Hector’s Heckler, Duolus 24
Did you miss me you beautiful beaming belligerent bubbly Brits?! I know, I know, I’m late this month but wait until you hear what I have in store for you! The truth! The lies! The danger! The scandal! This month I got down and dirty in the milky moist machiavellian trenches of marry meritorious mystery! I interviewed with the pleasant poor peasantry and the proper people of plenty!
Following the popularity of Drax’s wise words in our first issue, the Heckler was deluged with readers asking for the sage tortle’s advice. Without further adieu, here are:
Drax’s Words of Wisdom
Q: Dear Drax, oozes and slimes keep eating my armor! I’m spending more money fixing it after each dungeon dive than I make. What should I do?
A: Quit your bellyaching you soft-skinned snowflake! Armor is for insecure weaklings who are too afraid to take on the perils of the world just wearing what they cracked out of their shell in. You don’t see old Drax crying for a metal momma before he goes and cracks some skulls, do you?
Q: My adventuring companions and I found a dead end in a dungeon that has a scary green face statue on it. There’s a pit of utter blackness in the statue’s mouth. What should we do?
A: Do I look like your momma, you little whippersnappers? Buck up and dive head-first into the darkness like a real adventurer! There’s no gold and glory to be had standing around whining about how “it might be a trap” or “darkness is scary!”. By the gods do I have to do everything around here?
Haha! Another titillating, tantalizing, and trendy talk with our most tenacious and tolerant tortle trailblazer. We thank you our distinguished dino daddy! Next up, an icy irreconcilable ironic interview with an idealist former member of the our illustrious city’s guard. For the purposes of this interview we’ll call her G and I’ll go by my casual collegiate codename, Preparation H. G and I met one evening at a romantic venue.
G: “Hector, right? You do reports on happenings, I hear.”
H: “Ah, that I do my scaly compadre, that I do! Have anything juicy? A tale of heroes and adventure? Dastardly villains? Helpless maidens? Forbidden romance? The end or beginning of an Era? Sorry, why do you ask?”
G: “You of course know of the Hall of Hunters as it is controlled in somewhat by your patron, Lord Gost. But, do you know of the things that its members have witnessed? The things that they have fought and killed?”
H: “I think my lord asked them to find some adorable little teddy bears from his oversized scribbly picture book. Is that what you mean?”
G: “Not exactly. Both their wood elf captain Glanodel and myself were the ones who chased the escaped prisoner in the clutch of the demon to his lair. Care to hear more? Enailis and I, currently members of the Hall of Hunters, tracked said person when a devil helped him escape the Graystone.”
H: “Oooooooooh I seeeeeeeee. And then what happened?”
G: “The devil flew out across the river Olteus, but Enailis and I confidently lead the small party we recruited after them, throwing open the gate to get past the Guard there. We had to rescue – or recapture – such a prominent member of Brightshore society. Once across the river, we were faced with the ruins of ancient Cathorn, full of dangers and mysteries, but on we tracked them with Enailis unerring sense of direction. In time, we came across a wall full curious. Around it, the ground was clear and not a speck of snow could stay, even though it was winter. Enailis scented brimstone, but we found on it a door that lead down, down, deep under the ground. Is this the kind of story you like to heckle? Shall I continue or are you bored?”
H: “Continue madame, continue!”
G: “Enailis lead us more than a hundred yards into the depths of the earth, the stench of demonic forces growing stronger in our noses with every step. Then we came to a chamber, like unto the size of the mess-hall in Veil’s Mur. In it was a strange stone altar, covered in the blood of innocent sacrifices. In the chamber was a hidden door that we wrenched open, finding a passageway beyond. Not much further, our brave wood elf leader found a trap and guided us through it. This lead to a strange, wide, spiral staircase where we descended even further into the earth, ever closer to the opening to Hell. Now there lay before us a strange stone door with two large pillars beside it. We pushed through and found ourselves surrounded by a mob of formless, strange creatures. They were roughly human sized, but made of flesh that was only half-baked, as if Unre had brought them out of her oven a few years early. We fought our way past them and that is when I opened up my divine sight, granted to me by my Oath as a paladin, letting me see fiends, celestials, undead and their influence. The evil in that place was so strong that I was knocked unconscious for several minutes, while Enailis and the rest bravely protected me. We pushed ever further into the dark chambers, finding old prisons, old barracks, a strange spring lit by magical stones, more stone doors. We fought impish devils that caused the very armor we wore to burn our flesh, although the powers granted to my forebears by Menran protected me. We found a door written in all languages we knew but the Common speech of Brightshore warning of a great evil if it was to be unsealed. We found a ritual chamber where a dozen cultists had murdered themselves for some foul ritual. And, then … we found him – the man we had been chasing all this time…”
That’s the terrible tale that the tattling turncoat templar told. She wouldn’t say the nebulous noteworthy name aloud, but I have my strong scathing suspicions as to the suspect. What do the poignant people think? What is the scandalous secret? Who could it possibly be? What name is too terrible to utter for fear of ruthless recalcitrant retribution? What would make this guard resign? Perhaps, we’ll know next month in Hector’s Heckler!
In the meantime, a novel and new efficacious establishment has opened in the Tower District! Stop by the Citadel Lounge and meet the Knights of the Black Veil! Listen to yours truly on the piano and enjoy the elegant exotic dancing of the attractive Miss Maevis Alanyr! If you play your cards right you may even get a meet and greet with the gallant Galvan Gost or laudable laureled Lancelot! Bring your most extravagant evening attire, enjoy a generous glass of wine, and gossip with our gorgeous gregarious guests! Treat yourself, you deserve a night on the town!
Know that when you dine and delight at the Gost Citadel, you are supporting people of the people! Just listen to the these tender testimonies:
“I can’t tell you how grateful I am to the men of the citadel. I will never forget their names; Sir Lancelot the Brave, Zren the Zealous and Wise, Revan the Revered, Flint the Fearless, and Stopp the Unstoppable. They traveled a week and fought to save my husband when no one else would. What’s more, they did it for free out of the kindness of their hearts. We offered to pay them, but they refused to touch a coin!” – Vanessa Stormsleet
“Aye, these men fought back nightmares on my behalf. I’ll never be able to repay the lifes debt that I owe them. I tell you this though, there are no nobler men in Brightshore” – Arman Stormsleet
“The Pulio family will live on. My name shall not be lost to history, and I have these adventurers to thank for it. I… I offered everything I had, my life’s savings, my years’ harvest. They needed only my thanks. These are good men I tell ye! They don’t make them like this anymore!” – Greg Pulio Senior Senior
“Stopp could stop my heart if I were not a married woman.” – Sarah Jameson
Oh my! Careful now Stopp, I hear Card Jameson is no push over! Well that’s it folks, I’ll see you next month. Be sure to stop on by the citadel to see my fancy new feathered hats. I received more than I knew what to do with after last months’ paper. Some of you nefarious nobles out there have clearly been naughty! Tune in next time to hear the gauche gossip of my Lord Gost’s gratuitous gamble with a real ghost of a girl. Tata for now. Pray I live to tell the tale!