[DnD] Welcome to the Dungeon of Doom!

My first sensation was a dull throbbing pain behind my eyeballs. I lay in the dark with my eyes closed for a while, trying to remember what tavern I'd ended up in last night and cursing my eternal fondness for Sumerian Deathschnappes. I could feel the cold stone beneath me and assumed that, as on so many other occassions I had fallen off whatever fetid mattress had been my bed for the night. Still, I pondered in the darkness, the performance by the troubadours last night had been exquisite, Ogre Suicide epitomised everything that was great about modern bardery, the clothes, the make up and oh the music. Such lute mastery was rare these days with so many wannabes clogging up the scene.

The sound of groaning snapped me out of my memories and brought my acute elvish senses into focus. Something was definitely wrong here. I opened my eyes and was greeted by the sight of a stone ceiling, lit by a flickering torch. Silently and slowly, I turned my head to better survey the room.

Ye Gods! It seemed as though I was in some kind of cell. At first I thought my carousing had maybe landed me foul of the law but this appeared to be no jail cell as reaching out with my fingers I found the reassuring shapes of my bow and staff. The groaning I could hear seemed to be coming from one of the four piles of filthy rags which littered the floor around me. No, not rags, they were bodies and fresh too from the smell of them. Panic gripped me as I remembered flashes of conversation from the concert, of how I had been trying to impress a gorgeous young she-elf with tales of my dark, sorcerous powers and magiks that could raise the very dead. What had I done! Had I finally succeeded in my life's quest?

Picking up my staff, I raised my fingers to the tip and uttered the cantrip "Illuminos". The words were unneccesary but years of impressing naive maidens with grandiose parlour tricks had made the words a reflex action.

The creature in the corner appeared to be a dwarf, and a particularly ugly specimin at that. It's gnarled, warty face peered at me with the lifeless eyes of the newly ressurected. The most striking aspect of the dwarf was not it's diminutive stature or even it's hideous, pockmarked face but rather the pink handkerchief hanging from it's back pocket. The dwarf must, in life, have been of the Toffee Tunneler clan, famed for their love of tightly packed fudge and gardening uphill. I got ther impression that this was probably the kind of pretentious bore who referred to themselves in teh third person. Thank heavens it was already dead for everyone knows that reanimated corpses cannot speak.

I noticed signs of life (Or as I joked to myself, unlife) from the other corpses and unnerved by my apparent transition from Necromantic hopefull to full Reanimagus I backed into the corner, disturbing an old pile of bones with my foot. I glanced down and quickly searched through the pile in case there was anything useful there. In my experience (Granted limited to thouroughly enjoying the tales of adventure portrayed in the songs of Bleeding Cataracts, the best half-orc band in the Eastern Isles) when you wake up in a cell and there's a pile of dusty bones in the corner, they're always hiding something useful...

Jam it back in, in the dark.

The bones were alive! Ducking the clumsy swipe I marvelled at my new found skills of necromancy but consternation quickly set in as I realised that although I had succeeded in bringing the soul of this long departed warrior back from the underworld, it was unresponsive to my commands and in fact appeared to be attacking me! Worse still, the other zombies were rousing from my slumber and I knew not whether they too would turn on me.

Knowing full well that discretion is the better part of valour and hoping that the heavily armed automatons around me would be less beligerent upon their awakening, I skipped away from the skeleton with the consumate grace all elves are blessed with. I positioned myself at the far end of the chamber to the skeleton, surmising that if all the awakening dead were as uncontrollable as the skeleton, they might at least be distracted fighting each other and allow me to make good my escape.

I crouched low, holding my staff ready to fend off any further attacks and waited to see what would transpire once the ritualistic powers had fully reanimated the bodies around me.

There's nowhere I can't reach.

Recovering from my initial shock, I took stock of the situation. Whatever mystical feats I had performed in reanimating the skeleton seemed to have fallen short of blessing it with any degree of combat skill. It had squandered two perfectly good opportunities to kill me and was now banging away mindlessly at the shield of the zombie-dwarf. The dwarf itself seemed particularly animated for a zombie. Having read extensively on the subject in my quest for mastery of the afterlife, I was under the impression that reanimated corpses tended towards the shuffling and moaning end of the activity spectrum whereas this gaudily dressed stunty was mincing about and bellowing like a Turkish man in a public sauna.

One of the other corpses had now struggled to it's feet and was lumbering towards the skeleton. Slack jawed and with a low, sloping forehead, it looked as if at least one of it's parents had been a troll and the other, a first round elimination candidate on Thee section of chaine ye moste likely to breake ye firste, a travelling show beloved by the lowest common denominator of every village. One of the remaining corpses was stirring too although for now my attention was focussed on battle in front of me. A cold draft blew down the stairs behind me and for a moment, I considered flight into the darkness. I have long been of the opinion however that it is better the succubus you know than the balgorg you don't and who knows what horrors my nocturnal spellcraft may have unleashed en route to my current predicament? No, the only option it seems was to stand and face this necrotic foe. Suddenly, the words of one of the greatest songweavers of the modern age sprung into my mind and I knew what I must do, I tried so hard, and got so far, but in the end, it doesn't even matter...

I remembered the months of training I had endured in the tower of Ullathon the Dreary before embarking upon my quest for knowledge. The skeleton appeared to be the most aggressive of my potential assailants and it's clumsy sword strokes had almost ripped my pristine velvet cloak. Yes, I would defeat this loathesome skeleton and then asses the zombie situation afterwards. Stepping slightly to one side to afford me a clear view of the skeleton, I gathered my will. Stretching out my fingers and incanting the mystic word "Coolio!", I unleashed a deadly blast of searing cold towards the target, ice particles rending the very air in front of me as though I were a mighty ice gigas, roaring my defiance at the very sun.

Assuming Argumentus has moved:
Casts Ray of Frost at skeleton

How ya doing, buddy?

The skelatal foe was no match for my mastery of the arcane and collapsed back into a pile of inanimate bones. "Hah", I laughed, "The power over life and death is truly mine. Hahahahahaha". I had been working on my maniacal necromantic laugh for some years and now it was sounding really sinister.

I surveyed the remaining cadavers. Now all fully awake, they seemed rather lively for a bunch of people only recently resting in sweet embrace of death. I kept my staff raised, not knowing if these undead monstrosities would be as uncontrollable as the skeleton had been. No attack was immediately forthcoming however so apparently my powers of reanimation were more pronounced when applied to the freshly dead and whilst perhaps not immediately under my control, these zombies were at least non-aggressive.

I cursed whichever barman had continued serving me to the point of memory loss. My one triumph thus far in my career as a reanimagus and I could not remember a thing! Looking around my room, I surveyed the shambling oafs in front of me more closely, wondering where I could possibly have chanced upon such a motley crew of the dead.

The dwarf who had first risen was one of the ugliest specimens of his race I had ever encountered. Obviously my experience of the race was limited, dwarves are notorious for their lack of appreciation of the finer arts and as such, one rarely encountered any of them in civilised company. The mandolin player from Puddel of ye bludde was a dwarf but only the basest of scenesters would be seen dead at their shows. As well as being incredibly ugly, the dwarf smelled like an open sewer, I could only imagine the level of depravity this poor wretch must have lived though before his demise.

The lumbering human stood scratching his head and yawning. Looking at him, it was hard to imagine he had shown any more animation when alive than before he joined the ranks of the undead. The very act of breathing seemed an effort of will for him! Somewhere in the back of my mind, a sense of unease about the fact that this zombie appeared to be breathing was growing but I pushed the thoughts aside as foolishness. It was no doubt some muscle memory leftover from when the poor fellow had been alive.

The other two were still largely inanimate. One was a non-descript halfling, thoroughly shifty looking with beady eyes that suggested that in life, the owner would have robbed the last copper piece from his own mother as soon as looked at her. The other was yet another dwarf although details were difficult to make out as the creature was still hacking furiously at the inanimate bones of the newly redeceased skeleton.

Not sure what to do next, I stood facing the others, staff held aloft with the end still glowing from my incantation and took a deep breath.

"My minions from beyond the grave, I, Scary Bob the mighty necromancer have called you forth from the netherworld. Ye shouldst feel priviledged, as the first of my minions, ye shalt be the generals of my undead horde! Now my zombie underlings, let us go forth and explore this foul dungeon, and prey to the dark lords that we shall encounter plenty of fresh recruits to our new venture upon our path!"

Additional Spam:
It appeared that while I had been composing my speech, the zombies had begun discussing matters amongst themselves. Talking zombies! Truly I possessed dark powers unknown to all but the most powerful of dark mages!

The ugly dwarf was suggesting that we should take the stairs up and looking around, I could see no alternatives. Graciously, I stepped aside, leaving the stairs clear for the small folk around me to lead the way.

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

On closer inspection, it appeared that the halfling was in fact human, albeit a very short one. Casting Light on the stupid looking human's helmet, I cautiously followed the ugly dwarf up the stairs.

How ya doing, buddy?

I came too with a start. How long had I been lost in my thoughts? The remakably lively zombies had all moved through the door and were having some sort of discussion in the next room. They had all ignored the sign hanging from the slab at the top of the stairs. From the looks of them it seemed unlikely that any of them could read when they were alive, let alone in their newly reincarnated state.

Being careful not to touch anything, I leaned forward and read the note. Then, satisfied that I had interpreted it correctly, I joined the undead in the newly discovered room.

The place had the look of a barracks, exactly the kind of place I'd have expected the ugly dwarf to wake up after a night out but hardly my usual kind of haunt.

"Right then, you with the hammer, yes, you, the ugly one. Me Scary Bob, big powerful magic man. You zombie minion."

I spoke clearly and slowly, as was the recommended practice when speaking to strangers, especially those of a dwarven nature. The dwarf ignored me, seeming intent on rubbing his ear against the northern door. Perhaps this was some form of dwarven custom or maybe a side effect of the reanimation process was itchy ears? My grandsire had always told me "There's nowt queer as folk" and this particular folk was one of the queerest I had ever laid eyes on.

The other zombies were lumbering around the room, apparently looking for food. Not sure what zombies ate or indeed why they would need to eat at all, I ignored them and considered my options.

Clearly someone needed to take charge of the situation and given my position as the only living member of the party, logic would dictate that it should be me.

"You there, hammer boy, what are you doing to that door?"

Clearly a door had to be opened and equally clearly, I was not going to be the one to do it. The zombies had been making quite a racket in my absence and it occured to me that should this be an occupied barracks, the chances were that somebody would sooner, rather than later come looking for the source of all this commotion. Then suddenly I remembered, the note, of course, I supposed I had better tell the horde what it had said, so in my best loud and slow voice I proclaimed

"Zombie horde. Hearken unto your master. I have read the missive attached unto the slab of rock atop the stairs in the previous room and it read thusly..."

Reads out contents of note, assuming I understood it and it was readable.

What kind of toxic man-thing is happening now?

The ugly dwarf stopped his ear rubbing and muttered something to his compatriot in a weird, gutteral tongue.

"Hello, sorry, me no speako Dwarfo. You speekee people speak?"

I asked the hideous demihuman. He ignored me and took up station next to the southern door, as if expecting something to burst through it at any moment. Realising that these bumbling fools would more than likely go crashing through the door with no heed for what might lie beyond, I stationed myself behind a table, facing the door and drew my trusty bow, ready to send a deadly missile into the face of whatever might be about to join us.

Stands behind the table nearest the door, draws bow and notches an arrow, considers using Mage Hand cantrip to open the door then Cloud of Daggers cantrip on doorway and allowing any would-be attackers to rush through and get brutally murdered from behind by Manrammer, just the way he likes it.

How ya doing, buddy?

I wondered if anyone had heard me when I read out the contents of the note on the slab...

Most amazing jew boots

I reflected on the fact that the big fellow was clearly here for a good time, not for a long time.

Jam it back in, in the dark.

The big fellow smashed the door off it's hinges, startling three small, green creatures who were enthusiastically preparing a meal in the next room. One of the beasts looked up at me as I loosed the arrow from my bow in a gracefull cast, sending the missile streaking towards the creature's head.

Shoots an arrow from short bow at the front goblin, the one who just got nailed by the door. I'm pretty sure Deni said he was standing by the southern door, not the northern one.

There's nowhere I can't reach.

From my tactical vantage point, I watched the carnage of battle unfold before me. The ringing of weapons on armour, the cries of the wounded, the dull, wet thud of bodies hitting the floor. I was reminded of the opening scene of In whiche spearsman Ryanlor is moste heroically rescued, an dramatisation in three acts that I had had the pleasure of watching but three seasons past in the great playhouse of Reiksdorf. Remembering the triumphant performance of the lead actor, Tomas of Hanksburg and seeing such a similar scene being played out in all too grim reality in front of me, I began to weep openly. For a moment it was as if time itself slowed so as to get a better look at the galantry and horror being lived out in this rude dungeon chamber and I could swear I heard the mournful sound of Barberetti's Adagiato for lute and zither floating across the battle.

The horde were battling bravely but the fight was in no way one sided. The splashes of blood across the walls were a mix of dwarven, human and goblin and I could smell the burnt flesh of the ugly dwarf from where one of the devillish beetles had spat fire at him. I had known these poor souls no more than half an hour and yet, it was I who had called them into being, wrenched from The Raven Queen's bosum to do my bidding. I realised that to save my horde, decisive action was needed.

The remaining goblin and beetle had retreated out of sight of the doorway and thus, out of reach of either my bow or my magiks. Now was not the time for cunning but the time for heroes. I holstered my bow and drew my staff, it's tip still burning with a cold, eldritch fire. Wiping the tears from my eyes, I uttered a fearsome war cry and vaulted over the table in front of me, rushing forward to take my place alongside my minions, gathering my will as I went, ready to unleash my dark powers against the foe, should they dare to show themselves again!

Stows his bow, draws his staff, moves to stand directly behind Argumentus, to the north.

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

Following the horde into the room, I turned towards the beetle and unleashed a blast of cold from my outstretched fingers.

Stands inside doorway, casts Ray of Frost or whatever it's called at the beetle.

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

The beast was bloodied but not yet defeated. Gathering my will, I shot another blast of icy death towards the beetle. To my surprise, I noticed that the ugly dwarf had not yet killed the goblin. Obviously the stunted chap had more sense than I had originally credited him with!

"Take him in for questioning eh? See what he knows about this place, good idea my diminutive minion"

Casts Ray of Frost at the beetle again

I was speaking idiomatically.

I looked on as the ugly dwarf struggled with the goblin. A momentus stuggle had ensued, the martial skill displayed by each combatant was sublime and it had been impossible to foresee who the victor would be. When the other dwarf had run up and felled the greenskin with a single blow it had been almost comical. Almost as funny in fact as the series of theatrical works my good friend Christophe the Tucker had taken the lead role in, Ye tyme of the daye in whiche many diverse people travel to work at ye same time. Staring opposite Jaak E Khan, a master of unarmed combat from the Eastern Steppes, the essential premis of the plays was that Khan would perform acts of dazzling combat skill whilst Christophe would play the fool and intervene at the end of every single fight with an unintentional move and a funny quip. Some critics said that using the same joke twenty five times in each of three plays was wearing the joke thin but those uncultured fools wouldn't know good comedy if it him them in the face with a morning star.

Whilst I had been reminiscing, the horde had dispersed. The big chap was tucking into a mouthful of the stew the goblins had been preparing. It looked fairly unappetising but I suppose the undead aren't fussy when it comes to lunch.

The shifty looking human had been merrily looting the bodies. I left him to it, such behaviour was uncouth at best and of course if I ever needed additional funds, my father's trust fund was only a pigeon message away.

Rather than continue through the door in this room, the dwarf had wandered off into the first room again and as I moved to join him I saw him cautiously pushing open the door. I was intrigued by this behaviour, it seems as though even when ressurected, natural instincts of exploration governed these simple creature's behaviour. Hoping to learn more about my undead minions, I moved up to the closest table to the door he was opening. Remembering the nasty little goblins throwing javelins at me before, I lifted the table and pushed it over, forming a handy barrier from behing which I could direct any combat that might occur behind the door.

What kind of toxic man-thing is happening now?

There were rats behind the door and lots of them. The beast nearest the door was huge, easily the size of a large dog and with long, yellow teeth and beady red eyes. I cursed myself for not bringing my flute of rat control. It had earned me a fortune over the years in various towns around the countryside and only once was I forced to use it to drown all the children in a village as a penalty for late payment.

The dwarf and the big oaf were blocking the doorway meaning that to use my bow would be to risk injury to my underlings. Of course my aim was true but one can never account for the sudden movements of poorly trained fighters, especially when they're standing in a doorway.

Knowing that my arcane powers were needed again, I once again summoned forth the power of the elements in a stream of icy cold, lancing out towards the closest rat.

Ray of Frost on rat nearest the door.

FELIPE NO

The battle swirled in front of me. Both dwarves were swinging ther weapons wildly at the rats, which were snarling and snapping back, gouging chunks out of the noble warriors in front of them. The shifty looking human was notably absent from the fray but I had no time to consider him, my minions needed my assistance!

Realising that stemming the flow of rats into the room was a priority, I gathered my will and conjured a cloud of lethal daggers in the doorway.

Casts Cloud of Daggers at the giant rat three squares north of me.

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

Seeing that the biggest rat was now dangerously close to me, I unleashed one of my most powerful spells towards it. A foul ray of necrotic power streaked towards the foul beast from my fingertips.

Cast Ray of Enfeeblement on closest Dire rat.

Jam it back in, in the dark.

As yet another of my spells blasted wide of the target, I shifted my aim to the large group of the vermin who were swarming over the horde. Surely the fates would not be so cruel as to allow me to miss again!

Ray of frost on rat swarm

There's nowhere I can't reach.

The ugly dwarf was badly bitten and had started ranting and rambling incoherently as he fell back under the onslaught of the rats. Despite his insane babbling however, he was still standing and fighting and could take care of himself. The big human by contrast was in trouble, swarmed over by rats and covered in a profusion of bites. My options for killing an entire swarm of rats were limited, to say none existant. If only I'd listened better during fireball lessons!

I looked around, hoping to find some inspiration. What we needed was some kind of flammable liquid but I could not think where we could get some from.

At that moment, one of the big rats snapped at me, tearing a strip out of my cloak and scattering sequins across the floor. Incandescent with rage at this befouling of my garments, I leapt backwards away from the beast and for want of a better option, summoned a cloud of mystical daggers to stab and slash at the swarm of rats.

Shift away one square south east (Assuming you can shift diagonally, if not I'll go east), cast Cloud of Daggers at rat swarm.

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

With the rats vanquished, I surveyed the carnage in front of me. There were bits of rat everywhere, the beasts had fought and died in an equally impressive fashion. My cloak was tattered at the end where one of the creatures had snapped at me and I had lost a fair few sequins as a result. I swore at that moment to find whoever had put me in this dungeon and make them pay for a new cloak, no matter what obstacles stood in my path.

The horde were acting more like traditional zombies for now, shambling around and groaning mindlessly. The big human had found a crown of some description which he placed on his head. Maybe this one had been royalty of some description in life? He certainly looked inbred enough. The shifty human and the ugly dwarf were stuffing gold pieces from the box into their pockets, to what end I could not fathom. The chances of finding an even semi-passable boutique in a place like this struck me as unlikely at best. Still, not wishing to alienate my companions, I shuffled over to the crate, uttering a low moan and gathered up the remaining coins.

The zombies seemed content for now to just sit around mumbling. At this rate I thought, we'd never be free of this place. We had after all been here no more than a quarter of an hour and already my minions wanted to rest. I decided the time was right for a motivational speech. Drawing on my years of experience working as a departmental supervisor at Golde Piece Lande - Everything in ye store available for just ye one golde piece I addressed my minions.

"Ok everyone, now gather round, gather round. You, with the crown, stop licking at the walls like that and pay attention.

First of all, I feel I ought to congratulate you all on a successful battle. That was some sterling hammer work by the camp fellow, once he got into his rythm of course and I think we can all learn a lesson from his efforts. Even though you might be a bit rubbish at something at first, with a little practice you might eventually be able to hit a massive rat that's standing directly in front of you.

I'd also like to commend your stunted companion, not only for his axe work but for the motivational groaning which seemed to really inspire the rest of you. Jolly good work that dwarf.

Again, Mr Crown over here provided some useful squishing support but I'm sure you'll all join me primarily in thanking him for his invaluable getting attacked and drawing attention away from the rest of us abilities. A round of applause for the big fellow!"

I clapped enthusiastically but the horde seemed reticent to join in. Obviously they were not yet fully motivated and required some stick to go with their carrot.

"Now I 'm sure we're all aware that not everyone was perhaps pulling their weight there. In the earlier stages of the conflict, when teamwork is most crucial to get a good start, one of our number was conspicuous by his absence. I know we can't all choose when we need to relieve ourselves but in future, if anyone is going to go for a toilet break it would be helpful if they could let the rest of us know so we don't go starting any fights without you.

Now, are there any questions?".

There didn't seem to be any questions forthcoming and all this talk of toilet breaks made me realise that I rather needed to go myself. Assuming that the shifty fellow must have found some form of latrine in the southern room, I wandered over to the doorway. Remembering that I had shot one of the goblins with an arrow and not sure when I'd have the opportunity to re-supply, I looked for the skewered corpse so as to retrieve it before popping through the door on the other side of this room to find a toilet.

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

The shifty man ran after me, wildly gesticulating and shouting about not going into the other room. "Look fellow" I told him, "I lived with a vegetarian for six years, I'm sure whatever you left in the bowl can't be any worse than the horrors I experienced then, now leave me be, I believe I may be touching cloth".

With that I hurried into the southern room.

I made it as far as the door on the western wall and was about to open it, bracing myself for whatever foul ordure the rogue may have passed into the facilities when a wet schlepping sound from behind me caught my attention. Turning slowly I saw a huge gelatinous blob on the other side of the room, oozing around leaving a trail of slime behind it. What in the world had the rogue been eating? Still, the ooze seemed fairly benign for now so I passed through the door behind me and quickly found something to prop against it. That ugly dwarf had a funny look in his eye and whilst my tastes were far from mundane when it came to the art of love, cottaging with a recently deceased and very ugly dwarf was not high on my list of priorities today. The door safely wedged shut, I squatted over the convenient trapdoor in the corner of the room, hitched up my robes and gave birth to a chocolate Kobold.

I was speaking idiomatically.

As my first, satisfying log dropped into the hatch, I heard a clinking noise. Looking down, it seemed as though some poor fool had mistaken this latrine for a wishing well of sorts and cast some gems into the pit. Oh well, I thought, they can stay where they are for now.

It was a shame there was nothing to read in there.

What kind of toxic man-thing is happening now?

Feeling much better (And about a stone lighter) after a satisfying dump, I looked around for something to wipe up with and grabbing a bit of sackcloth, cleaned myself up. Getting up and straightening my robe, I threw open the door back to join the others.

To my horror, I saw that the slime had oozed over to the dead goblins and was now filling the doorway. Quite how the shifty human had passed this through his system I would never know but pass through him it had and now it was apparently hungry. I could see no way past the blob and rather than stand around waiting for it to move, I gathered my will, girded my loins and readied myself for combat!

FELIPE NO

I surveyed the blob with a cool, critical eye. Sure it was big but it was just a blob of slime, how dangerous could it possibly be?

It was then I noticed the dissolved remains of the dead goblins. I had been in the toilet for no more than five minutes and this, this thing had reduced them to a mere puddle of fluid. I looked around, hoping to find some way to avoid this confrontation but could see none. It seemed as though the drafting of another violent chapter in The Lay of Bob was an inevitability and I prayed it would not prove to be the epilogue.

I called out to the horde to come to my aid but with the exception of the camp dwarf, they were all too far away to be of immediate assistance. Crouching low in the Angry Cockatrice stance, I circled my foe, thinking that the cooking pot might at least slow the inevitable charge of the beast. This was a live or die situation and only the most powerful of my magiks could save me now. Hoping that his was a particularly alkaline slime beast rather than an acidic one, I swung forward my staff and unleashed a ball of corrosive filth from the tip of it, streaking towards the vile slime-creature.

Move 4 spaces east, cast Acid Arrow at the slime

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

The dwarf had distracted the blob of slime which had moved into the northern room. I moved to the doorway to get a better shot at the creature and saw that it was bearing down on the dwarf, no doubt hoping to envelop him and dissolve him down for lunch. I resolved to save my minion, he would not provide food for this abomination, even if he didn't survive the encounter.

"Fear not", I called to the dwarf, "Dead or alive, you're coming with me".

With that, I hurled a beam of necrotic power at the slime thing.

Moves north to stand in doorway, casts Ray of Enfeeblement on Jelly.

Jam it back in, in the dark.