[DnD] Welcome to the Dungeon of Doom!

The crates are heavy, but with effort they could probably be pushed around the room. The statues, however, are set into huge pedestals and are likely well beyond anyone's ability to budge.

There's a lever set into the northeast corner.

Bright lighting.

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

Fescue pulls the lever.

It goes "thump".

Nothing else happens!

Jam it back in, in the dark.

The crates are full of nothing but rocks.

After some experimentation, Fescue eventually places all the crates in their correct positions and pulls the lever again. The furthest statue slides away from the hole in the floor, revealing a steeply sloping tunnel leading down into darkness.

500 XP. It's a trial-and-error thing that you were going to figure out eventually so why belabor it, I guess. In retrospect Sokoban doesn't even work in a system with diagonal movement.

M

There's nowhere I can't reach.

The uneasy companions settle at last into another long night below the earth. Their wounds heal nicely, and thanks to the plentiful crab meat they have no need to dip into their limited trail rations. Gabriel manages at last to shake off the wearying effects of his fever, and returns to his full strength for the first time since he pried the rat's teeth out of his forearm.

While there is no further sign of the curious kobold, he has surely told of what he has seen to his masters below. Thanks to Bob's decision to use the message system as a chamberpot, it's unlikely a friendly reception will be waiting.

There is no way forward but to go ever further into the depths, and greater dangers surely lie ahead. But there is an inescapable sense that these tests of mettle will soon temper this motley crew into something greater.

Renew all HP/surges/powers. Individual XP is 935.

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

Bob carefully searches the crate room for any lurking valuables. Tucked under some rags in the corner, he finds two corked glass vials strapped together with twine. One of them is full of what looks to be ordinary water, and the other contains a quantity of silvery-white metal.

The glass is very thin indeed; it's almost as if these vials were intended to break at the slightest provocation.

How ya doing, buddy?

The tunnel is steep enough that you cannot see the bottom, but everything that's visible appears to be clear of any hazards.

I was speaking idiomatically.

Bob edges down the narrow tunnel, alert for any danger. After a minute or two of crawling, the sloping tunnel opens suddenly into a sheer drop. Hesitating at the edge, Bob looks down to see the face of a kobold looking up at him.

The kobold is bent and withered with age; a rare commodity for its kind. It looks Bob over with a critical eye, then dons tiny spectacles from a pocket in a tattered cloak and speaks in a slow and unaccented Common.

"We have been watching you and your friends, Manslayer. We have no wish to fight you. I have talked with the others and I think we may have some common goals. Come down, and we will see the chieftain about—"

In the distance, a loud THUMP. Then again, and again, as the sound of splintering wood starts to accompany it.

A younger kobold appears next to the elder. The kobolds exchange a few alarmed remarks in their barking tongue, and the cloaked kobold's tiny fists clench. He looks back up at Bob.

"I must go to aid in the defense of the gates. We will tell you of our proposition afterward, should I survive."

He hurries off, and Bob is left staring down at the mound of dirt below.

What kind of toxic man-thing is happening now?

Argumentus and the elf tumble out of the tunnel and into the kobold warren, their fall broken by a pile of loose earth just beneath. Beyond the open doorway, kobolds with spears and slings scramble back and forth in the hall.

With one great and final splintering, the rhythmic thumps cease, giving way to the unmistakable sounds of a pitched battle being gradually driven in the party's direction.

M

FELIPE NO

Motsognir slips down the tunnel, while Argumentus charges into the corridor with Bob at his heels. Kobolds of all ages are hurrying to and fro, but the halls are wide enough that you do not obstruct them (or they you).

Treat the kobolds as friendly; you can move through spaces they occupy.

The corridor splits east and west, though both routes turn toward the north again.

M

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

Bob steps around the east corner. This hall leads directly into an open room where a heavily-muscled kobold is hammering away at an anvil. A charcoal brazier nearly as large as the kobold lies just behind him, and a dry heat pours from the room.

A few feet ahead of Bob, the corridor also branches off to the east. A nervous-looking kobold with a spear and a keyring stands in the intersection, glancing down the east corridor every few seconds.

The blacksmith and the guard appear to be the only residents not fleeing northward toward the ruckus. The halls are beginning to empty, and a peculiar flapping sound joins the overall clamor.

Argumentus accosts a passing kobold and inquires about finding the battle. The little creature looks terrified of the huge fighter and gesticulates wildly, pointing in several directions in succession; west, then east, north, then east again. The he flees.

Jam it back in, in the dark.

Bob steps into the intersection with the nervous kobold. To the north lies the busy blacksmith, banging away on a battle-axe much too large for his size. To the east is a brief corridor leading to an iron-barred gate. Behind the bars, a hulking lizardman stomps about in a crude prison cell.

The reptilian man-monster is easily twice as big as Argumentus in the midst of a crab binge, and seems more than capable of tearing any of the kobolds in half.

"Stay away from the prisoner!" barks the guard. "Very dangerous!" He takes a step toward the gate, protectively.

The smithy is scattered with the blacksmith's tools of trade, and half-finished weapons lie here and there. He finishes hammering on the axe blade, and places it in a nearby bucket with a set of tongs. He wipes his brow and looks up from his work, noticing Bob at last.

"You there, tall and useless. If you're not going to kill anything, at least take some gear to the gates." He sizes Bob up and sighs, then grabs a finished axe from a bench and dumps it into Bob's arms. The wooden axe handle is inscribed with many tiny runes, and the weapon feels much lighter than it rightfully should be.

"I'm sure you can find somebody to take it off your hands. Now get out of my sight, I've got a work order a mile long."

The smith turns back to his work, once again ignoring Bob.

M

There's nowhere I can't reach.

Taking the west fork down a brief corridor, Argumentus finds himself in a makeshift kitchen. Half-finished meals lie where the embattled kobolds abandoned them, and a roast... something is still suspended on a cooking spit over a fire. Unattended, the roast beast has begun to blacken badly on its underside. The smell of meat, unfortunately, attracts other visitors.

Three leathery creatures with multiple wings and elongated probosces flap into the room, resemblant of some foul cross between a bat and a mosquito. Initially they begin to settle on an uncooked side of meat lying idle on a table, but Argumentus, covered in blood and significantly more odorous, is a much more tempting meal. They swoop toward him.

Horrible Things 20, Argumentus 12

The first of the creatures misses its mark, smashing its face into Argumentus' armor. The other two find vulnerable flesh and sink their needles in, drawing the precious blood from Argumentus' body.

5 damage, Argumentus is Grabbed.

Oblivious to the swarm assaulting the human, Bob attempts to move further north through the smithy. But there's no way to do that! There's only a wall there. How awkward.

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

I'm not sure if Zeph got his connection up yet, so I'll cover for him until he shows

Fescue finally descends to join the party, fashionably late. He realizes at once from the noise that he's got himself into another unpleasant situation.

Bob turns back to the fork in the route, seeking to rejoin the party. He reaches the intersection and realizes Argumentus is nowhere in sight. The sounds of violence are now only a few yards to the northwest.

The little monsters continue to drain Argumentus' blood even as he thrashes away at them.

10 damage, Argumentus 18/15

Cleave (Warhammer) 15 + 7 (hit): 8 damage; cleave for 4 damage

Though it's something awkward to strike at creatures while they're attached to you, Argumentus deals the bloodsucking freaks a ringing blow.

Gritting his teeth, Argumentus grabs hold of the monsters' feeding tubes and rips them from his flesh. While the beasts are discombobulated he takes a step back out of the room, roaring in pain.

Gabriel 23, Fescue 18, Critters 15, Argumentus 8, Bob 6, Motsognir 5

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

Gabriel camps the hallway, readying himself for the mysterious threat.

Fescue moves around the corner with his crossbow, ready to fire on the first hostile thing to come into sight.

One of the creatures lunges directly into Argumenus, latching onto him once more.

1 damage, grabbed

The second beast rounds the corner in search of easier prey. Fescue plugs it with a bolt as it comes into sight.

6 damage

The creature's flight still carries in into the the thief, and it has little difficulty puncturing though the gaps in his leathers.

1 damage, grabbed

The third latches onto Argumentus as well. If only he didn't smell so sanguinely delicious!

2 damage, grabbed... even more?

Argumentus 15/15, Fescue 25/8

Argumentus at bat

M

I was speaking idiomatically.

The creatures latched onto Argumentus draw out his precious blood, all full of important vitamins and minerals.

10 damage

Argumentus hews about him, smashing at the vile monsters but failing to free himself.

12 damage, then 14 damage

Argumentus 5/15

Bob wills a whirling cloud of knives into being all around the nearest foe. While it doesn't cause significant damage, the barrier may at least slow down the flapping horrors.

4 damage

Motsognir at bat

What kind of toxic man-thing is happening now?

A kobold's barking shout rises from the north. "The gate is shattered! Fall back to defend the nursery!"

The kobold warrens are quickly being overrun. Two goblins, spears at the ready, charge into the kitchen. Catching sight of Argumentus struggling with the stirges, they hang back, not wishing to be stung themselves.

Fescue 18, Bob 18, Stirges 17, Argumentus 14, Motsognir 8, Gabriel 5

The stirge begins to drain blood from Fescue.

5 damage, Fescue 20/8

Drawing his dagger, Fescue thrusts the blade into the stirge's skull. It dies instantly, and Fescue wrenches its proboscis from his arm.

Piercing Strike. 9 damage, stirge killed

Bob at bat.

M

How ya doing, buddy?

Bob's cloud of daggers dissipates as he engages in some impromptu aerobics.

The remaining stirges continue to clutch Argumentus, making no further offensive action. They drain so much of his blood that he passes out.

Argumentus is prone, unconscious, and dying. -5 HP. First save vs. death failed.

Motsognir at bat.

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

Charging into the fray, Motsognir flails at the stirges but fails to wound them. Making the best of it, he reaches around the corner and hurriedly tends to the worst of Argumentus' open wounds.

Argumentus stabilized. Gabriel at bat. (not that he appears to have a lot of options, but you can always Ready or Delay)

M

Jam it back in, in the dark.

Peering around the corner, Gabriel flings his throwing hammer at the stirge — but misses.

Stirges 27, Bob 26, Gabriel 18, Fescue 16, Goblin Warriors 16, Motsognir 16, Argumentus 5

Having drained Argumentus of all he's worth, the stirges release him in search of richer targets. Motsognir is assailed immediately, but he manages to fend off the threat of exsanguination. The only other obvious target is one of the newly-arrived goblins, but she also manages to avoid impalement.

Bob at bat.

There's nowhere I can't reach.

Anyone who will actually take action rather than stall: at bat

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

Standing over the fallen fighter, Fescue rips the stirge apart with his dagger. Its blood-bloated carcass splatters wetly on the floor. This hallway... is clean.

And the way is clear for Gabe!

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

After much hesitation, Bob bolts down the hall and steps into the room's entrance. Brandishing his wand, he fires a bolt of ice at the invading goblins. It splatters harmlessly on the walls, and the stirge-embattled goblins scarcely seem to acknowledge it.

Ok, now it is in fact definitely Gabriel's turn. Probably. Pretty sure.

I was speaking idiomatically.

The ice had indeed splattered off the wall, but ricocheted directly into the goblin's ear, causing it no small amount of brain damage.

6 damage

Gabriel crawls between the rogue's legs and lays his hands all over the fighter.

Argumentus is restored to 4 HP. Bloodied and prone but awake.

The right goblin still struggles with the stirge, jabbing at it with her spear.

The left goblin charges directly for the insolent elf bitch who dared to give her a frozen wet willy, spearing Bob's arm.

4 damage

Soggy at bat.

M

What kind of toxic man-thing is happening now?

Motsognir's desire for chopping, unfortunately, does not result in any actual chopping being accomplished.

Argumentus at bat (he's underneath Fescue)

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In no particular hurry to get up, Argumentus continues playing dead while he tries to get his strength back.

Argumentus' HP 13 / Surges 14

The kobold's defenses shatter almost entirely. More goblins stream into the room, looking to cause any havoc they can.

New round: Bob 24, Gabriel 23, Goblins 21, Fescue 17, Argumentus 15, Stirge 13, Motsognir 3

Now with helpful labeling!

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