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More excitement abound today in the BttS roleplaying logs. While our barmy heroes are off mucking with getting tortured, we turn to a scene also happening in Dis, where, buy quite a coincidence Phona, that dainty teifling, and Bl'arg, former guard and hummer of tunes, are about to meet at a party. Thus starts a tale of a punchbowl, a drunken blood war legion, a spiny spinagon, a dripping lemure, a host of other baatorian residents, and their quest to have a darn good time. Read and be amazed in the log, The 109th Dissian Legion's one 'ell of a Party.

Barmy Spotlight of the Week
Bois Verdurous

From: Factol's Manifesto, page 15
About: The Bois Verdurous, tree of the Athar. Growing in the center of the Shattered Temple, roots digging down into the rumble beneath it's roofless courtyard. Said to have come from the Great Unknown, maybe he has a green thumb, it grants powers to their Factol. The tree thrives by absorbing the magic of godly items that are destroyed in one of the Athar's rituals. It's has not been found if this is the only thing the tree requires, or if somewhere there's a little old wizened Athar who waters the tree every day, and mutters about how his rusting watering can. Also, no one has ever questioned to ask why, if something greater then the powers wanted to send magical abilities to the Athar, he decided to send it attached to shrubbery. The tree has one advantage though in that it's fruit or flower stores magical spells, allowing the Athar to draw on the trees powers even when not actually in it's presence. It's not actually the best method though, after wandering Set's realm for days to use a piece of fruit so that you can cast a spell to get up his knickers, you have to start getting a bit hungry, even if it's shriveled up pear by then. The flowers are worse, pinning them to your jacket or hair and pretending your in formal dress or from some heathen island never really impresses. 
Barminess: It's a tree that thrives in the smog of the lower ward, and it has barmy magical powers. 
Quote: Shake of a branch, drop of a leaf, "Schwooom ooom bang"
Likes: Being pruned to look like a prancing magical creature. When it's actually sunny in Sigil, and it can see the other side of the cage (Getting a great view of Di'blah's All Peak Takeaway). When Factol Terrance talks to it.
Dislikes: When the pamphlet scribes look at it and say "We seem to be running low on paper...". That uppity Razorvine stuff. When it's Mishakal's Holy Day, and no one wants to decorate it with garland and a pointy thing on top.

Barmy Bonus:
Factol Terrance's Power-Punch
Ingredients:
1 Bois Verdurous fruit
1/2 bottle razorvine wine
3 pears
1 pomegranate
1 pint brandy

A drink thought up by the Factol of the Athar, it's said to be able to get even a Power roaring drunk. Depending on the type of the spell stored within the Bois Verdurous, the drink can have any affect on the drinker from hallucinations, sleepiness, to exploding spontaneously. Needless to say, Power-Punch is not widely known, only being drunk occasionally by Terrance himself and a few of the higher-up Athar. In fact, it's rumored the test for becoming a Factor is simply sipping this drink and surviving. One time a group of scribes managed to get their hands on a glass of the drink, the pamphlets produced in their drunken party where a bit odd, though not to odd considering they'd all decided they where powers and where trying to zap lightning bolts at each other.

The drink is easily produced, simply mixing the wine and brandy, throwing in the pears and pomegranates (minced), stirring, and then finally dropping the tree's fruit and letting it dissolve. If it doesn't explode, stir again and serve chilled.

Zoyt Nostalgius
(Planar / Hydroloth Yugoloth / B7 / NE)

"Greetings friend, a beautiful gray day on the Styx is wonderful for a swim. Do you mind if I come aboard, I'm sure Maren (Pl / Marraenoloth Yugoloth / NE) won't mind. She always says the jinks more important to her, and I'm already fully paid for a trip. What you say, why do I, a hydroloth, want to come aboard? No, don't draw your weapons, I only ask to come aboard so I may remind you of a story and a to allow my old bones a rest from swimming. The millennia have had their way on this pour old frog I'll tell you! No, no, I'm afraid I don't ribbit, so undignified you know. Don't mind that Styx water, it's the perfect temperature! No, Maren, I said last time I was on this old rickety skiff of yours, I'm not going to tell you a story about bullfrogs and wine . Now, where was I?

Ah yes, my dear adventurers, you have the pleasure of once again addressing Zoyt Nostalgius, I'm sure you remember my name? Famed by all those who travel to the Styx as a multiverse renowned teller of story and lore... I'm sure someone has mentioned my name by now? No? How curious. Not even old Forgetful Fuits (Pl / Maelephant / F9 / LE)? He always comes by to hear my stories when he's not on duty as a mercenary on the lower planes, though he never likes the ones about the mice and cats for some reason. It's not the water, he's always careful to not get his trunk wet. Oh well, for some reason it's always so hard to make an impression on people, you know?

Please stop waving those weapons around! I don't know, some people... Ah, now that the skiff has stopped rocking, thank you Maren, let me remind you of a story. Once their was a party of adventures, yes, in the Outlands, a mysterious gloomy wood around them... What you say, this reminds you of something? How amusing, let me continue though... a wood, no, I tell a lie, a swamp yes, boggy around them at every step, trees leering, and lizard men skulking around the edges. Mud caked to their feet, little bits of wood stuck in, and ah, a innocent frog also, and their boots yes, are extremely cakey as I said, days of travel stuck to lizard skin boots, with a number of old bronze straps, and an old rusty nail from the third house on Black Boot Lane in Sigil. Not these boots are black mind, this was more a brownish splotched lizard that lent it's skin to the boots. What, yes I'm going to continue with the story, just reminiscing not he boots as it were. No reason to keep looking at your foot ware, your boots are much dirtier. I'm surprised Maren even let you on here skiff. Now... 

These adventurers come to a swampier part of the bog, strange things lurking in the waters. The water is dark and red, frogs, lives ones, at least, possibly alive, hop on fungused plants that float upon the water. Slowly a skiff floats up, a hooded figure plowing its bow, and quite against tradition, it resolves into a short and plump, oh dear, I mean stout and healthy, no offense Maren, and it says,  no reason to start waving your weapons around again. No, I said that, why do you keep doing that? You might fall in you know. Now, this hooded figure says, yes "Greeting my little deeries, care for a trip around the 'ol styx? Only a few jink, and I have brownies!". Speaking of which, thank you Maren, I do so love how you get the little worms to crawl in them. Now, isn't that better, you've stopped waving your swords around and had a brownie. The rest of the story slips my mind at the moment though, oh dear.

The boats rocking again, whys the boat rocking Maren? Your fine passengers seem to have put their pointy bits away, yet we still seem to be rocking. Oh, I see, is that you Nadada (Pl / Amnizu Baatezu / LE)? Come aboard, come aboard, plenty of room, move aside please. Oh? Yes of course, you can't come aboard or it cancel your goal to swim the length of the Styx. Yes, of course I remember, you in your little robe of a swimming suit, not having enough challenge in your life, decided to swim the infinite length of the river, even if it took you eternity. Ah, their you go, I'm sure one of Maren's brownies will quirk you right up. Ahs, are fellow passengers seem to be gaping, Nada, perhaps you could show them... Ah, hello ladies. I'm afraid we don't room for all of you. Wings not getting wet I hope? Yes Nada, I do love how you don't forget about your underlings... A synchronized swim team of a thousand erinyes, brilliant! Maybe you wouldn't mind putting on a show for us? I remember someone said the pyramid was quite a sight. 

Ok, now who's rocking the skiff? It seems everyone is forgetting their manners, I just don't know why. Ah, everyone's looking over my shoulder, how peculiar. Oh, it's that fiendish Styx dragon Ock (Pl / shadowdrake / T2 / NE), don't mind him, just throw him a stick or something and I'm sure he'll go away. He never wants to listen to my stories, I never know why. Probably all the same to him, nick, eat, nick, eat... same old same old you know. What? Oh I see, you've come to fight the dragon eh? Some town raided or some such I'm sure, valiant adventurers to the rescue. Oh dear, he seems to have nicked your spiky chainmail shorts. And he's still rocking the skiff. Oh well, at least it will be an interesting story, and what a lovely pyramid as a backdrop."

Last Week's Chant

All content copyright 1999 Jeremiah Golden or credited authors.