YOU'RE NOT SURE IF YOU'RE NOT ALREADY HAUNTED YOURSELF, BUT THE VOICES SEEM TO WANT TO GO ON THE GHOST TOUR. YOU JOIN THE "HAUNTED" TOUR OF CASTLE SHAYBURY. YOUR TOUR GUIDE, A VERY TALKATIVE GOAT OF A DUCK NAMED DOUG, DOESN'T TAKE TOO LONG TO GATHER A DECENT CROWD LARGELY MADE UP OF FELLOW TOURNAMENT HOPEFULS AND RAVING FANS. YOU ASK AROUND ABOUT WHETHER ANY OF THE FANS ARE YOUR FANS AND ARE DISAPPOINTED TO FIND OUT THAT THERE ARE NOT IN FACT ANY B-KAWK FANS IN ATTENDANCE. YOU CLUCK RESOLUTELY AND SWEAR TO CHANGE THAT TOMORROW AND GET A FEW WEIRD LOOKS. ANYWAY, IT SOUNDS LIKE DOUG HAS SOMETHING TO SAY.
"WOOOOOooooo! Welcome, mortals, to the haunted bowels of Castle Shaybury. Built on an ancient Cyanite gravesite hundreds of years ago, Castle Shaybury looms ominously over the Saven Hills as a monument to the martial prowess of its proud owners and the countless warriors felled by their merciless swords. From the bloodthirsty Bryk of the Lakes of ancient times to your host, the fearsome Duke Cyne IX of Shaybury, the lords of this castle have always been skilled at turning their foes into ghosts. Let those of you who are easily frightened turn back now ere you gaze into the very eyes of DEATH!"
"Also, as this is not an officially sanctioned tour, let those among you who would call down the Duke or his associates come forward that you may accept a peace offering from the spirits!"
A GIANT SNAIL WEARING AN AWFUL MASK THAT LOOKS A BIT LIKE A HAIRLESS APE'S FACE SLIDES UP AND ACCEPTS THE "PEACE OFFERING FROM THE SPIRITS," A SMALL BRIBE. WITH THEIR LITTLE ACT OF PETTY CORRUPTION DONE, THE SNAIL SLIDES OFF TO FIND ANOTHER TOUR GUIDE TO EXTORT.
"Let the tour begin! Behold the Portal of En-trance-ment, said to have been built from the wood of a tree planted over a magician's corpse. Some say that if you listen closely, you can still hear faint screams whenever the Portal is opened or closed, but right now, all you'll hear is people setting up the Chamber of Gluttony for the feasts. Now we'll take this side passage, mind your step. The suits of armor along this hallway are still haunted by their former wearers."
NONE OF THIS SEEMS HAUNTED TO YOU, BUT IT'S NOT LIKE YOU'RE PAYING FOR THE TOUR OR ANYTHING. THE NEXT AREA IS A SMALL AND RATHER DARK CORRIDOR.
"These are the old servants' quarters. You may be wondering why they aren't in use any more. Well, wonder no more, foolish mortals. Cyne III was possessed by evil spirits. He wasn't a particularly stable Duke of Shaybury. Whenever peace broke out, he'd be miserable, bored, and here at home with nothing to do. One day, he fell ill and blamed the servants' cooking. Armed with mole-forged weapons and leading a squad of his most loyal knights, he ran through the halls slaughtering all the servants. Even today, more than a hundred years later, people in town say they can still see blood seeping from the stones of the castle and hear the anguished screams of the servants. Now if you'll keep going, whoa, watch your step, we'll be going downstairs for a peek at the catacombs."
THE GROUP SHUFFLES ALONG INTO AN EVEN DARKER ROOM. THIS IS EVEN LESS EXCITING THAN A NON-HAUNTED TOUR OF THE CASTLE.
"Behold the chamber of wine! And come to think of it, is it not so that wine is a kind of undead fruit juice? But what we're after tonight is a view of the catacombs. Gaze upon this hole in the floor, and behold the very ash of mortality! It goes without saying that catacombs are highly haunted places, and *ahem*, perhaps the spirits will humor us today."
YOU LOOK THROUGH THE HOLE IN THE FLOOR AND CAN MAKE OUT RECESSES IN THE WALLS OF VARIOUS SIZES AND SHAPES. YOUR APPRECIATION OF THE SCARCELY VISIBLE MARVELS IS SUDDENLY INTERRUPTED BY A BLOODCURDLING SCREAM AND ECTOPLASMIC RUSTLING! THE DOOR LEADING TO THE STAIRCASE OUT SLAMS SHUT, AND EVERYTHING IS DARK. YOU HEAR SCUFFLING, RUSTLING, AND A FEW LOUD THUMPS. YOU DRAW YOUR CROSSBOW AND PREPARE FOR BATTLE, BUT SOON, THE FLAPPING STOPS AND THE DOOR TO THE STAIRCASE SLAMS BACK OPEN. YOU SEE SEVERAL FELLOW TOURISTS ON THE GROUND. YOU LOOK TO WHERE DOUG WAS AND SEE HIS CLOTHES ON THE GROUND AND A DISTINCT LACK OF DOUG. COULD IT BE THAT YOUR HAMMY AND INCREDIBLY FAKE HAUNTED TOUR GUIDE WAS A HAUNTING GHOST AFTER ALL? THOSE STILL STANDING (WHICH THANKFULLY INCLUDES MOST OF THE ARMED TOURISTS, HOLY ORDER FOOTCHICKENS INCLUDED) HUDDLE AND LOOK AROUND NERVOUSLY.
"What happened? My bag's missing!"
"Let's...let's get out of here. I don't like this tour any more."
"My bag's missing too, and I can't see well enough to find it! Anyone got any light?"
"We should make sure the unconscious people are safe and not possessed first."
"CLUCK CLUCK BAWK CLUCK SQUAWK BAWK?"
"OK, I'll carry the arms, and you can carry the legs. The stairs might be tricky, though."
"What about Doug's clothes? We need to bury them or he'll haunt us forever."
"BAWK BAWK BAWK BAWK BAWK SQUAWK BAWK!"
"I don't think that's how ghosts work either, but what can it hurt?""
"SQUAWK CLUCK CLUCK BAWK SQUAWK."
"Ghosts are not hissier goats, don't be silly!"
YOU HELP CARRY AN UNCONSCIOUS VICTIM OF THE FURIOUS SPIRITS' ATTACK OUT OF THE CASTLE. ONE OF THE CONTESTANT-LOOKING PIGEONS APPEARS TO HAVE CARRIED DOUG'S CLOTHES OUTSIDE. YOU MENTALLY PERFORM THE CYANITE SALUTE AT THIS NONSENSE. YOUR COMRADES ARE RELIEVED TO FIND THAT THEY HAVEN'T LOST ANYTHING. YOU CHECK, AND YOU, TOO HAVEN'T LOST ANY OF YOUR BELONGINGS. SOME OF YOUR FELLOW TOURISTS HAVE, HOWEVER, LOST THEIR MONEY AND/OR THEIR CONSCIOUSNESS. IN A RARE MOMENT OF NON-JINGOISTIC FANATICISM, YOUR RIGHTEOUS FURY HUMS WITH CONVICTION. "WE MUST PUNISH THOSE GHOSTLY RAPSCALLIONS," IT SEEMS TO SAY. HOWEVER, IT WOULD BE NICE TO GET ENOUGH FOOD AND REST ON THE EVE OF THE TOURNAMENT. WHAT'LL IT BE?
(A) AVENGE THE VICTIMS OF THE HAUNTED CASTLE. (BUT HOW?)
(B) GO BACK AND REST UP. (SKIPS TO TOURNAMENT)
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Topic: CHICKEN KNIGHT [SG] (Read 26298 times)