Thasor is dead. I am removing all remnants of him, because he served no real purpose, could go nowhere, and has been done better in other mods than I ever could...it's not like he could become part of the party (as I wanted all builds supported). This is not to say that telepathy won't be involved at some point.
The reason why this is taking so long (other than my distractions with other projects and couple-month long break) is that I had no clear vision in terms of plot. Also, I was trying to learn the editor as I went along, which resulted in a pretty uneven mod. Because of this, today I started revamping earlier levels to make things more consistant. Design is 90% done at this point; now it's just a matter of plugging in the plot, tweaking a couple of boss fights, and finishing the final level.
The Headless Orc And Cheese is bustling tonight, although you and your companions are bored. Reflections from those newfangled, fancy lanterns bounce around the room as people raise tankards to thirsty mouths and woman swing jewelry-covered arms in rhythm to the so-called band. "Slaves," you mumble as you draw a frothy sip from your own mug.
"What's that, you say?" asks one of your companions at the table.
"Slaves," you answer. "The band. They're all enslaved subterranean creatures. Should've been killed. They'd just as soon throw those poison darts they love so much at us as look at us."
"True, but they play a helluva tune," comes the reply.
"And while I'm on the subject," you announce, feeling the ale kick in, "what's the deal with these lantern thingys?"
Your companions roll their eyes at each other, but remain quiet.
" 'Spossed to be safer? Bah. Give me a good old torch, any day. People are spoiled these days." You flip your mug, now empty, upside down on the table.
One of your companions nudges you with an elbow and nods in the direction of the bar, where a man even more obnoxious and loud than you is making his own feelings known.
"Isss not right!" he slurs. You notice other patrons gathering around him. "Why should their shity be bigger than oursh? They're not even human, for Toorum'sh shake!"
Your interest peaked, you wave to the bar wench for more ale as you struggle to focus on the man as he continues his rant.
"I shay kill 'em all!" He suddenly crouches down on his stool, his voice a loud stage whisper, although you're certain he thinks he's being conspiratorially quiet. "They shay theresh a ton of loot in there. How come no one ever inveshtigatesh?"
One of your companions leans toward you and says, "You know, maybe we should get in on this action, before someone else does. This guy sounds like he's recruiting."
"For what?" you ask.
"I dunno. Just a thought." Your companion leans back. "Wonder if there's any magic gear in there?"
"I'm TELLING you, IT'S A SHITY! A BIG, SHITY where THEY all LIVE!" The drunk at the bar is really playing to the crowd now. The bartender is tries to calm him down, but the man waves him off and continues, relishing the attention. As he speaks, you see tiny droplets of froth fly from his mouth. "They even have their own PRISHON! And I HEAR they have their own ARENA, TOO! WE don't have an ARENA! All WE have is thish LOUSHY BAR!!"
With that, you watch the bartender jump over and grab the man, pulling him off the stool and dragging him toward the door. You jump up to intercept, as your tablemates stare at you.
"Hold on there," you say. You turn your attention to the man. "What's your name?"
"Eh?" The man looks at you, bleary eyed, as the bartender gives his arm another tug toward the door.
"How do you know so much about this place?"
"Eashy," he answers. "My coushin went there. He and shome friends. Only he made it back alive, but he found thish amazhing orb down there, and he shaysh there's more shtuff, too."
"If you're so worked up about it, why don't you go?"
The bartender throws his hands up in the air and walks away. The drunk drops his eyes to the floor. "Because I'm too shcared," he replies. "My coushin shays they're exshperimenting on other creatures down there, building thingsh we've never sheen before. Monshtersh."
"You know how to get there?" you ask.
You think for a moment. "I'll be out in a bit. Wait for me if you want a cut of the loot. You can show us where it is." You flip him a copper piece and head back to your table. After a moment of silence, the companion who spoke earlier says, "We should go."
"We have no gear," you say.
"Sounds like we can get anything we want in there."
You remain quiet, waiting for the offer you know is coming.
"In fact, I'll wager we could go there naked and still come out richer and better dressed than the King hisself."
"And what will you bet, if you're naked?" you ask.
Your companion smiles. "Say, ten percent of my share?"
You look at your companions and see everyone grinning and nodding to each other, the boring evening apparently over.
"You're on," you reply, as you all rise and head toward the door. "But when we get there, you're stripping first."