Part 24: It's hardly Genocide if NO ONE likes them

Update #23: It's hardly Genocide if NO ONE likes them

We were last standing about inside the Duergar stronghold.


Kruskrak, my fair apprentice. Answer me a question.
I'm not your apprentice.
Why is it that we've been running amok doing odd jobs for midgets?
I think they don't like being called that, man.
Bollocks! Short people don't have the mental capacity to be angry at Heronius Napalm V, esq.
Bold new frontiers of bigotry, ahoy.
I don't think you should be saying that when there's dozens of them all around us, 'Ronius.
Can I leave? Before something terrible happens?
No, you can't. Anyway, I'm off to prove all you silly sausages wrong. One moment.
Urggzob thinks sausages are overrated foodstuffs.
Ahem. Attention midgets! You're all reprehensible burdens on an otherwise productive and well-organized society of persons of normal height!



I think that went well.

Thus begins the epic battle of random cave 48A!

...after Napalm makes a hasty retreat to a safe zone, at least.

It is Urggzob o'clock! Come on, small foes! Urggzob will crouch if he needs to!
Ooh, ooh! What if they stood on each other's shoulders? That way you could keep standing!
Is a good idea! Urggzob is concerned about proper posture during CRUSHING excercises.


The natural bottleneck of the storeroom prevents the half-sized hordes from sweeping over us and mauling our squishy casters.

I firmly maintain that I'm not your assistant, because I had nothing to do with this.
I dunno. You quiet types are ALWAYS planning to do violent things to broad groups of people.
...no comment.


Urggzob, however, insists on breaking tactically sound formation so he can charge into the hallway and inflict massive casualties. Even so, we can't stay mad at the loveable scamp.

Careful out there, man! There's lots of them...and slaves! Orc slaves! And a blimp!
What the everloving hell are you rambling about now, man?
They're flying! Horrid death machines, engineering our beautifully tragic downfall! A bed of roses, my god!
Urggzob does not know what is going on, but it is fine background music to his ears while he crushes.
Ooh, I bet I know. He may be having flashbacks of that divine transferrence potion he drank a while back.
I still wonder how that felt.
Soul-crushing, if what I've read is true.


The orc slaves, low on hit dice, die instantly upon wandering into Kruskrak's cloudkill. Everyone else is mildly annoyed.

It's in my lungs! And it buuuuuurns!
Funny! Feels like spring shower to Urggzob!
Maybe the acid will do something about the smell. At least he's enjoying it.
We can only hope, hon.
OH NO! Urggzob is all out of shorties!
Wait just a moment, I think there's a few more. Allow me to thrash them myself for their impudence. And their shortness.

So, Napalm does just that.



A dozen enemies, and he dispatches them single-handedly.

As expected.
That was surprisingly well-executed. Usually you just run around trying to protect your pretty face and whining.
I shall take the compliment to my facial composition and conveniently overlook the rest of what you just said.



That...that is a LOT of loot.
Feeling better, Marty?
Remarkably exfoliated, but yeah. Better, man.
Good, just in time to help us pick up all of the crap we can sell to the next merchant we run across.



Look Nancy, it's your pet invention of horrible doom-death.
I swear I was just professionally curious.
Well, now you can professionally carry it. Have fun.

Having now destroyed ALL life in that particular segment of the caves, our noble and well-meaning party treks on.

...right into another cave.

If I never see a cave or a snowbank packed to bursting with barbarian scum again, I'll die happy.
We all know that's a lie. You're never happy.
On the contrary! I was fine and dandy before I came on this madcap failure of an adventure!
Urggzob sees a band of adventurers.
...that's us, Urggzob.
Oh. Oops.
I for some reason get the impression you'll get home and tell rousing stories of our exploits with yourself as the overwrought hero in every situation.
Urggzob sees a band of adventurers.
That's...oh wait, he's right this time.



It's always refreshing to see that your sarcastic assholery isn't limited to us and helpless shopkeeps.
Everybody needs a little Napalm now and again.

Now, this fight is supposed to be HARD. The three mages are all solidly competent, and all six archers have enchanted arrows which hurt quite a bit. Add to that the danger of the WAR-BEARS, and a well-made party can get mauled in no time.

Our party isn't well-made, though.

It's completely fucking insane. Kruskrack kills all the mages and all but one of the archers with a well-placed horrid wilting, and Urggzob manages to distract all the bears.

Urggzob does not mind if bears are for war or tea time! He will lay them out!
Tea bears? You may be onto something there...

Needless to say, we mop up quick.


_{WHY IS URGGZOB IN THE BUBBLE? LET URGGZOB OUT!}
One of them was about to have your leg off, Urggzob.
_{That's what it is FOR! It detatches for extra crushing antics!}
As terrifyingly improbable as that sounds, I won't even think of doubting it.


"Threat" dealt with (on the first try, no less), we proceed.


...that's right, Chapter four. Those guys were the Chapter three boss fight. Anyway, we're swept into cutscene-vision immediately upon entry.





Pretty house!
That's a monastary, Pip.
Ooh ooh, I know what those are! That's the building where Clobberella kicked her way out of her mother's womb, right?
That's exactly how it went.
It's cold out here. Let's get over that bridge and get inside.
Mind the gap!



Marty -- is he dead?
Who knows? Who cares, moreover? Where he lies; there shall he be buried.
Devilish pain, this. Someone, fix my bones!
I'm on the case, dude!



See, little men? This is the one thing Urggzob does NOT crush!

Unfortunately, once we're across...

...we're mobbed by yetis.

Good gods! Dead yeti fiesta!
Aha ha ha! Urggzob is like a party planner, but instead of boxes full of presents, he gives bodies full of mangled organs!
That's an awful analogy.
I thought that was a simile...
Well--
Aieeee, more yetis!



Urggzob, is that your mother in there?
That's uncalled for. I'd say more a cousin.
Laugh while you can.


It's worth noting that these yetis are so weak we get no experience from 'em.

Anyway, we enter the Monastary.

Talking happens.

One monk...one monk sells us THIS:


Well, since books are really my thing, I guess I'll be taking this one too...
Not so fast, Ethyl!
She's right. My party, my book.
YOUR party? Man...can't we all try reading it at once?
Does it have pictures?
Why Ethyl of all names?
It was the first thing that came to mind.
Urggzob likes pictures.
What are we arguing over, now?
NOTHING!
Righto!

Issue undecided, we continue to explore.


Wow. Someone ALMOST as sarcastic as you, Napalm.
He can try.



It will be a cold day in every hell you do or don't believe in before I let you be a monk. Just saying.
I bet he'd be sexy if he had rippling punching muscles!
Thank you, Pip. What now, Clobby?
My threat stands.



Our mission is clear.
Crush everything?
...I hope not.

And now...skill/feat updates! I'll do spells next update.


As you can see, priority one is killing things with my spells. Fire spells. Fire fixes everything, I swear.



Urggzob is crushy. And intimidating. Little girls all already knew that, though.



I'm well-rounded and absurdly hard to hit. I'll only get better, too.



Man...I'm way more of both a fighter and a combat mage than I thought I would be. It feels funky.



Not too awful much to say. I'm focused on getting spells where they need to be, and in time.



I like bows! And songs! And spells! And butterflies! And apples! And rainbows!

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Update question of the day: WHO GETS THE BOOK OF EXPERIENCE?