The DM opens by attempting to imply that the game about to be run has a list of positive adjectives longer than your arm; naturally, the players each start wondering when they were conscripted to run their games.

DM: You all can go straight to hell.
Tasha: Already there, buddy, already there.
Brunt: Well, I tried to find my way there but the map wasn’t pointed the right direction…

Cruroar attempts to console the DM with the knowledge the vampire monk is effective in Pathfinder, and in turn the DM relates a dream in which the players were such relentless douchebags that he ended up flipping a table. Anyway, last time the players had defeated the disguised elf cavern guards. The cave they enter goes down some distance and whoever is down there surely can’t have heard them. As they reach a sharp curve in the cave, the DM calls for Listen checks; they call out numbers in the 15-20 range.

DM: All right, you all hear nothing.
Brunt: 84.
DM: All right, you are punished for lying.
Brunt: But what did I hear?
DM: THIS is what you heard! (flipping off Brunt)
Brunt: There are birds down here! I must slay them.

No one has a good combination of low-light vision and Dexterity, so they glumly send Giles on ahead… and somehow everyone ends up going. The group cheerfully mocks Iglar for some reason. Eilnys steps ahead, and promptly catches her foot on a trip wire, but manages not to snap it.

Eilnys: I wave Giles up.
DM: Giles, you are being waved up.
Cruroar: It’s time for you to use Disarm Trap.
Normilan: In the dark.
DM: Disable Device.
Giles: Well that’s brilliant. I didn’t think to actually train that. Like an idiot.
Eilnys: Oh gosh.
Normilan: It’s like what’s-his-face. Benar. Doesn’t have Open Lock…
DM: He doesn’t have Open Lock because in theory, Falgrim can open any door. You motion your rogue forward, only to discover he’s unable to disable the trap.
Brunt: Welp, I’ll go back and look for a pig. It’s a proven tactice.

Eilnys steps around the corner and promptly takes an arrow to the arm for 1 point of damage (and three others miss).

Brunt: And make a Fortitude saving throw…
Eilnys: He will NEVER make me make a Fortitude saving throw.
Brunt: No, because he despises poison.
Eilnys: No, it’s not even that, it’s because as a third level character my Fortitude save is +9.
Brunt: Yeah, but he could just say ‘you fail’.
Tasha: As he does with my defensive abilities…

Initiative is rolled! The DM reveals the map as far as Eilnys can see, including a pool of water to one side and slippery terrain nearby.

Tasha: Enough with your slippery terrain into the poisonous boiling water, with the spiky rocks at the bottom! Every time, he’s like, “oh, this is the oil slick hill”.

Giles is up first, and Cruroar advises him to hide and sneak up on their foes.

Giles: That’s exactly what I’ll do. I don’t think there’s any effectiveness in doing anything else like running out and saying, “Hey, please turn me into a pincushion!” Which is not an effective fighting tactic last time I checked.
Tasha: This hill is covered in oil…
Brunt: Poison oil.
Tasha: Spiky rocks at the bottom. Do you cross the single rope bridge? Oh look at that, somebody fired a flaming arrow…

Someone fires an arrow at Giles, prompting him to declare uselessness (and the rest of the group to spout memes, for no apparent reason, not that this group NEEDS a reason to spout memes). Cruroar debates casting Darkness.

DM: Darkness will actually provide darkness, that’s a house rule I always stand by.

For the uniformed, the Darkness spell creates an area of shadowy illumination as written, which is overtly nonsensical. Eilnys moves forward, scouting out the rest of this cavern. The DM places down three elf minis and a skeleton.

DM: This is our fourth elf.
Brunt: He’s a bit… seasoned.

The DM curses his inability to roll higher than 1 on a d8, and Eilnys and Cruroar each take a point of damage. Another one botches. Normilan helpfully points out walls that elves can be dungeoncrashed into.

Tasha: Careful, though, because apparently that water is boiling hot, with spiky rocks at the bottom.
Brunt: It’s lava.
DM: It’s lava under an illusion spell of being normal water. I rolled your Will saving throws for you secretly, you don’t realize you’re cooking to death from convection as we speak. I’m rolling damage every round as you blister…
Giles: Can I do a Reflex save for burning to death?
Brunt: But the soup was poison!

Normilan fires off a magic missile at one, then Tasha and Brunt advance. Cruroar declares Brunt to be arbitrarily hit.

Brunt: That sword cuts both ways.
DM: Into you, and out of you.
Tasha: I’m wondering if I should…
Brunt: Charge and get pincushioned?

Tasha tosses out a bless as Brunt double-moves forward and plants his tower shield. Cruroar, offering to give Giles a better view of the enemy, points the camera at the DM; in return, the DM vows to send such a bowstringing down on him. Giles sneakily clambers up onto the topmost ledge. An elf fires at Brunt, but his armor deflects it. Cruroar blasts an elf for max damage, smashing him into a wall and taking him out. Another elf fails to harm Eilnys, but the second shoots her for 5. Tasha buffs Brunt with Bull’s Strength, in a wonderful display of overkill, and Brunt obligingly dungeoncrashes the nearest elf.

DM: You slam into this elf, but either you didn’t get the proper momentum or things just aren’t going well for you today, but he manages to take the blow, brace his back leg, and shoulder you off with a surprising show of strength.
Tasha: Aww, I wanted to see that guy go splat, across the wall…

Giles sneak-attacks the elf up on the ledge for 13 damage, which drops him like a sack of meat. Cruroar fires into the fray despite the DM’s every attempt to thwart him, dealing 11 points of damage and slaying his target. With the elves dismissed, they bemoan the lack of goblins to kick for loot and potions, and continue on.

DM: Are you proceeding cautiously, hurriedly, how are you going?
Normilan: (after a long pause) Purposefully.

The group forms their marching order up again, while in the background a goat screams. They travel down the tunnel, a stream trickling by them as they proceed.

Cruroar: I wish I could have a shark familiar. There’d always be a sluice nearby.
DM: Nightshark. The crime-solving shark.
DM and Cruroar: “There’s always a canal.”
Normilan: Or a fjord. Or a delta.

They advance forward, finding the next cavern to be filled with massive columns of stone, and a large pool of water on one side.

Cruroar: Remember guys, keep away from deep water. Last time we got near deep water, water elementals attacked us. We want to keep away from that.
Tasha: Wait, you mean I can’t go splashing into the middle of my water, thrusting my sword.
DM: …try to keep this in character and not referencing previous game.
Cruroar: I make a Knowledge(arcane) check. Deep water can have water elementals. In-character! Normilan’s master had warned him of such pools… We don’t see any movement?
DM: No you don’t.
Cruroar: Oh, that means they’re hiding behind the rocks.
Tasha: She’s all tied up in the back.
Cruroar: Nope, she’s already dead. Time to leave this area.
Tasha: If we leave in twos, they won’t suspect us as much.
Cruroar: Watch all these guys be the real guards, and the ones that died were mock bodies…
Giles: One of the rules that I’ve learned about D&D, one of the few, is never give the DM ideas.
Brunt: We’re gonna spend all night clearing this dungeon, and at the end it’s gonna be like, “thanks, guys, but the princess is in another castle!”
DM: You see a flagpole. What do you do?
Brunt: Jump over it!
DM: Welcome to Minus World.
Giles: Oh crap, not Minus World.
Normilan: We’re gonna be here for a while…

Cruroar starts lobbing darkness-imbued pebbles into the room. They start looking for traps, then push Brunt into the lead and travel forward. Brunt moves around a column and promptly endures an attack!

DM: My rolling’s shit tonight, I rolled a natural 20, then a natural 1. A pair of arrows fly out as two people step out from behind the stalactites up there. You take four points of damage as one thunks into you and through your armor. The other skitters off into the darkness. It’s initiative time!
Brunt: (considering the map) It looks like the world’s worst pepperoni pizza. Either that or little pieces of sausage and sunny-side-up eggs…
DM: All this work to make an interesting environment for you guys to fight…
Normilan: It IS interesting!

Giles, the first to act, starts sneaking forward, while Tasha fires her crossbow and misses entirely. Eilnys advances forward, and the elves continue to fire, the next two hitting but dealing minimal damage. Brunt reluctantly ventures into the water to advance.

DM: All right, as you step forward—
Cruroar: I knew there was water elementals!
DM: There’s no water elementals!
Normilan: LESSER water elementals?
Tasha: ULTRA water elementals!
DM: You step forward, past here. You abruptly discover there is an elf on the other side who’s been waiting for someone to move into her range! She strikes at you. Her blade passes through your armor as if it wasn’t there, and you take a whopping three point of damage…
Normilan: How are we fucking with Brilliant Energy weapons?! I’m just messing with you…
DM: Don’t be Cruroar. Nobody likes Cruroar.
Cruroar: You told us about this dream you had, Normilan was like, “Oh, time to make it a reality!”
DM: A-fucking-pparently!

Giles spots another hiding elf as he steps forward, and is not noticed in turn; he tries to alert Cruroar with hand signals without giving himself away.

Cruroar: He’s trying to alert me.
Tasha: “THERE’S A GUY BEHIND THE PILLAR!”
Brunt: “Has anybody seen the Joker?”

One of the elves fires an eldritch blast at Brunt, delighting Cruroar inasmuch as another warlock has appeared. Cruroar demands that everyone attack criminals; Eilnys obliges and hits for 11, while Tasha casts a spell that makes one guy shaken for a round.

Normilan: Thing Ring, do your thing! Fists of Stone!

Normilan immediately eats an arrow that his temporary DR knocks down to 3, and a second arrow that the DR completely negates; the players mock the DM for his efforts. The melee fighter elf deals 12 to Brunt, who obligingly dungeoncrashes her into the wall for 21.

DM: You actually seize her by her shirt and charge forward, using her like you would use a tower shield to interrupt the mace of the giant column. You slam her into it; you feel her sternum snap and her organs give way beneath your forearm.
Brunt: Brunt’s a misogynist!

Ignoring his own earlier predictions of water elementals, Cruroar steps into the water and snaps off a blast. Giles continues to sneak forward. The enemy warlock deploys an eldritch glaive, but misses. Tasha heals Brunt, and Eilnys stomps forward to try to get to another foe. Normilan takes an arrow for its full damage, for once – it’s only 3. Brunt dungeoncrashes the warlock, but demands the DM not describe the result.

Tasha: Hey, does clothing count as unattended objects…?
DM: The eldritch blast hammers into his abdomen. He coughs up a little bit of blood, but doesn’t even bother to wipe it away.
Cruroar: As the GM coughs up a bit of food. Doesn’t even bother to wipe it away.

Tasha bemoans her inability to pass off her ladder to Giles, while everybody else expresses their incredulity at this whole 10’ ladder thing to begin with. One archer knocks Normilan down to 0 exactly, then cheaply fires a final arrow into him, dropping him to -3.

Cruroar: I’ma blast ‘em again!
Normilan: He rolls a 1, blasts it into Normilan’s body.
Cruroar: No no no no no, I’m gonna risk it… come on, wand! Do us good!

>Normilan is too high up for anyone to reach, so they huirriedly slay one of the archers before he can do more harm. Giles springs from hiding, dealing 15 damage, and Eilnys finishes him off. The field is theirs!

DM: Up here there is a table and chairs, there are a couple of sleeping rolls, and there is the pile of sacks.
Tasha: It’s just like in Skyrim.
DM: I have been playing Skyrim lately…
Tasha: There is three potatoes… a knife, a broom.
Cruroar: I search the sacks.
DM: You reach for one of the sacks, and it lets out a muffled yelp.
Cruroar: Yay!
DM: You rip open the sack and dump out its contents.
Cruroar: This was my first plan was to go up there, “Time to open this bag!” (miming slashing open a sack)
Normilan: “Uh, unfortunately, Sir Krostun, we were too late.”
DM: You rip open the sack, and peering out from inside is the most magnificent elven maiden you have ever laid eyes on.
Tasha: WHERE’S THE PRINCESS!?
DM: Despite the fact that most of her hair has been hacked off, and the fact that she’s dirty, bruised, and thoroughly abused—
Brunt: Brunt is curiously aroused!
Cruroar: I use a charge of the healing rod…
DM: Bruises stand out on otherwise ivory skin. Despite the stench of blood and sweat, she still smells faintly of flowers.
Cruroar: “Listen, miss, we’re here to help you. We need to get you out of here, let me heal up some of your wounds.” 9.
DM: …Oh, that was your healing, not your Use Magic Device check.
Cruroar: No! When it’s out of combat, I can easily use a wand. See? (rolling a die) Used. (rolling again) Oh, that time it failed…
DM: The bruises heal from her skin, she wasn’t all that hurt. Despite that, she still seems to be staring at you in shock, shock that is encompassed as she turns to look at all of you.
Brunt: Hello, what have we here?
Cruroar: “I know ourgroup looks a little… um…” I’m doing a Diplomacy here. “But we gotta get you back to your father. He is not all too pleased about what happened. And it seems that it wasn’t evil, but…” She a wood elf?
DM: No, she is a gray elf.
Cruroar: “It seems like the wood elves are trying to blame the humans for your disappearance.” Rolling Diplomacy…
Normilan: Does she speak Common…?
DM: She can’t get a word in edgewise, you’ll never know. She seems to be struggling with words, more out of a lack of familiarity with the terms…
Normilan: Then I repeat what he says.
DM: As you speak, her eyes turn to you in surprise. She takes a moment to take note of your features.
Cruroar: Even in a dark cave, needing to be rescued, racism comes out! She scowls!
Normilan: No one likes half-breeds.
DM: I didn’t say she was going “eugh!”
Brunt: Sense Motive!
DM: (incoherent angrish) She looked at him, and you guys are freaking out!
Normilan: I probably don’t look good ANYWAY. I’m yanking arrows out of my body.
DM: She still seems very quiet. It’s a long moment before she licks her lips, which are noticeably dry, thanks to the sack –
Eilnys: I’ll pull out a waterskin and some rations!
DM: And no sooner does she lick her lips than waterskins are thrust at her…
Giles: Wait, what the hell is going on here?
Tasha: Brunt is about to throw his hammer at her to make sure that she’s actually who she says she is.
DM: She FINALLY manages to stammer out, in Common, a thank you. She begins picking herself up off the ground, unsteadily, but nevertheless not willing to accept any help.
Brunt: Is that the only occupied sack?
DM: The other sacks are full of food and disguise kits. There are a good 20 disguise kits in there.
Normilan: Throw one of the bodies in the sacks, take it back…

They take a moment to explain to the princess why they’re tossing bodies in the sack; she tells them she will speak to her father. The PCs are naturally leery of anything that isn’t hard and indisputable evidence.

Tasha: “Unless you volunteered to go with these men… in which case you’re in on the war between elves and men.”
Brunt: Oh dear god.
Cruroar: Why you gotta do that?! You are the worst, WORST cleric ever! “Our lady friend here has had a bout of pure insanity.”
Eilnys: If he were a guy, this is about where Eilnys would nutshot him…

They loot the corpses; Tasha attempts to cook them a meal right then and there, and earns some incredulous looks. They head back out!

Cruroar: Once we get out of the cave, I’m gonna send my bird to find Krostun. Put a small message on my bird’s mouth…
DM: It can talk, ya know.
Cruroar: Oh yeah. He’ll whisper Krostun, inform him that we have her…
Brunt: “We have her. If you want her back…”
Tasha: Your bird flies off… comes back with the baron.

The group heads back to the road, with the princess looking at all of them the entire way from sheer curiosity. Brunt tries to talk to her and she nearly tries to hide behind the others, but overcomes the impulse.

DM: It’s clear that she’s a bit uneasy in your presence – RACISM! – but she’s doing her best to get over it.
Tasha: Ooh, Natural 20! I don’t know… I need to think of something good I rolled that for.
DM: All right, you attack the princess.
Tasha: No, I said I need to think of it… I’m gonna hold that action for cooking dinner.

Realizing they have no real plan, they head back to the road, there finding Sir Krostun with an unconscious elf at his feet.

Cruroar: Good job, Krostun.
Brunt: He’s done something.
Cruroar: Oh my god, leave it alone!
Brunt: We can see the results of it.
Cruroar: Golbez did tons of stuff off-camera!
DM: That’s the point. He did tons of stuff off-camera. On camera, “magic missile”.
Brunt: Did Golbez ever have a wood elf alive at his feet?
DM: A magic missile so poorly rolled for damage it was described as ‘feeble’ in the game report…

Sir Krostun promptly apologizes to the princess for what has happened to her. Cruroar gleefully springs the surprise that the kidnappers were wood elves all along, only for Sir Krostun to point out he discovered that from his prisoner already. Cruroar is sad.

Cruroar: “Can you pretend we discovered something you didn’t already know? Pretend? Just a little bit? Please? We found the princess… Give me my moment! I’ll have my moment when I shove it in the king’s face.”
Tasha: I’m gonna disguise myself as somebody not associated with this guy
DM: You head back to the town, taking the fork down, then back.
Cruroar: Quickly, the king sees us and forms another wall!
DM: Of peasants. His Spirit Bomb draws a little peasant from every village on the planet…

The town is still in bad shape, but as they step up the princess steps forward; the elven guard drops to its collective knees, and they pass forward. Cruroar fumes and longs to Intimidate them, while Tasha proposes emptying acid flasks on them.

DM: “There’s a certain quiet dignity in being a good sport.”
Cruroar: (sighing) “All right…”
Brunt: That’s not what it sounds like on the game reports. “The adventurers, their heads between their tails…”
Tasha: Tails between their legs.
Brunt: Yeah, that’s… that’s the one.
Cruroar: Cruroar, obviously disappointed that he cannot smoosh it and gloat in the elves’ face.
Tasha: I’m gonna roll a Bluff check to make it sound like I did a lot more than the rest of them…
Cruroar: What are you doing?!
DM: Who are you bluffing?! Your fellow party members?! Tasha begins spinning a tale of how she singlehandedly took out three archers… TO YOU GUYS!
Normilan: I cast Earthen grasp and grapple her.
DM: You step into the town…
Tasha: Why does everybody keep…
Normilan: Because you do stupid things.
DM: The king is sitting on a sedan chair in the center of town, which is apparently what he’s being transported on – why are you giving me that look?!
Cruroar: Because you said ‘sedan’, and I’m thinking the chair is formed into an actual sedan…
DM: Cruroar, you’re an idiot.
Cruroar: Yes. I don’t find this new.
Normilan: That’s what a sedan is named after…
DM: At the sight of his daughter he rises. At the same time, she rushes forward into his embrace.
Eilnys: “Daddy!”
Cruroar: Throw the body! On the floor!
DM: You hurl the corpse—
Cruroar: I don’t have it! I don’t have it! I whispered to someone to throw the body on the floor!
DM: Who had it?
Normilan: Whoever had it, don’t do it.
Cruroar: Let’s not get in the way of the moment.
Tasha: “Your majesty, we have returned—“
Normilan: Oh my god.
Cruroar: Let them have their moment!
DM: “What is this?” He points at the corpse.
Brunt: “It’s a corpse—“
Tasha: “This is one of the offenders who kidnapped your daughter.”
Normilan: She said something smart for once – sorry! Go ahead!
DM: He gestures idly with his hand, knocking one of the concealing garments off. “I see…” There’s a dark and ominous silence before he turns his back on the body and motions to the man who earlier accosted you, accusing you of being responsible. “You were wrong.” The elf simply inclines his h ead. “Return to Stonewall and deal with this personally. Begone.” He bows formally and steps aside, hurries to a horse. He gets on it and begins galloping off without a moment’s further discourse.
Cruroar: Damn! I was hoping he’d turn and give us a dirty look—
Brunt: Exit Wormtongue, stage left.
DM: He glances at Sir Krosten. “We will continue the negotiations. Let us travel. You six. You will travel in my retinue.”
Brunt: Oh boy.
DM: Roll a Sense Motive! …this is probably an expression of gratitude, as much as this king is capable of unbending himself. Being allowed in his retinue is a sign of honor for a king as uptight as this.
Normilan: I thank him in very, very proper Elven.
DM: A muscle twitches in his jaw.
Cruroar: This’ll be an interesting trip…
Tasha: I’m not speaking loudly enough for the king to hear—
DM: I’ll roll his Listen check!
Tasha: Out of character! Don’t we have other shit today.
DM: You can’t ask that out of character, ask it in character.
Cruroar: They’re headed for the capital.
DM: Luckily for you, the king is returning to his chair, speaking with his daughter quietly as he does, mostly to ask the details of what happened. Sir Krostun breathes a long sigh of relief, tugs at his beard a little. “Thank you, lads and lasses.”
Brunt: Oh! The accent’s back!
DM: I TOLD you, he gets more into his accent when he’s under stress or tired.
Brunt: I’m glad it’s back.
DM: “You’ve done the king a great service today.”
Cruroar: (before Brunt can say anything) Shut up! Can we RP a few minutes without you complaining about the accent?
Brunt: Oh, I’M the one busting up the RP at this table tonight…
Cruroar: I didn’t say I wasn’t, I’m yelling at you for it. Let’s go.

The group forms up slowly but surely to resume their adventure to the capital. Cruroar looks skeptically at the DM.

Cruroar: I’m guessing the journey’s relatively safe?
DM: Well let’s see. What will attack you, Sir Krostun, the elf king, his entire retinue, Sir Krosten’s army—
Brunt: A hurricane! That’s what!
DM: Let’s check the weaaather! (rolling) It’s sunny and clear. Have a brass dragon.
Brunt: (collapsing into hysterics, because apparently ‘brass dragon’ is inherently funny)
Normilan: “Ho, adventurers. How are you today?” Oh that’s right, brass are good. Thank god.
DM: “I’m trying a spot of villainy for a change. Would you kindly die?”
Normilan: DAMN IT!
Eilnys: “No!”
DM: “Aww, come on, please?”
Eilnys: “No!”

Traveling in the retinue is incredibly uncomfortable, because the gray elves have massive sticks up their asses – save for the princess, who routinely engages the PCs in conversation. Tasha, however, rolls a Gather Information check, butters up the guards with a fine meal, and pumps them for information on the alliance and the king’s motives. The DM reveals that the king is entering the alliance for purely pragmatic reasons; he would rather not do it personally, but his advisors and the human king have swayed him. No one is quite sure if there are motives to this beyond a guarantee of peace between the two nations. Eilnys chats stoneworking with the princess. The procession is traveling so slowly that the trip will take a few weeks.

DM: Do any of you have anything you wish to accomplish? Talking? Roleplaying?
Cruroar: Well, look, I’m still trying to figure out if my character – he has a high Charisma, so he can be easily friendly with any of the ladies here. I’m just trying to figure out if I want to do that, ‘cuz he’s not a cleric and it’d be perfectly okay for him to do that, and I’m not comfortable when it’s perfectly okay.
DM: Only when it’s forbidden, you’re cool.
Tasha: Tasha will continue cooking, and will seduce one of the guards… just for something to do.
DM: All right, you’ve got one HELL of a Diplomacy check to roll there…
Tasha: What are you talking about? They were friendly, I cooked for them.
DM: Yes, you puit yourself on the level of a servant. Congratulations.

Cruroar debates talking to the King, but wavers desperately on whether to TRUST the king with any knowledge of the prophecy. He poses the question to the princess instead, disguising his motives beneath an academic debate. This is easy enough;

DM: “Not that long ago, we had a god of prophecy in our pantheon. About a generation back…” And here she’s speaking in elven generations. “Fell silent. Priests, the ones who had powers, lost them. And as near as we can tell, the god either died or ceased to be. No response to this in many a year.”

This somehow leads to Normilan and the princess swapping spells, and the princess’s name finally being asked for in full (Taliana Lassarin). The group chats, mostly OOC, before Cruroar turns the discussion away from that topic again.

DM: Does anyone else have any action they’d like to take?

Incredibly long silence.

Cruroar: I have no intention of getting in trouble by getting into the princess’s panties. He is not a cleric, so he doesn’t have to give into temptation. He can just do it, and he does not have the desire to.
DM: (laughing) You have a weird mind, Cruroar.
Cruroar: I feel like you’re trying to get us to do something stupid!
DM: I’m just asking what you want to do!
Cruroar: I know. But on the boat, when you gave us free time, you saw what happened! This would blow up. Literally. And we’d find ourselves in a ball so quickly.

Eilnys gets on Sir Krostun’s good side forever by giving him beer. The weeks pass and the elf king bids the adventurers to come before him, the night before they arrive in the capital. They squabble over what proper genuflection to make.

DM: “For your deeds you have earned a boon. Speak it and it shall be done.”
Brunt: +4 weapon… That doesn’t fall under boon.
DM: “Whatever the king will grace us with will surely be a gift to be honored and remembered…”
Normilan: Get outta here.
Brunt: Wasted your chance!
Cruroar: What’re we gonna ask? Can we get several wands… We ask for too much and we’re screwed. We ask for too little and we insult him.
DM: You quickly fall into a huddle to discuss. Which he doesn’t seem to mind, fortunately. “We’re screwed! He’s gonna kill us!” (snickering) “Your daughter’s hand in marriage…”
Cruroar: (near hysteria) Why can’t you just give us the reward!?

Cruroar hits up the king for a mithril chain shirt, then confuses the word “armorer” for “armor” and believes the king is giving him his personal mail. Everyone else frantically tries to not go next.

Normilan: “Your Majesty, I am but a humble mage. I have already gained knowledge from your daughter, as she is one who studies the arcane arts.”
Cruroar: Ask for a Robe of the Magi!
Normilan: “I feel this knowledge was enough of a gift. The only other thing I could ask for is to maybe be seen, racially, as an equal.”

The group is both stunned and impressed by Normilan having the SOLID BRASS ONES necessary to ask this of a gray elf king. The DM calls for a Diplomacy check; he returns an 18.

Normilan: “I know not of my father’s side.”
DM: The king stares at you, stroking his chin, for a very, OMINOUSLY, long time.
Normilan: (sidelong) Get some bracers of protection – Sorry. Go ahead.
DM: “In death you shall be an elf.”
Cruroar: That would be awesome…
DM: After a very, VERY, VERY long time, the king finally speaks. “Very well.”
Normilan: “Thank you, my lord,” I say in Elvish, and bow. HE BRISTLES!
Cruroar: Every time someone speaks Elvish, he grinds his teeth. I almost feel like it’d be better to speak to him in Common just to let that down a bit…
DM: In case you were wondering at the absolute limit you could ask for, he just found it.

The rest of the group has no such lofty considerations; they elect to pump the king for magic items. The DM mocks them, as they wonder when they’ll get their stuff.

Normilan: When it becomes level-appropriate. Meta. Meta.
DM: God damn meta…

Eilnys, who everyone kind of expected to ask for beer, chooses to request a weapon instead (with a few choice words about the quality of elven beer).

Eilnys: “Quality would be better than enchantment…”
Cruroar: ENCHANTMENT!
DM: You were all thinking it…
Tasha: I’d like to buy a sailing ship… a warship, 25,000 gold…
Eilnys: She’s trying to be humble…
Tasha: “Can I have one of your servants?” Brunt’s thinking about it!
DM: You are sent to the land where you will be happiest. GHOERE!
Brunt: “I would only for a weapon worthy of Your Highness’s gratitude.”
DM: A filigreed dagger is yours.

The elf king dismisses them, and on the next morning they reach the capital at last. The welcome is magnificent as the elven delegation is feted; bells ringing, a parade, a city holiday, flowers, everything!

DM: As the procession reaches the great gates of the palace, it comes to a halt. The king himself drops back to speak with you. “This is where we part ways. Go well, heroes.”
Cruroar: “Thank you, Lord – er, Your Grace!” I have a better Diplomacy than this…
Brunt: Bye, elf.
Eilnys: I have only one thing to say. Luckily this is out of character… “DIE, TYRANT!”

Sir Krostun agrees to smooth their way to meeting the priest of prophecy, and the group remembers that the kobolds they met earlier are in the capital as well. They corral a guard to ask directions.

Cruroar: “Excuse me, sir, we’re looking for the… dragon temple?”
DM: “Huh?! What dragon temple?”
Normilan: “Seven heads? Nine heads?”
DM: “Huh?!”
Normilan: “What’s the name of the dragon?
DM: He never told you.
Tasha: “Can you point us to a church or a temple nearby?”
DM: (blankly pointing)
Tasha: “Thank you.” Now we can go ask the head of THAT temple if they know anything about the other ones.

Tasha attempts to refuse to go to the temple of the Pack, but they go in anyway. The priest greets them cheerfully, and Cruroar asks directions…

DM: The priest, after taking a moment to bite down his bile at the fact that you wandered into HIS temple to look for an entirely DIFFERENT temple—p
Tasha: I’m gonna step forward at this point, and just say, “With all due respect…”
Brunt: “This place sucks.”
DM: “Sister.”
Tasha: “With all due respect, Your Holiness, we’re searching because they’re some companions we came across on the road—“
Cruroar: I just told him that!
Tasha: “And I’m not familiar with where they are. I am a true believer of this church and… whoever the god is, I forget.”
DM: “Ah, the Temple of the Great Dragon God. Not very frequented, but they do have a presence. If you want to find that, you must go to the Dark Quarter.”
Normilan: “That sounds like a friendly place.”
Cruroar: Let’s make our way over to there… and watch our backs. Stay together.
DM: I assume you ask the priest which way the Dark Quarter is. You’re heading to the north side of the city, which of course is to the southeast.
Brunt: Ha ha! See, it’s fun!
DM: And you recognize quickly that this is the bad part. The slums, the shanties.
Cruroar: Good thing we’re not particularly rich-looking.
Tasha: I’m gonna disguise myself as a beggar.
DM: All right. You stop in the middle of the street and begin—
Tasha: No, I would like to do this before we leave.
DM: All right, you stop in the temple and begin donning your disguise—
Tasha: I’m using the bathroom or something! I’m taking a little privacy!
Cruroar: Why are you always disguising yourself?!
Tasha: Why NOT? Because I FUCKING CAN, okay?
Eilnys: I’m going to put my peasant clothes on.
Normilan: I’m gonna put my cold weather gear on!

They head into the surprisingly lively Dark Quarter. Merchants, touts, guides, and one guy who attempts to recruit Brunt for arena fighting litter the streets. The latter starts buttering Brunt up to convince him, then foolishly challenges him to brandish his mighty tower shield.

DM: “Brandish it! Brandish it, boy!”
Brunt: Bonk! (making a bashing motion)
DM: Roll your Strength check.
Brunt: Awwww.
DM: You smash him into the wall behind him. Roll your damage!
Tasha: Oh, you killed him! You KILLED HIM!
Cruroar: Thanks a lot.
DM: You feel a scrunch as the man is caught between your shield and the wall! Then abruptly all resistance fades!
Cruroar: Why did you do that?!
Brunt: Do what? I must have been dreaming again! Where are we?
DM: “Arena fighting, my good boy! Let’s see you brandish that shield!”
Normilan: And the cycle continues.
Brunt: Groundhog Day!
DM: You’re trapped in Groundhog Day till you win the love of the elven princess!

Brunt adds this to his quest journal (arena fighting, not Groundhog Day) and they continue onwards. Tasha gets groped, but they ignore this and continue.

DM: Fish are thrown at you! A brawl erupts down the street corner, but you pay no mind, unless you don’t.
Cruroar: You’re just gonna trying to throw these sidequests at us. I guess he isn’t ready for the main storyline.
DM: It’s flavor text, you assholes! FLA-VOR TEXT, you can get involved or not as you see fit.
Cruroar: I’m kind of focused on my mission, so, maybe they’re looking around, but I’m not.
Normilan: I AM looking around.

The temple is actually set inside the city wall. The doorkeeper demands they pass the test of knowledge to enter.

Giles: I’m screwed.
Cruroar: “I will take your test.”
DM: “Very well. What… is this temple?!”
Cruroar: “The temple of the great dragon god.”
DM: “How many heads does the great dragon god have?”
Cruroar: “Seven.”
DM: “What was the name of the pilgrim you met on the road?”
Cruroar: …my character remembers, do you want me to roll and see if my character remembers…
Eilnys: Killik?
DM: Yes! Eilnys remembers. “Ha! You do know Killik. Very nice. Come in, come in.”

They head inside, and meet up with their kobold friends from before. They mention they were unable to see the priest of prophecy, probably because they’re kobolds. Satisfied that the kobolds are okay, the group heads out of the Dark Quarter to get some lodgings at the Tanned Leather...

DM: You step inside, with your mighty half-orc thews, carrying your mighty half-orc weapon, and the tower shield that barely fits through the door, and the inn goes silent. All eyes are on you.
Eilnys: I come in behind him. “Hey, lads.”
Brunt: “So, a dwarf and a half-orc walk into a bar…”
DM: Roll Diplomacy.
Eilnys: What’s the punchline?
Brunt: The punchline is they’re all staring at us!
Giles: Not the most sublte group, are we.
DM: And yet still more subtle than the Adventurers’ Guild group.
Brunt: Me and my thews rolled an 11.
DM: A cricket chirps feebly. It’s there solely for this purpose.
Cruroar: Anyways…
DM: The extremely handsome guy bursts in. Roll Diplomacy.
Cruroar: 31.

Problem solved! The group enters and acquires drink and lodging, then spend the night. On the next morn, the innkeeper hails them.

DM: “You there! You be… uh, ‘Bront’? Brunt, sorry.”
Brunt: “That is my name.”
DM: “A message for you. Came early this morning.”

The scroll is a missive asking to meet with Brunt, and bidding him come to the castle. It is signed ‘Captain Krog Slamhand’.

Brunt: This is the coolest parchment ever! I have the voice in my head of a guy I haven’t met!
DM: It’s a trick. They’re going to arrest you. Everything’s a trick to arrest you, Brunt, you know that by now!
Brunt: Krog Slamhand. I need to get a cool last name… I’ll be Brunt Slamham.
Tasha: Slam ma’am…

They head up to the castle, and present their letter, getting themselves an escort to Captain Slamhand. Cruroar, resolutely trying to keep to the main quest, asks to meet the priest of prophecy.

DM: “Nobody sees the priest of prophecy! Not nobody nohow!”
Cruroar: You did that to yourself.
DM: Yeah, I did. “May I ask the nature of your business?”
Cruroar: “During our journey through the many activities me and my comrades have gone through—“
DM: The journey through the activities.
Tasha: What is it, Cruroar, in telling everybody we come across -- :”I am the lowly guiard who has to stand here and watch people line up…”
DM: Because Iglar isn’t here to tell everybody everything.

The guard hits them up for a bribe, which the characters immediately refuse to give him (after contemplating bribing him with a disguise kit). The disguise kit becomes the new currency standard of the kingdom. That is it for the evening’s adventure, though, as they head off to meet the Captain!