[DnD] Welcome to the Dungeon of Doom!

I found myself once again taken aback at the sheer destructive power my minions were capable of unleashing in such a short amount of time. Once the dragon had fallen down the stairs I had anticipated a fair bit of hacking and stomping to follow but to smash through a wall to get at the beast, that was a level of arse-kickery far beyond my expectations. I positively glowed with pride, the pain from my severe wounds all but forgotten as I was caught up in the moment.

From the sounds it was making, the dragon was badly wounded but not yet defeated and I knew from experience that a wounded animal was often the most dangerous kind. The scars I got when I had trodden on Master Illanor's cat's injured tail by mistake that one time would live with me forever.

I picked up my staff and rushed to get a clear view of the melee, the sight of the dragon covered in masonry and bleeding from multiple gashes almost heart-warming. As soon as I had line of sight, I flicked my wrist and unleashed a debilitating ray, hoping to end this fight before anyone got themselves killed.

Pick up staff, run west until I have line of sight on the dragon, cast Ray of Enfeeblement on aforementioned dragon

There's nowhere I can't reach.

Brigid creeps up on the battered dragon and promptly sets it on fire.

11 damage, and 5 ongoing fire damage to dragon (save ends, w/caveat). Argumentus' HP +14

The dwarves take a moment to discuss the relative merits of demolition.

Soggy's HP +6

Bob rushes to a better vantage point, casting a crippling spell toward the dazed and bleeding dragon being simultaneously pummeled by multiple foes while trying to get its footing. He misses.

The dragon pulls itself upright and prepares for another onslaught, smothering the flames against the stones. Not burning to death is the better part of valor.

Takes 5 fire damage, stands up from prone, action point, total defense, saves against fire

Gabriel (and Goliath), Argumentus, Motsognir, Brigid, Scary Bob, Black Dragon

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

The dwarf blinked as the dragon stood up and got all big. Much more intimidating this way than the last way. He whistled for his dog as he unleashed a violent strike with his axe, aiming for the dragon's slimy underbelly as his hound took up his place next to brigid and snapped at the thing's toe.

Bolstering strike
Goliath takes his place and attacks.

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

"OWWIE OWWIE OWWIE OWWIE OWWIE OWWIE!"

Argumentus flails about attempting to shake off the searing swamp dragon vomit. In his flailing he inadvertently continues to strike the beast. Reaping Strike

How ya doing, buddy?

Motsognir sees the dumb one's pain, and tries to get the acid off him. Then he remembered there was a dragon, and hit it with his axe again.

Help Argumentus Shake It Off (no gay stuff hur hur)
Viper's Strike

What kind of toxic man-thing is happening now?

Wrathful Thunder
Bring the pain

FELIPE NO

Surely the beast could take little more of this punishment! I unleashed a frost ray, hoping to finish it off.

Ray of Frost on dragon

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

The dragon deflects Gabriel's axe, but the paladin's faithful hound darts in and rips a chunk out of the lizard's vulnerable underbelly.

9 damage to dragon

Argumentus, not knowing his own strength, inadvertently jams an elbow into the dragon's eye while trying to avoid losing any more skin.

Argumentus takes 5 acid damage. 2 damage to dragon. Save failed.

Motsognir tries to help the fighter stem the damage, but Argumentus is panicking to thoroughly to give the dwarf any attention. He turns to assault the dragon, burying his greataxe in the creature's massive foot.

5 damage to dragon. Save failed, again.

Brigid calls down a mighty thunderclap onto the beast as she strikes, and the lizard howls in pain at the terrible noise in its ears.

8 damage to dragon; it gets... even MORE dazed!

His repertoire of powerful spells depleted, Bob falls back upon old reliable. The icy blast flies directly up the dragon's flaring nostrils, and the wyrm emits an earthshaking shriek as the ice seeps into his very brain.

The black dragon fixes the elf with a stare of utter malignant hatred; his eyes roll up into his head and the mighty beast slumps to the floor with a crash.

9 damage to dragon; slowed, and uh also it dies, fuck

VICTOLY! (1625 XP, 325 XP each)

Jam it back in, in the dark.

"Okay boys, who wants roast dragon?"

Busies herself with looking for cooking utensils, a fire, and a good stout knife to start carving up the feast

There's nowhere I can't reach.

While the women prepared his food, and the other two warriors gazed at eachother with homoerotic lust, Motsognir took a moment to sneak back into the dragon's lair and help himself to the gold lying in the corner.

Most amazing jew boots

Though simple, Argumentus understood mortality and burning acid. He grateful to be alive.

Picking up a dead hobgoblin's sword, he slices open the dragon's midsection and begins an amateur dissection, investigating its stomach contents to find a present for his skeleton buddies.

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

Brigid rifles through the hobgoblin chambers in search of cooking supplies. Sadly, the hobgoblins had no concept of good tableware. Other than the spit over the fire and the silver platter under the rapidly-congealing roast beast, no cookware is to be found. Brigid also discovers a folded purple robe in a cabinet, emblazoned with stylized flames.

Lv. 3 Fireburst Robes

Motsognir hurries downstairs to loot the dragon's hoard before the other fighters can get it all for themselves. The skeletons rejoice to see a member of the party, intuiting that their tormentor must surely be slain at last. Along with a great quantity of gold (675 GP), Motsognir discovers other treasures:

A set of chainmail, studded with small plates depicting heroic deeds.

Lv. 3 Chainmail of Exploits

A cloudy green bottle, retrieved from the skeletons' little boat.

Lv. 4 Potion of Acid Resistance

Leather goggles with lenses of smoked glass. They can be worn at night, to help you keep track of visions in your eyes.

Lvl. 2 Eagle Eye Goggles

Atop a tiny wooden bench amidst all the heaped treasure sits an unassuming bronze chalice, fairly coated in ruinous verdigris.


Rooting through the dragon's guts is a painful and unpleasant experience, but Argumentus does find a small golden pin that has escaped digestion. As he grasps the faintly glowing brooch, the remaining acid sloughs from his body onto the floor as if it were late for an appointment. The dragon is also full of fairly large organs, if that's your kind of thing.

Lvl. 3 Brooch of No Regrets

I was speaking idiomatically.

Motsognir didn't really care if he picked up things that were especially useful, he just wanted to finally pick some things up. He took the Chainmail and 200 GP, stuffing it in his bag before the big one had a chance to take it like everything else he found. He also picked up the chalice, figuring the lizard-men might trade him something nice for it.

Most amazing jew boots

Motsognir removes the "Jade" Chalice of Maguffin from its place of honor. The cup appears at first to be laden with additional gold pieces, but is actually full to the brim with coin-shaped rock candies wrapped in yellow tinfoil. The edibility of the Candy of Maguffin is dubious at best.

According to the wrappers, nearly all the candies are carrot flavored.

FELIPE NO

Much as the brooch tickled his fancy, Argumentus understood he had no use for it in his line of work, handing it without a word to the Halfling.

Thinking of his skeleton buddies, Argumentus cuts out the dragon's liver, hauls it down to the raft, and pockets the potion while letting the liver float on the raft towards the grateful dead. Perhaps they'll enjoy dragon foie gras.

Argumentus proceeds to pocket 100GP and search the rest of the cavern for anything else of interest, running his big sweaty palms over its ancient stalagmites and etcetera.

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

The dwarf grabbed a hundred gp for himself, tossed a piece of dragon meat to his dog before it disappeared, and then took a moment to realise what they'd done. He thought of long diatribes about Kord's will and the greatness of their quest.

He decided to settle.

"We are fucking AWESOME."

Jam it back in, in the dark.

The robe was particularly fetching so I tried it on, it seemed to fit ok and my old robes were looking particularly tatty. The goggles looked pretty fetching too and being the primary ranged combatant of the party I nabbed them too. I helped myself to roughly the same amount of gold everyone else seemed to be taking and went to investigate the dead hobgoblin mage whose sparky staff had piqued my interest...

There's nowhere I can't reach.

Don't look like we'll be having any acid dragon for dinner. The man-golem didn't mind any, and he gave me a right nice brooch he carved out of the beast. He seems like a good chap.

I examine the rest of the rooms, looking for anything hidden in the walls, before taking the rest of the gold found in the basement.

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

The skeletons hungrily fall upon the delicious liver. Without any digestive systems to speak of, the meat promptly falls back out of their rib cages into the water. The skeletons immediately fetch the liver out of the water and devour it again. This could go on indefinitely.

Poking and prodding the walls of the dragon's lair, Argumentus discovers the dragon's probable method of entrance: a huge boulder jammed in an opening in the west wall. Sunlight is faintly visible in the cracks between the boulder and the wall. It would have been trivial for the dragon to shove the rock aside, but the party lacks the force of muscle to push such a hulking obstacle around. There must be some other way to move it.

Goliath wolfs down his own dinner in a single gulp as he shrinks and recedes back into the tiny onyx figurine. Moments later, the statuette emits a single quiet belch.

Bob examines the hobgoblin staff, discovering nothing remarkable beyond an inscription in the wood:

This is a staff. You might think that there is something to it... But in fact it is just an ordinary staff.

Brigid finds nothing else of interest in her examination of the upper chambers.

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

I examined the mage's corpse, hoping to discover how he'd made his staff go all sparky like that. I then tagged the wall and sat down for a quick rest before we headed back to the kobalds.

search the mage's body, tag the wall, healing surge my way back as close to full health as I can

I was speaking idiomatically.

Argumentus had always solved problems with his fists, and no amount of critical thinking on his part would even get close to finding a solution. He goes back up to rest and heal up before the party returns to the bow wows.

What kind of toxic man-thing is happening now?

Something was tugging at me. I couldn't stop thinking of poor Ulvig, who I portrayed in order to get the party close to the maguffin. He had a right nice little place here, dragon aside - and it ain't like folks can help who they're kin to.

After a short rest up to full health, I decide to find Ulvig's body and give it a fitting funeral, as best I can in this place.

Attempt to identify which of the beds belongs to Ulvig, and then search for his body, dragging it into his bed (or any random bed if I can't figure out whose belongs to who).

FELIPE NO

The dwarf picked up his dog and looked around.

"Right. I bet those little people have something to move this rock out of the way. And I bet he'll trade it for this here goblet. Though I sort of want to hit that running goblin with the other dwarf until the goblin is dead."

Healing surges to full.
Reacquire puppy

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

Bob manhandles the hobgoblin mage's body one last time in search of answers. After an extremely thorough examination, he finds a tattered yellow note in a hidden pocket.

-----------------------------

Dear asshole,

If you're reading this, it's probably because you killed me and stole all my stuff.

Screw you, buddy.

All I have left is my wardrobe and my walking stick. Everything else has been given to that damnable dragon as "tribute". Should you wish to go fetch it from him, be my guest. Tell him I said

(the text is interrupted by a small but detailed sketch of a goblinish hand giving the two-fingered salute)

If you, like myself, are of a wizardly inclination, you may well desire the secret of my fantastic electrical powers and as a matter of professional respect I will reveal my secret. Unfortunately, this power is nothing I could teach you; it is simply a curse upon my genes. To put it shortly, Mom had a thing for storm giants. This power likely dies with me; I have no heirs. The hobgoblin ladies don't like it when I accidentally electrocute their vaginas.

Fuck you, die in a fire:

Vyzgar Thunderbones


-----------------------------

Bob's HP +15

Argumentus' HP +20

Brigid's HP +12

Gabriel's HP +18

-----------------------------

Remorseful about her incidental theft of Ulvig's identity, Brigid sees to properly setting the goblin to rest.

It's simple enough to identify Ulvig; one of the bodies is carrying filthy documents ordering the transfer of a "Corporal U. Crunchguts" to the dungeon from some outpost in the east. Ulvig had a history of insubordination, it appears. The orders are only two weeks old.

It's not easy to pull the ice-rimed body down from the ledge and carry it back to the bunks, but she perseveres. Ulvig was smallish even by goblin standards, so it stands to reason that the mattress with the smallest dent probably belonged to him.

With little specific knowledge of Ulvig's life or deeds, Brigid relies upon her command of the Goblin language and her understanding of their primitive rituals. It is a crude and awkward ceremony.

But as Brigid calls on Melora to forgive the wretched creature, the pain-wracked features of its frozen face seem to slacken. The goblin's death grip upon his sword loosens, and at last his limbs splay limply on the bed as if relieved of some great binding force.

Most goblins spend eternity alongside Bane, god of war. This one, perhaps, has gone to a better place. Melora smiles upon the halfling's efforts, and the holy symbol around Brigid's neck begins to hum with new and remarkable power.

RP reward: Brigid's holy symbol increased to +1

Jam it back in, in the dark.

Feeling decidedly better, the dwarf glanced down at where the cleric was saving the goblin from an afterlife of torment. Whatever. His god could totally whip her god.

At any rate, he walked back down to pry himself a dragon's tooth as a trophy, fairly certain no one at home would believe the bit about where he killed a dragon.

Following this up, he'd make for the upper rooms, trying to find where that damned coward goblin ran away to.

There's nowhere I can't reach.