The bearded man leads Francis into a cavern made of ice. It is filled with leathery things that look like barrels…except they’re not barrels…they’re…oh God…are they things…
“What the hell are these things?”
“It is difficult to explain…these were the original owners of this complex. Aliens from a distant star. They inhabited Earth in the past, an Elder Race of beings. They probably will not take well to people summoning a dark god here.”
“What do we need to do?”
“Warm them up. I was thinking of an oil fire.”
“I have some of my special cocktails.”
With the help of the “O’Donnell cocktails” they quickly start a fire.
“I don’t know how you could have travelled with M’weru for so long without realizing who she was.”
Francis shrugs. “I really didn’t know who she was.”
Several of the barrels suddenly sprout long, filigreed limbs…webbed like wings…and five sluglike limbs. They hop up. One approaches Francis and quick as lightning…grabs his lightning gun. It whistles for a few moments as it swiftly examines the weapon, then hands it back.
Francis whistles back. The “barrel” starts forward but is dragged back by its companions.
“Probably telling him you’re not worth it in their language,” says the bearded man wryly. “We should let our…friends do their work. You do not want to go out there.”
“I know,” says Francis. They follow the aliens until they approach the gigantic chamber, then turn aside.
Behind them they hear the cries of ecstasy turn into screams of surprise…and then pain.
The flare erupts around M’Weru, outlining her in fire as the mystic shield she has woven around her absorbs most of the damage. The guard open up on Jimmy, but his armor turns away some of the bullets. The ricochets that are headed for Hypatia turn into flowers and flutter down to the floor.
“James!” says M’Weru.
Jimmy laughs mindlessly and unconcerned with the bullets raining down around him draws his gun.
Freddie grabs the Sword and chops a guard’s head off.
The Rev rolls behind the couch as soon as the guns go off. The cobra continues to whisper into his ear, speaking, explaining…translating.
Translating the “Latin” of his book, the cipher his “bibble” is written in. The cipher that Charleston had written all his spells, all his notes from the Al-Azif, the cipher that the Reverend couldn’t read…but Charleston could.
The snake continues to whisper, driving sanity and light from the mind of the Rev.
Jimmy sees the enormous form of the Dark Lord spin and turn into a whirlwind, heading out of Mt. Ross to spread tidal waves and destruction.
At that moment Francis and the bearded man burst into the door. Francis electrocutes one of the guards, and the bearded man shoots another with his own lightning gun.
Jimmy turns calmly, without concern, and shoots the last guard dead.
M’Weru turns, and gestures to Mirabelle. “Come to me, my child.”
[CP: I assume she’s nuts too.
Me: Not really.
FP: She’s a demigod, she doesn’t have PC limits.
CP and I have the same excellent but eccentric piano teacher, so I offered this up: It’s like what he says about 13th chords—that to him, that’s just normal harmony? To her, this is just…Daddy.]
“Mirabelle, you don’t have to go with her,” says Freddie. “She really can’t stop you if she wants to.”
“She said she’d hurt mommy.”
“I don’t think she really can hurt either of you.”
Mwimbe hesitates, caught on the horns of a dilemma—her only threat is to use the Dagger of Thoth on Mirabelle…defeating her whole cause, and angering the Dark Lord.
[OP: N doesn’t really care about his progeny.
Me: He has a complicated relationship with them…
CP: But that’s the irony! He’d still kill Mwimbe anyway!
Me: Yeah, he is kind of a dick…his portfolio is basically dickishness…]
Freddie steps forward and thrusts the Sword into M’weru.
[FP pointed out that Pearkes had once thrown the sword. I weakly protested that “But that was Pearkes,” but it seems to be workable, just with a big minus.
FP then went hunting for an Investigative spend to help the roll.
FP: Howabout Art History? I saw all those paintings demonstrating techniques.
Me: I’ve seen those pictures, they’re not useful as a manual. Besides, Art History for Freddie is basically standing around in the British Museum looking at all the stuff they stole.
FP: Howabout a Flattery spend on the GM?
Me: I am immune to Flattery.
CP: Anthropology? Because you’d have to learn about throwing weapons?
Me: Enh, not primitive enough. If it was a spear or an atlatl…
CP: It has a similar arm motion…
Me: So does throwing darts and masturbating, but it’s not really applicable.
CP: I’ve got a new euphemism—“Throwing a scimitar.”
Then we realized FP could just charge forward and attack.]
The Sword of Akmallah hits the mystic shield, and slides through it slowly, inevitably. M’Weru watches with a desperate look in her eyes as the blade cuts down into her shoulder.
[FP, to OP: How ruthless are you?
OP: Pretty ruthless.
FP: We’ve already established that the Sword conducts electricity…]
Francis charges in and fires his lightning gun point blank…at the hilt of the Sword. Electricity arcs around Freddie’s hands, flowing down the blade, and thoroughly cooking the former Dr. Mwimbe. Both Freddie and Francis shriek as the feedback flings them across the room.
Freddie staggers up. “Mirabelle, are you all right?”
“You killed the nice lady.”
“She wasn’t actually that nice.”
“You’ll take me back to my mommy?”
“That’s the general idea, yes.”
“Will it help with my bad dreams?”
“I…really don’t know. Now you, sir,” he says, addressing the bearded man, “Who in blazes are you?”
“I am friend. You remember, long time ago? In New York? About ”http://www.story-games.com/forums/discussion/comment/412151">Mary Rider? You go to Chelsea, talk to her husband? Was me who called. You, I must show. Important thing. Explains everything."
“Can we do it not here?”
“We must do it not here. I have to take you down, to secret port below mountain.”
“Gents,” says Freddie.
“We’re going to take care of that equipment,” says Francis. Jimmy starts to nod. He nods rather too long before Francis stops him.
“Mirabelle, come along. Oh, and Hypatia—”
But there’s no one there.