What's all this barmy stuff?
Want to find out what has been forgotten in the Styx?
Not enough barminess for you?
We have some Cipher jokes today. Any true cipher surly grinning, chuckling, or groaning as the case may be instantly after reading them. Or you could just laugh out loud right now, get right to the point so to speak, and beat the rush. Make sure to laugh at them to balance against all the groans eh berk?
"What did Factol Rys do when someone called
"Ever wondered what they keep in the Great
"Know how to get allot of Ciphers in one
"What do you get if you cross a Cipher with a
bar of soap?"
I woke up, my vision blurring, feeling like two months worth of time had decided to smash itself into my face. The room shifted into view, thick beams crossing the roof with cobwebs hanging from metal girding of the spiky persuasion, which I was getting a good view of strapped as I was to a table. This is not as alarming as it sounds, I had been strapped to tables before, why the one in the old Gatehouse has the knot just behind the back... Something caught my attention, and turning my head to the side I could make out a long desk, more a workbench with rows of all types of interesting items, scrolls, and books, and rising from a chair was some type of creature. As he turned I could make out his face, the jackalish features of an arcanaloth, but where ever arcanaloth I'd seen looked well, fiendish, then one seemed to look a bit young and soppy. A pair of silver glasses graced his snout, having enough springs and monocles attached to make a modron hop for joy.
"Er?", I said, always best to start off with the old multiversal sayings in cases like this.
"You awake to evil mortal! Um, the straps aren't to tight are they? I ordered special from the PTC you see and I'm sure they got the order wrong... um." He started wringing his hands as if he was a nervous, which was disturbing the fiendish scowl he was trying to direct at me.
I shrugged, or at least wiggled in the straps a little, "Nice and tight berk."
"Your sane right? I found you laying in a gutter in Curst which I'm sure makes you sane.... It's just I have to dilute your mind and terrorize your soul till you go mad, um."
Still a bit groggy I tried to roll my eyes with a bit of sarcasm, "Sane, yes. Certifiably In-Sane."
Still wringing his hands he started pacing the table, "I don't want to have to drive you barmy, but you see it's for this exam my father's making me take, for my evil license." he said, seeming to twist the words there at the end. "I don't even want to be evil! I told him I wanted to go to Sigil and be a Bleaknik, but he just stared with that ultraloth stony glare!"
"Er, Bleaknik yes, why all the Bleakniks I've gibbered madly at...".
He seemed to be ignoring me still though. "I can play the howler flute too," he added lifting a strange stick to his mouth and blowing on it. The squeaks and squawks emanating from it could have driven someone barmy. Luckily this was not the case for me.
I grinned, a bit of drool escaping my lips as I giggled, "Oh yes, you definitely need to visit Sigil, how they place is doing without you I don't know!"
This seemed to cheer him up a bit and he stopped pacing and came over to the table, his grin of delight much scarier then a flabby old evil grin, "Really? You think so?"
"Yes, quite. I'm well-lanned, could get you an interview with Morvin and Phineas... It would help if I wasn't strapped to the table though, not that I'm not enjoying laying here mind you."
This seemed to get the young 'loth excited, "What, the Morvin and Phineas? I have a poster of them when in my torture chamber!" He seemed to be shaking a bit with excitement, and started undoing the metal straps clasping me to the table.
Shaking a bit of dust from my official barmy rag clothing, I grinned as I straightened up, "Yes, Sigil definitely... always a bit of fun to be had there, visit the old Gatehouse and such. Hmm, not to be too fine a point on it but what burg are we in?
He seemed to be dragged a bit down by this question, "The Tower of Arcanaloths.. um on the Gray Waste? Bloody boring place really, um. It took me decades to convince my father to let me go to Curst to get someone to drive barmy, and even then I had to take the army as chaperone. He'll never let me go to Sigil!"
My grin started to slip it that one of utter madness so common on barmys, "The Tower eh? Never been here before, love the decor. Bound to be a portal to Sigil around here somewhere, we can just trip through accidentally..."
He giggled. Yes, definitely a little mad in the head these 'loths. "Trip... ahhs. I'll show the old stone fossil of a father who can go to the Cage!". Grinning madly some more he packed up his flute and some other various sharp pointed objects from the table, and stuffed them all in a large satchel.
Getting out of the tower wasn't to tricky, especially when your accompanied by someone who's very nature allows them to just about squash anyone in there path. Not that he did mind you, walking down the corridors and tunnels playing his howler flute seemed to achieve the same effect, cries of "Not that bloody racket again!" screeched from fiendish mouths as they tried to outrun it. Once outside on the nice pleasant roaring furnace of Gehenna, at least compared to the Tower, it was bound to be easier to find a portal to Sigil, always better to ask directions from someone who isn't a 'loth, you'll probably come out with your soul.
All content copyright 1999 Jeremiah Golden or credited authors.