Eilnys: You’re not a game, you’re a Chicken Boo.

On that weird note, the DM begins with Brunt, who last time had stayed behind to pack up camp while the rest of the group tried to keep up with the staff-possessed Normilan.

DM: The staff that Cruroar had waved and waved until it did bad things.
Brunt: Who?
DM: Cruroar?
Brunt: Cruroar Wreck-Gar Streetwise Ultra Biceps…

The word ‘taint’ is used in multiple contexts, and it’s unpleasant for all concerned. Brunt and the mule (Old Bill) argue over their speed and the necessity of movement in the first place a few times as they wearily progress.

DM: After a little while of travel, you hear—
Brunt: Without making a Listen chreck?!
DM: Yes. Would you LIKE to make one?
Brunt: No, keep going. Enjoy the joviality while it lasts. Instead of the passive-aggressive bitterness. Then comes the anger…
DM: You hear a flurry of galloping horses, heading your direction from the direction of your campsite.
Brunt: Fucking Nazgul!
DM: There’s no ominous Latin chanting…
Eilnys: Sephiroth!
Cruroar: The reason I was so crazy about not getting arrested in that last kingdom was because the one time we just let it happen, we almost rotted in jail. We were there for three hours. It was horrible.

Brunt continues on, but the horses continue to approach. Brunt steps slightly off the road to avoid getting trampled, but the horses continue to approach despite the darkness. The one guiding the horses is an elf, however; on spying Brunt, he stops the horses.

DM: One of them, a rather officious-looking man with a paunch and a broadsword, which are noticeable in that order, hefts the weapon at you. The broadsword, not the paunch.
Brunt: (laughing, then pointing at where a paunch would be) “See this? Surrendr!”
DM: “Ho, bandit! Cast down your weapons! We’ve caught you!”
Tasha: Heh heh, you’re a ho bandit.
Brunt: “And who are you to name me bandit?”
DM: “Why, we’re the king’s men, of course.”
Brunt: “The king’s men?”
DM: “Well… the baron’s men anyway, but the baron serves the king, and that gives us the authority of the king! We know you bandit hit an innocent group of travelers not far from here, and ho! There’s their very belongings on your mule!”
Brunt: (who can’t stop giggling at the way the NPC pronounced “myoo-well”) So wait. He’s big, he’s fat, and he talks like Don Karnage?!
DM: “We have just come from your scene of carnage! Corpses littering that campsite—“
Cruroar: We lined up the corpses before we left. We lined them up, I personally did it, so don’t be littering. That was a clean-ass campsite.
Brunt: “You’re woefully misinformed. Those are the bodies of the bandits you found at our campsite.”
DM: “And you expect us to believe that those innocent travelers could stand up to your mighty orcish thews?”
Brunt: Didn’t they fucking damn nearly kill all of us?! And he’s talking about orcish thews!
DM: “Your petty attempts at deceit will not hold water here!”
Brunt: “Yes, my petty attempts. I surely could have overpowered – how many? Four? Five? I overpowered a group of four, in the night. Wearing full armor. With them having a caster—“ What did the caster do to us, anyway?
DM: He cast a spell that everybody saved against, it was kinda pathetic.
Brunt: He didn’t cast it on me, that was the only reason… “Well, I suppose there’s no convincing you. What now then?”
DM: “I shall take you back to the baron to be TRIED and EXECUTED.”
Brunt: “You shall do no such thing.”
DM: “Ah, you intend to resist?”
Brunt: “I intend to keep walking.”
DM: “It seems then we shall be forced to take you into custody.”
Tasha: Man, he just wants us ARRESTED! No matter what we do, this DM!
DM: The paunchy man dismounts. Without incident.
Brunt: All I have to do is walk in front of him, he’ll never be able to swing at me around his own gut.
DM: The other two start to get off their horses behind him. The elf, however, is making no move one way or the other. But he holds up a hand, confident that he can take you, and brandishes his broadsword!
Tasha: Oh man, remember what happened the LAST time you got into single combat…
DM: (obviously joking) As you watch, RUNES glow upon the sword! “Have at you, sir! I’ll show you a taste of TRUE steel!”
Normilan: …is there a tree nearby?
DM: No.
Tasha: Take your maul and just crack his horse across the face.
Brunt: It’s the companions I’m worried about, not him.
Normilan: Oh, dungeoncrash him into his horse!
Tasha: We so need evil characters.
DM: You guys don’t want evil campaigns, you want “kill everyone” campaigns.

Brunt hastily chugs a potion of cure light wounds, then blows his initiative roll. He rolls his eyes in resignation.

Brunt: All right, how many points of damage do I take from his – well, I’ll let you do the flavor text, because I do miss that.
DM: Give me an attack roll.
Tasha: He’s sundering.
Brunt: He’s WHAT?
DM: Well-guessed.
Cruroar: He’s destroying the loot!
Normilan: He’s not gonna grapple. We know that’s not gonna happen.
Brunt: Natural 20. “Sunder me, will you, how about I just take your arm along with it!”
DM: He hews at the haft of your hammer, but you quickly slap aside the blow. It is now your turn, as he withdraws a step in shock that you would dare deflect him!
Brunt: Can you say that I did it without even moving my waist?
DM: It WAS a natural 20. A smidgen of doubt is crossing his face.
Brunt: “I give you one chance, to end this fooli--“ Where’d the d20 go?! All these dice are blue! I hit him…
DM: You don’t think he has a dexterity bonus to his armor class, do you? He attempts to dodge backwards from your blow, but you strike his belly, which despite his dodge remained an ample target.
Eilnys: Literally.
DM: He howls in pain as he clutches at his waist, then takes a strike at you with his sword – no longer seeking to simply disarm you, but instead drawing blood! Oh dear..
Brunt: Why are you rolling multiple dice for one attack?
DM: Well you see, there’s a magic thing called a 20, and it crits you.
Brunt: All right, shackle me up then, I can’t survive a crit.
DM: You take 8 points of damage as his blow strikes with not much strength but a great deal of luck, sliding between your ribs… and out the other side, aaaah!
Brunt: It’s all or nothing here… how much can I put into my base attack bonus at level 2?

Brunt hits, calculates his damage, and comes up with a mighty 19.

DM: You crush his skull with a mighty blow of your hammer.
Brunt: Awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww…
Tasha: From the guy who doesn’t want to kill, I love it.
DM: His body dangles there, unaware that its guiding force has passed, then slumps. The two that are with him let out a mighty scream of horror—
Brunt: Wilhelm scream! Well, if we weren’t at war with the baron, we are now, guys.
Normilan: Uh, YOU are at war with the baron.
Brunt: Oh! Oh!
DM: Three times on the way to the cross! The two of them scramble down from their horses, drawing their blades as they do so, what do you do? Incidentally, just hypothetically, if you want to make an Intimidate check you will get a hell of a circumstance bonus…

Brunt rolls an 18, causing the two to scramble back into the saddles and flee, shaking their fists at him. The elf shakes his sadly, but does not flee.

Brunt: “Must we continue?”
DM: “I’m well aware you killed no one.” (pausing) “Well, before.”
Brunt: Aaaah! That’s it, never trying to play a halfway decent character again! He was not out to be totally bloodthirsty and rape everything in sight! I’m not trying to be a baker, I’m not trying to be a pedophiliac—
Cruroar: I didn’t wanna be with children, what’re you talking about?!
Brunt: I’m not trying to be the Grand Poobah Pope of the Southern Kingdom, I just wanna be a quiet guy who wants to be left alone – no! I’m a MURDERER. A mass murderer. Okay, um, what was he saying?

The elf explains that the man Brunt just killed hadn’t listened to his explanations, and was simply being overzealous and vaguely racist. Brunt briefly explains his comings and goings, which mesh up with what the elf has deduced from his observations. In the hopes of preventing further trouble, the elf accompanies Brunt to the kobold campsite, where the other players are, along with the kobolds.

Tasha: The ranger’s like, “MY FAVORITE ENEMY!”
Brunt: “So, you have taken up with kobolds, and are now sitting around a fire.”
DM: “Greeting, sir. You must be the comrade of who your colleagues spoke!”
Brunt: “Pardon my shock—“
Normilan: They’re this guy’s favored enemy!
DM: They’re not his favored enemy, stop reading into things!

The group quickly catches up on each others’ doings. The DM reminds them the kobolds have agreed to cast divinations on their behalf, and they will have one decent answer and 10 yes or no answers to ask their god. The DM warns them he’ll be enforcing the time limit on the spell so they’d best prepare their questions quickly.

Tasha: “Is Marros getting along with the other guys at the ranger camp?”
DM: “UNCLEAR.” The gods are unable to determine if that is violence, or consensual.
Cruroar: What’s the god that we think the prophecy’s fun?
DM: The god of prophecy.
Cruroar: (dirty look)
DM: There’s no way to answer that without sounding like a smartass.
Cruroar: I know.

Cruroar prepares a list of questions, while the rest of the PCs kinda screw around. Time passes to the next morning, the concept of elven trance is deliberately misinterpreted, the kobolds are baffled that the PCs took watch…

Cruroar: I don’t know. Because what happens when you don’t take a watch is you get your stuff stolen. We still almost lost somebody and we HAD a watch.
DM: A watch that rolled very poorly on her Listen.
Cruroar: A watch distracted by the log we had placed. Did you take the big stump with us? I put it on the mule.
Brunt: Yes. I’m now Brunt Oakenshield.
DM: The second kobold, who is apparently the cleric, rises to face you all. “Are you ready for the spells?”
Cruroar: “Yes.”
DM: “Very well.” He begins to cast the spell. It takes a good ten minutes, during which power rises around him. An aura of colors rises around him!
Tasha: I’d like to roll Spellcraft. Just to see what he’s casting.
Cruroar: We know what he’s casting. He told us.
Tasha: I’d like to see anyways.
Brunt: You wasted a natural 20 on this!
DM: At the end of his ten-minute incantation, power bursts up to a mighty aura. Nine heads on long necks stretch out, each of them arching down to face you. Brilliant eyes of every color stare at you from them. “SPEAK YOUR QUESTIONS.”
Cruroar: “Is the staff the kobolds carry the staff from the prophecy we were told.”
DM: “NOT AT THIS TIME.”
Cruroar: “Do we have the blade that was said in the prophecy?”
DM: “NO.”
Cruroar: “Does the prophecy pertain to us?”
DM: “YES.”
Cruroar: “The priest in the kingdom we’re heading towards, the human lands, will he be able to aid us?”
DM: “YES.”
Cruroar: “The prophecy spoken by the old one, is it the prophecy from the god of prophecy?”
DM: “NO.”
Cruroar: “Are either of the prophecies given to us, the one written when she left and the one spoken – is the written one from the god of prophecy?”
DM: “YES.”
Cruroar: “Can the baron of the land be trusted?”
DM: “NO.”
Brunt: As well have asked how many licks it takes….
Cruroar: “Can the king of this land be trusted?”
DM: “YES.”
Cruroar: “Is this land, our land, the one the prophecy pertains to?”
DM: “YES.”
Cruroar: “Is Stern a part of this prophecy?”
DM: “NO.”

Obviously this gives the PCs much to think about, and they settle in for a brief run of conversation. Some of them are more helpful than others.

Brunt: “Do not trouble me with Radagast the Brown…”

…and they curse the necessity of their trip to the baron now. The group complains a while about being given the gold from the kobolds just so they could be accused of stealing it.

DM: Stop cursing the mysterious figure in the sky.

With a promise of a cryptic answer, the group has a hard time deciding which of the many, many lingering plot points they should attempt to resolve.

Cruroar: We should ask about our town. “Is our town okay?” “Everybody’s dead.”
DM: “If only they had had five more people.”

Their speculations quickly turn dire as the group predicts the Baron will attack Sir Krostun with an army. Tasha advocates going straight to the King, though Cruroar points out that the King isn’t really likely to believe them. Brunt cynically predicts the baron will imprison them. Eilnys hits on the idea of writing a letter and sending it with the kobolds.

Brunt: Tell the kobold priest that he’s ready to ask the god our question.
Cruroar: What is our question? I haven’t decided!
Brunt: I’ve decided I’m not arguing with you any more! Just ask him what you will.
Tasha: Why not ask him if we’d be better off going to the king or the baron?
Brunt: That’s a good-enough question…
DM: All right. The kobold priest begins his chant –
Brunt and Eilnys: Ooga chacka ooga ooga ooga chacka.
DM: Once again the aura of a nine-headed dragon forms around him – devouring the heretics! “ASK YOUR QUESTION.”
Cruroar: “Should we proceed to the baron as planned to save our town, or should we go straight to the king with hurry to ensure the staff reaches its destination?”
DM: “THE BARON WILL GIVE YOU ALL YOU WISH AND MORE.”

The PCs are less that satisfied with this answer.

Cruroar: What do we wish? Does my character have secret pain pleasures or something? Does my character secretly want to be in dungeons getting whipped by people? Is that his secret desire only the gods know about?
DM: And the gods never spoke to them again. Ever.
Giles: This campaign is scaring me, now.
Brunt: WAIT.
Tasha: Hey, how long does it take for them to summon that spell again?
DM: What spell?
Tasha: The one with the god that answered our questions.
DM: “We’re not going to keep annoying the Nine-Headed Dragon for your sake.”
Tasha: Are you telling me I have to go collect the Dragon Balls AGAIN and wait a year? “I got a Dragon Ball!” “I got a Dragon Ball!” “I got a Dragon Ball!”
Normilan: “I got a rock.”

Tasha attempts to pawn looted wizard robes off on Normilan, who doesn’t go for the offer.

Cruroar: We hand them a letter telling the events the occurred, but we don’t put the prophecy in the letter.
DM: You put your only copy of the prophecy in the letter.
Cruroar: Why did you misunderstand me purposely?
DM: Because you never do that to me… The kobold bows as he accepts the letter, and vows he shall convey it with all possible urgency.

Bidding them farewell, the kobolds set off on their trek for the capital once again. The elf, who no one has remembered up till now, simply mounts his horse.

Cruroar: I shoulda asked if we could trust him. “NO! KILL HIM NOW!”
Normilan: “Eat his entrails!”

The elf, Marindel, offers a shortcut to the barony, leading them off-road. Many LOTR jokes are made as they reach the baron’s magnificent estate.

Brunt: As we approach, I’m going to ask in as politely a manner as possible if he’s still intending on following his original orders.
DM: “My orders were to escort the man you found me with and track down the bandits. The bandits have been dealt with.”
Brunt: That’s a fair enough answer. I didn’t want to come right out and ask, “Are you going to betray us as soon as we get back?” That’s the best answer I’m likely to get.
Cruroar: He just went through two days of us sleeping without watches. He probably poisoned us with a nice little delayed poison, and in five days we’ll collapse.
Brunt: It doesn’t exist.
Cruroar: He’s the DM, he can MAKE it exist!
Brunt: He won’t. Because he hates poison.
DM: Whoa, whoa, I don’t HATE poison. I say poison is evil. If this guy is evil, surely he’ll have no problems using it.
Normilan:(noting the DM nearly flubbed a word) Pwoblems?
DM: “If this guy is eviw, suwewly he’ll have no pwobwems using it. Where is Dr. Wily?”
Normilan: “Allow me to introdufe myself.”
Brunt: The baron’s enemy shoulders are advancing on Spindlethrift!

Marindel gets them past the guards, but the PCs suspicions are honed to a razor’s edge.

Cruroar: Remember guys, if he at any time tells us to stand in any sort of circle of safety…
DM: <(Safety Circle voice) “Welcome to the Baron’s palace! I am the chamberlain!”
Cruroar: We keep our weapons with us all the time.
DM: “To see the baron you’re going to have to put away your weapons, good sirs!”
Cruroar: Then he can talk to us out here!
Tasha: I’ll put them away… in their scabbard.
Normilan: “Surely you wouldn’t deny an old man his staff…”
Brunt: “But where IS Baron Sixt?”
DM: “That’s a good question…”
Tasha: Pie, I gotta give you a fair warning. I learned the hard way. Don’t make bogus rolls and announce anything around this DM. If you roll the die and you don’t like what it says, don’t tell him what you were rolling for, because he will take advantage of it.
DM: Cheat! Cheat like a mofo.
Tasha: If you say, “Aww, my Reflex save sucks,” he’ll be like, “Aww man, that’s too bad, ‘cuz that flying dart came flying out of nowhere…”
Giles: Duly noted.
DM: He leads you into the dining room.
Eilnys: “I’m so hungry! Cookies?! COMMONER FOOD!”
DM A man in about his mid-twenties who must be the baron, to judge by his ermine clothes—
Brunt: As Darth Vader gets up. “I would be honored if you would join me.” Oh, the elf was Boba Fett the entire time!
Cruroar: No. No. That’s Stern. We’ve only seen him with a mask. That’s Stern.
DM: He tosses the turkey leg over his shoulder towards the dogs before the fireplace as you enter.. He’s at the head of the table. Seated on the corner is Stern.
Eilnys: Of course.
DM: Seated around the table are obvious other flunkies, functionaries, and other people who are part of the household. The Baron’s wife sits midway down the other side. A couple of children sit there, incredibly bored.
Brunt: “Another group of adventurers here to lick my father’s boots. Good job.”
Cruroar: If he says that at any time, we kill him.
DM: Stern, as you enter, cocks his elbow back on his chair and offers you a sinisterly smug smile. Nodding, as he knows exactly what’s coming to you, and you’re powerless now to prevent it.
Normilan: “Ah. Strange to see you without your tail between your legs.”
DM: “So then,” says the baron, “you’re the adventurers I’ve heard so much about.”
Cruroar: “I’m interested in hearing what Stern here has sown about, what lies he’s spun.”
Tasha: …remember dude, Stern is the baron’s man. The baron is not gonna believe us. “Baron, we’re just travelers, we’re not adventurers.”
DM: “That’s not what I hear. Jailbreaks, aiding and abetting criminals…”
Normilan: “Falsely accused. By Stern himself.”
DM: “I hear you have a story to tell, so by all means, let’s hear it.”
Cruroar: And Cruroar busts out with the Diplomacy check! Or are you gonna make me use fucking Performance for this… I could Bluff, too, but why are we lying?
Brunt: A 20 wouldn’t get us out of this. Just roll.
Cruroar: 25.
DM: The baron watches as you throw that die on the table. “Oh, that was a mighty good roll. Why should I believe you?”
Cruroar: I was rolling and then I was gonna do my Diplomacy, but I guess you don’t wanna hear it. No, don’t worry about it, it’s too late, you made a smartass comment.
Tasha: 24 on my Bluff.
Normilan: Bluff?
Cruroar: Why are you trying to lie?!
Tasha: I’m not trying to lie, I just couldn’t think of what else to do.
Brunt: I bash someone’s head on the table. Since I’m a murderer.
Tasha: 22 on my Diplomacy to convince him we’re not the guilty party.
Brunt: 28 to Intimidate our way out of this!
DM: You smash a guard to the wall, pulping him.
Brunt: I’ll just scoop it up into a jar. This is actually my line of preserves.
DM: Chunk salsa, Brunt salsa.
Cruroar: Now can I try, since you’re not letting me?
DM: I’m not letting you?! I’M NOT LETTING YOU?!

Cruroar explains that the ‘criminal’ they released was Krosten, who had been given a show trial, and that they had been arrested for ‘stealing’ the gold they had attempted to return. He very, very quickly waxes sarcastic.

Cruroar: “Remember that, guys, returning gold is a criminal act. Keeping it for yourself is fine.”
DM: “That’s a fine story, but why should I believe it? What are the odds that Sir Krosten—“
Cruroar: (making a ‘holding something’ gesture)
DM: (silence)
Cruroar: I’m holding the seal!
DM: As you hold up the signet ring, the baron peers at it, then snaps his fingers. A guard steps forward and offers up his palm, expecting it to be delivered unto him.
All: (extremely skeptical noises)
Cruroar: “This is Krosten’s seal. He honored us to keep it safe. Your guard here… who knows what he’ll do with it? Maybe he’ll crush it, maybe he’ll throw it away.”
DM: “He’s not going to do anything in my presence, he’s going to bring it here so I can look at it.”
Brunt: He’s going to send it to the King, saying, “See, Krosten said these guys were the murderers!” Brunt’s not talking. Give him the ring.
Cruroar: I don’t like the way this is going.
Brunt: How else was it gonna go?! You walked into the Emperor’s chambers and said, “Hey, can I turn Vader back to the Light?”
DM: There’s a long pause.
Brunt: Well, are we gonna fight, or we gonna hand the ring over? That’s probably our options.
Cruroar: If we give him the ring, that’s it. We’re gonna have to kill them all to get it back.
Brunt: If we don’t give him the ring, we’re gonna have to fight.
Cruroar: No we’re not.
DM: “So your only evidence for this story is a signet ring you won’t show it to me.”
Cruroar: “I’ve shown it to you. If you want to take a closer look you can come. Right now your man, I do not trust.”
DM: “He’s my guard. He’s in my pay. Saying you don’t trust him is saying you don’t trust me. If you don’t trust me why should I trust you.”
Tasha: “You’re absolutely right. We’re gonna leave. Sorry to waste your time.”
Brunt: Hey Baron, catch!
DM: The baron speaks. “But you’ll trust me.” He holds out his hands.
Cruroar: (laughs skeptically, then starts weeping openly)
Brunt: He is weeping openly, I take that as a sign he lacks trust. I will surrender it to him if he will not. The baron is going to claim it’s a fake, and have us locked up…

Everyone rolls Sense Motive, as if this will somehow help them.

DM: He appears to be sincere in his motivation.
Tasha: Oh come on, dude, that doesn’t give away shit!

The guard accepts the ring, not without a certain level of lambasting from Eilnys, then takes the ring to the baron. The baron takes the ring from him.

Eilnys: Dammit.
DM: “So what do you think about the ring?” “What ring.” His hand is empty…The baron takes the ring from him and peers down at it. His expression goes from mild amusement to shock, then to horror. “This IS Sir Krosten’s seal!” He points an accusing finger at Stern. “You told me he was never near that town.” “Well yes, I did – we discussed this –“ “Guards! Seize this man!” The guards immediately move from their positions to seize Stern by the shoulders. He is unresisting, his face is one of shock. They haul him to his feet, knocking the chair over behind him. The baron commands them to take him off to the dungeon – what are you ROLLING?!
Cruroar: I’m seeing if this is some kind of act. Sense Motive on the act! Im actually checking Stern. I want to see if what he’s showing is actual surprise.
DM: This is honest-to-God surprise, he did not see this coming. Either he’s a much better actor than you believe, or he’s completely genuine.

The PCs are skeptical still, because the god’s information told them not to trust the baron. The baron sends out the others in the room, then bids the PCs sit and eat. They immediately start rolling Fortitude saves.

Eilnys: “Lord baron, forgive me for my impertinence, but Sir Krosten entrusted me with that ring, and I would like to have it back.”
DM: “Well answer me this, where’s Sir Krosten now?”
Eilnys: “Spindlethrift.”
Cruroar: “Our hometown. He’s defending it from a goblin horde. “
Normilan: “Otherwise he would be here with us.”

They give the baron a very brief summation of the plot to date, to Tasha’s confusion. Brunt makes a cheap Baroness joke as the baron hears of Krosten’s request for reinforcements.

DM: “I’ll have my men-at-arms gathered up and dispatched immediately.”
Brunt: You’re going to kill all your men-at-arms? I’m done, I’m done… I promise.
DM: Look at this, as soon as a god tells you not to trust someone, you don’t trust them, I can’t believe you guys.
Cruroar: All I envision is him sending out troops to reinforce the goblins. Now they have catapults. And we come back, there’s an army of men laughing at the corpses of our village, their heads on pikes.
Brunt: “You fools couldn’t have made it any easier for me if you’d killed Krosten yourself.!”
Cruroar: Slow-claps aplenty. The baron is out there, somehow beat us there, the baron we’re with opens his mask up and he’s Old Man Withers from the mill.

There’s a long silence, either the DM being stunner or just letting them get it out of their system. The PCs do elect to believe the baron, if only because Sir Krosten is still out there to speak to the king on their behalf if betrayal is the order of the day. Their elf companion also vouches that they have slain the local bandits. The baron bids a man set out sacks of money for each of them.

Tasha: Hush money.
Brunt: It’s copper!
Cruroar: It’s more money we supposedly stole!
Brunt: How much worse can it get?
Cruroar: ..can we have a bill of sale? We’re getting receipts for everything from now on.
Brunt: Brunt is resigned to be a hanged man…
DM: “Gentlemen, ladies, this is small compensation for what you’ve been through, at the hands of a man I thought could be trusted, and as a reward for defeating the bandits who have been plaguing these lands.”
Tasha: “Out of curiosity, Baron, what exactly DID Stern tell you happened?”
DM: “He told me that you had stolen from the taxman, and attempted to legitimize your theft by claiming to have recovered it. Clearly this was a few light truths concealing a heavy lie.”
Tasha: “But he told you Krosten was nowhere near…”
DM: “He made no mention of Krosten.”
Cruroar: That’s an interesting lie…. Out of character I say that!
DM: You might wanna keep this till you can speak about it in character.

The baron asks them to do a job for him in turn – a group of wayfarers has taken over his hunting lodge, and he needs them rousted. Alive or dead, he tells them.

DM: “The less damaged my property is, the more I will reward you.”
Tasha: “There goes throwing alchemists’ fire.”
DM: “Please do not burn down my hunting lodge…”

The baron tells them the foes number at least ten. The PCs reluctantly agree this is the obvious next adventure, or rather, not an unreasonable request.

Eilnys: I’m going to ask for that ring back again.
DM: “Sir Krosten’s coming here. I’d rather hold onto it to give it to him myself personally, to ensure that he doesn’t believe that I’ve believed Stern’s lies and thrown you in the dungeon somewhere.”
Tasha: “With all due respect, Baron, having Stern in the dungeon should be enough evidence of that.”
DM: “Unless I was making some sort of grand scheme.”
Normilan: “It was entrusted to our care, sir, with all due respect.”
Brunt: You have initiated a battle of wills. Tap X.
DM: The baron does offer the argument that if Sir Krosten arrives early and is stuck here waiting for you, it could delay his reporting to the king.
Cruroar: Oh. Oh wow, he countered this pretty well, man.
Brunt: He’s got reason on his side. Unless we come flat out and say, “All right, the game’s up, Snidely…” Well played.
DM: The baron rises, draws his blade, sets it in front of you with the point down, clasps his hands at the hilt. “I swear upon my honor as baron appointed by the gods to rule over the people, that I shall return the ring to Sir Krosten.”
Cruroar: (near frantic) Do we believe the DM? Or do we believe the seven-headed god?!
Brunt: He didn’t swear what condition Krosten would be in when he gave it to him! Yes, he’ll put it right on his dead stiff finger…

Sense Motive helps them not at all, and the baron beckons in the man who knows about the house – the new character!

DM: Your character, whose name I do not know… (expectant pause)
Giles: I used a random name generator, because I had no idea.
DM: The baron introduces you as a man who is familiar with his hunting lodge. You know the layout and you know how to get there.

The baron gives the lodging for the night. The PCs become much more charitable after discovering the baron has given them 750 gold each.

Tasha: We’re gonna burn in hell for the seven deadly sins of greed.
DM: All sevens deadly sins are greed, now. On the upside, wrath is A-OK in this game.

It waxes into Bioshock references for some reason. The DM violently forces them to roleplay with Giles for a it; Brunt responds by tossing the rogue his warhammer. They take a moment to assess their equipment and consider spending their money.

DM: Brunt, the baron’s men plead with you not to kill.
Brunt: (Ahnuld) “I swear I will not kill any—“
Normilan: He BRISTLES!

Normilan proposes Brunt hire a bunch of people with tower shields to provide on-the-fly dungeoncrash surfaces. The PCs introduce themselves to Giles, and on the next day they travel off to the manor!

DM: The baron has kindly given you a pony for Eilnys.
Cruroar: A wild pony, almost impossible to ride.
Eilnys: Hey, I’m a barbarian, I have a ride skill. I fear no pony.
Tasha: I am a cleric that has been knocked unconscious more times in this game than anybody else has. The dude in the dungeon when we rescued Sir Krosten, the bandits who jumped us…
Brunt: It’s not directed at you, it’s his way of punishing us for not protecting the healer. Then again you DO rush into combat…

The hunting lodge is a week away, and the rain swiftly begins. The group grimly sets their watch order in anticipation of dire animals.

DM: Why are you so certain it’s going to be a dire animal?!
Normilan: It’s ALWAYS a dire animal.
DM: Sometimes it’s weasels!
Brunt: They were dire weasels.
Cruroar: Remember, it was just a weasel in a house, and I smashed it…
DM: Oddly enough, the book fell open to dire animals.
Tasha: That’s because it’s the page you go most often!

The PCs draw out their campsite at the DM’s behest. The DM threatens them with the half-dragon treant, then everyone makes jokes about “wights” that are in poor taste. Tasha, on first watch, hears something rustling in the woods! Tasha wakes up Normilan, whose watch is next, then goes into the bushes to investigate.

DM: You see nothing as you step further out. The darkness continues to grow around you.
Tasha: Well, then I’m gonna stop. And I’m gonna take out and use…
Cruroar: My alchemist’s fire!
Tasha: My sunrod.
Cruroar: That’s a little out of character. Safety?
Tasha: (mimes snapping it)
DM: All right, it doesn’t work that way, so you destroyed it.
Tasha: Oh, and I have my signal whistle ready.
Eilnys: To call Appa.
Tasha: That’s right, ‘cuz Appa will beat things up.
Cruroar: This guy’s got precise rapid shots. Neck. Whistle.

The DM gets up to put some stuff on the map. Cruroar cheerfully molests him as the DM steps too close to his chair.

Cruroar: I’m just creeping around over here, it’s okay.
Normilan: Yeah, Cruroar is being a big creeper tonight.
DM: Whatddya mean? Every night, dude.
Cruroar: Every time he comes over he’s huddling over me. “Cruroat, I WANT you!”
DM: I can only assume he’s making a joke of his secret homosexual attraction to me to act it out without being accused of it.
Cruroar: I don’t see how it’s secret the way I keep doing it. I’m pretty sure it’s known.
Normilan: I’m pretty sure it’s mutual.
Cruroar: He’s not fighting it.
DM: There’s no fighting it. All right, you crack open the sunrod—
Normilan: Drink its contents, and glow for an hour.
Tasha: Can I shoot laser beams out of my eyes?
Cruroar: For about an hour. Before you die.
Tasha: Fortitude save!
DM: You crack it open and reveal two startled wolves hunched over in the undergrowth. You forgot the THIRD thing I always throw at you, Normilan.

Initiative is called for, and rolled. In the middle of what is a cheerful version of the Cheers theme with D&D-styled lyrics, Brunt abruptly turns the lyrics into a zing on non-north-oriented map, infuriating the DM. A wolf attempts to eat Tasha, but is repelled by her armor. Another wolf attempts to eat Normilan, but deals pathetic damage and even fails to trip him. They quickly strike back: Tasha hits one with a sword, but three more wolves burst out of the undergrowth to flank the players!

Brunt: Wolf cavalry all of a sudden!
DM: This one… can’t get to you through the tents, so it’s running around.
Brunt: Snarled in the tent poles!
Cruroar: Those tents aren’t exactly sturdy!
DM: Yeah, this wolf doesn’t exactly want to crash through it and have canvas fall on its head and shoulders.
Brunt: Those wolves aren’t that smart! When’s the last time you saw a wolf pitch a tent!
DM: What’s your armor class?
Cruroar: In the morning! …in my new armor, 13.
DM: Horrifically, both wolves miss you.
Tasha and Brunt: Horrifically.
DM: From my perspective.

Eilnys annihilates a wolf, and Normilan punishes another with Fists of Stone. Brunt attempts to go back to sleep. Giles bursts from hiding to stab a wolf, or actually club it since it turns out he’s using maces, and his sneak attacks slaughter the thing handily. A huge level of confusion erupts over what weapons Tasha is holding and what were dropped; it finally ends with Tasha dropping the sunrod, taking a 5 foot step, scooping up her crossbow, then firing it.

Tasha: (dropping a die, then looking dismayed)
DM: One?
Tasha: No. That wasn’t a roll, that was me dropping the sunrod.
DM: It wouldn’t have been if you had rolled a 20.
Tasha: No it would not have been.
Cruroar: It’s important to never drop a sunrod, it can explode.
DM: In a retributive strike.
Normilan: “Crack me open, will you!?”

The players have gained total advantage over the wolves, and they drop a couple more before the remaining ones head for the hills. The DM cheerfully notes that the rest of the trip is completely uneventful, because there is never more than one random encounter between events.

DM: Would you like the good news, or the bad news?
Brunt: There is no good news.
Normilan: Yeah, the good news is only slightly better than the bad news.
Cruroar: I didn’t poop my pants, that’s some good news right there.
DM: You’ll reach the manor house by the end of this day, but as you travel the weather has turned.
Brunt: Turned from downpour to – you rolled hurricane.
DM: Downpour to crashing thunderstorm that pours gallons of water on you. There is no protection from this, it is simply raw misery. You walk through it and you are soaked to the bone. You could probably swim to the hunting lodge if you were so inclined. It’s that bad.
Cruroar: It’s a pity I bought a raft! …I’m just playing.
DM: You know, before they retooled it slightly, the entire plot of the third expansion of WoW was just Icecrown melting, and water levels rising across the globe.
Cruroar: Really.
DM: Yeah, that’s why it was originally known as Raft of the Lich King.

Silence.

Tasha: Wow. Giles, I’m telling you, it is much worse vocally in person than typed out in WoW.
Normilan: Yeah, but he has to hear it during the raids.
Cruroar: Oh my god, he’s just as bad in Vent. The first night was like, “Wow, he is just as bad here!” Eilnys is like, “Yep.”

Everyone spends a moment high-fiving over the joy of killing Kor’kron, then turn to figuring out how to get into the manor house. Tasha plans to disguise herself and sneak in, then unlock the doors.

Normilan: Or we could have the rogue do that, ‘cuz that’d be awesome.
Tasha: I will disguise the rogue…
DM: As the talking candlestick. “Be… our… guest!”
Cruroar: What is the purpose, I don’t understand why he needs to disguise and be stealthed. If he’s properly stealthed, he will never be seen, and if they catch him being stealthed, it doesn’t matter what he’s disguised as, he’s suspicious.
DM: Unless he’s disguised as an unforeseen servant.
Tasha: Rogue, do you have a lockpick ability?
Normilan: This ISN’T WoW!
Tasha: We asked him earlier if he was a combat rogue or an RP rogue, and he said combat!

The manor is well-lit and clearly its inhabitants are making free of what they’ve found. Someone accidentally lights the DM’s hand on fire, for reasons that are unclear on the transcription. Giles takes the lead, sneaking up to the house. Giles is briefly forced to struggle with a vampong, which shocks Brunt into hilarious laughter.

Giles: Do I sense any traps?
DM: Are you checking for traps?
Giles: …I’m gonna check now!
DM: I mean, there’s a difference between “Do I SENSE any traps” and “I’m checking for traps”…

Giles believes he finds no traps, which leads the players to furiously nitpick this phrasing, and then discovers the door is barred from the other side. He pauses a moment to consider his options.

Tasha: Come back and take the ladder from me so you can get through a second-story window.
Normilan: Don’t talk to him…
DM: “COME BACK AND GET THE LADDER FROM ME!” shouts Tasha.

Tasha instead takes the ladder to him, while the DM expresses skepticism about the entire ladder thing to begin with. Cruroar attempts to set cupcake wrappers on fire, while Normilan blatantly ignores him in a show of complete hypocrisy. The DM explodes.

DM: WHY AREN’T YOU YELLING AT HIM?! Now you see it! You yell at me, why the fuck aren’t you yelling at him? WHY AM I ALWAYS PERSECUTED?! I can’t do anything! “Oh, Cruroar can set things on fire, let me set things on fire—“ “Oh no, don’t do that, DM, that’s bad.” “Oh look what happens when I do this!” “Oh don’t do that, DM!”
Cruroar: And they call ME the angry one. Jeez.

Giles heads up a ladder and listens at the window, promptly hearing sounds inside. He reports this back to Tasha.

Tasha: All right, I break the window and throw in alchemists’ fire.
DM: Okay.
Cruroar: Well there goes our reward.
Tasha: Good god, I can’t make jokes outside of character with this guy.
Cruroar: No, because your character would do that. Has almost done that.
DM: You threatened to set the entirety of Grand Mill on fire to facilitate your own escape.
Tasha: Yeah! You do what you gotta do. I’m not lawful or anything… I’m neutral. I look out for the greater good. Which is me.

Tasha is dissuaded from following through with her jokes, and the characters ponder their options for a minute.

Tasha: Hey, is there a bonus penalty for charging at the door with the battering ram?
Cruroar: I love the term ‘bonus penalty’.

The group takes sides on the argument of throwing a rock through the window to lure them out, or as Brunt puts it, being the monsters in a slasher flick. Giles pops the lock on a window effortlessly and attempts to sneak in, but someone inside notices the window open and he quickly abandons this plan. Instead, he, Tasha, and Eilnys around to the very back of the house in the hopes that no one will be in the trophy room. Giles rolls his Open Lock check.

Giles: Natural 1.
DM: As you go to open the lock, you lose your balance and your fist plunges through the oilcloth, bursting into the room. You hear a startled cry from the inside. “Hey, what’s that thing?!” “IT’S A FIST, DUDE!” A hue and cry goes up. What do you do?

Total silence.

DM: While you consider your options, a metal goblet, square in shape, crashes through the oilcloth next to your fist.
Giles: I think I’m going to retreat from that one.

Giles scrambles away from the window. Eilnys hurls it right back in, while Cruroar gives up on the no-smashy reward and commands Brunt to take out the front door. The group piles on to the portable ram and charges!

DM: You come back around to the front side just in time to see these two: Brunt, and Normilan –
Normilan: The WIZARD.
DM: Crash through. The front doors are ripped off their hinges and clatter to the ground. Behind them, the bar bursts its mooring and crashes into a small group of people standing on the other side, dashing through them and knocking them to the ground. However, another group is pouring through the doors. It’s initiative time.

The DM draws out the map(s) and plops down a bunch of minis, receiving relentless hassling on the way. Eilnys leaps through the back window, drawing her club as she does. The group settles on the rallying cry of “the bandits did it!” to justify all property damage. Two bandits miss Eilnys utterly. Normilan’s turn comes up.

Cruroar: Fireball! That can only lead to good things!

Normilan enlarges Brunt, and several bandits attempt to hurt him – but the two who hit him have their damage warded away by the one-round DR Normilan’s Toughening Transmutation gives him. The next one up, however, Foehammers Brunt.

DM: And it’s the worst damage roll ever.
Cruroar: 29.
Brunt: 9 points of damage. FOEHAMMER!
DM:12 points of damage, in fact.
Cruroar: It’s okay.
Brunt: It’s okay. We haven’t done damage to one guy and I’m halved right off the bat. 21 hit?
DM: Yes, who are you hitting?
Cruroar: Attack Thorhammer guy. He’s right there. Hit Forearmer guy. Foe—forehammer—FOEHAMMER guy.

Brunt deals 17 damage total to the guy. In the back room, one guy deals 9 to Eilnys. Giles leaps forward and clocks a dude with his mace, while Cruroar blows a wand activation to his absolutely fury. One guy steps up determinedly, dealing 8 points of damage to Giles. Tasha leaps in the window in turn, rolling poorly but still clocking a dude, while Eilnys power attacks for 15. A swarm of mooks charges Brunt, one of them getting swatted, but their surge of hits only produce 2 completely warded away blows and a crit that does 3 points after DR.

Cruroar: Oh, they’re in a nice little line right there.
Brunt: Fire! Lightning!
DM: SMOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOG!

More guys charge into the room, including one with his pants down. The players call BS on the number of “at least 10”, then immediately assume they were sent to their deaths.

DM: The baron DID send a man in his own employ with you. He’d be sacrificing Giles.
Tasha: That doesn’t mean shit. That doesn’t mean shit! The baron can sacrifice his own man, he don’t care.
Brunt: Probably was due up for his pension soon.
DM: It’s like you don’t trust the baron for some reason.
Cruroar: I dunno. Some god said no.

The DM starts muttering about whether you can use a Dragon Ball wish to refresh the Dragon Ball recharge duration, while Normilan casts his Fists of Stone spell. Tasha takes a short sword to the thigh for 9. Brunt’s foe heals himself with Revitalizing Strike. Brunt, who has a x3 weapon, crits for a minimum of 41 before dice are even rolled.

DM: You hit this person so hard their torso disintegrates beneath the blow of your hammer. Four limbs and a head fly out in four different direction. One shears off, another one manages to blow sideways so hard it gets lodged under that door over there. The head bounces into the chandelier where the hair begins to smoke.
Brunt: He’s not gonna want to stay in this house again. HEE HEE! MY CLEAVE ROLLED A 20!
DM: Who are you cleaving?
Brunt: I can reach this guy…
Cruroar: Does he look more dangerous?
DM: Look, whoever you hit is dead.

Giles stabs a mook, while Cruroar blows his UMD again. A rogue tumbles behind Giles and sneak attacks for 7. The players begin sadly singing about never splitting the party. The mooks flood forward, taking horrible damage but slowly chiseling down Brunt in turn, while Normilan punches one to death.

Giles: I hope you guys don’t make me roll a new character, it took me what, a month to roll this one?

Brunt crits and cleaves again, Giles inflicts some more damage, and Cruroar botches his UMD yet again. Eilnys drops another. A screaming minion charges Brunt to slay him, eats an AOO, and never even makes it into range. Shaking his head, the DM rules the final guys to be basically noncombatants, and the battle effectively order. Their final total is 25, though many of the last are caught sleeping or drunk.

DM: You mop up the rest of these guys and your task is well done. Taking a moment to secure and repair the front doors and lock them as best you can, take a day to get your health back, and set off for the baron’s manor. The weather is better this time, traveling is good, and you return there in time.
Tasha: We’re gonna loot the bodies before we leave…
DM: Yeah, don’t worry about that, I’m speeding this up so we can wrap it up. You return to the baron and he greets you warmly. He tells you Sir Krosten has been here since you left, inquired about them, checked on Stern and everything, and he returned the signet ring. Then he casually surveys you. “Well, you’ve all done a magnificent job. You’ve more than earned the reward I planned to give you. However, I’d like to make a further off to you.”
Normilan: “Take this letter!” Sorry.
DM: “My understanding of you all is that you are for the most part simple countryfold. You’re from Spidlethrift, am I not correct? But for all that, you’re all very competent. Therefore, I’d like you to come and work for me.”
Normilan: “As promising as that is, sir, we have other business to take care of.”
DM: “What business would that be?”
Normilan: “We need to go to the capital.”
Tasha: “Baron, as much as I would love to accept your offer, I must decline. I can’t deprive the people of this land of my services.”
DM: “I don’t see how serving in my capacity as cleric would be depriving the people of the land of your services. You’d be doing them a favor to assist me.”
Cruroar: “Perhaps if the offer still stands when we return from our other obligations, we can discuss it then.”

The baron puts the hard sell on them, but they turn him down repeatedly, insisting their other duties have priority.

DM: “Well then, if it is such your calling allow me to offer you one service for all you have done to me, and bequeath unto you my carriage for the trip.”
Tasha: “A public execution! In your honor!”
Cruroar: He’s so fucking with us. Just every moment I’m waiting for him to pull the lever and the cage drops down…
Brunt: The baron is like Handsome Jack.
DM: You guys are gonna get in the carriage, when you get out you’re in a metal cage somehow. He’s driven you into a lion den somehow…

The baron continues pressing this on them until Cruroar sits bolt upright and looks around.

Cruroar: Wait, wait a minute! Are we gonna now get arrested for stagecoach robbery?! Perhaps we could buy some horses…
Brunt: Shh! He’ll give them to us!
Cruroar: I want a bill of sale. I want a receipt. I want a goddamn receipt! “We did not steal these horses, right here!” We look at it, the text changes. “Stolen horse.”
Normilan: Damn you, magical script.

They refuse the baron at every instance, every turn, and every opportunity, and he at last allows the manner to rest. That being the end of game, they get their experience rewards and stuff, and then another night ends!