Monday Monday, can't trust that day...



Last time, on Dragon Ball -- I mean, the game, the PCs had defeated abominations and a dungeon boss in the depths of a castle converted to a factory/laboratory. Due to the hour, the game had been ended at that point. We therefore join our heroes in the midst of an argument... over a notebook cover's color.

Aibghalien: It's green!
Wes: It's blue!
Rhuann: It's blue! (Placing a green M&M on the book's cover, which is significantly more blue than the M&M.)
Aibghalien: It's green! (Placing a blue colored pencil on the book's cover, which is significantly more green than the pencil.)

A pause.

Aibghalien: Colour out of space, aaaaagh!

The DM attempts to reassert his control by doling out treasure. In a basement/storage room area, the PCs find multiple bags of holding filled with magic items, Kevlar vests (really), and money! This money includes platinum, gold, silver...

DM: And one hundred twenty-two thousand, two hundred and twenty-two copper. (Glaring at Aibghalien) That's your own damn fault.
Aibghalien: Hey, I was going by the random treasure tables!
Devlyn: (Cheerfully misspelling cloaks) ...five clogs of protection...

However, loot alone cannot save the PCs -- the priestess whom they rescued in the previous battle informs them that the battle upstairs has finished and the minions are requesting a status report. After several predictable Star Wars jokes, the PCs start assessing their individual teleportation options. Devlyn eyes his, granted by the blood of a water-based god.

Devlyn: "...is there a sea nearby?"

Wes, meanwhile, is suffering many ill effects from his bloodtheft of the Manslayer, such as red eyes, magic swords, and the annoying screeching voice in his head.

DM: That he's even standing is --
Wes: Testament to his stubborn stupidity.

Determining that they're basically randomly teleporting -- or so the NPCs claim! -- the PCs gather together and let the priestess teleport them. They emerge on top of a skyscraper, topped with one of the omnipresent magical crystals. A sprawling modern-style city lies before them.

DM: (to Aibghalien) You don't know quite what it is, but something is off here. You can't feel the magic of the land anywhere. It's not painful, but it's unsettling... uncomfortable.
Aibghalien: Noncommittal grunt.
Devlyn: It's like putting on a pair of underwear that isn't yours.
Aibghalien: AAAAH!

The priestess gets the PCs an audience with the king of this land, who is also her father. He explains many things -- how technology came to replace magic as the magic-draining crystals were used, how all other races but humans had passed into the realm of fantasy and legend, how a seal dating from the deaths of the gods had protected our homeland until recently, but now had a weak spot which allowed these lands access to ours. Offering to aid us, the king said he would grant us a wish.

Aibghalien: "I don't know if 'wish' would be the proper term. You see, in our lands, a wish is actually a high-level spell designed specifically to rewrite the fabric of reality based on the utterance of a single sentence, grammatically proper but often including subordinate clauses..." (Aibghalien continues in this vein for several sentences, to the horror of the other PCs.)
DM: (as king) Fascinating. Please, do go on. I happen to have studied the arcane arts."
Aibghalien: "Theory only, I imagine." I roll a 34 on my Knowledge (arcana) check, I can go on like this for a while. Let's see what spells I can cast to impress him. (After a moment of surveying his depleted spell list, disgusted) Oh, I can run faster.

The king passes off to Aibghalien a special kind of crystal, one capable of returning magic energy to the land.

DM: "It can also be used to create crystals... but be warned. The creation of crystals is addicting."
Devlyn: Aibghalien's gonna become a crack elf!
DM: "Do any of the rest of you want anything? I can give you magic, provisions... not armies."
Wes: "Can you give me... uh..." (Brief pause) ...barbarian-speak for "more feats."
DM: "Yes, we can do that through genetic manipulation." A man approaches you and injects the contents of a syringe into your arm. Immediately you feel your mind expand.
Aibghalien: Their idea of genetic manipulation is to inject you in the throne room with a syringe without even cleaning the injection site first. Yeah, this isn't coming back to haunt you.

The king at last arranges for the PCs to return to Aibghalien's castle, and after one brief teleport spell...

DM: You appear in your castle, on top of your lieutenants.
Rhuann: Which one? He has four.
Aibghalien: All of them. They're having a party.
DM: The King is Dead party...

Previously, Wes and Aibghalien had called on the other rulers of Anuire to join under their banner to stand against the invaders. These lords had even now begun to arrive, so the PCs immediately ended up in diplomatic negotiations. Most of the lords joined up willingly, but the leader of a place called Avanil acted like a jerk, as everyone expected. Furiously, Wes intercedes in a fit of roleplaying.

Wes: "...easy for you to say! I don't see your men fighting and dying! You're here and able to bitch because we've held our lands, by the blood of our people!"
Aibghalien: That would've been much more impressive had you been able to keep a straight face while saying it.

Aibghalien led the lords in tactics and strategy planning. During a break, however, the lord of Avanil seemed inclined to approach Wes...

DM: I'm not the lord of Avanil at all! (Making a mask-removing gesture, then beginning to speak, but is immediately interrupted)
Rhuann and Aibghalien: Kael'thas Sunstrider?!
DM: (After a momemt's pause, attempts to quote Kael'thas Sunstrider from the encounter in the Eye, fails, gives up, and moves on to the lord talking to Wes) "I see your eyes have changed. I'd be interested in hearing how that happened.
Wes: Impassive glare.
DM: "Do you hear him, too? In your head?"
Wes: (Directly to the DM) Ah, he's got the blood too, huh?
DM: Well, I don't know if actually he has it in game, but I gave it to him.
Aibghalien: Shhhh, don't peel back the curtain!

The meetings conclude and the visiting lords retire to the guest quarters. The PCs, relatively genre-savvy, prepare for the inevitable attack. Rhuann wildshapes to dog form and patrols the corridors. Most of the guards seem relatively indifferent to the pooch...

DM: (as a random guard) "I'm gonna eat that dog!"
Aibghalien: Where do I employ these people?!

The attack begins. Sikon (remember him?) is the first to discover that the enemy has transported in, and with castings of True Sight is able to determine that nine invaders have entered; they're wearing technological cloaking suits, but have sufficient magic on them to be followed. Gathering up a couple of the other PCs, they venture on ahead to track the infiltrators. Aibghalien, meanwhile, guards the guest quarters.

Aibghalien: I unsheathe the sword that has Celestial Brilliance cast on it, plant the tip on the ground, fold my hands on the pommel, and look grim. And... hope that it doesn't come from behind me, because otherwise I'll look really stupid.
Wes: I come up behind him.
DM: Roll to resist the urge to strangle him.
Wes: I don't have that urge...
Aibghalien: Well, we need to psychoanalyze your childhood to determine the strength of the janus aspect of your personality and its dominance in your decision-making process as well as the strength of your superego relative to your pleasure-seeking behavior to determine the probability that you have that --
Wes: (interrupting) Reacharound!
Aibghalien: I'm alarmed that in this campaign that technique is rapidly approaching the level of a feat...

Wes catches up to the others, discovering that the intruders have barricaded themselves in Aibghalien's laboratory. The PCs split up, as Wes smashes through the door and the table barricading it, then another table or two as he eviscerates the intruders.

DM: You've finished them both off, and smashed a bunch of tables... there's one left.
Rhuann: Do it!
Aibghalien: No! My tables!
Devlyn: You know you want to.
Wes: (After a moment's pause, makes vigorous smashing motions) FUCK YOUR TABLE! Buy another one, ya rich bastard!

Rhuann catches an intruder laying C4 charges along the base of the castle, and follows him to observe his actions while in dog form.

Rhuann: I'm a nice friendly doggy!
Wes: It's a *dog* that plays *poker*!
Rhuann: That last box that he planted? I'm going to pick it up and take it to him like a game of fetch. "Rurf! Rurf!"
DM: He chuckles but he's not really amused, and attempts to take it back from you.
Rhuann: My wolf bites him in the butt.

Devlyn smashes through yet another barricaded door, crushing one intruder under a shelf, only to come under fire from the other men further away. He dodges hurriedly.

DM: You dodge behind the table with speed almost demonlike --
Wes: (Suspicious) Demonlike?
Aibghalien: (pointing at Devlyn) GET HIM!

Sikon tracks an intruder to the roof and casts Hold Person on him, then pauses and turns to the other PCs.

Sikon: "So, what should I do with him?"
Aibghalien: We're not there, we can't advise youtakehisweapons.

Sikon strips the prisoner naked, then flies up and promptly captures a gryphon. Devlyn smashes a table into the other intruders and proceeds to butcher them. Meanwhile Aibghalien has tracked one to the dungeon, where he's releasing prisoners. Wes shows up and goes in to mince him.

Aibghalien: "Watch the tables!"
Wes: "Why do you have tables in your dungeon?"
Aibghalien: "I love tables! Why, these are the finest tables, made of wood from the elven forests, and..." (He goes on like this for about three minutes, before Wes finally speaks again)
Wes: I'm gonna get the feat "Powerbomb." (Miming smashing someone through a table)
Aibghalien: "Powerbomb?! What kind of feat is that?!"
Wes: It's a *wrestling feat.*
Aibghalien: "You're a monster!"
Wes: I'm gonna light the tables on fire with my sword, first!

Rhuann and her wolf harass the man planting explosives mercilessly --

DM: As the man attempts to bite you away...

-- and succeed in injuring him severely, at which point he detonates the explosives. The DM describes in detail the damage to walls, up to the entire side of the castle being missing.

Aibghalien: This is because my skeletons smashed up his throne room.

Sikon attempts to fly to catch up with the other flying mounts that served as transport, but is not fast enough --

Wes: Quick! Turn into a Super Sikon!

--and so returns, landing on the roof of the castle. The other PCs have made their way to the outside with the guests, and are congratulating themselves on a job well done -- except for Devlyn, who's frowns as he does a quick count.

Devlyn: "That was only eight."
Aibghalien: "What?"
Devlyn: "That was only eight of them."

Silence.

Aibghalien: Shit, back inside!
DM: Damn!

They track the last one, more tricky than the others, through the guest quarters and begin disabling the bombs he left there, while Sikon scans the crowds outside with his magic.

Sikon: Am I able to track him?
DM: You think you see him in the middle of one of the groups... the one with the lord of Avanil's lieutenants.
Sikon: So Flamestrike wouldn't be...

The PCs dogpile on the last infiltrator.

DM: You knock him to the ground. He reaches up to pull off his mask, revealing --
Rhuann and Aibghalien: Kael'thas Sunstrider!
DM: God dammit, this is why none of my characters can ever wear masks again! He reaches into his pocket, pulling out a round sphere!

Recognizing a bomb with a dead man's trigger on it from an earlier encounter, the PCs hack off his limb, but still have the bomb to deal with...

Rhuann: I've got it in my mouth and I'm running for the woods!
Devlyn: (who, remember, is a ranger) Don't blow up the woods....
DM: The priestess and Golbez appear! You realize they haven't been here until now.
Aibghalien: Great, I ask HER to help with the bomb.
DM: She looks it over. "These are explosive devices."
Aibghalien: "That would explain why they explode."
Devlyn: (cracking up) ...ass.

With the infiltrators defeated, Sikon interrogates the leader with Speak with Dead, while the others hash out the loot distribution and mechanics of vassalage they're imposing on the other regents. Wes threatens to take on the title of Ceasar.

DM: I will have nine robed men surround you and start stabbing you with daggers.
Aibghalien: Yeah, but daggers only do 1d4, and he has DR...
Wes: (Miming daggers bouncing off his skin) Hey.... Heeeey, come on guys!
Aibghalien: "What the hell, Brute?"
Wes: "Et tu, DOGS?"

The DM awards experience, and the PCs settle to divvy up the loot and buy some magic items with their gains. Wes stumbles upon the Belt of Giant Strength +6, putting his Strength into the 30s.

Wes: (to Aibghalien): "I'll be as smart as you are strong!"
Aibghalien: I think you got that backw-- hey, what IS your Intelligence?
Wes: 11.
Aibghalien: Nope. I'm stronger than you are smart, I have a 13 strength.
Wes: Indescribable look somewhere between disgusted and heartbroken.

At last, with the session drawing to a close, the DM divvies out experience points.

Aibghalien: I still think Devlyn should get a bonus for counting.
DM: Yes, 500 experience for that... Wes, 500 experience for smashing tables.
Aibghalien: Hey!
Sikon: I got a gryphon!
Aibghalien: That gryphon is its own reward, buddy.
DM: I have to do some serious rethinking... I didn't expect you to *capture one of my gryphons.*