[DnD] Welcome to the Dungeon of Doom!

The maceman's neck snaps on impact, and his head lolls to the side as he slumps lifelessly to the floor.

Critical Hit, 13 damage. Human maceman killed.

Motsognir tries his hand against the wolf, and meets with better luck than most. Fur flies as the warlord separates the animal from a major chunk of its hindquarters.

15 damage, wolf bloodied.

New round: Bob 25, Halfling 23, Motsognir 19, Wolf 17, Fescue 16, Dwarf 15, Gabriel 15, Argumentus 9



How ya doing, buddy?

Totally devastated by your ice burn, the halfling woman promptly loses all will to live, collapsing face-first onto the carpet.

8 damage, halfling killed

What kind of toxic man-thing is happening now?

Motsognir's axe slices the wolf right down the middle, putting a stop to all that irritating barking.

9 damage, wolf killed

How ya doing, buddy?

The airborne mace whirls beautifully through the dusty dungeon air, twirling merrily on its way. Gently, it taps the desperate old dwarf atop his head, and then clatters to the floor. The old bastard takes a long, deep breath and mercifully collapses.

SUPREME VICTORY. Party gains 750 XP (150 XP each)

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

On the bodies:

Warhammer (1)
Two-Handed Crossbow (1)
Crossbow Bolts (13)
Chainmail armor (1)
Longsword (1)
Shortsword (1)
Leather armor (2)
Set of thieves tools (1)
Dagger (2)
Shuriken (6)
Mace (1)

Dwarven Chainmail (Card)

On the throne:

A length of copper tubing lies upon the cushions, ignored by the room's most recent occupants as seemingly worthless. A closer examination, however, reveals the faint hum of magic. (Card)


The interval of quiet also allows Fescue to determine the properties of his recently-acquired cloak. (Card)

Distribute these goods amongst yourselves at your own discretion.

Jam it back in, in the dark.

The cage contains nothing more than what you might expect to find in the typical dwelling of a ferocious hunting lizard:

Several gnawed-on bones, most of them roughly humanoid. A massive femur still has a little meat on it — a bone this size must have belonged to an ogre.

A studded leather collar, engraved with the name "Muffin"

Listening at the stone door on the east wall is unrewarding. Even with sharp dwarven ears, there is nothing to hear beyond the door save the distant drip of water on stone.

There's nowhere I can't reach.

The stone slab lacks any kind of apparent handle or knob, and pushing on it is ineffectual.

Etched into the stone is a message in Dwarven script:

While the king sits not upon his throne in all his finery, the vault shall not be opened.

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

The battered throne is raised upon a pedestal perhaps 6 inches higher than the rest of the floor. Small pictographs are etched on each of the pedestal's four sides: a crown, a mantle, a scepter, and a book. The image of the scepter glows faintly, but the rest are dim.

Tucked beneath the throne, you find a small corked vial filled with a sparkling blue fluid.

Also, Scary Bob is sitting in the throne and producing the most godawful music.

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

A whiff of the little vial produces the telltale camphor stink of strong medicine.

I'll go ahead and give the room description again since it may have been buried in the fight.

A once-majestic throne dominates this room, through the jewels are missing and the cushions have long rotted away. The room is dotted with small worktables and bedrolls of various sizes. A rusty cage lies open on the east wall, next to a door of solid stone. A huge cabinet sits on the south wall, its doors sealed with a flimsy padlock designed less for security than for empty peace-of-mind.

I was speaking idiomatically.

Motsognir hacks the cabinet doors open, and a torrent of tomes pours out onto the floor.


Any Port in a Storm: The Life of Mongo The Frail
Captain's Logbook: HMS Fandango
Inventory of the Royal Armory
Tales from the Green Goose Inn
Bawdy Houses of the East: A Traveler's Guide
Trephination and Its Uses
History of Hammerfall
Household Guide to Lycanthropes
Moradin's Favorite Battle Hymns
When Jellies Doth Ooze: An Autobiography
Chicken Soup for the Dwarven Soul
Things I Found In The Gutter
How to Talk to an Eladrin (If You Must)
Diary of Melvin Fancylad
On The Movements of the Heavens
Procedures of Efficient Dragonslaying, Vol. 3
We're Hitting People: Love and War Amongst the Orcs
Encyclopaedia Khazadia: GU - HR
Household Hints from Hulfdag
Gypsies, and Why We Must Exterminate Them
Index of Edible Things
Secrets of the Yub-Yub Brotherhood

What kind of toxic man-thing is happening now?

The engraved symbol of the crown flickers alight as Bob puts the crown upon his head.

FELIPE NO

One by one, the various volumes batter Scary Bob about the face and neck before bouncing to the floor. Nearing the bottom of the heap, Motsognir flings the History of Hammerfall at the irritated elf. Mere inches from Bob's face, the tome stops in mid-air — hovering for a moment before dropping heavily into his lap.

Only the symbol of the mantle remains dormant.

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

As the billowing cape is stuffed into the throne next to the wizard, all 4 of the runes suddenly flash brightly, then go dim. A deafening grinding noise is produced from the vicinity of the east doorway, and chunks of ancient rubble begin to fall from the ceiling. The stone slab rattles up and down — its mechanism attempts to pull it into a recess beneath, but something has blocked the way. At long last a great CRACK! emits from the floor beneath, and the slab teeters back and forth before slamming into the room with an earthshaking thump.

Beyond the open but dust-choked doorway lies a 20-foot passage terminating in a dead end, with the a large trapdoor set into the floor.



Incredibly minor puzzle solved after much deliberation: 250 XP (50 apiece)

Jam it back in, in the dark.

An iron pry bar is half-suspended over the open shaft, with the hooked end wedged between the flagstones to keep the bar from falling (or being driven) into the shaft. Judging by its condition, the pry bar is a very recent addition to the otherwise dilapidated door mechanism.

There's nowhere I can't reach.

As Gabriel traverses the short hallway, the floor suddenly gives way beneath him. The paladin's weight smashes the light timbers holding up a scattering of loose flagstones, and he plummets 15 feet into a pit. Sheer providence allows him to crash into the panoply of rusty blades at the bottom without hurting much beyond his pride.

1 damage, consarn it

Meanwhile, the fighter's deep study of various obscure edibles has led him to a limited understanding of basic foraging.

Argumentus gains +1 to Dungeoneering

How ya doing, buddy?

Gabriel finds nothing but more ruined armaments in the brief time he has to search before Argumentus abruptly hauls him up.

Scary Bob's mage hand easily flips open the swinging doors of the hatch. As the doors fly open, they release a gust of cool, moist air and admit a flickering light from below.

Giving the throne room a last thorough once-over, Bob discovers no additional exits but does discover a small sack of marbles tucked in the end of a bedroll.

How ya doing, buddy?

Taking another look at the rubbish-strewn pit, Gabriel confirms — yup, nothing worthwhile.

Moving over to the open trapdoor, the paladin takes a peek down the hatch. A piton is driven into the floor just under the swinging doors. A chain, secured by this piton, dangles down a wide stone shaft for roughly 30 feet until terminating into a heap on a rose marble floor. Surrounding the piled-up length of chain is a rough circle of stone. The room below is well-lit.

I was speaking idiomatically.

Fescue rappels down the chain, descending carefully into the circle of stone below. He sets down in a 25 foot square chamber with an iron door in the center of each of the four walls. Each door is framed by two flickering torches, accounting for the room's excellent lighting. The stone circle itself is the remains of some decent masonry: this ruin was part of a well or parapet once and seems out-of-place in the otherwise pristine chamber.

Moments after Fescue steps away from the chain to take a look around, a startled shout comes from above. The shout is followed almost immediately by the sight of Gabriel teetering at the edge of the shaft, then plummeting downward. His collision with the floor is marked once again by a notable lack of significant lethality.

4 damage



What kind of toxic man-thing is happening now?

Argumentus safely descends the chain, but Motsognir loses his grip near the bottom, falling 10 feet.

5 damage

Gabriel searches the room while soothing his dignity, but there isn't much to find. Aside from the stone circle the floor is utterly bare. An examination of the doors reveals little plaques on each, etched in a script none of you recognize.

The paladin can faintly detect the hateful influence of Bane in the vicinity, but this may only be due to the little idol the thief's been carrying around. Beyond that, he hears an intermittent skittering sound nearby, but can't quite determine the direction it comes from.

Gabriel's HP 29/6
Motsognir's HP 17/7

FELIPE NO

Knocking on the door produces no reaction.

Motsognir: 23/6

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

The unlocked door pops open effortlessly, revealing a closet bare of any goods save a large lever set into the floor. It's roughly waist-high (on a human) and currently orientated to the west.



Jam it back in, in the dark.

Argumentus flips the lever to the eastward setting, and panels above the nearest torches creak open to spill a cache of oil upon them. The area in front of the doorway instantly blossoms into a wall of flame, singeing Fescue even as he stumbles back.

Even worse, no puppies!

Fescue: 11/6 (bloodied)



There's nowhere I can't reach.

Upon finishing the ritual, Bob is able to read the plaques on three of the doors; the western door's message is rendered inaccessible by a wall of fire.

The northern door reads: Beware, not all the doors are honest. Both the east and south doors will lead to doom, unless the west door does.

The eastern door reads: Beware, not all the doors are honest. The warnings of the south door are true, unless the northern door is safe.

The southern door reads: Beware, not all the doors are honest. Both the east and the west doors will lead to doom, unless the south does.

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

The southern door is pulled open, and a great rumbling sounds from deep within the walls. The doorway opens onto a steeply ascending ramp, via which a large boulder is rapidly descending onto the party.

Both Scary Bob and Motsognir are in the boulder's direct path, but their reflexes allow them to dodge out of the way. The boulder smashes to a halt against the northern door.

The wind of the boulder's passing snuffs out the fire.

Fescue's HP 23/4

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

Beware, not all of the doors are honest. The north door speaks the truth, unless it is the safest door.

I think we can safely assume Shin would acquiesce to reading it, let's keep it rolling

I was speaking idiomatically.