A new player approaches! Ashta, pronounced OSH-tuh, has arrived and is in the midst of equipping his character with various items and goodies with his 7,000 starting gold. (Somehow, walking in the door at the exact moment three people were holding drawn swords had not scared Ashta off, which is both odd and promising.)Iglar cheerfully explains that 4d6 drop the lowest versus 4d6 drop the lowest reroll ones is only an average different of two points. Sargassas makes several rolls just to complain, as is his wont. The DM awards experience for two sessions of adventure and roleplay, which baffles Iglar. Sargassas takes credit for their roleplay bonuses. Iglar proposes that Sargassas load them out with Resist Elements to fight the dragon, but Sargassas figures even that isn’t enough to survive unless they kill the dragon before its second breath. The DM openly laughs at the thought. The DM uses the wrong word.

DM: You also got a good-roleplaying surcharge.
Dian: Surcharge?! We lost XP!
DM: Yes. Wasting my time with your roleplay. How dare you. That was valuable dragon-slaughtering time, by which I mean the slaughtering of you by the dragon.
Sargassas: That would be a horrible DM that subtracted for roleplay. “Here’s 1500 experience for fighting the dragon, and minus 500 experience for roleplaying.”
Dian: “What level’s your group at?” “Three.” “How long you been playing?” “EIGHT YEEEEEEEEEEARS!”
Sargassas: We just couldn’t learn not to RP. By the end of the campaign it just turns into “Hello sir, where is the dragon or zombie you need us to slay?”
DM: You have Spot checks! PENALTY!

The fascinating concept of a table leaf is explained to an oblivious Dian. The group has a chance to talk amongst themselves.

Dian: Oh yeah, we’re in the undead place still.
DM: You thought it was all a bad dream.
Iglar: (to Sargassas) “I think you might have been right.”
Dian: I forgot going back.
Sargassas: “Really? Is coulds nots tell. But we are here, and the problem is ours to solve. We cannot back out now, mostly because we cannot.

Sargassas has to meet with the priestess soon, and it’s established that the priestess will come alone, but Sargassas had no stipulations on who he could bring. Khoriane taunts the DM by eating his Chex Mix.

Iglar: Iglar’s feeling depressed. He starts drinking a little bit early.
Dian: How long has it been since you’ve smacked something?
Iglar: He’s going to want to smack the red dragon pretty soon.

Dian takes a moment to consider the lessons of the game thus far.

Dian: Spot checks you can let go, and it doesn’t really come back to bite us in the butt, but a Listen check that’s failed? Oh yeah.
Sargassas: Next campaign he’s gonna come in, we’re gonna have big X, Y, and A buttons on the table, and every now and then it’s gonna flash up, you gotta hit X or you automatically fail the Reflex save.
Dian: Aww, yeah, Quicktime events.
DM: That’d be great!
Dian: Like that “try not to fart” game.

The conversation wanders to video games as they stall for Ralth a bit more. The DM finally begins a minor event.

DM: Did you guys return to your quote-unquote inn room?
Iglar: Yes, we did.
DM: Okay, as you approached it you notice that stuck in the door is a knife that is pinning a note to it.
Sargassas: Again?!
DM: Same note and everything.
Sargassas: “This door will be destroyed!”
Iglar: It’s the same note?
DM: Yes, it’s the exact same note.
Iglar: He didn’t bother to write a new note?
Dian: You gave him the note back. After you snapped his dagger.
Sargassas: I thought we went through this! Oh no, we gave it to him and he ran back to our apartment, he didn’t even like go back to his. “Let’s keeps doing this and then we gets more free knives!”
Iglar: It’s not any good, I mean the knife is just like a crappy knife, right?
Khoriane: I don’t think he’d give us a knife that was any good.
DM: It’s crappy.
Khoriane: It’s not like he’d just give us a magic knife.
Dian: There’s nobody else here, let’s just switch rooms.

Sargassas hears faint sounds outside, which he thinks might be troop movements. Acting on Dian’s earlier advice, the group heads outside to investigate. They find, in the street, a group of undead in a Roman Legionnaire-style outfit, doing badly at troop evolutions, under the command of the old champion. Ralth arrives!

DM: Clearly the undead are not having a good time of this. It’s apparent as you look at them that not all of their movement speeds are equal any more. So their attempts to march forward tend to break up into a faster pack of skeletons and a slower pack of zombies.
Iglar: Oh, no!
DM: They’re sort of shambling as well, the zombies, so it’s not going too well. They can do all the orders perfectly so it’s clear at one point they had military discipline going on, but adjusting to life as the living dead has not been kind to their cohesion as a unit.
Sargassas: Faster skeleton groups and slower zombie groups.
Dian: Means when this gets ugly we CAN cut our way out.
Sargassas: Means a looot of zombies.
DM: After a moment the champ hurls down his spiked chain in frustration. “This isn’t working! All right, we’re gonna have to rethink this whole army thing, and fast! Bureagard!” “Yes sir!” You’d swear to god this was a gnome skeleton.

The players just keep giggling over Bureagard, who reminds them of Mattias from the Birthright campaign.

Iglar: Iglar watches dispassionately. He’s no longer that interested. The wheels of his mind are spinning. They’re gonna settle somewhere, but they haven’t yet.
DM: It’s like the frickin’ Wheel of Fortune, but instead of price numbers there’s only, “Drink”, “Smash”…
Dian: “Bankrupt.”
DM: Iglar would like to buy a vowel.
Sargassas: Burst through a door with beer!
Iglar: That plan made sense!
DM: Ralth, I want you to give me a Spot check.
Ralth: 19.
DM: Looking behind you, just as a routine glance, you notice something in the shadows of the inn. Looking carefully you realize it’s the elf. He’s creeping towards you, clearly thinking that he hasn’t been spotted, and that he’s the master of subtlety and stealth.

Establishing that he’s separate from the group and not in a crowd, Ralth saunters around a corner, breaks line of sight, and hides. Ashta inquires about an item price from the DMG; the DM produces the book and opens it to exactly the right page.

DM: I give myself 300 experience. You see all the undead abruptly – become… stronger… (trailing off into a weak-voiced coughing fit) Damn you Rice Chex! It levels them too, shit!
Sargassas: The world begins to crumble as the DM dies!
Dian: 300 XP, I think not. That’s even more paltry than the sums we receive.
DM: They were very close… to DM-killing levels.
Dian: They all have Great Cleave and vile Chain Lightning… and they ride ADAMANTITE RAPTOOOOOOORS!

Ralth rolls a natural 20 on the Hide roll as he ducks into an alley.

DM: The elf is being obligingly nice to you by rolling crappy. You duck behind the refuse of an old giant barrel column that has just been tossed into the alley until someone can get around to cleaning it up. After a moment you hear a “tch-tch thump!” Peering around the column slightly you see the elf pressed up against it on the other side in the shadow it’s casting, completely unaware of your presence behind him. He’s peering around as if looking for you, but not in the direction you are, he’s looking out in the street.
Dian: Do you have a sap?
Ralth: I do. Do I do subdual damage or do I just… threaten him?

There’s some debate among the players, despite the other characters being nowhere near and not at all aware, let alone communicative. For some reasons Sargassas is off on a tanger about domesticating foxes. The DM tries to pick the action back up by indicating the elf will soon move. Ralth elects to follow him.

DM: He continues to sneak along, creeping cautiously along the outskirts of this street. You’re not even sure who he’s hiding from at this point. He’s moving on, still intently scanning the street.
Sargassas: At one point he actually passes the inn, and we’re just standing there.
DM: No, he’s on the other side of the street. You guys are being distracted by the champion throwing down his spiked chain in disgust.
Ralth: Modified 20 on my Move Silently check.
DM: You’ve got no problems, I’ve rolled his checks, and it’s like… (looking around blindly) “I’m so clever.” He can’t hear you over his own internal monologue.
Dian: You just could’ve stood right up to him and he would have fumbled his weapons out of his hands.

The elf mutters in elvish, which Ralth doesn’t understand. A brief conversation in ‘Thieves’ Cant” erupts amongst the players. Dian begs them to stop.

DM: Anyway, you’ve got perfect position on him, you could not ask for a better – if this guy was a millionaire you’d be set for life from this one haul.

Ralth swipes his coin pouch, then wonders if he can steal the armor off his body.

DM: You have his coin purse. It’s surprisingly weighty.
Dian: It’s lead. Lead coins.
Ralth: Who carries lead coins?
Sargassas: You didn’t get his purse at all. You got… a bomb sack.

The elf heads back to the shrine. Ralth ponders his next move, but decides to call it a day there. He returns to the group, showing off his coin purse – which is fat! 15 platinum, 40 gold, 60 silver. There is also a document pouch, which the players cheerfully open.

Ralth: I think we should move this in private.
Dian: To the reading room!
Ralth: To the buttery! Get some milk, some butter, maybe some cheese…
Iglar: You made Iglar hungry.
DM: Iglar? Or Iglar’s player?
Sargassas: Both.
Iglar: Iglar’s player was already hungry.
DM: Ha ha, well played.

All of the documents are written in elven save for one in halfling. One has the seal of a guild they do not recognize; it’s a condescending rejection letter. The group immediately believes it’s the Assassin’s Guild. Sargassas randomly tries to convince everyone that no-calorie iced tea has 20 grams of fat. The group moves to the next letter.

DM: It’s actually a series of documents. Each of them appears to be a rough draft of a letter, which, rather than discard for potentially being incriminating, he foolishly kept on his person, as if that was somehow a better idea. Each of them seem to be a vague threat or other… blackmail sort of thing, in which he will reveal the name and identity of one of their members if they fail to let him in.
Khoriane: Are there actual names there?
DM: No, it’s very subtle. He actually did take the time to think this out sensibly. It’s just the whole follow-up…
Dian: Too bad we can’t get him in trouble with the guild while we’re down here.
DM: The halfling-written letter is very short and very blunt.
Ralth: “You suck.”
DM: “I’m not certain whether your stupidity in threatening me was huge balls or tiny brains. You come to me this moment or I will see you dead and hanging from the top of the tallest tower, in the tallest building, in the tallest city, in the tallest continent.”
Sargassas: Ah… New England.
DM: Actually, Ralth, you recognize this sort of terminology. The halfling empire is really quite proud of their elevated city, being as its large tower, the greatest tower of it being the airship tower…
Khoriane: (to a choking, shaking Sargassas) Don’t die, Sargassas.
Sargassas: (weakly) I just find it funny that these halflings have a thing about being tall…

Sargassas renames halflings ‘two-bite treats’. The DM points out that the letter writer was clever, but probably expected the recipient to burn the letter the moment he got it.

Ralth: “So we’re dealing with a dangerous priestess… and an idiot thief.”
Dian: AKA wannabe assassin.

The group speculates about the revealed information. Dian speculates that he’s the weakest member of the Ginyu Force. Sargassas, however, must meet with the priestess – so naturally the entire group goes. They take seats at a table freed of debris and wait. The priestess shows up in a low-cut dress and with a beautiful smile. Dian guesses Charisma 20. Khoriane points out her own Charisma 20. Sargassas calls for a catfight but Iglar gets to wondering…

Iglar: How is Khoriane attractive? Is she, like, cute, is she cuddly, is she… just lovely?
DM: Iglar, hand over some peanuts.
Khoriane: Considering I’m a warlock, I’m, uh… she’s probably neither cute nor cuddly…
Iglar: (awkwardly picks a handful of peanuts out of the bag, then ponders how to get them to the DM, who is some distance away)
DM: (wearily) Pass me the BAG of peanuts.
Iglar: That IS the simplest solution, I suppose.
Khoriane: She’s a cuddly little ball of carnage.

Iglar compares Khoriane to Bun-bun from Sluggy Freelance. Sargassas attempts to justify his not-very-secret human (or elf) fetish. The DM now has peanuts, and so hauls the characters back from their tangents. The priestess is pretty up-front about everything – and she is also very aware of their comings and goings and doings.

Iglar: Iglar is brooding.
DM: She’s got boobs, Iglar! Boobs!
Iglar: He’s too upset for that.
DM: Wow, it is serious.
Dian: I’m not sitting next to him, am I?
DM: Make a doppelganger check, quick!

Sargassas and the priestess debate the validity of the “normal” animation the undead went through versus Animate Dead. Iglar perks up enough to use Sense Motive on her when she references the undead being created ‘by accident’, but believes she’s telling the truth. The priestess proposes that both groups – (the DM is brought low by peanuts for a bit) – that both groups quit the kingdom for three days, so the undead can make their own choice. Sargassas complains about the elf, at which the priestess promises that the halfling, oddly named Bill, will have a word with him. She vows that she shall get the group past the dragon. No one can Sense Motive a lie out of her. The group asks if she will be repudiated if the undead reject her; she replies that they will always lie within her lady’s sphere of concern.

Iglar: At this Iglar can no longer contain his thoughts. He bangs his fist on the table and stands up. “What you don’t seem to understand is that this primacy, this domain is what will lead to war with this kingdom! This kingdom will be wiped off the face of the world, just like it was… however… whenever it was they got wiped out originally!”
Khoriane: Poor Iglar.
Dian: He’s on a roll!
Sargassas: “We all have people in our party—“
Iglar: (interrupting) “Now I seem to have talked to a bunch of them, and I seem to have told them, and I’ve gotten no response, so as far as I’m concerned they can all go back to hell and burn there!” He sits back down.
Sargassas: “It’s times I learns silence spell…”
Khoriane: I was planning on sitting on his shoulder, am I still there or did he knock me off? ‘Cuz I’m sitting there with my mace doing, “Sargassas, is it hitty time yet?”
DM: “Iglar, that is your name?”
Iglar: “Yes, yes.”
DM: “If I may speak… painfully candidly. As the high priestess of the Lady of Undeath, I can assure you from the depths of my heart, the enmity they are facing as the undead is no greater, and no less, than if they chose to follow the Lady of Undeath anyway. For the fact is, the other kingdoms will almost certainly assume, whether as a policy statement, or simple narrow-mindedness, that they are following her anyway.”
Iglar: (growls. Like, hardcore)
DM: “And… may I have a more personal discussion with you?”
Iglar: (over the snickering of the others) “With me?”
DM: “I’m a bit concerned about a few things I’ve heard reported.”
Iglar: “Really.”
DM: “Yes.”
Iglar: “Well… of course, I suppose, I can’t deny a lady a favor.”
Sargassas: She’s gonna bring up the boat trip!
DM: “You did WHAT?! With a cask?!”
Iglar: She’s like, “I heard about this boat…”
DM: “From what I hear, you don’t believe, or rather, you don’t worship any god.”
Iglar: “This is true.”
DM: “Why is that?”
Iglar: “I respect the power of the mind. My master taught me that all the secrets of the world lie there, and it is there my studies lie.”
DM: “Ahh, Iglar. I believe I’ve found a problem. It may or may not be correct that all the secrets of the world lie in the mind, I don’t know, I’m not a follower of that path. What I am concerned with is what lies outside of this realm. Do you know why almost everyone on this world chooses to follow the worship of a god?”
Iglar: “S’pose I never asked myself that question… like many other questions.”
Dian: “Why does grass go?”
DM: “Duuuh, where do babies come from?” (more seriously) “There’s a simple reason.”
Khoriane: Andraste’s flaming sword, I know where babies come from!
Iglar: Iglar’s trying hard to listen and not yawn.
DM: “It’s a matter of what happens after death. Those who believe are taken into the afterlife of their god or their goddess. Those who do not are cast into oblivion.”
Iglar: “And what is this oblivion?”
Sargassas: “The land of nonexistence.”
DM: “Nothingness. Or if you believe in alternate tales, your soul will drift aimlessly throughout the multiverse, without hope, ancient repose, eternal rest, or rebirth.”
Sargassas: “Sadly, both are impossible to return from. No one truly knows the answer.”
DM: “Well, I speak as a religious scholar. After all, when one deals with the undead as I do, one tends to wonder what lies… after this world. So the reason I say this to you, Iglar, is simply out of concern. As a priest, and as a matter of my own beliefs and my own faith—“
Dian: She’s pitching you the saaaaaaaaale!
DM: “I would rather see your soul go on to a rest no matter whose god you follow, rather than be lost forever.”
Iglar: Iglar starts to laugh. “Ha, I remember something my master told me about this! You know once he says to me, ‘Iglar… this is good wine.’”

After the group recovers from its laughter, the DM awards Iglar 10 experience.

Sargassas: Classic Iglar.
Iglar: “’Iglar,’ he says, ‘this is good wine. Life sucks and then you die. And then the sucking ends, but well, so long as we’re here, cheers!’”
Dian: Hear, hear.
Khoriane: Why don’t we get drunk and screw?
Sargassas: “Research.”
Iglar: “Sometimes I play the fool, but I have had my share of education, and there is a simple truth that my teaching holds to, and that is: Birth is no… less… no more… what was that? No more or less good than death. This life burdens us? Why would I want to live longer than was meant to? I will return to this oblivion you speak of happily. After all, I’m just a drunken half-giant, who needs me to stick around here longer than need be?”
DM: “Iglar, I speak this just out of what you just told me, and… you don’t have to do this, necessarily, it’s just a word of advice. When you get back to Guildhome or someplace that has a decent shrine, look up the clerics of the god of undeath— death!” I didn’t mean to say undeath, she said death – great I’m blowing it all! “Look up the clerics of the god of death. I think you might like what they have to say. At the very least, they have good wine.”
Ralth: Look at him. “Reaaally.”
DM: “In any case, I’ve said my piece, I’m sorry to burden you with this.”
Iglar: “No, no, I’ve got no burdens – you know, truth be told, at least once a day somebody in Guildhome gives me much the same speech as you just gave me… no offense, but not really original. ‘Oh what happens when we die, oh what’s gonna happen to ya Iglar, aren’t you scared of what’s gonna happen to ya after you die?’”
DM: “Well, I’d like to point out that my conviction in what I believe in is sufficient that I felt it a matter of religious necessity to give you this speech in the middle of the undead kingdom while we’re having a tense negotiation to determine the fate of it based on our own respective groups’ input. So take that as you will.”
Iglar: “I appreciate your concern.”

The group takes a moment to discuss the priestess’ original offer. Iglar asks Sargassas if the clerics of undeath have any honor (OOC: what alignment?) Sargassas advocates taking the offer. The two sides agree to leave after a night’s rest, stay away for three days, then meet at the front gates again. Sargassas asks if any lizardmen follow the goddess of undeath; the priestes reponds that she knows of one. Dian names that lizardman ‘Molasses.’ Iglar complains that he doesn’t have any information about Chatel’la in his religion packet.

Iglar: I don’t think everybody has the same gods.
DM: YES! I’ve established that! I busted my ass to create individual gods for you jackasses and you keep not noticing that.
Iglar: Then why do you blame me for not knowing who she is if she’s not in my packet?
DM: I’m NOT! I’m telling you to look in your packet and you will know what you were raised to know, unless you have Knowledge(Religion).
Iglar: Oh yeah, yeah.
DM: If she’s not there that means your people didn’t teach you about her—
Iglar: I know, that’s why I was asking Sargassas—
DM: --As you were a bitty half-giant growing up at your father’s knee, except when it benefitted you to be his size.
Dian: So what… there’s different gods in these packets?
DM: (beyond exasperated) Yes!
Sargassas: Just like the Romans and the Greeks had their own gods, except the Romans had to steal the Greek gods, ‘cuz the Roman gods sucked…
Dian: What is this shit?! This is DEVIOUS! Even for you this is underhanded!
DM: Under — what about underhanded?!
Dian: Un-der-handed!
DM: Why is it underhanded?!
Dian: You mind your fuckhole! AAAAAAAAAAGH!

Dian and Iglar fully expect the priestess to team up with the dragon. Sargassas demands they stay and RP till they reach the next level. The group explains the classic battle-under-the-table and the orog dungeon/temple to Ashta. Iglat attempts to load up on fire resistance, primarily by prodding Sargassas to do so. The party sleeps, then is woken by a THUNK on their door.

DM: Iglar hurries over and opens the door. Outside are the halfling, and the elf. The halfling is holding the collar of the elf’s shirt at his own shoulder height. The elf is sort of making choked sounds.
Iglar: “Good morning, gentlemen. Should I leave you a moment of peace?”
DM: “No no, he came here to give you a message.”
Iglar: “Oh, right right, but I think we already got that one.”
DM: “Say you’re sorry!” (garbled choking noises which eventually become a crude ‘sorry’) “Good.”
Dian: Halflings make the worst neckties.

The pair take off, or rather the halfling drags the elf off. The group heads outside to find a ton of the undead waiting for them.

DM: You hear a low murmur which raises into a cheer the moment Iglar steps out the door. “Yay Iglar!” “He’s gonna fight the dragon!” “He’s gonna fight the dragon!” “Get the dragon!” “Yay Iglar!”
Iglar: Iglar’s foul mood is gone in an instant!
DM: The crowd cheers frantically as Iglar blows his horn.
Sargassas: I’ll sneak into the crowd. (whispering) “I hear he’s gonna fight it alone.” (loudly) “I hear he’s gonna fight it alone!” (whispering) “With his bare fists.” (loudly) “WITH HIS BARE FISTS!”
Khoriane: “Hooray Iglar!”
Sargassas: (whispering) “And then he’s gonna eat its heart.” (loudly) “That’s kinda weird!” No, that’d be my thing… eating the hearts of the --
Khoriane: “Brains so tassstey!”
DM: You even see the old champ, who’s standing head and shoulders above the rest. “Get ‘em Iglar!”
Sargassas: “What are those others going with him for?” “Witnesses!”
Khoriane: “Moral support!”
Sargassas: To pull his dead corpse – I mean victory.
DM: “We’re gonna help the dragon so it’s an even fight!”
Iglar: For a minute, Iglar himself believes he’s gonna fight the dragon.
Sargassas: We all try to sneak out, and then Iglar sees the dragon. “Hey dragon! Raaaah!”
Dian: All of a sudden, Iglar turns into Don Knotts. “Yeah, that’s right, I’ll fight that dragon!”

The group frees itself from the crowd and heads for the exit.
DM: The four living beings that you’re aware of in this city are waiting for you at the bottom of the stairs that lead up to the main gate.
Iglar: I like how he said, “that you’re aware of”.
Sargassas: (indicating Ashta) Has he joined yet?
DM: No, not yet. I’m not going to bring him in to the undead city just as you’re leaving the undead city.

The priestess curtseys to them and leads the way out, at their insistence. Sargassas keeps getting more cannibalistic with every moment for the purpose of harassing the elf.

DM: As you being to rise up the stairs you hear a voice. “AH, THOU ART DEPARTING TODAY.”
Iglar: “Yes, hello, uh yes we are.”
Ralth: “Going on a… constitutional.”
DM: “IGLAR. DIDST THOU HAVE A REMATCH WITH A CHAMPION? HE HATH BEEN MOST EAGER.”
Iglar: “He didn’t ask me.”
DM: Yes he did!
Dian: Yeah he did!
Iglar: No he didn’t!
Sargassas: Yes he did!
Iglar: No he didn’t!
Sargassas: Yes he did!
DM: It was the first thing he said to you!
Iglar: I think he said he was kidding!
DM: No, that’s when he said he’d only give you the information you wanted if you had a rematch with him. Then he said he was kidding and answered your questions.
Iglar: Oh, I thought he was kidding about the rematch! My mistake. Next time!
DM: Well, at least that’s a misunderstanding entirely within Iglar’s sphere of influence.

The group bursts into mocking the DM for his age-old “Waaargh!” Sargassas plans to blow up the dragon with a thunderstone… somehow – then turns it into completely destroying the dragon’s eyes and ears. Eww. The stationed undead open the portcullis and the priestess heads out first to put into effect her plan to pass the dragon.

Dian: “Excuse me, may we please pass?” “Of course, anything for a lady.”
DM: “You asked nicely! That’s all you needed to do.”
Ralth: Off I go!

The DM calls for Listen checks; Ralth hears a faint “tink! Tink!”

Iglar: Iglar is fingering his javelin.

A pause.

Dian: …What did he say?!
Ralth: Not sure…?

The group snickers, except for the DM, who calls them perverts. The dragon flies around the mountain to intercept them.

Dian: It really was just waiting for us to come out.
DM: Yes.
Dian: What a poor… Doesn’t the dragon have a life?!
Sargassas: What’s he gonna do? It’s not like there’s a lot of lady dragons hanging around.
Dian: Which one of you shot him? You shot him, he’s just smarting over that.
Khoriane: He’s butt-hurt. Nothing like a butt-hurt dragon.
Dian: Freaking diva-dragon.
DM: “Welcome back! It will be my pleasure to escort you on the rest of your journey today…”
DM, Sargassas, and Dian: “TO HELL!”
Dian: That was in Draconic?
DM: Yes.
Ralth: Oh okay. I was gonna say, “which layer?!”

The dragon begins to circle around to annihilate the party with its breath. The priestess casts a spell; several people throw out Spellcraft to identify Hold Monster. Sargassas immediately goes to look up the spell in the PHB, irritating the DM to no end (since it’s a plot point that Hold Monster is not normally a cleric spell or one accessible to priests of the goddess of undeath).

Ralth: It fails, she’s like, “RUUUUNNNNN!”

The dragon smashes into the mountain above them. The party almost immediately decides to go up and maul the paralyzed dragon, but the DM points out that there is many a kobold up there. Focus switches to Ashta. As a semi-recent inductee to the guild (insert bashing of Alex here), Ashta is sent to provide emergency arcane support to the group. Sargassas begins mocking his own furor at the Cheese-It box last session. Through horrible ignorance, Ashta is teleported to the last-known location of the party: the old campsite now covered in bones and monitored by kobolds.

DM: Give me a Reflex saving throw.
Dian: Welcome to the game.
Iglar: Welcome to this GM’s game.
DM: What the hell’s that supposed to mean?
Ralth: Where your first roll is always a saving throw.
DM: Hey, I don’t think that’s entirely true.
Sargassas: YES IT IS! Yes it is!
Dian: The first thing that happened to me was I got charmed!
Sargassas: The first thing I did when I went to my room was a saving throw!
DM: No it wasn’t!
Ralth: We had a battle before that.
DM: Yeah, we had an entire battle by that!

Sargassas retells the tale of the group’s very first adventure ever, where a skeleton army invaded the lands of the Birthright regents. The DM brings the focus back to Ashta falling on his ass. The kobolds show up and attempt to shake Ashta down, which the group hears. At vastly different movement speeds they set off to save the day. Ashta refuses to throw down his goods and valuables, so numerous kobolds prepare to slay. The DM draws the map and sets out minis. Initiative occurs! Ashta rolls super-crappy! Luckily, Dian and Khori make it just in time to prevent Ashta’s crappy wizard AC from being the sole target of numerous kobold slings. Khoriane pews a kobold easily. Dian, discovering that none of the kobolds are on the ground, rolls a Jump check, hauls himself up, and clocks the kobold off the cliff to its death.

DM: Now the kobolds’ turn. They are raining vengeance upon you.
Sargassas: Oh no. 1d4 sling damage.
DM: Oh, you WISH it was 1d4! …it’s actually 1d3.
Dian: So… why do we wish?

The DM inquires about Ashta’s AC as he rolls.

Dian: A rock bounces off your skull, for a painful three points of da—I miss all your play-by-plays in other campaigns, man, I really miss that. Just so you know.

Squishy Ashta takes 5 point from 2 sling bullets. Dian is also targeted, but points out his monk ability to deflect a projectile a round.

DM: Three sling bullets from these four dudes here arc towards you with an almost reflexive yelp from the kobolds as they see you leap up and violently injure one of their members. (making a catching motion by way of describing what happens) “Ha ha! (describing with his fingers the path of a sling stone directly into his eye) “OH GOD! WHY?” As one of the sling stones scores a crit on you.
Ashta: Not the eye!
Dian: Aw man.
DM: You take a total of 8 points of damage from the slings. Two of them hit, one of them got you in the eye.
Dian: You like when little things beat me up, don’t you?
DM: I like when everything beats any player up.
Dian: Yeah, but you specifically – if they’re below two feet tall they WILL injure me severely.

One sling bullet strikes Khoriane for a point of damage. The other slays the negative hit-point kobold as the slinger botches. The bow-wielding kobold shoots Khori for 2. Khoriane returns fire for 12, which does not slay the bow-user.

DM: Dian!
Dian: Who’s that to my right?
DM: That’s another kobold.
Dian: He’s a victim.
DM: Make a Jump check to get up there!
Dian: (disgusted) It’s higher?
DM: That’s one higher, yes.
Sargassas: How higher?
DM: That one’s… 12 feet up.
Dian: How higher? How higher! Twelve feet – twelve feet?!
DM: Twelve feet. Twelve feet, twelve feet. Twelve feet. Twelve feet.

Dian fails to jump high enough due to not getting a running start, but with a Climb check he hauls himself up, to the kobold’s eye-widening horror. Ralth appears with a standard action to his name, which he burns to draw a weapon and curse the DM. The players take some time to roast the DM bitterly.

Sargassas: He’s trying to kill off our characters.
DM: I’m not trying to kill anybody! If I did these wouldn’t be kobolds, now would they?
Sargassas: Look at it this way, if they all got lucky…
Ralth: (dismissively) It’s his game and he wants to run it how he wants to run it.
DM: This is less of a threat than that army of like 30 skeletons Iglar threw at us.
Iglar: …the skeletons were poorly armed.
Ralth: Some didn’t HAVE arms.
Dian: Bronze weapons.
DM: These guys aren’t exactly on the high scale of damage output themselves.

A kobold attempts a bull rush on Dian, who gets an AoO. The group mocks the kobold’s efforts vigorously as Dian rolls a 21. Dian sidesteps the kobold, who plummets off the cliff.

Dian: We’re making a nice orderly pile! We’ll burn ‘em like Jawas when we’re done!
DM: (kobold voice) “You guys, get the little one! You guys, get the one that keeps killing us!” The kobolds concentrate fire!
Dian: Oh boy. Can I catch the crit stone, this time?

Khoriane takes one point of damage from the concentrated fire. So does Dian, after catching a bullet. Khoriane attacks, misses, reminds the DM it’s a ranged TOUCH attack, and hits after all.

DM: You see his head explode like a ripe melon as he collapses. Sargassas, you run into the scene, panting. “Stupids… hots mountains… not with the humidities… this sucksesss!”
Sargassas: Do not speak for my character. -200 GM experience.
DM: All right, I aware myself 300 experience to counteract that. Dah dah dah daaaah! I go up a level! You see all the kobolds gain one level of size.
Iglar: Are you sure you want to do that after what happened with the peanuts?

The DM realized he completely forgot to put Ashta in the initiative rotation because he’s not used to another name in said rotation. Embarrassed, he gives Ashta a turn with Sargassas. Sargassas gears up a monster summoning spell. As is tradition, the party bursts into a chorus of “Never Split the Party” while Ashta ponders options. Ashta pitches a lightning orb at a kobold.

DM: You all hear the ugly figure in the center speak several words of power.
Ashta: HE’S NOT UGLY!
DM: Charisma of six… a bolt of lightning, or an orb of lightning, shoots out.
This kobold, you see its skeleton in comical form for a moment before it collapses.
Khoriane: It’s not that he’s ugly, it’s that he’s an asshole.
Ashta: Yeah!

Dian jumps a minor gap so well the DM gives him a charge bonus on his attack. He rolls high to hit!

DM: Roll.
Dian: I wanna do just one Bruce Lee kick! Roll dor damage? When you’re not specific I tend to get suspicious.
DM: Roll to see how much damage you did.
Sargassas: (in the Monster Manual) Oh my God, where’s celestial eagle?! Or where’s this giant bee!

The group instructs Sargassas on reading the MM before returning to Dian, who rolled seven points of damage.

DM: You all watch in awe as Dian – (moving his miniature) FLYING KICK! He slams the kobold’s head, catching it solidly between his boot heel and the cliff. It BURSTS! Like a squashed melon—
Dian: (hysterical) This is Mortal Kombat all of a sudden!
DM: You kick off the cliff, do a backflip, and land lightly on your feet as the kobold corpse slides to the ground in a trail of blood.
Dian: Melons?! Kobolds are made of fruit! They keep exploding!
DM: You’re popping their heads like ones! (as Ralth moves his mini up directly behind Ashta’s) BACKSTAB!
Ashta: Nooooo!

Ralth slings a thunderstone into the midst of the kobolds. Rocks tumble from the cliffs. Two of the kobolds are deafened.

DM: You see one of them in the back. “RUN AWAY!” “WHAT?” “RUN AWAY!” “WHAT?”

A kobold runs like hell. Others sling! Dian takes 3 damage from a sling. The kobolds miss everyone else pathetically, except for Ashta, who takes 3. Khoriane misses; Sargassas summons a giant bombardier beetle, misreading the PHB badly enough to make the DM talk only through clenched teeth for a moment. No one can find a suitable mini for a moment. Sargassas whips out a heal, while the beetle acid-sprays the hell out of kobolds, who dies as the DM complains about his kobolds sucking. Iglar arrives on the scene! The DM allows him to have a weapon prepared.

Iglar: I was fingering my javelin way back at the cave!

The group erupts into snickers and crude jokes. Veeeeeeery crude jokes.

DM: Just hurl your frickin’ weapon! (giving up and joining in) Impale a kobold on your mighty long weapon!
Iglar: God dammit!

Iglar spies the kobold on the nearby rock and, after pondering throwing his weapon, attempts to stab him with the javelin. He rolls a 1.

DM: You thrust your javelin up, then change your mind at the last minute and hurl it. You weren’t certain what you were going to do, you just kinda went with the flow, but in this case it was horribly wrong.
Dian: Your javelin limply tumbles back…
DM: The kobold suddenly finds himself holding a very large javelin. “I’m finally holding another man’s weapon! It’s every bit as horrible as I dreamed!”

Ashta despairs at how far away a kobold is, but then takes a move action and casts a spell on the now-in-range kobold. An ice dagger strikes the kobold and slays it and does mild splash damage to some others. Dian leaps across the battlefield, doesn’t quite roll high enough, but catches the edge of the cliff he’d attempted to reach.

DM: Ralth -- (looking at the battle-map, and a random addition thereto) Why is there a table?!

Sargassas explains it’s actually the cart belonging to the Thunderstone vendor. The DM ignores this and instead adjudicates Ralth’s miss. The kobolds go, as the players wonder why they don’t run. The kobolds pelt Dian with sling stones for 5. Khoriane injures one. Sargassas’s beetle has nothing to do. Sargassas completely confuses characters amongst his stable, realizes he has a crossbow, and plinks away at a kobold. The deaf kobolds attempt to communicate and fail.

Iglar: Iglar is really pissed and embarrassed now.
Sargassas: He’s gonna destroy the mountain!
Iglar: What he’s gonna try to do is grab the kobold, then throw him down and stomp on him.
DM: What’s your armor class, Iglar?
Iglar: 17.
DM: All right, you reach out to grab the kobold. He reflexively jabs your own javelin into your palm. Even with the penalty for size.
Iglar: TWO size categories?!
DM: Yes!
Dian: How could he use a javelin?
DM: With a natural 20, that’s how.
Sargassas: I don’t think a natural 20 can save that, that’s kind of ridiculous.
Iglar: Makes sense, all right, I don’t mind.

Iglar takes one point of damage and his grapple is interrupted, as a successful AoO on a grapple attempt interrupts moving into the kobold’s square. The players hate the rules. Iglar declares it to be not his day.

DM: Ashta, you hear a really pissed-off half-giant behind you.
Dian: I don’t know if we’ll survive, if the kobolds die. Iglar’s gonna need to kill something.
Iglar: “At least let me have the beetle!”
Ashta: We’ll just go with a tried-and-true magic missile on that guy there.
DM: You-you kill him. It’s not an attack roll. Your magic missile is an auto-hit and he’s got no hit points left save, like, one, so you kill him. That kobold is dead. He never even heard it coming. He’s just standing there trying to figure out where everybody went and then all of a sudden -- (slamming his hand on the table) Dian, you haul yourself up only to see everybody else has done your dirty work for you.
Dian: (sighing) Wait, I can still make it over theeeeeere! If I roll a natural 40! Iglar punches me out of the way. “No, he’s mine! I will squish him like a grape!” “Iglar, you want that one?”
Iglar: “RrrrrrrrRRRRRRR YES!”
Ralth: I’m gonna hold my action!
DM: All right, it’s the kobold’s turn! Clatter, run run run run run. Iglar, you’ve got an attack of opportunity with a -4 penalty!
Iglar: Why minus 4?
DM: Because he’s got partial cover because of the angle you’re at.
Iglar: Well, he doesn’t have a weapon drawn, so he’s going to have to grab him again.
DM: You can do that!

Iglar rolls. The table erupts in groans.

Dian: I TOLD you that die was the fucking betrayer!
DM: Did you roll a 1?
Sargassas: GRAND. BETRAYER.
DM: Iglar, you reach up as you hear the kobold running away and promptly take two damage as you grab the pointed end of your javelin, curl your fingers into a fist, and drive it into the exact spot where it pricked you earlier.
Iglar: I’m gonna have a word with that javelin. Iglar’s just gonna sit down.
Ralth: Apparently you fingered it in the wrong place.

The others slay the kobold, to Iglar’s lasting shame.

Sargassas: While no one is watching me, I bend over the pile of bodies and proceed to eat a goblin.
DM: HOW DID YOU EAT A GOBLIN OUT OF A PILE OF KOBOLDS?!

Sargassas corrects himself and spends much of the game making much of his kobold-eating. Iglar ponders going to wrestle the dragon just to vent his fury. Ashta and the party introduce themselves. Khoriane demands running! The group furiously insists their long discussion is occurring while they were taking off – while Iglar searches the kobolds. The DM plays up the EEEVIL of the halflings to Ashta. Ralth dismisses this by showing his guild symbol and not caring, as usual.

Ashta: “Say, that was a… impressive battle prowess.”
DM: Iglar thinks he’s being mocked!
Ralth: “RAAAAAAAAH!”
DM: Iglar takes a level in barbarian!
Iglar: “Let’s just say it’s not my day to buy a lottery ticket.”

The group briefly explains the plot of the current adventure to Ashta. Sargassas suddenly is speaking much better Common. The other players mock the DM’s use of “whoof! Whoof! Whoof!” for dragon wings.

DM: Look, if you know a better onomatopoeia for wingbeats, I’d love to hear it.

Sargassas and Iglar begin to snark at each other over their experiences in the kingdom. Sargassas tries to make a point by analogy.

Sargassas: “I wants you to imagine we entered a city of ‘good’ green dragons. And these ‘good’ green dragons—“
Dian: “Whom do we serve? A ‘good’ blue dragon?”
Sargassas: “Let me rephrase this, then…”
Dian: “This is a party of walking contradictions. You’re a lizardman that doesn’t eat people… or so we’ve been told.”

Sargassas plays up human-eating again, leading to a series of Soylent Green jokes. (“Aww, from concentrate?!”) Sargassas tries for another analogy.

Sargassas: “A better one! We find a bunch of ‘good’ green dragons trying to resurrect the Dark Lord Bahamut!”

This is met with a long pause.

Khoriane: What?!
Dian: Huh?
Sargassas: Uh, whatever the lord of the dark dragons…
DM: I like where you’re going, how you’re completely confused on these human gods.

The party has successfully made it to the cover of the forest, and now is headed towards the human village from way back when. The DM calls for Listen checks. Khoriane rolls a natural 20.

Dian: What does she hear?
DM: Awk awk awk! Awk awk awk!
Dian: Vultures? No, it’s those rangers.
DM: Looking around you see a bigass crow in the tree, going “awk awk!”
Iglar: “Oh god, a crow. I hope I don’t have to fight it, I’ll probably lose.”
DM: You see Iglar like three rounds later, just coming back… “My eyes! It pecked out my eyes!”
Dian: The crow will have his javelin in its beak…
Sargassas: This is not an umbrella crow.
DM: “Awk awk!”
Dian: It’s probably a snitch crow. It’s probably telling the dragon where we are. “West!”
DM: “Overhere! Overhere!”
Dian: Exactly!
Iglar: “Sargassas, what’s a crow doing up there? Is it a suspicious crow?... or something…?”
DM: (finally losing it) IT’S A CROW! Do you have Knowledge(nature)?!
Ralth: It’s a carrion-eater.
Iglar: He’s asking Sargassas.
Khoriane: He DOES have Knowledge(nature).
DM: IT’S A FUCKING CROW!
Dian: We rolled a Listen check for just a fucking crow, of course.
DM: Remember that thing I said about honing a fine sense of paranoia in you?
Ralth: That’s a stupid-ass reason for a roll.

The party considers slaying the crow just to spite the DM. Sargassas rolls a Survival check for hunting (the crow), but only manages to drop a branch on several small mammals. Dian recognizes this as foreshadowing of inevitable starvation. Sargassas proposes eating the halfling kingdom, which Ralth regards with some skepticism. Watch schedules are very reluctantly assigned for the inevitable nightly sneak attacks.

DM: Fortunately for those of you with keener vision (or low-light vision), the moon is full tonight. You hear the howl of wolves crying out—
Iglar: Oh boy.
DM: --as your party slowly settles down to sleep, and the sounds of the daytime forest--
Ralth: And the flatulence of rams.
DM: -- are replaced by the sounds of the nighttime.
Iglar: The DM’s being quiet, shut up you guys!

The DM makes several noises indicative of nighttime creatures.

Ralth: “Hey guys, what’s going on?”
DM: Moooooooo!
Sargassas: Werecows!
Khoriane: Werecows!
Dian: Werecows?
DM: A full moon, don’t be alarmed by THAT, guys!
Sargassas: Ha, werecows.
DM: Hey, look, gnomes!
Khoriane: Noooooooooo.

Sargassas vows to eat gnomes. The DM calls for checks for the first watcher, Dian. He succeeds on his Listen check, hearing a rustling in the bushes as something creeps towards the camp. Dian, having been taught paranoia, calls out a loud challenge, waking everyone up. Dian encourages Khoriane to fire blindly into the bushes, explicitly stating he doesn’t care if it’s a ranger. Initiative is rolled so Khoriane to do just that.

DM: Ralth, as you prepare to go, from the bushes erupt two giant weasels!
Dian: (cracks up)
DM: Ten fucking feet long weasels that race forward towards Dian!
Dian: (still laughing helplessly) It’s too funny!
Khoriane: Dire weasels!
DM: DIRE WEASELS!
Dian: Ha ha ha, weasels! We’ve never fought weasels. Eveyrthing, it’s always something you would normally say was menacing, but at least – it’s – weasels!
DM: All right, these are ten foot long, seven hundred pound weasels.
Dian: Do we look like big chickens or something?
DM: Well YOU do, as they’re rushing forward to attack you!
Dian: Ah, I probably taste like chicken.

Ralth shoots a weasel with his hand crossbow for one point of damage. One weasel bites Dian, then latches on and drains blood for 4 points of Con damage.

Sargassas: Is it a… venomous creature?
Ashta: It is a blood-drinking vampire, a dire weasel.

Sargassas complains about the monk-vampire. Dian punches it.

Ashta: Hit it in the nose, I hear that’s effective against dire weasels.

Dian punches the weasel to death. Sargassas clocks the other one with his mace; Ashta magic-missiles it.

Ashta: What’s the damage of magic missile.
Iglar: (mumbling through a mouth of peanuts) 1d4 plus one per—per – per--
DM: Per every two levels.
Ashta: (staring at Iglar for a moment) Is that without peanuts?
Dian: (laughing)
Iglar: (after a moment) What?
Dian: (cracking up)
Sargassas: Take the peanuts out of your mouth…
DM: All right, you blast this dire weasel with arcane energy and it rolls over on its back.
Dian: Heh heh heh, it’s a weasel.
DM: You have defeated the dread dire weasels.
Iglar: “Why do I even bother picking up my axe any more?!”
DM: Iglar throws a tantrum!
Ralth: “Why why why why why?!”
Khoriane: Awww, Igwar sweepy.

Dian must roll more Spot/Listen checks, but detects nothing. Iglar steps up to watch.

Dian: “Please make sure nothing eats me.”
Iglar: “I’ll see what I can do.”
Dian: “The thing I didn’t see may try to eat me in my sleep.”
Iglar: Iglar’s gonna do a meditation to try and beat his bad luck. He’s gonna say, “Are these the gods I cursed earlier, are they trying to get back at me?!”
DM: Are you actually sitting out there yelling…?
Ralth: “Shut up! SHUT UP! I’m trying to sleep!”
Iglar: No, it’s internal monologue.
Sargassas: Just say that your inner monologue uses your mouth.
DM: Give me a Spot and Listen check.
Dian: How is there even a village in these woods, if they’re crawling with hostile creatures?!

Iglar blows his Spot check but does well in Listen. He hears breathing and rustling, and bellows a challenge.

Sargassas: I thought he wasn’t gonna wake us up. He’s like, “Ugh, I’m gonna stay quiet, this one is MINE!” I thought for sure we’d wake up and he’d just be standing on a mound of bodies.
Dian: Can you at least gently nudge someone else awake so if you die, we won’t all go with you?
Sargassas: Oh my god, come on! Why are we having two battles in the same night?
DM: Because I hate you. (pause) There’s a reason for it.
Sargassas: No!
DM: Yes, there is—
Sargassas: There’s no reason for any of it.
Ashta: Some of us actually need the sleep!
Iglar: He’s trying to get us enough experience to—
Dian: Because he wants us leveled before we fight the dragon.
DM: I’m telling you there’s a reason for this!
Dian: That’s not the reason?
DM: You’ve asked a legitimate question with an in-character answer. Now you can either sit around and complain about shit—
Ralth: But we like complaining!
DM: And I like bitching at you guys, so suck it.
Sargassas: (looking at the mini setup) This is a lotta people outside our camp.
Dian: Why do we even leave the guildhall? Why don’t we just put out, “We’ll fight you, come here?”
DM: Take a number, now serving…

The DM draws the tents and bedrolls for the characters. A kitty attacks the game laptop for no apparent reason, except for the natural enmity which all cats and other pets have for laptops. Sargassas complains about the encounter again. Iglar buffs himself. Ralth hears something behind him – as the kitty wanders into that exact spot on the map. Intiative occurs. Dire wolves boil out of the bushes.

Ralth: I go back to sleep.

The DM places down wolf minatures, but half of them don’t have a base so he plunks them on their side. Iglar, acting more competently than he has all night, glues the wolves to stands. Ralth ponders a backstab, but is painfully reminded of the time wolves dragged him off into the underbrush. Poor Ashta has no spells left.

DM: You see that CROW overhead looking down at you.
Khoriane: Really?
Dian: Fuck that crow.
DM: No! I just wanted to make you more paranoid. “Awk awk awk! Ha ha ha!”
Sargassas: On the DM’s driver’s license, it says, “cannot be trusted.”
DM: I’m just fucking with you all. Or AM I? Am I just fucking with you all by SAYING I’m just fucking with you all?
Sargassas: Stop masturbating about it.
DM: But I like to!

Ashta zaps a wolf. The kitty mauls Ralth with clawy kindness. The wolves are fuzzy now! Iglar uses his psionics to grow. Sargassas bonks a wolf; Ralth shivs a wolf; Dian misses a wolf; Ashta makes a crack about a wolf on its side. Dian is missed by one, but bitten by one. A “shitty” roll by the DM leads to 11 points of damage, and is auto-tripped. Dian and Sargassas congratulate themselves about Dian’s Sargassas-suggested purchase of boots that cause him to spring to his feet as a swift action. Iglar, whom everyone is counting on, clobbers one for 32 damage.

DM: Iglar brings his axe down and SLAMS it into one of the wolves. It lets out a howl of pain.

A pause.

Iglar: …that’s it?
DM: It’s not dead.
Iglar: Holy crap.
Khoriane: Yipe.
Sargassas: See? What I mean?

The wolves maul Iglar savagely. Again, the DM rolls “shitty”. The first one fails to trip Iglar, but the second one becomes a moot point as the second wolf knocks Iglar into negative HP. Sargassas snarks at the DM. Khoriane crits the injured wolf. Dian bounces back to his feet and attempts to interpret the wolves’ surprised step back as an AoC chance, but fails. Instead he pummels a wolf for 18 total damage. Poor Ashta, terribly low on spells, considers Sleep but the spell isn’t even capable of affecting the wolves. Sargassas complains about the DM. Khoriane shoots again. Sargassas rolls to heal Iglar.

Sargassas: Oh shit. Why did I have to roll it into the other d8s?
Iglar: Take a 10!

Ralth gets flanking at last, and does sneak attack one. The wolves are confused by Iglar not being dead. Iglar debates – does he rise, or attack from prone? He wisely chooses the latter and hits despite his penalties. The wolf dies, and at last the pack elects to flee after the death of some of its members. Iglar pitches a spear at a retreating wolf as a final act of spite, but only breaks the spear as the wolf it transfixed runs off. Dian ponders the healing of his ability damage.

DM: …however, if you guys make it to the town, you can have some uninterrupted rest…
Iglar: IF we make it to the town?
DM: Yeah. I make no guarantees about this, you should know that.
Iglar: This is true.
DM: Meanwhile, over in the other city: You see an airship with this really FAT halfling sitting there. “Ohhh, I’m so FAT. It’s a good thing I don’t have ta defend this giant pile of TREASURE. This sword plus five…”
Ralth: “I should be using it to GUARD the treasure, but…”
DM: “Welp, pikes’re standard.”
Sargassas: We’re gonna come back and there’s gonna be another party: “Oh my god, you shoulda seen the airship, BOOM! It was so easy! We killed like two dudes, and it was like BOOM!”

The DM calls for Listen/Spot checks from Khoriane. She rolls.

DM: Croo-oak! Croo-aak!
Dian: Not a dire frog!
Khoriane: Dire toad!
DM: TITANIC frog!
Dian: Don’t they have a zoo for dire creatures around here anyway?
Khoriane: (wearily) Really?
DM: It’s not a titanic toad.
Iglar: Just a Colossal one.
DM: What other dire things can I throw at you? Let’s see, dire badger, dire lion, dire rat, dire shark – ooh! You guys face a dire shark!
Ashta: On the middle of the land?
DM: What part of “dire” wasn’t clear here? Dire means better!

It ends on a lousy joke about ‘mako’ sharks and Jenova cells. And everyone was glad. That it was over. Not that the joke was made.