Sargassas: Here’s the problem, DM. Too many toasters.

Guess where it goes from here. Yeah, something to do with toasters toasting toast. Go figure. The DM turns to the new character in the game.

DM: All right, Max… Ten-Ton... Chesty… McBoob.
Sargassas: That should be his thing. It’s Max, and then something you make up at the time. Every time it’s different.
DM: Give me a brief history of your character and his motivation.

A pause.

DM: You don’t have a fucking clue, do you.
Max: No. I just smash shit, dude. Okay, being a half-ogre, half-human – Eduardo never really settled in well.
Dian: You should have a space between the Eduard and the O, so that’s his name. Edward O.
Max: But his nickname is Bulk.
Khoriane: Or Skull.
DM: It’s acceptable for that to be a nickname.
Max: Unfortunately, because he didn’t settle well, he just gets into fights.

Max is directed to the city of Guildhome to join the eponymous Guild. Cheerfully breaking out a map, the DM proceeds to describe his walk down the main street while the fellow players follow his progress. The group cheerfully anticipates enlarging the Large size half-ogre at the same time they dread 5’ by 5’ corridors.

Ralth: How are we gonna get him in our fucking house? We’re gonna need to put up a shed outside.
Max: “I’ll meet you outside the city.”
DM: He leads the sad, lonely life.
Sargassas: We just make him a little doghouse outside. A BIG doghouse.

On he goes, passing by the tavern district, then the bazaar!

DM: On the right you see some of the most magnificent wares, things you would never imagine! Brilliant, shining banners, clearly magical in origin, proclaiming the most magnificent wares.
Dian: Weres? Werewolves? Werebears?
DM: Shining swords…
Max: I‘ll stop and inspect the weapons.
DM: You stop at this booth. None of these weapons are sized for you, but nevertheless they’re of fine—
Max: “I enjoy looking at toys. I need something new to clean the lint from under my fingernails.”
Dian: They do have stuff your size, it’s just all Nerf.

Traveling on through the housing district, Bulk endears himself to the locals by getting Frisbees off roofs. He at last reaches the Guild proper, and is exposed to the wash of flavor text that edifice inspires.

DM: There is a busy stream of people going in and out, most of them human… a few dwarves, many elves, even some of more unusual races. You believe you see what is almost certain to be a guy with the lower body of a goat.
Khoriane: Bariur!
Dian: A psi-bariur!
Max: Okay. Um. I mean. Are they rare creatures?
DM: You’ve never seen one before.
Max: “Mmm, lunch.”
Dian: (cantina music)

Bulk steps into line at the reception, and immediately encounters DM Stock NPC #3: the person making entirely too big a scene and delay in a line. (#1 is the extremely unhelpful guard; #2 is the really stupid guy.)

DM: “Why I never! You’re saying I can’t visit Lord So-and-so?” “I’m sorry, ma’am, he’s otherwise indisposed, deep in a meeting—“ “This is quite outrageous!”
Max: (loudly) “IS THIS NOT THE ADVENTURERS’ GUILD?!”
DM: Business comes to a gradual halt around you.
Ralth: He does Tyrgol honor…
DM: A person dressed like a watchman hurries over to you. “Yes, sir, this is the Adventurers’ Guild.”
Max: “I WANNA JOIN.”
DM: “Please be patient, sir, she’ll be with you in a moment—“
Sargassas: “NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOW!”
DM: See, this is why I said it would be bad if you were Chaotic Neutral. That ‘Good’ is the only thing holding you back from Roll A New Charactersville.
Sargassas: It’d be funny if he did that, we were downstairs… “We have a new adventure for you, take down the half-ogre!”
DM: He IS an adequate encounter for people of your level…

The Large size of Max continues to be a source of great amusement to the players --

Dian: So Iglar is like Hagrid to his Grawpy…
DM: Finally, what appears to be a tall man – for a human – bald and powerfully muscles, approaches you.
Sargassas: Just flexing in your direction. Constantly.
DM: Yes, he’s Major Armstrong. He will punch you with the Armstrong Alchemy. “I hear you wish to join the Adventurers’ Guild.”
Max: “Yes… I do.”
DM: “Your name?”
Max: “Eduardo Francesco Fernando Jose Sanchex the Third. But everybody calls you Bulk.”
DM: We’ll call you Max.

The NPC leads him off into the depths of the guild, asking him of his prior experience. Speaking of stock NPCs, Sargasses wishes they had killed that snooty NPC bouncer way back in the Birthright midquel. The NPC leads him to a room.

DM: You step inside to see what appears to be an immense troll before you.
Max: I KILL IT! …wait, time out, how big are trolls?
DM: “Please, demonstrate your skills.” The troll looks at you, slavering.
Max: “With. Pleasure.”

The troll strikes first, clawing him for 21 points of damage, then rending for 11. Max rages! For some reason, the DM calls for a Will saving throw, which Max rolls as a natural 1. He Power Attacks in return, for 37, sending an arm flying!

DM: The troll lets out a horrific screech, and then freezes. The arm also freezes.
Dian: An illusion!
Max: “What manner of trickery is this?!”
DM: “Merely a demonstration. It’s not as if we would actually keep a troll pacified and simply keep it around to be hacked on… Merely an illusion, you demonstrated quite adequately. Your skills are clearly up to par, at least in terms of combat.” You look down and realize that no harm has come to you from this demonstration.
Max: Oh, that was the Will save!
DM: Yep, from interacting with the illusion, he gets a Will save to disbelieve reflexively. Which he did not! He bought it! He should’ve taken real damage just from how real he believed it to be!

Max takes a moment to read the guild rules, and the group takes a moment to consume lasagna. Focus skips back to the rest of the party!

DM: The 29th of Psireach dawns bright and clear. No need to roll for weather, because they’re magically controlling it.
Dian: Thank god.
DM: Which is good, because it came up ‘torrential storm’.
Dian: Motherf—
Ralth: The last day of the month? I need to go to – I mean, uhhhh, I need to go for a walk.

Ralth and the DM argue over what constitutes adequate miming of walking. Dian honks his nose loudly, annoying the transcriber, but he apologizes.

DM: You head off to the innocent storefront, the Haberdashers, that is in fact the front for the Thieves’ Guild. You step inside, give the appropriate password—
Ralth: Burglar my nurglar, shurglar.
DM: NO. You’re thrown out! The password is a complicated system of phrases and month. On the 29th of Psireach you must ask to buy a bonnet for your elderly grandmother.
Ralth: “My, eh, grandmother, she needs a bonnet.”
DM: “Is she elderly?”
Ralth: “She is VERY elderly.”
DM: “Well, I believe have some suited right here in the back, come on!”

Ralth steps back to see the boss to inform him of the halfling assassin who snuck into their basement. The boss agrees to make sure these words get put through the proper channels.

Ralth: “Any reports from the Leaf Empire? Anything for me specifically?”
DM: “Nothing official from there.”
Ralth: “How about… unofficial?”
DM: “I’m having trouble remembering.”
Ralth: “… I see.” (flipping him a coin)

The boss tells Ralth of priest-backed turmoil trying to put a new person on the throne. Dian takes this opportunity to go speak to their patron, Vexian.

DM: It’s a simple matter to gain admittance to his chambers, but when you do you find the air overhead is thick with clouds that seem to be carrying a great deal of moisture. The air is hot, oddly humid, oppressive.
Dian: Is he… not happy to see me?
Ralth: “Who dares disturb my slumber?!”
Dian: He’s been waiting for this opportunity to get me alone.
Ralth: “What happened to Dian.”
DM: “He WANDERED. OFF.”
Dian: Right when he got decent, too. “Make a decent character, will you?” Nom!
DM: Roll a samurai!
Dian: Fuck you.
DM: He turns to face you as you enter. “I apologize for the weather, I’ve been dabbling in weather-control magics.”
Dian: “Well, that’s actually what I came to discuss with you.”
DM: “What a coincidence?”
Dian: “Indeed.”
DM: “What is afoot?”
Dian: “I’ve been meaning for some time to ask you in more detail about what your research is currently… uh…” Man, it’s hard to think ahead AND do the voice at the same time. I don’t know how you pull it off!
DM: I have a very limited repertoire. “I have the deep-voice guy.” “Got the gnomes and the haflings!”
Dian: “Yes. I’ve been meaning to ask you in more detail about the nature of your research.”
DM: “As it happens, I am a generalist by nature. I do not specialize nor focus in any particular form. My research is governed by my own whims than anything. Today it’s weather control. This was in large part inspired by your comrade’s request to create a more pleasant environment for him given that his scales tend to dry out in a normal desert environment.”
Dain: “He is rather particular, isn’t he.”
DM: “I’ve been pursuing this particular area since that time. Prior to that, and one of my longest-standing research areas, has been of magical items, particularly those that gain more power not through the enchantments they possess, but through the deeds their wielders perform. You may recall your first mission was to retrieve an axe that fulfilled this particular requirement.”

A very long pause, as Dian tries to remember that far back. The two of them discuss legacy weapons, in so many terms, for a little bit.

Dian: …am I still Lawful Good?
DM: …I assume so…
Dian: Okay. I was rolling to see if my next question was going to be vague or straight out. “It is time for me to be straightforward with you. You are aware of the circumstances of my rebirth?”
DM: “In general or in specific?”
Dian: “In general.”
DM: “I am aware of how dragonborn come to gain their particular nature…”
Sargassas: When father dragons and mommy humans get together…
DM: “Get out of here, Sargassas, I don’t want you here.”
Dian: You’re gonna make him reconsider his current pet project.
DM: “I have created the Storm of Sargassas-Seeking.” “Oh, it constantly provides a constant misty rain?” “No. Lightning.”
Dian: “At the time of my rebirth, I was given a task by the Lord Bahamut.”
DM: “I assume one relevant to me.”
Dian: “You assume correctly. I was given the charge of determining whether or not you could be redeemed.”
Sargassas: That’s when he gets angry and kills you.
DM: HOW DARE—
Dian: Well, that’s not the way to talk to dragons. I should be more unctuous and flattering.
Sargassas: There’s a sign back there that says, “We kill the messenger.”
Dian: Hey, I’m not looking at him with, like, one of my eyebrows cocked or any of the way my character USED to talk to him.
Sargassas: Look out behind you, there might be a pit. “Earth and water!?”
DM: “This does not surprise me in the slightest.”
Dian: “For what reason would you need to be redeemed?”
DM: “I would assume that Bahamut, seeing that I no longer follow his dark counterpart, wishes to know if that could be taken all the way, if I could become a force of shining good and light. On the other hand I don’t know exactly what he’s looking for.”
Dian: “Nor do I.”
DM: “He may settle simply for me no longer serving the Dark Queen.”
Dian: “That in and of itself is amazing—“
Sargassas: Megatron.
Dian: He—sshhh, you--! “That in itself would be nothing short of amazing, although I of all should know that it is far from impossible for the proverbial leopard to change its spot.”
DM: “You have been blunt so, so shall I. I have not followed the Dark Queen in a hundred years ago. I abandoned her when the study of magic took greater precedence, as well as other reasons. In fact, were I to step far outside of the Adventurers’ Guild, and the various protections it provides, I would almost certainly be hunted down by several of her best and most skilled minions as a punishment for my betrayal. The pursuit of magic is my love and my obsession now. So long as I have that I am perfectly content with the choices I have made. Beyond that I do not intend to be a force in this world for good or for evil.”
Dian: “My inability to affect the process of your decision notwithstanding, this is more than satisfactory for my curiosities, for now.”
DM: “I’m glad I could answer to your satisfaction. I do enjoy these discussions.”
Dian: (pausing to interpret this) How about a handout?

Sargassas slavers over the halfling corpse from the basement. Khoriane purchases a crossbow, and the group is surprised there’s no haggling or wacky NPCs there.

DM: If I haggle with her for every detail I assume you guys will get fed up and turn. It’s only fun when there’s two or more of you there. Especially if one of you is easily frustrated. (looking pointedly at Sargassas)
Sargassas: You want me to join?
DM: The rule is, any time someone goes to haggle for a purchase, Sargassas has to go.

The group cheerfully mocks Sargassas for a moment. The DM spins flavor text about the evening of the holiday, and then the celebrations the next day! Cheltenbourne makes breakfast!

DM: “Special treat for you guys this morning!”
Dian: Uh-oh!
DM: He begins to serve out portions of what appear to be egg, though clearly the egg this came from was probably the size of Ralth at a minimum. One egg is serving all of you.
Dian: That’s a lot of egg.
Khoriane: “Where’d you get this from?”
DM: “Bought it special from a shop. There was a sale.”
Khoriane: “Okay, what kind of egg IS it?”
DM: “Dinosaur.”
Dian: He served us a dinosaur egg for breakfast. How does he keep finding ways to outdo himself?
Khoriane: He’s just that fucking good, and god damn it we have an excellent chef.

Someone feels obligated to play the Ewok victory song from Return of the Jedi as an example of the ongoing festivities. They cheerfully split up to spend the morning exploring the festival. Sargassas is unable to find sentient humanoid flesh, to his dismay.

DM: You know, I like how now that Iglar’s gone, YOU’re the one they have to send Khori out to be the brain of.
Sargassas: Hey, I’m not gonna get in trouble, I’m smart enough to get out of trouble.
Khoriane: Okay, Aiden.

The group heads down to see Vexian after the morning passes in a furious handwave. Vexian tells them they shall be going to a town called Riverside, but otherwise has little information for them.

DM: “However, I do have some good news for you.”
Ralth: “I just saved fifteen percent on car insurance.”
DM: “By transforming to a gecko.” (taking his best shot at the Geico mascot’s voice) “Right, now then… you’ve got to get his necromancer. Funny thing, necromancer. They control the undead. Undead, d’ya ever think about that? Not dead, but not alive.”
Ralth: “Please change back.”

Vexian tells him that he’s arranged for a replacement for Iglar, who will be waiting for them in the foyer. Unsurprisingly, the DM then shifts focus!

DM: Max!
Max: My name is Eduardo Francesco Fernando Jose Sanchez the Third—
DM: (cheerfully) I don’t care.

Max heads up to greet his new group!

Sargassas: (inexplicably sounding Spanish) “Holy shit, what is that thing?!”
Ralth: Hory shit?
DM: I know, where did THAT accent come from?
Sargassas: “I am shocks by that thing, it’s even bigger than Iglar!”
Khoriane: “Looking up like this is gonna give me a crick in the neck.”

The group cheerfully describes themselves for Max’s sake, diverse group that they are. Sargassas immediately proposes using Max as their own riding beast.

Max: “My name is Eduardo Francesco Fernando Jose Sanchez the Third—“
Ralth: “Hi Max!”
Max: … all right, guess I’m Max.

A long pause ensues, as the group waits for the DM to do something and the DM waits for the group to do something. Finally, the DM sighs at their lack of initiative.

DM: All right, where are you doing?
Ralth: We’re going to where we need to go?
DM: Where’s that? Pop quiz!
Sargassas: The teleportation room.
Dian: “To be sent to Riverside. Which is no relation to Bayside. We will not be fighting A.C. Slater, or—“ (unable to keep a straight face any longer)
DM: You hear a fearsome screech in the distance.
Dian: “He has woken in the morning, and his dog has eaten all his homework. We will be fighting a necromancer known as Belding.”

The group is teleported off, as Sargassas happily imagines Riverside to be a gnome village which Max would stomp through, crushing all beneath his feet. It is not. The town appears to be in rough shape, and it looks like there are several spots where portions of it have been burned to the ground.

Sargassas: “Seems this necromancer’s caused a lots of damage. Perhaps, maybe we finds survivors. Hellos! Adventurers for hire!”
DM: You shout at the town… from on the other side of the river. Well out of town.
Sargassas: I thought we were IN the town.
DM: No, you were dropped outside of it, out of respect for the image that all of you dropping into the middle of town might cause a bit of a panic.
Sargassas: What about the first adventure we did?! Right in the middle of a crossroad!
DM: Your first sight of any of the townsfolk is what appears to be a man struggling to get a wagon out of a deep rut in the road. “Pull, Bessie!” The oxen up front doesn’t seem to be paying any attention to his commands.
Max: “Would you like a hand with that?”
DM: “OH SHIT!” He turns and runs like hell for the center of town. “OGRE ATTACK! OGRE ATTACK! RUN FOR THE HILLS!”
Khoriane: “Stop, stop, stop!” I’m flying after him at top speed.
Max: (disgusted sigh)
Ralth: “Quick, blast him! That’ll make him change his ways!”
Khoriane: “I’m not gonna blast him!”
DM: “HELP EVIL FAIRY!” His screams are attracting a lot of attention! People burst out of doors and onto the street, piling out of the houses and places of business nearby.
Ralth: I’m right behind. “Hiiii!”
DM: “HALFLING!”
Ralth: “Damn it!”
Sargassas: It’s only getting worse…
Khoriane: It really is.
Sargassas: “His.” “MAN-EATING LIZARDMAN!” Why don’t we have a human?! We need a face man in this fucking party.

Max, undeterred, attempts to haul the cart out, then rolls miserably poorly. Sargassas casually shoves it and rolls better, making him look foolish.

DM: After a few minutes of you pushing the cart out, you see marching in disarray a few lines of people carrying pitchforks. They’re cowering behind whatever makeshifts objects they could finds—
Ralth: (accusingly) Is this the encounter you made?
Sargassas: “Hear mes! Am cleric of nature! We only come to help from the guild!”
DM: (vague muttering noises)
Ralth: (holding his hand up to indicate display of the insignia) Shiiiiine.
DM: “He’s got the symbol!” “He might have faked it.” “Yeah, those halflings, you can’t trust ‘em.” “Halflings are tricky, right?” “Maybe he knows magic.” “Yeah, halfling magic! That could fake a guild insignia, right?”
Ralth: “I don’t know magic!”
DM: “He says he doesn’t know magic!” “I think he can hear us.” “Oh shit!”

Sargassas’s Diplomacy calms the townsfolk down enough for them to talk a little more civilly. They claim they have seen no undead and demand the PCs throw down their weapons. The PCs are understandably reluctant, but suddenly a portly man pushes to the front.

DM: “Gentleman, gentleman, and lady of course, you are the representatives of the Adventurers’ Guild!”
Sargassas: “Yes.”
DM: “Well, I do apologize for my townpeople, they’re really quite astonished by your mighty appearances, and so forth!” (in an undertone) “Get out of here, guys…”

The mayor immediately starts to schmooze the holy hell out of the group. He advises them that the necromancer is holed up in a mountain fortress, and that a powerful mercenary group works for him, but he knows where the back door is!

Dian: Stand by the gray stone when the thrush knocks…
Sargassas: “But what of your town?” There’s still smoke and buildings…
DM: There’s just some charred areas.
Khoriane: “What happened there?”
DM: “Oh, fire. Fire.”
Khoriane: “Accidental or set?”
DM: “As far as we know, accidental! You know how it happens…”
Khoriane: “Lightning.”
DM: “Sparks shoot out of a fireplace or a stove gets too hot or a chimney is blocked. I’m afraid our chimney code’s not been very good lately. It costs SO much to have someone come in and sweep it out. We don’t really have much of a chimney sweep in this area.”

A long pause.

Ralth: “Backdoooooor?”
DM: Who did you say that to?
Ralth: Him! You just stopped all of a sudden!
DM: I was giving you a chance to respond!
Ralth: (flat, bored, and quickly) “Yes, fires happen all the time, now what about that back door?”

The mayor tells them in too much detail about a cavern in the mountainside that used to be the town’s safe haven, that had a back door into the mountain. That back door, he tells them, should connect into the cavern complex that also connects into the fortress. He also names the mercenaries as “the Black Company”, which Sargassas rolls to determine is not a lizardman company. The transcriber discovers to his alarm that he has filled something like 60GB of drive space with game reports and has none left, and hurriedly pauses the game to clear some space out. Amazingly, nothing is lost or damaged and the game picks up directly!

DM: “I’ll be happy to make sure you have adequate directions to it.”
Ralth: “How far IS it?”
DM: “A few miles. It’s up in the mountains.”
Sargassas: In fact, here are three young boys to show you the way…
Dian: Fuck you! Nothing but dungeons from here on out! You think I’m joking?!
DM: Nothing but golems from here on out.
Sargassas: That would be too risky for Sargassas. We get there… “What happen to our friend?” “I don’t know,” there’s like a finger sticking out of my mouth.
Dian: Golems and rust monsters for you to the end of the campaign!

Off they go, following the stream up into the mountain! They at last reach a spot where it comes over a cliff, which Dian eagerly moves to jump up, trying out his new build and Jump-enhancing boots. He leaps lightly up it thanks to the 10’ enhancement on his jumps from one of his stances. Max attempts to jump up without a running start, and comes up one short on his roll; consequently he just clambers up. Ahead of them, they spot the large cavern in front of them. Sargassas bursts into coughing.

Dian: You all right?
Sargassas: Yeah -- (cough) -- maybe -- (cough) -- I don’t know any more…
DM: “This description angers me! How dare you place a river!”
Ralth: Wrong pipe?
Sargassas: Yeah…
DM: He’s furious at this adventure!
Sargassas: (whimpers)
Max: Can you breathe?
Sagrassas: Yeah, shut up a sec!
DM: Furious!
Khoriane: DM, shut up.
DM: Ghoere!
Sargassas: My stomach thought it’d be hilarious if my lungs got a taste of what I was eating.

Suspicious, the group attempts to determine what’s in the cavern from a distance, but unsurprisingly their efforts come to naught from this distance. Ralth sneaks forward, and with a Spot check sees that the entrance has both been artificially enlarged, and weathered since that time. His Search check reveals the tracks of animals heading in.

DM: The rock comes alive.
Max: It’s a golem!
DM: An earth elemental inhabited by a golem! Or vice versa! I’m not sure! I was pretty drunk when I wrote this thing!
Khoriane: Nooooooooooo shit.

Ralth reports back, and with no immediate threat, the group moves closer. Sargassas identifies the tracks as various animals, the most fearsome of which is a black bear! The DM kicks them all off the table to draw the map – the cavern is, as it turns out, very large. Water trickles from above to a pond, and a tall ledge runs around the cavern’s entire circumference, though the floor is deeper. There is another room off to the side, and a slippery area around the pool. Sargassas looks for routes down to the cave floor.

Sargassas: So we can climb down here—
DM: You can travel down that ledge, it’s just going to require a Balance or a Climb check.
Sargassas: (pointing to a spot off to the right) So we can just climb down here?
DM: Right in front of you is a sloping ledge—
Sargassas: Right. I don’t want to slide, and then hit this slippery slide, and then smash into a wall.
DM: (watching Sargassas trace a curved route around the pond) Why would your momentum change like that?
Sargassas: I don’t know, but see, if I fall here, oh no, I take a small amount of falling damage and get back up.

Still looking for the trick, the group tries to spot traps and danger on the ground, but spies nothing particularly evil. Max climbs down to the ground, discovering as he does that the walls are pretty slippery. The rest of the group advances forward along the ledge to the right. Sargassas peers into the side room, and on discovering it’s dark, lobs in a sunrod.

Dian: And the bear emerges!
DM: You roll the sunrod in there, and immediately, a million gleaming reflections, or so it seems-
Dian: Bats.
DM: Strikes the sunrod. It has rolled directly into a massive pile of gold.

A pause.

Dian: Trap. Trap trap trap trap! All my rogue instincts are like “Oh god!”
DM: Even as you do this, you hear a massive crash and clatter. High up over here, a ledge far above the surface of the ground which you hadn’t noticed up until that point… Rocks pour off of it, and a massive winged form leaps from it. (putting down the dragon mini)
Dian: We’ve stolen the dragon’s treasure!
DM: “Well then a group of thieves.”
Ralth: “Nope, just one.”
DM: “Did you think to rob while we were out? Or did you come to avenge the treasure we’ve taken from that feeble little town down by the stream?”
Dian: So the dragon is a mercenary?
DM: “Either way—“
Sargassas: “Waits waits waits waits. The thief calls us a thief?”
DM: “We’re dragons. We plunder. We’re plunderers. Rapacious lizards.”
Ralth: “Who’s this, uh, ‘we’ we speak of?”
DM: (laughing) “Well then? Are you here to fight? Are you here to fight or would you like to plead for your pathetic, miserable lives?”
Dian: I rolled a 20 on my initiative. That’s my answer.

With initiative rolled, Sargassas and Dian take their actions first. The dragon has landed by the entrance, far away from them. Khoriane rolls well enough to know they’re fire types and take extra damage from ice. Sargassas drops down a fog cloud to block line of sight between then and it, engulfing Dian as he moved forward. The dragon advances forward to the spot where Dian had reached, and bites him for 20. Khoriane fires blindly through the fog cloud, and with some luck, hits the dragon for 19.

DM: Bulk! What are you doing?
Khoriane: Trying to find Skull.
Max: …I gotta climb.

He takes the penalty to hastily climb and scrambles up the wall. Ralth slams a Blur potion and dives into the cloud.

DM: Just as Ralth bursts into the cover of the fog cloud, another immense crash and rumble echoes from this side, as from another ledge, even higher up, stones and rocks fall. A second rock bursts out! (putting down a horribly unsuited mini) I only have this thing, so, it’s a dragon.

The dragon breathes fire down at the cluster near the fog cloud! Sargassas is furious as he is forced to roll a Reflex saving through. He takes 23, Khori takes 11, Ralth evades entirely. The dragon wingovers and flies deeper into the cave.

DM: This dragon down here screams at the other one in Draconic, looking away from you a brief moment.
Sargassas: I understand him.
Khoriane: What is he saying?
Sargassas: I understand him.
DM: “You idiot, you’ll wreck their treasure!”

A supremely irritated Sargassas reconciles himself to casting healing spells. Dian uses a maneuver to jump-attack it.

DM: As you leap up into the air, the dragon looks surprised for one horrific moment before you descend on it and hammer your fist into it. You hammer it so hard its jaw bounces off the ground and it rears back in surprise.

Dian ducks back into the fog cloud, dodging an AOO and yelling taunts! Khoriane uses her robes to Blur.

DM: “Are you sure you don’t want to burn their treasure now?” “Oh shut up!”
Max: All I hear is “Aaaaargh!” “Raaaawgh!”
Dian: “Come back and fight like a wyrm!” Oh wait, that IS what they’re doing. Ten levels from now I can just fly after them, I can’t fucking wait.

Max attempts to climb up again, but falls this time, and takes 4 damage from falling on his ass. Angered, he whips out his grappling hook and lobs it up instead. Ralth cheerfully moves his mini out the cavern opening (in jest, it must be understood).

DM: “I’ll show you how a REAL fight goes!” (moving the mini to the ledge next to Max – and knocking down his miniature, to everyone’s amusement) The dragon lands next to you on the ledge, bellowing out a roar of challenge before reaching out to sink its massive fangs into you. Armor Class!
Max: 21.
DM: Sinking in quite successfully I might add!
Max: Wow, I like how he didn’t have to roll on that one.
Sargassas: All we here is this: “What’s your armor class? Successful attack!”
Dian: I’m just going to erase my AC from my sheet.
DM: 18 points of damage!

Dian takes a mighty leap off of the clip and uses the Shadow Garrote maneuver to damage a dragon at range!

DM: Good luck missing a fucking dragon on a ranged touch attack.
Dian: I may just have done it. 10.
DM: You hit.
Dian: Wow. This is still a decommissioned die. 20 damage and have him make his Fortitude save. DC 18.
DM: He failed it.
Dian: He’s flatfooted.
Sargassas: Does that mean he fell to the ground?!
DM: Yes. And Jesus, did I roll good on the falling damage. He takes 18 points of falling damage.
Dian: Who’d have thought Force Choke would work on a dragon?!

Sargasses fires a crossbow… for three points of damage. He and the dragon exchange narrative insults as the dragon picks himself up and launches a breath weapon cone that catches four of them (though the ones on the ledge get a bonus). Sargassas again rages at his Reflex save, but the dragon only does 19 fire damage. Khoriane, on her second or third natural 20 of the fight, crits the dragon for 30.

DM: Bulk! You have a dragon right there!
Max: Smaaaaaash! Power Attack!
Ralth: And now the math!
Max: Now… the math… 43.
DM: You hammer your axe home and it sinks deep into the cleft where the wings and the arm meet the neck. Blood spurts out, fountaining over the blade.
Dian: There’s room for improvement there. Next time, crit that fucker.
DM: Gimme a Spot check real quick.
Dian: “Yep, that’s a claw coming all right!”
DM: You notice, set between its eyes, a crystal gleams a bright green as its teeth slam into you.
Dian: Oh man, make a save of some kind.
Max: Please be a Fortitude save, please be a Fortitude save, that’s the only one I have that’s good.
DM: You take 23 points of damage from its bite. Your AC was 21?
Max: Yeah.
DM: One claw attack misses you entirely. The other one hammers you for 11 points of damage.
Max: A crit? 119!
DM: As its claws hit you, it ducks low to the ground, and its two wings sweep forward, each of them slamming into you.
Sargassas: I told you, Ralth. Wings!
Max: How many attacks does this thing get?!
DM: For a total of 19 points of damage.
Sargassas: He’s not done yet. Tail!
DM: Tail. And its tail sweeps forward, slapping you violently for 8 points of damage.
Max: Jesus Christ.
DM: Dian.
Dian: Got any ideas? Before I throw my life away?
DM: Why do you have that maneuver? “Throw Life Away”! Rip. Hurl!
Dian: Why throw away my life so recklessly?
DM: That’s a question I should ask myself.

Dian hurls himself in a jump-kick, and the dragon misses its AOO! He spins the thing around in midair with his blow. The dragon promptly flies right the hell out the cavern opening.

DM: “Smoke! GET BACK HERE AND FIGHT!”
Dian: Did it say its name? …”Spike”?
Sargassas: Smoke.
Dian: Oh, Smoke. Is that Rain?!
DM: No!

Ralth darts down to the floor and takes off across the room at top speed. The DM apologize to him for how worthless he’s been this fight.

DM: Bulk. You’re highly injured, facing down an enraged dragon you’re probably not gonna be able to attack in one job.
Max: I’m gonna attack his bitch-ass anyways, what else CAN I do?
Ralth: It’s commendable. We’re gonna lose Bulk in the first round.

His blow deals 36 points of damage, and the dragon still stands – and attacks. 22 from the bite; 7 from one claw; 4 points from the second; one wing misses; the second wing strikes for 7…

DM: And the tail slap – oh shit!
Max: Missed?
Sargassas: No, it crit.
DM: Oh thank god, you got lucky. Natural 20… natural 1.

Down goes the half-ogre to -2. Sargassas leaps down, eating some fall damage in his desperation, but heals for 23.

DM: The dragon’s roars of triumph are immediately interrupted as you drop down, and then he surges back awake. The dragon stares a moment, then begins to let out such screaming vile epithets that would make a sailor burst into flames simply from hearing them.
Max: “What did he say?”
Dian: “I cannot repeat such language.”

Dian leaps across the room, while Khori fires her eldritch blast into the fray once again, dealing 20 points of damage.

DM: Bulk, you are on the ground, if you stand up the dragon will get an attack of opportunity on you.
Max: Attack of opportunity means all five, right?
Dian: No, just one.
Sargassas: Oh my god, dragons would be insane!
DM: All it would take is a dragon with Improved Trip…

Max manages to hit nonetheless, though the dragon continues to soldier on. But Ralth, with a hasty Climb, is on the ledge and flanking, for a total of 13 damage!

DM: The dragon rears back, spreading its wings as it prepares to take flight. A look of surprise crosses its face before it collapses limply in front of you. Ralth peers over his back. “Hey guys.” Yanking his daggers free. The field is yours.
Max: “Ohhhhh, it hurts all over!”
DM: And a valuable lesson was learned this day: when the town looks like it’s had sections of it burned, ask more questions.
Ralth: “Yeah yeah, nothing going on here, it’s all natural.”
DM: I had this giant write-up so you could find out about the dragons if you put time and effort into it, and you just fell for the obsequious mayor and went straight up. It was beautiful.
Sargassas: Out of nowhere, you guys watch as Sargassas begins to curse widely in the area. He just realize the mayor lied to us.
DM: Hardcore.
Sargassas: Oh. Oh you know what now? You know how earlier, Ralth, you were saying you should return the gold to the villagers?
Ralth: It’s ours.
Sargassas: It’s all ours.
Ralth: It’s totally justified.

The players badger the DM until he tells them the name of the dead dragon was Pyricide, and are then all incredibly disappointed that it isn’t witty. They head for the treasure!

Ralth: How many stones? How many tapestries?
Dian: Stop! He’ll do it! He’ll convert it on the spot!
DM: You see 180 platinum—
Sargassas: GOOD GOD!
DM: 900 gold, and there is also a bunch of crap in the pile. The part you all love the most.
Ralth: Tapestriiiiiies!
DM: There is an oaken goblet with gold-vine filigree, clearly of elven make.
Max: What is it? Oh crap, the cup Jesus drank out of… What’s it called? The Holy Grail, that’s what we found.
Dian: That’s like the fake Grail, that makes us 1000 years old.
DM: You find a sixth-sized statue of an armored knight.
Sargassas: ANOTHER STATUE! FOR THE FRONT YARD!
DM: On the base there is a name written in the language none of you speak. A polished obsidian egg the size of a man’s fist.
Max: Oh my god can we please raise a pet dragon.
DM: It’s not a dragon egg! It’s obsidian! It’s on a base of honey-mountain birch. A linen tapestry—

Sargassas and Dian get into a loud, furious argument over eating versus punching a dragon egg.

Max: (who actually listened to the description) It’s a tapestry of a red dragon breathing fire on a town.
Dian: They had it coming.
Max: We should take it down there and be like, “This is all we found.”
Dian: I’m with Ra’s al-Ghul, justice is balance!

They find a banner, and Ralth rolls to identify the banner. He determines that it is the emblem of Count of Seacrest.

Max: Ryan Seacrest.
Khoriane: Seacrest, out!
DM: Welp. That’s ruined it for everyone. Thank you so goddamn much. A painting of a manor house overlooking the sea.

The DM gets into magic items! A black pearl with an uncomfortable feel, a green oil, and a longsword. The scabbard is leather with silver and gold trimming, and the crosspiece looks like feathered wings of amazing quality and detail. The hilt is wire-wrapped, and the pommelstone is a crystal so pure it is almost transparent.

Sargassas: (totally out of left field) Is anyone actually hitting on the blacksmith chick? Like, seriously?
Ralth: No…
Sargassas: Okay, never mind, we’ll sell it to her.
DM: What the fu—why wouldn’t you have?!
Sargassas: I’m saying, if someone was trying to hit on her, they could give it to her as a gift, get brownie points…

The group dissolves into a paranoid fantasy of the two dragons they just defeated being positively connected to Vexian somehow. Ralth seems to hear whispering as he takes the sword. After entirely too much arguing, Ralth finally draws the sword.

Dian: “I am the ghost of Jack Kent Cooke!”
Sargassas: No, we gotta bring him back... (putting his hand over his mouth and yelling incoherently)
DM: You draw the sword… awkwardly.
Sargassas: We all watch in anticipation instead of helping him.
Ralth: That’s right. Screw you guys.
DM: As you draw the sword, the whispering resolves into a clear female voice. “Are you the Count of Seacrest?”

A long pause.

Dian: Ralth, when someone asks you if you’re a Count, you say yes!
DM: “Return me to my rightful owner.”
Ralth: “Sure thing, baby.” (resheathing it)

Ralth casually beats the sword’s Ego with his saving throw. With time grown late and victory claimed, the game ends here!