The No-Action Game: Saying Goodbye to Donzabel, AGAIN!

After the seemingly catnip driven frenzy of the un-Hellow Kitty-like kitties in the market square in Sombar, our mauled and much scratched up adventurers await the arrival of the city guard, albeit rather late. Our intrepid band of comrades was just coming to grips with the all too familiar loss of our druid friend Donzabel when the city guard surrounded us and demanded that we explain the bloody event that had just taken place. Ydenzyk was nowhere to be seen.

The captain of the guard identified himself as captain Alex and uneasily awaited our explanation. We thought the scene self-explanatory, but to appease the strict-minded law man's demands, offered as our defense the slain corpses of the cat people and appealed to his sense of logic. He conceded that indeed we had done Sombar a service, but that our own identities were still in question and that it would serve the public interest if we would accompany him to his command post to ascertain our identities and how we ourselves entered his beloved Sombar.

Obviously injured and a bit disoriented after such a horrendous battle which cost the life of not only Donzabel but also the life of his "wolven life partner, and Aleska's latest creation" we were reluctant to be rushed off in a manner befitting criminals, and repeatedly made our case to captain Alex. Madak even appealed to the good people of Sombar, who had just witnessed the attack of the cat people and the defense of their city by the stalwart group, to step forward and give witness in our case. Alas, dazed and confused by the bloody brawl they had been subject to, as well as their own losses, they only wept and or stood dumbfounded with heads hung low.

Only one person stepped forward in our defense; the simple-minded-Prolth-charmed hottie, Cathy Baker (no relation to Tammy Fae Baker) ironically holding a very apt symbol of her personality; a beautifully crafted but oh so empty bucket. Ydenzyk was nowhere to be seen.

Just when we thought our case was looking up, it was made a bit worse with the verbal mumblings of Prolth, who at one point let slip that "We entered Sombar magically, by teleporting." When captain Alex attempted to follow this line of questioning Prolth adeptly retorted, "What? Hu? Um, I don't remember."

Needless to say, we weren't inspiring confidence with captain Alex and he called even more city guard with weapons in-hand who surrounded and menaced us. In our present condition it would have been madness to fight with the guard and captain Alex, who was, after all, only doing his job as a peace officer of a lawful city. Therefore we acquiesced to his demands with the proviso that we first visit the Cathedral of Paylor for some much needed healing, lest we expire en route to the command post, a wonderful suggestion made by the ever cerebral Aleska. Ydenzyk was nowhere to be seen.

At the Cathedral, Father Mulkton was made aware of the hair-raising Cat-astrophe including part 2 of the continuing saga of The Demise of Donzabel. Father Mulkton, also known as "Papa Mulky" to the choir/ altar boys, sympathized with us and healed us of all our wounds. Some discussion ensued about who would take the again vacant place of our again fallen comrade, and as quick as you could say "wizard council's conspiracy" there in the room was a handsome, more-than-capable elf druid to do just that, take Donzabel's place. "Wow, how convenient!" you say? Well, that's just how Madak saw it. Magic users and all they're trickery aren't worth a beautifully crafted bucket of warm ogre spit. Although to his credit, Father Mulkton vouched for the unimpeachable character of Aleska, thereby throwing us all in a good light with captain Alex, which made clearing our names in this meow-mix up all the easier.

The capable looking elf's name is Dragan-Ass, though I am sure it is pronounced differently in his mother language, it started a subtle chuckle-wave about the room that, it seemed to Madak, even the holy and venerable Father Mulkton gave a chortle, albeit masked as a sort of a cough. Ydenzyk was nowhere to be seen.

We were in great need of food and drink but also had to attend to our fallen brother-in-arms. As Prolth lay across Donzabel's body wailing and slobbering in an obvious attempt to extract his due compensation for allowing Donzabel, while living, to be the actual friend to the mighty Prolth, Madak quipped, " Watch his hands." We decided to first accompany the lawful captain Alex to the command post to clear up the litter concerning the bloody cat-brawl of Sombar, as it was later to be famously known, and then say our farewells to Donzabel, and THEN seek food and drink. "Friends before Food" as we half-orcs say, truly a motto to live by.

We accompanied the good captain and his retinue of puny underlings to the command post where our identities and motives were soon made clear and we were released on our own recognizance to bid a, let's hope, FINAL, final farewell to Donzabel.

We returned to the cathedral to find Dragonass in possession of all the hard fought rewards that had once been proudly brandished by our fallen brother, who lay, body still warm, on the cold brick and tile floor of the cathedral. "This is how followers of Paylor are treated in Death?" thought Madak, and a hardened half-orc warrior of many bloody battles with many scars inside and out, had to turn away from the cold butchery of religious greed and frivolity. Yet, I digress.

We each spent a quiet and private moment with the remains before Dragonass was to take the body to a serene place for burial.

Prolth, ever lacking fitting words, played his heart out through his magical instrument and shed a tear or two. Madak, in the way of his kind, gave Donzabel a good "smash" in the face goodbye, but not too hard as to ruin the stuffy druid burial ceremony. Each in his turn, and each in his own way said a bitter goodbye to Donzabel, once and for all. All of us, as we stood over the expensive corpse, secretly in our heart of hearts, wishing that we could get even a partial reimbursement of that 25,000 gold that we so innocently paid to have this boob resurrected, and vowing NEVER to do that for another beloved comrade again. Ydenzyk was still nowhere to be seen.

With heavy hearts and empty stomaches we found our way to Maxine's Utter (Bar and Grill) to lighten our hearts and fill our stomaches. As always, the jester was there delighting the crowd with his antics and buffoonery. Madak gave the familiar half-orc fist shake to the barkeep, who was also a half-orc, and with gratitude in his heart and a gruesome grin on his scare-ridden face, he replied in kind. Despite his pleas for the now disjointed band of brothers to sit at the same table and share the grief, most of us decided to keep a vigilant watch from different vantage points and not let our guard down one bit. At least, that was Madak's reasoning for shunning Prolth's warm gesture. Madak also didn't care to sit with the stolen-articles-adorned unproven peacock, Draganas, as the half-orcs' loyalties are not so easily shifted from a beloved comrade to an unknown-elf-of-dubious-loyalties-not-yet comrade.

Also in attendance was the slippery Dugal and a dark and dastardly duo sitting at a table near the entrance. One of them had tattoos on his bald forehead and a hidden but noticeable pair of dangerous dangling daggers which hung at his sides. As Grun would have it, there was an empty table behind the sinister pair. Madak took advantage of the gruesome gift from Grun and stealthily moved to occupy the strategically sound sitting position. Prolth, ever watchful as well as playful, noticed Lazarus sitting alone in the corner opposite the jester and made his way over to him with his bucketload of a woman in hand, and with a load of a bucket in her hand. They exchanged salutations and pleasantries, and Lazarus commented that perhaps the girl would fit in better if she dispensed with her ornate yet burdensome looking companion. She hesitated, then, after consulting her newfound soul-mate, Prolth, reluctantly laid the bucket down.

This is where our friends, our brothers in arms, are left for now. Frozen in time, until the next time we meet again for...... the game.

P.S. This took me a long time to write, as I am literally literarily handicapped, so if you don't like it just keep your snide comments to yourself and ask someone else to write the blog next time. If events are out of order, left out, and or mixed up in any way I apologize and will rectally, wait, no, rectify your whiny and anal-retentive concerns and complaints as they flood toward me in a torrent of tumultuous tirades. I would also like to thank the dictionary in my Mac, without whom the spelling would have been atroshious, wait..., atrocious.

Sincerely and with all humility,

Dave (Madak)

Cats in the Marketplace--or--Why DonZAbel really should have embraced pacifism this time around

Prolth's keen senses were tingling. Something was very wrong with the woman standing by the stall and the man lounging near the deck adjoining a well kept-up building behind him. After all, how could they not be enjoying his dancing and Pan pipe playing?

Once again Prolth's superior intelligence had assessed the situation and he had immediately taken the action necessary. He, Madak, and Ydenzyk had just been joyously reunited with a resurrected DonZAbel and the gnome that had made that possible, good Aleska. Prolth knew that a conference was in order, there were topics that needed to be discussed and plans that needed to be made, but that would be hard to do with far too many ears around them. And so Prolth danced. He danced a jig that far out-jigged the kinds of jigs these somber Sombarians were used to, and topped it all off with his ever-charming Pan pipe playing. This of course gathered a crowd and not a small number of coins at his feet--these Prolth entrusted to a somewhat slow man that was eager to speak with an entertainer of Prolth's caliber. Sent on his mission to provide ale and bread for all those gathered, the man set off to the sound of Prolth's clapping and heartfelt proclamation of his new mayorship--we all need to feel good about ourselves from time to time--followed by nearly all of the other villagers who had been gathered in the marketplace. They now had the privacy they needed.

Yet for some reason his comrades failed to follow Prolth behind the building where he wished to speak with them and remained in the center of the market, gawking lamely and milling about. Ydenzyk had the good sense to go and hide himself, keeping his eyes on the suspicious layabout near the deck, but Madak, DonZAbel, and Aleska stood there with their hands in their metaphoric pockets, chewing the cud as it were. Realizing that only his superior leadership could salvage the situation, Prolth quietly moved back towards the group; it was then that Fortune smiled on him as she often does on her favored creatures, the satyrs. Prolth noticed that the woman standing near the stall was nodding in a conspiratorial way at the man near the deck, in a way that indicated to him that she was not at all what she seemed. Wasting no time, Prolth reached for his magically baned mace and swung through the air near her with enough force to make his point but not enough to hurt the woman should the blow have landed. Startled, she cried out in a falsetto so false that Prolth's worst doubts were confirmed.

Madak, seeing what had happened, called out to Prolth asking what was going on. Prolth informed him that the woman and the man were evil spies and ne'er-do-wells, information which sent Madak into a howling rage and caused him to charge at the woman, swinging wildly with his greataxe. Yet even the mighty Madak missed his mark, this was a foe indeed. Battle had been joined.

The lounger near the deck now started lopping towards the group still in the center of the marketplace, joined by what appeared to be a little girl, heading straight towards DonZAbel, his wolf Gorak, and Aleska. Hedging his bets, DonZAbel turned himself into a canary and took flight, chirping happily in an apparent bid to amuse his attackers, and ordering Gorak to stand his ground should he be attacked. Aleska, on the other hand, reached into his magical bag and produced out of it a creature of awesome skills and power, a mechanical Xill that he called Igor and that looked like its four arms could slice through just about anything. Ydenzyk, quietly watching all this from his hiding place near the building with the deck, waited for his chance to strike.

The woman flanked by Madak and Prolth squealed some nonsense about being innocent and rushed to the other side of the stall, getting a taste of Madak's potent greataxe as she went. The blade cut deep but seemed to not do the damage it might. Prolth, ready once more to defend his allies and promote justice for the downtrodden as he wrought havoc on evil oppressors everywhere, fearlessly and without heed for his own safety drew his bow and struck the little girl with an arrow that pierced deep into her flesh. He was not afraid of this female child.

Aleska took to the air, flying above the now bright yellow DonZAbel, and ordered Igor into the combat. Gorak growled and prepared to bite as the man and girl in front of him suddenly metamorphosed into hissing cat-men armed with swords and wearing shields. The woman near the stall changed into a similar creature, hideous to behold in her feline frenzy, unarmed but blistering with magic. She pulled a scroll from her bag and cast a mighty fireball on the group in the market, scorching a helpless civilian along with the party, and then moved to crouch behind a nearby building.

DonZAbel, Gorak, and Igor took the brunt of the damage, while Aleska managed to dodge most of it and Madak elegantly avoided all of the blast. DonZAbel struck back with a lightning storm on the wretched sorceress, doing mighty natural damage to her. Madak moved in to strike at one of the cat-men, his axe's sharp edge finding home but then somehow, inexplicably, dropped to the ground. Gorak lay unconscious on the ground, his soft breathing reminding DonZAbel of how he looked in sleep, and his canary heart filled with affection for his animal lover. Igor too struck out at a cat-man, but the damage done was not what one would expect it to be, and Prolth's arrow too failed to find its mark this time. Aleska's magic missiles, however, did not, and burned into one of the cat-men.

Ydenzyk then acted with the ferocity common to his kind, unleashing a flurry of arrows into the sorceress and doing terrible harm to her. She answered with another raging fireball that consumed DonZAbel, Gorak, and Igor completely. A pair of tears rolled from Prolth's eyes as he saw DonZAbel, only just brought back to life a mere week ago, once more slain in the midst of battle. At least this time he died with his beloved, though not, unfortunately, snuggled amidst Gorak's legs. Madak struck out, bringing down a cat-man with the terrible might of his vegenance, Aleska once more hit back with his magic missiles, and Ydenzyk let loose another storm of arrows that sent the sorceress cat-woman to her goddess. Prolth, taking careful aim from a hidden position to make the most of his stunning marksmanship, drew and released an arrow that was shot so skillfully one could easily have mistaken it for magic. Prolth's arrow splintered through the remaining cat-man's shield, entered through his eye and came to a stop deep in his head, bringing down the last remaining foe.

Satisfied with the sound of the approaching city guard, whom Prolth had been calling on the remaining stunned villagers to summon, the party looted the bodies of the dead and then informed the newly arrived guardsmen of Prolth's heroism in discovering such vile evil-doers who had somehow infiltrated the good city of Sombar, and the party's prowess in dispatching them. The day had once more been won, but the party mourned the loss of their druid friend, his wolven life partner, and Aleska's latest creation. A bittersweet sensation filled Prolth, and he knew that this would not be the last they saw of these cat-like creatures.