I say this a lot, but it’s a sad fact of life: a six-person, sometimes seven-person gaming group means that real life has that many more chances to interfere. With a player on the injured reserve and no good way to adapt any campaign, most of which are mid-adventure after all, a lowly 1st-level game is quickly deployed to cover the gap. Our players are…

Halfdur Ironshaper: Dwarven cleric of Moradin.
Seth Wiley: Whisper gnome ranger pursuing an archery build.
Medium Armored UniLateral Hunter-Killer 17, aka MAUL: Warforged fighter, going down the Juggernaut path.
Count Agni de Archnar: Human psion, telepath focus… also hilariously broke for nobility.
Desmith: Warforged artificer.

Desmith belches for like a minute straight, after which the character introduce themselves.

MAUL: You’re a Count?! That’s awesome.
Desmith: At his level of funds, I’d say he’s more like a NO-ACCOUNT! Okay, I got it out of my system. That’ll last exactly until I get another one in my system,.
DM: Desmith starts with negative 50 experience.
Desmith: Stop that.
Seth: I didn’t want to laugh at that at all, I was like, Jesus Christ.
DM: He’s Halfdur. Not a full Dur, just Halfdur.
Halfdur: All right, I’m changing my name, people keep making fun of it.
Desmith: He’s changing his name to Moron McIdiot. No one will make fun of that god damn it!
Agni: What was your name?
Desmith: Desmith. Like I said, everyone called me “the smith” so much I eventually adopted that as my name.
MAUL: Except south of the border, where you’re Elsmith.
DM: Anyway, Desmith and… (skeptically) MAUL…
Desmith: Too bad you couldn’t have found a good acronym for GHOERE.
MAUL: (gets up and runs for the bathroom)
DM: And now my game is over.
Halfdur: It was so bad you made him sick.
Agni: Come on, DM, you can’t break THIS easily! We’ll never get very far.

Desmith and MAUL have come to this land from a far-off one, on a refugee fleet fleeing a very nasty lich lord.

DM: Like I told Desmith when he was like, “Why would I leave?” Zombies. A rain of fire. A rain of zombies. A rain of flaming zombies.
Desmith: Well, her first answer to me was, “You’re a first level character, you can’t stand up against this.” And I’m like, “WHAT IS IT?! THAT’S NOT ENOUGH INFORMATION!” At which time she gave me the much better answer. (adopting a slow and deep voice for his character) “So we are expatriates. We have no home.”
DM: You’ve been accepted into this nice little land you’ve come too.
Seth: (offering food to Desmith) I present you with… the regret spring roll.

Agni and Halfdur are both delegates from their respective races, come to this nice coastal town with their delegations. Seth, meanwhile, has stopped in for supplies. All of them see posters around the town, requesting aid in dealing with raiders who have been pillaging the countryside. Recognizing the plot hook when they see it, the characters head for the tavern, most of them babbling justifications as they go.

DM: Basically it says, if you’re interested, meet Captain Delwick at the Double-Handled Mug any afternoon…
Seth: The Double-Handed Mug! There’s just two handles on this cup, it’s like a mini-barrel.
DM: It’s like a min-cauldron, it’s supposed to be huge.
Desmith: “MAUL, have you see these posters?”
MAUL: “I have.”
Desmith: “If I know your way of thinking, you’re for the challenge.”
MAUL: “I wish to seek out these meatbags.”
Desmith: “Then it seems I’ll come with you. After all, if you get broken, someone needs to fix you. Perhaps I can find a way to reason with them, although I don’t think that’s very likely. But nevertheless.”
MAUL: “If you must.”
Desmith: “It never hurts to try. Unless they have arrows readied, and release them when we try. Then it hurts.”
Agni: “Ha ha ha. Ha ha. Ha ha ha.”
Desmith: “Who are you?”
Agni: “I’m the mechanical laughter issuing from him.”
Desmith: “Why did you get a separate laugh unit? Do you need me to install it?”
MAUL: “I have a ventriloquist algorithm that my programmer never quite finished.”

The group makes their way singly or in pairs to the inn, which has the obvious symbol on its sign.

Desmith: “Just when I thought I understood human drinking habits, then I see this. Why do they need two handles? Is it a reference to the size? Is the alcohol particularly volatile? Do they need two hands to hold it down?”
Seth: “Excuse me, sir. I know the sign is very interesting but I need to get through. Most people don’t like me walking under their legs, so I usually say ‘excuse me’ before I go ahead and do it anyways.”
Desmith: “Please, step in. I apologize for blocking the way.”
MAUL (as Demisth’s voice slips) Now you’re a Transylvanian robot, what the hell. (pointing to Agni) HE’s the Count.
Seth: ONE fireball! Two! TWO fireballs!
Desmith: Three! Three d6! Ah ah ah!

Stepping into the mostly-empty bar, the group meets the armored Captain by the fireplace. Desmith rambles on for a while based on misunderstanding of the difference between ship captains and military captains. MAUL demands Desmith continue to speak with an accent. Agni bursts in, in a flurry of self-description, and introduces himself to the captain.

Desmith: Halfdur was left behind…
MAUL: Are you a protocol artificer? You’re so well-spoken.

MAUL compares Desmith to Lars, to the former’s horror. Halfdur almost magically appears in the tavern when the DM reveals it is the only source of brew in this town.

Desmith: So you know it intricately. Every liquor-soaked crevice in the floor.
Halfdur: I know where the sawdust is good.
DM: He walks in, and it’s like, “Oh, Halfdur, how ya doing?”
Halfdur: “Another pint please.”
DM: You get the special mug. The one the tavern is named after.
Desmith: “Friend dwarf, I have an inquiry.”
Halfdur: “Aye?”
Desmith: “If you don’t find it offensive of me to say so, your smaller stature would indicate a commiserate greater effect of that volume of alcohol on your physiology than a comparative human, but this doesn’t seem to be the case. Can you offer an explanation? I’m quite curious.”
Halfdur: “I’m a dwarf, lad.”
Desmith: “That in itself is the explanation?”
Halfdur: “Basically, yes.”
Desmith: “Interesting. So dwarves have as part of their natural abilities a greater consumption tolerance for alcohol.”
Halfdur: “We are a heartier race, lad.”
Desmith: “I see. That’s intriguing. Thank you for answering my question. I apologize if it was presumptive. I have been given much to think about…”
DM: “Well I certainly hope you’ll be thinking about my plight as well…”

The captain informs them that there are 2 groups of five or six brigands each. Desmith argues for capture, though the others seem to be leaning towards simply slaying the bandits, since the posters allow for ‘dead or alive’. Seth had spotted the tracks earlier and believes he can lead the group to the bandits. They briefly separate to grab weapons and items.

MAUL: I will simply walk to the edge of town, having no shop to pick things up.
Desmith: And never leaving your weapons behind ever.
MAUL: No, they attack to my body, Robocop style.
Desmith: (mimes a weapon clanging onto his body magnetically)
MAUL: Well, they’re not magnetic.
Desmith: They should be.
MAUL: …yeah.
Halfdur: “Let’s see if we can give dwarves a good name today.”
Desmith: I’d rather they be called dwarves than their current name: assfaces.

Curator jokes are made about the warforged. The group assembles where Seth knew the tracks to be.

Halfdur: “May the Allfather smile upon us this day.”
Desmith: “I—I have no father.”
Halfdur: “No, the Allfather, me god. It’s another name for him.”
Desmith: “Your god is the father of all.”
Halfdur: “All dwarves, yes.”
Desmith: “Oh, only dwarves.”
Halfdur: “Yes, aye.”
Desmith: “He is the father of all dwarves.”
Halfdur: “Aye. He created us.”
Desmith: “The dwarven women must be… lining up? Is that how this functions? Is there… a queue…?”
Seth: “I don’t think you should allow him to put too much thought in this.”
Desmith: “I’m attempting to determine—“
Halfdur: “It’s a – it’s a name, lad. Ages and ages ago.”
Demith:” A metaphor! A metaphor, I comprehend.”
Seth: “I tell you, Halfdur, it is quite nice to be with a dwarf who does not eye me all the time as if I plan on stealing the pants off his legs.”

The DM calls for a Tracking roll from Seth. He follows the bandits down some sort of game trail without much difficulty. Desmith finds it extremely difficult to talk both slowly and quietly. Seth sneaks forward to take point.

DM: Agni, what did you do with your donkey?
Agni: I did not buy a donkey, I didn’t have enough money for a saddle.
Desmith: Aww, poor Agni, he has no one to love now.
DM: (bursts into laughter)

Seth spots an abandoned house up ahead, which Halfdur immediately demands they burn by command of his god. But Seth spots a dead body, with arrows in the back!

Seth: Do I see any horses... sort of parked around?
MAUL They’re hobbled, they’re not parked!
Desmith: (puts another mark on his bingo card)

Seth distantly hears what sounds like a bunch of yipping dogs in the distance. No human voices, just dogs. The group questions why bandits would have shi-tzu guard dogs. In the background, Halfdur and Desmith continue to discuss dwarven drinking habits and religion, while Seth almost trips over another body in the wheat field.

DM: Oh, just so you know, it’s not a female body, it’s another guy. And no, this is not Brokeback Mountain.
Halfdur and Desmith: (completely losing track of their own conversation as they turn to stare)
DM: This is what you get for not paying attention!

Agni produces a psicrystal, to the DM’s alarm and the vast amusement of the other players.

Agni: “This is something I usually keep secret from people, but you are no longer people, but my comrades. This is a crystal. It is my friend.”
MAUL: And you can share with us what it sees and what it knows. Like an entire dungeon layout, for instance.
Desmith: Suddenly it’s become very bitter in here.
MAUL: “I am incapable of bitterness. That is reserved for sulky meatbags.”

Desmith and MAUL debate burning the entire place down wholesale. The crystal reports that the house is empty, so the group enters it to investigate further. Rolling terribly on a Spot check, Desmith steps into a razorwire trap, which just barely fails to penetrate his built-in armor. Members of the group previously unfamiliar with the Eberron campaign setting discover its depictions of airships, and are in awe. Search checks are rolled, most of them terrible.

DM: Agni, as you wander through the house, your foot catches on – okay, you’re in the bedroom, this is closer to the bed, and it’s not a trapdoor but there’s a little hidden area underneath it.
Agni: “Friends, there is a trapdoor over here.”
DM: I guess you could say it’s a trapdoor, but you’re not going down anywhere.
MAUL: Bed. (makes hurling gesture)

The bag contains money in the tune of 10 gp. The group goes back to inspect the bodies again, this time discovering they have armbands – which the DM pretty much overtly tells them is the symbol of the bandits. Startled by this turn of events, the group ponders exactly who could be peppering bandits with small arrows.

DM: Goblins, kobolds…
MAUL: Ill-tempered acupuncturists.
Seth: “Peasant food! PEASANT FOOD?!”

The group hears the yipping once again, and now is certain that their foes are kobolds. Seth Hides, but doesn’t Move Silently as he steps forward to investigate.

Seth: I follow the sound! (making high yipping noises which morph into deep, low woofs)
Desmith: Titanic Saint Bernard.
Agni: Satanic Taint Bernard.
Halfdur: (sighing) I took the ‘taint’ the wrong way…
Desmith: You weren’t the only one who did.
Halfdur: Look at the size of that taint.
Desmith: You’re tracking a happy trail.

As usual, the conversation wanders far afield.

Seth: I wish you guys had met my dog, the dog I had before I died, Henry. He used to bark at anyone wearing a small hat for some reason…. It didn’t what kind of hat, he just hated small hats.
MAUL: So anybody with a sombrero was fine.

Agni’s psicrystal skitters ahead and promptly rolls a 20 to Spot. This accomplishes nothing, but the yips slowly resolve into words in Draconic. The kobolds shout a challenge to Seth, who they’ve heard, and he relays the message for the rest of the group to hurry up through the crystal. Desmith takes a minute to infuse his weapon.

MAUL: “Come, ally meatbags. Let us go destroy enemy meatbags.”

On they charge. Agni drops his clothes, while MAUL spouts movie-robot lines the entire way. Desmith officially declares the best class ever to be a fusion of the Warforged Juggernaut and the Bloodstorm Blade, which fires its fists at range. Seth rolls a relatively poor Spot check and the DM calls for a Reflex save.

Seth: 17.
DM: Okay, you found the pit trap.
MAUL: The kobold pit trap.
DM: The kobold pit trap got Seth. And you are stuck in a pit. It’s ten feet deep. So for him that’s bad!
Seth: I carry a grappling hook and a ton of shit with me, so I can get out!
DM: You can hear the taunts, Seth.
Agni: “It seems he’s fallen into a pit of some sort. I thought he was wily or such?”
Seth: Apparently not.

Seth complains for a while, and the group finds the kobolds having fallen back behind a rocky outcropping. The DM demands initiative! Seth goes first, promptly putting an arrow cleaning through a kobold.

Seth: Not laughing now!
DM: Oh, but there’s a ton of epithets and nasty things to say about you, your parentage, your mother, that sort of thing from the rest of them.
Seth: I don’t understand squeaks and peeps.
DM: You understand Draconic…
Seth: No, I just don’t understand squeaks and peeps from dirtbags. “I hate three things: You, you, you, and you!”
Halfdur: “Not you, you’re cool.”

Halfdur blesses the assembled. The kobolds unleash a flurry of mostly ineffective arrows, but Desmith takes 4 damage. Demith returns fire with his crossbow, slaying one.

MAUL: 30 feet away, I’m going to have to charge over there.
Desmith: (sarcastically) Oh no, you’re going to have to charge.
MAUL: I’m not specialized in that yet!
Seth: It doesn’t matter! Charging’s charging.
Agni: “The time for diplomacy has passed!” Agni focuses his stare on one of the reptilian creatures and assaults its mind!
MAUL: Give ‘em the Care Bear Stare!
Agni: It must make a Will saving through.
MAUL: -- you dissolve its mind?!
Agni: ASSUALT its mind.
MAUL: Oh.
Desmith: I heard ‘dissolve’ too.
MAUL: I was like, ‘that’s AWESOME!’
DM: You succeed in your mental assault. What happens.
Agni: It takes 1d10 damage. 8 points of damage.
DM: It screams in bloodcurdling horror and goes limp.
MAUL: As you dissolve its mind.
Agni: Yes, actually.
MAUL: Greataxe. That’s as much damage as I CAN do… 17?
DM: You pretty much – you turn a kobold into a pile of goo. Congratulations.
MAUL: I STEPPED ON IT?! I just charged up and stepped on one. It’s on the bottom of my foot.

MAUL takes damage from a magic missile, but Seth and his ‘arcane caster’ enmity immediately take down that caster.

Seth: Does a 23 hit it?
MAUL: She’s gonna start telling you ‘no’ if you keep asking that about kobolds.

The kobolds continue to target Seth for their attacks, because kobolds HATE gnomes, and vice-versa.

DM: Because Garl Glittergold is a jackass.
Desmith: That’s true…
MAUL: And they’ve been saying all kinds of things about your mother.
DM: Yes they have.
Seth: That’s okay.
Desmith: They say your mother is the most insulting thing they can think of: a gnome.
Seth: “Your mother is a gnome!” “Well, yeah, she is.”
Desmith: (kobold voice) “And you’re okay with this?”
Seth: “I’d hope she was a gnome. If she was something else and I was born a gnome, I’d be quite curious about what happened.”
Desmith: “We always assumed that being a gnome was like being mentally disabled. Just some unfortunate souls were born with it.”
Seth: “Gnomes are retarded dwarves, is that what you’re trying to say?”
Desmith: “No, gnomes are retarded ANY race.”

Desmith deals 17 points of damage to the kobold thanks to his Bane-infused weapon. Agni actually attempts diplomacy to convince them to surrender! …since Seth is still furiously slaughtering them, it’s pointless.

Agni: Agni’s going to rush up to one of the kobolds and smack him with his quarterstaff.
Desmith: He’s aaaalll out of power for the day.
Agni: He rolls a one!

Desmith mimes him impaling himself accidentally on the quarterstaff, but the DM rules that the kobold simply stabs him opportunistically. With only two targets left, Seth picks one at random, and promptly rolls to hit.

Seth: Is this a d10? Yes it is! I’m like, what’s a zero?! Is that EXTRA fail?!

For some reason, MAUL fires up the Transformers theme from the movie. The last kobold delivers a point of damage to Seth before Desmith crits him.

Desmith: Damn! 27 points of damage to him.
DM: What were you hitting him with?
Desmith: A crossbow bolt.
Seth: No. He’s lying. He hit him with a BALLISTA bolt.
DM: Yeah, that’s what it looks like.
Desmith: “MAUL, please deliver a ‘one-liner’ on my behalf. I’m unaware of the conventions for delivering them. You seem to have a greater knack with them.”
Seth: “What is the name of your creator? You know, the factory. I need to write them a letter. They need to program you for more knowledge.”

Seth identifies some dire weasel tracks but the group refuses to head so far out of their challenge rating. The group agrees to return to the Captain to relay this information, it being different than expected. Shocked by this news, she nevertheless deftly fends off Agni’s efforts to persuade her to pay them for killing the kobolds. They sell the incredibly valuable gem, experience is awarded, and plans are made to sweep Agni under the rug for the next adventure if he’s not here. You know, the important things…