Khor: Whose game is it?
Banorm and Aliz: This DM’s game!
Khor: Impossible! This DM doesn’t have a game!
DM: There once was a game! The game that was once is run again.
Rhuarc: Once there were a man.
Khor: There once was a game from Nantucket…

The game has been resurrected from years past for the glory and delight of the players! No one remembers a damn thing. The DM starts off with a four-week period of downtime for the characters, during which they are free to do as they wish – the DM encourages them to practice their trades and do their own thing. Khor also has a meeting of sorts with his druidic mentor.

DM: It’s very secretive, no druid actually knows who another druid is.
Khor: We all wear hoods really low.
DM: And masks, too. Traditionally of wood or other natural material.
Khor: That’s why I have Craft(carpentry). I make my own masks. Let’s just say the masks that I make now are better than the masks I started out with and leave it at that.
DM: Your friends knowing you’re a druid is kind of—
Khor: They don’t know I’m a druid, I’ve never said a damn thing or cast a spell in front of them.
DM: You cast shillelagh, how does that work?
Rhuarc: Shillelagh. (snickering)

Khor reaches for a Player’s Handbook; Aliz plays keepaway with it. Khor looks past him.

Khor: Banorm, smack him.
Banorm: (obligingly does, causing the PHB to fall into Khor’s hands)
Aliz: God damn it!
Khor: (singing in poor imitation of Jack Black) That’s fucking TEAMWORK!

The DM relates to Khor about his wakening in the middle of the night by druidic magic, and running through the night in pursuit of a vision that leads him to a meeting with other druids. Much of this roleplaying is lost to the ages, as the rest of the group is busy loudly looking up the ‘heil five’ in the Urban Dictionary.

DM: As you move forward towards the stones, several figures emerge. “Welcome, brother. We congratulate you on your deeds against a necromancer from the East.” They sort of motion you forward. You notice they have different masks. The first mask, you know, is your master. The other one has a bearskin mask, and the other ones have wooden masks. There are six figures total. One of the wooden masked druids speaks in a woman’s voice, and says, “We have talked about this and decided to post a watch in the East. We asked our eagle friends to send an eagle to watch for the next few weeks. But please tell us more details about your encounter.”
Khor: I… tell them, in more detail than I have, since it was only a little while ago for my character, and might as well have been a lifetime for me.
DM: Yes, yes! So. You mention that the necromancer took the shape of a druid to try to beguile you and gain information from you. You also tell them that you saw a crow or raven flying high during the battle with the undead, perhaps a scout of the necromancer.
Khor: …I was very perceptive back then.

The druids listen, vow to continue to watch as far as their power extends, then bid Khor to kneel, since he’s leveled up.

DM: “Kneel, and receive the staff.”
Khor: I kneel. Awkwardly putting away my own staff…
DM: Fortunately for you, you don’t have to really do that. Receiving the staff means that you get tapped lightly on the head by your master, recognizing your achievements.
Khor: As long as he uses a quarterstaff, and not his ‘natural weapon’.
Aliz: You are dead.
DM: At this point you wake up back in your little shelter.
Khor: Wish I’d fallen asleep first…
DM: No, it wasn’t necessary. Willow, for you the recognition of your achievements takes a slightly more formal…
Willow: I get to do more work?
DM: The work you’ve done to get this far is considered sufficient. The rangers, all six of them, get together outside the town in a favorite clearing of theirs and have a nice afternoon shooting bows, sparring with quarterstaves and the like… at the end of which you’re proclaimed a hunter-sister, someone who has definitely proved themselves in combat, and you’re assigned a partner. His name is Idir. He’s very quiet so no one knows a lot about him.
Khor: Oh look who got the Leadership feat for free.
Willow: How do you spell his name now?
DM: I-D-I-R.
Khor: I-D-I-O-T.
Willow: Shut up, Khor.
Khor: By the way, his Intelligence is low, just so you know.
Willow: I’m used to that, I hang around with you.

Rhuarc, I think, has a strange dream where dwarves tell him to find iron and a massive creature paves a road through the forest and erects a massive throne. I’m paraphrasing here. The DM inquires as to who is taking what actions everyone will take till the midsummer festival. Aliz elects to play his instrument, and the rules are quickly dug up.

Aliz: 25.
Khor: A memorable performance, you can earn 1d6 gp per day.
Aliz: Awesome.
Khor: In a prosperous city.
Aliz: What kind of city are we in?
Willow: Not prosperous.
DM: Let’s say you earn half that.

Banorm decides to smith for gold and to make Rhuarc a masterwork chain shirt, which is a more complicated process than it really ought to be. Khor does two weeks of carpentry, and spends two weeks scouting the eastern pass.

DM: Not a lot of change there during that time, things seem quiet. You do, on one of your visits, visit the half-elf who is living with the older crone.
Khor: The one that I routinely mocked and harassed?
DM: The one that you routinely mocked and harassed.
Khor: Oh yeah, I’m visiting him. Man, what am I thinking>
DM: Not visiting, you’re checking in. About halfway through this period, you find the dwelling abandoned.
Khor: Hmmmmmm.
Aliz: (looking at the map) Damn, Khor lives pretty far fucking out of town.
DM: You always suspected that he would run off and live with the elves, his ilk, who do practice their strange ways, but are surprised to find that Konnay is not there, the old woman who seemed very capable of taking care of herself in the woods. Aliz, about a week before the festival, just as you are making sure that all the instruments are properly tuned, and doing your vocal exercises in the morning to make sure your voice is like that of a songbird, your sister pulls you aside and whispers to you. “Brother, listen. My love has escaped from the care of the old crone. I have to thank you, I figured out that someone helped him. I suspect it was you.” You did give him a knife or a dagger or something when you guys were visiting…
Khor: Oh god, did he kill the crone? I was investigating their hut, by the way.
Aliz: Did I help him? I don’t remember…
DM: You helped him, ‘cuz he was sort of whining, and you said, “Okay, if you are a man, you will escape from here.”
Aliz: A bard telling someone else they’re a man? It seems weird.
DM: A bard… you respect love. You have to respect love as a bard.
Khor: You were kinda passive-aggressive during that whole conversation. Trying to goad him to be a man and at the same time trying to keep him the hell away from your sister.
Aliz: “Be a man with ANOTHER girl.”
DM: There are no signs of foul play. It seems like someone seems to have left the hut and tied the door shut with a bit of rope so no wildlife gets in, but no one has any problems going in and out if they were determined to. You also investigate the half-elf’s prison and find no signs of digging out, cutting out, or anything. It seems it was just opened and he walked out.
Khor: I’ll be casting speak with animals and interrogating the local wildlife.
Aliz: “WHAT DID YOU SEE, SQUIRREL?!” “AAAAH!”
Khor: See what they know about that, and see if anything strange has come through the pass recently.
Aliz: I just imagine him interrogating all these woodland creatures who just happen to be nearby when he was going through.
DM: Oh, interesting move. All right… It takes you a couple of days to find a relevant squirrel but there is a squirrel who lives close enough—
Aliz: There’re all these coked-up squirrels. “Yeah I saw it!”
Khor: “All right, squirrel, time for you to become a stool pigeon, see, nyah.”

Khor gets some acorns for the squirrel and pumps it for information, with the group on the edge of furious gigglefits the entire time. The crone has taken off to the north, apparently following the boy. Batman interrogation techniques are discussed.

Khor: “When was this?”
DM: “Some time ago. Squirrels don’t keep count of days, sir.”
Khor: He can give a general estimation, which is helpful.
Rhuarc: How many meals ago? You poor hungry squirrel you…
DM: He recounts every acorn he ate since that time.
Khor: Don’t listen to the mysterious sky voice!

Banorm speaks in the ‘squeaky-voiced teen’ voice, and Khor attempts to slap him. Aliz thinks about this conversation a moment.

Aliz: I don’t understand! They can’t tell time, but they understand the word north and the direction it is?
Khor: I’m speaking their language, so I assume they have some way of knowing where the sun doesn’t set.
Aliz: This motherfucker couldn’t remember where he put his nuts! Talk to a bird, they would know directions!
Khor: A bird didn’t see it, apparently.
Aliz: Dumbass bird…
Khor: You see me wrestling a penguin for information for some reason…
Banorm: “Why are you here?!”
Khor: “What’s black and white and red all over? YOU!”
Aliz: (singing) “It’s Khory… the story… of the shortest-lived druid!”
Khor: My goal in this campaign is to wrestle a penguin…

The trail is too old for Khor’s dog to track. The DM spends a while discussing exactly what kind of dog Khor’s animal companion is. Aliz’s sister begs him not to tell their father.

DM: She promised that she would be okay and you didn’t have to worry about her, and if she goes mushroom-picking and stays out a little too late just cover for her.
Aliz: Don’t get killed, now…
Khor: Yeah, remember the last time you were out and all those goblins showed up.
DM: “I promise I promise I promise I will only go in the middle of the day when there are no goblins and no monsters coming and no orcs have been sighted and – and – and – and please, brother, please?”
Khor: Great. Giants. That’s what we’re going to get.

The sister complains about another unwelcome suitor, and vows that she can somehow manage to get her half-elf’s banishment lifted.

Aliz: My question is how this fool got banished from this podunk town in the first place.
Khor ‘Cuz he was hitting on your sister, remember?
Aliz: Oh that’s right – is my sister the PRINCESS of this town?!
Khor: And then we riled up the town to convince them –
DM: We?! It was Khor!
Khor: Yes, ‘we’ and by ‘we’ I mean me, we riled up the town in a fury of racism to get them to kick him out.

The DM describes her unwelcome suitor as, pretty much, Gaston. Aliz vows vengeance against him just on this description, even as the DM describes how the suitor is kissing Aliz’s ass.

Aliz: Look, I don’t mind this guy, but she’d better convince our father.
Khor: Or your grandfather, that lives inside your father.
Banorm: (bursts into laughter)
Aliz: I tell her that I’ll support her if she talks to her father about this.
Khor: You mean your father?
Aliz: To OUR father.
Khor: Okay.
DM: “Father will never approve. You know how he is about sorcerers, especially after that Khor put on that show in the middle of town.”
Khor: It’s not my fault he used magic to woo her! He should have done it the proper way: with manly deeds instead of shitty poems. It’s his own goddamn fault.
Banorm: No, not like Banorm’s magic, his good healing magic. EEEEVIL magic.
Aliz: Khor’s constantly going around, “Magic’s evil – except for Banorm’s magic!”
Khor: Yours is in tune with the greater sense of all! It’s not a blasphemous invocation that forces the will of the wielder on reality, twisting it and bending into ways it should never be!
Aliz: He’s over there going on about how evil magic is, every now and then he turns to an animal – “Shut up, animal! I didn’t tell you to do that!” You should make a drunken druid that beats up animals. He walks that grey line.
Khor: His animal companion has battered wife syndrome… “Why does your dog have a black eye?” “It fell down the stairs.”

The group takes a while to stop giggling madly. Standard disclaimer about our sense of humor goes here. Aliz refuses to let his sister run away with her suitor, but she’s convinced the banishment will be lifted, just as Khor comes back with the news. The unnamed sister begs for just two hours here and there to meet with him.

Khor: She says two hours, but he’ll only need five minutes.
Banorm: I’ll sneak along, follow them, and cast Impotence on him.
Khor: What spells can I cast on him? Hmm, reduce animal.

People start pouring into town for the festival, which begins in a flurry of flavor text and barbarians. Even the orcs have shown up, apparently, which they do every couple of years to trade.

Banorm: (a la Snoopy Come Home) No orcs allooooooowed.
DM: They don’t really receive a great welcome…

The comparatively peaceful orc tribes seem to want no trouble. Khor and Willow don’t get to enjoy the festival – they have to patrol and deal with the general depredations of the celebrations.

Khor: I have to angrily intervene repeatedly, there’s this one guy who just won’t stop pimp-slapping deer.

Banorm and Aliz settle in to ply their trades and make some moolah. Aliz makes 56 gold, which he tries to claim is 56 platinum.

DM: In addition to all these visitors from the wild, men arrive from the south, from the city of Bhoer. This is somewhat a larger human town, several days of travel, which is ruled by a jarl.
Khor: By Bavin Tael.
DM: Generally the people of Whitehaven – err, Whiterock – look down upon the people of Bhoer because they are ruled by a jarl and they all owe him their allegiance. There is no council of elders that determines things, everything is at the jarl’s whim. They engage in strange practices, such as combat to the death for amusement in festivals. Some stories say that in spring they like to perform a human sacrifice, to ensure their warriors remain strong until next spring. They’ve also been known to take prisoners and keep slaves from the barbarian tribes… Even, some generations ago, they took a dwarf captive and attempted to make him make iron for them.

The DM describes the sun as barely setting at night, causing the players to realize how high up north they are, then waxes eloquent about the events of the day.

DM: This is purely a day of revelry. You could almost say that morals are slightly loosened—
Rhuarc: (knowing laugh)
Banorm: Debauchery!
Rhuarc: Orgies!
Aliz: Debauchery is afoot.
DM: Much mead will come out by the time this day is done.

The DM fails repeatedly to enunciate the “M” in “Games”, leading the “Day of Games” to take on a new and unintended meaning that the players reject. Aliz participates in the log-sprint against a Bhoer and a barbarian.

Willow: Oh, I take it girls aren’t allowed to play in that?
DM: You could compete, except you’re out patrolling.
Aliz: “Can I compete?” “Yeah, sure. Now get back to work!”
Khor: (singing) “They never let poor us guys… join in any human games! Then one bright Midsummer Eve, goblins came to say… ‘Humans, while you’re stinking drunk—‘”… I don’t even know.

The Bhoer falls on his face painfully and Aliz dominates the barbarian.

DM: Your prize is a sable pelt worth 25 gold.
Khor: Your prize is a date with the most eligible woman in town: your sister.
Willow: Khor, shut up.
Aliz: That would be weird… I pass. No, I keep it so no one else can have it.
DM: Does anyone else desire to compete in any of these games?
Khor: I’m not there, I’m preventing goblins from taking advantage of people while they’re drunk!
Rhuarc: Is their wrestling?
DM: There is a wrestling competition, yes.
Rhuarc: Co-ed?
DM: Huh?
Rhuarc: Well, everyone’s drunk.
DM: Only guys have lined up to participate in wrestling.
Rhuarc: Rhuarc shall pass!
DM: There is one particular tall Bhoersman who is throwing everyone around. He seems really well fed—
Khor: Dude. A guy from another town is schooling our men, get your ass IN THERE.
Rhuarc: I’m not even the strongest character—
Khor: Get. Your ass. In.
Aliz: You are the strongest person in town, you have a Strength of 18.
Khor: You are nothing but thews and anger.
Rhuarc: What does the winner get?
DM: One of Banorm’s dwarven companions put up an iron handaxe.
Rhuarc: That’s better than my bronze… or my stone greatsword…
DM: This dwarf has already been disqualified, but he promised the handaxe for whoever—
Rhuarc: Disqualified?!
DM: Oh not – I meant defeated.
Rhuarc: What did he do?!
Khor: He was going down, so he did a Tyson bite…
Rhuarc: “Where’d my finger go?” “It’s in me beard somewhere.”

The group bullies Rhuarc into finally stepping up. And not raging. Tyrgol’s wrestling exhibition is ‘fondly’ remembered. Rhuarc starts off poorly and is pinned, but manages to break out before taking damage. Then he gets pinned again. Then breaks free again.

Rhuarc: Eventually he’ll get tired.
Banorm: This is Tyrgol all over again.
DM: He’s got you in a full-nelson again.
Khor: You didn’t even roll!
DM: Nice try…
Rhuarc: 17 again.
DM: As I was saying…

Rhuarc fails to break free this time, and takes some subdual damage, and the group discovers this opponent also has an 18 Strength. Rhuarc breaks free once more, and finally resists the pin! The battle has attracted a pretty wide audience at this point.

DM: You know, as a barbarian you can call on strength beyond strength—
Khor: And he turns into a raging berserker where he just goes fucking apeshit on the guy.
DM: Oh! He slips and falls!

Rhuarc nails the pin, his foe fails to escape, and Rhuarc deals 5 subdual damage.

DM: He screams! And says, “I give up! I give up! I’m sorry!”
Rhuarc: One little arm-bar?
Banorm: He’s got less hit points than you.
Rhuarc: “What? I can’t hear! I’m starting to rage!”
Khor: Dude, come on, you’re gonna get disqualified.
Rhuarc: Disqualified?!
DM: People around you are yelling, “Kill that Bhoersman!”
Rhuarc: See?! SEE?! SEE?! I’m going to break his arm! 19!
DM: You dislocate his shoulder!
Khor: What’s your alignment?!
Rhuarc: My alignment?! What is it, anyway… Neutral Good.
Khor: It was.
Rhuarc: (sullenly) Okay, I don’t break his shoulder… He was trying to break my neck! I think I can dislocate something!
Khor: Okay, okay! Go ahead, rough him up a little. I’m not there, what the hell can I do?
DM: “Ow! What the hell – no one’s been able to do this!”
Rhuarc: “No one – until now.”
Banorm: “Don’t worry. I’ll put it back in place.”
Khor: “With iron. The god’s blessing.” You just whack him with a hammer to relocate it.

Flush from his victory, the players urge Rhuarc to enter the ball toss, in which he must hurl a stone ball as far as possible.

Rhuarc: I will first seek out some likely-looking sweet maiden to massage the pain from my neck before I attempt to toss the ball.
DM: Or you could have Banorm do it.
Khor: I – I don’t think you understand his motivation…
DM: Maidens are all over you, but no one appears to massage you.

Banorm treats the Bhoersman and receives a bone knife as payment, while Rhuarc rolls terribly to throw the ball – yet, somehow, father than anyone else. Banorm, scenting opportunity, charges forward to hurl the ball and promptly lobs it 20 paces. Unwilling to cede two victories to the PCs, the DM describes an old shaman stepping forward.

Khor: You’re about to get screwed over by barbarian magic, dude.
Banorm: He’s about to get his ass lit on fire. Burning Hands!
Khor: You should cast doom on him.
DM: “Oh spirits! Aid this old barbarian’s throw!” Whoom, thirty paces. The crowd boos. The old man takes the bearskin that was the prize.
Khor: The ladies follow him. Hoping they will make love to him on it. Rhuarc is forgotten.
DM: Rhuarc is still the hero of the day. The stone toss is not as prestigious as the wrestling.
Aliz: “No, ladies, that’s my third leg.”

The woods patrol is quite boring, but Willow and her companion stumble on tracks as if someone approaching the woods. Examining them, she determines that people tried to sneak towards the town, and sends her companion ahead to warn the town. Back in town, Aliz is mobbed for songs, but his sister is headed for the woods, talking animatedly with Turin (aka Gaston).

Aliz: God damn it, why you making me save my sister all the time?! I should be getting bonuses for having this Flaw of – what did they call it in Mage?
Willow: Ward.
Aliz: For this Ward here. I have a Ward in this game, but I ain’t getting’ no bonuses.
Rhuarc: It’s a Flaw as a Ward, but it’s a Merit as a Plot Device. A reusable—
Khor: He sure thinks she’s reusable! Oh! She’ll be taking some bludgeoning damage tonight, if you know what I mean!
Aliz: See? Why? I didn’t want a ward!
DM: You don’t have to do anything. She said that she wouldn’t be away more than two hours.
Aliz: I’m gonna take care of it tonight when she gets home. She just… (a long pause, during which his thoughts grow transparently evil) She died in her sleep. Banorm goes in to do the autopsy: 100 gold says she died in her sleep.
Khor: He’s gonna be gaining a size category THIS way, if you know what I mean.
All: (groaning)
Banorm: Am I the physician of this town?
DM: No, that is Moher, one of the elders.
Khor: Yeah, nobody cares about your real healing, they’ll settle for their herbery and pseudomagic.
DM: You swear that Moher has SOME sort of skill, he’s never let on what skill he had, but has quite a bit of skill. Drug people back from the brink of death, cured all sorts of ailment…

The last contest – a chess precursor sponsored by the wizard – pops up, but he finds himself with very few takers.

Khor: Because everyone knows he’s a horrible loser and he’s just gonna make up the rules as he goes along. “This piece can just destroy any one of your pieces just by looking at it, did I mention that?”
DM: He’s promising a potion that’ll make any man the best lover in 100 miles around.
Willow: Oh, bear’s endurance, huh?
Banorm and Rhuarc: (knowing chuckles)

A Bhoerman challenges the wizard and is swiftly defeated. Rhuarc proposes the Gordian Knot solution, while Khor advises that he play so badly the wizard gets fed up and walks off, leaving the potion for the taking. Banorm decides to get involved (properly), and grasps the rules.

DM: Oh, he makes an obvious mistake!
Rhuarc: It’s a feint!
DM: Do you take advantage of it or do you think it’s a feint? I either rolled a 1 or a 20.
Banorm: I’ll take advantage of it.
DM: He loses four pieces! He grabs his beard in fury. “I can’t believe I did that!”
Banorm: (guffawing. Very literally.)

Aliz attempts to invent the electric guitar, but quickly and mercifully is distracted before he can enslave a gnome wizard for the purpose.

DM: Aliz, about an hour after your sister goes into the woods, your father approaches you. “Have you seen your sister?”
Banorm: Uh-oh.
Khor: Here comes the “Why didn’t you stop her?”.
DM: “She’s not hanging out with that Tourin guy, is she?”
Aliz: “Did you not WANT her to hang out with Tourin?”
DM: “I guess he’s okay, she could do a lot worse.”
Khor: Let’s just say she’s stroking the neck of her own instrument right now, OH!
Aliz: Shouldn’t you be out druiding or something?

A figure comes running out of the woods! The DM confuses Rhuarc and Khor briefly – the ladies are hitting on the former, not the latter, although the group speculates they’ve become enamored of his penguin-wrestling technique. The news of the goblins results in a quick council being formed, and naturally Aliz’s sister and suitor are missing.

Aliz: NO SURPRISE THERE. Aliz is for some reason in the local courthouse, disowning his family.
Khor: Let’s just say that Tourin wants to explore a local cavern, if you know what I mean.
Aliz: God damn it, Khor! How many puns can you just shovel out?!
Banorm: It’s like an endless pit of shit.

DM: Do you guys take upon the task of babysitting and rounding up these youngsters?
Khor: I think we’ve been down this path before.
DM: Now who’s been drinking?

Silence.

Banorm: I’m a dwarf, what the fuck do you THINK I’ve been doing?
DM: Yeah, but that doesn’t matter, it’s not like you need to make a check or anything.
Khor: I’ve been drinking sparking fucking stream water out there on patrol.
Aliz: That’s not good. The stream you were drinking from flows from the tavern’s toilet…

Rhuarc is swiftly ruled tipsy and at -2 to everything, but they set off after Khor’s dog’s nose. An hour finds them much deeper in the woods, now quite certain that something is very wrong. The tracks speak clearly of orcs chasing a human who is chasing another human. Bizarrely, a game of Duck Hunt breaks out. Khor rolls a natural 20 on his Move Silently… though his dog is a lot less quiet. Bad Spot checks ensue as well.

DM: Out of the woods, two javelins come flying out.
Khor: (dramatically mimes knocking them away with his staff)
DM: Ha ha, yeah right.

Aliz discovers the Hulking Hurler prestige class while thumbing through a book, prompting a sudden explosive rant from Khor on how broken the class is. Khor gets crit by a javelin for 8, then they roll initiative as orcs burst from the woods! Aliz, Rhuarc, and Banorm burst into the Song That Never Ends, for completely unknown reasons, until Khor comes up behind them and Stooge-slaps all three of them. With initiative deployed, Aliz steps forward to sing. Willow ducks back behind a rock to snipe.

Khor: …well fuck. I’m eating two charges.
Willow: Natural 20 and an 18, so I think I crit.
Rhuarc: They are immune to critical hits, ha ha!

Willow insists on firing two arrows despite the entire group trying to ask her if Rapid Shot is a full-round action. Rhuarc charges forward, while Khor readies his action to receive a charge. An orc storms forward, and both Khor and his dog miss their AOOs.

DM: He screams and lunges at you with his spear.
Khor: Critting me!
Banorm: Killing you!
Khor: Hand me a character sheet.
DM: Does 14 hit you?
Khor: No! My AC is 15! …actually my dog rolled a 13, I forgot he was covered by bard song.

The other orc stabs Rhuarc for 9 points of damage. Aliz steps forward, and ponders which orc to shoot. Khor immediately advises that he shoot the injured one.

Khor: Two living orcs can do two orcs of damage. One orc can do one orc of damage.

Aliz shoots the injured orc, but fails to slay him.

Khor: Man, this guy is being impaled by more shafts than your sister.
Aliz: Okay, I take my move back, I put an arrow into Khor…
DM: That’s a free action.

Willow deals damage and drops that one finally. Rhuarc rolls his attack.

Rhuarc: I CRIT SOMETHING! And I’m not Wes. This has never happened before. …although mainly because the rest of you throw everything that can’t be crit at us.

Rhuarc destroys the orc with 29 damage, and the group cheerfully loots the masterwork stone weapons. Aliz uses his bardic knowledge to identify these orcs as being from a far tribe that should have no members anywhere near the area. Khor asks them to wait while he investigates something – which is really just casting Eyes of the Avoral on himself to buff his Spot. He realizes they’ve caught up with the orcs, but not their human quarry, and so swiftly casts Omen of Peril to sense their upcoming danger, receiving a report of minor peril.

Khor: I’ll rejoin the group. “It seems there were only two orcs. However, from the way the wind blows in the trees, and… you know, all that other experienced nature crap, I believe we still have danger to face.”
Rhuarc: “Something seems strange to you?”
Khor: “What, I’m used to living out here. You know that.”
Rhuarc: “Of course. I do the same. I think.”
DM: As you guys talk amongst yourselves a bloodcurdling scream rises in the distance.
Khor: “Yeah, like that.”

They charge forward for some distance, but the trail leads down a crevasse to a river. Khor, in the lead, summons a wolf and sends it into an ominous web.

Rhuarc: Why didn’t you summon a PIG? That’s what you like to send into a trap. An innocent pig.
Khor: No more shillelagh for me today.
DM: All right, a wolf shows up and heads down – what do you want it to do exactly, get stuck in the web?
Rhuarc: Sacrifice itself in the web!

A spider drops down from the web, as expected!

DM: It bites the wolf for four damage.
Khor: As I expected!

Willow catches up abruptly, and Khor blandly points out that a wolf is fighting a spider. Willow shoots it; Khor misses with his swing. The DM calls for initiative for the wolf, which blows it badly, and the spider scrambles back into the tree. Khor stubbornly points behind Willow until the player finally looks.

Khor: Oh good, Willow looks away just as the wolf disappears.
Rhuarc: Oh. That’s what he was doing.
Aliz: He’s really trying to hide this magic thing…

Some jokes are made in poor quality. The group does me the courtesy of giving the narrative.

Rhuarc: “The transcriber, in horror, realizes the group is anti-Semite.”
Banorm: “And refuses to write down the following conversation.”
Rhuarc: “Redacts nearly the entire session.”
Aliz: I don’t see how, some of the other sessions were worse.
Banorm: Game report: That report has been redacted.

The group heads down, covering the last known location of the spider, straight into initiative. It rolls terribly on initiative as it descends, and Willow and Rhuarc slaughter it. Onwards they continue – and Rhuarc promptly trips over a silk tripwire.

DM: You fail to spot the thin strand of thick spider—
Aliz: Thin strand. Of thick silk.
DM: The HIDDEN strand of thick spider silk at your feet and you nearly trip, however you do not and manage to keep your footing. Khor, with your trained eyes, you realize what would have happened if he did fall is he would have been stuck in a web which is hidden in leaves and grass on the bottom here, cleverly merged with the surface until you’re stuck in it lying flat on your face.
Khor: Clever girl. …ODDLY clever. This is a bit advanced trapmaking for giant spiders.
Aliz: You are not cool enough to be the hunter from Jurassic Park, sir.

The group stares ahead into the darkness, and Khor complains he can’t cast spells in front of the others. Banorm, luckily, has a light spell and casts it. Spot checks ensue, and a couple people are surprised as the DM digs up spider minis.

DM: There is actually a spider which lurches out of the cave.
Rhuarc: Shelob!
DM: It’s much larger than the other ones that drop down around you.
Willow: Attercop?
DM: “So you’ve come for your friend?”
Rhuarc: It’s a talking spider?
Banorm: “Aww, it talks, too.”
Khor: Shit, and it’s vermin, I can’t use wild empathy on it. I knew I should have taken that alternate class feature that lets me use it on vermin, I just knew it.
Rhuarc: Other than those extraplanar entities, this is the first talking spider I’ve seen at this table. Is this normal?
DM: This thing is not normal. It is almost certainly a spirit taking the shape of a spider.
Rhuarc: In that case, we need Diplomacy. “Well, Mr. Lazy Lob…”
DM: You don’t need Diplomacy, you’re about to be eaten. His words were only in passing as his friends move to attack.

Khor, not surprised, clocks a spider with his staff, while his dog also bites the spider and takes his trip attempt.

Aliz: It’s a multilegged creature, doesn’t it have a ridiculous chance to NOT be tripped?
Khor: Yes!
Aliz: Oh, you pulled one leg, I still got… six more!
Khor: But it’s a free trip attempt.

The PCs exchange blows with the horde of spiders The DM rules that Rhuarc and Khor appear the most appetizing, although Willow narrowly dodges being poisoned.

Rhuarc: Oh, it’s like Scorch… and… Mohinder, whatever the other dragon’s name is.
Aliz: I break into … “SOOOOONG! It’s time to slay the SPIDERS! With a mighty WEAPON!”

To the PCs’ dismay the spider spirit casts Web on them, which hits everyone. The DM calls for Reflex saves, prompting bitter laughter from many. They wade desperately though the webs. Willow, next to a spider, realizes she can’t move away to shoot it.

Willow: Well, then I’m probably going to end up dead, but that’s fine.
DM: Why don’t you just use a melee weapon?
Willow: Because I’m gonna have to drop my bow and probably break it.
Khor: Why would it break just from dropping it?
DM: It’s in the web, just hang it on the web, draw a weapon.

Willow finally draws her short sword and slays the creature. Aliz fires at the big spider, striking it.

DM: Banorm?
Banorm: RAAAARGH! Out of the spiderweb! Natural 20!
Khor: That was your round.
Banorm: But what a glorious round it was.
DM: Banorm, you put up a mighty display of web-snapping. You have cleared a place around yourself.

The spider drops a darkness spell over them, and for some reason the recording craps out. It is quickly restored.

DM: At this point, Khor thinks perhaps he misinterpreted the crow’s cry as an omen of MINOR danger.
Khor: It could be. Lousy 70% chance of success.

Khor also manages some amazing self-freeing. The PCs are still engulfed in darkness, and ponder desperately how to get rid of it. The spider had cast it on a rock, so they decide to throw the rock into the river.

Khor: My dog has Scent, so he can smell what the rock is cooking and will locate it that way.

Everyone gives Khor a dirty look, to which he laughs maniacally. Banorm attempts to kick him out.

DM: What’s the equivalent of a swarm?
Khor: What?
DM: What’s the equivalent of a swarm?
Khor: A swarm.
DM: Like the rats that bit Iglar.
Khor: A swarm.
DM: That’s a spell, right?
Khor: That’s summon swarm.
Banorm: Oh, we don’t have any alchemist’s fire.
Khor: Burning Hands!
Banorm: No, don’t want to waste that…

Khor starts passing books to the DM by throwing them. Willow shrieks in horror at this sight. Somehow a brief argument breaks out over miss chances.

Aliz: I hit it… if high is hit and low is miss.
DM: That’s what it is from now on.
Aliz: That’s the way we always do it!
Khor: I’m gonna say that hit is hit and miss is miss, so if I roll and I hit, then I roll, and I hit.
DM: Hmm. I don’t know if I buy that, but all right.
Khor: He agreed to it?!

The group desperately panics over how to kill the spider swarm. Khor and Rhuarc are in it, and are bitten and forced to make Fortitude saves.

Aliz: He just has some sort of weird vengeance against Khor.
Khor: What do you mean, weird? I succeed.
DM: Whatever the difficulty is.
Khor: I rolled a 13 and I have a +7 to Fortitude saves. This thing doesn’t have a save higher than 20.
Aliz: It does now! Thanks, now none of us can succeed, asshole!

The discussion diverges into the value of plate mail as absolute protection and its permeability to swarming rat bites. Banorm revs up his Burning Hands, even though Khor is in the line of fire.

Khor: Hopefully the DM will give me a bonus on my save because I can duck behind here…
DM: And Banorm can shout a warning.
Khor: He doesn’t, but he can.
Banorm: “Meh.”

Banorm casts! The web around Rhuarc catch fire, dealing 2 points of damage to him. The swarm dies to the cast, and the large spider retreats into the cave. They swiftly dispatch the final spider outside and clamber up to the spider’s cave. They hack their way through the webs which block the cavern, to a larger room which holds the spider.

Rhuarc: There’s the Attercop.
DM: There are also some cocoons of other things with webs wound around them.
Rhuarc: Are there dwarven beards sticking out?
Willow: Are they moving?
DM: None of them are moving.
Willow: Oh damn.
Banorm: If we cut them open and there’s a bunch of spiders in there, I quit this game.

The spider indicates the cocoon with Tourin in it, and they free him. He is green-faced, paralyzed, and has a dagger hilt protruding from his back.

Khor: Dude, your sister totally turned on him but ran off to be with her lover.
Aliz: Eh, sounds like something she would do.
Banorm: Did he really scream like a girl?
Khor: So it would seem.
Aliz: Come on, let’s get him out of here, we still gotta find my sister.
DM: “I held up my end of the bargain. Now leave!”
Khor: “Wait a minute, we never made a bargain with you. We said free the prisoners, and you did! Now it’s time to see you banished, spirit!”
DM: “Aaaargh!”
Khor: Bashing time!

Initiative occurs. Khor rolls terribly and declares himself too busy proclaiming to act, apparently. Rhuarc heckles Khor about alignment. Willow Rapid Shots it but blows the roll.

DM: Khor, just as you were gesticulating and saying ‘Banished!’, you raise your arm up. Unfortunately that was the same moment that Willow was shooting from behind you. You’re struck in the arm for four points of damage by an arrow.
Khor: This IS a vengeance against me!
Aliz: I swear to god, this whole campaign, the DM’s just out to get Khor, every turn.
Khor: Isn’t that how every campaign goes, you guys are just out to get me? Rhuarc openly declared war on me…
Rhuarc: And look at all the good it’s done. You cower in a corner while everyone else takes damage for you.
DM: Simple explanation: we’re pretty sure you can take it, or weasel a way out of dying.
Rhuarc: He IS Starscream…

For some reason, everyone starts cracking up over some nonverbal interaction, which is more a testament to their tiredness than any humor in the situation. The group lurches forward through the webs on the ground, less than valiantly.

Willow: I lurch forward too.
DM: Are you out of arrows?
Willow: My bowstring snapped, remember?
DM: No, it didn’t snap. You hit Khor in the arm. I get to choose what happens.
Willow: Oh, okay, I rolled a 19 to shoot the fucker.
DM: You shoot the fucker.
Khor: Hey, hey, hey. Specify the spider. SPECIFY THE SPIDER.

Willow’s shot slays the spider – or at least makes it burst. With a Spot check, they notice a tiny spirit-spider of light trying to escape and promptly catch it with the spirit-cage they took off the evil necromancer. They cut open the other cocoons, finding mostly animal bodies, but one barbarian corpse with an iron greatsword! And a large garnet, woo. With such riches at hand, they gleefully declare the game over!