[DnD] Secret Cow Level (GFF D&D Adventure 6)

2 Dice Rolls who is daunting light helping

Glock spots the reinforcements careening around the corner. Thinking fast, he slams shut the broad doors of the dining hall and bars them with the iron rod he'd found a little earlier. Wooden doors wouldn't slow down a troupe of angry dwarves for long, though.

Gordok wails despairingly. Not only had his pet dwarf escaped, his brand-new best and favoritest bell was getting terribly abused. It was a day that would live in infamy. Gordok screams such a terrible scream that the sheer wind of it carries the duergar guard flying over the bell and deposits them on the floor in a quivering heap. Rundarr, however, stands his ground in the face of the terrible blast — thought the sheer force of it bends him over backward to the point that he's effectively lying down. He seems to have temporarily affixed the soles of his boots to the floor.

"I'll not let such a tiny man as you push me around, ye shapeshifting miscreant!"

Rundarr triggers Dwarven Greaves as an interrupt, resisting the forced movement but immobilizing him for a turn.

Swearing vengeance against the beards of the world, Gheth mutters a small prayer under his breath. In an instant, the duergar guard's beard had burst into a nimbus of holy flame. The guard wails in terror, slapping his own face desperately.

And: bloodied. You didn't specify who gains advantage from the Daunting Light, so the dice say it's Garrmondo

The Flaming Beard, distracted by his terrible plight, crawls away toward a corner and unsteadily gets back on his feet. The very indignation of having his beard befouled seems to have him trembling with rage. Pointing an accusing finger at Gheth, the guard's hands burst into an unholy flame (which burns, but does not consume).

"You're makin' me very cross", he hisses.

Guard enables Infernal Anger

The other guard nearly runs headlong into the doors of the hall as Glock hurriedly slams them shut. Putting his weight behind his shoulder, the guard does his best to smash the door down. But the bar on the other side stymies his efforts, and the doors remain a solid barrier.

"Very well, ye mewling wenches! We'll take the damned thing apart timber by timber if we must!"

Garrmondo, Delic, Duergar Scouts, Rundarr, Glock, Gordok, Gheth, Duergar Guards

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

4 Dice Rolls charge the north door!

Knowing a good idea when he sees it, Garrmondo follows Glock's lead and just slams the door shut rather than pursue the scout any further. With his back to the door, the scout should have plenty of trouble getting back in since the door completely opens into the room and all that.

Opportunity spotted, he launches a vial of oil at the guard with the flaming beard. The bluish-white fire engulfing the duergar's jaw clearly wasn't an ordinary flame, but Garrmondo never was really up-to-date on the study of theological chemistry. It seems to work well enough; when the oil smashes into the side of the guard's head, the holy fire begins to spread wildly all over the duergar's upper body.

"Well", says the guard, completely wreathed in flame from the waist up. "I've had better days, I tell you what."

Um, 3 damage to the guard. It sounded real cool when you proposed it though. =(

Delic passively observes the majestic flight of the rare Bakersfield Oil Jar. He turns to the left to watch Garrmondo fire the vial, then he turns to the right to watch it connect. He smiles an enigmatic smile. Such is Delic. Do not presume to know him.

Another duergar reaches the opposite side of the east doors, and begins to bash them down with his warhammer.

7 damage to door.

The scout Garrmondo had just shut the door on immediately attempts to charge through and smash it down, but fails completely, running into the undamaged door with an audible splat.

Waving his arms desperately, Rundarr finally pulls himself upright. Sadly, his boots are still securely affixed to the floor and try as he might he can't reach anyone in order to batter them. He thrashes his hammer in Delic's general direction; the fighter merely arches an eyebrow.

Glock, Gordok, Gheth, Duergar Guards, Garrmondo, Delic, Duergar Scouts, Rundarr

How ya doing, buddy?

2 Dice Rolls Burpin be hurtin

Glock glances at the door. "My friend the skull rod, I shall call you MURRAY. Please hold on for as long as you can! I will save you!"

He could have sworn he saw the skull's jaw open and close as if to say "HURRY UP YOU FUCKER" but it could have just been the slowly moulding cheese in his acidless stomach cavity speaking.

Frightened and confused by this hallucination, Glock moves away from the door.

Move to Y10

Looking up towards the boss dwarf, Glock readies something awesome to say.

Opening his mouth proves a bad idea, though. All he gets out is "Your g-" before a massive cheese belch follows through. So massive, and so fragrant, that it flies like an arrow right into Rundarr's face.

Luckily for Glock, this particular Dragonborn has no issue with this sort of thing, and is not phased in the least by by what is essentially one step away from projectile robovomit flying right past him.

Vicious Mockery on Rundarr
12 + 7 + 2 = 21 > 18.
1() + 5 = 6 damage.
Rundarr takes -2 penalty to hit.

The dwarf gets a whiff of it and makes a pretty disgusted face. Even compared to dwarf gastronomical events, this was pretty potent.

There's nowhere I can't reach.

3 Dice Rolls curse damage

Rundarr was still in place. And well in range. Yeah...

Eldritch Blast @ Rundarr

Rundarr takes 14 damage from the crackling blast shot across the room and then a further 6 curse damage.

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

4 Dice Rolls damage2

Excerpt from Gheth McGarnigal's adventuring notes: pg 148

Quote:

How does one tell another he smells like a refinery that manufactures both steel and eggs? This much I say: nothing compares to a warforged who has eaten midnight tacos and chased it with harvest beer.
Don't get me wrong, I still finished his tacos for him.
Note to self: Bean curd and Harken chilis are delectable with silicone lubricant topping.

Lance of Faith on T13 (Guard) 6 damage
Sustain Spiritual Weapon on S10 (Rundarr) 15 damage

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

5 Dice Rolls lance of faith, specified

Sorry for the holdup, some behind-the-scenes stuff causing a delay of game. We'll skip the extra flavor this time since things are about to get real goofy anyway.

The endless harassment of Gheth's ethereal dagger darting about him frays Rundarr's last nerve.

"You're... you're makin' me angry. Y'won't like me when I'm angry."

A bulging vein in the duergar's forehead begins to throb, and before the Horde's astonished eyes Rundarr begins to expand. The iron links of his chainmail pop apart and fly off like kettle corn until the armor is little more than a poncho draped over his massive shoulders, and the "dwarf" towers over everyone else in the room. Ten feet tall, mad as a wet ogre, and twice as ugly, Rundarr stares down at the puny dragonborn. Pointing his now-comparatively-small warhammer in the cleric's direction, the duergar warlord keeps it simple.

"KILL HIM!"

Delic stares up at Rundarr with a look of bemused detachment, as though the situation had nothing to do with him whatsoever.

Now he's really getting huge

The guards move quickly to follow Rundarr's order to the best of their (limited) ability, with the unfortunate fellow with the now-smoldering beard rushing forward to smash in Gheth's jaw with his hammer. The crunching sound is deeply satisfying on a primal level.

Gheth is warhammer'd for 17 damage

The hammering apart of the eastern doors accelerates, and Murray is beginning to visibly bend around the middle of his bar. The hinges aren't going to take much more punishment.

Outside-the-room guard trigs Infernal Anger; Door is warhammer'd for 11 damage

Garrmondo, Delic A SURPRISE!, Duergar Scouts, Rundarr, Glock, Gordok, Gheth, Duergar Guards

I was speaking idiomatically.

6 Dice Rolls double attack p2

With Dwarfzilla getting ready to eat the entire prom, Garrmondo had no more time to waste on small fry. Not that the scout seemed to be making much headway against the door anyway, Garrmondo jams a chair under the door handle.

Delic continues to stare apathetically at the mayhem all around him. Then, abruptly, he shrugs off his scale armor and tosses to the floor, disgust written on his face. He's wearing leathers underneath — why would anyone do that? No wonder he always moved around so slowly. Then he drops his sword as well, the blade simply slipping from his limp hand. He raises his hands to his face, cupping his forehead as though suffering a terrible headache.

"Everybody just... just be quiet for a minute, I—"

Delic begins to shake uncontrollably.

"The shouting and the bells and the ridiculous giant dwarf and the halfling who eats people and the singing robot and the... the..."

He starts hypenventilating. At this point he's the center of attention; even the hammering on the doors seems to have petered out.

"Too much. Too much! Can't concentrate. Can't. No. Stop. Can't focus. Can't focus!"

Delic falls to his knees, and a terrible metamorphosis overcomes him. At first it seems a trick of the light — his hairline shifting around, little ripples going over his flesh. But it's hard to deny that something surreal is going on when his skin starts cycling through every color of the rainbow.

Soon, "Delic's" appearance is shifting around so quickly it's almost hard to look at. He continues covering his face, but his body goes through dozens of different shapes — one moment there's a grey-bearded dwarf sitting on the floor, then a raven-haired elf girl, a burly tiefling, a one-armed orc, an emaciated drow... for a strange instant he even seems to have the iron skin of a warforged.

Then, at long last, the wheel of identities clicks to a halt.

Blinking and rubbing his eyes groggily as though he had just woken from a long nap, a young man staggers to his feet in the spot where Delic had stood less than a minute before. He seems superficially human in most of the important ways — but there's something off about him. His ears a little too big, his mouth a little too wide, and his eyes — a strange yellow color that almost seems to glow in the firelight.

Looking around the room, the "newcomer's" expression gets gloomier and gloomier as he awkwardly fumbles out a longbow he had strapped to his back under the scale mail. No wonder Delic had always been so stiff.

"Okay, clearly a little bit of a tussle here. Let's just save the introductions for later. Raise your hand if you're not trying to kill me."

Now that the horrifying noise of the shapeshifter's flesh sliding around had finally come to a merciful halt, the scouts resume trying to smash their way into the room. The eastern doors give way under a final vicious blow from the scout's warhammer, and the splintered ruins collapse messily to the floor. Murray's probably still okay under there. The scout cautiously makes his way into the room.

Not discouraged in the least by Garrmondo's progressively elaborate barricade, the scout at the north door proceeds to hammer away at it.

7 damage to north door

Rundarr turns on Gheth, his massive bulk trembling with rage. He trundles toward the dragonborn, smashing the table beneath his weight. Gheth ducks under the gigantic duergar's wild swings easily.

Glock, Gordok, Gheth, Duergar Guards, Garrmondo, Cal Amah, Duergar Scouts, Rundarr

What kind of toxic man-thing is happening now?

3 Dice Rolls *dammit

It didn't look like it was too difficult for the scaley one to dodge the giant hammer of doom, but Glock was somewhat amused by how the wake generated by the big slab of iron flying through the air was enough to move the guy by a good five feet.

Virtue of Cunning
Shift Gheth to W9.

The new fellow that just appeared didn't have a G in his name. Glock could tell because this Cal fellow had written his name on the tags of his skintight leather pants, as if someone would steal THAT fashion accessory.

Instantly distrusting this new fellow because he's not part of the G-unit Gangstas, it was decided upon that he could, at least, make a good door, even if Murray failed him.

The speaker in his head extended outward, and Glock played the best song he knew that had anything to do with blustery stuff and bein' a tad chilly.

Get the Flash Player to play this audio file:
Tune of Ice and Wind at U11
Shift Cal to V14. (U12 --> V13-->V14)
Don't hit a god damn THING
8 + 5 = 13 / 2 = 6. Six fucking damage. Bulllllllshit. And slowed until next turn. Go to hell RNG.

Being the intelligent robot he is, he also recognized that shit might get pretty fucking real right quick, and thus backed off slightly.

Move to Y7

How ya doing, buddy?

3 Dice Rolls curse damage

Between the giant dwarf and possible sharpshooters Gordok figured it was high time to find some furniture to become familiar with. They'd understand. They always did.

Move to X8
Eldritch Blast @ Rundarr
Converse with the table about feelings and dinnerware

Another spit in Rundarr's direction causes 13 damage and 5 curse damage. Every bit counts.

"So as I was saying I never really knew my father..."

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

6 Dice Rolls damage

Gheth could see this whole thing taking a turn for the bone-crunchy, so he did what any good doctor would do, and with a gesture, let out a shimmering wave of reinforcing energy. He was filled with renewed determination. He'd not suffer this bearded abomination to live, so help him! He let out a fearsome battlecry, and in the heat of the moment, it manifested as a piercing frosted wind, cracking the skin of the two enemies in front of him.

That done, he figured it might not be untoward of him to start calling in the reinforcements of his own.

"Hey, puffy sleeves! A little help? The chair can wait!"

Shield of Faith on all party members: +2 AC
Dragon Breath so as to hit U10 and V11. Hits! 7 damage Rundarr, 8 damage Guard
Sustain Spiritual Weapon and combat advantage on T9 (Rundarr) Hit! 13 damage

Jam it back in, in the dark.

3 Dice Rolls bang bang

The door is breached, but it seems too late for the guards and scouts to save Rundarr — the monstrous dwarf is wavering on his feet, bleeding from a dozen serious wounds.

The guard from beneath the bell rushes Gheth desperately, hoping to at least wound the cleric before the end. Battered and bleeding, his feeble swing doesn't even jostle Gheth's shield arm.

The second guard is rushing into the room onto to nearly collide with the shapeshifter going in the other direction.

"Ho ho, trying to escape, are you?"

The guard's warhammer swiftly arcs into Cal's jaw with a meaty crunch. That jaw was new, gods damn it all. This is why we can't have nice things.

12 damage to Cal

Garrmondo, Cal Amah, Duergar Scouts, Rundarr, Glock, Gordok, Gheth, Duergar Guards

There's nowhere I can't reach.

3 Dice Rolls Hunter's Quarry

Did that overgrown toy just micturate over the place? Whatever it was, Cal was slipping headfirst towards the heathens that just smacked down the door. Fortunately, his feet caught on a curious skull-tipped rod which halted his momentum, but snapped in half during the process.

He was always fascinated by these mechanical golems. Always wanted one of them when he was a kid - and make every human child very jeal--

The hammer blow rudely interrupted Cal's reverie. Going limp, his body follows the full arc of the warhammer's trajectory, sending him sprawling into the opposite direction.

"Gag hurt, you mean gwarf! You'll pay for ghag!"

Activate "Yield Ground", shift two squares to X12.

Deciding that discretion is the better part of valor, Cal decides to take cover behind the robot.

Move to Y8 and designate Rundarr as quarry.

"I hag enough out of gis. And especially you, giant gwaf!"

Cal takes careful aim at Rundarr and lets loose with his patented Shadow Wasp Strike (TM), barely killing him.

Roll: 8 + 10 = 18, vs. Reflex 16: HIT.
Damage: 12 + 7 + 7 = 26 damage.

"WHO ELSE WANGS SOME?!"

Spend an Action point to ready an action: Two-Fanged Strike on any duergar that moves closer.

"YOUR LEADER IS DEAD. LOWER YOUR WEAPONS, AND WE'LL LET YOU LIVE. MAYGE."

How ya doing, buddy?

"Aw, hell naw nigga. He does NOT talk like that".

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

It's all your gault, rogog! I galks like gis begauss of my gusted jaw!

I was speaking idiomatically.

Darting across the room, Garrmondo swiftly draws his blade across two duergar throats — and even as the guard falls gurgling to the floor, an arrow sprouts from Rundarr's eyesocket. The giant-sized dwarf-thing tumbles face-first to the floor with a mighty thud, driving the arrow into his brain.

This is somewhat bad for duergar morale.

"By Asmodeus and all the lesser devils! They've slain Rundarr! Quickly men, retreat! Fall back to the barracks, we'll hit 'em with the artillery!"

The remaining three duergar flee out the corridors, the sound of their boots fading as they retreat to the north. G-Unit is left alone in the dining hall with the rapidly-deflating corpse of Rundarr.

Victory! 675 XP (135 each) Action point for everyone but Glock (since he took a nap)

What kind of toxic man-thing is happening now?

Aw, I wasted the action point.

"Well gen, gag's a wrap! Good gob, everygoby!"

The surviving Duergars turned tail and retreated towards their so-called barracks. Cal felt gratified that they took his advice, but the mention of artillery disturbed him a little.

Still, it's looting time - money-grubbing Cal's most favorite event of all! Battles are a tedium, but the rewards are sometimes worth it. First things first though - he attends to his injuries.

Spend 1 healing surge.

His jaw set tightly back into his skull, the changeling skips over to the provisions he dropped while masquerading as Delic. At the very least, he could upgrade his humble longsword into something more useful in combat.

Cal methodically gathers up the spoils into one pile, and, including "Delic's" currency in the calculation, takes a sixth of the gold.

Take Delic's Amulet of Health, Potion of Healing, and Lifedrinker's Bastard Sword. Take 1/6 of GP spoils.

He'd take that shiny symbol of excellence, were he really dedicated to the god "Delic" worshipped. Still, more religious members of G-Unit might be able to make better use of it.

He was most intrigued with the beard quill darts used by the duergars earlier, and pauses to examine their suitability as a projectile weapon. Stopping by Rundarr's corpse, he unceremoniously kicks it around and plucks the arrow sticking from the eye socket. Waste not want not, that's what Ma Cal always used to say, though sometimes his Ma's his Pa and his Pa's his uncle. It's complicated.

Evaluate suitability of Beard Quills and 16 Kruthik teeth for use as improvised arrows. Retrieve arrow embedded in Rundarr's skull.

FELIPE NO

Glock somberly walks towards the door wreckage and checks to see if Murray is alright, buried under all that crap.

Retrieve Murray if he's still in one piece.

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

Gordok gathers up his and Glock's share of the winnings and deposits them in a slot on his robot buddy labeled "Awesome Meter". Looks like we'll be good for the next two hours.

The halfling eyes the changeling suspiciously. He is not sure if want.

Jam it back in, in the dark.

From the corner of his eye, the changeling sees the halfling staring at him. Cal's not sure what's going on in the druid's head, though his gut tells him that there's equal parts fascination and ... longing?

An uncomfortably hot blush spreads through his face as he busily returns to studying the aerodynamic capabilities of dwarven facial hairs.

There's nowhere I can't reach.

Wrenching his jaw back into place, Cal goes about making an inventory of all the crap in his pack that he doesn't recognize. Some of it's probably worth keeping, if only to drag to a merchant. That armor's staying on the floor, though. He can barely lift it.

Most of the beard quills Cal can find are lodged in either Garrmondo's shield or the walls, what with the duergar having died altogether too quickly to grow new ones. Cal knew enough about natural toxins to realize that the quills were more or less inert, having deposited their poisons already. Still, if a live duergar could be captured and his intact quills harvested — but that's thinking too far ahead.

These kruthik teeth, though! Kruthik mouths were one of the filthiest, most germ-laden orifices in the natural world. Strap these to an arrow and you could conceivably infect someone with any number of toxins. If Cal had any straps, that is. Or some glue, maybe. Paste? A very small clamp?

Beyond the obvious biological plunder, there's also the question of Rundarr's magical boots. But who has the courage to risk the terror of a duergar's unshod feet? Not Cal, oh no. His mother/father/third cousin/indeterminate didn't raise no dummies.

Glock frowns a remorseful frown, digging the battered shape of Murray out of the rubble that remains of the western doors. Murray's very much the worse for wear, bent so badly that his usefulness as a door bar is over. He is, however, bent at precisely 90 degrees... so now Glock has a protractor. Lemons, lemonade.

For his part, Garrmondo seems drunk on his own success. Or maybe his waterskin is a little suspect. It seems best to just give him some room.

How ya doing, buddy?

Cal's examination of the beard quills left him quite disappointed. It seems there was no further utility to be derived from quills already fired by the duergar. A pity; that poison would have been quite useful.

Still, he's not about to give up on biological warfare. Those poisons have got to be produced by some sort of poison sac. And by gum, if Cal can't use no poisoned beard quill, he might as well dip his arrows in dwarven viscera and see if they can pick up some venom.

With longsword, cut open Rundarr's torso and poke arrowheads into organs that might look like venom glands.

The kruthik teeth Delic salvaged were quite serviceable as toxin vectors, if only Cal can attach this somehow to an arrow shaft! He dismisses out of hand the prospect of using rope for the job.

But looking around, he brightens up. This room looks very much like a dining room, and where there are dining rooms, there are kitchens. And where there are kitchens, there are any amount of utensils and tools that can be used to extract gelatinous bioadhesives from dwarven skin, bones, and tendons!

Whacking off Rundarr's feet at the ankles (in case some brave soul would fancy a pair of stinky shoes), Cal sets about slowly dragging the mutilated corpse into a kitchen where he could boil the duergar champion to extract some glue.

Take Delic's flask, whack off Rundarr's feet with longsword and discard both. Drag body to kitchen, to extract glue by boiling Rundarr.

"Don't (huff!) mind me! (wheeze!) I'm holding a (gasp) weenie roast of this fellow. (puff!) You're welcome to join me (honk!) if you like!"

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

Gheth has sampled foods from across the continents, including a positively scrumptious variety of jam from the spice docks in Amhearst. The preserver's name was Toe, if he recalled correctly.

He has no qualms about inspecting the boots for usefulness or delicious treats, come what may.

Healing surge to full
Inspect/loot boots
Rest if party does, otherwise jog on
I mean, how long does it take to render a whole dwarf, anyway?

I was speaking idiomatically.

Still unsure to trust this new guy, while Gordok appreciates the gore and thriftiness he remains suspicious. His shaman who had taught him everything about becoming one with animal spirits had warned him of changelings. Something about 'em was never quite right.

Well acquainted with the table Gordok decides a short rest on top would be nice. His shaman had nothing but good things to say about tables. Maybe he'd dream of Grimace.

healing surge to full hp
take rest unless party wishes to move on

What kind of toxic man-thing is happening now?

Two calls for a rest, no real call to hurry on. Guess we might as well call a rest considering Zerg is going to boil a man's corpse. That seems like it might take a while. Kind of silly though. I remind you all that an extended rest takes a full 6 ingame hours, during which your adversaries do not just stand around looking at their watches.

Cal pokes Rundarr's guts with arrowheads, but to no apparent effect. The duergar doesn't appear to have any unusual organs in his trunk. Cal lops off Rundarr's feet, leaving the boots for inspection by the cleric, and drags the corpse off to the kitchen via the south door. The kitchen slaves are beset with a mixture of delight at the death of their cruel master — and abject horror as Cal explains his intentions.

Begging off, the kitchen thralls gather up the weapons from the dead duergar and head off in the direction of the Seven-Pillared Hall. The rest of G-Unit takes a rest, leaving Cal to take the first watch as he will be busy with his chemistry regardless.

After quite some time spent butchering Rundarr's carcass and ripping out his various tendons, Cal realizes he has no lime with which to extract the collagen nor any lye to treat Rundarr's hide with. These are probably small matters which Cal should have considred before getting elbow-deep in dwarf guts. How awkward.

Gheth examines the neatly detached feet of the duergar captain only to find nothing remarkable about the boots whatsoever. Whatever magic kept him in place must have derived from the ornate greaves he'd been wearing. Gheth hurriedly rescues the leg armor from Cal's distressingly enthusiastic experimentation with the butcher knives.



FELIPE NO

The duergar has been stewing for two hours or so when Cal realized that he lacked the necessary ingredients at hand to extract glue from the creature's hide and tendons.

How embarrassing!

How mortifying!

How amateurish!

Whatever would Unc Cal say when he sees him now?

No matter, what anybody doesn't know won't hurt. Cal feels certain that none of his compatriots are apt to sing about his fumbled exploits from the rooftops. But to let off steam, Cal is content to ruin a perfectly good piece of cookware by letting Rundarr continue to simmer in his own juices.

Utterly defeated in his attempt to extract any useful biological material, Cal plunges his longsword into the duergar's torso and plucks out his boiled black heart. It would make an excellent trophy, yes it will. He won't be needing his trusty longsword at any rate, what with his alter-ego having owned a much better one.

Carve out Rundarr's heart, squeeze into flask, and stash in pack. Remove longsword from inventory.

The rest seem to be resting from their recent exertions. For some reason, the cherubic face of the little halfling seems to stir up some long forgotten memory, though the sensation was quick to fade.

As the enemy is demoralized and is unlikely to attack, Cal takes the opportunity to scout the surrounding areas and hunt for any potential valuables. Still, he is careful not to explore past the northern door (S5), though he can't help taking a little peek.

Examine all surrounding rooms, and peek a little past S5. Request for map refresh.

Most amazing jew boots