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

Not without difficulty, Beegraks pries open the wooden barrel with his bare hands. Strangely enough, the barrel's insides are coated with glass, instead of the wood Beegraks was expecting.

He peers into the barrel. It's almost filled to the brim with a thick viscous fluid the color of shale. The gel looks almost pudding-like in consistency. Perhaps it's edible?

I guess Pang's waiting for the outcome. I was also waiting for his post, hence the delay Sorry.

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

Beegraks dips his hand into the goo - it feels thick and oily. Bringing a sample to his lips, he is assaulted with a moderately-strong stench of rotting vegetation. He gingerly takes a lick - it's bitter, and is definitely inedible. The aftertaste is horrible, though beyond that, the smothering bandit feels fine.

Cyrus tries to pick up the barrel - alas, it is heavier than he can manage. Undeterred, he leaps into the barrel and bathes himself thoroughly in the goo. He emerges from his bath sticky and reeking of rotten trees. Much to the suicidal half-elf's chagrin, he's still undissolved.

Bathing in crude oil:

1. -2 penalty to speed
2. -2 penalty to Reflex
3. -10 penalty to athletics, acrobatics, dexterity, and stealth checks
4. +10 vulnerability to fire and lightning
5. +2 bonus to AC
6. +10 resistance to cold

Save ends all effects (roll a 19 or 20)

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

4 Dice Rolls Attack vs Beegraks Fort

Blissfully ignoring his sense of smell and taste, the dragonborn consumes a bucketful of eau de rotten vegetation. The results are nauseating and predictable.

Beegraks contracts Blinding Sickness. He loses one healing surge that cannot be regained until cured.

Endurance Check after every extended rest to cure. Improve: 19, Maintain: 14, Worsen: 13 and lower
Straining hard to hide his nausea, Beegraks signals to Von Brandt his intention. What happens if these so-delicious switches are pulled simultaneously? Well, no time like the present to find out!

There's a loud creak, followed by a rumbling sound immediately echoes from the passage where they came from. It's coming from one of the branches of the main passage, from their right side. The sound eventually dies down. Was that it? How anticlimactic!

While there was no immediate danger to Beegraks, Cyrus is not as fortunate. While distracted with switch-flipping, what he thought was a couple of chests to his right hand side suddenly dissolved into a quivering mass of goo! And worse, they're attacking!

Surprise Round: 2 Object Mimics, ROUND 1: Object Mimics [28], Beegraks [23], Von Brandt [17]

DEFENSES: Object Mimic: AC 23, Fort 21, Reflex 19, Will 21

We have a guest DM for this battle. Skills will be controlling the object mimics. I will vet, keep track, and update the map as normal after his turn.

I was speaking idiomatically.

Assuming Cyrus has already spent a surge after the skeleton traps. Just this once.

Crushing Tendrils: Melee 3, 13 vs AC, 1d8 + 4 + 2d6 acid damage (24). Grabbed; -5 penalty to escape attempts.
Sustain Crushing Tendrils: 15 acid damage. Cyrus bloodied.
Slam: 11 vs AC, 2d8+7 damage.

Total damage sustained: 51.

Beegraks, Von Brandt, ROUND 2: Object Mimics

Cyrus von Brandt: 3/59 (6/7 surges) - Stone Hide
Smothas Beegraks: 78/78 (11/13 surges) - +1 tokens x2

What kind of toxic man-thing is happening now?

As Skills said, i made a mistake. Mimic A remains at AC9. As such there can be no opportunity attack of any kind - Slam is melee 1, while Mimic B can't attack while in object form.

Our protagonists are quick to recover from the ambush. Smothas Beegraks immediately beseeches Zehir's assistance, raining down a necrotic spell on any who dare molest his buddy. For his part, Cyrus takes a calculated risk, and successfully teleports away from the ooze-like creature grabbing him. His exertions have caused some of the thick-as-molasses oil to thin out.

DC to shake off being covered in oil reduced by 2. A saving throw roll of 17+ will end it.

SEQUENCE OF EVENTS:
Ardent Strike: 4 damage to B.
Whirlwind: 10 damage to B.
Sustain Crushing Tendrils: 15 acid damage to Cyrus.
Slam vs Cyrus misses, but B takes 6 necrotic damage due to Shield the Villainous.
Cyrus swaps places with B via teleportation, breaking A's grab.

Beegraks, Von Brandt, ROUND 3: Object Mimics

Cyrus von Brandt: 2/59 (5/7 surges) - Stone Hide, +1 Token x1
Smothas Beegraks: 78/78 (11/13 surges) - +1 Tokens x3

FELIPE NO

7 Dice Rolls Cyrus Savevs Death

(deprecated)

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

LET US PRETEND POST#142 AND 143 DO NOT EXIST!

Sequence of Events:

Cyrus' Thunder Bomb: 36 damage to Chesty, bloodied; 11 damage to Boxy.
Beegrak's Opportunity Attack: 12 damage to Chesty
Chesty's Crushing Tendril misses, but Chesty takes 6 necrotic damage and dies.
Boxy's Ravening Maw deals 19 damage and slows misses Cyrus; Boxy takes 6 necrotic damage.
Dragon Breath hits Cyrus for 8 poison damage; Cyrus sanctioned and unconscious.
Resurgent Smite: 19 damage to Boxy, bloodied. Cyrus regains 14 HP.

The day's exertions have finally taken their toll. Chesty LaRue takes one flail whack, one bob-omb too many, that his molecular integrity finally fails

~Zut alors! I 'ave been undone! Avenge me, mon camarade!~~~~~

Which Boxy Brown was only happy to heed. Working together with Smothas Beegraks (who was evidently moved), the pair sent the half-elf peacefully into slumberland. At least, that's what they would have done had Tiamat not smile on the sorceror and granted him purchase from Boxy's big jaws.

Horrified by his careless emotions made him do, the dragonborn sends his flail flying into the object mimic. It impacts with a satisfying SPLOTCH, sending bits of Boxy flying in every direction. Despite his current anger towards his careless friend, Cyrus can't help but feel a stirring in his loins at his partner's valor. It distracts him so much that his dagger jab at the box was made only half-heartedly.

Object Mimic, Beegraks, Von Brandt (oily), ROUND 5: Object Mimic

Cyrus von Brandt: 29/59 (4/7 surges) - +1 Token x1
Smothas Beegraks: 78(5)/78 (11/13 surges) - +1 Tokens x5

Jam it back in, in the dark.

Divine Sanction! 6 necrotic damage to Von Brandt (he attacked something other than Beegraks )

Beegraks, Von Brandt (oily), ROUND 5: Object Mimic

Cyrus von Brandt: 12/59 (4/7 surges) - +1 Token x1
Smothas Beegraks: 78(5)/78 (11/13 surges) - +1 Tokens x5

There's nowhere I can't reach.

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

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

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

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.

I was speaking idiomatically.

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!

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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).

What kind of toxic man-thing is happening now?

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.

FELIPE NO

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.

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

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.

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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.

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.

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

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.

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

Taking advantage of Cyrus' distraction, Beegraks stealthily tiptoes into the treasure chest room for more looting and plundering. There were three chests in the tiny alcove, none of which were locked or booby-trapped.

The scaly scalawag flips the lid of the silver sarcophagus, only to see.... nothing inside. The lid's underside is etched with a mysterious number:

1 / 4

A wheedling voice, quite faint at first, begin to speak the moment Beegraks opens the chest. The whisper soon escalated a deafening tirade.

FEED ME FEED ME FEED ME FEED ME FEED ME FEED ME FEED ME FEED ME FEED ME FEED ME FEED ME FEED ME FEED ME FEED ME FEED ME FEED ME FEED ME FEED ME FEED ME FEED ME FEED ME FEED ME FEED ME FEED ME FEED ME FEED ME!!!


I was speaking idiomatically.

Beegraks hurriedly slams the silver chest shut. Its greedy screams were grating on his nerves.

Briefly sweeping his eyes suspiciously over the copper and silver-plated chests, his arms close around the gold chest lid, and he sweeps it open with great speed.

Empty again. Except for:

1 / 2

GIMME GIMME GIMME GIMME GIMME GIMME GIMME GIMME GIMME GIMME GIMME GIMME GIMME GIMME GIMME GIMME GIMME GIMME GIMME GIMME GIMME GIMME GIMME GIMME GIMME GIMME!!!

What kind of toxic man-thing is happening now?

Replacing the gold chest lid, Beegraks prudently stoppers his ears before opening the third and final chest. As expected, there is yet again some numbers carved on the lid's underside.

1 / 5

A single platinum coin lies inside the chest. It is strangely silent, although the Dragonborn could swear he's hearing a tiny whisper directed at him: "Please sir, I want some more." It is probably his imagination though.

FELIPE NO

The oil covering Cyrus von Brandt has all but dripped off after he strenuously dons the plate armor. Finally however, the simpering sorcerer is transformed anew into an armored avenger, ready to strike evil into the hearts of every do-gooder out there!


Heh. Who would have thought cloth armor, after all your feats and magic, is better than plate.

The Invincible Iron Brandt rips off the offering pouch - eighteen platinum pieces clatter into the ground. He batters the door with his fists, but receives no reply for his trouble, save for a small dent on the doors that is growing bigger with every hit.

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2 Dice Rolls Rolling more bones, shh

OM NOM NOM NOM NOM NOM
OM NOM NOM NOM NOM NOM
OM NOM NOM NOM NOM NOM

Despite Beegraks' fears, the chests gulp down the platinum pieces with good manners and right conduct. Politely suppressing a burp, the gold chest finally speaks up.

Thank you very much, kind sir!

A bright flash fills the room, forcing the dragonborn to shield his delicate eyes. When the light subsided, the boxes were nowhere to be seen. And neither was Cyrus, for that matter. The suit of armor appeared to have gobbled him up without Beegraks noticing.

The keys Beegraks pocketed earlier now pulse with magical energy - it doesn't take an arcanist to notice; the glow was a giveaway. At the same time, a new scent comes to the dragonborn's nose. Smells like... a ripe gutter.

More importantly however, the doors Iron Brandt was pounding earlier are now open. There was someone on the other side, the oddest goblin the pair has ever seen:

Well hello-ooo there. Finally gotten past it, have you? Good, good. You know, you've been making so much noise. I could not concentrate, you know.

The strange goblin pauses, looking intently at the Dragonborn.

You know, you're perfect. Yes yes, just what I need. Come with me, you won't regret it you know? You can leave your tin toy here, you know.

He gestures towards the back of the passage, pointing towards the room towards the far end to Beegraks' left.

Jam it back in, in the dark.

Wait, wait wait wait... hold it! You say there's a magic man inside that metal? That's even more perfect, you know! I have this project, you know? Been working on it for many cycles now. I just need a little bit of help, you know, and it'll be all finished. Yes yes. Say you'll help, please please please, both of you?

There're two ways you can get in here, you know. Dig your way in like grave robbers, or go through a teleportation circle. You don't look that dirty, you know? Haven't been digging, yes? Someone must have pushed you into a teleporter, yes? Just like me. Oh wait, no. I came here voluntarily, you know?

Come, come! Come with me. Come with Smarno Bonnor!

Opposed Insight Check: 24 vs 21, success (see previous post for bluff roll).
Intimidation Check: failure.

Beegraks glares intently at Smarno, looking for any sign of deception. The goblin doesn't seem to be lying outright, although he's probably not telling the whole truth either.

There's nowhere I can't reach.

Tricks? No no no no no! Smarno is offended you say he's a trickster, you know. But I'll forgive you if you come this way!

And so, the green goblin leads the pair through the corridor -- past a small room with an ornate wooden chest (I could never open it, you know. Needs some kind of key!) and a room stacked to the brim with corpses (Raw materials! Forgot to clean up, sorry!)

Finally, Smarno stops in front of another room.

Please! Enter!

The stone tiles of the last room are flecked with bloodstains, and the walls are littered with cobwebs. Iron Brandt could vaguely detect some traces of magic somewhere close by.

Beegraks, on the other hand, is more concerned with the corpse room. Ever since his swamp slaughter, he's never seen a body count as high as this. It is beautiful! Truly a fine work of art!

Although, the Dragonborn is slightly unsettled at the slight movement he could detect. Was it just settling. Or are some of these unfortunates still alive? If so, the goblin clearly needs more practice.

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