Notify Message
Mume1
Xmas
(Pinn edit: moved from forums - go here to leave comments)

-- -- -- oo OO oo -- -- --

Immortal Souls: A Christmas Story


A romantic children’s horror story in a historical-fantasy-sci-fi setting, based on the well-known Christmas story “Aladdin and his magic lamp”.
Written by Anthundorme Waelgrifu of Gondor and Someone else who is actually competent at this kind of stuff.


Starring ...

Lindrad - - - “ye olde guilde leader”
Thoormn - - - “the raid leader”
Swnoic - - - “the one who gets killed in Mardoth a lot”
Quinniel - - - “Santa Claus”
Ewmygriel, Afkor, Esmethar, Merlputter, Cassadrwen and Bradhrudhor - - - “all his little elves”
Drakarin - - - “the ghost of Christmas past”
Sallyh - - - “simple simon the pieman”
Eatmyarrows - - - “the Christmas grinch”
Serelyn - - - “Snow Red”
Nathang - - - “the seven dwarves”
Lillibelle - - - “the sugar plum fairy”
Pinn - - - ”the Christmas punch”
Heynow - - - the “big bad wolf”
Evilmagic - - - “the morning after hangover”
Wolfieone, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine etc etc - - - “the crowd scene”.


-- -- -- oo OO oo -- -- --


Act 1, Scene 1.
Nine Chestnut Street, Bree Homesteads.
The Immortal Souls kin is in conference. Lindrad is sat at the head of the table, Swnoic is under the table, and Eatmyarrows, for some reason, is dangling from the ceiling. The rest of the guild is comparing armor, except for Jorung, who is mumbling softly to his soldier.


Lindrad: Order order!

Ewmygriel: I’ll have a large scotch, thank you.

Lindrad: The next person to crack that old joke gets demoted to “recruit”!

Lillibelle: LOL.

Chandraen: How does a pair of pants give +400 reaction modifier?

Neurienal: I guess they must bulge nicely.

Kohrlic: LOL.

Serelyn: The leader said QUIET!

[Sudden hush]

Lindrad: Thank you. Now, we are gathered here today to discuss whether or not we should do the Lotro Christmas quest.

Wolfieone: Wot’s thart?

Lindrad: (consults notes) Well according to the Lotro site, we have to tame some reindeer, build a sleigh, get lots of tinsel for decoration, make lots of mince pies, then deliver presents to all the children in Middle Earth.

[Pause]

Anthundorme: Wow, and I thought the epics were tough!

Jorung: Hey, I just invented a new language!

Creah: You can’t INVENT a language by talking to your hired help!

Jorung: I just did! See here, one hundred in...oh...“idiot”.

[At that moment Reenie, Mozart, Emy, Palasha, Learian and Quenyarina rush in, faces flushed with excitement and excessive alcohol]

Lindrad: Where have all you minstrels been?

Reenie: Sorry we’re late.

Mozart: Yeah, we were like doing a gig in Ered Luin man!

Thoormn: A gig?

Palasha: Yeah. We did a few carols, then a bit of a sing along, then we handed the hat round.

All: HOW MUCH?

Reenie: In Ered Luin? Are you serious? We were lucky to get the hat back.

Thoormn: If that’s the alternative I vote we do the quest.

[A general buzz of agreement, mixed with “the experience will suck” and “good loot though”]

Lindrad: Ok, we’ll split up. Thoormn? Take one group and get the reindeer. Pinn? Take another group and get the tinsel. Tradeskillers? To me!

Thoormn: Any idea where these reindeer are?

Lindrad: According to the Lotro wicki, they are in....Middle-Earth.

Asuher: It’s SO useful is that site.

Thoormn: Ok we'll go and search Middle-Earth.

Emy: Don’t forget to look under the bed.

Pinn: Ok I got my team. Whereabouts is the tinsel?

Lindrad: Oh that's easy. It's in an instance. Let me see... Ah yes. Here we are. "Assault on Hollywood".

Anthundorme: What?

Lillibelle: Tinsel town

Evilmagic: Ha de ha.

Pinn: Hold on. This instance actually says "Totally hopeless assault on completely impregnable Hollywood instant death dungeon, with spiky bits".

Lindrad: It's just a technical distinction. You'll be fine. [activates the instance remotely].

Pinn: But...

[Pinn's raid group disappears]

Lindrad: Excellent. Ok we need one group to make the sleigh and one to make the pies...

[All the Dwarves line up to make the sleigh, the hobbits line up to make the tasties].

Thoormn: Hmm.


-- -- -- oo OO oo -- -- --


Act 2, Scene 1.
Kuru-Leiri camp, the far north of Forochel.
It is deserted. Suddenly there is a flurry of flashing lights and blurred air and an Immortal Souls raid group pops into existence, a bit like a collection of cut-price “Star Trek” extras. They all shiver, apart from Atarg, who is a longbeard.


Daenerys: What we doing here?

Thoormn: Look, real reindeer live in the northern tundra, so in Lotro that's gonna be Forochel.

Linverion: I don’t know why anyone would want to live here, it’s horrid.

Atarg: Shut your face sunshine boy, or Ill smash it in!

Linverion: Ah, a graduate of the Moria philosophy and debating school eh?

Thoormn: Alright, alright, if you're cold, we'll start a campfire.

Longnel: It won't work!

Thoormn: What?

Longnel: I can't get the fire going! I'm rubbing and rubbing these sticks....no fire.

Atarg: I got some matches.

[Longnel fumbles with the matches]

Longnel: No, rubbing them together isn't working either.

Thoormn: Oh dear.

Linverion: At least no one gave him two sticks of dynamite.

Thoormn: Enough of this. Spread out. Let's find these reindeer.

Fomko: Hey, I got them on track!

All: Woot!

[The raid group sets off in a long single file, each member having put /follow on the one ahead of them, apart from Longnel, how did /follow on himself by mistake. The main body tops a rise and sees some very strange shapes in the snow.]

Fomko: There they are!

Emy: What do we do now? Kill them? Subdue them?

Longnel: wwwwwaawwwdddwwww

Atarg: LOL

[Longnel runs to the group, on half health and chased by a very large white thing]

Frosty the snowman: [menacing as all hell] GRRR!

[Frosty the snowman scored a hit on Atarg for 1024 points of damage.]

Atarg: Ow.

Emy: Healing incoming.

[Frosty the snowman scored a hit on Emy for 4245 points of damage.]

Emy: Minstrel outgoing!

Thoormn: Come back you coward!

Emy: The point about cowards is that they DON’T come back!

[Jorung scored a hit on Frosty the snowman for 60 points of damage.]
[Frosty the snowman scored a hit on Jorung for 960 points of damage.]
[Frosty the snowman scored a hit on Jorung for 1126 points of damage.]

Jorung: Right that’s it, I’m outta here too...

Fomko: LOL

[Linverion does 64 points of non-melee damage on Frosty the snowman.]
[Atarg scored a hit on Frosty the snowman for 56 points of damage.]

Linverion: Beat you!

Atarg: Bah!

[Frosty the snowman scored a hit on Linverion for 744 points of damage.]
[Fomko scored a hit on Frosty the snowman for 78 points of damage.]
[Thoormn scored a hit on Frosty the snowman for 1909 points of damage.]

Emy: Don't cast cold based spells on it...it’s making it bigger!

[Linverion does 364 points of non-melee damage on Frosty the snowman.]
[Atarg does 257 points of non-melee damage on Frosty the snowman.]
[Thoormn does 999 points of non-melee damage on Frosty the snowman.]
[Frosty the snowman dies with a wet splosh.]

Frosty the snowman: I’m walking thru the air...

[You have looted a lump of coal Pending]
[You have looted a lump of coal Pending]
[You have looted a large carrot Pending]

Fomko: They have got to be joking!

Longnel: Hold on, I got an idea. Pass me the coal.

[Frenzied rubbing]

Longnel: No, its still not starting a fire.

Linverion: Gimme that!

[Linverion applies match, a campfire is soon roaring away]

Linverion: Ah lovely.

Atarg: Ya pointy-eared wimp.

Thoormn: Hmm...by the same logic...

[Thoormn gives a carrot to a reindeer]

Reindeer: Following you master.

All: YES!


-- -- -- oo OO oo -- -- --


Act 2, Scene 2.
Bree town, Crafting hall.
A long line of Immortal Souls kinfolk are carrying wood, glue, metal bits and other assorted trading ingredients in through the main entrance. Formidable swearing is emerging from the side door. Lindrad and Quinniel pick their way inside. Ghostdragn is sewing a thick red furry outfit. Swnoic, Bararthur, Andubur and Brodnik are working amidst a huge heap of smashed boxes, torn decorative woodwork and broken runners.


Lindrad: Ah, the cream of the kin's tradeskillers!

Swnoic: Hey thanks.

Lindrad: I meant that you were rich and thick.

Quinniel: How’s it going?

Andubur: Badly! This is the most #&£$& recipe I have ever seen! There must be like forty combos and they are all really tough!

Quinniel: [looking around at all the debris] How much is all this going to cost?

Swnoic: Well, as near as I can make out, given the known prices, and the anticipated success rates, and the value of sell backs...you could say about one million gold.

Quinniel: One million gold!

Andabur: You said it.

Quinniel: ARGH. [collapses on the floor]

Barathur: He’s fainted! Stand aside! Give him air! Open his collar! Take off that that nasty heavy wallet!

You have received 1245 gold, 123 silver and 42 coppers.

[Quinniel comes round.]

Quinniel: Ohhh, where am I?

Swnoic: In debt.

[At that moment Nanuil and Tarnezil walk in, their hands full of high quality furs]

Ghostdragn: Hey these are really good...where did you get them from?

Tarnezil: From the guildmaster in Rivendell.

Andubur: That was very generous of him.

Nanuil: Sure was. He was very good about us looting them off his body.

Quinniel: What? You didn’t tell us you were going to kill the guildmaster!

Nanuil: I was trying to be diplomatic. Anyway, Tarnezil was able to give him one of the very best funeral services.

Tarnezil: The top treatment, down to the imitation gold handles on the coffin. He would have been very pleased. If he’d been alive.

Nanuil: He WAS very pleased. He remembered us in his will.

All: HOW MUCH??

Nanuil: Oh no money. He just said, “I remember Immortal Souls.”

[At that moment, the latest final sleigh assembly collapses into a heap of wooden rubble]

Swnoic: Drat! Another 50k gone!

Quinniel: Ohh [faints again]

Brodnik: At least I got another skill increase. I’ll be a master at this rate.

Swnoic: What? You mean you aren’t a master now?

Brodnik: Metalsmith expert 167. Is that not good?

Swnoic: ARGH! [The tradeskillers chase Brodnik round the room throwing screwdrivers at him]


-- -- -- oo OO oo -- -- --


Act 2, Scene 3.
A hidden cave deep within Eastern Gondor.
Sallyh, Susee and assorted cooks are mass-producing an enormous horde of mince pies. Sallyh has a mad gleam in her eye. Production is at a prodigious rate, but the finished pile is not growing, as the Hobbits are eating most of them when nobody is looking. Ewmygriel is exploring alternate realities with the help of the cooking brandy. The guards keep ducking in and out of the entrance.


Argaon: Blasted orcs! Why do we have to do this here?

Sallyh: Because this is the best place to get all the components.

Makeme: But it’s full of people who want to kill us!

Susee: Well you want to kill them.

Makeme: That's different. I'm one of the good guys. Excuse me.

[Makeme leans over and pushes his sword right through an Orc scout's head]

Orc: Urk.

Susee: I rest my case. Pass the jalapeno sauce.

Ewmygriel: Hic!

Argaon: I suppose it could be worse. At least we persuaded Heynow to get the tinsel rather than stay here and make pies.

Makeme: [wipes blade, looks at bloodied mess, drops it into the cake mix] I thought Heynow was pretty good at this kind of thing?

Sallyh: You mean he’s super proficient in Poisonmaking! Can you imagine if we’d let him in here? We’d have ended up murdering everyone under level 20 on Christmas Eve!

[Khirlic and Tuttlefish walk in, carrying what look like two tons of fresh meat in bags]

Khirlic: Here you go Sal!

Sallyh: Guys, I hate to tell you this, but mincemeat isn’t made with real meat.

Tuttlefish: What? We spent hours killing just about every cow in Dunland to get this lot!

Khirlic: Yeah, you never heard so much complaining! "Oh now we're all gonna starve this winter". I ask you.

Ewmygriel: Hic!

Sallyh: Well shove it all over there for now.

[Khirlic and Tuttlefish put the bags down and pull some canvas to one side, revealing Samliman eating a mince pie.]

Sallyh: [dangerously] Is that one of the mince pies I’ve been making?

Samliman: Umm....possibly.

[Khirlic pulls the canvas completely away, revealing a dozen hobbits of the kin feasting. All turn to look at Samliman.]

Susee: Well?

Samliman: We were doing quality control.

Makeme: [counting rapidly] On six HUNDRED pies?

Samliman: Ah. Well. You see. Umm….HEY ORCS! OVER HERE! COOO-EEEE!

Argaon and Makeme: Eeek!

[Hordes of Uruks charge in and commence hitting Argaon and Makeme. Sallyh valiantly guards the pastry. The hobbits sneak off in the confusion]

Ewmygriel: Hic!


-- -- -- oo OO oo -- -- --


Act 2, Scene 4.
Deep in the seedier parts of Hollywood.
An Immortal Souls raid group is massacring the local fauna.


Pinn: Ha hah!

Anthundorme: Die evildoers!

Lillibelle: Hai-Ya!

Nathang: I thwacks youse!

Heynow: Stab stab stab!

Reenie: Sigh. Healing.

[Repeat, until all monsters have horrible deaths]

Pinn: Well that’s that. Now, according to track, the tinsel is in this next room.

Lillibelle: How can you track tinsel?

Pinn: I’m not. I’m tracking the giant fire-breathing dragon guarding it.

All: WHAT!

Pinn: Oh didn’t I mention that?

Anthundorme: No you didn’t.

Pinn: Look it’s no problem. Heynow just needs to sneak in behind it and get the tinsel.

Heynow: Hmm. How can I put this…NO!

Pinn: Alright, alright. We’ll cover you. One of us will go in and distract it while you do the sneaking.

Heynow: Who’s going to volunteer to do that?

Lillibelle: Reenie is always complaining about being at the back.

Reenie: Anthundorme is always saying she’s a hero.

Anthundorme: Nathang has the most hit points.

Nathang: My brain hurts…

Pinn: We’ll do this fairly. Nathang? Write your name on twenty pieces of paper and put them into this hat.

Nathang: OK.

[furious scribbling sounds]

Pinn: Now draw one out. What does it say?

Nathang: Anthundorme.

Anthundorme: What?

Evilmagic: Well volunteered Anth!

Anthundorme: I demand a recount!

Pinn: Very well. Nathang – count those twenty pieces of paper. How many are there?

[Furious sounds of paper being shuffled]

Nathang: One hundred and thirty-seven.

Pinn: Statistically close enough.

Anthundorme: Drat! Your logic is flawless! All right, what do I have to do?

Lillibelle: Open that door there, then go and have a chat to the nice dragon while Heynow sneaks around and gets the tinsel.

Anthundorme: Very well. [Opens door] After you.

Lillibelle: Why thank you. So polite.

[Lillibelle goes to the door. Immediately Anthundorme pushes her in and slams it shut behind her. Instantly blasts of fire, furious roaring and screaming are heard]

Evilmagic: That wasn’t very nice.

Anthundorme: The struggle for survival knows no bounds.

Pinn: Off you go Heynow. Heynow? Heynow?

Evilmagic: [peering round door] Wow, he’s already half way there.

[Everyone crowds round]

Nathang: I wonderz if he's gonna make it before Lill runs outta hit points.

Anthundorme: I’ll give you three to one.

Heynow: [pops into view behind everyone]. Hello!

[All jump]

Pinn: You get it?

Heynow: No this is some other tinsel I’ve got wrapped round me – course I got it!

Reenie: What about Lillibelle?

Anthundorme: Hey Nathang, I bet you can’t go in there and drag Lill out before the dragon toasts you both.

Nathang: Betz I can!

[Nathang rushes in, grabs Lillibelle and drags her out, then slams the door shut.]

Heynow: That was a bit risky.

Anthundorme: Not really. There was very little chance I’d get hurt.

Heynow: What about poor Nathang?

Anthundorme: There’s plenty MORE Dwarves where he came from.

Reenie: Lillibelle, you look…ashen.

Lillibelle: I had to feign death!

Anthundorme: You didn’t have to feign it by much from the looks of you.

Lillibelle: I’m going to do you, guardian!

Pinn: Now, now…let’s not quibble about who nearly died and who very nearly had them cruelly killed through their own selfishness and greed. The fact is we got the tinsel!

All: WOOT!

Lillibelle: Hai-Yah!

Anthundorme: Ow.


-- -- -- oo OO oo -- -- --


Act 3, Scene 1.
Immortal Souls kin house, East Bree homelands.
Poised at the top of a ramp in the garden is a dodgy looking sleigh and four Foroshel type reindeer, the whole covered in tatty tinsel. Most of the kin is gathered round expectantly. The mighty Quinn emerges through the front door wearing a red Santa Claus outfit. General laughter.


Quinniel: I feel a right nimrod in this camp gay outfit.

Knave: You ARE a right nimrod in that camp gay outfit!

Emy: LOL.

Lindrad: Don’t listen to them Quinn. You look great. Now come and sit on the sleigh.

Quinniel: Does this thing actually work?

Maladriell: Sure, permanent levitation spell on each of the reindeer and the sleigh. You’ll fly with the greatest of ease.

Quinniel: I’m more worried about crashing with the greatest of ease.

[Quinniel gingerly climbs onto the sleigh. Various kinfolk pile presents (basically the dregs of everything in their vaults) onto the back. Suddenly a single elf rushes out of nowhere and attacks!]

Rude-elf: ^%$! %^&$%! You %£$&! I’ll get you, you “%^”$!

Rulison: What?

[Rude-elf scores a hit on Quinniel for 2342 points of damage]
[You are stunned!]
[You are stunned!]
[You are stunned!]
[You are stunned!]
[You are stunned!]
[You are stunned!]


Rude-elf: ң$^ӣ ң$^%ӣ Suxors!

[You are stunned!]
[You are stunned!]
[You are stunned!]


Reenie: Its “Vicious expletive cursing!” – an area affect stun spell!

Rude-elf: “£$^”£ “£$^%”!

[Rude-elf scores a hit on Quinniel for 1549 points of damage]
[Rude-elf scores a hit on Quinniel for 976 points of damage]
[Rude-elf scores a hit on the sleigh for 342 points of damage]
[Rude-elf scores a hit on the sleigh for 1001 points of damage]
[You are stunned!]
[You are stunned!]
[You are stunned!]
[You are stunned!]


Lindrad: He’s trying to wreck the sleigh!

Swnoic: Our good sleigh!

Quinniel: Never mind that! He’s trying to wreck me!

[Rude-elf scores a hit on Quinniel for 1439 points of damage]
[Rude-elf scores a hit on the sleigh for 342 points of damage]
[Thoormn scores a hit on Rude-elf for 542 points of damage]
[You are stunned!]
[You are stunned!]
[You are stunned!]


Sallyh: Save the pies!

[Rude-elf scores a hit on Quinniel for 746 points of damage]
[Rude-elf scores a hit on the sleigh for 112 points of damage]
[Thoormn scores a hit on Rude-elf for 577 points of damage]
[Rude-elf scores a hit on Thoormn for 1226 points of damage]
[Rude-elf scores a hit on the sleigh for 77 points of damage]
[Lindrad scores a hit on Rude-elf for 811 points of damage]
[Rude-elf scores a hit on Nathang for 888 points of damage]
[Rude-elf scores a hit on Reenie for 666 points of damage]
[Nathang scores a hit on Rude-elf for ....]


Reenie: What happened?

Lindrad: I switched from combat to general. Battles are really boring when you write them down.

Afkor: Enough!

[Afkor scores a critical hit on Rude-elf for 123,456 points of damage.]
[Rude-elf dies]


Rude-elf: £$^£$

Mozart: Wow! How did you do THAT?

Afkor: Magic sword with a “plot exposition” bane. This story is getting too long.

All: WOOT!

Ewmygriel: Hic!


-- -- -- oo OO oo -- -- --


Act 3, Scene 2.
Dunland, just outside the entrance to Gwantrev.
A long line of unsmiling young dunlendings are queued up by the kin sleigh.


Quinniel: Ho, ho, ho little boy. And what do you want for Christmas?

Dunlending child: Cut the roleplay and give me the damn present.

Quinniel: [struggling] Ho, ho, hah...I don’t think your mommy would like to hear you say that kind of thing to Santa.

Dunlending child: She wouldn’t care.

Quinniel: Why not?

Dunlending child: Because I killed her.

Quinniel: What?

Jorung: Perfectly normal behaviour for a young Dunlending.

Creah: In fact he sounds like a bit of a late developer.

Dunlending child: Hey what kind of junk is this?

Rulison: what do you mean?

Dunlending child: Well look at this dross sword. I mean come on! The stats suck! I suppose I could sell it in the market…might get some gimp to buy it for 10-15silver. With what I got begging I might have enough for some proper item.

Asuher: In game inflation is getting to be a real problem.

Anthundorme: You ungrateful snottie! I supplied them! In my day we were glad to have something like that when we were 30th level!

Dunlending child: Yeah? Well dinosaurs must have ruled Middle-Earth then.

Serelyn: Let me handle this. Listen you! This is a present. We’re giving it to you, and you are gonna be grateful, or I’ll stick that sword where the sun don’t shine. Sideways! Got it?

Dunlending child: Eek! Yes ma’am. Thank you ma’am. Please forgive me… [simper]

Serelyn: Make sure they all give you their “letters to Santa”. We need them for the hand in.

Dunlending children: Whimper, whine…

[Line moves ahead with astonishing speed.]


-- -- -- oo OO oo -- -- --


Act 3, Scene 3.
Immortal Souls Kin house, Bree homesteads.
Everyone is gathered waiting expectantly while Lindrad does the final hand in of “letters to Santa”.


Palasha: So, what’s the difference between a high elf and an ordinary elf?

Reenie: Height? You know, as in altitude?

Merlputter: Attitude more like.

Thoormn: Lindrush has been gone too long.

Emy: It’s just because he’s trying to get a double reward.

Pinn: Tying the hand-in to a piece of string is NOT going to work.

[Enter Lindrad]

Lindrad: Hola! I got it!

[General excitement]

Lindrad: One hundred bottles of “Christmas cheer”.

[Lindrad links what looks like water flasks. The excitement dies]

Nanuil: They really ARE going to have to do some more graphics.

Lindrad: Never mind what it looks like! Feel the stats!

[Lindrad distributes one bottle to each member in turn]

Khirul: Wow.

Mozart: +80K mitigation!

Quenyarina: Triple duration superspeed!

Ewmygriel: x10 alcohol tolerance!

Linverion: That’s the best resistance to cold I’ve ever seen…

Swnoic: And look at the regen!

Reenie: I might never have to do any healing again with this!

Thoormn: This “Christmas cheer” really is the best.

Ewmygriel: Hic! I’ll drink to that.

All: NO!

Quinniel: Ho, Ho, Ho!


-- -- -- oo OO oo -- -- --




The END




Fast curtain, no refunds.
This is a work of fiction, and resemblance to any person, alive or dead, is completely intentional.


(Pinn edit: moved from forums - go here to leave comments)