Having decided that his make-it-up-as-he-goes-along strategy for this game has finally led it to a spot where he needs to wrap it up, as many of the plot revelations have been demonstrated that he wished to reveal. So tonight he has vowed to end the game on an epic note – so epic a new member has appeared in the group to help meet this challenge! So the game begins with the DM mocking the players for giving disguised Alandris more time than he had some legitimate dwarves. Damien proposes officially naming the new player a “witness”. They also mock Lorrithrik’s player and send him questionably-witty text messages to him. The DM opens by demanding a Will save, DC 17.

Alandris: Where are we? Not why is this happening, but where are we?
Damien: I think he just did this to get our attention…
DM: The night before the battle of the great dwarven city that was already trashed has come. Many people are questioning why they’re even bothering to defend this place since it was already flattened and razed, but it’s the best defensive terrain you’ve got before more innocent dwarves start coming under fire. Your nights are haunted with nightmares. Dark malicious images seethe at your mind, as if they’re physically trying to rip their way out of your heads and harm you. However, you guys aren’t too bothered by it. You know, pre-battle jitters, whatever. As you awake in the morning, however, you find the camp you’ve taken up is in disarray. Many dwarves are injured or ill, nauseous with the experience. It seems all of them have had nightmares this night!
Witness: I told you not to drink the beer!
DM: A few of them are even dead.
Alandris: “Couldn’t drink the beer, Tyrgol drank it all!”
DM: Blood oozing out of their ears and pooling on their pillows.
Alandris: What the fuck?
Damien: They rolled 1.
DM: No, this spell actually does 1d10 points of damage if you don’t pass the save.
Alandris: Mordenkainen’s Nasty Nightmare?
DM: It’s just “nightmare”. Apropos.
Alandris: How can you put “ass” before or behind that spell?

The nightmare does indeed seem to have affected all dwarves to some extent or another. Alandris switches his voice for the character yet again. A page-dwarf bids them come to the morning meeting with the general. They head to the command building, which is a gutted-out tavern.

DM: “All right, we’ve been debating this a while, and here’s the thing. You guys are probably some of the greatest weapons we have on our side. Your contest participants we’ve dispersed out through the army and hopefully one of them will do some sort of great deed that turns the tide and wins the favor of Moradin and whatnot, but other than that, I’m leaving you guys full discretion as ta where ya go and what ya do in this fight. Do whatever ya can ta turn the tide.”
Alandris: (abrupt look of glee)
DM: “IN OUR FAVOR! IN OUR FAVOR! I SEE THAT THOUGHT!”

Alandris insists he’s still dominated, despite the DM explicitly telling him he isn’t. Damien inquires about how the forces are holding up, and receives confirmation that the entire army suffered nightmares. Alandris starts pondering how to stop this.

Alandris: Hmm. What sort of magical artifacts do these dwarves possess?
DM: “We have very few, we’re not a very magical people here!”
Alandris: “Get out.”
DM: “But this is MY COMMAND MEETING!” “You’re usurped, get out.”

The general explains that they have a suicidal advance force waiting to do as much damage as the entrance tunnel bottleneck, and otherwise a defensive line settled into fortifications near the inner exit of the cavern. With retreat barely possible and spelling certain doom, Alandris begins delivering a Churchill speech. Someone mentions the Wolfman movie; the DM starts screaming and throwing things.

DM: “You have our discretion to take up to a unit of dwarves if necessary and order them about. The commanders have been instructed that your orders should be given priority. We trust you not to do things like break our lines and whatnot…”
Alandris: “Tyrgol! I think you should take command of the dwarven unit!”

Huh, that sounds really wrong out of context. Oh wait, that’s exactly what Alandris was going for. And does for some time. Tyrgol’s homophobia-chicken-earned rage kicks in.

Tyrgol: RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!
DM: (to the witness) You’re some random commander, congratulations on your promotion.
Witness: “Ah, thank you!”
DM: There’s the accent, I was starting to worry. “Those nightmares must’ve been hard on you, ye’ve lost yer fine brogue!”
Damien: He had a nightmare and turned human.
DM: “NOOOOOOOOOOOO! ME BEARD! IT’S LESS GLORIOUS!”
Witness: “You guys, I got alase!”

The group ponders the possibility of a disintegrate-tunnel being carved as an extra entrance to the cavern, though a wizard assures them it is unlikely. Alandris and Damien attempt to deploy robot sentries and weld plate steel for fortifications. Alandris looks at some of the odd crap on his spell list, in hopes of finding some decent weapons.

Alandris: Are we gonna make some vast fortifications like tower defense here, or are we just gonna pick a place and make a stand?
DM: The undead just stupidly walk along your towers while you pick them off with bows.
Damien: “Why are we not walking through the towers?” “Because that’s against the rules.”
DM: “Why did I agree to this?!”
Alandris: What do you guys want to do?
Tyrgol: Gather our unit and figure out when the party starts.
Alandris: I’ve got my unit. Heh heh, I’m gonna milk that one for all it’s worth. It’s like this chair does something to the person sitting in it! (pointing at the DM) This is YOUR frickin’ spiel.
DM: I like how it’s my fault!
Niobhe: Everything is your fault.
Alandris: I’m not normally the one who cracks this crap?
DM: I figured, new year, you’re turning over a new leaf. That leaf just happens to be very perverted on the other side. He turned over the new leaf and there were just penis scribblings all over the bottom, what was up with that?

The meeting is dismissed. Tyrgol attempts to give an inspiring speech, but realizes they have an entire army to speak to, so that might be prohibitive.

Alandris: I think you should stand on top of that wall. SIXTEEN! SEVENTEEN! EIGHTEEN!
Tyrgol: “Ya could’ve picked a better spot!”
Alandris: I’ll be your Legolas, dammit.
Damien: Do you have the talent to stay pristinely clean in combat?
Tyrgol: “All right, listen up lads!”
DM: You rise up onto the wall, immediately a hundred arrows head for you.
Tyrgol: I have Deflect Arrow.
DM: That’s one a round!
Alandris: Although I can’t ride an orcish shield in style.
Tyrgol: Divine Wrath. “HOW DARE YOU FIRE AT ME?!” (more seriously) “All right, lads! I need two hundred volunteers for our company!”

A long pause.

Witness: “AYE!”

Tyrgol realizes they were supposed to take one whole unit instead of stripping men off of several different one and violently rewinds his entire speech. They instead conveniently take over the unit of the witness instead, whose accent is inexplicably piratical. Hilarious things are said in the background, but are mostly untranscribable due to Damien and Alandris babbling on about some vampire movie and making it all inaudible.

DM: You have recruited a dwarven pirate.
Alandris: Excellent! I’m ready to die now!

Someone cues up the Terminator theme. The PCs prepare to fight a Terminator robot.

Damien: He’s a demon in dwarf’s clothing. He’s a demonator!
DM: Someone cast animate object on a pool of mercury.
Alandris: And he went immediately to a town guardsman so he’d have a perfect disguise.
Damien: He’s like, “Mercury poisoning! You’re dead.”
DM: All right, Tyrgol has recruited you a unit of pirates, apparently. No one knows why.
Alandris: Well, as long as no ninjas show up, we’re set. Ninja undead against dwarven pirates, this is gonna be the most epic thing of any campaign we ever do at this table!

Inevitably, the group starts actually arguing pirates versus ninjas. It ends up with Batman dropping pirates off upside-down outside Commissioner Gordon’s office. No one knows why.

Damien: All right, I have ten ranks in archaeology, we’re going to go find and dig up an old civilization with advanced technology that will save the dwarves.
DM: This isn’t your campaign.
Damien: I didn’t have advanced technology buried in the ground, it just came from somewhere else!
DM: To be fair, we never looked! Who knows what we might have found if we did?!
Damien: You should’ve thought of that, you could’ve found some laser guns and won the day.
DM: We didn’t need to, we kept stealing C4.

The group briefly relieves the good old days of that campaign. Then the PCs turn back to the question of what to do with their unit. Damien proposes they set traps at the outside tunnel and bridges in an effort to blow it up. The DM reminds him that the bridge was being held up my magic, but Damien wants to literally destroy the bridge.

Witness: My entire unit will go out and jump up and down.
DM: “Resonance!” Stomp, stomp, stomp – “Aaaaaaah we regret nothiiiiiiiiing!”

Damien fantasizes about using earth elementals, but no one can get them anyway.Alandris starts making 300 comparisons, which leads into discussion of the actual numbers present at the battle of Thermopylae. The DM makes a bad joke.

Alandris: Huh?
Damien: That was so bad. It’s a good thing you didn’t get the joke. Forget it. Forget it!
Tyrgol: It’s like the Power Glove. It’s so bad.
Witness: “Arr, but it looked cool!”
Niobhe: That’s all it’s got going for it…
Tyrgol: “Tell me, lad, what’s your favorite letter of the alphabet.”
Witness: “ARRRRRRR! …Q.”
DM: Why? “Because I want to know!” “No, Y!”

Damien threatens to hold Alandris by the base of the neck at all times, in case he gets confused or dominated again.

Witness: “My unit is ready to die!”
DM: “But we’d rather live!”
Witness: “Shut up, you! Fight for me!”
Damien: There’s all these dwarves behind him, like, “Uh, I signed up to live!”
Witness: “Shut up. You shouldn’t even be in this meeting.”
DM: “We’re only here for the booty! Arr.”
Damien: It’s kinda hard for them not to be in the meeting considering we’ve made a tent out of their living corpses.
DM: Ha ha, “living” corpses! “Sir, would you please not refer to us as that… It’s very bad for morale.”
Alandris: “I’m not dead yet!”
Damien: (mimes clonking a dwarf over the head)
DM: “I’m a dwarf, I have resistance to bludgeoning damage.” “Oh, I’ll have to use the bladed sap.” It’s the sap that does lethal damage. “Isn’t that just a mace?” “Shut up!”
Damien: A sap with a double-bladed sword. “I hit him with the handle – oh, I forgot, there is no handle…”

The party roots for buff spells. Alandris proposes they go wake up Moradin and make him help out.

Alandris: “Rest I need. Forever sleep.” “Master Moradin, you can’t die.” “When gone am I… new dwarven deity you shall be.”
DM: Tyrgol discovers he has a sister.
Tyrgol: She’s just as drunk as I am.
Damien: Except she is constantly drunk.
DM: So, yeah.
Damien: He’s not drunk know.
Niobhe: Are you sure about that?
DM: Tyrgol’s gotta get in the proper mindset to enjoy his last day on dwarf earth, especially considering he might be going to elf heaven at the end of this day.
Witness: “ARRR! Sucks for you!”
Alandris: Elves don’t have heaven in this setting, do they?
DM: It’s complicated.

The party continues to get distracted. The DM reaches for a sourcebook.

DM: Yeah, okay. I’m like, I’m gonna have to throw a monster at them to keep their attention, I’ll just open the book at random, “Whale.” Awww…
Damien: That’s not gonna help us, that’s just gonna end the game.

While their dwarven unit moves to the front line, the players cheerfully discuss various puns they would like to use. They don’t MAKE the puns, mind, just discuss making them.

DM: So Damien, I hear you’re a master of ‘small-unit’ tactics?
Niobhe: (collapses in laughter)
Alandris: I did open the door for that, so I apologize.
Damien: I have decided that since I have big hands, I am gonna use a dwarf as a shield,.

Discovering that the front lines are archers, not infantry, the group promptly turns right around and marches their men back to the trenches. The witness proposes they send the unit of men to slay the lich, but the PCs note that even that can’t guarantee success if they personally went.

Alandris: “Plus he’s a master of the snappy comeback, and that’s never to be underestimated.”
Witness: “Ohhhh. Arr.”
Damien: He always had to get the last word in. Always had to get the last word in. It’s like we know this person. In real life. I swear to god, if we find out the DM dies, he’s gonna haunt us. I’ll be at work, all of a sudden I’ll hear a crappy pun. “God damn it, DM.”
Alandris: “This person is real, right?”
Damien: “Yeah…”
Alandris: “Okay, do we know it exists?”
Damien: “Yeah. Unfortunately.”
DM: Two low-level casters with ghost sound prepared.
Alandris: Oh yeah, they exist.

The PCs wish furiously for a rock-to-mud spell. The general passes spyglasses to the group, so they can watch from a distance. Tyrgol attempts to focus the lenses into a powerful laser; Damien just tries to enter cheat code. The PCs notice one of their men has fallen asleep!

Niobhe: Give him a nudge.
Damien: With your broadsword.
Alandris: Slapping Hand!
DM: As you watch he begins to twitch and writhe.
Alandris: Wait, what?
Tyrgol: “What’s going on? You, what’s going on?!”
Alndris: “Detect—“ wait, I can’t detect shit. Uh… Sense, uh… Knowledge(arcane)! Does it look like a spell is being cast.
DM: Spellcraft.
Alandris: That’s an even 40.
DM: Considering your experiences last night you’re almost certain that whatever nightmare spell has been cast—
Alandris: Again?!
DM: Seems to be affecting this kid as well.
Damien: Wake him up, quick!
DM: However, you know from experience that the spell-
Alandris: We’re fighting Freddy Kreugger, dammit!
DM: The spell is normally only targetable on one person. The fact that the entire army was targeted that night is probably a bad sign, and the fact that this kid fell asleep and was immediately targeted by one is a WORSE sign!
Tyrgol: Realm spell?
Alandris: Nightmare, (plays dramatic reveal music)
DM: As you watch, his eyes open, but they rolled so far back in his head all you see are the whites. He gives out one last gasp and collapses writhing on the ground.
Damien: His bowels flowing from his ass!

Niobhe stabilizes him, and the boy is carted off. The other dwarves are horrified. The PCs quickly begin worrying about what exactly is going on. Alandris tries to deflect suspicion off himself, and the DM cheerfully deflects it right back, then asks what his Fort save modifier is.

DM: Remember that time when I made you roll a couple of checks and then a save in the middle of the night and then had you hand your character sheet over? Nothing actually happened.

The players curse the DM for a while. Damien realizes that the undead no longer NEED to attack, just let the nightmares do the work. Still, the fact that the nightmare spell just doesn’t work like what they’re seeing gnaws at them. Amazingly, none of them freak out, though Damien accuses the lich of being in the back using Battle Meditation.

DM: “This fully operational siege engine.” It’s just the world’s largest ballista.
Damien: It fires other ballista.
Alandris: No, it’s a trebuchet that throws ballistas.
DM: It’s six ballista that all fire so their arrows hit and then they form one giant ballista bolt for no apparent reason.

Damien is forbidden from talking about movies any more. The witness asks if they have any mounted troops, prompting snickering from everyone else. With their backs against the metaphorical wall, the PCs decide to attack. Alandris bemoans their lack of a rogue.

Alandris: …Or a halfling that could just step sideways or whatever. Are there any halflings here?
DM: There is ONE halfling here…
Alandris: Are you setting me up?
Witness: But he’s in prison!
DM: He’s been accused of choking a dwarf. He’s on the pirate ship right now. Everybody on! You’re having a murder mystery!
Alandris: Ohhhhh, that’s how it ends. Oh boy.
Niobhe: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
DM: There is one halfling here but you’ll have to go to the commanders to speak to him.
Witness: “Turns out the halfling is the lich.”
Tyrgol: Why is the halfling with them?
DM: He’s serving as the lieutenant and attaché to the commanders.

The PCs wonder if the lich is also an awnshegh, and retread some of the plot. Alandris wonders if they have any means to contact the Sword Mage, but they don’t.

DM: I should warn you, the Shadow Realm is known to be the haunt of the undead.
Alandris: Right now the real world seems to be too…
DM: Touche.

The PCs imagine a scenario where hundreds of mages are guarded by thousands of vampire monks, and attempt to lie down and die right there. The PCs decide to hunt down and kill the band that keeps doing dramatic musical stingers, then go to see the halfling.

DM: As you approach the central command tent, a pair of dwarves step into your path to block your entrance.
Alandris: Force Choke!
Damien: Whirlwind!
DM: One of them lifts his helmet. You recognize Galuf. “Tyrgol! What brings you here?”
Tyrgol: “We need ta speak with the halfling.”
DM: “You mean the one that’s with Barack?”

The group erupts into glorious howls and cheers at the realization that it WILL BE MATTHIAS! Galuf goes to try to spring Matthias free from the meeting. The DM says one word in Matthias’s voice and the group begins laughing again.

Tyrgol: “Greetings, Matthias, good ta see ya again.”
DM: “It’s been a while! How have things been going?”
Tyrgol: “Not so great, t’be honest. You can sidestep, right?” (a very long pause) Or whatever it’s called in this campaign…
DM: Shadowalk. “Of course, I am a halfing! As you can tell by my voice, or perhaps my stature!”
Tyrgol: “Can you take us into the Shadow Realm?”
DM: “Why do you want to go there?”
Tyrgol: “We want to check things out, see if we can get behind enemy lines.”
DM: “Just a scouting mission, huh?”
Tyrgol: “For the most part. If we can do anything, we’ll do it. If not…”
DM: “Very dangerous, but I think I can help you. If anybody can handle it, it’s those guys back there in that tent, but you guys would be my second choice.”

Matthias agrees to take them and the PCs immediately begin making incredibly bad “going into the Shadow World” noises. Matthias ACTUALLY opens the portal to it. They step into the cold, dark Shadow World, which the DM begins elaborately describing before Alandris dismisses it as exactly like putting the One Ring on. They spy seeping black, amorphous power that reach out into the dwarves, which the players immediately understand to be the source of the nightmares. Niobhe rolls yet another 20 on a skill check to discover that the magic effect is bizarrely abnormal. She starts to gear up a Dispel Evil spell but Matthias cautions here to hold it. Alandris attempts to solve the problem with a fireball.

DM: Barack has made a great sacrifice this day. He actually has access to his laser eye spell.
Damien: I NEVER TOOK THE SPELL! I just looked at it!
DM: It was on your spell list!
Damien: God damn it! That’s right, it’s not even a spell I have to choose, I just have it!
DM: Yes, you just never prepared it. Today you can. It’s the greatest sacrifice you could have ever made for the dwarven people and you’ll be honored forever. “Oh, Barack didn’t get laid, and thus the day was saved!”
Niobhe: “His balls were blue for me and you!”

The group heads for the tunnel to the outside world, finding it to basically be a river of malefic energy. NOW Damien and Niobhe start calling it bullshit. The DM ends the game there with their deaths. They make their rolls to travel up the river and out to the outside world, finding that the miasma emerges from one single point up on a higher terrace of the mountain.

DM: You climb slowly up the walkway where in the real world, you fought two of those flesh golems.
Damien: I thought they were earth elementals.
DM: No, that was the bridge.
Alandris: The one that threw me off the – yeah. You enjoyed every second of that, didn’t you?
DM: Yes, I enjoy it when I manage to get one over on you guys.
Tyrgol: I didn’t do anything that fight. I just ran back and forth.
Damien: “Go back and help ‘em!” Go back. “That one’s been taken care of!” Go back this way.
Tyrgol: “That one’s been taken care of!” Gaaaaaaah!
DM: Who’s in front?
Niobhe: Damien is in front.
DM: You step, just as your head finally breaches the plane, you see ahead of you a beast that looks like nightmares incarnate. In fact, it looks like THIS fucker right here! (showing off a page from the Monster Manual)
Damien: Huh. Everyone’s behind me, I go up the ramp. “Huh.” I just start walking back down.
DM: It is sitting on the ground, it appears to be almost asleep and does not appear to be stirring. But even in that position, it is mighty and massive, and the magic appears to be pouring out from it like an endless fount.
Tyrgol: “I don’t think I can choke that one.”
Damien: “I think I found the source.”

Alandris rolls Knowledge(arcana) to determine this is some sort of awnshegh, though not one known to him. Damien tries to send Matthias to get Barack.

Damien: “Well, it looks like we don’t have a choice, we’re gonna have to destroy this beast.”
DM: “Do you think you can?”
Alandris: “If we can’t then there’s no hope anyway.”
Damien: “I have NO idea.”
Alandris: “Yeah, that’s good, that’s really good. Well, there’s no time to run back for help anyway. If we don’t do it…”
Damien: “No one can.”

They bid Matthias leave… then he points out he’s their trip back. They agree to let him stay and watch the battle unfold. The PCs begin buffing, with plenty of time to do so.

Alandris: If Batman were here, this would already be over, because he has prep time.
Damien: He has a tool on his belt just for this.
DM: Bat-Sweet-Dreams pills.

Someone turns the Mortal Kombat theme on. They buff and buff, but all this buffing appears to have woken up the creature. The PCs look through their list of random treasure, trying to find a weapon that will give them a sudden and amazing advantage. Unsurprisingly they don’t find one, and initiative is rolled. Damien tears into the fray with Searing Charge for 20 points of fire damage. For the hundredth time, someone forgets that ‘charge’ is just an attack option, not a feat or ability, and after being corrected, Niobhe charges the thing with her longspear of various properties for 22. Alandris casts good old sound lance, then rolls his check against SR.

DM: It’s d20 plus your full caster level.
Alandris: Plus the four I get from Spell Penetration.
DM: You have that feat?
Alandris: Greater Spell Penetration.
DM: Good selection. In this case, it has served you well.
Alandris: 21.
DM: It passes! Its SR is 20, so your chances of not affecting it are very low.

One-Winged Angel starts playing for a while. Alandris’s summoned water elemental moves forward. Alandris deals 71 points of damage with his spell, which the creature promptly fails to save against.

DM: It is visibly driven backwards and into the ground by your spell. You can see the furrows in the ground where it tried to resist, and simply slid backwards. Tyrgol deals a Bonecrusher attack, though some of his damage is warded away. The creature promptly dimension doors 1000 feet away down the terrace.

DM: Captain, it’s your turn! I assume you’re not doing much.
Damien: Use harsh language! Use larsh hang- harsh language.
Witness: Captain! Rolling a 15 he yells perverse language and calls it names!
DM: …It doesn’t understand you.
Tyrgol: Let him roll an Intimidate, come on!
DM: It only speaks Abyssal!
Witness: I was trying to lower its morale, arr.

Alandris ponders his spell list, while Tyrgol attempts to teleport the group to the creature. He fails to do so, however; the camp has been warded against teleporting of all forms, in or out.

Tyrgol: Wait a minute, I can find a loophole. I’ve got stoneform! I can teleport into myself and appear over there.
DM: …Gib.

The players spend a lot longer than actually should be reasonable in the middle of combat to flail over this new turn of events. Niobhe starts summoning an air elemental. The melee fighters advance resolutely forward.

Witness: The Captain rolls a 10… and urinates himself.

Niobhe’s air elemental appears, and the players keep advancing forward sloooowly, all the while hoping desperately that this thing can’t do that again. They’re all running at top speeds, but the distance involved is pretty substantial. They run and run… the beast does nothing… Alandris spends an immense amount of time searching for a decent long-range spell, but finally just settles on hurling a fireball.

Alandris: Kurt Burton. (rolling) Wow!
DM: Is that your battlecry?
Alandris: 5, 5, 5, 5, 6, 6.
DM: Jesus.
Damien: You should use that battlecry more often!

Damien hurls his body in the path of the interfering DM’s low-roll curse. The total damage is 63 – on 10d6 plus a warmage edge. The creature summons an air elemental to engage Niobhe’s, and begins casting a spell once more. Everyone continues to charge, Alandris casts another fireball for 56. The creature has saved both, by the way. The creature pops out ANOTHER air elemental, then fireballs Alandris – fairly ineffectually, since he has a fire shield that reduced the damage to 22. He lobs a fireball back.

DM: He casts a spell this round.
Damien: Does that stop us from running?
DM: Erm… not necessarily…
Damien: All right. I don’t understand, he’s like, “Hold up!” Well how does this affect us…

The spell the creature cast was wall of fire, which would deal meaningless damage to the melee running through it but cuts off line-of-sight to the casters. Niobhe immediately dispels it with a natural 20 on her check. The DM accuses her of weighting her dice, and forward further charge the melee. The creature casts incendiary cloud for the same purposes once again!

DM: So that means your mass fire shields are going down this round.
Niobhe: Can I cast another dispel on that—
DM: YES you can cast another dispel!
Niobhe: I rolled a 25 on my check.
DM: And there goes my cloud.
Damien: We’re like, plotting how we’re gonna get through this—
Tyrgol: Running, a big sweat drop coming down our head. “Uh-oh, this is gonna suck – oh, never mind!”

Alandris fireballs again. Damien tacks on to every sentence spoken his conviction that the creature will teleport behind Alandris and maul him shamelessly. Tyrgol and Damien take 2 points of Fort damage each from a cloudkill spell.

Witness: Has this interrupted its nightmare spell ability?
DM: No. That’s a constant.
Damien: Apparently that’s its special ability.
DM: Yes, that is its ultimate ability. You were wise to engage it because otherwise, all it would have taken was it just sitting there, and everybody in a ten-mile radius gets the nightmare spell hammered into them every 24 hours.
Damien: 10 miles, good god!
Witness: The creature casts sleep on the Captain.

Damien manages to crit on Elder Mountain Hammer, which puts his damage somewhere around 15d6 or whatnot.

Damien: 96 points of damage.
DM: You hammer it in the jaw. You see its entire body lift up off the ground. It turns a full revolution in midair before slamming back down to the ground with an earthshaking movement. Everybody give me a Will save.
Damien: Oh my god, did it scream to death? Did it have a death scream?
Witness: Hey, the farther away we are from it, the safer we are, I hope?
DM: No.
Alandris: This is probably the nightmare spell being destroyed.
DM: Oh, you wish it was.

The difficulty is 25, but yet everyone succeeds (but the Captain).

DM: At once, as the creature hits the ground, you see the black effects of the nightmare spell turn a white-hot and somehow sickly yellow. You can see the captain in the back screaming and clutching his head!
Witness: Ripping his hair out!
Damien: Oh that’s not good. I believe we just killed everybody in our army.
DM: Actually, no. You got lucky this time. You killed everybody in the closest proximity to the creature.

This sinks in for a moment.

Tyrgol: Oh wow.
Damien: Oh no!
DM: You don’t know that, but out of character I’ll tell you, you just killed everything in close proximity that didn’t make its Will save.

The creature rises to its feet again. Tyrgol promptly leaps on it, just as Niobhe goes to blast it. She instead moves in to try to dispel the creature. The DM allows Tyrgol to deal damage and his choking abilities from its back, but not to immobilize it. The DM then picks looks for his orange d20s.

Witness: Here’s one.
DM: Don’t give it to me. The power of that…
Damien: That’s a guaranteed crit! Whenever the DM has those in his hand, someone’s getting crit!
Alandris: “He crits you for 440 points of damage.” “No…”
DM: Damien, what’s your AC.
Damien: 24.
DM: Perhaps understandably you are the primary focus of its wrath.
Damien: I’m pretty sure it’s not happy with me right now.
DM: Uh—do you want the good news or the bad news?
Alandris: Take the bad news.
Damien: Sure, I’ll take the bad news first.
DM: The bad news is he hit you with all of his attacks. The good news is – you should have taken them in the other order because the good news is funnier – I rolled 2, 7, 3, 3, 4 on five d20s. I’m serious, look at that. How sad and pathetic is that.

The players complain that none of that was good news. Damien takes 86 points of damage in total.

Damien: Just a flesh wound. …a fucking grievous as hell flesh wound, but nonetheless!
Alandris: I hope you’ve got a mutant healing factor you can kick in…

The players all take their turns. Tyrgol chokes it, but it passes its save to not fall asleep, though the DM notes it has a non-trivial chance of failure. Niobhe dispels the cloudkill, to the DM’s obvious annoyance. Damien curses the lack of healing. The DM scoops up an orange d20 in order to slay the characters, and again rolls poorly, but well enough to hit.

DM: All right, we’ll take this in order… for all that it has Improved Critical on everything it sure does nothing for it. Its first tusk slams into your shoulder for a whopping, oh that was pathetic, 20 points of damage.
Damien: How is that pathetic?! Even at full hit points that’s still like a fifth!
DM: Oh, you’re right, I forgot the power attack that it did. 25 points of damage.
Niobhe: Are you down yet?
Damien: No.
DM: Its next tusk slashes across your forehead – oh, that’s much better—
Damien: Who are you rooting for?!
DM: 28 points of damage as it hammers into you. I told you we were going out with a bang!
Damien: I’m at… -16.

Silence.

Damien: Eh heh heh heh.
DM: Then down you go.
Damien: Down I go? My head flew off.
DM: You see a tusk slam into Damien’s head and come out the other side.
Tyrgol: “NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”
Alandris: That’ll probably wrath both of us!
DM: I dunno, do you really care that Damien’s dead? Luckily, since it can’t really reach you with any of its attacks, Tyrgol… it reaches back, trying to paw at you with its massive claws. You bad away one set without much effort whatsoever. However, the other one comes up on the other side and you’re unprepared for it.
Tyrgol: “Aww, ya tricked me.”
Alandris: It uses its Backscratcher Special.
DM: It only does 14 points of damage to you, so don‘t be impressed.\
Tyrgol: Don’t worry, I wasn’t.

Niobhe attempts to cure Damien. They point out to her that he was at NEGATVE SIXTEEN, which somehow she had missed the entire time. She instead casts dispel evil, while Alandris Sudden Empowers a fireball. The creature at last fails it save.

DM: You picked a good time to empower it.
Alandris: Well, Damien’s dead.
Damien: Yeah, we have to wait for Damien to die before anything cool happens.
DM: Normally it’s Alandris who dies, let’s be fair.
Alandris: Yeah, this is the first time he’s killed anyone other than me.
Damien: Well you died in a retarded way!

Alandris’s fireball deals a full 85 damage to it, doubling its damage taken.

DM: Now, the moment you’ve all been waiting for. The moment you have been eagerly anticipating this entire fight!
Alandris: But he already died.
DM: No, that was the moment I was looking forward to.

The DM, with appropriate pffting noises, moves the creature directly behind Alandris.

Alandris: What the—
Damien: I KNEW IT! The whole time!

Alandris attempts to surrender and die with dignity. The DM demands Tyrgol pull a book out from beneath a die he rolled, so that it would settle aside; the creature almost failed the saving throw vs. sleep, but the way Tyrgol pulls the book means it did not.


Witness: Wait, the water elemental can attack, right?
DM: Go for it. If you think that’s what’s going to turn the tide, by all means.
Tyrgol: Is this thing wheezing at least?

The water elemental slaps the awnshegh feebly around for a bit. The DM mocks the players for constantly trying to make the creature fail a Fort save, and the players complain that it has a high Fort save to begin with. Alandris casts a fire burst, which harms both the creature and Tyrgol. Amazingly, the creature misses on its bite.

Alandris: So he only hit me four times. You realize I have way less hit points than Damien did. So just tell me how it kills me.
DM: To be fair, you might have the same number of hit points as Damien does when this is all over.
Alandris: Minus sixteen?
DM: The first tusk drives for your upper shoulder.
Alandris: There goes my arm!
DM: 22 points of damage as it punches through your flesh and bone. The tusk bursts out the other end, impaling you, and then he slams the second one into your other shoulder. 24 points of damage.
Damien: And he’s at negative 1.
Alandris: Minus three, actually.

It swats at Tyrgol again, but both miss. The initiative cycles around again.

DM: This round, the beast rears back on its hind legs, hops forward, and then slams down on you in a brutal trample attack.

Silence except for a shocked yelp from Niobhe.

Alandris: Necessary? I think not. Although in the ether where my soul now resides, I can at least be satisfied that I pissed it off enough to make it do that.

Niobhe unwisely runs at the thing, but the beast charges her, taking advantage of her lowered AC from the run. It crits her for 58.

Niobhe: I’m still alive. Is it my turn yet?
DM: How much damage do you do, Tyrgol?
Tyrgol: 13.
DM: It withdraws its tusk from your abdomen, rising up over you. It opens its mouth, the footlong teeth shining as they’re about to close on your head…. Then it wavers. Drops to its knee. Thud.
Damien: Did it fail its role?
DM: No. He killed it with pure damage. With that 13, he dropped it from the ONE HIT POINT IT WAS AT to negative 12.

The players immediately start patting their backs or making requests for disposition of their corpses, either or. The DM has to yell at them to shut up to get their attention back.

DM: The death throes of this powerful awnshegh are enough to practically evaporate the barrier between the Shadow World and the real one. It was already weak thanks to the activity of so many undead. You appear in the midst of a bone field.
Witness: The Captain pees himself.
Damien: How is there any pee left?!
DM: Very little is moving. In the distance, you see some undead attempting to flee back up the mountain before a massive gout of flame erupts from the pointing finger of an elven sorceress and practically detonates them. Off to one side, a noble paladin hero and a dwarf overthane are busy hewing the last of the dwarves to goo. Meanwhile, a rogue has slipped behind and is busy backstabbing another dwarf quite viciously, taking him out with another brutal hamstring.
Alandris: Does he still wield Ladypleaser!?
DM: Yes! And he has on a quite fancy chapeau. That says “Fuck you haberdashers.” In the center of all this, the powerful lich lord, now removed from his cloak of invisibility, points a finger, and a massive bolt of green light shoots out at the dwarf you remember from your interviews, the powerful paladin, Lyra Thundershield. As it begins to reach her it simply evaporate in the glow of the glowing white dwarven waraxe she holds, which she brings up and hews, smashing through the neck of the lich, skull flying off into the distance.
Damien: Well HE was easily killed.
DM: She was 19th fucking level!

With the battle decisively concluded, the heroes settle to mourn, or raise, their dead.A couple of weeks pass.

DM: Hendlar.
Hendlar: “Aye?”
Mal: Whoa, putting them shoes on again.
DM: In the dwarven kingdom, all turned out for the proclamation of the new avatar of Moradin.
Eirien: It’s the paladin chick, isn’t it.
DM: Absolutely it is. Her first act was to bequeath the raising of the dead upon those noble heroes who fell to save the entire army.
Hendlar: You two are like R2D2 at the end of A New Hope. Shiny and new.
Barack: She casted the wrong spell, a frog hops up.
DM: However, you’re all called to a celebration at Barack’s place, which is somewhat interrupted by the news that both the Sword Mage and Gavin Tael wish to speak to you on a matter of realm-shaking importance.
Barack: An evil lich from another world has invaded! We killed one, there’s like 5 others.
DM: And all of you, including Eirien, though she’s wandered off – IT’S NOT COMBAT, EIRIEN! Are lined up in the throne room awaiting the delegation. The Sword Mage walks in alone.
Hendlar: “I expected Gavin Tael to be coming.”
Barack: Are our second tier characters here?
DM: No, they’re recovering from being dead. “Gavin Tael is here.” (making a mask-removal gesture)
Mal: Whaaaaat. So we did kill the Sword Mage. But wait. Why—
Barack: HUH?
Mal: Wait – no—
DM: You guys did kill the Sword Mage.
Hendlar: “Why would you take up his mantle?”
DM: “There is much here you do not understand.”
Mal: “Have you come to enlighten us then?”
DM: “Lord Barack. The House of Tael has committed far too many errors and misruled its realm for far too long. For too long Ghoere has served as a land of evil, one that other realms fear; for too long it has obstructed the path to the Iron Throne. There is one liege in Anuire who deserves to sit on that throne.” Gavin Tael draws his sword, kneels before you, and offers it to you. “The land of Ghoere is yours, if you would take it.”
Barack: “Hell yeah!”
Mal and Hendlar: Don’t be black.
Barack: “I’m honored by your proclamation, and I take this with a… heavy... heart?”
Eirien: “With humility.”
Barack: “With humidity, right.” Nope, I’m gonna say it wrong.
Eirien: George W. Barack.
Barack: No, I give a good speech, I have a high Diplomacy. Regardless of MY retardedness.
DM: “Lord Mal.”
Mal: “I’m a lord now?”
DM: “From my perspective you serve wisely at Barack’s side. For you I have a special gift from the house of Tael.”
Mal: Tail, ha ha. Do you remember anything about his background?
DM: Wait till the end and you’ll understand a bit of this. From the cape of the Sword Mage he reaches in and produces a sheathed sword, a short sword, which he hands to you. You can feel the powerful magics coursing through it.
Eirien: It’s a partner to Ladypleaser.
Mal: “And this would be?”
Barack: Cocktickler?
Witness: I call it the Thigh.
DM: “I owe you a favor, this is my repayment.”
Mal: “I won’t turn it down, despite my previous misgivings about your realm, but how do I owe you a favor?”
DM: “I’ll explain to you at the investiture ceremony, provided it’s kept quiet.”

Grandfather performs the ceremony, of course. It is quiet and private as Gavin Tael finally arrives.

Barack: I like the blackouts we keep having. “This happened.” Sschwip!
DM: Doyoureallywannaroleplayeverysinglefuckingthing—
Barack: I’m joking! I’m joking!
DM: “I have to make a confession. Gavin Tael is dead.”
Eirien and Barack: Kael’thas Sunstrider?!
DM: “I assumed the role of the Sword Mage as a method to achieve my goals, which is the undoing of the whole demon portal thing, which the Sword Mage never would’ve voluntarily done. When Gavin Tael was…. Oddly assaulted out of nowhere by a group of reckless adventurers, and defeated…
Hendlar: But he was alive when we left!
DM: Alive, but very injured. And you left him kind of tied up. “I’d been using both spells and simple charm to get on his good side for some time. It was a simple matter to have him declare me his heir… and die in secret, so that control of the realm passed to me.”
Mal: “And you are?” Is there actually a pair of breasts under the armor?
DM: “It’s called ‘disguise self’. Dismiss!” …Mahlissa.
Barack: I KNEW IT! I KNEW IT!
Mal: “Well, I now understand the favor part of it.”
DM: “I hope this new realm doesn’t prove to be too much of a burden on you, but you deserve it.”
Barack: “Hey Mal. It’s your favorite person in the whole world.”

With that, the game comes to a close… and sometime, in the distant future, a First Birthright Game Campaign 2 will occur…