Drengar: Ah, “Racism: the Game”.
Davlimar: Yeah, they’re adding it to Price is Right next year. Instead of Match Game or Race Game, or Dice Game, it’s Racism Game.

Yeah, uh, specifics redacted. Hilarious, but redacted. The DM quickly brings Davlimar up to speed on the setting--

Davlimar: So it’s just like Minecraft.

--while Cain is driven mad by a pair of peppermint patties that had half of one patty in the package of the other. Davlimar continues to compare the campaign to video games.

DM: One of them fell on top of their circle and that started to break the magical spells.
Kurain: It was great, we had fifteen minutes of him trying to get this dwarf to fall on the circle and us knowing it’s coming and him trying to justify how we couldn’t stop it.
DM: Pretty much.

The DM explains that no one prays to the gods any more and they are barely remembered, since clearly they have abandoned this world.

Davlimar: Where does Hitler come in to all this?
Cain: Oh it’s coming. He’s coming.
DM: Humans are basically viewed as the anal wart on the world…

Luckily the explanation of the world was covered in the last game report, because someone spends about ten minutes wrangling a plastic bag in direct proximity to the microphone. Nevertheless there’s nothing new here until the recap of the last session begins.

DM: The King, Draegnir—
Cain: Hitler.
Lydanna: Hitler.
DM: AKA Hitler…
Dregnar: Hitler.
Davlimar: Wait, none of you guys are human, and you went into the human city–
Kurain: I’m human.
Cain: We’re human.
Kurain: And boy do we regret it.
Cain: Yeah, I regret it every day.

Cain and Kurain again predict that their message is a letter bomb. The DM summarizes the proclamations and the elite, very Southern soldiers. Kurain darkly predicts that the King’s belief that the other races are causing the demon plague will prove to be correct.

Kurain: His war turned out to be the accurate thing, and then the world turns out that it was Earth all along.
DM: Are you talking about Battlestar Galactica?!
Kurain: No, he just killed off all the other races and then the world was able to grow and develop, and it turned out it was Earth.

The DM is hellbent on discussing Battlestar Galactica now, but Davlimar refuses to let him, claiming he wants to watch it someday and wishes no spoilers. Cain is pissed.

Cain: I’m not gonna watch it, because who’s a Cylon? EEEEEVERY BODY’s a Cylon.
Kurain: (singing) “Dr. Zaius Dr. Zaius… Dr. Zaius Dr. Zaius…”

Kurain points out that the only reason the non-human PCs didn’t kill the human PCs for the crime of being human is that they know they’re all PCs. Since Davlimar is a dwarf rogue, he suggests he was the lone survivor of the caravan.

DM: I have a different entrance for you in mind.
Kurain: “Aaaaaaaaah!” (miming a body falling from a great height to the ground in front of them all)
DM: It’s nothing surprising. So basically – there you go, morning. The sun comes out after a long night of battle and hardship. You watch as the sun rises, the fog – the demons kind of melt into the ground.

The DM describes the melting a bit more, while the players briefly wonder what the whole demon thing is really about. No answers are forthcoming, obviously. Davlimar introduces himself OOCly.

DM: What’s your character’s name?
Davlimar: Davlimar. D-A-V… Lamar.
DM: I’ll changing that M for a V and I’ll call you Mr. Burton. Listen, Geordi… So the sun rises and you guys are breaking down camp. Putting things away…
Davlimar: Stink of corpses – hey, you guys can raid the caravan!
DM: Bodies strewn all over the place, you see guts hanging off of trees, it’s carnage and disgusting mayhem. Nobody’s really trying to look at it—
Cain: I’m looking at all of it. Wait, I’m not on my lizardman…
DM: But as you’re breaking down, you hear a rustling coming off to the side.
Davlimar: Wait, I rolled a 15 to Move Silently and not rustle.
Cain: And he’s like, “Well I guess you don’t hear the rustling.”
DM: No, they heard the rustling because I already said it.
Cain: You can take it back…
DM: They hear rustling.
Kurain: A rustler!
DM: You step out. A lone dwarf steps out.

The group, waiting for more, fails to react.

DM: And nobody cares.
Cain: We didn’t get a Listen check so obviously we’re talking amongst each other, smelling the dirty bodies…
Davlimar: Well if they don’t see me, which one of them looks like they’re carrying the most coin?

Kurain blows a Spot check yet again. Davlimar advances behind a spring of shrubbery, unseen by all but Cain. Massive nonreaction occurs all around until Cain finally thinks to fire a warning shot.

DM: Roll for your attack. Make sure you miss.
Cain: Make sure I miss?
Drengar: Roll a 1, you probably hit him.
Davlimar: Don’t say that -- (Cain rolls) GOD DAMN IT!
Cain: …it’s a 7.
Davlimar: It’s a 1!
Cain: It’s a 7.
Davlimar: IT’S A – oh wait, you’re right.
Kurain: Roll a new character.
DM: What’s your AC?
Cain: I’m not aiming at him, I’m aiming at the floor!
Davlimar: He rolled that to not hit me.
Kurain: He rolled poorly, so obviously…
DM: He rolled poorly, so obviously… The arrow flies up and hits you in the cheek.
Kurain: The lesson here is always roll to miss when the AC is high. “Oh, its AC is 55, I fire a warning shot at him. Oh, I rolled a natural 1? I crit it to death.”
Davlimar: Black arrow!
Kurain: White arrow!
Davlimar: Bowstring!
DM: So as Cain slowly raises up his weapon… pulls… Bowstring!

Arna’s player shows up, at last. To round out the list of ethnicities present at the table, Davlimar is informed he must now be Indian.

Davlimar: Native, or…
Kurain: Both.

Kurain again fails to hear or see the goings-on, even as Davlimar greets them loudly. The angry NPC threatens to kill Davlimar on sight out of suspicion,

DM: “How did you survive?!”
Davlimar: “I don’t know. I didnae exist until about three minutes ago.”
DM: Sorry… you were in a cave and drew runes on the ground.

Drengar greets his kinsman with dwarven reserve, and welcomes him into their troupe, provided he can stop making Gimli jokes. Davlimar starts getting names from the group.

Davlimar: “What about the one with the hat? Who can’t hear or see anything?”
Kurain: I’m getting better, I rolled a 9 that time.
Drengar: “He’s a bit of a quiet one.”
Davlimar: “I reckon I know a thing or two about being quiet.”
Lydanna: “That’s Kurain.”
Davlimar: “KUrain? Sounds like Cruroar.”
DM: He’s the speaker for the group.
Davlimar: “Oh great, apparently I’m having a conversation with three wee dots.”
Kurain: “Cruroar” is the “Joe” of D&D…
Davlimar: “And… Arn… Arna.”
Arna: There HAS to be better roleplaying than walking over and looking at each other’s character sheets. If someone would be so kind as to tell me what’s going on…

The non-humans bemoan their fortune, but they all welcome Davlimar into their group. They attempt to loot the corpses, but the DM hasn’t provided loot or experience yet, so this doesn’t go so well. Arna insists they erect a pyre for the fallen dwarves.

Davlimar: “Y’all erect the pyre, I’ll begin gatherin’ th’ bodies.”
Drengar: “I’ll give ya a hand.”
Davlimar: “Ah… all right, why don’t you check this fellow here… I’ll check… this one’s dressed in silk.”
Arna: “Would one of you gentlemen with the big axes lend a hand to chop down this tree?”
Drengar: I have no axe on me.
Davlimar: “Ah, me hammer’s not much good for chopping wood.”
Arna: “I’m sorry, I was stereotyping.”
Davlimar: And I’m concealing the fact that I DO have an axe.
Cain: He’s also concealing the fact that his name is SoulAXE.
Davlimar: “It’s in me beard!”

They begin looting, finding two sets of blood royal clothing, three unbroken short spear, one sword – Wait, who’s recording loot?! They quickly roll for it.

Drengar: FUCK!
Kurain: Natural 1, huh, Drengar.
Cain: Oh wow, what a waste of a 19.
Kurain: Wait, Lydanna still has to roll. Arna still has to roll!
Arna: God damn it, you remembered about me.
Cain: Lydanna rolls a 20, don’t worry about her.
DM: This is Lydanna: “Oh wait, I critted my last six hits, that’s anotherrrrrrr…. 740 points of damage.”
Kurain: This is our teamup strategy, my overt damage makes hers look downright normal.

--two small round wooden shields, and everything else is destroyed. There’s some money. Kurain casts detect magic but comes up with nothing. Their NPC asks if anyone wants to say some words.

Arna: “I suppose I should say something. May their souls return from whence they came and their spirits not linger in this world of pain and horrible suffering. May their sins be forgiven and washed from this lands just as the rain will wash their remains under water.”
Kurain: I use my Knowledge(religion) to make a sign of benediction according to the ancient gods.
Davlimar: “Look at that one! That one’s saying something!”
Kurain: I was DOING something, not SAYING something. You know, like the fake ancient religion equivalent of crossing myself.
DM: Everybody kind of stares at you, confused, because quite frankly no one remembers religion, or gods.
Kurain: That’s why I put ranks into it!
Drengar: I have Knowledge(religion).
DM: But the symbol you made, surprisingly, caused a spark. Caused some of the embers burning around the camp… wind, weirdly, blew, sent those embers into the fire.
Davlimar: “Well how’d you do that? Oh wait, you don’t speak.”
Kurain: What’s the origin of that gesture? A specific god? I roll a 21 to figure out what the hell I just did.
Drengar: I see him do that and I just rolled too, like, “What the hell did he just do?” 22.
Davlimar: “I’m a firestarter.”
DM: You do the symbol again. You don’t feel any different, you don’t – you just feel – you just have a sense of… Satisfaction. Like you did a good deed.
Drengar: Like you took a good crap.

They load up the mule, and they reach a fork in the road with an hour left to sunset. One path leads to a town, the other path leads to a fort; either will get them to their destination in about the same time. The DM demands a ration count, but no one is really hurting for it. The DM merrily recaps the entire description as Kurain fumes.

Kurain: WE KNOW! STOP RECAPPING IT! Which one is closer to our destination, or is there a meaningful difference?
DM: Fort Nightsbane says half a day, Village Stonehaven, 2 days.

Silence.

Kurain: And now for my actual question…
Drengar: Yeah, I don’t think that actually answered it.
DM: That’s the distance.
Drengar: That’s not the distance to our destination.
DM: Oh, your destination. (producing the map he’d drawn) Ignore the roads…

The characters laugh at this, but the map does demonstrate that either is suitable. Kurain moves forward to stand by the road that leads to the village, refusing to speak once again.

Drengar: “I agree with the quiet one.”
Davlimar: “How d’ya agree when ya don’t know what he’s sayin’?”
Drengar: “He obviously wants to go down that path.”
Davlimar: “Maybe he just likes standing over there.”
Drengar: (sighing) “Kurain, d’ya like just standin’ there or d’ya want to go that way?”
Kurain: (pointing over his shoulder)
Davlimar: “He wants to go back the way he came, see! Ya canna just read someone standin’ there!”
Kurain: Acid splash!
Davlimar: Umm… “So the two of you want to go to the village? Any reason?”
Kurain: “Fewer people.”
Davlimar: “What if the fort is deserted? There’ll be even fewer people.”
Kurain: “No way to know.”
Davlimar: “Six whole words. I won’t ask ya any more today, I promise.” I just wondered how long it would take for my character to get you to say something.

Davlimar rolls to learn that both are human-controlled, meaning other races are in trouble no matter what. Cain suggests they treat the other races as their servants. The DM notes that fifteen minutes have passed and the sun continues to set. Kurain gets really distracted trying to figure out why Manyshot and Shot on the Run can’t be combined (it turns out the answer is incredibly arcane: Manyshot requires a standard action, while Shot on the Run requires an attack action, which is a subset of the standard action). They continue down the road; the sun sets as they travel, and fog rises.

Arna: Wait a minute, when the sun is down, don’t we have to build a circle?
DM: You might want to roll for initiative, because you guys didn’t set up camp.
Drengar: What are you talking about?
Arna: Holy shit, yeah.
Cain: We didn’t know we were setting up camp.
Drengar: But why wouldn’t we just automatically set up camp?
DM: Because nobody said ‘set up for camp.”
Drengar: Oh for fuck’s sake.

I quote from my previous report:

The DM describes them stopping as sunset approaches and setting up camp, WHICH I SPECIFICALLY NOTE HE DOES WITHOUT THEM NEEDING TO DESCRIBE IT, for reasons which will become clear later.

DM: What? You guys kept saying you’re heading down the road!
Drengar: We would go as far as we could and then set up camp! Is the crossroads a suitable place to set up camp?
DM: You can set up camp anywhere you want!
Drengar: Why would I set up camp where there’s nothing but a dense copse of trees?
DM: The description of what I kept saying was, “It’s getting sunset, sun’s going down”, but nobody said anything about setting up camp.
Davlimar: “I blame it on the one that doesn’t talk.”
Cain: Okay, just kill us off.
Drengar: Doesn’t matter any more.
DM: Suddenly everyone’s pissed off about this?
All: YES!

Arna defends the DM, at least, but the rest of the players remain irritated as they roll for initiative. Kurain finally looks up from his rules arcanery to deliver the rules quirks noted above; god knows how this would have gone if he’d been paying attention. The fog forms up around them; Lydanna spins and fires at the first coalescing creature she spots, slaying it as it forms.

DM: Just assume that these creatures are forming around you guys.
Drengar: How long will it take to set up a rune?
Davlimar: One more round than you are capable of lasting.

The circle can be swiftly and easily deployed just by tossing it out (which really leads one to wonder how the dwarves screwed it up). A monster attacks Cain – ineffectively, because it’s still made of fog. He shoots it, and chain-kills six others in mid-formation.

Davlimar: “Seven with one blow!”
Kurain: “I swung and missed! I missed and swung!”
DM: Kurain?
Kurain: Looks like I’ll be moving into position, too.
Drengar: Who’s actually getting the runes?
Kurain: Whoever’s last in the initiative order, obviously.

Kurain drops a demon, but they are fully formed now, and start dealing damage in return.

Cain: (apropos of nothing) I do find it funny that Wheeler was going after her, because he was fire and she was wind.
Kurain: …why is that funny, I don’t understand.
Cain: Wind enhances fire.
Kurain: Yeah?
Cain: He was chasing her.
Kurain: Yeah?

Drengar blows away a demon with a blast. They joke about Arna just stepping up to join the fight…

DM: Domilar, your NPC that was with you, who has been very quiet…
Kurain: Yeah, thank God he didn’t remind us about sunset. I guess he’s suicidal.
Drengar: Look at his wrists! Look at his wrists!
Davlimar: All the cut marks!
DM: He is unattacked, because he is an NPC.

Davlimar lops a demon in two like the mighty Soulaxe he is. Arna takes note, and her dog leaps forward, but bites only the dirt.

Arna: She will make a dash for the runes, warding off any demons with her iron mace!
Kurain: This isn’t your campaign, iron isn’t amazing.
Cain: Shh. Leave him alone.
DM: So Arna sprints, does a forward roll, a backwards flip, a somersault—
Kurain: Do you have any ranks in Tumble at all?
Arna: No, actually, I don’t know what the hell just happened to me. Demon magic!
DM: Arna trips, falls on the ground, and just rolls.
Arna: That sounds more like her.

Arna hurls out the runes, and the DM calls for Reflex saving throws for all! Everyone rolls well but Davlimar – the rogue. He gets knocked over by it. The circle erupts upwards, leaving them to do mop-up up inside. Cain shoots one.

DM: You laugh at its corpse, yelling obscenities in your human vile tongue.
Cain: What’re you talking about?! I’m neutral neutral, I don’t have get strong feelings about anything!

Kurain lashes at a demon but misses, and so to taunt it makes the Morpheus “bring it” gesture at it. This proves to be a mistake, as the demon promptly deals 3 damage to him. Drengar blasts it off his arm, which the DM describes like an epic victory over a mighty campaign-ending evil. Drengar bravely attacks a tree branch with such vigor that a demon flies clean over him when he nearly falls over. They mop up the last lingering demons.

Kurain: I begin setting up my tent.
DM: You set up my tent.
Lydanna: I start building a fire.
Arna: Agni sweeps the demon guts into a far corner of a circle.
DM: You clean the mess.
Drengar: Who!?
Arna: Arna.
Drengar: Oh.
DM: So the battle is over. Tents are erected. Both in pants and out.
Drengar: “Battle makes me hard.”
Kurain: Who the hell am I around by?
DM: Demon guts are swept and brushed out of the ring of power.
Kurain: I don’t like that being the answer to my question.

The DM bemoans that he was forbidden from putting ‘punch and pie’ on his wedding invitations.

Arna: I’ll take Drengar’s watch. (stealing Drengar’s watch) Yoink!
Davlimar: “I’ll steal everyone’s watch.”
Kurain: I’m sorry, mine’s a water clock.
Arna: Drengar, do something about your water clock, I can’t slep. Sleep.
DM: You guys take turns on watch. Whoever’s on watch obviously does not need to worry about… Listen checks or anything, because all you can see are demons patrolling the outside of your magic barrier.
Kurain: Suddenly a dwarf lunges out of the darkness and falls across our runes!
Davlimar: I gotta hand it to you, in this campaign setting dire weasels are a thing of the past. Dire weasels and great elk and all that other horseshit everyone else throws – hey, all that stuff’s getting eaten by demons.

Arna distributes healing. The night passes uneventfully. They let the DM know in no uncertain terms that they are MAKING CAMP every night. The DM attempts to claim they undergo the same routine every night… which makes the players bemoan the fact that they’ll keep forgetting the circle.

Davlimar: Is this like Groundhog Day? We keep reliving the same night?
Kurain: That would be the worst campaign ever.
Cain: Especially if our experience reset every day.
Kurain: How long would it be till you noticed that every time you kicked open a door, it’s the same 20x20 room full of kobolds, with another door at the end. You defeat all the kobolds, oh look, a 20x20 room full of kobolds. How long would it take?

They reach the town! It is sparsely populated, with a cemetery to one side and one two-story house that must be the inn. Kurain observes the protective runes, and manages to roll a natural 20 on his Knowledge(religion). He discovers that the runes are on pylons and amazingly crafted, so much so that they don’t even need to be connected. Everybody starts rolling every single damn Knowledge they have, I’m not even sure why.

Kurain: Knowledge(nature), I don’t even know why! These aren’t natural! I’ve realized that with my immense knowledge!

The players paint a picture of the pylons in fact being the teeth of a monster just underground. As they examine these pylons, a mob begins forming, pitchforks and all, and a few men step forward to approach them.

Arna: “All right, who’s going to step forward for us?”
Lydanna: Oh god.
Drengar: “I would say probably one of the humans.”
Davlimar: I will simply step back.
Cain: (with a bitter look at Kurain) “I will step forward.”
Arna: Out of character, who has skill in Diplomacy?
Cain: Look, I’m the only human willing to speak.

The players darkly predict a Star Wars scenario, with Cain as Han, but the group reaches them without anyone being shot.

Cain: “Fear not, villagers, we only seek a day’s rest before moving on.”
DM: “Well we don’t really mind y’all messengers, we respect y’all’s job. We’s just not too sure about the others y’all got witchoo. We’s don’t really know much about –“
Davlimar: “Speaking Common.”
DM: “We don’t know much about dwarves and elves.”
Cain: Oh, they know about their races. I was hoping they’d be all, “We don’t know about them little people. Or them tall skinny folk with the pointy ears. Or them even smaller people. Or them smaller people. Or them green-skinned people.”
Kurain: Let’s convince them that dwarves have magic powers that will slay them if they trouble us.
Cain: I was hoping to convince them, “Aww no, man, these are my… very short brothers. Don’t talk about their height.” I was gonna do that but my Bluff check is bad…
Davlimar: “I kinda feel sad that we speak Common better than they do.”
Drengar: “Aye, they’re a simple folk.”
Davlimar: “Well there’s simple and then there’s… THAT.”
DM: “You know we’s standin’ right here listenin’ to ya.”
Davlimar: “Ye canna understan’ dwarf.”
DM: Are you speaking in dwarvish?
Davlimar: Yeah, ‘cuz we be dwarves!
Cain: “Don’t worry about our compatriots, they are our… how you say, help? Farmhands, I believe you have those?”

Everyone gets sidetracked on what languages they speak and where they learned it. The DM gives some explanations as to where they might have learned the languages of other races.

DM: The gnomes have a little outpost that they do all their trading through. Otherwise, nobody’s ever seen a gnomish village, nobody’s ever seen a gnomish city, gnomish fort, nothing.
Kurain: That raises a LOT of questions about how I learned to speak their language.
DM: You speak Gnomish?
Kurain: Apparently!
DM: You did a lot of work at their trading post.
Kurain: A lot of level 1 work at that trading post. Level 1 work with no experience.

Cain continues to try to convince the villagers to let the others in, and the villagers continue to be aggressively redneck. Cain is forced to play up his accent and his intolerance to fit in.

Cain: (head in hands) My dream of being a white racist has arrived.

Cain relays the news from the capital of the other races being evicted and war being declared. This quickly goes to a bad place.

DM: “You sayin’ that he finally kicked them lazy no good do-nothing short to the ground that is lick my boots cleans—“
Drengar: Do I need a Fortitude save not to go angry?

Cain manages to negotiate them into the city, and the local representatives cheerfully recommend the local inn, the Bed O’ Nails. Cain drives his accent to absolutely ludicrous levels.

Drengar: …do you have any ranks in Perform?
Kurain: So, okay, I just have to ask, right now, out of character… NOW do you understand why I don’t speak much?
Drengar: …yes.
Davlimar: We’re willingly walking into Hazzard County…

The DM finally demands a check from Cain to see if he can pull this off. He rolls a modified 20. It just… look, when you have to apologize to racist Southern rednecks for their portrayal, you know it’s gone to a bad place, okay? Woman and children line up to gawk at the weirdos.

Drengar: In Dwarvish, I look at one of the mothers and say, “I’m going to eat your children tonight.”
Cain: “Oh he was just commenting how cute they are. He’s being NICE.” I’m just pulling out my sword. “I’m just killing myself, I can’t do this any more…”
Kurain: Boy did I pick the wrong campaign to be Lawful Good in.
Cain: “Oh greetings there normal innkeeper…”

As is becoming a pattern, the innkeeper is only concerned with the color of their money, not the race section of their character sheet. Cain sincerely thanks God for being able to drop the act.

DM: “Well I’s gots one rule and one rule only: If you’re gonna fight, take it outside.”
Kurain: I buy Cain a drink like he’s never had before, because man he’s earned it.
Davlimar: There better be a Daisy Duke light at the end of this tunnel.
Kurain: She’s not a dwarf, dude.
DM: You look her over, and –
Kurain: Wait, who are we looking over?
DM: The barkeep.
Kurain: Oh. No, we were hoping for someone hot.
DM: No. No. NO. She is NOT hot.
Kurain: We knew that, we KNEW that.
DM: She is missing a tooth, she has a mole with about three hairs sticking off of it, she weighs about 350 lbs and is wearing a shirt where her boobs are literally spilling out, you can see the top of her nipples, but of course her boobs are disgusting, because they’re wrinkled. They look like two curdled milk bags.
Drengar: “All of a sudden dinner doesn’t sound very good.”

The group hurriedly looks for any excuse to abandon ship, or possibly game. The innkeeper does tell them that a master crafter had put the rune pylons up hundreds of years ago.

DM: “He set up them pylons, and they’ve been standing there ever since. No demon ever done broke in this way before.”
Cain: Foreshadowing!
Lydanna: Demons are gonna break through!
Davlimar: We’re gonna be blamed.
Kurain: It turns out if two humans, two dwarves, and two half-elves cross the perimeter, it goes down. It was a backdoor he built into the system a long time ago, and he thought it would NEVER happen, but no…

The players propose setting up a tower defense course that snipes demons as they walk through a rune course. Arna, being a shaman, seeks to investigate the spirits of the town by entering into a trance state. To her surprise, she sees four apparitions in the cemetery, apparently repelling the demons just by their presence.

DM: The rest of the night basically goes very un….inhibited, nothing really happens for the rest of the night, but everybody—
Kurain: But everybody roll a something, I know. I dunno what I’m rolling, but it wasn’t good…
DM: Everybody wakes up to the smell of breakfast.
Kurain: I patiently wait in my room until I’m certain one of my other companions is downstairs first. I just wanna be sure that someone goes downstairs first just in case she’s… you know, breast.
Cain: They run downstairs, ready to see breakfast. “Hi boys.” Drop-dead nude. Instantly dead. Fortitude save.
Kurain: That’s why I’m making sure someone goes down first.
Drengar: So we’re all pretty much staying in our rooms the rest of the day.

Finally everybody get downstairs, and are not blinded. The innkeeper volunteers to make them some rations; they darkly predict the toughest hardtack in the world. They get the HELL out.

Kurain: If I was Chaotic Good I would’ve cast Touch of Fatigue on her a looong time ago.
DM: So you head out of inn—
Cain: Immediately towards the exit towards town.
Kurain: Trampling the pylons on the way.
Drengar: Kicking them over.
Kurain: One for the road.. (miming stealing a pylon)

The DM calls for Arna to make a check, and the group debates which Posse Formation Table the DM is rolling on. Noticing the apparition at the graveyard, Arna heads that way, with the rest of the group in tow. She promptly runs into the gravekeeper. Cain refuses to come anywhere near this, in the hope of making someone else talk. The gravekeeper tells the tale of the McGraven family, who once lived here and were the first ones to be torn to pieces when the demons emerged. He warns them that the graveyard is bad mojo.

Arna: “Really, why bad mojo? It sounds like they were fine upstanding people.”
DM: “No.”

That gets a chuckle out of everyone, though Cain bemoans that they’ll be staying another day after all.

Arna: “I’ll just be having a quick look if you don’t mind!”
Cain: Quick look’ll turn into all day.
Arna: “Here, let me make a small contribution to the maintenance of your graveyard.”
Kurain: And she squats down.

Pie is distributed, and Arna and Drengar get distracted by wrist-wrestling, only to find out they play by VERY DIFFERENT RULES. Painfully different. Literally. Drengar got injured, is what I’m trying to say. Arna approaches the gravestones with everyone else is tow.

DM: So you look at the tombstones – the names, you guys can easily see the names. The way they’re written is, “Here lies,” and the first letter of the first name is overwhelming, the entire tombstone. From left to right, you see a giant P, the name is Peter McGraven, and that’s it. The second one says the same thing, says “Here lies,” a giant N, Norma McGraven”. The third is the same thing, a giant O, “Oscar McGraven.” The fourth one is a giant E, “Here lies Edwin McGraven”. They look a little too fresh and crooked, meaning like they’re not sitting – for tombstones they should have been there a couple hundred years, they almost look brand new, they’re not sitting evenly in their sockets. They’re a little crooked, a little off-center—
Kurain: And also they’re an anagram for NOPE.
Lydanna: Or PEON.

Kurain fiddles with one and discovers it wobbles. He adjusts it till it sits firmly, but it doesn’t do anything. Davlimar suggests that they rearrange them to spell OPEN; Kurain does this, and everyone gets a Reflex save.

Kurain: 10. We’re all falling into a pit, aren’t we.
Lydanna: 17.
Davlimar: 21.
Drengar: 18.
Kurain: … so long!
Davlimar: Well we want to go down, don’t we?
Kurain: I think we wanted to go down in a way that did not involve velocity.

Everyone dives out of the way, except for Kurain, who plummets into a sinkhole. He takes 4 points of damage, and is very glad it wasn’t 2d6. It is pitch black in the pit, but Kurain casts Dancing Lights.

DM: I need you to clean off a space.
Kurain: Ha ha, I’m dead.
Arna: Why did I assume these spirits were friendly?
Drengar: Well they WERE murdered horribly…
Cain: Every time, Arna! Always getting us into shit!

The DM briefly discusses the other option – that if they failed to work out the clue, a monster would have erupted from below to create the opening.

DM: When I create my storyline, I’m trying to think of anything you guys might do. I wouldn’t put it past Kurain to be like, “I’m going to smash this.”
Arna: In game, I‘m the nutty one. Especially Kurain, he’s really reasonable when he plays D&D, it’s really weird.

The characters toss a rope down and begin clambering down, checking the DC for climbing down a rope as they do. Arna rolls a natural 1.

Kurain: A knotted rope with a wall to brace against is 0.
Drengar: As we look at Arna’s body: “Oh maybe we should have knotted it first.”

Their NPC warmage wanders down, which is the first anyone’s mentioned him since the last fight with the demons. Arna takes 5 damage from slamming into the ground.

Kurain: If this thing was 20 feet deep, we’d be two people down…

They find themselves in a room with three doors – intricate stonework and fine carving. Kurain steps down a hall and into a hallway, and promptly ducks a dozen arrows as they fly out of trap.

Cain: The penitent man kneels before God.
Kurain: I pluck one of the arrows out, come back around, hold it up.
Cain: I look at the arrow, using my Knowledge of being a person who uses arrows. And my Knowledge(dungeoneering). 19.
DM: You study the arrow, and you realize it is poison-tipped, but the poison is so old it’s no longer effective. The arrow itself is made out of solid metal.
Drengar: You were in more danger of getting lockjaw from that arrow.
Kurain: “How would we know?”
Cain: “These are good arrows. Maybe cold iron?”
Kurain: Oh come on, I made a joke and nobody commented that I spoke?

Cain moves forward, searching for traps in the next alcove.

DM: You come up to that little alcove and something about the ground doesn’t seem right, so you kind of poke it a little with your foot, and you see a bunch of pungi sticks covered in shit facing up from you.
Cain: What are we, in Vietnam now?!
Kurain: This is a hundred year old shit, that’s very impressive.
Cain: Apparently it’s still USABLE.
Drengar: Still steaming.
Kurain: Spells have been laid upon it.
Arna: That’s when you look above you, and there’s a dinosaur or something shitting in there all this time.
Drengar: Oh! Oh! No, no, you look up, it’s the cryptkeeper’s outhouse above us.
Cain: It’s official, alcoves are useless.

But there’s surely a combat coming up, and the hour is late, so the players – quickly predict their doom in the next session as they look at the map!

Kurain: 80 monsters.
Davlimar: 80? It’s a five foot hallway.
Kurain: It’s bad DMing. You open the 10x10 room, a hundred goblins and a sun wyrm are in there.
Drengar: (chortling) Sun wyrm…

The game ends with a sudden eruption of homophobe chicken.