PrP: Fistful of Chitlins

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The job seemed to be simple enough. The note was posted in a flowery script at the notice board at the Guild of Explorer's, "Monster Hunters sought for components. Excellent pay for one day's work. Inquire at the Gilded Ivy Inn ." The inn was in the noble's district, a waystation for courtiers and the entourages that don't warrant their own guest bedrooms at their hosts' manors. Your taskmaster for this plot happens to be Master Chef Lieto, gnomish chef of no small renown, hailing from Rune. It seems that he has a wedding to cater next week and the bride requested a special delicacy to be served, Mimic Sweetbreads. He had a delivery lined up, but it fell through and he has to get the organs within the next week to prepare them in time, so he has used his connections to find a mimic within Alexandria . Between his mundane inquiries and divination magics, Lieto has isolated a mimic to a block on Old Mill road. He just needs some adventurers to kill it cleanly and get the organs back to him in a timely fashion. And for that, a bounty of 250 gold pieces has been negotiated.

It's a cold winters afternoon and this particular block of Old Mill road is a little more depressing than most. Smog and smoke stained brick rowhouses are riddled with cracks in the mortar, the goblin tenants doing their best to keep their houses from caving in. A burned out temple to Reos has been looted of anything valueable, the charred support beams jutting out of the scorched ground. A massive factory and foundry dominates the area, laying abandoned for years, part of the roof caved in. WHAT DO YOU DO?

A cold afternoon or not, Garrin's taken his hat off, his wide-brimmed, floppy hat with a feather in it, and is standing in front of the factory in question. He's straightening out some rumples in the hat and cleaning some dirt off its feather. "Well. TGuess this the place. I'm told these things are pretty dangerous, actually, so it's not like getting rid of it is a terrible crime. Does anyone know anything about 'em aside from the fact that they, you know, mimic things?" He's glancing back and forth bewteen the others who've come here.

"They are, apparently, super tasty and quite the delicacy," Minka replies to Garrin with a little shrug. "Not that I know how to hunt them. I guess... maybe you give them something to mimic? I have no idea." She pulls off the chain of bells she had around her waist and tucks them in her pack; helps for stealth if one doesn't jingle.

<OOC> Marek says, "Throw down some knowledge/dungeoneering if you have it."

GAME: Garrin rolls Knowledge/Dungeoneering: (17)+11: 28

GAME: Shaelyn rolls knowledge/dungeoneering: (13)+8: 21

<OOC> Marek says, "Collectively, you pick your brains and come to agreement that Mimics can change shape to about something the size of a door, they have a nasty adhesive that alcohol or universal solvent can dissolve, they are immune to acid, and they are moderately intelligent."

Shaelyn grunts a bit at the others, and she says. "Seems like a simple enough job." To the others. She's wearing her plate armor. She has her axe slung over her shoulder, and a shield buckled to her arm.

"Should be. But these things aren't stupid at all," says Garrin, running a hand through his hair and putting his hat back on, "and it can be anything in here, within a certain size range. You'll know it if your hands stick to it. I'm Garrin, by the way. Garrin Goodmountain. This thing is likely to be pretty hostile. I heard a story one time about how a mimic swallowed this one guy *whole* when he knocked on the door it was pretending to be." A solemn nod follows. "*Whole*."

"That sounds like a nasty fate," Minka observes, wrinkling her nose at Garrin. "But it's a pleasure to meet you. M'name's Minka."

The factory looms overhead, grey and bleak, made even more so by the weak overcast light of the winter's day. The ivy covered masonry walls sag in a few spots, some partially crumbled to expose the steel beam supports that keep this massive building aloft. The main sliding doors are chained shut with a primitive but rusted lock, but a normal sized person could squeeze through the gap if the door was pried back as far as it could go.

"All right. Let's hope its not pretending to be the door." Garrin pauses for a moment, then eyes Shaelyn, "I can slip in if you'll force it open a bit." He has a drink from the flask he's brought with him. Hey, no sense in *not* having a drink of the alcoholic beverage if there's an opportunity.

Shaelyn shakes her head at Garrin then. "If we send ye in alone, ye might get dragged off 'fore we can get in to help." she informs him then. She steps up to the lock then, and readies her axe to wedge it in the lock and give it a few good yanks to try and wrench the doors open- unless someone else stops her.

Zerridwyn hops along with the party, quite enthused by the prospect of meeting a shapechanging critter she has never heard of before. On the way to the destination, she has been chattering incessantly about how exciting it is. Once they reach the factory, she stops and looks at it. "What if it's a trap? Maybe a mimic set up the mission information so we'd go here and get eaten! Can they look like people?"

Minka is totally still here, and totally still paying attention. Probably. She meanders over to investigate the door. "I think we could probably shimmy through that, if we needed to," she observes thoughtfully. "But it'd make a hasty retreat more difficult."

With two good tugs, the axe head snaps the rusted lock in twain, the thick padlock tumbling to the dirt with a thud. With a little effort, the sliding doors open with a metal-on-metal screech of protest and a spear of weak daylight stabs into the factory, giving you a glimpse at the stone block flooring stained with years of soot build up. A trio of bats sleeping near the door, startled at the sudden encroach of sunlight, flutter wildly out into the daylight to find a new roost in the awning of a nearby building. The feeble daylight illuminates a shadowly outline of some catwalk that crisscrosses the factory floor about 20 feet up.

"Man, I hope not," says Garrin with a laugh. "The last thing I want to do is retreat. Then we probably don't get paid. But let's hope this thing is actually hostile. I don't want to kill something for no good reason. The stories always indicate they are, thouh, so.." He runs a hand over the top of his head again, puts his back on one more time, and then waits for Shaelyn's inevitable 'Shaelyn Smash' moment. Once it does, yeah, Garrin is gonna go right on in.

Minka says, "I think we're killing it because someone else wants to eat it," Minka points out to Garrin. "So it's all good. Purposeful death.""

Shaelyn wrenches her axe this way and that, with horrible metallic grinding noises. She finally snaps the chain holding the lock, and it clatters noisily to the gorund. She then kicks the doors open, for good measure. And walks into the dark room. She rests her axe over her shoulder.

Suprisingly, it's not the darkness that overwhelms your senses as you each step inside the confines of this massive factory. It's the moisture. Melting snow leaks down from the many holes in the tin roof, permeating you all with a cold damp chill. But on the bright side, the caved in portion of the roof and the dozens of pinholes give you a good albiet shadowy view of the factory. It stretches almost 150 yards long and 20 yards wide, 15 yards tall with a catwalk and network of tracts and cables to hoist foundry vats and other heavy objects. Forges and blast furnaces, or at least the non-mobile rusted out remains of them are built into the ground. Suprisingly, very little has been scrapped for the metal, as most buildings in this area is. The smell of death that lingers in the air is probably the reason why. Those of you with darkvision can notice a moldering pair of goblin bodies, several weeks dead. They lie next to a bulging canvas sack of metal pipe and other scrap. Their heads are each stoven in, increasing the miasma of death even more. Creaks and the banging of swinging chains echo across the walls, leaving you wondering where any attack may come from.

Shaelyn frowns a bit at the goblin corpses, and wrinkles her nose a bit. "Stink even worse when they're dead." She comments then, and makes her way further into the dark room. "But I'd wager our quarry is near." She informs the others, as she advances cautiously.

"..okay, so no more concerns about killing something that doesn't need to be killed," says Garrin, firmly, at the sight of the goblins. He actually looks nearly as green as a goblin normally is at the sight of them. A few arcane words are muttered thereafter, though, and small stone he's pulled from his pocket begins to glow. It's enough light to see by, at least, more easily.

GAME: Garrin casts Light.

Zerridwyn frowns at the deeper darkness beyond what her elf eyes can see. Once Garrin's light is up, she seems more at ease. "Oh, that's better. I think I better do something before bad things try to eat us like those... huh." She starts casting a spell, wrapping herself in arcane protection.

GAME: Zerridwyn casts mage armor.

Minka scans the room thoughtfully, wrinkling up her nose. "Gross. And they're grosser dead. Ugh," she complains, preparing herself for an attack by pulling out a bow and notching an arrow to it.

GAME: Shaelyn rolls perception-2: (8)+0+-2: 6

GAME: Minka rolls perception-2: (18)+6+-2: 22

GAME: Zerridwyn rolls perception-2: (5)+5+-2: 8

GAME: Garrin rolls perception-2: (18)+5+-2: 21

You paged (Garrin, Minka) with 'You happen to catch a bit of moment at the corner of your eye above and two the left. You see a chain going taut and you follow it a shadowy lump on the catwalk just beyond the edge of your light and darkvision. Following the chain in the other direction leads it to a small foundry vat above the party, slowly tilting out from the pulling of the chain.

Page me your suprise round actions and then roll/pose em.'

"...what the hell? Look out!" Garrin is diving the hell out of the way of *something* he just saw. "Move! Move!" He's yelling to the others, trying desperately to warn then to, well.. *something*. His light waves wildly like this is the Alexandrian Witch Project.

GAME: Zerridwyn rolls reflex: (12)+3: 15

"Up there! On the catwalk!" Minka calls as she suddenly moves. "It's going to dump the vat! Get out of the way fast!" Apparently Garrin has seen it too, for her cries echo his.

GAME: Shaelyn rolls reflex: (10)+4: 14

GAME: Marek rolls 2d6: (7): 7

GAME: Marek damaged Shaelyn for 7 points. 36 remaining.

Shaelyn is not very quick. She grunts, and looks up at the warnings. "Bollocks." she utters as the vat's contents no doubt come pouring down ontopp of her.

Being a diviner has its advantages. Zerridwyn feels something coming in the back of her mind. Something like an oncoming rush of doom. She almost trips over herself in panic and dives out of the predicted path. "Bleargh!" The elf is not particularly coherent right now.

With the warning cries from Shaelyn and Garrin giving the rest of the party a fighting chance, Zerridwyn moves away entirely as soon as or before the warning were even shouted, despite being unaware of the foundry vat upending above her. Shaelyn is not so lucky, as white powder dusts her back and puffs into an ashy cloud all around her. Then the burning starts, eating away at every moist part of her body, which is a good bit, given the dripping meltwater.

Zerridwyn rolls initiative: Roll: 16 + Bonus: 4 = Total: 20

Garrin rolls initiative: Roll: 5 + Bonus: 3 = Total: 8

You roll initiative for Mimic: Roll: 16 + Bonus: +5 = Total: 21

Shaelyn rolls initiative: Roll: 4 + Bonus: 3 = Total: 7

Minka rolls initiative: Roll: 13 + Bonus: 3 = Total: 16

===== Current Initiative Order =========
 21                  Mimic
 20                  Zerridwyn
 16                  Minka
 8                   Garrin
 7                   Shaelyn

GAME: Marek rolls 1d20+10: (9)+10: 19

GAME: Zerridwyn rolls strength: (17)+3: 20

GAME: Marek rolls 1d20+6: (9)+6: 15

GAME: Marek rolls 1d8+6: (8)+6: 14

Before any real reaction to the surprise attack can mount, the creature lurches forward, it's disguise as a foundry vat laying on the catwalk still mostly in place as two crude arms grab ahold of a nearby chain and leap forward, sending the aberration sliding forward at a breakneck pace toward Zerridwen. All 900 lbs of the shapechanger slam into the elven wizard, spinning her like a top with a massive wallop, but she doesn't fly backwards into the cloud of lye with her ally Shaelyn. With a burst of strength, she deflects the blow aside and swings the mimic, now glued to her, into the cloud while staying out of it herself.

GAME: Marek damaged Zerridwyn for 14 points. 10 remaining.

GAME: Zerridwyn rolls melee+1: (17)+5+1: 23

GAME: Zerridwyn rolls 1d6+3: (1)+3: 4

GAME: Zerridwyn rolls reflex: (9)+3: 12

GAME: Marek damaged Shaelyn for 7 points. 36 remaining.

Zerridwyn flails as she's struck by the sticky monstrosity. "Augh, get it off!" She can't get her magic to work while stuck like this so draws out a curved sword, shorter than the main weapon hooked to a strap over her back. She swings into the mimic, slicing it but finding herself unable to pull the weapon back out.

GAME: Minka rolls 1d100: (2): 2

GAME: Minka rolls ranged+1: (8)+4+1: 13

Minka throws a bottle of booze hopefully into the lye cloud, trying to unstick her new ally. Alas, it misses and splooshes somewhere else.

GAME: Garrin rolls 1d100: (91): 91

GAME: Garrin rolls 1d20+5: (3)+5: 8

GAME: Marek rolls 2d6: (8): 8

GAME: Marek damaged Shaelyn for 8 points. 28 remaining.

"Holy hells!" Garrin is horrified. He scurries back several steps and fires a bolt of white light from his hand. Unfortunately, his shot is wild. Completely wild. At least he's got his mana stone back in place, though, and is again providing light. Proper lighting.

GAME: Shaelyn rolls 1d100: (10): 10

Shaelyn lets out a howl of rage and pain as the lye burns at her body, and she bursts from the cloud, trailing dust and coughing as it burns her eyes and her throat. She swings her axe wildly, in a rage, and only manages to smash up the scenery.

GAME: Shaelyn rolls 1d20+7+1: (17)+7+1: 25

GAME: Marek rolls 1d20+9: (18)+9: 27

GAME: Marek rolls 1d8+6: (5)+6: 11

GAME: Marek damaged Zerridwyn for 11 points. -1 remaining.

The black tar-like ooze creature, half shrouded from the cloud of caustic particles that float in the dank air, writhes, tentacles lashing back and forth like a not quite as nasty looking version of John Carpenter's The Thing. Zerridwyn bears the brunt of this violence, as the creature lashes out with more tendrils, sending the wizard limp and ragdoll, to be dragged into the lye cloud to meet her doom were it not for the skill of Shaelyn.

GAME: Minka rolls 1d8+2: (2)+2: 4

GAME: Marek damaged Zerridwyn for -4 points. 3 remaining.

GAME: Minka casts cure light wounds.

And her brother said that being a spellcaster was a bad thing! Minka approaches the unconscious Zerridwyn and lays on the healing magic quietly, but in a pleasantly sing-songy way.

GAME: Garrin rolls 2d4+2: (6)+2: 8

When Zerridwyn falls, Garrin lets out a surprised cry, then a pair of arcane words come from him. He's keeping an eye on Minka as she tends to the fallen elf and steps back, trying to draw the creature's attention to him. The bolts that streak forth from his hand, those magical missiles, strike the mimic firmly.

"Yeah! Take that, you shape changing.. thing!"

GAME: Shaelyn rolls 1d20+8: (16)+8: 24

GAME: Shaelyn rolls 1d20+8: (5)+8: 13

GAME: Shaelyn rolls 1d100: (92): 92

GAME: Shaelyn rolls 1d100: (53): 53

GAME: Shaelyn rolls reflex: (19)+4: 23

GAME: Shaelyn rolls 1d10+3: (1)+3: 4

Shaelyn manages to spot the creature trying to get back into the cloud with Zer, and she growls, "Get back here!" at it, and uses the flat edge of her axe to smack the creature back away from the caustic cloud. "And pick on someone yer own size!" nevermind she's short. It's spirit that counts. She follows this comment up by launching into an attack agaisnt the creature, attempting to slam her shield into it, spikes and all, and follow up with a smack of her axe hilt to somewhere vital looking. Finally, providing she's not thoroughly entangled by now, she'll attempt to lop off a couple of the tentacles with the blade. Although the shield goes wide, simpl dispersing the dust further, the axe finds its target and hacks into one of the tentacles, failing to slice all the way through. She then lifts a booted foot to kick the creature back, and wrench her axe free of its viscous surface.

GAME: Marek rolls 1d20+8: (5)+8: 13

The mimic thrashes wildly as Shaelyn slices it open and Garrin blasts chunks of it's viscera away. It flutters through a symphony of red and black colors and different textures that would indicate it was crazy pissed off if any of you knew Mimic body language. Concentration on the closest thing at hand presenting a threat, it lashes a thick tendril out at Shaelyn, doing nothing but leaving a sticky residue on her shield.

For a moment, Zerridwyn is unconscious from the crushing grasp of the mimic. After being restored, she opens her eyes again to find that she's still stuck. With nothing else to attack the thing with, she focuses all her movement into guarding herself against its attacks.

GAME: Minka rolls ranged-1: (14)+4+-1: 17

GAME: Minka rolls 1d6+2: (4)+2: 6

Minka is still near Zerridwyn when she pulls out her bow to try to take a chunk out of this thing. And it quivers when she sinks an arrow into it.

GAME: Garrin rolls 1d20+1: (1)+1: 2

So Garrin is totally pointing his hand back at the mimic and the fight going on! He takes aim! He points at it with his hand! THis can't be too big a deal! His hand begins to glow! Glow brightly, actually and then.. nothing happens. He tries aga8in. And again! Still nothing. He looks down at his hand and eyeballs it. "Why is this spell not wor- OW!" He totally just blasted himself in the face. Thankfully, he didn't actually manage to blind himself.

GAME: Shaelyn rolls 1d20+8: (20)+8: 28

GAME: Shaelyn rolls 1d20+8: (19)+8: 27

GAME: Shaelyn rolls 1d20+8: (5)+8: 13

GAME: Shaelyn rolls 2d10+6: (14)+6: 20

GAME: Shaelyn rolls reflex: (6)+4: 10

GAME: Shaelyn rolls 1d10+3: (3)+3: 6

GAME: Marek rolls 1d20+8: (2)+8: 10

With the creature dead, Shaelyn looses the buckle on her shield, allowing it to hang loosely from her elbow as she grabs her axe in both ahnds. She begins wrenching it this way and that, with horrible squelching noises as she tries to work it free from the creature's adhesive innards. Evencually she manages to pull it loose with a ssschluurp sound. Ther'es a chunk of it still stuck to the blade.

The mimic, festooned with weapons, elf wizards, arrows, and grevious mortal wounds, has fallen back to a simple reptilian brain fight or flight instinct, and it has chosen the former. It lashes out wildly at the dwarven warrior, unable to land a blow on her.

Zerridwyn is not having fun. Not only has she taken some serious beatings, she's also largely enveloped in this awful, sticky glue. With what little movement she has left, the elf continues keeping her focus on avoiding any more damage.

GAME: Minka rolls ranged-1: (18)+4+-1: 21

GAME: Minka rolls 1d6+2: (5)+2: 7

One more arrow, nice and true, into the beast, and then it collapses in a pile of goo. Mmm, goo. With her bow in hand, Minka waits to be sure it's dead before opening a bottle of booze and pouring it liberally upon Zerridwyn in an effort to unstick the elf.

Once it dies, Garrin looks relieved, still rubbing the purple sparklers out of his eyes. "Taara's tits, that was horrible. Hey! Zerridwyn! Are you okay?" He's heading over to hep pull her off the creature since, 'yknow, horribly stuck.

Zerridwyn yells as the alcohol is applied to her wounded body. "Aaah! Hey, ow! Ah!" She rolls out, unstuck from the creature but is not seeming very thankful while distracted by the pain.

With a little alcohol and some effort, Zerridwyn is freed, as are your weapons. The task of harvesting the mimic organs is a long one, as the entirety of them weigh a little over a hundred pounds and makes the inside of a Tauntaun smell like Old Spice in comparison. A search of the warehouse turns up (X Amount of Treasure), items of value collected by the creature or left on it's many victims. You secure your loot against the tide of incoming scavengers and scrappers that are brave enough once the monster is dead. A long, disgusting wagon ride to the nobles district sees your prize handed over to Master Chef Leito, a good portion of which is spent on many many hot baths.