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Zyf's Journal Part 34
And now, part 34 of the Journals of Zyf, devoted of Myn
The Room at the Top of the Stairs
“You. Should. Not. Be. Here,” said a tall cloaked figure opposite them. “The. Master. Is. Not. Prepared. For. Visitors.”
“Announce us, then, and be quick about it,” said Zyf, “we have no time to trifle with pleasantries.”
The statuesque figure turned mechanically and entered a small door while Zyf’s Talons surveyed their current location which was filled with dozens of stone statues all of the same woman’s face and form.
“The. Master. Will. See. One. Of. You,” said the figure silently emerging from the door. “No. More.”
“I’ll go,” said Quintain, “this may be the end to our quest for the magical potion that will ease all elven suffering.”
The rest of the party rolled their eyes at that optimistic remark.
“What you doing, Zyf?” asked Smuj as he watched the dwarven cleric marking the faces of the statues in the room with chalk.
“I’m marking the faces of the statues in the room with chalk, Smuj; I fear that these may be decoys in an upcoming battle,” replied the foresighted priest.
“He’s dead, Zyf,” said Quintain coming out of the room just then followed by the robed figure, “there’s nothing here for us.”
“Welcome to the house,” said a girlish voice from the main entrance, “now you can stay and play with me.”
“Yes. Stay. And. Play. With. Us,” said the robed figure raising her arms high as the windows blew open and mist crept into the room. Tapestries near the rear wall pumped like a bellows spreading the cloaking mist throughout the room.
“Eeeps!” screamed Flann. ((STONE SKIN))
“Eeeps!” screamed Quintain. ((GREATER INVISIBILITY))
“Eeeps!” screamed Emma. ((HIDE IN SHADOWS))
“What..?” asked Smuj cutting the little girl in half with his great spear and setting the carpet on fire.
“Crap,” said Zyf, master tactician, who, realizing that the fog was a serious impediment for the party, began tearing the nearest tapestry off the wall. His mighty dwarven arms flexed like living granite as the first tapestry fell in a heap.
Like a relentless northern glacier, the robed figure advanced on Flann and backhanded the hapless sorceror to the floor; fortunately his defensive spells absorbed the brunt of the vicious attack. And then she was lost in the fog filling the room.
“My turn,” said Flann. ((DISINTEGRATE)) “Gah, dammit all, that did nuthin’.”
“How about this then,” said Quintain. ((GREASE)) “Ha-ha, that’ll be a hindrance to both our sides, look at me being Mr. Neutral!”
“Suck arrows bitch!” yelled Emma, ((P-twang, P-twang)). “Cripes, they bounced right off of her!”
“Smuj can’t see her. Smuj will now swing blindly into the fray hoping for the best,” said Smuj breaking a statue into small pieces.
Zyf ran to the other tapestry and like the first, tore it from its frame. The mist in the room settled and the group looked for their foe through a sea of immobile imposters.
Springing out of the forest of stone dopplegangers like a northern snow-cat, the figure brushed aside Smuj’s great spear and pummelled him unmercifully before darting back into the thicket of replicas.
“Smuj, duck and cover!” yelled Flann. ((FIREBALL with ACID modifier)) “What in the world? That did nuthin’ neither? Right, I’m jinxed. See yas.” And with that the cavalier sorceror beat a hasty retreat through the burning doorway.
“She has some sort of damage reduction,” said Quintain. “Emma, take these adamantium tipped arrows and let fly.”
“Suck arrows bitch!” yelled Emma, ((P-twang, P-twang)). “Hah! Bounce that suck-AHH!”
“Smuj is mad now and Smuj is now berserk,” said Smuj swinging wildly at the fleeing figure, his great spear finding no purchase.
“Break the statues, and look for the chalk marks,” commanded Zyf, the Foresighted, as he bull-rushed several near-by statues and knocked them over in a heap of rubble.
And then, she was there, right in front of Zyf and the interesting thing to the cleric was the expression on her face, or more accurately, the lack of expression. There was no anger, no remorse, nothing; just blank eyes and a perfect alabaster complexion, and then her fist was screaming toward the dwarf’s chiseled jaw with the power of a stone giant. ((KER-BLAM!)) And her fist shattered into a hundred tiny pieces against the stern, yet ruggedly handsome chin whiskers of the dwarf known only as Zyf. Silence filled the great hall as if a switch had been thrown and the figure, now revealed to be a stone golem, crumbled into dust releasing a spirit from within.
“You have saved me,” said the whispy feminine figure in an airy voice, ’long have I been bound to this stony shape. For too long has Yaga controlled me and kept me from my Vasily, now I will weep for him and join him in the afterlife…farewell…" And with that, she faded out of view forever more.
“We must find Yaga,” said Zyf now that the battle was done. “She is the cause of this town’s misery. Search this building, find a clue to her whereabouts; the sooner we’re out of here, the better. And, go fetch Flann.”
Still more reading awaits you in Chapter 35 of Zyf’s Travel Journals! Your guide to all things truthful in these dark times.
Or, better yet, read all of Zyf’s words and be awakened to the possibilities of awesome.
