Last time, the players were trapped in the home of Borad the mage, mostly without weapons or armor and a little low on spells, trying desperately to figure out how to not go to jail, which they are mostly too pretty for.

Eilnys: We didn’t commit that crime, we were set up.
Cruroar: By our own DM. He was our friend!
DM: I was never your friend.
Cruroar: You son of a bitch.
DM: I was always a son of a bitch.
Cruroar: It’s a good thing I picked out every slice of pizza you ate before you ate it, and I shit on it.

Claptrap yells in the background, while Cruroar plans to put darkness on everything he can to cover their flight. The group remembers their scrolls, and briefly focus on the invisibility one.

Cruroar: I’m pretty sure he has a strong invisibility spells… the fat mage.
DM: He BRISTLES at your insult!
Tasha: (belches)
DM: He BRISTLES at your rudeness!
Tasha: That was a compliment to the chef’s cooking.
Brunt: All the NPCs in this campaign bristle. They should found a city and name it Bristleburg.
DM: YOU guys made it into a running joke. Sanward bristled once and all Normilan can do after that is shout, “He BRISTLES!”
Cruroar: His name is Sandwich.

They continue to assess their resources, doing a surprisingly comprehensive job of it for this group. Disguises, bluffs, masterwork thieves tools, and diplomancy are all discussed.

DM: You get 125 experience for last game, all of you, for your good deeds. And by good deeds I mean good playing, not that anything you actually did was good.
Normilan: Most of what you did was terrible.
DM: Roughing up old women…
Normilan: Who roughed up an old woman? That was actually an old woman?

The DM describes the changing of the shifts they’ve observed with enough thoroughness that they don’t think it’s an easy opportunity to smash through. Brunt continues to play his character as a rational, intelligent half-orc not prone to unnecessary violence or murder.

Brunt: I’m saying we can lob the alchemists’ fire into a building if it’s close enough. Once the fire catches they’re not going to be able to ignore it. And we escape in the confusion! It’s a classic strategy. Can’t fail against a ten-year-old.
Cruroar: It’s a good thing we’re going up against ten-year-old in a grown man’s body.
Brunt: Welp, that’s my idea.
Eilnys: That was my idea last week too, and the wizard was like, “No!”
Brunt: Either that or we just go out and give ourselves up like the DM wants us to. I mean – AHEM – Justice will be done!
Normilan: It would get us in with Krostun faster…
Tasha: We use the wizard… as a shield!

The discussion continues on reasonably awkward levels of pyromania, as the players desperately seek something to ignite.

Tasha: Grain is very flammable!
Cruroar: Boom!
Tasha: I’m just saying, we don’t blow up the mill, but maybe one of the storehouses.
DM: There are silos attached to the mill.
Tasha: There, see? We blow up one of those.
Normilan: We’re not trying to ruin the livelihood of the town.
Tasha: Well, you know what, dude? Livelihood of the town, they lost their credibility when they accused us of some bullshit crimes.
Cruroar: Yes, okay, but the REAL crime of setting the town on fire will be justified then, right?
DM: Yes, the real crime of setting the town on fire is not okay. The real crime of evading arrest, totally okay.
Brunt: Brunt doesn’t want to kill anybody, but I DO.

Eilnys proposes they rally Sir Krostun’s men to their side, while Cruroar abruptly signs onto the Burn Everything plan. The DM describes torches clearly moving around the town, leading them to believe the town itself is also under heavy patrol.

Cruroar: He’s trying to make us join those Merry Man, that son of a bitch.
DM: Stop reading interpretations into my actions, god damn it! I’m just dictating what the situation is!
Brunt: Wilhelm’s come to save us.
Eilnys: I doubt that.
Tasha: Hey, how many hit dice do the guards have?
Brunt: Less than four.
DM: What the – I’m sorry they’re not wearing that tunics with their hit dice on them!

Brunt spots one of Sir Krostun’s men amongst the changing guards, apparently complicit. This new level of complexity briefly silences the entire group.

Cruroar: DM… just because you replaced the boat with a building in the middle of nowhere doesn’t mean it’s not a boat!
Brunt: He’s not keeping us here. We could leave at any time.
Cruroar: Yeah, I coulda jumped off the boat at any time too! It was a choice! Like, “Fuck this shit, off the boat!” I’ll be in this fucking safety raft for the rest of this damn adventure. I’ve got Create Food. Fuck you!
Tasha: I got Create Food and Purify Water, fuck all y’all, I’m taking a nap.
Cruroar: Sitting in the fucking boat the whole time, every now and then the adventure goes off to see what Sargassas is up to. Chilling on his boat. That was an option!
Brunt: So Krostus’s guard are also working with the city guard, what does that mean?
Cruroar: That just means they managed to convince them that we are the enemy, and he has given us an opportunity, perhaps, or maybe he didn’t.
Normilan: I think he’s just basically telling us or hinting that trying to parlay with them would not be a good idea.
DM: I’m not hinting at anything, god damn it, I’m just telling you what happened. Stop reading into my actions!
Normilan: Then why bring it up?
DM: IT WAS GONNA HAPPEN ONE WAY OR THE OTHER! AAAAAGH! (clutching at his head)
Normilan: I’m just saying, it was mentioned we’d turn invisible, go to Krostun’s men, and all of a sudden bam, they’re here with the guard. Okay.
DM: It was time for the guard change! One of them was there! That’s all I’m telling you!
Brunt: It’s like his first night in Shawshank, he can’t take it any more. “AAAGH! I don’t belong here!”

Tasha ponders disguising herself as a servant, having apparently forgotten the wizard uses unseen servant spells.

Tasha: Unseen doesn’t mean he doesn’t have them!
DM: IT’S A SPELL YOU MORON! (whimpering)
Normilan: In this campaign, we break the DM.
Cruroar: Really early on!
DM: (low-grade, unstoppable, hysterical laughter) I can only imagine how red I’ve turned.

The group plans to break a back window and escape out the back room – which Borad approves of, since that would make him look less complicit and he can easily mend it. He beseeches them to claim his innocence in their plans if they are captured.

Cruroar: “My friend here would be happy to just hit you one good, and it’d look like we escaped you with brutal efficiency.”
DM: “Ah-uh-I-I’d rather it not actually come to striking me.”
Eilnys: “No no no, what you do is, we use her disguise kit to make it look like you got roughed up.”
Brunt: Oh, he’s gonna get makeup. And then we tell the guards he fell down the stairs!
Tasha: What roll is it to try to convince somebody to take a shot across the face?
Normilan: Just use your fucking disguise kit… I’m sure his AC is pretty bad. Dex modifier, nonexistent!

The group decides on their plan: cast Silence on one of their members, smash out a back window, scramble into the river, and swim for the mill with the intent of freeing Krostun. They reluctantly write off recovering their weapons and armor as impossible. Smashing out the window, they scramble out, down the cliff, and into the river! Swim checks all around!

Normilan: 5. I accidentally inhale as soon as I hit the water.
Tasha: It’s okay, no one can hear him drowning.

The transcriber discovers he’s been misspelling Normilan’s name the entire time, but doesn’t give a shit. The mage sinks beneath the surface, but recovers quickly. The clamber out of the river as close to the mill as they can get, discovering the mighty outside door is closed.

DM: Even heaving together you can’t make a difference.
Cruroar: Show ‘em how it’s done!
Brunt: Yeah, watch me roll like crap. Uh… 23.
DM: Seizing the bottom of it, the mighty half-orc puts his back into it—
Cruroar: And lifts the whole mill!
DM: Muscles trembling, standing out like iron cords, you haul it upwards with a mighty groan that no one hears.
Cruroar: He’s like, “Oh my god, that was so easy for him, he’s yawning!”
DM: You have lifted it over your head and stand there with your body locked and your joints absorbing its weight. There is no counterweight on this thing so this is taking all of your strength.
Tasha: I’m grabbing like a stick, or something I can use to prop the door up.
DM: …no.
Tasha: Is there nothing I can use to prop the door open?
DM: No. It’s HEAVY.

The DM demands they clean the battlemat so he can prepare for their encounter with guards, and the players immediately regret all they have done. They solemnly vow not to kill the guards… a relatively easy feat since they have one shortsword to their name, right? Talk occurs, and hopefully none of it was funny because the transcriber can’t hear a thing over salsa music. Initiative is called for! They hear a shout and spot four guards! One fires a bolt at Brunt for a mere 1 point of damage.

Brunt: Well, this obviously isn’t the mill marksman.
Cruroar: Am I killing people?
Normilan: You can knock them out, just make sure you bind them afterwards.
Tasha: Wait, are we not killing period or just because you all don’t have weapons?
Brunt: Well, it’s kind of a chicken and the egg thing. We couldn’t kill them even if we wanted to.
Cruroar: My energy blast don’t need weapons.
Tasha: And my sword is still on me!

Cruroar scoops up a rock and casts Darkness on it. This causes a guard to scream and run the hell out of the darkness. Eilnys grabs a random tool, while Brunt bull rushes the guard through the inky blankness, shoving him back… ineffectually.

DM: Two points of damage as he fails to crit you.
Brunt: What’s wrong with you tonight? Usually I’d be half down by now.
DM: I don’t know. The shortsword glances off your mighty abs. The other one moves forward to assist his colleague. He yells something at you about surrendering which I know you’re not going to listen to so I’m not even going to repeat it.
Cruroar: If only they had asked us to surrender!

Tasha gears up a Summon Monster 1; a crossbow bolt flies harmlessly through the fray. Cruroar hurls the darkness pebble at the crossbowman. Tasha takes three points of damage as a guard steps up to swat her. Eilnys clobbers a guard with the tool for five damage.

Cruroar: Dungeoncrash him!
DM: Make your opposed Strength!
Brunt: 19 again.
DM: You grab him and just slam him back into the wall, hard.
Brunt: It’s 2d6?
Cruroar: You gotta look it up. I don’t remember.
Brunt: I don’t need to look it up! I’ll just say 2d10.
Cruroar: You don’t wanna go too far…
Brunt: I’ll roll a 2 and a 3. Plus my sneak attack damage as an orc… I’m just making shit up.
DM: No, it is 4d6. Plus twice your Strength bonus.
Cruroar: IT’S DEAD! He’s dead!
Brunt: No he’s not. Watch, it’s gonna be a 1, two 2s, and a 4… (rolling) Oh, he’s gonna feel this in the morning. There IS a one there… 14 plus… yeah, 24 damage.
DM: You slam him backward into the solid stone—
Brunt: I didn’t mean toooo! I didn’t realize I was gonna hit him so hard.
DM: -- of the milling platform. You hear his head crack and his body falls shudderingly limp in your hand. You contemptuously toss him aside.
Brunt: I was thinking of picking up his weapon but now I’m not so sure I need it…
Cruroar: Your enemy now is open fields.
DM: The other guards shrieks in horror and charges blindly at you, but so shocked is he that his blow goes far wide.
Tasha: “THAT WAS MY LOVER!”

Tasha summons a celestial dire rat, then fires her crossbow for a magnificent crit--

DM: Wait a minute, how did you have your crossbow still? I thought you only had your shortsword.
Tasha: Oh crap.

Tasha crits the guard for four points of damage, while Normilan fires some spells into the fray. The guard flees like hell – Eilnys tries to trip him, fails, and promptly gets countertripped as he runs for the stairs in the corner. Brunt jockeys to slam into the guy into the mill stone, managing to push him 10 feet.

Brunt: Okay dice, be merciful, I don’t want to make TWO widows.
Cruroar: You’re doing +10 damage bare minimum. I guarantee these guys have 15 hit points.
Brunt: He might live! …okay, maybe not.
Cruroar: Same amount of damage as last time.
DM: You feel his strernum snap against the point of your shoulder and his ribcage dissolve to jelly as you slam him against the millstone. You’ve jellied another one.
Brunt: I feel terrible, though. I’m gonna have to do some sort of orc penance ceremony crap.
DM: The crossbow guy, in his nauseating, vomiting, screaming state of frenzy, discharges his crossbow blindly. It flies off into the distance, out through the open door—
Brunt: And he kills someone.
DM: You hear a sploosh outside.
Cruroar: I thought it would go out the window, you hear this guard… “Aaaah!”
DM: He collapses in a pile of his own vomit and just shudders in shock and trauma.
Cruroar: Come on guys, I know how to do a crime scene investigation. Picks up the arrow, shoots them both in the back of the head. Obviously he went crazy, shot two comrades in the back of the head.
DM: Despite splattered heads and ribcages.
Normilan: Must’ve been some powerful shots!
Brunt: See, if we didn’t have these pesky good alignments we could do this sort of thing. Brunt’ll have to submit himself for justice after this one. Although it’s their own fault for taking our weapons away, I probably wouldn’t have killed anyone.
Cruroar: It’s okay, we discovered your true power. Now you can play your character like Sinbad. Combat starts? Throw your weapon to the ground.

The group charges after the one guard that escaped downstairs; Tasha runs down first, only for the guard down there to take his held action!

Normilan: Cuts his own throat.
DM: As you step down, a brilliant glow of holy light sweeps over you. Through it you see the guardsman with a blind, frenzied look in his eyes, wielding the mightiest two-handed sword you have ever seen.
Eilnys: Mine!
DM: No. Runes glow on its blade. A brilliant glow surrounds him. It is clearly not his weapon. Where he got it from you can only speculate. But he sweeps it at you. It seems to cut the air like so much mellow cheese.
Brunt: No Divine Wrath in this campaign setting!
DM: You take 17 points of subdual damage.
Tasha: Oh, nice! I’m unconscious. I hit the ground!
Normilan: He’s pretty damn hostile but I can try a Charm Person.
DM: What’s your difficulty? (rolling) Never mind! Natural 1. You lay your spell upon him and sense immediately that it has gone into magnificent effect. He screams out, “Friend! Help me! Take down these intruders! They’ve killed so many!”
Brunt: So many?!
Normilan: “There will be no more death. Put it down.”
Brunt: Obey!

Normilan rolls some Diplomacy and lays some heavy RP on the guy. No one attacks, and the guy is desperately denying that they have been wrongly accused.

DM: “Wrongly accused? No! Sir Krostun is evil!” You hear a hearty laugh coming from the darkness behind him. “He stole, he robbed!”
Normilan: “Lies! All lies!”
DM: “Truly?”
Normilan: “Truly.”
DM: He sort of slumps against the sidewall of the stairs, the sword clatters from his hand. The light on the sword immediately goes out, plunging the room into darkness.
Eilnys: I’m gonna pick that sword up. “I believe this belongs to you, lad, eh?”
DM: You pick the sword up. It stings like fucking hell.
Brunt: It’s a evil sword?!
Eilnys: No, it’s a lawful good sword, it doesn’t like chaotic good.

Sir Krostun looks at them from behind the erected bars. Eilnys offers to smash through the bars, although he just indicates the keys hanging on the wall. Eilnys stubbornly insists on handing him the sword first.

DM: He takes it, and sort of stands there with his shoulder self-consciously. It glows with a brilliant light now, bringing you all warmth.
Brunt: Except for Tasha.
DM: No, she’s warm in her unconsciousness.
Brunt: Anyone wake her up?
Normilan: It’s gonna take a while…
DM: “So what’s with the jailbreak.”
Brunt: He doesn’t sound like a dwarf. Disbelieve that this creature is a dwarf!
Brunt: Seven!
DM: You believe this is exactly what it seems!
Brunt: Just a dwarf with a speech impediment.

The knight dons his armor – with help – and lays hands upon Tasha to waken her. He heads up the stairs, shaking his head over the fallen bodies though without judgment.

Tasha: “Sir Krostus, you shoulda seen it. This, this BOAR came flying out of nowhere—“
Eilnys: I’m gonna punch him in the ass.
Cruroar: How are you a cleric?!

Tasha cheerfully takes back her lies, as the party bursts out the front door. Sir Krostun advanced into town, rallying his men as he goes. The DM calls for Spot checks!

DM: Most of you – not Normilan – see a man burst out of the inn, and leap upon a horse waiting outside. It’s the man who almost certainly had you imprisoned in the first place, the baron’s man.
Tasha: Awww, if he took our shit, I’ll be SO angry.
Eilnys: Which way is he coming?
DM: He’s heading out of town. With Sir Krostun’s escape, he knows which way the wind is blowing.
Tasha: Can we scream out, “Stop that man!”
Eilnys: “STOP THAT MAN!”
Brunt: Stop that pigeon! Stop that pigeon!
Cruroar: This motherfucker here just took all our gold.
Brunt: No he didn’t.
Cruroar: Yes he did! He took all our gold!

Tasha seriously contemplates shooting his horse out from under him… or just shoot him directly. But Sir Krostun stops her, demanding information. The city guard is completely cowed at this point, while his own men go to seek out the bailiff.

DM: Are you going up to your rooms?
Brunt: Yyyeawwwwhhyyyy?
DM: Who’s going in first?
Cruroar: I’m jumping right into the door!
Eilnys: I’m going in that, fuck that shit!
Tasha: I’ll do it!
Cruroar: Face-first, I’m going in with my face.

The DM calls for saving throws and Spot checks from all around. Needless to say, nothing happens. They even have all of their stuff! The group makes jokes about how they expected orcs or dragons or something.

Brunt: The orcs ask you for directions, since map of the city is slanted to the wrong way. North appears to be slanted to the left.
DM: You find yourself on a boat. A mystery has occurred.
Brunt: The captain is a vampire monk.
DM: A hurricane is coming.
Brunt: Above the hurricane up in the wind, a 60 foot fly is circling.
DM: The Sword Mage appears.
Brunt: You mean the Blade Mage? Vile lightning is carried on the wind of the storm!
DM: Vile CHAIN lightning.
Brunt: And up in the crow’s nest is a cat with a whip, and a half-giant with spears.

They return down to the main level to find Sir Krostun has procured beer for them (three for Eilnys, she threatens to kiss him). They quickly retell the story of their adventure thus far, after attempting to point him to the game reports. Once again, the name of Normilan’s master commands sudden and alarming respect.

Normilan: “…I have got to talk to my master.”
Cruroar: What Normilan doesn’t realize is that Tyraen is a level 37 epic wizard/sorcerer, who could destroy the wizard with his pinkie. But he’s tasked his apprentice with doing it for him. Because he’s lazy.
DM: Destroy the world, Normilan. Get to work on that.

The group agrees to formally lay charges against Stern – except for Tasha, who didn’t witness the magic. Sir Krostun states that he’ll take his case to the baron personally; the party cynically notes it didn’t keep him out of prison the last time.

DM: “I went to prison voluntarily. I believed that the evidence would prove me innocent. It should have, but justice was ill-carried. And speaking of which…” At this moment, two of his men come into the door, practically carrying Savan Boroughs the bailiff in. “Bailiff Boroughs, do you have any explanation for yourself?” He looks at Krostun and then at the rest of you, the blood has drained complete from his face.
Brunt: “I’ll take that as a ‘no’.”
DM: “You don’t understand, I was just doing what Stern told me to! I had to, it would have been my position otherwise!”
Brunt: “People are dead.”
DM: (gaping at Brunt for a moment, then bursting into laughter.)
Brunt: “These people are dead, Boroughs!”
DM: “I’m sorry, I really am! Please, please have mercy!”

Sir Krostun asks the PCs what their feelings are, as wronged parties. Brunt bemoans his fate.

Brunt: No matter how I try to play against the stereotype of me at this table, you guys are going to railroad me into it.
Cruroar: Well, you DID just smash two guys to death!
Brunt: I didn’t realize it was 4d6!
Tasha: So would you have not done it if you had known?
Brunt: If I had known they were for-sure going to die, I wouldn’t have done it.
Cruroar: That’s why you did it the second time?
Brunt: I figured I rolled really WELL the first time…
Tasha: That’s why you did it twice. I like it.
DM: (hunched over in his chair, clutching his sides and howling in laughter) They only had ten hit points…
Brunt: If you’d been nice enough to tell us that at the outset, I’d have just thumped them on the head till they fell over like Andre the Giant.
Tasha: The bloodlust. As an orc, dude, the bloodlust.
Bront: They’re not Blizzard orcs, they don’t have a built in bloodlust.
Cruroar: (to the DM) I swear, when you get the hair right, you kinda look like Vigo, from Ghostbusters 2.

Sir Krostun strips the bailiff of his position even as he begs for mercy. They interrogate him about Stern. Krostun gives them their freedom, but they wish to travel with him to see this through, and he agrees. They dwell on the conditions of the dead guards for a moment, with Brunt attempting to do some penance for their murder… or possibly console the widow with who one of the guards had an ‘understanding’.

DM: When nights were cold, and beds were cold, it was a little less cold when they were, y’know, sharing body heat.
Brunt: Now what’s she going to do?
DM: (dramatic stinger)
Eilnys: (dramatic stinger with accompanying obscene hip-thrusts)
Cruroar: If you were listening closely, you would have heard… (Pokemon evolution music)
Brunt: Half-orcs have to happen somehow.
Cruroar: “Widow” evolved into “Lady of the Night”.
Brunt: There might be a quarter-orc somewhere in the future.
DM: (falling off his chair onto the floor)
Cruroar: The DM is down! (leaping to his feet) One! Two! Three! Four!
DM: Stop counting me out.
Brunt: I’m giving the DM an opportunity to torture me with a bastard quarter-orc child. Here this day was created the quarter-orc!
Cruroar: The players won the campaign by knocking the DM out. I believe that’s a victory condition in all games.
Brunt: Unfortunately, because of Dungeoncrasher, I’ll probably kill the poor woman. I push her five feet through the bed…
DM: (collapsing onto the floor)
Cruroar: KO! KO! We win! We won the campaign! High-fives all around!

The DM, after a minute to catch his breath, swears to never add little background details to the campaign again, because the floor is too uncomfortable. The next morning before departure, Eilnys and Normilan go back to visit Borad. He kindly allows Normilan to crib a spell or two, and promises Eilnys a favor, along with their friends.

Normilan: “Hey guys, free shit, get in here!”
Tasha: TAPESTRIIIIIIIIES!
DM: You take the tapestry off the wall, it poofs into gold.
Brunt: Aww, this candlestick was bind-on-pickup.
DM: Hey Brunt. (lifting his hands, with one Tostito in each, then crushing them) That’s what you did!
Brunt: Awwww. This campaign is just gonna be one big guilt trip for me.
Cruroar: (apropos of nothing) I haven’t pooped in a while, is that a symptom?
Tasha: (who alone remembers Cruroar is actually sick) It’s because you’re not eating much.
Cruroar: Oh, that’s right. I haven’t eaten a lot of food…

The small army forms up and heads out north, into the bandit forest. The players long for a confrontation between the bandits and the knight’s forces, which of course never comes. They also beg for an evil campaign. They reach the logging outpost.

Brunt: Hey, where’s Sanward?
DM: Roll a Spot check!
Cruroar: Good ol’ Sandwich.
Brunt: There’s gonna be arrows raining down on us any second.
DM: Looking around, you all realize that Sanward is not among the rangers back at the outpost.
Eilnys: “Sanward okay?”
DM: “He came back a little while ago, headed off north. Said he had business to take care of.” They plead with you not to kill!
Brunt: You’re going to turn every action against me now. I go to shake someone’s hand and their arm comes off. I want to clap Cruroar on the back – “Roll 4d6 plus twice your strength!” (rolling) Good God, Cruroar, you’re dead – it’s the same roll, too! Each time it’s different permutation and combinations but it always adds up to 25!
Cruroar: And I’m at -5 hit points.
DM: Better than the guards…

Days of travel pass, and the group reaches home sweet home, Spindlethrift, in a light rain.

DM: The townsfolk have not noticed you amongst the group, although there’s definitely a large turnout as they attempt to make a little money off of this, offering up local foods, local wares…
Tasha: Meat pies.
Cruroar: “Get your whores, here!”
Eilnys: “Ach, don’t buy from that one, he uses horse sauce in his meat pies.”
DM: Eilnys’s dissonant tones ring out over the group, and her father immediately bursts forward to clap her on the back in a greetings of welcome.
Eilnys: “Hi, Da. Let me introduce you to Sir Krostun!”
Cruroar: He immediately assumes that she’s planning on wedding him. “That’ll make a fine husband!”

Normilan returns to see his master. They speak a while; Tyraen reveals that he was once court mage to the King.

Cruroar: We’re going to run into dragons who know Tyraen’s name. It’s going to be stupid. “The apprentice of Tyraen?! I MUST EAT YOU!”

Tasha tries to find out if Stern came through; he did! Sanward didn’t, though. Normilan inquires as to why his master retired.

DM: “…I do not think I should tell you why.”
Brunt: Intimidate! Intimidate!
Tasha: He’s the character in WoW who’s so badass his hit points are question marks, and he’s sitting there – he’s not just standing there, he’s actually doing something, like singlehandedly holding up the bubble in the Nexus…

Brunt sings the prophecy to a Tolkien tune, and on that note, the game comes to an end.