From: rigler@galileo.ifa.hawaii.edu (Michael Rigler)
Subject: [KQ] Thk [Factory]: Trapped in the cauldron!
Organization: Institute for Astronomy, Hawaii
Date: Wed, 2 Sep 1992 22:39:28 GMT

JOYSTIX FACTORY LEVEL 2:

The rope burns through, and Thk looks down (up?) in horror and revulsion
as he plunges headfirst into the giant black cauldron.  The last thing
he hears before his head strikes the surface of the boiling red-black
sludge, is the arrogant tittering of the mind flayer, Quruuminias.  He
braces himself, determined to survive, if only to get his claws on that
skinny cartilagenous neck.

* Plooop * Ker-plunk *  Despite the viscosity of the bubbling goo, which
is comparable to that of peanut butter, the bulky lizardman slips beneath
the surface and sinks to the bottom.  This stuff is worse than the deadly 
quicksand of his marsh homeland!  Thk twists around so his ample butt and
tail rest on the red hot bottom, and reaches down to snap the rope binding
his ankles, all the time thanking the Sea God, Sssuuthru, for protecting
him from the heat.  The mind flayer spoke of...what was it?...a "Fire 
Protection Ring."  Fah!  Thk needs no such artificial protection.  His
Faith and Holy Purpose will carry him through, Sssuthruu willing.

Thk holds his breath, calmly considering his options for a brief moment.  
Time is running out -- the chemicals are noxious, but fortunately not
intoxicating to his R-complex, as they would be for a mammal with a 
cerebrum.  In this environment, without his Trident, the Shaman cannot 
cast spells with verbal and material components.  [Thk makes a mental
note to obtain the whereabouts of the Trident from Quruuminias before
throttling.]  Fortunately, the mind flayer neglected to take his weapons.
If he draws his sword -- the sword of the Elvish Sea King -- then he 
can move freely through the goo up to the surface.  [He makes a mental
note to grant Q. a swift death for this oversight.]  But then, once at
the surface, he cannot cast a spell with a somatic component because he
has to hold the sword.  [Thk makes a mental note to prolong Q.'s death
after all.]

Blast it!!  All of the appropriate spells (lower water, destroy water...)
require a complex series of gestures and can be caste only if the hands
are free.  Thk starts to panic.  The noxious chemicals are starting to
seriously irritate the membranes of his gill slits and the lining of his
nostrils, ears and eyes.  And Thk has never had to hold his breath before..
His lungs are screaming with the need for oxygen --

He fumbles at the scabbard and draws the Elvish short sword free.  Inst-
antly, his body is coated with a layer of fine oily bubbles which permit
free movement through any viscuous medium.  His gills and mucous membranes
stop itching, but he still needs to breathe!  He stands up and leaps as 
high as possible --

* ploit *  His head breaks water!  "Hissssssss--"  * ploop *  Back under-
water.  He exhales and leaps again * ploit * "Hisssss---"  * ploop * And
the sense of panic drains from his system.

After a few more leaps, he gets his breath back enough to yell:

*ploit*  "Squid --   "  *ploop*
*ploit*  "-- Face !! "  *ploop*
*ploit*  "I will --  "  *ploop*
*ploit*  "ssuck your "  *ploop*
*ploit*  "brainss -- "  *ploop*
*ploit*  "--out for  "  *ploop*
*ploit*  " thisss!!!!"  *ploop*

Quruuminias hears the clipped voice booming out the mouth of the cauldron
and winces.  Threatening death by cerebral extraction is the WORST insult 
you can make to a mind flayer...

    \========C\                Rigler...
              \\ 
  <===========C ]==|[///////////////////]|==========|[////////////]D>
              //  
    /========C/                 ...Thk