Thousand Dying Suns

The Vat of Zombies and the Curse of Unintended Consequences

objects not appearing whatsoever may eat your face

Short of the long, we found a secret door within the Canonesses’ chambers because of ‘Magic’. This is becoming a recurring theme; we cast about, looking for clues and then Thorn points and unobservable woojum frolicking in the woodwork that only he can see which “Unlocks The Answer”! I swear I am putting him in the portable fMRI unit in med bay when we get back to the ship with instructions to magic like a madman, until we can discern the fundamental underlying principles such that some of the rest of us will have a chance with all of this. The fact that only Thorne can see some of these things will bite us in the arse.

I’ll come back to that in a bit.

Back to the open door. We climbed up and about, into an attic studio apartment – bed, shower and knick-knacks included. Thorne apparently saved us from some sort of magical curse then the group started tossing the place for clues while I BLOODY WELL SHOWERED!

Ah brief bliss, free of grime and nits and gnats and everything else one would imagine from a planet of permanent medieval camping trips. Suffice it to say the others found the magic kindle of we can’t open, a collapsible camelback, a towel (probably not peril resistant), some reading spectacles, and a carving knife.

And buttons on the bed.

Which revealed another ladder leading down.

So down we went! Only to discover that zombies lived somewhere within the structure. Here begins a lovely slow motion chase scene involving us climbing for our lives away from the undead, punctuated but horrible noises and odors from below.

We made It to a hangar deck somewhere above Basicilla Hamlet which held a shuttlecraft, which proved workable – although it needed fuel and many good thoughts and wishes. Kiron and I went about putting the ship in order as the rest of the group engaged in climbing zombie murder Olympics. We added fuel, read through the pictures in what looked to be the ubiquitous flight manual written in hieroglyphics – the usual panicked procedure.

The flight went without a hitch once the Murder Olympics came to a lull. After a short debate we flew the craft down to the hamlet instead of the Venture (this turned out to be a wise decision, again revisiting Things Only Thorne Can See in the future) where the natives Oohed and Awwed over the holy chariot of St. Timmons. Whatever strikes their fancy.

From there we made short work of the rest of the zombies, sealed the entrance and rested. Causing nightmares because evidently there is some sort of summoning circle tied to the deck of the shuttle leading to a black hangry pit of unpleasantness (what lovely dreams THAT caused). This was only revealed because Thorne used is special vision on the ship. Which he neglected to do before we flew to the ground. It was also determined that had we taken the vessel out of atmo it would have triggered the circle to summon and unspeakable bloody tentacle thing to eat our (or in this case my) faces.

I am very grateful I didn’t give in to impulse to kip off to the Venture to pick up supplies. I imagine a scenario of leaping through the shuttles walls and hoping to land on the Venture while phased. Seems like a fun adventure to read about – not to experience. Which brings me back to the need to figure out HOW TO SEE AND MEASURE THIS MAGIC CRAP. I’m putting Thorne in the fMRI scanner on the ship once we get back for a month if I must! Because this ‘almost dying to things you know nothing about and have no way to observe’ is becoming… tiresome.

Enough kvetching. After a not so sound rest we explored the rest of the tunnel network where we found the one time zombie filled fuel tank designed to unleash death upon anyone who opened the studio.

To sum up; one upon a time an old gaffer who liked to carve in wood lived in a studio apartment behind a magic door in the middle of Medieval Theme Park Land. He had some magical widgets and he may have been responsible for carving the Woodcuts which would excite some future travelers from Aldemere. Someone else, who may have killed said gaffer, decided to booby-trap the shuttle and the rest of the hidden bits with zombie traps and curses. And there is an actual dwarf in what appears to be a cyrostasis pod in the vestibule of the church below all of this.

I am forced to conclude that someone REALLY doesn’t want travelers to crucifix station and was willing to go to excessive lengths to prevent said visits.

Let’s go there. It’ll be a holiday complete with amusement rides and carnies! I love this plan!



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