Wednesday, January 16, 2013

Episode 73: My Name is Xeno Montoya...

Xene sped up the hillside path as only a gnome can: a whir of knees and toes beneath a pointed hat. But pursuing a grown human male on foot as a gnome proved slightly more mathematically daunting than Xeno had anticipated, and by the time he got close to the fleeing Count he had already met up with a team of confederates, obviously lying in wait to whisk him away after the overly tame Muralian shaming ritual. 

A minimum of visual confirmation was required for Xeno to start screaming epithets and readying the dreaded Forked Finger, and as Fundus fled the scene with the majority of his retinue, a few of his finest footmen were dispatched to rid the planet of the pesky gnome that by now was haunting Fundus' dreams.

In a bizarre, extradimensional cross between The Charge of the Light Brigade, Teddy Roosevelt's charge up San Juan Hill and a Burning Man festival, the six soldiers on horseback charged up the hill in order to trample the nuisensical gnome. But a die roll, some chaos and a fine, three-year-old steed named Beucephalus came together in one beautifully horrid moment; a moment forever enshrined in the anals (sic) of gaming history by the creation of the phrase "horse napalm".

It was not pretty.

And while five of the noble steeds and their riders perished in one awful, stinking moment, one poor beast survived - burns over 93% of it's body - to be forcefully mounted by Xeno and plunged madly, feverishly back down the hill.

Fundus, seeing yet another slow, mad car crash of chaos unfurl before his eyes turns on his heels (or, more aptly, his horse's heels) and attempts to flee. Having a superior  fully-functioning steed looked to be a great advantage, but this is where Xeno's hot-and-heavy relationship with Chaos levels the field.

Xeno attempts to slow Fundus, but instead causes a candleheaded replica of himself to fly forth from his forked finger and sieze Fundus, throw him to the ground and choke the living crap out of him. The remaining men-at-arms, seeing their leader basically throttled to death by a spastic manchild, turn and flee towards a black-sailed boat that sits waiting at the end of the long pier that juts out into a cold mountain lake. Some orcs can be seen on board the ship. None appear anxious to debark and confront Xeno...

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