[DnD] Welcome to the Dungeon of Doom!

Acursory glance revealed no secret doros in the immediate vicinity. Thinking that now might not be the best time to be looking, I trotted back down the corridor and fired a frost ray at the halfling again. She was starting to annoy me now.

Move back up, Ray of Frost at halfling

How ya doing, buddy?

While the halfling is distracted, Bob hits her full-strength with the frost ray.

9 damage, halfling is bloodied

The maceman tries just one last time to thump Argumentus about the brains (it is hopeless)

What kind of toxic man-thing is happening now?

Immune to any potential concussion, Argumentus has had just about enough of this smug human. He winds up his wooden stick with great force, knocking the dwarf in the noggin, and swings.

Argumentus strikes Human cleaving into Heironymous

FELIPE NO

Both enemies are given a severe drubbing, beating them within an inch of their lives. Either of them could likely be knocked over by a mild breeze.

9 damage to human, 4 damage to dwarf

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

Becoming ever irritated with things not dying, I hung my crossbow at my side, drew my sword, and moved in next to the dwarf with a hammer, so maybe a sharp pokey thing would manage to do what his big stick could not.

1 right, 1 down-right
Store crossbow, draw sword
Sky flourish at halfling

Jam it back in, in the dark.

Distracting Kyra with the glint of his blade, Fescue makes a sudden slash, laying open her arm from shoulder to wrist.

Critical Hit! 9 damage

With the big fighter being harder to hurt than an orc on a bender, the wolf turns its attention to Fescue's exposed back. The rogue is knocked to the floor in what seems to be a pattern.

5 damage, Fescue is knocked prone and bloodied

Clutching her wounded arm, Kyra backs up a step and unsteadily aims the heavy crossbow. The bold clatters against the ceiling well over Motsognir's head.

Unable to safely maneuver through the melee to reach an easier target, Hieronymus is resigned to fruitlessly bonking Argumentus about the chest.

Fescue's HP: 15



There's nowhere I can't reach.

The dwarf watched the wolf become distracted by Fescue and he shuffled sideways, spitting into his hands and then swinging the hammer down at the Human's neck.

"Kord's will, I'm beginning to think the elf woman raised this group from the dead, the difficulty they seem to have with dying."

Shuffle one step over
Bolstering Strike at Hoonam Captain

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

Motsognir, still a bit heady from destroying the elf, leaped into Gabriel's footprints and swung wildly at the wolf.

Move to Wolf
Warlord's Favor on wolf, with attack benefit to Argumentus

Most amazing jew boots

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?

Emboldened by the orgy of destruction the horde were playing out in front of me, I moved forward to join them. Seeing the feeble halfling struggling with the crossbow, I pressed home my advantage.

"Hey stunty, you know if I'd met you anywhere else I might think you were kinda hot. Shame I'm going to have to put you on ICE!"

I yelled my masterful insult as I blasted the tiny wench with another frost ray.

Move 3 spaces east, Ray of Frost at halfling.

What kind of toxic man-thing is happening now?

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

FELIPE NO

Viper's strike on that goddam wolf

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

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?

At this point, most of their blood had been spilled on the floor, I could tell, because I was laying on the bloody stone. With that dwarf, who's mouth was too big for his little body, standing over me, I wriggled out from between his legs like a birthing gopher.
I stood up and saw that my friend, the other mouthy dwarf (was this a trend?) was all that was left. I looked down and saw that man's mace lying on the ground. I figured if it would hurt him as much as it did me, we'd be in good favor.

Stand in right square.
Pick up mace.
Throw it at his HEAD!

There's nowhere I can't reach.

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)

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

The dwarf wiped his bloody hammer on the pelt of the wolf to clean it and then slung it up over his shoulder, grinning like a madman as he began to walk around the room, checking the bodies and then finally that decrepit old throne. (Most specifically looking for an upgrade to plate armour on the dwaf, if he had it)

"Well now, that was certainly bracing, wasn't it?"

He kicked the dead dwarf's body as he passed by it.

(Argumentus stands around and drools on the human's corpse)

Most amazing jew boots

Motsognir was internally ecstatic, and was visibly struggling to keep it internal, lest the paladin think him some kind of nancyboy. Wanting to seem productive, he examined the dead dwarf's equipment, hoping to find something more effective than what he had waken up with.

I was speaking idiomatically.

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.

What kind of toxic man-thing is happening now?

The dwarf leaned down and unhitched the armour from the now-dead dwarf, tsking his tongue lightly as he shoved his body over and lifted the Dwarven Chainmail from him.

"Well now, doubt you'll be needing this anymore, friend."

His own scalemail having been damaged in the fight, he quickly shed the armour and donned this newly acquired bit. Always favouring Dwarven engineering. He glanced down at the staff and then looked around for the elf mage.

"Oi. You there. Elf woman. Think this may be more your speed here." Though he made a point not to touch the thing.

FELIPE NO

I found some extra ammunition and shuriken blades, and packed them away, along with an extra dagger and lockpick kit.

While the rest of the would-be thieves looted the corpses of the corpses, I walked about the room and observed it, trying to deduct what was so special about it that it had to be guarded. I took particular interest in the animal cage.

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

The dwarf wandered back towards the direction they'd come from, picking up his throwing hammer and attaching it to the straps on the back of his shield once again. He then made for the far door, poking at the warhammer on the ground, but seeing as it was nothing special, he merely continued along towards the far door, taking a moment to grip his holy symbol and mutter a quick prayer of thanks to Kord for the boon of his newly had armour. Clearly his god was rewarding him for a job while done. He caught his breath as he adjusted the glowstick in his beard, slowing his steps and listening closely to the door as he approached it. There had to be a reason they were guarding this room...

If Gabriel below 23 HP, use a healing surge

Argumentus wandered around the room, looking to have had the same thought, when in actuality he was pondering if that oozy thing would have tasted good on toast. He thought it would. And so he drooled. Just a little. His hand ran across the walls as he hefted his newfound table-weapon. He liked tables. He liked throwing them at things, especially.

spend a healing surge if he can use the full thing
Search the walls for... doors, bricks, trees, rocks... Spike.

Jam it back in, in the dark.

Our foes were vanquished! I moved over to the throne, thinking to get my breath back with a nice sit down and was about to be seated when I noticed a thin copper tube. Realising immediately that this was a powerful magical artifact, I tucked my staff into my belt and picked up this new implement.

I sat on the throne and watched as the horde busied themselves looting the bodies of the fallen. They made a curious sight, picking through the possesions of the slain and casting about the room for more loot. I was becoming fond of them, in a fatherly fashion, despite their collective inability to speak anything like a comprehensible tongue.

I had been tempted to show my disdain for the halfling woman I had slain with a display of ritualistic squatting but the throne was quite comfy and I could frankly no longer be bothered. I sat back, crossed my legs and waited to see if the chaps turned up anything interesting. I predigitated up a faint background melody that I thought would help the searching, Having consumed so much mead as to be unable to successfully perform coitus by the Undead Kennedys wafted gently around the room and I hummed along with a broad smile on my face.

There's nowhere I can't reach.

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.

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

I was antsy to leave this room. Too much blood. While my stomach could handle it, I couldn't figure the reason why we were shoved in a dungeon to become a murderous pack of fools.

I was a thief, not a damned killer. You can only steal from the dead once, and that was bad business as far as I was concerned.

Attempt to open door.

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

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.

I was speaking idiomatically.