Last night we managed something entirely unprecedented in my roleplaying history: We finished a campaign, start to finish. By which I mean we completed the entire campaign arc -- from the moment when three regent PCs ventured onto the battlefield and met each other to the climactic conclusion. And it was damn good.



In the last game, the PCs defeated the Sword Mage (after enduring repeated castings of Vile Chain Lightning). I didn't write a game report for it because not terribly much quotable happened during it save for a gratuitous Homestar Runner reference (Mal: (to Matthias) You're in charge while I'm gone, The Cheat!), but it was a great and epic victory for all involved. Now, the PCs have teleported back to Barack's throne room...


DM: As you appear in the throne room on the wings of magic, you realize that everyone is there! Malabgheign! Turgos! Kyrie! Keibghn! Hendlar, make a Spot check!
Hendlar: Awwww. (Rolling his unskilled, penalized Spot check) I see nothing. There's blood and vile damage in my eyes.

The DM, through the voice of Matthias, informs the PCs that the dwarven armies have been moved through the portal to take positions to defend the castle. Matthias also states that he has visitors -- and he advises that Barack receive them in private.

Barack: Fine, whatever. Take them to the... uh, the meeting room.
DM: All right, who are you all taking?
Barack: Oh no! There's a traitor or something! He's asking us to be specific..
Eirien: Keibghn.
Barack: Matthias, Malabghein, Kyrie...
Hendlar: Dirk.
DM: Turgos?
Hendlar: Sure!
DM: So... everyone.
Barack: If there's a traitor, there'll be more people against the traitor--
DM: Unless it's everyone.
Barack: (Without a word, perfectly communicates full sentences with one disgusted look: "Why you even gotta suggest shit like that?")
DM: Mal, roll a spot check.
Mal: 28.
DM: Okay, not good enough! Matthias leaves to get the guest. A moment later he returns with the old guy -- the priest of Erik.
Grandfather: The one who resurrected me?
DM: Only now he no longer seems to be lighthearted or wacky. His face is lined with care and worry, and he seems unusually serious as he steps in the door.
Barack: (pointing furiously at the old man) Oh, it's hit the fan now! Bad shit is going down! The old guy is serious!

The old priest explains quickly that after the PCs had defeated the Sword Mage, the Gorgon had made a deal with the balor the PCs had encountered. In exchange for not destroying them, and helping them gain access to this world, the balor had given the Gorgon knowledge of not only where the blood he sought was, but how to regain it. Long story short: the Gorgon is a step below divinity, and now marches on the castle.

Barack: So of course, he's coming here.
DM: "When you defeated the Sword Mage, the Gorgon decided you all were the greatest threats to him in this world."
Barack: The world is fucked!
DM: "If he can take you out, he feels he'll have vanquished the one threat that can oppose him."
Barack: Barack is going to consult the strategy guide. (The player absently knocks a case of Coke to the floor)
DM: Well, you just created eleven bombs... Anyway, the old guy continues to speak. "But all is not lost! You will have powerful allies in your final battle! But on this topic I can say no more..." (trailing off mysteriously, as he looks around shiftily)
Barack: "You can't tell us."
DM: "I swore an oath!"
Barack: "Will your oath still apply when the world is destroyed because you kept to your stupid oath?!"
DM: "The world nearly WAS destroyed! That's why this oath was made!" Suddenly there's a crash from outside the door. (Adopting the tradition dwarven accent) "I never swore an oath!" The door bursts in. Through it comes a dwarven figure, or so you'd judge from its size and stoutness. Hendlar, you notice he's carrying an Axe of the Dwarven Lords, the most powerful dwarven artifact ever.
Barack: It's Hendlar from the future!
DM: He's followed by a tall, slender figure in robes, with a hood pulled low over the face --
Barack: Eirien from the future!
DM: --and a tall human figure in magnificent plate armor.
Barack: And me from the future! I'm just assuming all these guys are us from the future till I hear otherwise...

Barack goes off on a long, cynical rant, as is his wont, about the nature of the forces facing them, the things they need to do and have done, the nature of this mysterious help, and cynicism in general. The figures endure this rant until its end...

DM: The human speak. "There is no easy way to do this, so..." He reaches up and takes off his helmet, revealing... your father. Ander.

Silence.

Eirien: Oh shit it's the Emerald Queen!
Hendlar: Don't tell me... Grimm Graybeard?!
DM: "Right ye are, lad!"

Backstory ensues: the former rulers explain that Cerilia had been discovered by gods from other planes, the three of them had fought several of the gods and defeated most, but had died in the process. The power of the gods they had fought allowed them to ascend as avatars of three of the Cerilian gods. Now they had been sent to deal with the Gorgon and his demonic invasion forces.

Eirien: But what about the Emerald Queen?
Hendlar: Yeah, elves don't worship gods!
DM: "Yes, that was awkward. I'm avatar of Ruornil, god of Magic. He was evidently very impressed by my sorcery."
Barack: Wow, arrogant!
DM: (As Matthias) "Sir, there's one more person here to see you."
Barack: "Who is it?"
DM: "Er... the Master, sir."
Mal: (pops on his ring of invisibility)
Barack: "The Master? Did you get a name?"
DM: "Uh, Samhain, sir. The undead guy?"
Mal: (double-timing it away)
DM: "He's brought a peace offering. Do you want to go to him, or shall he come to us?"
Barack: "He's here, let's go to him."
Mal: I'm getting on a horse and riding off, uh, is anybody stopping me?
DM: As you start to get on the horse you find a note in your pocket.
Mal: A note?! In my pocket?! (accusatory) How the hell did I not notice someone putting a note in my pocket?
DM: YOU FAILED A SPOT CHECK!
Mal: (stunned and horrified)
DM: YES! Woo! Three points! Perfect shot!

The note is from the Thieves' Guild, summoning Mal to do their bidding. Mal goes and is promptly escorted back to the guildmaster, who wants him to gather all the information on Barack's defense plans. Mal vacillates, aware that he doesn't want to anger the Thieves' Guild but not wanting to do this.

Mal: "All right, I'll try to do what you asked of me."
DM: "This isn't a request. It's an order from your guildmaster."
Mal: "...just keep pushing me. Just keep pushing me!"
DM: The guildmaster turns to the papers on the desk, shuffling them about. It's a sign that you're being dismissed.
Mal: "Is that all you do? Just shuffle papers on your desk?"
DM: "It was a sign you're being dismissed. Are you leaving, or shall I have the oily Pringles men escort you out?"
Mal: "Ooh, the oily Pringles men, I haven't seen them in forever!"
DM: Okay, the door opens and two oiled-up bare-chested goons come in. Each take you by a shoulder and they drag your unresisting form out.
Mal: Wha -- hey! Oily Pringle Men and their bean-counter guildmaster! I oughtta stab one of them.
DM: Your dagger fails to reach their skin! The oil is too thick!

Meanwhile, Barack is counting up the loot so shares can be distributed to everyone.

Barack: ...the greatsword that shoots spikes, masterwork leather armor, a short sword plus 2...
Grandfather: 500 pounds of cocaine...

The avatars explain the plan: They will substantially buff the living units, then engages the Gorgon personally when he enters the fray.

Barack: "You mean someone will be doing something for us?! I'm asleep. I must be dreaming. This doesn't happen!"

The Master states he will supply several units of potent spell-casting undead. Barack suggests these units stand in front of the main forces (the dwarves) as expendable.

DM: Are the dwarves okay with hiding behind the undead?
Hendlar: Hell yes.
Barack: We have the avatars of the gods on our side, so... (glaring at the DM I'm assuming that plot devices will be on our side, dirtbag.
DM: Oh, Grandfather, by the way, the avatar of Erik is able to tell you how to summon celestials, so you can get that spell you wanted.
Grandfather: The old guy is the avatar of Erik?!
DM: Uh, yeah? That's kinda been established.
Grandfather: Oh. Grandfather got kind of lost there...
DM: I thought the fact that he was able to resurrect you with no penalties or difficulties would've been a clue that something was up!
Grandfather: Actually I just figured that was DM BS.

The day of the battle dawns. The DM draws the outer walls of the city, and bids the players set up their units, as he sets up the opposing forces amongst a hail of flavor text. The avatars liberally buff the living units -- then Erik's avatar imprisons the Gorgon within a wall of massive trees, as the avatars head to engage it. The Gorgon's units begin to advance forward. Several weaker units are taken out immediately after a volley of fireballs from the caster-skeletons and Eirien. Grandfather disables a flanking unit of worg-riders with Plant Growth, while the melee fighters disable a few stray demons that make their way to the walls.

DM: Mal, make a Will saving throw.
Mal: Shit.
DM: You're compelled to slip on your invisibility ring and walk away. Your mind is no longer your own. After you get about 100 feet down the walkway... the control snaps, just in time for you to make an opposed grapple check.
Mal: (mathing out the numbers for the check, which he promptly fails)
DM: You're gripped by a massive hand of force. The Master appears in front of you, gripping a dagger. You notice the blade is oddly shiny, even watery, like you've never seen before. You have once chance to escape before he coup-de-graces you.
Barack: (making a Spot check) I'm running that way!
DM: Okay, but you won't get there this round... (checking Mal's score against the hand's) You squirt out of the hand. The weapon plunges into your chest, but misses your vitals. Instead of blood, insects begin crawling out of the wound.
Barack: Oh, I've been saving this one!

(Barack smites the Master for buckets, knocking him to the ground and disrupting his casting. Mal disarms the Master, scooping up the unusual dagger.)

DM: "If I go, I'm taking you down with me!"

(The Master Enervates the two heroes for 3 and 4 negative levels respectively. Barack smites him again. Mal's foreign bloodline compels him to use the dagger on the Master's skeletal corpse, stealing not only his blood strength, but his spirit as well.

Meanwhile, the battle goes well for the heroes. Grandfather attempts to fly closer to the battle on his pegasus, only to be engaged by flying spiders. An area dispel succeeds and the spiders plummet to the ground below. The Gorgon's forces are all but shattered, when abruptly the last of the trees fall -- and the Gorgon strides out, tossing the battered bodies of the avatars onto the city walls.

DM: "You have ten minutes." The Gorgon folds his arms to wait.

A long moment of silence.

DM: (as Barack's father) "Take it." He offers his weapon to you. The Emerald Queen offers Eirien her staff, and the old guy offers his staff to Grandfather. Grimm Graybeard says, "Lad, we're in a bit of a spot here."
Grandfather: Wait, what's going on?
Barack: They failed and now we have to pick up the pieces.
DM: "Moradin never died at Deismarr. There's no blood of his in Cerilia. I don't know if I c'n give you his power." The voice in the back of Hendlar's head speaks. "I can take the power! I can use it! But you must give yourself over to me!"
Hendlar: "I'm willing to try!" I take the axe.
DM: You get no surge of power like the others. The axe shocks you for... 1 point of damage. "You must give in to me! It is the only way! You will overthrow the Gorgon and then the name HENDLAR will be written large in the histories!" Barack, Mal, you're back for this. Hendlar, you notice the dagger Mal is holding is very shiney.
Hendlar: ...I give the voice control.

Horrified pause.

Hendlar: But not completely!!
DM: The blood surges forth in you! Roll a Will save! Everyone make a Sense Motive check. (Much success later) You all are certain Hendlar is no longer in control of his actions. Barack, you notice the dagger Mal is holding is very shiny.
Barack: (finally getting it) He has to commit bloodtheft on Grimm Graybeard!
Mal: Okay, I put the dagger in his hands, then everybody grab him and move his arm --
Barack: No! I tell Hendlar that this is something he's got to do himself --
DM: ...actually, just moving his arm to make him stab would work, in this case...

Hendlar commits bloodtheft on Grimm Graybeard -- and abruptly the four PCs are engulfed in brilliant, heavenly light. Mal, not to be outdone, is abruptly imbued with the power of a god, stemming from the mixture of the Master's spirit and the foreign blood strength within him.

DM: The Gorgon is still standing with his arms crossed, awaiting your surrender.
Eirien: I point my staff at him and cast Fireball. Here's my answer!
DM: All right, you cast a Extended Enlarged Widened Heightened Maximized Empowered Fireball. That's 150, but he saves for half.

Stunned silence.

Grandfather: Grandfather's gotta try this!

Grandfather unloads another potent spell on the Gorgon. Mal backstabs him.

DM: "This?! This is your answer?!"
Mal: He's just saying this now? I thought the fireball would've been pretty obvious...
DM: "I'm sorry, I just got initiative!"

The gaze attack instantly turns Mal to stone. The other PCs move to engage, though the melee have to get off the city walls first...

Hendlar: We leap off the gate, and break our knees on landing. Our fight is over.
Grandfather: I cast Stone to Flesh on Mal.
DM: Okay, Mal, make a Fortitude saving throw... roll a one!

Horribly, Mal DOES. Even the DM is shocked, while Mal shoots him a look that comes close to hospitalizing him.

DM: Okay, you turn back to flesh, but... you're dead....

Hendlar's Axe of the Dwarven Lords and Barack's Holy Avenger, along with Eirien's spells, begin chewing through the Gorgon with alarming speed. The Gorgon unleashes powerful attacks against the melee, dealing substantial damage to them, but takes more on the next go-through, including a Harm from Grandfather that does 75 points of damage after save. Furious, the Gorgon smashes a Time Stop orb, heals, and buffs himself to high heaven by the time the spell expires and he returns to face them. Eirien counters with Mordenkainen's Disjunction, wiping all of his buffs clean, doing nothing to the party -- and even aiding Mal, whose link to the god was disrupted, letting his original bloodline return to strength and restoring some minute amount of life to his battered body. Furious, the Gorgon inflicts 60-odd damage on the entire party with a whirlwind attack, dropping Eirien and leaving the other three severely injured at best.

Grandfather: I cast Mass Heal.

Eirien manages to inflict 12 points of Wisdom damage on the Gorgon -- so his next action is a very foolish and nasty one: snapping a Staff of the Magi in a retributive strike...

DM: That's 400 points of damage to each of you. But you have a chance for one last action before it hits.
Hendlar: I swing my axe and let out a roar.
Mal: I'm jumping out of the way, dammit!
Barack: I'm getting in one last attack. If I go down I'm taking him with me.
Eirien: One last spell!
DM: Okay, here's how it goes down. Eirien's spell fails to penetrate his spell resistance, unfortunately. Mal leaps practically into the clouds with an amazing jump. Hendlar lets out a roar of massive strength and power. It's so forceful that when it collides with the explosion it actually pushes the explosion away from the sheer strength of his vocal cords. Barack slices his sword, imbued with holy energy. It cuts the explosion in half, and when the brilliant light fades, you see it's cut the Gorgon in half too. The two halves collapse to the ground -- but even as you watch, they begin healing.
Barack: How do we kill this guy?!
Grandfather: I cast Divination!
DM: As soon you cast it, Erik pops into your head.
Grandfather: I ask him how to kill the Gorgon!
DM: "Sacrifice."
Barack: Okay, I reverse the weapon to aim it at myself --
DM: "Not of your lives! That would be stupid!"

A moment's pause.

Barack: We have to give up our godly powers, so when we come back to this campaign, we won't have them any more.
DM: (sighing) He gets the right answer for horribly meta reasons...

The PCs each drive their weapon into the Gorgon's corpse, sacrificing their power for victory. In a blinding column of light, the Gorgon is slain for all time, leaving the PCs victorious on the field of battle. After a long, hard campaign, after so much time and effort, all that is left... are bragging rights.

Mal: Who smoted Samhain?!
Barack: I did, motherfucker!

And scene.

In two weeks time, we begin a new campaign. This one is closed, but someday it shall be revisited. That I promise.