Another slog, another job. Life isn’t boring in the 42nd. Well it actually is. one to two weeks off, three to five hard days on. Seems daemons are afoot, scenting out to get under the Lady of Pain’s skirt. Well the 42nd won’t have any of it, so we’re called to task again. This time, capture an artifact ship that can enter Sigil on its own. With it, evil red eyed beasties could cross the center line.
Off to an icy layer of the buggered hell (OU812, I think), with Sir Lord Gonna Get Us and the Ship Home Again. I just called him Ned. Anyway, to go out, we had to go down, muck some shite, and have a penny of a time. Right next, we’re in icy Hell. STRANGE. As we’re hopping giant floating ice moats, we’re fending off jibblet hoards of snooters and waggs. Some of the crew fell slack, but just a square-T and its all kipper again.
Next we find the sodden ship, and Ned starts assembling the gate to get us all home with the shiney. Pax to that when waves of hoards of medium and big shites show up for a shagging. Well Bob’s not my uncle, so we jumped the turnstyle, and spanked little johnny behind the ear. Thinking it safe we stood vigilant while wishing Ned had some fraking wings up his arse, and would hurry up finishing the gate.
Well it was about that time that grandaddy poo but Deamon Lord jumped up. Let me tell you, when he said boo, I nearly shat the Tiefling’s drawers (cause no one would notice since his were already poopy brown- hehehe). This here fight was one to behold, and behold I did. Ole Vox here had very little that could hurt Lord Slushy, so distance I kept. Needless to say, my teammates in the 42nd are with me for a good reason, and about half a day later, they killed the bastich.
As if by magic, suddenly Ned’s through with the gate and back to Sigil, via the Outlands, we go. Off I go to the Sense8’s. I’ve got a plan, and a mystery to solve. I must know the answer…