Stopped dead in my tracks

 

So today I experienced my first (and hopefully, last) inhumation. I was involved in some shenanigans in the Ninja guild a short while back, but was expecting nothing to come of it. I expected wrong, as I was to become painfully aware of while waiting in a local shop:

Flying Butterfly opens the west door.

You notice Flying Butterfly nearby.

Flying Butterfly closes the west door.

Suddenly, Flying Butterfly steps in front of you and, before you can defend yourself, slams the side of her hand into your throat.

You try to gasp for air but none can get through your crushed windpipe.  You start to feel dizzy and collapse, your sight dimming.

Looks like you were just inhumed.

You stand up.

You feel at the mercy of the elements.

A Tsortean metal shield clatters to the ground.

A butterscotch yellow oak staff falls from a rip in the air.

Your skin feels itchy, and you scratch it before remembering that as a ghost you don't have to do things like that any more, and your morphic field reasserts itself by turning your skin back to its proper texture.  Well, apparent texture, since you're now intangible.

You feel less articulate.

Someone bows deeply to you.

Someone says: MY, WE'VE BEEN A BIT CARELESS, HAVEN'T WE?  SHALL WE POPPADOM TO THE NEXT DIMENSION?

You turn and see Death standing behind you.

I have no unusual complaints, but it would have been nice if I had been terminated through the Tea Ceremony. Trespassing the guild grounds to check if I could get a shot at it myself was the cause of my hiatus to begin with...

Ouch... (and room spells)

Most unfortunate death today (been a long time since I met the guy WHO TALKS LIKE THIS). Running alone after lions at half your health and without the trollskin is really asking for it. Quite some experience was thrown down the drain, but that's my fault... tsk, tsk

Anyway, I wanted to briefly comment today some of the room spells we have. As you all know, a wizard's main offensive spells tend to fall on this lot. True, there are some good individual ones (notable the Spear and Fire Bunny spells), but for various reasons (specially components, time and spent guild points) they don't compensate as much as the others.

When it comes to room spells, the choice really comes down to three[1] : Pragi's Fiery Gaze, Effermhor's Hypersonic Assault and G’flott’s Olfactory Nightmare. In the past, there were some differences as amounts the damage, mindspace and time of casting they had. This has now been changed, and the 3 have been more or less equalized. Nevertheless, they still present their own unique advantages and disadvantages:

-Pragi's is the staple spell, and the one any wizard is probably going to cast most all through his life. It consists of a ball of fire that you throw at all the people in the room, burning them badly in the process. Among its strong points are that it is very good at taskmastering enchanting (and many of us don't have it as a primary), a more or less decent damage with regular skills and, above all, the cheapness and inexaustibily of its component: an eye. Being able to harvest them while killing makes it very easy to never run out of components (indeed, it is the one wizard offensive spell that you're likely to use when grouping).
On the down said, the main problem is it hardly affects trolls, so you'll need another stuff (either the Spear, Effermhor's or simple melee) when having to tackle them.

-Effermhor's is a very similar spell. In this case, the damage produced on those that surround you is produced by a blast of pure sound that will grate or greatly hurt the ears (and bones) of others. It doesn't tm as well as Pragi, but it has advanced by Dancing skills (Fred Astaire, tremble!) quite a bit...
As size and damage don't change, the main advantage of the spell is that sound affects troll in a greater degree then the other attacks, making this spell ideal for those large concentrations of troll bodyguards and warriors that tend to abound in some pubs and streets of Ankh-Morpork. Its main setback are the components: a jar of mandrake roots and (specially) beeswax candles, which are consumed in the casting. Problem being candles are to be found in infinitely less numbers than eyes (and yet there's up to 8 shops I frequent that sell them).

-Last, we have G’flott’s, which causes a cloud of toxic gas to affect all people with noses and general breathing apparatuses in your inmediate vicinity. Traditionally the less employed of this trio, its better point is the fact the its component (sulphur blocks) can stack: you may carry huge amounts of them in your backpack while occupying only one item slot. But the problems are two: blocks are harder to find and collect in grand quantities (I know of about 4 places that sell them, and not many at a time), and the damage on trolls is even lower than Pragi's.

You'll probably find yourself using some or all of these spells at a time. I had the three in my mind for a time, but the ones I rely on (and which I have remembered at the moment) are Pragi and Effermhor's, their adequate, specialized roles working decently well for me (except when I have silly accidents, like today. I should improve my offensive bonuses, as it still takes me too long to kill creatures like lions...).

[1] There's also Pragi's Lost Gaze, an oriental, watered-down Pragi whose advantage is that it can be cast from a different room. But the fact that it does substantially less damage, and the huge weight of its components make it unpractical except for fetishistic wizards with high strength or a permanent, pet cloud accompanying them...

Stupydest Wayes of Dieyng

[Well, I could write a book about that... last one was this morning. After going to House Sung to get a new mission, and receiving the chit and orders from Kunaikuka, my mind decides to wander elsewhere (Roundworld me reading pages at wikipedia...). When I return, I find a dead body. How? I must have accidentally pressed the key that activates Pragi before leaving...]

Kunaikuka begins looking through the records.

Kunaikuka whispers to you in Agatean with a Bes Pelargic accent: Having checked your records, it appears your level of prestige does not entitle you to a new title. Maybe you should work on changing that.

Kunaikuka shuffles about whilst muttering curses.

You get a cured human right eye from Bottomless Pit.

You prepare to cast Pragi's Fiery Gaze.

The iridescent scarab beetle nuzzles you affectionately.

You lazily close your hand around the eye.

You poke your tongue out at the world.You struggle to hold your hand closed as red sparks shoot out from between your fingers.

You let go of the eye. It hovers above your hand.

The eye ignites and a small ball of fire forms above your hand.

Kunaikuka loudly exclaims in Agatean with a Bes Pelargic accent: Run!

Kunaikuka leaves south.

You move your hand and the ball of fire zooms out into the immediate vicinity and sweeps over everything.

The fire fails to harm the light green moon dragon.

The fire dies away.

Kunaikuka arrives from the south.

Kunaikuka moves aggressively towards you!

Hp: 1873 (1873) Gp: 273 (327) Xp: 52976

Kunaikuka punches at you but your floating medium metal shield swoops in and absorbs all of the blow.

(...)

Hp: 54 (1873) Gp: 327 (327) Xp: 53183

Kunaikuka viciously boots you in the stomach.

As you dissolve into ectoplasm, the light green moon dragon falls through you with an embarrassed squawk.

Your skin feels itchy; large pieces flake off as you scratch it.

You feel dry now.

Someone says: MY, WE'VE BEEN A BIT CARELESS, HAVEN'T WE? SHALL WE POPPADOM TO THE NEXT DIMENSION?

You turn and see Death standing behind you.

The light green moon dragon nibbles at the ground thoughtfully.

Death says: AH, THERE YOU ARE. ARE YOU THE LAST ONE?

Death says: ALAS, YOU ARE DEAD NOW: SHUFFLED OFF THE MORTAL COIL, OUT OUT BRIEF CANDLE, FAREWELL CRUEL WORLD...

Death pauses for dramatic effect. He's trying to humanise a touch.

Death says: I SUPPOSE YOU WANT TO BE ALLOWED TO STAY, DO YOU?

Dead Cold??

[I had just taxied to the Temple of the Listening Monks. Happily arrived, I had the time to formulate a spell (blorping the place, in fact) to just... die?? Of cold??? In a minute's time????]

You put the silver ring in a pocket in the leather armband pouch.
Your jet black crystal bell bracelet tintinnabulates gently.
You're so cold you feel as though you're about to expire.
You shiver.
The cold is just too much for you.
As you dissolve into ectoplasm, the light green moon dragon falls through you with an embarrassed squawk.
There is a sudden white flash. Your magical shield has broken.
A medium metal shield clatters to the ground.
Your skin feels itchy; large pieces flake off as you scratch it.
As the Trapped Salamander slips onto your hand, a wave of warmth sweeps through your body.
You shiver.
The light green moon dragon flutters to the ground and ambles about, nibbling at things.
Someone says: MY, WE'VE BEEN A BIT CARELESS, HAVEN'T WE? SHALL WE POPPADOM TO THE NEXT DIMENSION?
You turn and see Death standing behind you.
Death says: LET'S HAVE NO ARGY BHAJI.
Death says: DO YOU HAVE ANY LAST GOOD-BYES OR IS IT STRAIGHT TO THE AFTERLIFE?

[oh, damn...]

Death says: I SUPPOSE YOU WANT TO BE ALLOWED TO STAY, DO YOU?
You hear a very distant whisper echo through the valley.
Death says: I REALLY DON'T LIKE DOING ALL THESE FAVOURS FOR YOU PEOPLE.
Death says: I MEAN, WHAT'S IN IT FOR ME?
Death says: HOW ABOUT I JUST LEAVE YOU HERE? NONE OF THE GODS WILL TOUCH YOU WITH A BARGE POLE.
Death says: JUST DON'T TELL ANYONE I DID THIS FOR YOU!
Death says: I MAY NOT BE SO FORGIVING IN THE FUTURE. BE MORE CAREFUL.
Death gets back onto Binky and rides away.

[The aftermath was quite funny too, seen in perspective. Mi taxi driver (Rev. Pli Veridicus), who was a pishite, had to return to the rescue-and-resurrection. In the quick chaos of trying to recover, get my stuff and not die again, I spent the last charge of a blue crystal ring to find myself... at the Hub? At the top of Cori Celesti??? O, Gods, today was my lucky day... Fortunately, a kept scroll, sound advice and the help of a witchy friend of Nuit's all conspired to take me back, safe and sound, to the halls of Unseen University and a really huge dinner to make me forget my troubles...]

D'oh!

Well, none of us likes to die, and hear the short and amusing solliloquy of, you know, the one THAT SPEAKS LIKE THIS... Yet it happens. There are so many funny ways to die... but a Lag attack isn't one of them...

Winswand promised himself a happy harvesting day through the stinky streets of the Great Wahoonie. While roaming the middle of Short Street, an appetizing group of a merchant and three (human) bodyguards caught his eye.

Sweet and easy cake, thought the wizard. I won't even have to spend always scarce candles or carrots. A few eyes at the most. A little dance and Pragi's Fiery Gaze was let loose. Then, disaster struck.

After reconnecting (and resurrecting, and cursing), Winswand remembered having buried the LAG's cured head, which until recently he kept at a vault for kicking around and for a possible casting of Myrandil's mask of death, a toy spell he was very fond of. It gives bad luck to treat him reasonably, he thought.

So, while musing plans for revenge (and suffering from that post-death trauma and the lazyness of having to go to Pishe's for a new life and to the Library for re-remembering each and every spell), Winswand decided to drown his miseries in cheap wine and the best lamb curry you can find in Ankh-Morpork.

(Incidentally, the lamb wasn't lamb and the wine wasn't cheap. Well, when things start turning wrong, they forget to change the direction from time to time...)