D&D Arena: Brutal Bastards, Beegraks and von Brandt

1 Die Roll Vile villainous villainy

As the statue returns to its goop form, Beegraks prepares to end its goopy reign of goopness. There is a limit to the amount of gelatine the dagonborn can digest in a day, and he went past that limit back when Cyrus decided to bath in it. This ball of goo is just reminding him of the sickness he's been feeling since, and it's about time it quit that.

Perhaps this flail could be of use in helping Boxy learn when to quit?

Divine Challenge on Boxy
And now the Villainous Strike

Yet again, the dragonborn strikes out. But then, does anyone really expect him to hit anything anymore?



FELIPE NO

2 Dice Rolls *Crit your pants

Cyrus crouches down beside the mimic for a little heart-to-heart.

"Listen, lil' buddy. You're in the way. Now, you've got your own life and your own goals. I understand that. But I'm the protagonist. Surely you can see that. I have a unique appearance, whereas you look exactly like your dead friend there. I know this is a lot to deal with, but you're obviously just chattel to slow us down on our route to — well, I don't know. Me, I'm mostly seeking ale and whores. And Beegraks, well, he seeks... scaly whores. And possibly scaly ale. You know how it gets when you've left a pint out on the table for a week or two while you're out on business, and when you come back there's this stink and this foul crusty stuff is growing on top? That's scaly ale. The dragonborn view it as a delicacy. I made all that up just now, but who are you to contradict me? You're just a squishy thing that pretends to be a box. What do you know? All you can do is try to hug people with your face, and you're shit-poor at that. Scuttle off and die now, there's a lad."

And with that, the box completely died immediately, for reals.

Eyebite Boxy (as Melee, Blade Channeling)
CRIT! 26 damage.

What, you don't want my bikini-clad body?

3 Dice Rolls Von Brandt still oily?

Cyrus leans closer for a tete-a-tete with the doomed mimic, presenting his handsome face as an enticing target to the bloodied Boxy Brown. It is happy to oblige, though its attack is brushed away by the slick oil still covering the sorcerer's face. The attempt brushes away quite a bit of the slick, but the protective goo still covers the half-elf somewhat.

After Cyrus' Turn: DC to shake off being covered in oil reduced to normal. A (voluntary) saving throw of 10+ will end it.

Sequence of Events:

Searing Sands: 23 damage to Beegraks; Cyrus concealed from him
---- ROUND FIVE ----
Ravening Maw vs Beegraks: 18 damage; slowed (save ends)
Eyebite vs Boxy: 26 damage; Cyrus concealed from it

Boxy Brown, Beegraks, Von Brandt (oily), ROUND 7 (as if)

Cyrus von Brandt: 12/59 (4/7 surges) - +1 Token x2
Smothas Beegraks: 42/78 (11/13 surges) - +1 Tokens x7

Jam it back in, in the dark.

1 Die Roll Last, final slam

Boxy is touched by the speech. Taking a lot of it to heart, he finds himself unwilling to put much effort into his chomp time.

Slam vs Dragonborn. Miss

Disheartened, he transforms one last time.



There's nowhere I can't reach.

2 Dice Rolls *KA-boom

Beegraks finally comes to a stop after spinning like a wild man from his last flail swing, and he barely takes time to stabilise himself before starting up another one. Thank Zehir for that dragonborn low-center of gravity, and for Beegraks' unusually dense skull.

Renew Challenge
Villainous spinning strike
13 damage to Boxy (before DR)

That first turn must have given Beegraks extra velocity, because this time Boxy doesn't have the necessary reaction time to get out of the way.



This thing is sticky, and I don't like it. I don't appreciate it.

2 Dice Rolls my old nemesis! A BOX!

"Box, you are a fool to resist my command. Now you will suffer the eternal torments that my magecraft can bring to bear! STEEL YOURSELF FOOL, FOR I SHALL —"

And then Cyrus punched the mimic. Baffo.

"HOW'S THIS? HOW DO YOU LIkE IT LIKE THIS?"

Ensorcelled Blade
15 damage
Die already dang

I am a dolphin, do you want me on your body?

Cyrus' mighty punch sends Boxy Brown reeling -- it slams against the wall lever with a splut. Its goopy remains slowly dribble into the ground.

Who knew that a couple of boxes would prove to be so damaging? Indeed, with Beegraks still poisoned by his meal, the odds of our evil protagonists surviving the day grow ever slimmer.

Victory!

Enforced Short Rest. Do whatever you want.

Row O is the last unexplored passage.

I was speaking idiomatically.

Finally the blobs have subsided. as he slowly starts walking back down the hall towards the final possible exit from this hall of blobs and bones, Smothas' feels somewhat refreshed and ready to go back in action, although his nausea still hasn't subsided.

"Let's just hope the magic man's magic-rock-smoking-inspired insanity is gone."

The dragonborn thinks to himself. If only he were so lucky. Then again, Beegraks is starting to feel a bit wacky himself. It might be the mix of nausea and the confined space that are getting to him, or it just might be that his attention span isn't that great to begin with.

Use one surge to recoop a bit
Pull lever at U3 (that is, if we haven't done that yet)
Observe effects
Walk over to O3 and peek down the hall



What kind of toxic man-thing is happening now?

After taking a breather, Beegraks tromps over to the last unpulled lever. Leave no levers unpulled, or so goes his motto.

But not so fast. He sees some writing etched in the wall right next to the lever. It reads:

EMERGENCY SKELETON TRAP DEACTIVATOR

The dragonborn pauses at this, pondering whether he should still pull it or not.

FELIPE NO

His hand's on the lever, folks. You know what's coming...

"Oh what's this? EMU... LEMER.....
EMERGENT!
Yes that's right. Now on to the next on... SCALE... SKALAKON...
SKANK!
Hum... TRA... RAT... RAMP...
RAP?
One more huh... and it's a big one too...
...
...
Wait, I've seen this one before! It's REPLICATOR!
...
..
So... this... is... an... EMERGENT SKANK RAP REPLICATOR?..."

Now here's a pickle. Beegraks, knows what most of these words mean seperately... but together they seem to suggest something that he's not sure he wants to see materialized. He recalls the one time he'd seen a skank rap and he's not sure he wants more of it. He could go for a bit of the female type companionship, and it wouldn't be the first time he ripped out vocal chords to shut a bitch up.

All this thinking is starting to hurt Beegraks' head, and there hasn't been enough lever pulling going on since the goo balls interrupted the duo's last session.

Most definitely pulls that lever



Most amazing jew boots

2 Dice Rolls *Damage:2d6+7

Beegraks was like Oooh a leeeever that replicates emergent skank rappers and he pulls the lever and a huge boulder suddenly appears! And it quickly goes towards the Beegraks!

YouTube Video

Beegraks was too slow! And he got squashed by the rock! And the rock hit him and squashed him and knock him to the ground and went on rolling! And it hit the wall with a big CRASH and then the rock broken and it dead!

13 damage to Beegraks. Prone (but really it doesn't matter here).

Jam it back in, in the dark.

well, that certainly wasn't what the dragonborn expected, but after all the lever pulling he's done today, he really isn't too surprised at what just happened.

He takes a moment to lick his wounds before standing up.

use another Healing surge
get up stand up



There's nowhere I can't reach.

Beegraks quickly recovers from rocksquash, and struts over to the last unexplored passage. He is greeted by a slab of rock that has somehow opened inwards (thanks, unbeknownst to him or his partner, to their synchronous lever-pulling shenanigans.) The new room, illuminated in a more unnatural hue of blue, continues to the left and the right.

This thing is sticky, and I don't like it. I don't appreciate it.

"A BLUE THING? I DEMAND TO CONTROL IT, BECAUSE — I'm a selfish ass, let me through."

Wear (either) mimic as a hat
Reapply oil to self
Charge into new room at top speed
Deliberately pratfall; engage Slip 'n Slide Mode
Pull any levers found there, one after another, with no regard

I am a dolphin, do you want me on your body?

The still-bloodied sorcerer takes a dabbing of Chesty Larue's goopy corpse and rubs it all over his hair. He then reapplies his coat of oil, and rushes full-tilt into the room Beegraks glimpsed. The overenthusiastic half-elf slams uncontrollably into the marbly masonry of the passage wall with a loud thud.

Cyrus picks himself up as his impact reverberates throughout this... underground labyrinth? tomb? temple? - the roof was much higher than the cave he was in. They can't be above ground, after all. It's not possible at all.

He looks around for any levers to pull - there was none in sight. A set of ascending stairs to the left connect to the corridor Cyrus is currently in, but the path is blocked by a stone wall.

This wall contrasts considerably with the surrounding marble paneling, and reaches all of forty feet into the ceiling. An enchantment covers the otherwise mundane-looking wall - the arcane practitioner could feel the faint traces of magic calling to him.

To his right, the passage continues on a downward slope, branching off to the right some seventy feet away. A plain wooden chest lies at the corner. It looks similar to the wooden chest he's caught sight of in the cave a few minutes back, but never bothered to open.

I was speaking idiomatically.

Since the magic man seems set on taking all of Beegraks' lever pulling fun away, and since he does run a lot faster than the bulky paladin, Beegraks decides to go back and open the chest that he suddenly remembers having laid eyes upon but not opening because of Cyrus' sudden brush in with a ball of bones.

Go and open chest at M6



What kind of toxic man-thing is happening now?

Beegraks opens a chest! He finds something strange inside: a horrible looking mask that strikes fear into even him.



A couple of parchment scraps line the bottom of the chest. They look identical to the ones from the vase that the Dragonborn pocketed earlier.

Most amazing jew boots

Looking into the chest, Beegraks gets an idea that is a bit more brilliant than his usual fare. First stuffing the scraps of paper into his bag with the ones he had picked up before, and he then dons the Skull Mask before enacting the next part of his plan.

Equip Skull Mask
Sneak up on Cyrus
Peek-a-boo!



What, you don't want my bikini-clad body?

Cyrus stumbles to his feet, woozy from the collision. "Beegraks, take care! Your bones are attempting to escape, just as mine did! Even now, your skull is protruding from your face. Shove it back in, man! SHOVE IT BACK IN!"

Despite his alarm, von Brandt was suddenly suspicious of the dragonborn. Though his skull was clearly rebelling, it was obviously a human-like skull. Could Beegraks' claim of being dragonborn be a mere ruse? Perhaps this was another of the arena's hated doppelgangers, sent to stop his mission to rescue himself. He'd have to keep his eye on the paladin. Still, if it were true, it meant the fiends were truly careless; they'd failed to even ward their own servants against their diabolical skeleton curse.

Such new dangers required a new caution. Hacking away at the empty chest, Cyrus painstakingly pulls away the lid. Strapping it to his arm with a length of rope, Cyrus makes for himself a poor-quality buckler. One cannot be too heavily armored in such grim situations.

Thus girded, he peers down the corridor to the east of the chest.



Jam it back in, in the dark.

1 Die Roll Makeshift Shield

Beegraks gleefully dons his new toy, carefully putting away his helm of opportunity in his pack. Unfortunately, Cyrus would prove harder to scare than he hoped.

Still, one can't be too careful in a dungeon where your bones would leap out of your body at the slightest provocation. The sorcerer fashions himself a makeshift shield, and soldiers on deeper into the maze. A flimsy wooden lid will not last too long in combat, but every little bit helps.

+1 bonus to AC. Shatters after absorbing 1 attack vs. AC.

The Half-Elf cautiously peeks around the corner, adrenaline surging through his evil veins (and spurting out through his open wounds). An inanimate suit of armor, standing a fair distance away, stares right back at him. The path forks in two directions, on either side of the armor. Bright yellow light shines out of the turn at Cyrus' right side.

There's nowhere I can't reach.

"Oh hey Magic Man, I think maybe we should look at this, could be important. You seem to know a bit more about this hocus-pocus stuff than I do, maybe you can figure it out."

The dragonborn says as he takes out the parchment scraps and tries to put them into the correct order. What does it all mean?



This thing is sticky, and I don't like it. I don't appreciate it.

1 Die Roll Arcanarama

Cyrus stares at the scraps. He frowns. He rubs his chin for a moment. He shuffles the scraps around a bit (wiping the oil from his hands onto his trousers first). He grimaces, and his brow is wracked by mighty ideas.

"Do you think—", he begins, and cuts himself off, lost in thought. "Maybe they're bingo chits. We just have to find the bingo hall, friend. And a hat to draw the chits from. Well, a clean hat. Mine won't do at all. And also we will need 10-25 pensioners from which to collect entry fees. And then — then, dear Beegraks! We shall profit by it."

Arcana Check on the scraps. Doubt Cyrus learned anything, though.

Putting the scraps aside for a moment, Cyrus hurries over to the suit of armor. Tossing aside his dead mimic chapeau, he seizes the helmet from atop the armor and plonks it upon his own head.

"You see? Providence has already granted us the fine headgear we required. Surely we're on the right track!"



I am a dolphin, do you want me on your body?

Cyrus examines the scraps his erstwhile partner handed to him. There isn't anything magical about them. They appear to contain instructions of some kind, but there doesn't seem to be enough pieces to fit into a coherent whole yet. Well over half appear missing.

But more importantly, Von Brandt espies a promising new set of headgear. Rushing over to the suit of armor, he pulls off the helm with great difficulty. It's certainly well-made, to say the least.



The passage branching to the left is blocked by a barred double door. A pouch is fixed beneath a sign nailed to one of the doors. The sign reads:

To proceed, make offering.

From his vantage point, Cyrus sees a gold and a silver chest on the right branch of the passage. A torch affixed low on the passage wall provides much brighter illumination than the high-mounted everburners in previous corridors.

I was speaking idiomatically.

As he gathers up the scraps again, Beegraks heads to the chest he passed to join up with Cyrus and inspects it thoroughly before opening it.

What kind of toxic man-thing is happening now?

Beegraks opens another chest. What did he find inside?

Spoiler:

Just a few scraps of parchment, some with writing on them.

There's also two large metal keys. Boy, what a rip-off.

FELIPE NO