Immersive Ink

waysoftheearth wrote:
Ulric has Wibert's final torch alight just as the last of Gustave's lantern oil sizzles down to a steaming smear upon the ground.

There is now an unpleasant air or burnt oil and singed vegetation in the air. By the dancing torch and candle light it is clear that about one third of the upside down tree has been quite scorched and withered by the oil fire that burned briefly below it.

waysoftheearth wrote:
Dieter finishes dragging the rest of the company back to the perimeter of the room, as Highbough examines the Desmond and wonders what to do about the Halfling's condition.

In fact as he does so he notes now that something seems amiss with Desmond's shoulder... what is this... swelling here? There seems to be something of a lump under the fellow's armour. Highbough works at loosening the buckles and straps of the protective garb to get a look at the injury... and is then shocked to see an angry red swelling almost the size of a fist right on top of Desmond's shoulder.

The poor fellow continues to sweat and shake, and giggle madly all the while.

waysoftheearth wrote:
The others who slept a while now slowly open a bleary eye or two, and scarcely recognise where they are.

What they do note is that they are parched by a most dire thirst.

And almost immediately after they feel incredible pangs of hunger. But alas they are so greatly fatigued, that they can scarcely be bothered to do anything about it.

Realisation that they are lying on a grim dungeon floor and far, far from any true respite dawns...

mushgnome wrote:
Highbough is briefly reminded of the sting of a certain jellyfish, whose venom is neutralized by urine... however, this idea seems far-fetched, and so he pursues the more practical course of action, jamming his slender fingers down the halfling's throat in an attempt to induce vomiting.

ehiker133 wrote:

mushgnome wrote:Highbough is briefly reminded of the sting of a certain jellyfish, whose venom is neutralized by urine... however, this idea seems far-fetched, and so he pursues the more practical course of action, jamming his slender fingers down the halfling's throat in an attempt to induce vomiting.

OOC: Errr.... I'm not soo... sure about...

danhem wrote:
Ulric makes sure to secure the lantern and last flask of oil. If need be, he'll rip off some of Gustave's shirt to wrap the hot lantern in so that he can handle it until it cools.

Ulric then administers a mouthful of water and a small portion of food to each of his stricken comrades.

"Come on," he says boldly trying to raise their spirits, "on your feet. You're not injured. Let's make our way back down the clean corridor. There was a draft coming from that way. That's sure to be the way out. I can feel it."

tonneau wrote:
"Wow...", mumbles Gustave, "who was she?"

waysoftheearth wrote:

danhem wrote:Ulric then administers a mouthful of water and a small portion of food to each of his stricken comrades.

As they unenthusiastically receive these alms the company members are struck by the fantastic lack of taste. The water is merely wet and scarcely abates the burning thirst in their throats. The food is tough, dry, and tastes like soil.

They grudgingly take water and a tiny morsel due only to their fierce need...

waysoftheearth wrote:
Meanwhile Highbough is inspired to make Desmond vomit. He steels himself, and grabs the feverish Halfling's head firmly and tries to prize open his chattering teeth -- which in practice is no simple thing. Not made any easier by the worrying red swelling on his shoulder, which seems so large it must be growing before Highbough's very eyes. Sweet Heavens! it IS growing! And violently -- as though some fist-sized Imp is trying to push its way out of Desmond's skin!

(Think of Aliens)

Highbough backs off with a scarcely concealed shriek, and Desmond's eyes now pop open and he screams and roars, scratching and grasping and the hideous, melon sized bulge is now blown out almost to his ears, and is sprouting a coarse ruff of bristles.

(1d6, to see if wandering monsters are attracted...)

Everyone else is looking on in utter horror as the poor Halfling writhes helplessly screeching on the ground in unknown agony. And all the while the angry protrusion just keeps on growing and growing, until it truly does rival Desmond's head in size, and the bristles are grown out into a thatch of curly black hair. And within moment of attains fully the size of Desmond's noggin, a new set of facial features expand across what is now quite clearly a second head!

Then it all stops. As does Desmond's wailing. And a pin-drop silence holds for a long, long moment.

Desmond sits up, and both his and The Head's eyes flick open. The head shakes itself a moment, and reaches up with Desmond's arm to ruffle its hair a moment as it surveys the room of faces gawking at it.

"Whad're you lot lookin' at?" it asks in a tone most surly.

ehiker133 wrote:
Desmond... ummm... he...

OOC: eh? This is a bit of a new one for me...

Desmond cautiously turns his head to the left a little, to make sure he's still able to do so, then straightens it back to center. Then, without turning his head, he looks to the right with his eyes to try and confirm there is indeed another head on his shoulder.

His eyes dart to everyone else in the room...

He manages to squeak out, "... don't eat the fruit."

Then Desmond faints.