Alchemy with Trolls (27 Feb 2002) Hannah and Agatha deal with trolls in strange ways.

Lone Horn of Caer Bannuac
The tower of Caer Bannuac splits into two smaller towers that extend from the central trunk much like horns, though now one of those horns has collapsed and fallen to the ground as rubble. The remaining horn tower looks doomed to do much the same eventually, and the peculiar construction of its interior -- the irregularly angled and sometimes veering steps, the not-quite perfectly straight walls -- does little to build confidence in its structural integrity. Moldered tapestries are pasted to the walls, and despite the obvious neglect, wall-mounted torch sconces still flicker and burn, casting long and twitching shadows. In the round chamber atop the stairs is a cobweb-filled study, boxes of peculiar treasures, an aged desk, and a large gilt-framed mirror that alone seems to have survived the ravages of time unscathed.

The trolls show no sign of relenting in their assault upon the tower, and dawn is a long time yet to come. It is doubtful that the battered old door can hold them off until morning. So far, the only alternate exits from the tower to present themselves have been unsuitable for horses: windows and holes that promise a long and treacherous climb down to the ground by grasping vines -- or, quite likely, a long and treacherous fall.

The only recourse at the moment, aside from merely hunkering down and preparing for the inevitable, has been for Agatha to explore the tower to see if there might be anything of use while Hannah checks on the horses downstairs. Toward that end, Agatha was able to accomplish what Bragwaine could not -- that is, to turn a knob on a door leading on up the stairs to the top of the remaining "horn." This, aside from being (in Bragwaine's opinion) a much better hiding place than underneath the Grail Shrine, happens to be one of Sorcerer Pelles's studies -- and, incidentally, the only one still intact.

From the tall and narrow windows, one can look down upon the trolls, and drop chutes are ideally suited for dropping projectiles upon big fat troll heads. Cobwebs tangle most everything, and everything shows an incredible amount of neglect. Wood has rotted, papers have been stained by the elements, and even here snow has blown in and long icicles hang from the window frames. Bottles once holding potions of perhaps some potency have shattered from the water in their contents freezing and expanding, and now partially contain chunks of many-colored ice and slush. A shelf sports many books, their spines covered in arcane scrawls, no doubt of interest to a wizard, but indecipherable to much anyone else.

In the corner is a tall self-standing mirror, with a gilt frame ornately sculpted to suggest a lion's head and paws crowning it, and a stylized "tail" at the bottom. Despite all the signs of neglect, the mirror has suffered no more indignity than some clinging cobwebs and some dust darkening its surface. "This is Sorcerer Pelles's magic mirror," Bragwaine narrates as she scampers about the room, vainly searching for a fat mouse that might be hiding amidst the debris.

"It allows you to see things other than just your reflection," the cat meows. "I'm not quite sure how it works, though turning it and swiveling it changes what you see. I think it has something of a mind of its own." Her eyes grow wide as she notices a tattered string of a fraying tapestry blowing in a draft coming up from a drop-hole, and she succumbs to cat instinct, pouncing at it and batting at it furiously.

"A magic mirror, eh?" Agatha mutters while tapping her chin. She goes up to the device, and asks, "Can you show me where Thomas is now, mirror?"

In the mirror, Agatha sees herself, dimly reflected (since the mirror could evidently use a good cleaning), and the window behind her. The scene reflected looks somehow different -- maybe because of all that dirt smudging the surface -- but it most certainly does not show any sign of Thomas.

Bragwaine bats at the dangling threads furiously, until she falls over backwards, sprawls over, and, still worked up, spies her flicking tail ... and starts running around in circles, chasing after it for a few rotations, before she falls over, exhausted.

Using her sleeve (which is dirty anyway), the girl tries to wipe the mirror clean. "Bragwaine, did Pelles keep maps? Ones that are more up to date than mine?" she asks the frolicking familiar.

The cat looks up from glaring at her flicking tail tip and meows, "Yes. They were ... uhm...." She purrs thoughtfully, then looks back to Agatha. "... in the other horn." Meanwhile, Agatha's dry sleeve picks up some of the dust, but mostly just shoves it around -- and the pressure causes the mirror to shift on its wheeled base, as the mirror -- swiveled to rotate up or down -- pushes back, and the reflection changes therein. For a brief moment, it reflects the ceiling of the tower, but then -- inexplicably, stars reflect in it, and the undersides of clouds, even though this particular part of the tower is still blessed with a rooftop.

Bragwaine meows, "There's a secret passage out of the tower, you know," even if, to be sure, Agatha did not know, "but, uhm ... I don't know where it is. Pelles would know, but he's not here right now."

"Just my luck," Agatha says, then notices the shifting reflections. She slowly rotates the mirror again to see what it shows.

As the mirror moves, swiveling slightly in place, Agatha sees what appears to be Ainigton -- ordinary, plain, magic-free Ainigton -- in the very early morning, so that the sky is blue and afire in the east, but the stars are still glimmering in the west. Clouds hang motionless in the sky, and a car with its headlights on sits in the middle of the street, stopped inexplicably. As Agatha moves the mirror some more, she sees a sparrow in mid-air -- frozen in place, wings outspread.

Agatha just stares at the scene for a moment, wondering why it's frozen. "Oh, time runs faster here, doesn't it?" she comments to the air. Fighting down a brief surge of homesickness, she tries tilting the mirror further.

The movement of the images on the other side is jerky, and doesn't always seem to follow logically her own adjustment of the frame. Occasionally, the view zooms in or out, or jogs a little up, down, or this way or that seemingly on its own. Briefly, as she turns the mirror about, she catches a glimpse of the Winters residence on Frost Street, certain features of which bear faint similarity to the very tower Agatha is in ... and then the viewpoint jerks along, wrenching, even as the joints of the mirror's swivel seem prone to catch and jerk now and then. A moment later, Agatha has to take a moment to figure out what scene she's looking at, but it appears to be the inside of ... Simon's bedroom?

"Did Pelles know that Sir Simon had gone to Ainigton?" Agatha asks the cat as she examines the image for anything out of the ordinary.

Bragwaine looks up from grooming her fur. "Hmm-what? Oh. Sir Lefallon? I suppose he would. I think Sir Lefallon is an exceptionally handsome knight -- even though he's not a cat." As Agatha looks about the room, she finds it to be woefully mundane in its accoutrements, a spare room that seems to have been used to accumulate spare junk and boxed knickknacks before it was drafted to serve as guest room for a visiting nephew. It lacks the touches that would mark it as the true home of any young boy, though it at least has the basic features of a bed and a dresser, and it also sports a large antique writing desk, and a wire mesh wastepaper basket to one side of it. In the wastepaper basket, there are a number of crumpled papers with writing on them -- By what Agatha, she can see that Simon must have been writing some letters, and she can barely make out that the date must have been back in April. (If she's any nosier than that, though, she'll need to adjust the mirror.)

"Handsome?" Agatha asks, sounding surprised. Then she remembers the odd creature that was superimposed over Simon in the Optikon photo. Maybe that's what Bragwaine is referring to. "I guess you trust him then? He was involved with Tom and the others before I was. In Ainigton, I mean," she says, then tries to get the mirror to zoom in on the crumpled letters. "I wonder who else Pelles was spying on, and if he used this mirror to somehow communicate with Max Winters."

"Of course I trust him!" Bragwaine says. "He's a knight, after all, and pure enough of heart to seek the Grail. If he was good enough for Pelles to let him into the tower, then he's good enough by me." It takes considering jiggling, and a bit of frustration, as Agatha ends up at points getting a close-up view of Simon's pillow (quite a few tiny hairs on it, really -- maybe a cat had been sleeping on it?), a close-up view of the ceiling (30 watt light bulbs), and then -- the wastebasket. The mirror seems to oblige a bit, making the letters more legible than they really ought to be, considering there's no real light source to speak of in the room, and Agatha is able to make out quite a bit....

To Lord April
From his most humble servant, Tatterdemalion

... write this with torn heart, having most recently returned from Mirari with the Lord Explorer Thomas, where we visited with Lord D....

... that the Wolf Lord sensed I was not what I seemed to be, and said as much to Thomas; yet Thomas said that he would not turn me from his side. In truth, I cannot find it in myself to betray....

---

-ril ... -mble servant, Tatterd--

...past weekend out camping in what the mortals call Baum Woods. Thomas had spoken of ... minions of Mirari as they winged across the sky or slunk along the earth, but ...-ys and the nights went quietly en-... If it was our allies whose tracks were discerned on One- ... urge my lord to remind his scouts to scatter, rather than ... -gether in such numbers that one cannot help ... -thing awry with their prints....

... pleases my lord, I would beg that you send Teirtu to assist me in the search ... to suspect that a man named Richard Kuning who recently came to ... we seek, for he is an old man as King Marc was. ... -ves that he can live longer than the rem- ... Year allotted every King in the mortal realm, for he has purchased ... begun to hire young craftsmen to repair it ... not the actions of someone who knows he has only bare Weeks, even Days ... -re he must pass into Historie.

Alas, Richard has vanished as if into thin ... the red-haired Agatha in charge of his house. Teirtu's ... -ty to camouflage himself as a bush might ... to learn from watching what Agatha does ... place, for there is a garden behi- ... quite overgrown...

---

To Thomas
From someone who ... -lad to call you friend

... -mber was right when he told you to distrust me. I am and have always been a spy enlisted ... a humble kobold called Tatterdemalion, ta- ... -tever shape was allotted me from cat to boy to monster, ... given one last miss- ... "Simon" ...

... yet you must know that you have never had to fear ... -om me. Of all th- ... who always treated me kindly. I would rather die ... yet I have always feared to tell you ... I saw how much it hurt ... -covered the truth behind Eli- ... -en could I reveal the truth behind my own mask to you, and have ... called your best friend?

-ll things must pass. When Lord December ... knew then that it would be only a ... the truth must be told. But I ... to think of how anger and betrayal will ... your face when you read this ... so like the coward I am at heart -- I wish I were ... legendary Sir Lefallon that I pretended to be! -- ... write you a letter, knowing that ... read it, I will be far, far away....

Unfortunately, as the mirror offers no discernable means by which to manipulate the wastebasket or its contents, or to peer into the folds of the crumpled papers any more so than it has allowed already, nothing further of the wadded papers can be made out.

Agatha takes a moment to let things sink in. "Rats. Simon isn't Simon at all, he's a Kobold pretending to be Simon. And he can change into a cat too! And that tree-boy is a spy after all, but I've got no way to warn October." She looks to the cat, and says, "Unless you can deliver a message once we get out of here?"

The cat blinks several times, looking up to Agatha. "What? Of course I could deliver a message ... but what's this about Simon changing into a cat? That's absurd. I can pick out cat-shape-shifters as easily as I can stare at my nose! And he's no shape-shifter."

"Well, his letter says he could change into a cat and into a boy, but that he's really a Kobold," Agatha says. "So maybe it's some special magic instead of an innate ability," she speculates, and fiddles with the mirror some more to see if it can tune into other places.

"That's impossible!" Bragwaine meows. "Pelles would pick up on that right away. Are you sure you're not talking about some other Simon?"

"I'm talking about the recent Simon," Agatha says, as she tries to find out if Pelles was spying on anyone else, like Tom, Alice or Elinor.

From below, footsteps are now heard climbing up the stairs to the single, intact tower. "Where did you run off to, Agatha?" Hannah's voice calls out.

The mirror's image jerks around quite a bit. Agatha doesn't manage to get any view of her house, or Tom's or Alice's, but she does manage somehow to wrench it back to show a view of the Winters residence, an old Victorian home. It looks like a bedroom, with two beds, and seated at a writing desk is a young boy wearing glasses, reading a book in the light of a banker's lamp -- Maximillan -- and in one of the two beds is a pony-tailed girl -- Sabrina -- eyes closed and face troubled.

Bragwaine stops grooming herself again, and meows, "Knight Redmane and I are up here! I don't know where Agatha is!"

"I'm up here," Agatha calls down. She wonders if she should tell Bragwaine about Sabrina or not...

More footsteps are heard approaching the study, then Hannah herself peers inside. "Interesting place you've found here," she comments, then steps over to where the red-haired girl and Bragwaine stand before the mirror. She smiles to the cat. "Sorry about confusing you - I meant to call for Knight Redmane, really."

"Agatha Redmane, that's me," Agatha says, trying to cover for the slip. She feels a bit uncomfortable peeking in on the Winters though, and shifts the mirror again. "This was Pelles' old study, and it seems he was spying on his counterpart in Ainigton. And on Simon too. I assume you've met him, Hannah?"

The mirror shifts to an upright position now, and shows what looks to be the attic of the Winters residence. Oddly, the arrangement of the objects shown in the mirror look very much like a reflection of this very room, right down to the position of a rose window corresponding to the window that gives the best view of the outside, and an old desk corresponding to Pelles's work desk, and various trunks piled here and there -- though of a more mundane nature (to the eyes of a mortal, that is) on the Ainigton side, and free of blown snow or signs of great decay.

Hannah looks about a bit, then shivers at the chill in the air here and pulls her cloak more tightly around her. "I did meet Simon - although, at the time, I simply knew him as a friend of Thomas', nothing more."

Agatha blinks and steps back from the mirror, glancing between the reflected room and the real room. "This mirror is freaking me out a little. How are Fiona and Ahearn doing downstairs?"

Bragwaine bats at the strings hanging from the tapestry again. In the mirror, a little grey cat bats at an old flower print dress hanging from a rack.

Hannah grimaces. "Ahearn and Fiona are well enough, but the door to this place is definitely not going to keep the trolls out until morning. I think we're going to have to find a way of getting away from here soon. Of course, the trick is going to be bypassing the trolls to make our escape!"

Bragwaine meows, "Oh." She stops playing with the tapestry. "I forgot about the trolls!" At once, her tail bottle-bristles and she hides under the desk and starts yowling pitifully. "Help! Help! Help!"

The cat reflected in the mirror is still frozen in place, batting at the old dress, despite Bragwaine's bolting for a hiding place.

Hannah now peers into the mirror, trying to see what it is that's 'freaking out' Agatha. "Is there something I'm missing?" she asks. "All I see is the room here, reflected in this mirror's surface."

"Well, there are chutes for dumping stuff on them here," Agatha says, and goes to one of the chests in the room. "Maybe there's still something in here we can pour on them that'll drive them off? Oh, hush, Bragwaine." She looks back at the mirror, then asks, "You don't see a different room that only looks similar?"

Hannah looks again, just to be sure, then shakes her head. "No, I just see this room. What is it that you see?"

"I see... well... sort of this room in another world," Agatha says, not sure how to really explain it. Odd that Hannah can't see it though, she thinks while prying open a chest.

With some protesting of creaky hinges, the chest pops grudgingly open, revealing some moth-eaten wizards' robes inside.

Hannah looks to the mirror again at Agatha's words, her brow lowered in concentration. "Another world, hmm?" she asks quietly. She steps towards it, and brings her fingers up to its surface. At her touch, the mirror tips a bit...

Agatha pokes through the robes with a frown. Shouldn't wizards know about mothballs? "Be careful, the mirror changes when it's moved."

The view changes, as Agatha predicts, though Agatha can't see quite what Hannah's seeing, since Hannah is in the way.

Hannah gasps at what she sees now and takes an involuntary step backwards. "What-? This is...this must be Cerberus Keep!" she exclaims.

As Hannah steps back, Agatha can quite clearly see ... Jon's Junkyard.

Meanwhile, poking about the robes reveals that the moths have gotten to the robes rather badly. There are a few baubles, a few trinkets, but nothing that looks especially valuable, and nothing in good enough condition to suggest that it might actually be magical.

"What?" Agatha says, and goes over to look through the mirror. "Ah... I think I understand now. The mirror shows us the areas appropriate to which world we're from."

Agatha reaches for the mirror and tries to tune it back to the room with Maximillan and Sabrina in it.

Hannah glances at Agatha now and nods. "So that is what you meant by 'another world' - you must be seeing the mortal realm."

It takes some effort, but the mirror wrenches back to show the room again. It is virtually unchanged since Agatha last saw it ... though Sabrina's expression seems SLIGHTLY less intense.

"Yeah," Agatha says, although she doesn't particularly like the term 'mortal realm' for some reason. "What do you see now?"

Hannah peers into the mirror once more. "I see the ruined branch of this tower," she says. "And the trolls as they appear below."

"Darn, I thought it might show Pelles," Agatha notes. "Oh well, help me look for something to dump on the trolls. There might be a secret doorway somewhere too."

The redhead tries another chest herself, hoping to find some unbroken vials or other potentially nasty stuff to use against the trolls.

Agatha pricks her finger on some broken glass as she opens one of the chests ... but she does indeed find some flasks still intact, cushioned in some rags.

Checking her finger, Agatha hopes now that she didn't find poison. "I've got some sort of potions here," she announces to Hannah. "Can you tell what they are, Bragwaine?" she asks the cat while removing the flasks for closer inspection.

One of the flasks is surprisingly warm to the touch, filled with a bright red-orange liquid that seems to bubble as if boiling, even though it's securely stopped up. Another flask is white like ... well, like milk, and no doubt that would have curdled by now, though it still looks liquid. Another potion is a brilliant shade of pink. Yet another just looks like muddy water. And the last intact flask is a faintly luminescent yellow-green. The cat comes over and sniffs at the chest. "Hmm. Smells like ... hmm ... berrysglade. No, you're not poisoned."

"Is any of this stuff useful against trolls though?" Agatha asks the familiar.

Hannah comes over to the chest the red-haired girl now has opened and kneels down beside her. "Surprising that these vials have lasted as long as they have," she murmurs, looking them over.

The cat looks up to Agatha. "I've no idea. I know what they smell like, but most magical potions ... well, once you open them up, you've got to use them right away, or the power will be wasted."

Agatha hmms, and looks to Hannah. "I suppose we could just pour them on the trolls to see what happens, but I'd hate to waste a healing potion on one."

Bragwaine meows, "Well, maybe if you healed one, he'd be your friend?" She looks dubiously to the others. "Okay, well maybe not."

The girl picks up the bubbling green potion, and says, "This looks potentially nasty though. Shall we test it out?" Agatha grins to Hannah.

Bragwaine sticks out her tongue. "Well, I'm definitely not drinking that!"

"Not on you, Bragwaine," Agatha says in exasperation. "On the trolls!"

Hannah gives Agatha one of her lop-sided grins. "If you don't mind the fact that you might potentially get your hand blown off by accident since we don't know what this potion really does, sure!"

"Blown off?" Agatha asks, looking shocked. She doesn't know anything about magic after all, so assumes Hannah is serious. "Maybe we could just drop it then, I'm sure it'll break on a troll's head."

Bragwaine looks at the potion dubiously. "I'm not sure you'll get THEM to drink it, either!"

"Maybe they would drink it though?" Agatha suggests. "They don't seem all that smart. Let's toss it at one and find out."

Hannah laughs at Agatha's reaction, then pats her shoulder. "We could certainly try that, instead. It's just that I'd rather you get to the Lord Explorer in one piece. Let's not take any risks if we don't have to."

"Besides," Hannah adds, sobering a bit, "I've had some experience with things that are not quite what they seem. It make me doubly suspicious."

Bragwaine meows, "I take no responsibility for whatever these potions do, if they don't work! Now, if they do work, though, then I hope you'll show your gratitude appropriately."

Agatha grins and heads for the stairway with the flask. "Better go have the horses move as far back from the door as possible, just in case."

Hannah nods and heads out of the study and back down the stairs. The sound of horses' hooves against stone is heard, then Hannah calls up, "Ready as we'll ever be!"

Agatha by now has made it to the remains of the other tower "horn" -- where the stairs end at a broken platform, as walls, ceiling and most of the floor have fallen away. The trolls are clearly visible milling about below, their beady eyes glinting in the moonlight.

Holding the vial out, Agatha tries to target the nearest troll before letting go. "Bombs away," she whispers.

Moments later, Hannah rejoins Agatha in the ruined part of the tower, coming in at a run so that she won't miss whatever effect the potion has on the trolls below...

The glowing green vial is easily tracked as it falls down, and all the trolls on this side watch it curiously as it plummets. It lands on a pile of rocks at the base of the tower ... and then EXPLODES in a blinding flash of light! The trolls cry out in anguish. Agatha sees stars.

Bragwaine, from the stairs, yowls, "Have they been instantly vaporized? Turned into petunias? Frozen like icicles?"

Agatha falls back against the stairs and covers her eyes. "Ouch! What happened, I can't see yet?"

Hannah jumps at the sound and the bright flash of light, but since she was not looking directly at the vial when it hit the stones, she can still see clearly. "Now I'm very glad we didn't open that bottle up here!" she says. To Bragwaine, she calls, "No, it didn't vaporize them, but it sure scared them! It seems that in addition to sunlight, they don't like bright light of any kind."

The stars in front of Agatha's eyes give way to spots in various colors. The effect is somewhat more dazzling than, say, merely being blinded by a camera flash -- a lot more colorful, at least. She can make out Hannah's position now.

"Are they gone then?" she asks. "Or just dazed?"

For what it's worth, Agatha, for the moment, can't hear the sounds of the door being pounded upon, though she can still hear the trolls making their usual ruckus down below.

Hannah leans over a bit so that she can observe the trolls' reaction more closely. "It would have been nice if that had completely scared them away, but they're only a little less active than they were a minute ago."

Bragwaine meows, "Well, what fun! Alchemy with trolls!"

Coming closer as her vision clears, Agatha looks through the hole. "We could try one of the other flasks," she suggests, just hoping to be able to get some sleep before morning.

Hannah looks even more dubious at the prospect of trying out another of the potions, but she goes back to the study and carefully fishes out another vial from the trunk. She holds it up for Agatha's inspection. "Perhaps this one?" she asks.

Agatha's vision clears more, and she's finally back to seeing as well as can be hoped in the moonlight. She can see Bragwaine cowering near the stairs -- and she can see that the potion Hannah is showing her is a brilliant shade of pink.

"I just hope it isn't Pepto Bismol," Agatha says, and nods to Hannah. "Drop away!"

"Hmm," Bragwaine comments, "I've never heard of that humor."

Hannah pauses and looks at Agatha oddly. "Pepto-what?" she asks.

"It's a... medicine... for upset stomachs," Agatha explains, looking a little embarrassed. "It's pink."

Bragwaine blinks at the vial. "Well, it's kind of pinkish-slightly-red, really." Now that Bragwaine mentions it, the vial does seem to be a slightly different shade of color. One might call it "hot pink" now.

Agatha leans back more into the tower. No telling what this potion will do, but it looks a lot less friendly than she first thought.

"Better scoot back after dropping it, just in case," she suggests to Hannah.

"Meow!" Bragwaine howls, and disappears down the stairs, hardly the brave one.

"I...see," Hannah says to Agatha, obviously not seeing at all. She shakes her head at the other girl, but continues over to the other part of the tower and prepares to drop the pink potion over the side. "Here goes something," she mutters, taking aim at another unwary troll. She releases the vial and takes a few quick steps backwards...

The vial plummets downward, a bright hot pink streak. This time, the trolls are a bit more wary, and most of them back up a few paces, though some are still evidently stunned, and just bumble around. The vial shatters upon impact with the rocks, and makes a large pink puff of smoke as it hits, spreading outward like a giant puff of cotton candy!

Agatha peeks over the edge. "A pink cloud? What good is that?" she mutters.

Several of the trolls bellow and scramble away, but those too slow to escape the cotton candy explosion are engulfed in pinkness. As the cloud dissipates, where there were once trolls are now several fluffy pink bunnies wiggling their noses and hopping about, and little pink chicks cheep-cheeping.

"Oh, wow!" Agatha exclaims, and bursts out laughing!

Bragwaine ventures out from hiding, looking down, and then crouches down, as if dearly wishing she were close enough to POUNCE something. "Meow!"

One of the trolls lumbers up to one of the little pink fluffy bunnies, and scoops it up, stuffing it into his mouth. The troll looks very satisfied.

Hannah bravely goes back to the edge and looks down. She gapes at the fluffy pinkness below, then can't help but to grin at the chicks and bunnies skittering about. "Well, that sure is different!" she exclaims. "Lord Pelles had a sense of humor, that's for sure!"

Several of the other trolls, encouraged by the first troll's action, lumber over and start devouring fluffy pink bunnies and cute little fluffy pink chicks, gulping them down whole. Bragwaine sulks.

The remnants of the fluffy pink cloud, slowly dissipating keep shifting color, going from hot pink ... to red.

One of the trolls looks distressed, and clutches at his stomach. Another one belches noisily.

"Eww, that's gross," Agatha notes as the trolls gobble up the pink critters, her laughter coming to an end.

Hannah's grin now fades as the trolls start devouring the critters, but she sobers even more at the fact that the pink cloud is suddenly changing colors. "Uh, perhaps we should back up again...?" she asks nervously.

Agatha doesn't need much encouragement, and scoots back towards the stairs.

Bragwaine, cowardly as ever, hides behind Agatha. "Meow?"

Somewhere down below, there is a rapid staccato noise of several explosions, followed by the howls and bellows of the surviving trolls (now seemingly much smaller in number).

Hannah, right behind Agatha at a run, covers her ears at the sound.

The explosions halt, and the trolls can be heard rushing about, pounding on things, bellowing loudly and angrily. What trolls are left (and it's still not clear whether or not more are arriving yet) are quite in a fuss now.

"I'm almost afraid to look now," Agatha whispers to Hannah.

Some brightly colored fluff wafts by, borne by a chill winter breeze. Whinnies from downstairs hint that both the horses are still alive and kicking (literally, as a troll stumbles away with a hoof print imprinted in his forehead).

By the looks of her expression, Hannah is definitely in agreement with Agatha, but she starts back up the stairs, anyway.

"Maybe the white potion will freeze them," Agatha suggests as she follows Hannah. "Or else turn them into ice cream."

Bragwaine meows, "And the moral of the story is, never EVER drink unlabeled magic potions!"

Hannah reaches the ruined part of the tower and laughs. "Now you know why I was so wary of opening any unmarked vials before dropping them on anything else!" She looks over the edge to see what became of the unlucky trolls...

There are a lot fewer trolls here, though it's hard to get a precise head-count, since they keep milling about on all sides of the tower -- or, rather, running about, pounding on walls, on the door, and occasionally on each other (though not violently enough to do each other harm, as much as Hannah and Agatha might hope so). There is a large area marked off in yellow-green, and a large amount of red fluff scattered about, with some ashen piles here and there.

Bragwaine looks over the edge. "Oooo! COLORS!"

"There's still a lot of them left," Agatha sighs. "Might as well try the last vial and hope it's more effective."

Hannah says, "Well, we decimated their numbers, even if we didn't wipe them out completely. That's something, at least! But I think you're right - we need to try something else, or else the trolls will break through before morning."

"Should we try the white one next?" Agatha asks. "We already know what the pink one does."

Bragwaine looks up at Agatha. "Don't forget the hot red-orange one. Of course, that might be useful as a foot-warmer."

Having mentioned this, the cat looks covetously at the red flask, flexing her cold, cold paws and shivering.

"I don't want to burn down the front door though," Agatha notes. "We should save that one as a last resort I think."

"Then I'll keep it for you!" Bragwaine offers brightly.

Hannah hmms. "I'm almost afraid to suggest this, but perhaps the red-orange one might be more helpful in chasing away the trolls? Based on the colors of the potions and the effects we've seen, that one might have a more violent effect, since it's a more vivid color. Or perhaps that's a foolish idea. What do you think?"

Bragwaine pouts. "I think it'd make an excellent foot-warmer," she meows. "Try the others first!"

Agatha agrees with the cat, saying, "We don't want to risk damaging the tower itself."

Bragwaine bounces. "Give it to me! Give it to meeeee!"

Hannah nods to the red-haired girl. "The white potion it is, then."

Agatha scoops up the cat with her hand. "Calm down, Bragwaine. You could break it jumping around like that."

Below, a few of the trolls appear to be working up a plan. Four of them have grabbed a struggling fellow and clobbered on the head, and are now holding his body between them like a battering ram. And, judging by the way they're charging at the tower door, it looks like that's exactly what they're going to use their fellow's head for.

Bragwaine snuggles up against Agatha. "Purr, purr, purr, purr."

The affectionate purring doesn't mix well with the sight of charging trolls. "Ack! Throw at the ones rushing the door!"

Hannah doesn't need to be told twice. She runs over to the study to grab up the bottle of white-colored potion. She hurries back to the ruined part of the tower, takes quick aim at the trolls trying to batter down the door, and lets it fall.

By this time, the "battering ram" has already been used to bludgeon the door twice, and by the sounds, it's not going to hold up for long. But then, the white vial spins through the air, arcing gracefully, and then landing to shatter -- not quite so gracefully -- on the head of the unconscious troll (with the hoof print in his forehead) who is presently being used as a battering ram by his fellows. Sparkles burst outward, and a warm aura falls upon the troll.

Miraculously ... the imprint in the troll's forehead pushes back out, and all the bruises and blisters and breaks heal themselves. He's now a perfectly healthy troll!

Bragwaine makes an impolite raspberry noise with her tongue.

Agatha sets down Bragwaine and draws her sword. "It was a healing potion! Toss the other pink one down!" she says, and then hurries down the stairs to defend the door.

Hannah groans at the sight and says, "That's what the white color meant - a healing draught!"

The now-healthy troll is also quite conscious -- and apparently takes issue with being used as a battering ram. He pulls free from the grasp of his "fellows" and starts boxing their ears soundly. They yelp and bellow and cover their heads and cower, but there are still more trolls who like the "battering ram" idea, and start wrestling amongst themselves for another "volunteer."

Bragwaine pouts at being put down, and scurries for a better hiding place.

Hannah makes another quick trip to the study to whisk the remaining pink potion out of the trunk, then runs back to the other 'horn' of the tower. She aims and tosses it down, hoping that it will land somewhere in the midst of the squabbling trolls.

Agatha reaches the lower room, and checks through one of the window-slits to see if the trolls are still about to batter down the door.

The pinkish flask flips end over end as it soars in an arc through the air, its contents sloshing about, and churning from the distress. The trolls have selected a "volunteer" and clubbed him senseless, and are now charging toward the door, preparing to batter it down -- heedless of the potion arcing toward them....

Somewhere in the midst of its flight, the vial of pink fluid loses its stopper and spills out into the night air right above the horde of trolls. A moment later, a large mist forms from the contents of the potion and then solidifies - into a large pink elephant with large pink wings! The trolls only have a split-second to look above them in shock as the elephant comes crashing down on them, squashing them instantly.

The remaining trolls, horrified at the sight of a giant pink elephant (too large for them to pummel flat) shriek and bellow mightily, and scatter in all directions, making a break FAR AWAY from the tower!

Bragwaine blinks a few times from where she's peeking out through a hole in the wall, then meows, "Nice aim!"

Agatha's jaw drops as she spies this through the arrow-slit. "Pelles had a sense of humor alright," she says with a giggle, and then scans around to see if any trolls were brave or stupid enough to stay behind.

The only trolls remaining ... are the flat ones.

"Can I have the red potion now?" Bragwaine meows hopefully.

For its own part, the elephant trumpets angrily at the scurrying trolls. It spreads its wings and takes to the sky - only to suddenly disappear in a puff of sparkly, pink powder.

"I think it's all clear!" Agatha calls up the stairs, and finally begins to unpack supplies for the night and break out Fiona's feedbag.

Hannah joins Agatha in the main downstairs room, grinning like an idiot from ear to ear. "Silly, yet incredibly effective," she comments, then goes over to extract her own supplies from Fiona's saddlebags.

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This site serves as a chronicle of sessions in an online roleplaying campaign moderated by Conrad "Lynx" Wong and May "Rowan" Wasserman. The contents of this site are (c) 2001, 2002 by Conrad Wong and May Wasserman except where stated otherwise. Despite the "children's fantasy" theme of this campaign, this site is not intended for young readership, due to mild language and violence.