The racist game begins! Last time as you may recall, the characters had entered a dungeon beneath the graveyard of Stonehaven. Now… well, no one’s quite sure what’s happening.

Kurain: Should I be prepared to lose my lunch in horror, or lose my lunch in awe?
Cain: Why can’t we have a sports game that has straight-up religious names for teams? Louisiana Catholics… Boston Jews… the New England Carthaginians…
Davlamar: Because then if that team lost it would reflect badly on their religion.
Cain: Good!
Kurain: “Jews Lose to Christians.” “Sunnis Trump Shiites,” oh that’s not gonna be good.
Cain: No, we should do it, as a big middle finger to the rest of the world.

Kurain’s gender is briefly debated as he moves his mini figure up, singing a song to the tune of the Pink Panther theme.

Kurain: Advance, advance, advance advance advance I move my chaaaaaaaaaaaa-racter forwards. Advance, advance, advance advance advance he’s moving forward, oh shit it’s a box. I can’t get past this stupid box oh look Cain moved it out of the way, Cain moved it out of the way, Cain moved it out of the way, let’s go!

A long silence.<

Davlamar: Something fucking wacky in the air tonight!

He peers around the corner, only to discover a giant set of sealed doors. They immediately beckon up the rogue!

Davlamar: “Ach, I had a nightmare, that I was a useless ninja. I’ll be tryin’ ta check this door for locks and traps.”
Kurain: How could a ninja be useless? They’re so awesome.
Davlamar: WHO ARE YOU?! And what have you done with Kurain?
Cain: Look, Kurain told me yesterday he leveled up to a level 10 douchebag, so get ready…
DM: You find no traps, but what you do notice is the door has completely smooth, almost seamless – you can see where the door opens, but there’s no handle, there’s no knobs. There’s hinges, but the hinges themselves are incredibly bolted in, as if they’re in perfect condition. You’re not gonna break ‘em.
Kurain: I just take the pins out.

A long silence.

Drengar: “Aww fuck.”
DM: (trying to ignore Kurain) Written across the door in common tongue, it says—
Cain: “These pins will not remove.”
Kurain: Despite it being in perfect condition.
DM: “To prove strength of arms, prove strength of mind. Test your might.”
Kurain: I’m telling you, I’m taking the pins out.
DM: You can’t take the pins out.
Kurain: (who clearly doesn’t expect this to work) Give me one good reason.
DM: They are perfectly set. There’s no way to get them out.
Kurain: I have a crowbar, I don’t see what’s stopping me… I have oil, I can oil them…
Davlamar: “Which one of you has the biggest brain? I reckon this means ya have to bash yer head against the door…”

Kurain gives the door a push, and finds the door seems to push back exactly as strong as he pushed against it. Cain starts demanding someone press the door unlock button, and blames Megatron for some reason. They try a few things – Kurain places his hand and removes it, Davlamar walks away from it, then walks backwards into it. Anything they try just leads to pressure pushing back against them equal to what they press against it. Kurain tries to think the door open, but it fails.

Davlamar: Search the opposite wall… opposite of the door itself.
DM: You can roll, but you’ll find nothing.
Davlamar: Well that’s nice…
Cain: Whose idea was it to put Starscream in charge of the Dark Energon? Must have been one of the bad Primes… most lore has all of the Primes being bad except Optimus.

They speak “friend” but don’t enter. Drengar kicks it, which also fails to work.

Kurain: Hey, I have an idea. Let’s attach a stone to the ceiling, dangle it, swing it at the door. It’ll rebound off, perpetually, perpetual motion is invented, we make a fortune and don’t care any more.
Cain: Sweet lord, yes! Done!

Drengar and Davlamar attempt to think the door open, which also fails. Drengar fires an eldritch blast at it, but it just ricochets. Kurain makes a few indicative gestures.

Drengar: “Listen lad, I know you can talk, so please just say what you want.”
Cain: “He’s trying to say that we should all hit the door at the same time with a great deal of force, and perhaps overpower the door.”
Drengar: (an incredibly dirty look for Cain)
Kurain: And that’s why I don’t need to talk.

Lydanna casts the Open spell, but it unsurprisingly fails. They deploy the Team Effort Punch, lining up to do Strength checks; Kurain, in desperation, passes an Orange God Die to Drengar for recharging. Again, the door physically pushes back with the same force.

Drengar: But it’s centered on one of us. One of us goes flying back. And take how much subdual damage…
Kurain: I take out the pinges from the hins…
Drengar: The pinges from the hins?
Kurain: I couldn’t take the pins from the hinges…
Cain: They’re magic.
Drengar: And they’re masterwork.
Cain: And they’re magically delicious. Oh duuuuh. Crowbar.
DM: (clearly getting tired of repeating this exact same phrase over and over) The door, AGAIN, physically pushes back with the exact same amount of force you pushed with.
Davlamar: (blowing)
DM: As you blow on the doors, they slowly creak open, as no physical force was applied.
Davlamar: (howling with laughter) That was a joke!
Kurain: KINETIC ENERGY IS TRANSFERRED IN THE MOTION OF THE AIR!
DM: It’s the same amount!
Cain: Kinetic energy is kinetic energy!
Kurain: YOUR MISUNDERSTANDING OF SCIENCE HAS RUINED THIS FOR ME!
Cain: (whimpering) Kinetic energy, it’s all kinetic energy…
DM: Everything you did involved pushing.
Cain: Physical force is kinetic energy!
Kurain: The answer you wanted was, you wanted a solid object to not touch it. That we will accept! If you want to quickly revise your bullshit answer to a sensible one…

The room beyond has ‘eerie’ lighting, where the room is lighted without any source, like an RPG. Ahead of them are four sarcophagi, steps that lead up to an altar, and the four apparitions they had previously seen in the graveyard above that altar. Given that the DM referenced Skyrim in describing this room, everyone knows exactly what’s going to happen.

Kurain: Everybody crouch and pull out your bows, we’re going to have this resolved quickly…

Kurain steps forward to start whacking the inevitable skeletons. As he does, the alter explodes, and a massive skeleton rises out of the rubble, along with four skeletons from the sarcophagi. Kurain AOOs one, and then the DM calls for initiative.

Cain: An apple a day keeps the doctor away, so if you want to see the doctor, you better stop eating them apples.
Kurain: Doctors to apples, vampires to garlic. “Time for your checkup – BLEH!” (performing the tradition vampire recoil behind a cape) It makes them speak with an accent too, for some reason.

Cain, acting first, attempts to deploy his punching back arrows, but fails by virtue of not being Oliver Queen. Kurain swaps to his quarterstaff and bludgeons one down, while Drengar rolls a mighty 1 damage on his eldritch blast, and Lydanna morningstars one painfully but not lethally. The owlbear skeleton attacks, and the DM starts laughing.

DM: Oh man, that’s… that’s pretty ugly, right there. All right, so his first claw comes swiping in, doing 10 points of damage. The second claw does 11.
Kurain: Why does it get a second claw? It moved.
DM: But as his claws clamp around you, he springs you forward to take a bite out of your shoulder.
Cain: This thing’s awesome, it gets a spring attack?
Kurain: And to think he wanted us to face it at first level.
DM: But he missed. The skeleton warrior that is behind you but is in front of Lydanna took a mighty swing, but it swung where you were standing before the mighty beast grabbed you, completely missing. Davlamar.
Davlamar: (picks up his mini and starts moving it out of the room) “AIIIIIEEEEEE!”
Kurain: Not a bad plan, dude… The person who has this quest isn’t even here any more. There won’t even be epics. It’ll be all shaman loot.

Another skeleton warrior steps to Lydanna and wallops her for 4, while the last one misses Kurain. Cain clobbers a skeleton; the DM describes its damage in terms that don’t at all match up with its failure to die. Kurain annihilates a skeleton with his quarterstaff, while Drengar blasts the owlbear for a good sum.

Kurain: (prophetically) You guys’ll finish it off before it gets another one of you.
Cain: I dunno! Homeboy over here with the three attacks.
Kurain: But he can’t have enough hitpoints to withstand the punishing attacks of four characters.
Lydanna: I just rolled two 20s in a row, so I’m gonna crit that skeleton—
Kurain: Can’t crit a skeleton, Lydanna.
Lydanna: Oh. God damn it, I hate that!

She still kills it, and the owlbear skeleton steps forward. The DM starts rolling many dice.

Kurain: I should have mentioned the cleric pact after this session.
Drengar: Hello new cleric.
DM: As he swings in with his mighty claw you daftly step aside—

A minute or two is lost as the players act out his daft dodge.

DM: You deftly step aside, dodging his swing. Not seeing the other hand come in from that side of you, dealing seven points of damage. In your dazed state—
Cain: Whaddya mean, ‘dazed state’, he’s bleeding on the ground.
DM: Dealing… nine more points of damage.
Kurain: He bursts into a pool of dead. He’s dead.
DM: You’re down?
Kurain: I’m SO dead. I’m -15.
DM: Wow. Okay.
Kurain: What were you expecting! I only had 22 hit points?!
DM: It’s funny, this is a challenge rating 2. If you want to keep this character, I’ll allow him to just be down.
Kurain: You killed him, dude, live with the consequences of your actions.

The energy level has noticeably decreased, although Kurain waxes reminiscently about how badly Aibghalien failed to fight off the other PCs all those years ago. Davlamar takes out a skeleton with his warhammer.

Cain: Pathfinder paladin, go! Six points of damage… with my piercing arrows. Why won’t you let me have boxing glove arrows?!

Cain demands to know why Kurain didn’t walk out the door and drive off.

Davlamar: Who would bury an owlbear here?
Drengar: Idiots.
Lydanna: Sadists.
Davlamar: Racists.

The owlbear hits Davlamar with two attacks, reducing him to exactly 0 hit points. The group starts openly questioning if this is going to be a TPK. Cain attempts to suicide, and actually does a small scrap of roleplaying about how his friend is dead.

Cain: I know the problem. …too many toasters, god damn it…
Lydanna: I’ll move within range and do 7 points of damage.
DM: It is a crushing blow! He’s on his feet but swaggering.
Lydanna: Swaggering?
Davlimar: “I killed a bunch of PCs! I killed a bunch of PCs!”

Conveniently the owlbear misses his two claws. Kurain asks what its to-hit even is; it proves to be only +3, leading the group to exchange baffled looks at its luck. Lydanna takes 9 from its bite.

Drengar: “Let it be finished!” As I crit him for 13—
Kurain: Can’t crit, undead!
Drengar: Oh, right. 7.
DM: You nail him for 7 points of damage. It’s groaning in agony. Still noooot quite down yet…
Lydanna: Nine points of damage!
DM: As you mightily swing your morningstar in desperation! Tears fly from your eyes at… (he can’t keep a straight face any longer)

The group mocks the DM’s flavor text for a while, even as he describes the creature’s end.

DM: That creature is destroyed! And the four archers pop out! Just kidding….
Kurain: The only reason they aren’t popping out now is he realizes what he’s done to us.
Cain: There WAS…

Davlamar attempts to suicide, which Cain angrily prevents so he can claim the XP for the kill, declaring his alignment will be fine because he’s a racist human. The entire group vows to be so racist the game transcriber’s laptop will burst into flames.

DM: I’m sorry I killed off your character.
Kurain: Yeah, sure you are. Sitting over there with a grin like, “Fuck yeah!”
DM: Do you SEE the shit-eating grin on this face? Fuck yeah! So as you survey the carnage around you, thinking of lost allies about how much you don’t care…
Kurain: 240 gold you can take off my corpse and give to my next character.
DM: As Landfill II shows up…
Kurain: I don’t like that…

On quick investigation, the group discovers the DM has screwed up and allowed the skeleton to full-attack after a move, thus substantially increasing its burst. The DM sheepishly apologizes. The four apparitions continue to float at the exploded altar.

Cain: I try to approach the ghosts, and I… uh.. “You’re free. Ghosts. Get out of here.”

Kurain quietly begins preparing to break the game wide open, while the group discovers he isn’t making a cleric despite the earlier vow that whoever dies first has to make a healer,. Instead he’s making an artificer. The four ghosts, meanwhile, smile in relief and merge together.

DM: It looks to you and thanks you. It thanks you for what you’ve done and slowly floats down to the field. It lays its hand over the head of Kurain. Sadly, it—
Kurain: Steals his soul.

The ghost obligingly heals Davlamar, then the rest of them. Cain happily imagines a world where the PCs are all trying to kill each other.

DM: It stops short of Cain, repulsed by him being human.
Kurain: Racism!
Cain: My health is full – oh! Oh! Oh! Did he – he’s repulsed by me>! I whip out my dick. I start pissing on things.
Drengar: Now that’s liquid hate.

The apparition stares into their soul for a bit, in an oddly nondisturbing way, then speaks again.DM: “God has not forgotten what it means to be mortal. Do not forget what it takes to be heavenly.” As it then melts into the stone. The room starts to shake and crumble… Everyone cheers the opportunity to suicide! None of them actually does… The cave-in creates a nice, convenient way out, and they emerge into the world above – discovering they’ve been down there for almost six hours.

Drengar: Man, that door was a pain in the ass.
Davlamar: I lost track of time.
DM: You notice that the sun is starting to set.
Davlamar: “Welp, Kurain had fist watch…”

The demon fog is already emerging, but the walls that surround them have the same runes as those on the circle. The players suggest names for Kurain’s new character, including Niaruk and Cruroar Ultra-Biceps.

Kurain: Biceps Ultra-Biceps.
Davlamar: (collapsing)
Cain: His name? MALvatron.

It gets weird.

Kurain: Ghoere Ooooooze Biceps Ultra-Biceps Wreck-Gar Fitzgeraldtron.
Cain: Biceps Ultra-Biceptsatron has more biceps per biceps than anyone else in the world.

The DM does at last award a little experience (and frantically rolls up loot).

Cain: By the way, Kurain, as your new character was born,, he tool… 37 points of damage.
Kurain: God damn it. Why doesn’t the womb offer DR?
Cain: You were just outside the womb,
Kurain: You mean this isn’t like that thing Normilan’s got, Toughening Transmutation? I tramsute into an actual baby, I don’t get DR for a few moments?

Cain bemoans not getting to be the lone human now that Kurain is dead, while the group attempts to gain extra experience since he can’t earn any.

DM: You writing down loot? 4000 silver…
Cain: 40 gold…
DM: One hammered brass wine cup, worth 10 gold… Does anybody have the ability to detect a magical item?
Drengar: I do, at will.
Cain: But you can only cast it at will, Drengar, there’s no Wills here!
Drengar: Dammit.

Possibly for the sole reason of annoying the transcriber, the group treats the transcriber to PSY’s views on being a gentleman. Kurain cheerfully demands money from the others to make healing items, which pisses them off. IC, this is apparently the first point they realize Arna is missing, somehow.

Cain: “You know, I have a mission to complete, my comrade is dead, I get all the reward for completing it, I don’t know if I’ll survive going into the dwarven kingdom we’re at war with to deliver this bloody letter. Things are not looking good for me. No offense to you others…”
Davlamar: Look on the bright side. Ijust saved a lot of money on me car insurance…
Cain: “Our most humanitarian leader… Hit-Lar…”

The sun rises, and the group heads out into the day once again. A quick Knowledge(geography) role reveals that heading directly west will lead to the dwarven kingdom, while heading south will take them to another human settlement.

Davlamar: “Well why are we still standing here? Let’s go.”
Cain: What’re you talking about? I’m already walking. I can walk and talk at the same time. I have the feat proficiency.
Davlamar: The feat... proficiency…
Cain: That’s right. It’s the human ability to talk and walk at the same time.
Davlamar: “Oh aye. I wouldn’t know about that, me being a dwarf.”
Cain: I’m not sure what your Knowledges are.
DM: Your group still consists of one half-elf, two dwarves, one human.
Drengar: (delightedly) We’re the majority now!
Kurain: Quick! Racist at them!
Cain: You’re all still too short for my jokes.
Davlamar: “Well that can be rectified, lad.”
Cain: “I like my shins…”

The group specifically explains to the DM that they will set up the circles at night; The DM retaliates by telling them one of their circles was stolen by their missing party member, The travel is mostly handwaved… until Drengar, on watch, notices a demon in the middle of the night that is pacing rather than hurling itself at the barrier.

DM: Do you tell Lydanna about your—
Drengar: Yes.
DM: You’re able to make out a little bit more. It is a demon, it’s bigger than all the other, but it’s acting more methodically. Whereas the others are throwing themselves in a bloodlust frenzy, it appears, this one is calm…
Davlamar: It’s just going the Darth Maul outside.
DM: In essence, yes…

Davlamar promptly falls asleep on his watch by rolling a 1 on his Spot check, thus proving that trying to look at things is responsible for narcolepsy. <

Cain: That might work out… I think I’ll do Rapid Shot into Manyshot.
Kurain: And then into Fewshot for some reason.
DM: What’s your character’s name?
Kurain: Cambrian Steele.
Davlamar: What.
Cain: Why can’t you make him Hitler?
DM: Cambrian?
Kurain: Yes.
Drengar: Camembert.
Kurain: No.
DM: Pedobear, gotcha… I swear Kurain picks races and things I’ve never heard of. I didn’t know you could BE an artificer. I’ve never heard of it. Everybody else is kind of cool. Everybody else is like, “I’m a scout.” “I’m a warlock.” “Rogue.” Kurain’s like, “No, artificer. Fuck you, DM. This is what you get for your lack of knowledge.”

Kurain vows his new character will talk slightly more than his old character, while the DM rolls all the 1s out of his dice. The next day dawns, they continue on without debate, and ponder how to introduce Kurain’s character…

DM: Sun’s going down, you set up camp. What’s your order?
Kurain: “I’LL take the first watch!”
DM: “By jove, who are you?”
Kurain: “Why I’m on your side!”
Cain: Landfill #2… “They told me all about you guys, it’s like I know you already!”
Kurain: “In fact I’ve been here the entire time! I was your runes the entire time!”

The group keeps an eye out for the apparition from last night, but the rolling isn’t stellar.

DM: You… drop a deuce, but because it’s dark, you don’t see shit.
Drengar: Whoops. I pooped on the circle.

Lydanna spots it, though! It is larger than a human by half again (but somehow not Large size…) Kurain ponders adopting a Transylvanian accent just to be extra suspicious, while Davlamar gets stared down by the demon just before dawn. The DM cheerfully implies that Davlamar is gay, OOC. Davlamar, believing he fell asleep again, tries to pass the entire incident off as in his mind.

Davlamar: “It was just a bit of wind. And those truffles I ate before bed.”
Drengar: Two very angry fireflies.
DM: Perfectly still.
Davlamar: “That was one COSMIC brownie…”

On the third day as they travel, three dwarven scouts emerge to confront them! Cain swiftly refuses to do any speaking and indicates the dwarf PCs should do all the talking… then introduces himself.

Cain: “I’m from the Messengers’ Guild. I have a message. It’s all I do.”
Kurain: “My name is Fix-It Felix Jr. from the game Fix-It Felix Jr…”
Cain: I played Bubsy 2, I should be allowed to pass…

Cain disgustedly relays word that the human king has declared war on everybody, then starts rolling up a new character. Drengar vouches for Cain, however, as Cain wearily explains their travails thus far.

DM: Why do you feel the need to tell EVERY SINGLE PERSON THE WHOLE STORY EVERY TIME! Every campaign! Every one we come across—
Cain: All right, I won’t say anything then. I’ll just get killed.
DM: Why?
Cain: Because if I don’t I’ll get killed! If you don’t want me to talk, I won’t RP, then! I’ll just sit here and shut up just like Kurain does! If you want me to sit here and shut up, I will!
DM: I just find it funny that every campaign we play, you always tell everybody the whole story…
Cain: Because [Kurain] makes us do it!
Davlamar: It’s true.
Cain: He makes us tell them! He makes us remember. If I don’t tell people I’ll forget. And you won’t tell us! You’ll say, “Oh, looks like you don’t remember what happened before. You don’t remember the key you gave that guy. You won’t remember this, you won’t remember that, oh looks like you forgot that, you managed to forget to put the ring out!” So how do I know that this past offense is not gonna matter? You know what, fuck you dwarves. Take your goddamn king the message. Apparently you want to make me an asshole! I’m gonna pull a DM. I’m gonna pull a DM, I’m gonna kill them, and wear their skin as a disguise. Wear their skin as a disguise and attempt to sneak into the dwarf kingdom. The tallest dwarf, the tallest dwarf!
DM: I love that idea…
Cain: And I go to the king and I hand him the message peacefully, and then I leave. Ripping the mask off – “I was human the whole time! Snidely Whiplash AWAAAAAAY!” “I should have known, no dwarf is above six feet ten!”

A pause.

Davlamar: What?

A long pause.

Cain: Anyways. “I need to give the message to your king. If you do it, I need proof that the king got the message so I can get my money. That’s all I care about. Money. Money can come from small hands, skinny hands, tall hands, short hands, I don’t care. Money’s all I care about.”
Kurain: So, congratulations. You made a world to turn Cain evil.
Cain: I’m going pure neutral now. Fuck it. I don’t care about the bull.
Davlamar: “Our friend is quite a mercenary. I wonder if he really cares about anything.”
Cain: “I only care about money.
DM: “Kinsman, are you SURE you want to vouch for this one?”
Drengar: “He’s proven himself in a fight. Good enough for me.”
DM: “We all know the dwarves can fight well. If you vouch for him, I’ll accept it… though I don’t have to like it.”
Cain: “That’s lovely. Listen, dwarf, I’m trying to care about what you’re saying but I’m having a hard time. Are you gonna let us through, or are you gonna kill me? ‘Cuz I… I’m tired of waiting. And it’s gonna be night soon, the way the GM works. It seems it only takes five minutes of day…”
DM: (laughing) You know what, dude, do you really just hate my game that much?
Cain: No, I love your game! I love your game, it’s just the days go by so fast.
Drengar: You get up, stretch, yawn, it’s starting to set already.
Cain: I love your game, but you criticize me for everything I do, so I’m gonna be an asshole now.
Drengar: The sun rises in the east and sets in the east.
Kurain: In fact, we’re at the Arctic circle…

Cain continues to be a jerk to the dwarf, and somehow this actually succeeds. The dwarf invites him into the village, and the three scouts take up positions around the group to escort them to the village. Cain continues to mouth off, leading the dwarf to ask his kinsmen to shut him up. Cain instead switches to pondering his history with Kurain.

Cain: I didn’t know your name, you never gave it to me. I assume you never told it to me!
Kurain: The Guildmaster told you every time he said, “Cain, Kurain, you’re going on a mission.”
Cain: I thought he would say, “Cain, that other guy who hangs out with you…”
Kurain: Nobody knows how the guildmaster got the name, but there you go.
Cain: I think he just gave it to you. That’s not even your real name. It’s the name the headmaster started calling you.
Drengar: It’s Old Common for “Cain and Other Cain”.
Kurain: That’s perfect. I now accept this as canon.
Cain: I never knew your real name.
Kurain: Ironically, it was also Cain.
DM: As you approach the village.. it’s really not much of a village.
Cain: How much damage to I get from the stones that are thrown at me?
DM: No stones.
Cain: Poop?!
DM: In fact there’s really not much of anything. You start walking in, and… Spot checks.
Kurain: Natural 1. My character misses the group and can’t be introduced…

The DM describes the feebly small village, which the PCs immediately dub Pallet Town. It’s really tiny, unworthy of the name ‘village’. From the non-broken house, a pair of figures keep weapons trained on them.

DM: Coming out of the two-story building is the mayor, which you think is the mayor because he’s the only one dressed in fine clothing—
Cain: He has a long, willowy white beard?!
Drengar: HO HO HO!
Davlamar: “Well hello, Papa Smurf.”
Cain: Is one of the dudes wearing these big glasses? “Papa Smurf says…”

The group collapses into hysterics. The DM gamely soldiers on through all this as the group giggles itself out.

Cain: Sorry…! Okay.
Kurain: Don’t pretend like you’re done, ‘cuz you’re not.
Cain: No I’m not… (giggling furiously again)
DM: He approaches. He walks right past the human.
Cain: The human. I didn’t even know I changed my name to Thehuman till he came along.
DM: He walks right past you, Cain, and he actually walks straight up to Drengar.
Cain: I’m okay with that. I don’t need the attention.

The mayor bluntly tells Drengar that any stunt on Cain’s part will get them all executed. Drengar accepts these terms, to the mayor’s surprise. It turns out the entire party speaks Dwarven, so the mayor’s casual racism is revealed to them all.

DM: “Understand that in order to enter, you have to be blindfolded. We cannot give away where our village is located.”
Davlamar: “Well we followed a sign to get here…”
Cain: There was a sign pointing us in this direction! Down a ways.
Kurain: “THERE WAS! OH CRAP!”
Cain: Haven’t I been here before? ‘Cuz I’m a messenger, why wouldn’t I have been here before?
Kurain: Racism.
DM: Because as a messenger, you come in, you drop off your letters, and you move on.
Cain: So wouldn’t I just give it to them, to give to the king?
DM: You can if you want to…
Cain: If I’ve been to the earth kingdom before, with messengers, I would know how to get to the earth kingdom.
DM: Look, if you want to give it to them, that’s fine.
Cain: I’m just saying, wouldn’t I know how to get here before?
DM: Yes, but it doesn’t necessarily mean that you’ve been there.
Cain: I’m like the worst messenger ever!
Kurain: Technically, I am. I deliver messages very incompetently these days.

To head off controversy, Drengar proposes they simply camp up top for the night, and the dwarves offer them a building to use as shelter. The scouts offers them supplies or whatnot.

DM: “You’re welcome to stay here if you like. I give you the same warning that I give everybody else.”
Kurain: “Don’t drink the water.”
DM: “We’ve had problems with kobolds. They just like to raid us in the night.”
Davlamar: “From where?”
DM: “That is not your concern.”
Davlamar: “It must be close, since ye canna travel by night.”
DM: “If you wish, you’re welcome to come into town. But you chose. I only give you warning.”
Cain: So what we’re in right now is a bunch of buildings behind a wall?
DM: No, what you’re in right now is a tiny-ass gathering of houses. You’re in a two-story house. It was the inn. It’s got basic accommodations.
Cain: That’s what I thought the town was.
DM: The town was the inn, that house, a well in the middle, a burnt out house to the side.
Drengar: There’s probably someplace down underground.
DM: It’s the reason a messenger hasn’t been in their village.
Cain: But you keep confusing me in the sense that we’re in what I think is the town, but then you keep referring to the town that we’re going into!
DM: (totally missing the point) Yeah, but you chose not to go in there.
Cain: But we’re in the town!
DM: You’re in what you think is the town. He said it! He said that there is more town underground, but nobody listened.
Cain: But I thought that was a separate city! I—me! Not understanding! Use a separate term!
DM: And I said you were welcome to come into the town or whatever—
Cain: (angrily hurling down his pencil)
DM: But you said, “No, I’m already in the town!”
Cain: Because you keep saying “in the town”, we’re in the town! Are we going to a different town?!
Drengar: Same town, just underground.

A long pause.

Cain: Yeah, just – just kill my character if you want to.
DM: Fuck, dude, then just leave!
Cain: Why are you blindfolding me?!
DM: Because they don’t want you seeing how to get into their town.
Lydanna: This is like an outpost. They have another town underground and that’s the actual town.
Cain: Great! But if I’m blindfolded—
DM: Then you can’t see how to get in!
Cain: I can hear how to get in! My other senses allow me to do that!
Kurain: They assume that’s going to be inadequate for you to reproduce it. Plus they may spin you around, get you dizzy.
Cain: It seems a lot of silliness…
Kurain: Now Cain, the blindfold to go into the town of the foreign race is a well-established trope of fantasy settings.
DM: Especially for races that don’t trust you.

A very long silence.

DM: Your decision, though, is to stay above-ground.
Cain: My decision was to not go into the town that I thought I was already in.
DM: Your decision was to stay above-ground.
Cain: Yeah, if I went in the ground, surrounded by enemies, above-ground, surrounded by enemies…

Cain and the DM jibe a bit, since the kobold warning only came after they decided to stay above-ground. The group still elects to stay above-ground after all that; Cain starts rolling a new character, despite the fact that he already had stats rolled up from back against the owlbear. They cautiously elect to avoid fires.

DM: “Your choice. Most people find it quite comfortable here.”

A long pause.

Drengar: “Why are you still here?”
Cain: “I thought you left! You keep popping back up!”
Kurain: The dwarves have tunnels drilled through here.
Drengar: That’s not a dwarf, it’s a kobold.

The group argues a bit over how to protect themselves from the inevitable kobold raid during the night.

Drengar: Let’s just set the floor of the inn on fire.
Kurain: I step in through the door, you all shoot me.
Drengar: “Oh hi guys! I’m here with my wands and—“ (miming several arrows striking a body) “Oh man, look at all these potions.”
Kurain: I’ll just do this once a game, constantly roll up artificers, I show up and you all shoot me. I’ll start playing chaotic evil artificers who attack you on sight…
DM: All right. It’s late, I say we call it. I have a little bit more, but since you guys chose not to go into the city I have to tweak a bit.
Cain: Oh no. I’m not going blindfolded someplace and have a bunch of people kill me.
DM: First of all, he already vouched for you, dude, and they accepted his vouching.
Cain: They kept trash-talking me! I’m not about to sit down…
DM: That’s because YOU’RE A HUMAN! They just don’t like you! You also were like, “Fuck you, dwarves!”
Cain: Yeah, because they kept screwing with me!

Cain insists that all it takes is one dwarf deciding to go rogue to take him out while blindfolded, which leads to a debate over just how long they would have been blindfolded. The transcriber mercifully cuts the audio before it gets uglier. (It did.)