Mum’s the Word!

Greetings once again, admirals of the arcane!

It is I, Zombie Dan, your tireless sherpa through the precarious mountain pass of the mind, leading you unerringly to the fabled and ageless D&D Minis community at Gamescape North. It’s been such a hectic season for those of us dedicated to fun and frolic. Though crazy weather has beaten at our shutters and sent us scurrying for higher ground, we were able to gather up our “little guys” in time and put them in a buoyant toy boat. If you get bored, try saying that five times fast. I’m never bored, of course. What with all the shadowy and eldritch…things scurrying around my kitchen floor making those awful chittering sounds, I’ve been busy as a baatezu with my hammer and spatula, making hors d’œuvres for National Henchman Appreciation Day. Oh, how my kobold lackeys will be surprised when they see the delightful spread of chitin, green ichor and spindly legs, arranged on a bronze buckler for easy consumption. All their hard work will be recognized, when for an entire hour, they will set down their pickaxes and be encouraged to shove hideous and unnameable treats into their greedy little gullets. Kill two birds with one stone, I say…

Speaking of stones, there have been some unusual goings-on over at the old temple ruins. Strange noises in the night, pets going missing and whatnot. Which leads us to the subject of this month’s game. Some things are best left buried in the sands, they say. But try telling that to Blue, my old hunting worg. He just can’t leave well enough alone. You oughta see what he left on my porch yesterday. Anyway, Saturday, Jan. 26, come on down to Gamescape North for this month’s Minis showdown: “Mum’s the Word!“:

It seemed like the perfect crime. The legend of the priest-king’s treasure had lived on for centuries, though some of the details had been lost in translation so as not to scare the kiddies. Like the curse the priest-king had laid upon his own tomb, as he lay dying from the scorpion’s sting. And the unstoppable tomb guardians, who could only be defeated by-

Never mind all that, the high inquisitor thought, his torch sending flickers of light into masonry which had lain wreathed in darkness for centuries. Ancient tales of blasphemy to guard the heathen treasures from raiders. If the priest-kings had any power, their temple would not be in ruins today. Truly, his deity would protect him from any minor spirits which lingered in this tomb. Vast treasures awaited him, which he could use to build his own temple, and even raise a proper army with which to cleanse this land. Not this motley gang of adventurers and freebooters. He cast an annoyed glance behind him, where the vampire hunter stood nervously whittling backup stakes.

“C’mon then, put down that silly twig and help me break through this stone,” he called out. “We must purge this place of evil.”

“Right,” the hunter said, somewhat coldly. “If by ‘evil’ you mean your pursuit of loot. Hey dwarf!”

“Aye, what is it now,” grumbled the dwarven artificer, slumping against a slab of rune-covered sandstone, his grubby fingers around an oversized flagon of dwarf spirits. “How can I help you tyrants t’ further defile me ancestors’ restin’ place?”

“The boss wishes to break through this ancient stonework. Activate the hammerer!”

“You heartless, greedy humans. Why, this stonework is masterful, simply masterful,” the dwarf said, tears falling into a beard caked with dust. Sighing, he leaned behind the steel construct he’d leased to the inquisitor, and turned a small gold key three times. Immediately, the gears within began clicking. The giant steel hammer at the end of its primary arm began slamming furiously into the tightly fitted stone, breaking into dust masonry which had been ancient when the humans had still been living in caves hurling rocks at each other.

“Yesssss,” the inquisitor cooed, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. The vampire hunter covered his ears, shielding his unnaturally keen hearing from the deafening crash of the ancient stone being pulverized by modern contraptions. This would be the last tomb job, he promised himself.

Finally, it was over. The hammerer stepped forward through the gaping hole it had created, disappearing into the darkness of the tomb. The inquisitor’s curiosity had gotten the best of him, and he leaned forward into the cloud of dust and blackness. “Finally, the treasure of the ancients,” he whispered. “With the fabled Scarab Crown upon my brow, I will be unsto-AAIIIIEEEEE!!!” His screams became muffled and choked as a petrified, bandaged hand shot into his mouth, pulling him by the tongue into the forbidden tomb…

That’s right, we’re going tomb raiding! Saturday, Jan. 26, come on down to Gamescape North for Mum’s the Word, a minis adventure guaranteed to put the swash in your buckle. Put together an adventuring warband of 150 points with which to explore the sandy tombs. Unearth fantastic treasures and magic items, horrific curses, and face down terrifying guardians who will scare you out of your fedora! The game starts at 1 p.m. sharp, so show up early if you need some help putting your warband together, or just look over the merchandise and size up the competition. I’ll be there at noon, sipping coffee and translating forgotten tomes back into Esperanto.



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