What's all this barmy stuff?
Want to find out what has been forgotten in the Styx?
Not enough barminess for you?
I walked down the streets of Curst, heading straight for the center of the the festering berg, razorvined walls looming over me. I had left the anarchist gibbering in the common room of the Quartered Man, the common room of rulers-in-exile enthralled by his barmy tales. I had also left him to watch the lizards, just having got them all smuggled past the gate guards and into are room. My plan so far had gone exceedingly well, truly the most fun I'd had in months, and it was just about to get so much better. I grinned, I'd get to act.
A fly swarmed around my face, bringing me out of my thoughts. Though I was now in towards the second ring of Curst, the trash still piled a large portion of the streets. The fly continued buzzing, then with a flick in the air and flash above my head, it was gone. I scratched the chin of my hat, finding my disguise useful already.
Checking my disguise one more time in a broken window pane, I presented myself at the Burgher's house, the high-up in the town, and hopefully in need of a little barmyness to brighten his day. It was almost as black as the city walls, though not as much razorvine climbed its walls. I walked up to the pointy thing guarding the door, and I'm sure thats what you'd call it, any person covering themselves in that amount of sharp bladed armor only deserves to be called a thing, and bowed, "I, His lordship the Lizard Lord, request an audience with his graceness the Burgher." Then, pulling back up the lizard on my head that had clawed its way down during my bow, I presented the pointy thing with my best grin.
The pointy thing rattled a bit, I guess he wasn't expecting to meat a Animal lord in the middle of Curst, and clunked his way into the door. A short time later, he returned, and gravely voice escaped between the layers of metal. "The Burgher... wishes to meet you." He turned, and opened the door for me.
The inside of the house wasn't much better then the outside, except the flies here didn't have any garbage to rest on. The pointy thing clanked in front of me, escorting me to a door in the far part of the house. He let me in, and jiggled back out, supposedly to go back to guarding the front door, or maybe getting an oil change.
"Please have a seat... Lizard." the Burgher, a githzerai with a jagged nose and dressed in robes to shame then even the most extreme Sensate, gestured for me to sit down.
I sat, trying to balance as to not upset my hat, who had fallen asleep and slumped a bit to the side of my head, one foot wresting on my ear. "Tovus, may I call you Tovus? I have heard darks saying you are trying to get back at the Athar in Sigil. Something I also wish to accomplish, ever since the Athar upset a friend of mine, the Power of Geckos."
Tovus, still standing, seemed to consider this, "Quite. Though I have my own plan of operation unfolding in Sigil, what help could you, who I know for a fact isn't the current Lizard Lord, do to help me?"
I scratched my hat, "What gave me away?"
"Your anarchist friend turned stag on you, seems he got tired of lizards and is now raising a large army of doorknobs. Luckily, he didn't get far. As for the rest of your army, I've made a tidy profit selling them to those annoyed with are local fly problem. In fact, I estimate you owe me 98 jinx for that hat on your head."
Now, what barmy thought had come into my head that I wanted to meet this man? Oh well, I think I probably did it for the hat. Pulling the lizard off my head and curling it in my arms, I jumped out the window. Luckily, I didn't wake up in Curst.
According to this site, in Frisian, Salad really does translate to Slaad! Possible proof of the elusive Fruit Slaad?
Todays BttS update is brought to you by the letter P. Please take a second and honor all those Planescape words begining with P.
Planescape, Planes, Portal, Planewalker, Planar, Prime, Power, Pain, Plague-mort, Pelion, Pandemonium, Pandesmos, Porphatys, Phlegethon, Pluton, Phlegethos, Primus, Pentadrone, Paths, Pools, Pointy things, Proxies, Petitioners, Pentar, The Prison, Post, Peel, Pike it, Peery, Plane-touched, Paraelemental, Postive Energy, Parai, Per, Piscoloth, Pit Fiend, Planetar Assimon, Plumach, Prolonger, Primal, Pazrael, Pech, Phirblas, Phisarazu, Phiuhl, Psurlon, Phyropher, Philosophers with Clubs, Parted Veil, Parts and Pieces, Parakk, Patch, Phineas, Prisine, Phase spider, Protmatter, and Pox.
I stepped in something, though the town of Curst wasn't very clean I wasn't expecting to glance down and find a pink sticky mass stuck to my boot. Cursters weren't known for there colored garbage like Xaos. Then I remembered something a fellow in the asylum used to mutter in the next cell, "The Pink Apomp's Puddings inside the spheres, stuck to my mind they do...."
Pudding, Pink Apomp's
"I stepped out of the portal, the landscape of Carceria surrounding me, when
my comrades began to laugh hysterically. They said I looked as though I were chewing some
of that Bytopian Bubblegum they give to kids at Tradegate, made a large bubble, and had it
explode on me."
"I think allot of things about Carceria, but never thought I'd imagine its
encompassing spheres as giant gumballs."
The Pink Apomp's Pudding was originally created by the Gehreleths, there urge to create something as they were created by Apomps. There experiments lasted centuries, but never got farther then there first creation, the pudding. Created with the pinkish tone of a Faratsu, and the Faratsu's same sticky nature, the pudding was designed to stop anything threatening its owner, and cover it in a wet sticky bubble. The pudding started out so well, trained to rise up and encompass a spell crystal if heading for its Gehreleth owner, and being a convenient way to stick ones triangle to ones belly. The experiment ended one day however, when a young Gehreleth decided what would happen if he ate it. The impending explosion blew up most of the lab, and flung the Pink Apomp's Pudding to almost all of Carceria.
Though not deadly itself, the Pink Apomp's Pudding can convey a serious threat, mostly from all the things that can happen to you in Carceria when your stuck in one place looking really silly. The puddings tend to collect around places were they can easily shuffle under a persons feet or drop from above, often catching in a Planewalkers hair or fur. Night Hags are said to sell strange potions of 'May-on-eggs', to rid someone of the pudding, but reports are unconfirmed.
Another spell dug up for all you barmy fans out there, though it being Tithing, we'll have to charge you an arm and a leg for it, at least, for those Dustmen of you out there who can afford it.
Breathe Jink, Gems, or Jewels
This spell allows a character to breath easily while on the Plane of Minerals, but also allows quick maneuvering through such things as a dragon's horde, Fated tax collection chamber, or any room filled with a large amount of obtrusive valuable metals and gems. This spell is quite common among the Indeps and Anarchist wizards, who like to sneak up on unsuspecting Fated tax collectors or rich high-up and breath deeply. The subject of the spell is still vulnerable to such metals as silver if its a lycanthrope, and glitter dust has caused many of this spells subject to go into coughing fits worse then even a dust mephit can give.
The caster can touch as many subjects for the spell as he desires, but the duration of the spell depends on the subjects ability to flip a coin in the air every hour, and catch it neatly in there mouths. The material component of this spell is a bag full of Xorn teeth.
All content copyright 1999 Jeremiah Golden or credited authors.