DM: The final game of 2013, and it’s all mine. Oh my.
Cruroar: You’re gonna set the standard for the rest of the year. You’re gonna leave a bad taste in our mouth for the rest of the year…
DM: Probably.
Normilan: TPK!

The DM refreshes them on their situation: injured, poisoned, and trapped in the depths of the dwarven mines. The group ponders its options, by which I mean, the football playoff picture, football being historically more interesting than the game…

Cruroar: Do I see any proper ventilation?
DM: Well, you lit the webs on fire and you aren’t smoked out…
Normilan: Oh that’s right, I dropped the flaming sphere on them.
Cruroar: That’d be hilarious. How would you describe that?
Normilan: “Sorry, guys…” I’m the TPK here in this one and I’m not even running the game, fantastic.

The DM harasses them with swarms of moths because they no longer have any resources that can harm a swarm.

DM: I’ll roll this die, if it comes up skull, you all die.
Giles: My rogue doesn’t have enough strength to die right now.

The DM questions where they’re resting. They declare they’ll rest in the fire, and they’ll set the fire up behind a barricade of stone chairs.

DM: There are enough chairs that you can block off the hall pretty effectively. They’re solid stone and heavy to move, so don’t expect Cruroar and Giles to help you.
Normilan: That’s all right. Normilan and Brunt shall do this.
Eilnys: I can help.
Normilan: Normilan and Brunt.
Brunt: Tasha and Eilnys can do this, I’ll supervise.
DM: All right, you quickly set up a wall of chairs, securing yourselves and blockading yourselves in the room with no chance of escape. I mean. Safety.
Normilan: Oh, it’s good to have the DM back at the helm.
Brunt: This DM is a walking Choose Your Own Adventure book. There were those books where the author really hated you, like, “I hate writing for these fucking kids,” so no matter what you chose at a certain point of the story, you either died on that page or the very next page. Or the bad ending. Some of the books, the authors were like, “Yeah, you’re dead. Think about that. Your parents will miss you. You’re dead.”

Every single person attempts to take first watch, although the watch passes uneventfully. Tasha and Cruroar (with his wands) start patching everyone up as best they can, despite the concept of ‘lesser restoration’ being strange and alarming to the cleric. Giles is now only at -6… and he hears something on the other side of the stone chair wall, faint and distant!

Cruroar: I move closer to the stairs and try to hear. Move away so if the chairs were to BLOW AWAY, I’m not in front of them. Like fly into me… I don’t want to be in front of them when they fly away. So I move away from the trajectory of the chairs, closer so I can hear the hallway.
DM: You hear nothing.
Cruroar: Damn my crappy Listen.
Giles: I’m going to do the same, but Move Silently.
Cruroar: Yeah, I was stomping all over the place. “I’M GOING TO THE DOOR!”
DM: As it falls more quiet, you begin to think you hear something after all… You’re convinced it’s chanting. Dark, malefic chanting.

No one else hear this chanting, though no one is willing to discredit Cruroar’s claims after the whole bat-imp incident. Well, almost no one.

Brunt: Well, Cruroar’s crazy, let’s get out of here. What else is new…
Cruroar: I’m gonna go see what it is!
Giles: Giles was offended by that statement, ‘cuz after all, he’s the one who heard the noise first.
Brunt: Well lead the way, Cruroar.
Cruroar: I can’t, there’s chairs in the way.
Brunt: Well move the chairs, Cruroar.
Cruroar: No.
Brunt: And our adventure will end here in this room.
DM: You all stare at each other stubbornly until you die.
Brunt: Tasha continuously makes us food and we live out our lives here in this room.
Cruroar: This is the opening to my adventure, the truth! We stayed in that pit for 100 years.
Brunt: We slowly gain roleplaying experience for 100 years…

The DM cautions that they cannot move the chair quietly, due to its size and weight. Normilan promptly produces a scroll of Grease and greases it up. They hear a door slam in the distance as they move the chair, but the darkvision of those of them who have it does not extend long enough to see the door in question. The conversation takes a baffling turn.

Cruroar: Boobs beat dicks. Thanks, Brunt. But them’s the rules, I guess.

The DM draws this the hell out and labels the map, keenly aware of the last time when the specifics of where the PCs had come from were in question.

Brunt: Back that way is where the water mishap is, right? Heh, Tasha goes over the waterfall. “Just let me go!”
Tasha: “I’m rolling a new characteeeeeeer!”

The DM calls for new Listen checks, and a couple of people hear the echoing sound of marching feet from down the hallway. Or a metronome, possibly, if you’re Brunt. Eilnys and Cruroar creep forward to investigate the hall. Tasha attempts to identify the sound with Knowledge(Arcana).

DM: I assure you, from the echoing quality of those noises there is absolutely nothing in there that would lead you to believe it’s something you could identify with Knowledge(arcane).
Tasha: Knowledge(history)?
Normilan: Knowledge(nobility)!
DM: It’s the rare brush-ducked-footed Chrome noble.
Cruroar: Knowledge(music).
DM: It’s not a metronome.
Brunt: It’s a grandfather clock!

They creep forward as the noises become louder; the footsteps are clearly advancing towards them!

DM: You hear the occasional scrape of metal on stone.
Normilan: It can’t be an iron golem THIS early…
Brunt: I dunno, he probably wants to get back at me for the whole golem episode…
Tasha: It’s possible that whatever it is is wearing armor.
Brunt: Unless it’s just a rust monster with a crowbar stuck in its teeth. Scraping the walls.

As they sit there considering, a figure resolves at the limits of their darkvision: a minotaur! Brandishing a mighty axe! It immediately stops, demonstrating by this that it can see them.

DM: It holds a hand back like this --(making a ‘stop’ gesture) -- short-hafting its axe.
Giles: And I’m still hiding around a corner.
Cruroar: Uh-oh! Looks like we’re going to deal with another Delta Attack!
DM: Two die immediately.
Brunt: Fuck you guys!

The group cracks up.

DM: Finally, something to replace the boat!
Cruroar: Oh don’t worry, that’ll come up again.
Brunt: It’s taken five years, but now I’m you. Fuck you! Oh, enemies that use tactics, that’s a fucking… That’s the gift that keeps on giving!
Tasha: It’s not that they used tactics! Its that their tactics were suicide!
Brunt: They redeployed to advantageous terrain! They rolled shit on the initiative order and you guys hurl out kamehamehas for damage each round!

The minotaur grunts at someone behind it in Giant, and then a smaller, higher voice calls out a hello to the PCs in Common!

Cruroar: Bring out the translator! It’s a well-spoken ogre. He’s wearing a suit and tie, and a monocle. Please tell me he has a monocle!
Tasha: Tasha calls back down the hallway, she yells, “Hello!”
DM: “Be ye friend or foe!”
Tasha: “Friend, I hope!”
DM: “May I kindly ask what all you are doing down here?”

Silence.

Tasha: Yeah, what ARE we doing down here?
Normilan: We came down here to escape the green dragons.
Tasha: Oh yeah! “We are fleeing some green dragons.”
DM: “Oh… dear!”
Tasha: “Yes, tell me about it.”
DM: He speaks in that strange language none of you understand—
Brunt: It’s binary, he’s speaking to the minotaurs’ R2D2.
DM: Out of character, I’ll remind you all we already established that minotaurs speak Giant.
Normilan: Yes. As soon as I get another point of intelligence, I’m getting Giant. And we’ll never meet another minotaur again.

After some discussion, the minotaur very deliberately puts his weapon away. None of the PCs have weapons out, so the NPCs advance slowly forward, at last revealing a gnome behind him!

Cruroar: The minotaur should be carrying the gnome in a little sack on his back.
Giles: He should be wielding the gnome.
Normilan: I’ll just be like, “Zook? Oh, I’m sorry, you all look the same to me.”
DM: RACIST. Good elf!

The gnome offers to help them, in exchange for a favor in return – he’s looking for something, and will not only help them out but will pay them if they assist him!

DM: “My comrades… they’re all right, but they’d rather… well, obviously they’d rather risk you than themselves. But I think this is a fair trade, and I’ll even pay you a fair recompense!”
Tasha: Hey, can we work the minotaurs like Klingons, and be like—
Cruroar: No.
Tasha: What, are they too cowardly to go up there themselves?
Cruroar: No. No. No. No.

The gnome informs them he serves a master named Keyvan – Keyvan Lassarin. Normilan takes note of this as the gnome introduces himself as Brost Borzelli.

Brunt: I’ll shake his hand gingerly so as not to harm the creature… make his voice go even higher. Mattias 2.0…

Brost cautions them not to provoke the people he is about to meet, as they would love to kill them all. As the PCs back up, Brost and the minotaur go open the iron door at the far end of the hallway.

DM: (showing them a picture in the Monster Manual) THESE fearsome foul creatures appear!
Normilan: (shamelessly reading the entry) Grimlocks!
Cruroar: Ogre strip-dancers?! What were you showing me?
DM: A picture. Immediately, they snarl and begin to surge past the minotaur, who throws out his might hands and sweeps them back as they attempt to press past him.
Tasha: (placing several inappropriate minis on the map)
Cruroar: They’re also not skeleton man… or the soldier with the gun.
DM: Brost calls out, “Arkapatang, control your men! He’s on our side!” A harsh language that none of you all recognize –
Normilan: Of course.
DM: Comes out from behind them. The grimlocks slowly settle, their mad frothing attempts to charge past the minotaur have just turned into a determined pushing.
Brunt: They Grimlocks no like adventurers.

They follow into the room, Brunt making Dinobot jokes all the way. Ten grimlocks stare hatred at them with sightless eyes.

Brunt: “Normilan? Do you have any beryllium bologna? I ran out of cesium salami.”
DM: Chokers for you all.

Normilan spots the leader and notes he has shaped soulmelds. Brost and the leader quickly converse, and they agree that no adventurer slaughtering will occur, though Brost and the minotaur must travel between them.

Cruroar: I wish they weren’t called grimlocks, because I can’t envision them any more, I just see a whole bunch of Grimlocks.

Everyone starts talking through their teeth for some reason, then accuses the grimlocks of passing lockjaw on to them,

DM: You all desperately attempt to take refuge in humor.
Normilan: Oh please, you know this is all out of character.
DM: I refuse to interpret it as such.
Tasha: So wait, it’s us, and then the minotaur, and then the grimlocks? But we don’t know where we’re going.
DM: “Ah, but it’s a straight shot down the path!”

The path continues on, descending and turning as it does. They mostly refuse to roleplay, the better to not piss anyone off.

Brunt: “So how does a gnome come to have a minotaur in its service?”
DM: “Oh that’s simple. Gurk kindly provides me with a guard whenever I go to meet our friends here. Keeps them in line.”
Brunt: “Has he any other occupation?”
DM: (misunderstanding who the pronoun referred to) “What, Gurk? Of course, he is chief of the minotaurs!”
Cruroar: Holy shit! Dear god! Please tell me we don’t fight this guy. Guarantee he’s a level 11. We don’t stand a chance.
Brunt: “All minotaurs?”
DM: “Well, the local labyrinth.”
Brunt: “Being their chieftain, he makes all decision concerning the affairs of them, yes?”
DM: “Yes.”
Brunt: “I see.” I’m wondering how to proceed without saying too much…
DM: “So, killing villagers, huh?”
Cruroar: We’ve killed like four minotaurs…
DM: Eilnys has fairly obviously been carrying four minotaur horns at this point, and nothing has been said.
Tasha: Does the minotaur have human ears on a sting around his neck? I’m just looking…

The group reaches the labyrinth entrance and are nearly charged by its minotaur guards before Brost speaks up. They enter into the massive maze of the labyrinth, which is downright three-dimensional. Minotaurs glare at them but do not attack them as they proceed through. Tasha is smited by her god for wishing people a merry Christmas.

Cruroar: We need an escape strategy!
Brunt: Escape strategy is, don’t piss off the minotaurs.
DM: They don’t need to blindfold you for you are effectively lost in the turns.

Tasha contemplates marking the floor or walls with chalk, but no one will acknowledge her efforts. The grimlocks cluster together, looking murderous the whole while.

DM: A powerful minotaur, carrying a greataxe that glows with a cold blue light in the darkness, blocks the party as they approach the door, growling something at Brost in his guttural tongue. Brost responds with a glare and a dismissive gesture. The minotaur growls something back, practically frothing at this point.
Brunt: It’s either us or the grimlocks they don’t like being in here.
Normilan: Probably us.
Cruroar: I think it’s us.
Brunt: “Brost, are we causing any inconvenience.”
DM: He turns his back on the large minotaur, who openly bristles at this insult, to address your question. “Ah, you needn’t worry. Muar here is simply a rival of the chief, and he feels our presence here is demeaning.”
Brunt: “You mean to the chief?”
DM: “I mean to minotaur kind.” “No, gnome, I said you were a cheater. Don’t put words in my mouth.”
Cruroar: We’re back to being in the middle of a civil war!
Tasha: Can we kill the other minotaur? Be like, “Chief, you don’t like this other minotaur? I’m gonna run him through!”
DM: Tasha stabs the guy, right there!
Normilan: Initiative!
Cruroar: I quickly make a disguise out of the many minotaur corpses we have…
DM: Steals two horns from Eilnys… (miming popping them on his head)
Brunt: “So Muar will not seek to bar our way.”
DM: “Oh no. He doesn’t have the authority to do that.”
Brunt: “That glowing axe might be all the authority he needs.”
DM: “Ah, but the chief has a better one.”
Cruroar: A more glowy axe.
Tasha: The chief’s axe glows green!
DM: (growly) “It’s funny how he didn’t have that before you came to us.” “He got his reward, I don’t know what your complaint is.” Muar glares daggers at the gnome, then contemptuously steps aside.
Tasha: I’m gonna whisper to the grimlocks, “That minotaur over there is talking shit about you.”
Cruroar: No, don’t. Don’t! Don’t. Why don’t we have someone watching her?!
DM: Shut up, Iglar.
Normilan: Can I invent duct tape so I can just tape it around her fucking head?
DM: Use reverse Grease. Molasses.
Brunt: Is Brost going to continue leading the way?
DM: He does, but at Eilyns steps past Muar, he holds out a large hand to stop her.
Cruroar: Ha ha ha ha, no… No, no, she’s got all the trophies with minotaurs all OVER her…
Eilnys: (smiling smugly) “They’re from cows. We butcher cows at my place.”

Incredulous silence.

DM: Would you like to roll a Bluff check?
Tasha: 25 on my Bluff… “No, my friend, no no. I come from the same home town as her. My father’s a butcher.”
Brunt: It’s like if someone was wearing a necklace of human skulls, and Tasha was trying to pass it off as monkey skulls.
Muar: He shuts his eyes briefly in exasperation. “I only wish to know for my own information, not because I bear you ill will. If they fell before you they deserve to do so.”
Eilnys: “They fell before me, aye.”
Tasha: “Those cows were delicious.” Stick with the lie!
Cruroar: Don’t lie to him!

They tell Muar where they fought the minotaurs, which seems to infuriate him, though he doesn’t direct it at them. He brushes off explanations, telling them to take it up with the chief.

DM: “If you choose to whet his blade with the blood of your corpses, do so at a dear price.”
Tasha: “I will provide him with a deer, thank you. Good day, sir.”
DM: Tasha openly mouths off to the minotaur.

They step into a spherical central chamber, its surfaces covered in doors. Everyone immediately starts quoting pop culture references as they so desire. A mighty minotaur in full armor rises as they step in, along with two others. Brost quickly explains their presence as everyone sits at the table.

Brunt: There’s ten grimlocks, and three minotaurs, so when this guy gets killed, we point the fingers at the grimlocks…
Normilan: That’s gonna backfire on us later.
Tasha: We just tell them the minotaur horns we have are gifts from the grimlocks!
Cruroar: Oh stop lying!
Tasha: They’ll kill ‘em. In cold blood.

Brost quickly explains that Keyvan Lassarin has been seeking ancient artifacts lost to time. Gurk and Arkapatang have both been conducting searches in their own way. One of these artifacts, a burial shroud called the Shroud of the Father, is nearby, and neither of the two leaders will voluntarily send their men against the spirits that guard it. Normilan rolls out some Knowledge(history) to discover that this shroud was worn by an avatar of a god, ages ago, who was slain by heroes that then claimed the cloak. It went through the elven house Lassarin but was lost. Brunt openly calls it a Deathly Hallow, though Brost explains it has a connection with the planes. If they retrieve it, they will receive ample recompense.

Brunt: Brunt’s not going to speak up, but Brunt’s player is like, “hmm, he keeps throwing terms around like ‘ample recompense’ without actually naming figures.”
DM: You’ll get more than you ever DREAMED. You’ll get exactly—
DM and Brunt: What’s coming to you.
DM: He’s not saying any of that.

Brost in facts offers them 500 gold a person, and naturally release from the mountain since they need to leave. Gurk and Arkapatang both approve, since it sacrifices no one.

Tasha: That’s Gurk the Jerk!
Brunt: No no, the other one, that… Ramalamapalan…
DM: Arkapatang?
Brunt: Arkapatang.
Cruroar: Arkapatang!
Normilan: Archipelago?
Brunt: Ramalamadingdong.
Cruroar: This guy’s name, I’ve been giggling every time you say it.

They accept this task, more out of a sense that they have no choice… Brunt tries to hit up Brost for an extra grand to get past the Gatekeeper.

DM: Roll Diplomacy! …or Intimidate.
Normilan: “Listen, you little bastard!”
Cruroar: “Listen you Brost person, I don’t care about this minotaurs that can kill me or these grimlocks that can kill me, you’re gonna give me more money!”

Brost politely defers his request with a better Diplomacy roll. The players accept this with good grace and cheer.

Cruroar: You seem happy that you’re only getting 500 gold now. You like the idea. You feel like you’re getting overpaid.
Tasha: In fact you feel like you’re ripping him off!
Cruroar: In fact you offer to return some of it!
DM: He does a good job selling what he pays, in other words.
Cruroar: He’s a car dealership. You’re shaking his hand, you’ve bought a shitty car, and somehow you’re happy.
Brunt: This is us going out of our way on our errand, even though they’re helping us out by getting us out of the cave…
DM: It’s sorta like Fallout, where you start off on the main quest, and like forty quests later, you’re like, “Oh yeah, that thing.”where you start off on the main quest, and like forty quests later, you’re like, “Oh yeah, that thing.”

A minotaur guard gets volunteered to escort them to the instance. Cruroar immediately starts assigning marching order.

Brunt: We’re doing them a favor, they’re not going to kill us.
Cruroar: THEY might know. The minotaurs I don’t think care. We’ll go up to the entrance… “Whoops, my sword started swinging and taking off human heads.”
DM: What?!
Cruroar: “Some ants came and killed the weak people, sorry.”

Muar shoves their escort out of the way, literally, although Cruroar insists repeatedly it’s Arkapatang for no apparent reason. Muar begins leading them out instead.

DM: At a propitious time he glances around, then in a low voice says, “Know the raids upon human towns began when Gurk ascended to the position of High Chief. He does this in service of the one Brost serves. They care nothing for what he does, however they should return the items he seeks. He asks them not to kill, but does nothing to enforce that. It is minotaur nature to raid, I make no secret of that. We will gladly slay any of you whose blood whets our weapons or our horns. But you have proven by your own deeds that this is only dangerous for our people. I offer this simply as an interesting tidbit of knowledge. It might further interest you to know that if another were to rise to the position, the raids would stop.”
Normilan: “Wink. Wink.”
DM: He rolled badly on his Bluff.
Cruroar: (Starscream voice) “If only Megatron were out of the way the Decepticons would stop harassing the Autobots!”
Normilan: You almost sound like the Joker.
Cruroar: “Hey, kiddies! Let’s get Bats out of the picture.”

It goes on like this. Cruroar shakes his head at how the civil war HAD to come into the picture. They wonder how the hell they’re supposed to deal with a minotaur chief. The sun pains them as they reach the exit, and Brunt proposes they use Iron Heart Surge to banish it forever.

Brunt: “Muar, a moment. Brost insinuated that your weapon was given as recompense for services rendered.”
DM: “I EARNED my weapon. You are thinking of the chief’s. His armor and blade came as payment, not earned in battle but earned with the blood of minotaurs beneath him. It is no way for a chief to act.”
Brunt: “Is not your seeking to replace him the very same strategy.”
Muar: “Mine was not earned by sending minotaurs out to raid to seek some ITEM at the behest of some ELF. I earned mine in battle! I ripped it from the corpse of one who could no longer wield it properly when his heart’s blood spilled from my horns down across my head and I licked it from my jaw! THEN I claimed it from his hands! That is how I earned MY weapon!”
Tasha: “Okay, thank you.”
Normilan: He goes into a berserker rage. Thank you, Tasha.
DM: He does not attack Tasha, SOMEHOW.
Brunt: “How much support does your challenge have behind it”
DM: “It does not matter, The title goes to the strongest. Two enter. One leaves. All will serve who do not bear challenge, and all who challenge will either fall or win, and the processes repeats itself.

The PCs, confused, have no idea what Muar is asking, and the minotaur openly laughs at their idea of challenging Gurk. Muar indicates that he considers Gurk’s weapons and armor dishonorable. Giles refuses to even consider trying to steal the stuff, but Cruroar openly rants about how no matter how badly Giles performs, he’s still better than Iglar. Muar also points out that the challenge must be accepted immediately no matter the chief’s condition.

Cruroar: Has he answered what our part in this is, yet?
Brunt: He wants us to get Megatron’s fusion cannon away from him.l
Cruroar: Okay, so take his magic items away—
DM: Or you could also beat the shit out of him a little! God damn, I gotta spell this fucking out for you guys. “Oh, he’s giving me all this information, I ain’t listening, tell me what I’m doing,” god-damn. Cruroar! Roll the d20, I’ll tell you what happened!”
Brunt: Well he spouts off a bunch about Klingon honor in one minute—
Tasha: I got a 7!
Brunt: --and in the next is like, hey soften him up for me, because I’m so much better than he is. He’s not making a lot of sense to my half-orc ears.
Cruroar: Yeah really. What’s gonna happen, we come back, we take the items, “Oh, you want to discuss some more?” And we go back to the middle of the labyrinth, do battle with one heft-up minotaur, plus 20 others at the same level we fought last time. We barely took on two, let alone one super one and twenty others….
Giles: That’s a good way of challenging them, it’s also a good way of saying ‘I don’t like this campaign any more’, because you’re gonna die quickly.
Brunt: Any time we all want to die, we’ve got Tasha right here.
Tasha: Just let Tasha RP the way she wants!

Normilan suggests they get Gurk a rust monster pet, while Brunt grumbles that if he could take out the chief, he’d become the new chief himself. Muar tells them how to find their destination, by following a stream into the mountain. Normilan suggests they deliberately misunderstand and go the other direction. The chasm where the spirits dwell lies behind a waterfall that strikes down the unworthy.

Cruroar: So there’s a lady in the lake.
Brunt: No, there’s water elementals.
Cruroar: Again? Crap.
Tasha: Dude, he loves water elementals. The DM loves water elementals.

The DM does a quick ration audit, Tasha has no food at all and immediately starts attempting to cast Purify Food on random items she finds on the ground, such as rocks at poison mushrooms. Someone loans her rations. The group finds the stream Muar directed them to find, then pause and honk at each other for some reason. They head into the hills, following the stream, and find a waterfall pouring down a hundred and fifty feet from a cliff face. Cruroar carefully puts a foot into the pond, and discovers it to be merely cold.

Brunt: What about the cliff face? How difficult to scale is it?
Cruroar: My minus-1 to Strength says it’s very difficult.
Brunt: I just wondered if it might be possible to swing into the cave…

Tasha prods the waterfall with a stick, while Normilan shrugs and attempts to walk through the waterfall. He promptly botches the save, takes 7 points of damage, and is flung backwards into the pond. Seeing this, Eilnys decides it’s a brilliant idea and heads on in herself, rolling much better on the save. She eats 3 points of damage but pushes through the waterfall. Cruroar, watching this, sees sparks crackling around her armor. He detects no magic, however – it might be some sort of alchemy.

Tasha: I’m gonna take off my armor.
DM: Okay. Tasha strips.
Cruroar: Now’s not a time for nudity, Tasha.
Tasha: I have a winter blanket, so I’m gonna wrap my armor up inside the winter blanket, and now I’m going to try and walk through.
DM: Reflex saving throw!
Normilan: I don’t have any armor on…
Brunt: Didn’t help Normilan.
Tasha: (a pause) Well damn it, Normilan! Um, fail, unless an 8 helps me….
Cruroar: I continue to take notes.
Brunt: Tasha, didn’t you listen? Only the penitent man may pass.

Eilnys searches for a switch on her side, and rolls a 15. No one believes this of her.

Eilnys: Sorry, guys!
Normilan: Well, you better come back out.
Eilnys: Hell no.
Normilan: Damn.
DM: You’re an asshole.

Brunt brunts his way through, and he and Eilnys consider ways to haul people through the waterfall with rope and strength. He does, however, roll much better on his Search check than Eilnys, and locates a switch on the side of the wall. Pressing it causes a slab to extend outwards from the cliff, allowing them to walk beneath it without being shocked. The cavern beyond is dark, cold, and foggy, so Tasha casts Light on a wet torch. Giles takes point, creeping quietly forward as they plunge deep into the mountain.

DM: The sense of oppression becomes overwhelming. The mist hangs heavy down here, it seems to grow thicker with every step you take.
Normilan and Tasha: (singing) “Every step you ta—“ (pausing and looking at each other uncomfortably)
DM: Refusing to acknowledge the gravity of the situation, you joke your way downwards.
Normilan: Gotta keep the mood light!
DM: (whispering) “Intruders…” “Why are they here…” “What have they come for…” “Only one is of the people…” “Only one is of the people…”
Brunt: After you, Normilan.
DM: “Why are they here?” “They cannot pass.” “Their wisdom is worthless.” “They will fail.” ‘The knowledge eludes them.”
Normilan: Are these Common voices?
DM: Yes. Abruptly you step into a massive open chamber. Like a log has been thrown on a fire, your torch blazes upwards. It reveals a plaque, great and massive, facing a cliff. On the other side of the chasm you can see about forty feet across, the path continues but there is no way over.

They examine the plaque, which is written in dwarven. The DM starts drawing on the mat.

Cruroar: Oh no, you gonna write it on the table, make us translate again?
Brunt: “Alone one will stand, blade and staff in hand…”
DM: ONE prophecy, I gives you…
Brunt: It reads, “Continue to act as normal until you have a chance to cast the biggest dick-move spell on your allies you have.”

Brunt continues to read notes from previous campaigns as the DM scrawls out a puzzle involving drawn squares and ratios. Normilan declares this boring, but the rest of the group cheers the lack of wordplay. The challenge appears to be producing another box by depressing stone squares in a grid that follows the pattern.

Brunt: This is our punishment for the riddling game.
DM: No lie, this is a puzzle I’ve had in mind for years, and I’ll tell you why that is. It’s because every time I go to the bathroom, I’m staring down at the tile floor. And thinking.
Normilan: I like the reasoning. That’s fantastic.
Cruroar: Normilan, I have to go to the bathroom.
Brunt: Sitting on the can, staring at the floor, having a Sherlock moment.
Cruroar: I’ve been at work a few times, just staring at the tiles… counting them, making patterns out of the floor…
DM: Yup… yup.

Cruroar, trying to figure out the puzzle, prods the writing only to have the DM call for a Search check. He discovers that the “0” on a ratio rolls, and with a spin he switches it to 2. The ratios are now “8:1” for a 3x3 square with a hollow center, “12:4” for a 4x4 square with a hollow center, and “8:5” for the pattern they are attempting to create. Well aware that some trickery is afoot here, they test various interpretations of what the ratios might mean. Cruroar solves the equation by making a diagonal box, which encloses five squares with eight.

DM: As you touch the final depression on here you hear a great rumbling from the chasm, and from the depths of it a bridge rises up to span the two halves.
Cruroar: Number puzzles! I’m good at those!
Giles: Horray! (sic)

The DM waits for everyone to come back, because literally everyone wandered off except Cruroar. This takes a while. The DM angrily vows to make everyone solve their own puzzles to get across. On the other side, the tunnel continues deeper into the mountain.

DM: (whispering) “They passed.” “Shall we let them through?” “We must not let them through.” “We shall let them through.” “We must not them through.” The mist closes around you.
Brunt: (whispering) “Do not let us through…” Let them do their worst, and we’ll prove ourselves worthy.
DM: Who is in the front?
Brunt: (confrontationally) Brunt. (a pause) No wait… I couldn’t pass up the opportunity… What’s my save?
DM: Abruptly out of the mist in front of you, a mighty stone wall coalesces. You stop inches before you ram your face straight into it.
Cruroar: It’s a heat-seeking wall.
Normilan: I choose to disbelieve this wall!
DM: Roll a Will save.
Normilan: God damn it.

Normilan nevertheless passes his save and disbelieves the wall. As soon as he announces it to the others, the wall fades away.

Brunt: Okay, I’ll continue ramming my face forwards.

They step into a cavernous chamber, mist swirling around them. A great pool of water stretches before them, and they can see a tattered cloth floating on a stake on an island in its center.

Tasha: Can I cast Purify Water?!
DM: Yes!
Tasha: …really?
DM: Yes.
Cruroar: Lets you purify two cubic feet of water per level.
Normilan: How much water, exactly…?
DM: It’s a hugeass lake.
Cruroar: I look for some stones and kind of throw it in a few spots.
Brunt: If it was Voldemort’s fake locket over there, we could just find a chain…
DM: Yeah, that IS why I couldn’t fill the lake with the undead. You guys would be all, “Ripoff!” “Cheap!”

The water ripples viscuously and thickly. Tasha does cast Purify Water, fairly pointlessly, but they take this as a victory because it counted as water and this is information. Cruroar, with an alchemy check, believes the water is coated with oil.

Tasha: We could set it on fire. Make our problems worse.
Giles: Let’s set it on fire while we’re in a cave.
Tasha: Tasha’s gonna brave it! Tasha’s gonna strip down to her armor and swim.
Cruroar: You sure do like to get naked a lot.
Tasha: I DO!
Brunt: Don’t go in there.
Cruroar: I wouldn’t suggest it. It’ll get all in your lady business.
Tasha: Rollllll a new character.
DM: Your Wisdom is WHAT and you’re doing this? “I’ll drink it away!”

They ponder trying to lasso their way across, but suffer from lack of lassooin’ options on the far side. Giles searches the shore, while Cruroar tries to send his raven into the mist. Giles finds torches, ancient but showing signs of use! Brunt produces his waterlogged torch and lobs it into the water, then pulls it back. It’s gross. Tasha continues to beg.

Tasha: Can I PLEASE just toss a vial of alchemist’s fire in there?
Brunt: No. Not yet.
Cruroar: We haven’t gotten to that part of the solution yet.
Normilan: We’re exhausting everything else before we resort to burning it.
Brunt: Does anyone else have a crowbar?
Tasha and Normilan: Yes.
Brunt: I’m gonna tie my crowbar to the rope…

Brunt tests depth in this fashion, and gets ten feet or so out where he’s flung it. Cruroar angrily predicts tar elementals. After debating the potential use of summoned animals to pluck the shroud from its hangings, they give up and hurl a lit torch in.

DM: All right. You throw the torch in.
Cruroar: Look, he’s covering his face! We’re dead! We’re dead.
DM: As much as I hate to reward Tasha, that was the correct answer. In an apocalyptic wall of flame, the entire lake goes up in a brilliant orange-red glow, and the heat from this hits you like a physical force.
Normilan: Okay… how much damage from the backdraft?
DM: None at the moment.
Cruroar: Backing up!
DM: Stretching in front of you, you see a path where the flames are going under an invisible barrier, ten feet wide, straight to the island.

They sprint across the path quickly, only to discover that the path is in fact a wall-of-force-style effect… meaning it’s impossibly smooth and everyone who took off has to roll Reflex saves. Normilan rolls a natural 20, which not only saves him, but allows him to seize Tasha as she goes sliding. Everyone takes a lone point of damage from the heat.

DM: Brunt, the rope and torch that you soaked in the oil burst into flame.
Normilan: Toss it toss it toss it!
DM: You take two points of damage from the fire.
Tasha: What about his crowbar?
DM: The oil around it burst into flame, burned out, that was the end of it. You all see the pack smoking as he heaves it open and the flaming items spill out.

As they reach the item, two shrouded figures face them, one in deep grey and one in pitch black, ten feet tall.

Cruroar: Oh, they’re not Yoda and Obi-Won.
Tasha: Can Tasha pleasantly say, “Hello!”?
DM: (as the word spikes feedback through the speakers) No, apparently not. “Why do you seek it?” “Why do you seek it?”
Brunt: “Why didn’t you ask us this before?”
Cruroar: “We seek it for a quest.”
DM: “What quest?” “What quest?”
Cruroar: “The quest given to us from the gnome?”
DM: “What gnome?”
Brunt and DM: “What gnome?”
Cruroar: “The gnome—“
Normilan: (verbally shoving Cruroar aside) “We wish to return it to the House of Lassarin.”
Tasha: “So… what does this cloak do?”
Cruroar: “Who’s the king… the king they’re talking about? What was his name?”
Brunt: You remind me of an elf.
Normilan: An elf?
Brunt: An elf with the power.
DM: What power?
Brunt: The power of voodoo.
DM: Voodoo?
Brunt: You do.
DM: Who do?
Brunt: Remind me of an elf!
Normilan: “House Lassarin, those who owned it before the dwarves.”
DM: “Which?” “Which?”
Normilan: Who?
DM: WHO is your master?!
Brunt: OBEY!
Tasha: “I don’t know, I’m just trying to do this for the money!”
Normilan: “Which Lassarin? Keyvan.”
DM: At this, the figure of pitch black fades away.
Tasha: “So what exactly does this cloak do?”
DM: “I will not stop you…”
Tasha: “Thanks. So what exactly does this cloak do?”
Brunt: This is the part where we take it!
Normilan: I walk over to the cloth… collapse from heat exhaustion…
DM: “It… connects.”
Tasha: “Connects what?”
Normilan: “The planes of existence.”
DM: “Wisely speaks he….”

Normilan picks it up, only to find his arm beginning to grow numb. They wrap it up in a blanket, while the DM gapes that Tasha didn’t attempt to put it on. The spirit lingers, but it only offers them a generic warning. They interrogate the spirit for a bit, trying to figure out why it’s still hanging around; it speaks of a ball, a spear, an orb, and all the items have a connection to the beyond. The transcriber bemoans the whispering ghost… accurately, as it proves.

Brunt: This ghost, is he floating in the air?
Cruroar: And he’s TEN FEET TALL!
Normilan: …Zemus!
DM: …yeah, that is kind of the image, to be honest with you. Combine that and Diablo angel.
Tasha: “Did you have a name?”
DM: “I know not…”
Cruroar: I have a feeling this ghost is just gonna follow us around. “I stay with the cloak.”

They head out, Brunt charging face-first into the fire, but the icy-cold presence of the spirit prevents fire damage. Tasha does openly try to recruit the spirit.

Tasha: “It’d be kind of cool to have a spirit floating around with us!”
DM: “No… you said I wasn’t your friend. So long, suckers!”
Cruroar: Dispel force barrier. “Aaaah! Aaaah!”
Brunt: “Fight for us, and I will hold your oath fulfilled!”
DM: “Wrong mythos…”
Brunt: 20 on my Bluff check!
DM: “I don’t remember this but you sound convincing…”

They step off the bridge, and the spirit disappears as the flame dies. Tasha immediately proposes they slip the gnome a fake cloak. This being the end of the game, the players debate what they will do with the cloak and their quest, next time…