[DnD] Welcome to the Dungeon of Doom!

"JUST.....DIE ALREADY!"

Sky flourish with sword @ beetle.

I was speaking idiomatically.

[I'm going to be gone all night, so...]

Second Wind
Finish Off Whatever's Still Alive, If Anything Is, With A Viper's Strike

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The dwarf howled in anger as his hammer impacted the wall, sending chips flying in all directions. He slammed it into the ground in frustration and growled under his breath. "I did that on purpose. I didn't have to miss." He grinned slightly, embers around his lips sparking and glinting in the dim light. "I just want you to feel you're doing well. I hate for people to die embarrassed."

It was then that the dwarf noticed the slight chip in the head of his warhammer. Those crazed eyes again darting up to the creature.

"HALLO! MY NAME IS GABRIEL SLEDGEHAMMER. YOU CHIPPED MY HAMMER, PREPARE TO DIE!" He bellowed the words, swinging the hammer overhead and down in a cruel blow, aiming to crush the goblin's skull.

Bolstering Strike
Shuffle backwards

How ya doing, buddy?

Fescue's blade tears through the insect, powered by his frustration. The massive beetle is torn asunder and slain, its two halves continuing to twitch as its lifeblood pools around it.

Critical hit! 9 damage. Beetle killed.

Gabriel Sledgehammer's indignation-powered overhead smash misses its target slightly, hurtling down onto the goblin's shoulder with a sickening crunch.

7 damage

Motsognir raises his axe into the air, preparing to finish off the vile beetle — and as he swings down, the human neatly cuts his target in two. Determined not to waste the swing, he twists his body to the left and begins to spin. The tornado of dwarven haplessness rapidly wends its way across the room and, winding down, catches the goblin in the neck with a gentle tap. The goblin shrugs with its remaining arm and shoots the warlord a look of gratitude before collapsing to the stones.

3 damage, goblin killed. Surge returns Motsognir to full HP.



Battle complete! Encounter value 500 XP (100 XP apiece)

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

Bloodlust instantly succumbing to hunger, Argumentus investigates the contents of the crockery.

How ya doing, buddy?

The dwarf looked down at the fallen corpse of the Goblin, swinging his hammer up onto his shoulder as he looked at the Warlord that had suddenly swung out and ended the creature with the final blow. He grinned widely and clasped his kinsman on the shoulder and shook his frame slightly, speaking in the dwarven tongue.

"Well done, friend. Clearly he was some sort of master goblin. Chief among his people, I'm sure! Long will they drink ale and sing songs of the night the dwarven brothers killed Masterchief, Lord of the Goblins and God of the underlands."

He glanced around the room, shocked to see everyone still alive and relatively in one piece. He rubbed the head of his hammer against the back of his neck to scratch an itch and then used his shield to brush the last embers out of his beard. He seemed rejuvenated by the combat, as if the majority of his wounds had healed. Only a few small red patches of skin remaining to prove he was ever set alight.

"Well then, lads. Shall we return to the last room and let our taciturn friend pet some puppies? Or do we move along?"

He was quite chipper for a guy who was just set on fire and caught in nearly mortal danger.

There's nowhere I can't reach.

Although it's hard to make out through the thick miasma of foul spices that always permeate goblin cooking, the pot is packed with the floating bodies of dozens of rats, small beetles, and other vermin. Without the fire beetles to keep the stew hot, it's rapidly congealing.

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

Argumentus downs a cupped handful of the stew while it's still just right.

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

Nothing untoward occurs!

Dammit

I was speaking idiomatically.

The Paladin gaped openly as Argumentus downed the food. Maybe letting this man choose the next direction was not his finest idea to date. At any rate he cast the hammer across his shoulders and poked his toe at the goblin's fallen corpse, looking to see if he had anything interesting on him beyond simply being nigh invulnerable, apparently.

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A search of the goblin bodies reveals little of use. Outside their battle-gear and a handful of coins, you find a tarnished silver statuette on the body of the largest of the goblins. You recognize the figure as a representation of Bane, an evil god of war.

Stuffed in the javelin sheaf of the stubborn goblin, you find a bilingual scroll in both Common and a language you don't recognize: How To Weep For Mercy, The Weepy-Weep Way. The ink is still fresh!

Lewts: 25 GP, silver statuette, helpful guide to weeping

Equipment: 3 sets leather armor, short sword, 5 javelins, 1 spear. I won't bother adding random equippables like this to your inventories unless you specifically mention them, since otherwise you'll get overburdened in a hurry.

FELIPE NO

The dwarf unfurled the scroll, raised a brow after reading the first few lines, rolled it back up and tossed it at What About Bob.

"Here, you'll need this more than the rest of us. Being a big girl's blouse, and all."

Bane, however, he spat on the ground as he arched a brow. "Poor misguided bastards. Their belief so misplaced in false gods. By Kord's blade, when will the world learn?" He shook his head and set the statue back on the ground, picking up his share of the 25 gp, a full 5 coins, and left the rest where it was. The statue was possibly valuable, but a zealot like Gabriel was not about to go tromping around with a false idol in his pack.

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

Argumentus counts the number of creatures he laid the deathblow upon with his fingers. Struggling with finger number 1 he pockets 5 GP anyways.

"Now short man you hep Argumentus? We see puppies?"

Jam it back in, in the dark.

The dwarf glanced up at the larger man, shrugging as he pocketed the gold in his waist satchel. "Well, we might as well," he began "as we ain't leading but two things right now. Jack and shit. And Jack left town."

He clapped Argumentus on the lower back and began wandering towards the north door, glancing around to see if anyone else was coming along with them. "I suppose we did promise you a chance to see the other room, now didn't we."

Hefting his hammer up over his shoulder, Gabriel walked with the man-o-tard into the previous room, making for the north door...

There's nowhere I can't reach.

The gold catches my eye, and seeing as I've been stripped of what wealth I had, I'll certainly need some if I manage to escape this place...

I straddle over to the floor where the fat dwarf lay down his good. While nobody is looking quite attentively, I take the remaining gold pieces, and the silver statuette, and pocket them safely. The 5 coins into my purse (assuming I have one), and the other 10 into my pack.

I then explore the room.

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Argumentus looks at the North Door. He looks long and hard at it. Then he looks some more. Then he realizes that he's not doing anything and inspects the door to see if he can open it once again in his own "special" way.

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

Zeph:

This room was probably a kitchen at one time, but rotted shelves and cupboards have spilled their payload of dishes over the floor, and the ancient brick oven has been converted into an unfortunate makeshift privy. A small glass vial of black fluid lies abandoned in a corner.

Brady: Argumentus sees nothing unusual about the door.

I was speaking idiomatically.

Argumentus stares at the door, slack jawed and dull-eyed. A single line of drool slides down from the corner of his mouth, miraculously reaching the floor without a break.

Argumentus waits on more dudes

What kind of toxic man-thing is happening now?

Investigate black vial.

FELIPE NO

The dwarf blinks at Argumentus for a good long while, then with a slight sigh and a shake of his head he glances over his shoulder and then steps to the side of the door, so as not to be in front of it when it opens, presses his hand to the door and gives it a good push to slide it open. After the last time, he's in no hurry to stand directly in front of a door right now. He'd be slightly more cautious, but he'd seen that this slightly slow human was the next best warrior to himself in these caverns, so it wasn't so massive a worry. Besides, he hadn't heard any goblin-speak on the other side of this door. Just rats. What could possibly go wrong?

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

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.

Jam it back in, in the dark.

Motsognir The Subgenius was leaning, as subtly as he could manage, against the north wall of the kitchen, still dizzied from dealing what he believed to have been a devastating death blow to the goblin. He gathered himself up and straightened his back, so as to stand his full 4'8".

"Maybe now I'll get a little respect," he muttered to himself, strutting into the northern chamber. He drew in a large breath, readying to take the lead of the group, "Before we do anything ra–"


His kinsman and the slopehead had knocked in the northern door. So much for a leadership role, he thought, reigning in his intuition once again until another opportunity arose.

Move to northern door as fast as my little dwarf legs can take me

There's nowhere I can't reach.

Zeph: The black fluid is slow to move around in the vial as you turn it about in your hands, and it leaves a glistening trail behind it. It's probably some kind of oil.

With no one bothering to closely examine the door other than the slow-witted Argumentus, the object weighing it down — a block of stone — crashes onto the poor simpleton's head. Luckily, he doesn't even notice.

The door, divested of its burden, swings heavily into the next room.

This chamber is cluttered with boxes, crates, chests, packages, and containers of all sizes. Sadly, most of them have been torn to shreds by the horde of vicious rats in residence here. Big rats, bigger rats... and a veritable multitude of smaller, hungrier rats, all of them streaming around a ceiling-high stack of boxes in the center of the room — toward the hapless Argumentus, who has been disappointed once again in his quest for puppies. It is a tragic moment.

With a great effort, Scary Bob manages to tip over the table and provide himself with an effective shield.



Any of the squares in this room containing a crate are Difficult Terrain, requiring two squares of movement instead of one. Because of the tall stack of boxes, you can't pass through the square in the center of the room at all, nor can you draw a line of sight through it.

Combat time! Initiative order: Scary Bob, Argumentus, Rat Swarm, Dire Rat (Left), Fescue, Giant Rats (3), Gabriel, Motsognir, Dire Rat (Right)

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

[I know it's not even close to my move, but I'll probably be sleeping by the time it is, and my options are a little limited...]

Oh sweet Moradin, I knew there'd be rats, but not these hells-spawned children of Incabulos. The thought whipped through Motsognir's mind like one of his throwing hammers through the eye of an enemy. He continued his charge north, knowing that when he eventually reached his foe, they would feel his axe.

North 5 Spaces

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

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.

I was speaking idiomatically.