Well, when you put it that way... Let’s go, Issa.
Rhomande: Meanwhile, the rest of us need to herd this rabble into the pews so the ceremony can start. Now! Would the Bride’s Family kindly take their seats, if I am suitably diplomatic? (Sfx: d20 roll, calming crowds) Excellent! And now the Groom’s Family... (Sfx: d20 roll)
Torrea: Where should I sit, Master Bard? I am family to neither but friend to both!
Sir Gnome: Me too, sir.
Thrimlach: (happy) Torrea! Sir Gnome! (angry) Sir Gnome, how did you get Torrea trapped in this dimension? Tell me or I’ll use your head to pot my herb garden! And what are those awkwardly balanced skeletal structures doing standing behind you?
Drowmande: Those, Thrimlach, are the members of Sir Gnome’s new family. You trained him to be an inept necromancer, then sent him on a quest across Scottalia.
Sir Gnome: That’s right! I walked out of Caer Ras, and this huge bird snatched me up and stuffed me in his nest. It took a few weeks to untangle myself and the money bag you gave me. But it was alright, because on the third night, the bird came back and coughed up a ball of fur, and the loveliest lady ever was trapped inside! May I present Lady Gnome, and our children, Sir Gnome, Jr., and Thrimlette! We named her after you.
Thrimlach: That is utterly disgusting. And no you didn’t. My mother’s name was Thrimlette. I won’t have anything that looks like a sugar skull with pigtails named after me!
Imenand: I could find a purpose for three small piles of bones, if you would rather not see them again, Thrimlach. We at the Shenouda Necromancy Corporation do bring out the best in your dead.
Thrimlach: Ugh, no. Now that they’re here, I’ll have some other skulls to stow my belongings inside. But I still need a minute without them.
Vragul: Wife always talk about need flower girl and ring carry boy. And maybe Torrea put on ugly green dress and be Maid of Honor.
Thrimlach: A capital idea, Vragul! Get to it, Torrea! Chop-chop! That goes doubly for the Gnome Family! Chop-chop-chop-chop!
((Sfx: scared children and lots of footfalls?))
Drowmande: Marvel, my supine spectators, as Thrimlach chases a family of gnome skeletons around, threatening to cut them with a kitchen knife! Meanwhile the rest of these buffoons leave the Bard to settle all of the guests!
Issa: Alright everybody, the Bride’s ready whenever you’ve settled things down...
Drowmande: Hey, Issa. Look over there and give me a spot check. (Sfx d20 roll)
Issa: Hel-loooo nurse! Who’s the handsome penguin in the party mask? And what’s that dapper suit he’s wearing?
Drowmande: You should introduce yourself and find out. The chances are pretty slim that he’s actually related to Vragul.
Issa: Shut up, voice. I may have found someone to leave my eggs with while I go out galavanting. Hey you! Waak wak wak! (continued penguin noises)
Tuxedo Beak: Why, thank you very much Lady Featherfoot! It is a cut of my own design, and the colors are designed to set off our natural plumage.
Issa: (flirty) So... fancy beak. What’s this spectacular set of clothes called?
Rhomande: And where does your tailor live? I’d love to have one of my own! That tiny bow around your throat is absurdly fetching!
Issa: Get out of here, Bard! I’m conducting an interview for an underling! Now... what’s the suit called?
Tuxedo Beak: I call it a “Tuxedo”!
Issa: Hmmmm.... sounds kinda silly, but it looks really good. How are you at following orders?
Tuxedo Beak: My last employer never complained about my lack of spine!
Issa: Excellent! Then we shall call you Tuxedo Beak and never ask where you came from or who you are behind that mask! You’re going to stand up here and be one of Vragul’s ushers. If anybody gets out of line, I expect you to give them the business end of the flipper.
Tuxedo Beak: Wak! Yes, ma’am!
Vragul: Hmm... this starting to look good. There still something missing, though. Maybe best man?
Yfirma∂r: IT NOT BEST MAN AND YOU KNOW. YOU MISSING BRIDE!
Rhomande: Truer words have never been spoken! And thus did Yfirmadr, Queen of Town Hall lead the wedding procession, in all her glorious orcly pregnancy, wearing a bloodstained, off-white dress. Little orc, half-Orc, skeletal, and human children tailed her, spreading flower petals and hatchets in her regal wake. She stops before the altar, glances lovingly at her husborc, and says in her "sweetest" voice,
Yfirma∂r: WHAT YOU DO NOW, VRAGUL? YOU FAMILY MAKE BIG DEAL ABOUT CHAPEL WEDDING, AND NOW YOU FORGET BRING PRIEST? ME THOUGHT YOU KING OF PRIEST! WHAT YOU HAVE SAY FOR SELF?
Rhomande: Then I, Rhomande Sorfinde, Bard Inextraordinaire, Largest Single Act in the Empire, shall officiate this --
(SFX: lightning/zapping, with Rho making electrocuted sounds)
Drowmande: Oh, did I forget to tell you? The altar is attuned so you can only approach the Sanctum if you have a direct conduit to one of the gods. Sorry, cousin, but “I sang so good one crazy god looked at me once” just doesn’t cut it here.
Rhomande: I... hate.... you.... (Sfx: sizzling/steaming sounds)
Vragul: You gonna do nothing, talky-elf. Me defeat new not-disembodied voice. Me defeat ALL . VRAGUL KING! YOU! MALDRETH! YOU COME MAKE CATHEDRAL WEDDING!
Maldreth: Ugh. Fine. (Sfx: d20 roll) I’ll dredge up my Knowledge of Orc Theology if it’ll get us out of here. Doubly quick if it means spending less time amongst Vragul’s family.
Maldreth: Ahem. Dearly disgusted, we are gathered here today to prevent this child from being born out of wedlock and thus spending eternity in Orc Limbo.
Maldreth: Vragul, do you so swear to take this orc woman and to raise all of her children? To maintain her house and protect her lands?
Vragul: Me do.
Maldreth: Yfirmadr, do you so swear not to let Vragul know when you’re knocking boots behind his back? To sustain and maintain the flesh and spirit of this half-orc?
Yfirmadr: Me do.
Maldreth: Then since I’m skipping over the part where I ask if anybody objects -- because I object -- I now pronounce you “King of Wife”. You may do whatever disgusting thing comes next.
Vragul: Finally! Stupid family drama over now.
Yfirmadr: Me no think soooooOHHHHHHHH!
Vragul: What? What happen now? If Ogre-Priest do something to wife, me Vragul wear you gut for garter!
Issa: I’m pretty sure you did this to her Vragul. It looks like she’s about to lay a kid. That’s how you mammals do it, right?
Thrimlach: Wait, aren’t you a mammal? What are those things on your chest for?
Issa: I’m not really sure, to tell you the truth. I never thought to ask my mom.
Rhomande: Well, my extensive Bardic Knowledge -- which certainly isn’t a Bluff Check -- ((Sfx: d20 roll)) tells me that the Werepenguins are, indeed mammals. They don’t nurse, but they do vomit up a milky substance into their chicks’ gullets, until about a year after they hatch, when the beak starts coming in.
Imenand: I have never encountered so disgusting an image in all my un-life.
Issa: Really? Even with the seven-foot-tall half-orc over there, going into labor?
Yfirmadr: YOU DO THIS, VRAGUL! THIS YOU FAULT! IT ALWAYS SIN OF ORC MAN THAT CAUSE SUFFERING OF LADY ORC! THAT WHAT WITCH SAY WHEN SHE READ OUT OF ORC BIBLE!
Issa: Seriously! Somebody do something to help! Preferably with magic!
Thorn: I could cast Grease, I guess...
Maldreth: Not a bad idea, Thorn. Come here and grease me up to the elbows! (Sfx: Grease) Yes... yes.... good... Let’s just take a look-see, here. Everything looks fine to me, Mrs. Of-Town-Hall.
Drowmande: You’d better look again. And this time, give me a Heal Check Maldreth.
((Sfx: d20 roll))
Maldreth: What? See? I told you nothing’s wrong. All orc babies have long necks and tiny heads with five wiggling knobs, right?
Vragul: Me not expert on physiognomy, but me pretty sure that a foot. WHY ME CHILD ONLY A FOOT!?
Ishrek the Gormful: You, Son-in-Law! This you fault! Stupid half-human put baby in upside down! Me know this, for me Ishrek the Gormful! Me know how use the definite article! Me know the many thing!
Maldreth: Oh... in that case, I think Imenand and Thrimlach should handle this one. They’re much better surgeons than I am. Plus, I have no wish to know what an orc uterus looks like during a Kaissaarian Section.
Vragul: This not me fault! Me not know it bad to do it upside down like that! But me also King. No let anybody talk to me that way. Even stupid fathorc of wife!
Rhomande: Dear gods! I suppose this means the reception’s started. I’d better strike up a traditional orc dance-fighting tune! ((Sfx: lute))
Ishrek the Gormful: Hah! Now this proper orc cathedral wedding! The only problem stupid talky-elf in the way of future-ex-son-in-law! Plus, the only thing me hate more than elfs am STUPID LUTE! ((Sfx: d20 roll, axe hit, shattering lute, record scratch?))
Rhomande: (Gulp). Uhm.... Your Majesty, how will anyone hear of your glories if I’m dead?
Vragul: ((Sfx: flying orc)) No need hear, talky-elf. With Bloodless at me side, me DEFEAT ALL. ((Sfx: d20 roll x2, 2 axe hits)) ME king of talky-elf. No orc break him lute but Vragul -- not even fathorc-in-law!
Imenand: Let’s see... If that’s a belly-button, then the incision should go... ((Sfx: d20 roll)) HERE!
Yfirmadr: (breathing exercises) Me... Get through this... Me had... worse pain... first time... me hunt dire elephant... STUPID VRAGUL! FATHORC RIGHT! YOU DO PUT BABY IN UPSIDE DOWN! THIS STILL YOU FAULT! Oh... Hey, wrappy-face. What that you holding there?
Imenand: Oh, this... Um... don’t worry about it. It’s too small to be a uterus. Probably just your urinary bladder. This would be a lot easier with an assistant. Thrimlach! What are you doing over there? I need a second set of hands. You know that Issa makes a terrible nurse, thanks to the flippers!
Issa: It’s true.
Drowmande: Thrimlach is currently making a fortitude save. Let’s see how he’s doing with that. ((Sfx: d20 roll))
Thrimlach: (vomiting sounds) And I thought they smelled bad... on the outside! (vomiting sounds, gasp for breath) Alright. Now, which of these organs is a baby?
Thorn: Um.... is there supposed to be that much blood on the outside of the body? And so many organs?
Imenand: They’re all connected, still! Just a little... spaced out, so we can have some room to work.
Issa: No... I’m pretty sure people only bleed that much when they’re about to die.
Maldreth: Ugh! Very well. Ancient orc culture believed that she-orcs were tougher than he-orcs, since they had two battlefields, where the males only had one. By Makar’s Fields of Bloody Birth and Battle, be Healed! ((Sfx: Cure))
Rhomande: Swat him one but good, Vragul! Do it for Rhomandette!
Ishrek the Gormful: What stupid talky-elf on about now? ((Sfx: d20 roll x3, sword hit x2))
Vragul: Agh! Me not know. RRRRAGH! ((Sfx: d20 roll, axe hit)) Me think he talking about lute. ((Sfx: d20 roll, axe hit)) It no matter, though. Me already defeat talky-elf and stupid lute. JUST LIKE ME GONNA DEFEAT FATHORC-IN-LAW! ((Sfx: d20 roll, axe hit))
Yfirmadr: (Gasp). Me awake! Need still push?
Thrimlach: No, you just lay back and let the experts do all the work. I really hope that’s an umbilical cord around its neck, and not one of the mother’s bowels, though...
Imenand: No, that’s definitely an umbilical cord. Easy fix. We just need a little snip-snip... now where did my rusty shears go?
Issa: Oh, ye gods! Don’t use those! This is the only time this will ever happen, so please look away. I’ll just have to use my rogue-like precision to... Snip-SNIP!
((Sfx: scissors, crying baby))
Ishrek the Gormful: Wait... what that? That sound like...
Vragul: That sound like boy-orc! ME HAVE SON!
Ishrek the Gormful: AND ME HAVE GRANDSON! ME NEVER BE SO HAPPY IN --((Sfx: d20 roll, axe hit)) Oof!
Vragul: Me tell you me defeat all. Now that subject-in-law unconscious, me take care of business.
Maldreth: What sort of surgeons are you idiots? At least put everything back in its proper place before I cast cure again! ((Sfx: Cure/heal)) And ... there. You’re fully recovered from your breach birth and nearly-botched Kaissaarian Section, Mrs. Of-Town-Hall. And your son appears to be in perfect health. I think. I neither know how nor care to check.
Thrimlach: Breathing normally?
Vragul: That good enough for me! We make follow-up appointment in two week.
Rhomande: Well, your Majesties, have you given any thought to a name for the little green prince?
Yfirmadr: Me decide name long time ago. If it girl, she called Axelina. But me let husborc make name public.
Drowmande: Behold, bloodthirsty savages, as Vragul crosses the threshold to take his swaddled son in his arms for the first time. For a long moment, the two stare at each other, and you can see the conflict that will erupt one day within this family, as the Prince grows into his own Kingship. But for now, all is well, for Vragul lays the baby on the altar, and gently taps the infant’s forehead with the flat of Bloodless, his mighty great axe.
Vragul: Me defeat you first, little one. Me look forward to day when you defeat me.
Drowmande: Vragul scoops up the baby once more and holds him aloft, displaying him to the assembled friends and family and guests.
Vragul: ALL KNEEL AND BEHOLD VRIGGLE, SON OF VRAGUL, SON OF VORBAL! PRINCE OF TOWN HALL!
Scene 3: Undressed to Kill
Yfirmadr: Thank you for help keep Vriggle alive during him first battle. In thank, me give you pick of wedding gift. To be honest, me not sure where wedding gift came from, so it easy for Queen to be generous.
Maldreth: That’s great, Mrs. Of-Town-Hall. But it seems your child needs to be properly baptized, or elsehe’ll end up in Orc Hell. Now, if you’ll come over here, I’ve chosen one of your human in-laws to be sacrificed in the traditional High Orc Fashion.
Rhomande: Even I’m not going to take note of what happens next with Maldreth. Especially since, I, the Indecorable Rhomande Sorfinde am going to paw through all of these shiny and probably enchanted wedding gifts!
Thrimlach: Hmm... this crystalline Eye of Counterspells might be a good replacement for the one I lost.
Issa: And I need to replace my Headdress of Enlarge Penguin. Maybe this headdress could be enchanted. ((Sfx: Enlarge Person))
Issa: (“Big” voice) WAAAAK! Guess it doesn’t need to be enchanted!
Maldreth: (looking up from sacrifice, probably annoyed) You buffoons! Master Shenouda, would you like to tell them, or should I?
Imenand: Those are our magical trinkets, you quarter-wits. Look! This statue is even wearing the holy symbols Maldreth and I carved in praise of the Twin Gods of War and Weaponmaking.
Maldreth: Ugh. I hope I’m there to witness and laugh when you all die. But for now, make haste! I finished the sacrifice and figured out the fastest way out of this place. There’s a door in the back of the Sanctum here, and the Exclusionary Field appears to have gone down.
Vragul: Um... Me not know how say this, but... Me need private moment with wife. Me be back in ten, maybe fifteen minute. You go on ahead, and we catch up.
Rhomande: Hrm... Perhaps I should stay behind as well... I can escort Vragul and Yfirmadr through the next challenge, and I can take notes in case I ever have to write a half-orc love scene!
Thrimlach: Ewww!!!! Iputmyselfinamaze! ((Sfx: Maze))
Imenand: Thrimlach! Take me with youuuuuu!
Issa: I pull my headdress over my eyes and just pray to the Great Cosmic Egg that the pictures in my head go away some day.
Thrimlach: (muching on some fruit) Ahh! Much better!
Maldreth: Thrimlach, you shouldn’t eat that! You don’t know where it’s been, or who it’s been poisoned by! And where in Makar’s Overawing Name did you find a bowl of fruit in a maze, anyway?
Thrimlach: I keep a very close watch on my own magical mazes. And I keep them very well stocked with snacks. Pretzel? (as if offering a snack)
Thorn: Um... while you guys were hiding from that gross makey-outey pair of half-orcs over there, I scouted the door. There’s a short hallway, then a ladder that just climbs up into pitch blackness. So, I thought you’d like to know that.
Scene 4: That’s All, Folks.
Drowmande: And let’s stop the scrycrystal there! No need to go any farther than that, when we have a new season of How Much Do People Usually Pay For It to plan out!
Rhomande: What… that’s it? No terrifying Ogres coming out to club us to death so we can wake up in our cells again?
Dromande: Hermes and Hades have the week off. They also just got married, so they’re on their honeymoon in Scenic Southern Scottalia! At last report, they were sightseeing in the Razorswamps at the base of the Frozen Summit. I dearly hope they bring me a loaf of souvenir rye from the League of Scottalian Bread Merchants.
Rhomande: I honestly don’t know if that’s heartwarming or horrifying. But that may be the aftereffects of watching Yfirma∂r give birth. But at least I won’t be clubbed to death again.
Drowmande: Nope. You’ve got it worse, now. We’re locking all the doors and just letting everyone in there starve, until they wake up in their cells, this time. A nice, long, slow, drawn-out death for the Treesleeper and his band of troublemakers!
Rhomande: What about those of my companions who are undead? They can’t starve.
Drowmande: Anything that’s still alive in a week’s time will be cascaded with waves of fire for a solid three hours. That’ll take care of moving them back to a cell, as well as give us a bump on the Scrycasting viewership during Sweeps Week. Everybody loves to see mummies and ogre-priests on fire!
Rhomande: I hate you. So fucking much.
Scene 5: Credit Where Credit is Due
Music Bed: (Credit Where Credit Is Due - VCMG)
Thrimlach: Visit The 20-Sided Theatre online at twentysidedtheatre.com and 20sidedteatre.tumblr.com.
Rhomande: The 20-Sided Theatre is a joint production of Bear Industries and the Shenouda Necromancy Corporation. Episode Six stars Gabriel Abinante, Blake Parker, Ceri Quattrin, Cian Quattrin, and Rudraigh Quattrin.
Smyd: Written by Rudraigh Quattrin and Edited by Blake Parker.
Imenand: Sound Effects Design by
Imenand: Music by
Imenand: For a complete list of and links to all the music you heard on tonight's episode visit 20sidedtheatre.tumblr.com.
Thrimlach: Join us next time at The 20-Sided Theatre!
Scene 6: Brought to You By
Khentin’s Discount Flying Carpets