Brunt: Spindlethrift! Hunnerd gold! The DM hates Brunt!
DM: Nobody hates Brunt! I gave you the most of everything!
Brunt: This campaign has lovely titles. I just needed to add to the list.

The game opens after a six-month IC time skip. The DM has distributed packets to each player indicating what has happened in the meantime, and also let them draw rumors at random.

Brunt: (referencing the exploits of an NPC in his blurb) Is she called the Sixth Army because her name is ‘Airmee’?
DM: No. DID YOU READ WHAT SHE DID!? THAT’S why she’s called the Sixth Army!
|Brunt: But now we’ll never get the XP for it.

Most if not all of the PCs are invited or supposed to appear at festivities, two days off. The DM explicitly tells them they have a day to do stuff.

Brunt: I told myself I wasn’t going to do this, but I’m asking you anyway.
DM: Uh-oh.
Brunt: You’re familiar with the prestige class… I’ve forgotten already. Primeval.
DM: Not off the top of my head.
Brunt: I just wanted your opinion on it. Because I really want to roll one. Badly.

Eilnys reports that her rumor indicates that Prince Verashir, the younger son of the king, threw a fit over not getting a sword of his one at the upcoming ceremony for his brother’s coming-of-age.

Cruroar: Looking at his name, Maximiano, I just stopped reading at Maxim, ‘cuz all I could think of is the main character from…
DM: Lufia?
Cruroar: Yeah, and I was like, what? He has RED hair, you son of a bitch! Oh wait a minute, never mine.
DM: Yeah, there were more letters in there.
Cruroar: A lot more.
Brunt: What is it --?! Everything in the king’s guard is about who’s banging who! That’s all they seem to care about! Oh, there’s a new elven guard, she must have been banging Slamhand at some point. What the hell is that, DM?
DM: (just laughing his ass off)
Cruroar: I have to agree with the DM on this…
Tasha: Tasha is VERY interested in those rumors.
Eilnys: Tasha’s probably the cause of most of those rumors.
Cruroar: Any business is that bad.

The players talk… mostly out of character for a bit, as they absorb the contents of the information sent at them. The DM notices Brunt shooting him a look.

DM: I don’t know what rumors you have, so glaring at me for the rumors is gonna get you nothing!
Brunt: That wasn’t – how was that glaring? It was concern!
Cruroar: I heard the rumor that the demon-paver is coming through town! Choo choo! One of the rumors I thought was kind of weird, and pointless.
Brunt: This rumor is, “The tarrasque is around!”
DM: They’re just rumors. This isn’t a Final Fantasy game where everything everyone says is automatically true.
Cruroar: This looks more like a fact that a rumor.
Eilnys: Did we GO through Brackenridge?
DM: No.
Eilnys: I have a rumor that says an angel appeared in Brackenridge and killed them all.
Brunt: He hasn’t mentioned us being in it, because he always names his towns, even if we don’t ask.

Normilan tries to figure out why people might want to replace Zook as court wizard; the DM replies that Zook is better with illusions, which means he isn’t as useful for direct offense and overt magical acts. Cruroar gets confused and believes he’s a judge at a sword competition.

DM: The event that’s coming up is a very time-honored one in the kingdom. The prince, upon reaching the age when he is legally allowed to take the throne, that being sixteen, is given the official blade, the Heir’s Blade, which he then carries as a symbol of his position and authority. Usually going along with that, the king – the king has the official King’s Blade, which is of course a magic item, but he rarely uses it. King Maximiano is not much of a fighter.
Brunt: Got a great cool name though.
DM: But if he were to deploy he probably wouldn’t be using the official king’s blade, because it’s more of a symbol to the kingdom than an actual weapon of war. So during this contest he’ll select the finest of the swords that is presented to him to be his blade in the next battle he’ll go into, and other swords he judges and gives out to people he feels deserve a reward, generals perhaps.

Tasha explains a little of what she’d decided had happened to her character during the timeskip – an insane drunken bender and orgy that ended up in jail time and repentance. She has changed her alignment to Lawful Good as a result of this experience, which no one believes is going to last. Brunt begins questioning what the hell the Seven Clans Under One Star is, and finds out it’s the country’s western neighbor.

Brunt: Ha ha ha! It’s the Fist of the North Star! “Is that supposed to hurt?” “You are already dead.”

Normilan inquires of a friendly chamberlain as well, and discovers that the country had fallen into internal strife when the old mage-king died, but now a new one has arisen to unite the clans again and the country is making warlike noises. Normilan’s also heard information about Judge Nicotera, the one who seems to be complicit in getting aasimars locked up!

Normilan: “And what about Judge Nicotera?”
DM: “What about him?”
Brunt: This guy is awesome!
Normilan: “Is he having… are things at home all right?”
DM: (slyly) “Pay no attention to the rumors that he’s had a falling-out with his mistress.”
Normilan: “They’re baseless?”
DM: (slyly) “MOST baseless.”
Normilan: (slyly) “I see.” … should I grease his palm or something?
DM: Roll a Bluff check.
Normilan: Oh I don’t have Bluff! Oh god… natural 20.
DM: He also rolled a natural 20! You understand perfectly that he’s attempting to communicate with you that yes, this is exactly what happened.

Normilan dabbles in politics for a while, still concerned about the threat to Zook’s position and curious about the judge. Elsewhere, it gets worse.

Cruroar: He changed the G for gold to a C, so now you have 50,000 copper.
DM: I changed the G to the C in the wrong place. Your patron god is now Carl Clittercold.
Eilnys: OH MY GOD!

Brunt decides to go investigate the Glass Fountain! First he needs to figure out what and where it is, and rolls a quick Knowledge(local) to do so. It’s a pool older than the castle it shares a hill with, which holds the curious glass fountain that it’s named for. Brunt heads that way!

DM: You see that there is a crude fencework set up around outside it now, and standing outside of it are a couple of very bored-looking Blades.
Brunt: (dirty, dirty look)
DM: (laughing his ass off)
Brunt: Well you said Blades, and it’s like… of course this – oh boy.
Normilan: Shatter the fountains, make a run for it!
Brunt: No!

Brunt sees curious globes and panels of crystal set around the lake. The guard hail him as he approach and inquire of his business, informing him that rumors of mysterious disappearances led to a chancellor closing the area. They’re all cordial, and so Brunt leaves.

Brunt: I’ll make a Listen check when they get far enough away that I think they’re going to start talking about me. 17.
DM: “Really? You just went out and told him that?” “It was nothing he couldn’t have found out anyway.”

Cruroar tries to figure out if his girlfriend has a character sheet, while Eilnys worries about the well-being of her master’s elven rival. She strikes up a competition with the girl behind the counter of the shop, trying to figure out why.

DM: Roll a Diplomacy check.
Eilnys: Eilnys, Diplomacy? Ha.
DM: Roll a natural 1. You grab her by the throat and DEMAND to know what she means! Brunt, you see guards racing down the streets to stop a disturbance in the merchant’s quarter!
Eilnys: I got a 16.
DM: “You didn’t hear it from me, but there’s trouble at home.”
Eilnys: “He in trouble?”
DM: “It’s not him, it’s his family.”
Eilnys: “Does he need money or something?”
DM: “No, it’s just that there’s been no word from the elven lands for the long time. There’s some sort of trouble and he hasn’t heard from them.

Cruroar tells his aasimar friend Tisiphox of his adventures in the southwest, since for some reason he’s found himself labeled with the title of Dragon Slayer in bard tales. Although he gets a bit confused…

Cruroar: “A red dragon and his horde of…”
Brunt: Bugbears.
Cruroar: “Bugbears stopped us to get our treasure.”
DM: They were orcs for that one. Bugbears work for the Gatekeeper. And the gnolls worked for the green dragons.
Normilan: Racist!

The other players mock Cruroar for telling the whole story, and accuse Tasha of being the one who spread the rumors about him as Dragon Slayer. The players continue to chase plot threads and slowly come together with the crumbs of information. Zook tells Normilan that the elves are having internal troubles and have gone silent!

Cruroar: (gasping)
Brunt: What’s-his-name.
Normilan: Keyvan.
Cruroar: We caused this! It’s our fault!
Brunt: That’s because we’re the PCs. The whole game revolves around us.
Cruroar: We are the center of the world!
DM: I’d like to point out that two hanging plotlines got taken care of in your story there! That weren’t taken care of by you!
Brunt: But they were taken care of BECAUSE of me! (pause) And I should get experience for that.
DM: Nice try.

The DM finally rules that they’re discussing this information around the dinner table! Cruroar cheerfully questions Brunt about a rumor he heard about how the Blades’ captain is a shoo-in for the promotion that she and Slamhand are competing for.

Brunt: I’ll have to talk to the Captain about that. I need him to get promoted! So that I can get promoted!
DM: Nice!
Cruroar: “Also you guys might want to be careful about Wiltram the butcher’s meats. They’re not exactly what they say.”
Normilan: (in growing alarm and horror) “Where do we get our meat from?”
Cruroar: “I definitely did not do the shopping for this… his pork, or should I say cat… and his beef, dog…
Tasha: “Normilan?” (showing Normilan her rumor slips) “Have either of these—“
DM: ASK HIM ABOUT IT! Don’t hand him slips of paper that don’t actually exist! Use your WORDS!
Tasha: Well I’m trying to talk to him in private.
Normilan: At the dinner table.
Tasha: Aaaah… okay.
Brunt: Use your woooords!
Tasha: Tasha comes walking in. “I’m sorry about my absence! Here’s two months of rent!”
Normilan: “Cruroar, I need to take a moment to speak with your boss.”
Brunt: “I’d like to take a moment to speak to your boss… about THIS!” (brandishing a rumor slip)
DM: You wrote it down? Aren’t you illiterate?
Brunt: NO! I’m not a barbarian! I specialize in writing!
Cruroar: Your character’s like this big dude, he’s got these really tiny glasses he puts on.
Brunt: Yeah, he’s Hank McCoy! Except not smart!
Tasha: At the dinner table, I’d like to ask if anybody’s heard of the Seven Clans Under One Star…
Normilan: “I was speaking on that amongst the court members. They’re making a lot of unwarranted movement. That’s why we’re sending our armies over there.”
Tasha: “Would they happen to be going near Brackenridge?”
Eilnys: “Brackenridge? Didn’t that town get destroyed by an angel?”
Brunt: “What?! An angel!”
Eilnys: “I heard that Brackenridge got destroyed by an angel because the entire town was EVIL.”
Brunt: “Nonsense. Rumors, all.”
Normilan: Why do I keep eating this questionable meat?!
Tasha: “I heard that it was possible that it was a demon. It’s hard to believe that an entire village… maybe we should investigate.”
Brunt: (to Normilan) Just polish a mug instead. They’re mug-scrubbers!
Normilan: Lousy mug-scrubber!
Cruroar: Our mugs are made of cat bone. Our utensils are made of cat bone.
DM: All your drinking cups are minotaur horns, we all know that!
Tasha: I have a question for the DM though. The city of Brackenridge, where is it?
DM: It’s to the south.
Tasha: No, I mean north, south – it’s to the south?

Everyone cracks up at this, but they finally think to line up some of the ongoing events with the prophecy – which predicts doom from both east and west, though everyone had forgotten this up till this point. Normilan continues to eat questionable meat. Everyone focuses on the upcoming festivities as a crisis point, certain that some sort of event will occur at it. With little more to discuss, they turn in.

DM: The next dawns with a potent air of expectation. It’s a normal day but everyone is focused on preparations for the festivities on the morrow, and everyone goes about their duties with an air of distraction and eager anticipation. Many folk have begun their revelry early! Brunt, you are saddened to see the amount of public drunkenness on the streets. Fortunately, you’re off-duty and it’s not your job to clean it up.
Brunt: I’m gonna look for trouble anyway! Anyone who looks way too drunk that they’re actually causing mischief.
DM: It hasn’t hit that part yet possibly, because it’s still morning.
Normilan: The early bird catches the worm!

Eilnys heads to check up on Durm and mother him, and they squabble over whether or not he should drink chamomile tea. She also tries to talk to him about his rival, though it doesn’t go well.

DM: “I’m kicking his ass and he’s an elf, that’s enough to make anybody cranky!”
Eilnys: “No! Boss, it’s his family, he hasn’t heard from ‘em.”
DM: “He has family?!”
Eilnys: “Do you?”
DM: “Aye, a couple, here and there, but I’m a dwarf, we’ve got clans! All dwarven clansmen are family! He’s an elf, what do they have? Sticks! To go up their asses!”
Eilnys: “No, they have family too.”
DM: “Well it’s hard to imagine.”
Eilnys: “Aye.”

Cruroar heads off to make a Gather Information check to figure out where the Dragon Slayer rumors started, while Normilan and Brunt head up to the castle.

Normilan: Can I bring people in with me?
DM: Which people?
Normilan: Brunt?
DM: (spectacularly confused) He… can… go in… just fine… he works there.
Normilan: Okay? I didn’t know if he could go into court without issue.
Brunt: I’m like the minorest of minor members of the court.
DM: You’re a guard, you’re sort of like… a piece of furniture.
Brunt: I’m a Stormtrooper without a helmet. I’m just wearing the armor.

The pair wander in to see Zook, and he and Brunt receive a direct introduction for the first time. Brunt inquires about the Glass Fountain.

Brunt: “The one the chancellors had closed off.”
DM: “Yes, I’ve heard of that. It was my recommendation.”
Normilan: “Really?”
DM: “It’s long been known to us practitioners of the arcane arts that powerful magic surrounds it, but none of us has ever been able to figure it out! It seems to be tied into the many plates and crystals, as if it’s some sort of giant puzzle. But there are so many possibilities and so many options that whatever you did up there never had any result. However, rumor has it that someone up there was fiddling around with it, as people are wont to do, and just disappeared, like that! The chancellor finds this most suspicious, and he’s attempting to figure out where he’s gone. I’ve been doing some research into it myself, although nothing ever comes up. It seems to leave no trace, whatever happens. It might just be a hoax.”
Normilan: “Interesting. Is there any way to get permission to go up there and take a look?”
Brunt: “Perhaps we could assist in your investigation.”
DM: “I’ll have to talk to the chancellor about it, but it’ll have to wait until after the festivities. I’ll see what I can do.”
Brunt: “Indeed. …Can I interest you in some mystery meat?”
Normilan: “We’ve got lots of it.”

Cruroar trades out his levels of warlock for levels of douchebag somehow, causing his collar to magically pop.

Normilan: “What are you up to today?”
DM: “Preparations. We’ve received all of the submissions for the sword contest, I have to go through all of them and make sure none of them are cursed or otherwise imbued with evil magics.
Cruroar: What, does he have to touch ‘em? “All right – OH SWEET JESUS IT HURTS!”

Brunt heads off to see Captain Slamhand. He invites Brunt in with a nod.

Normilan: “A man of few words. Sorry, I shouldn’t be here!”
DM: He dungeoncrashes you so hard that an entire cylinder of a column pops out and you’re in its place. Now you’re holding up the castle.
Eilnys: “I just wanna say, I appreciate your appreciatin’, sir.”

Brunt inquires about the rumors Normilan had related to him, about the Captain of the Blades being a shoo-in for promotion. Slamhand bids him shut the door.

DM: “I believe, but I cannot prove, that the Captain of the Blades is being somewhat indiscriminate in the arrests her men are making.”
Cruroar: Oh! That’s where that comes from.
Brunt: “Quantity over quality.”
DM: “Indeed. When you report that you’ve captured so many criminals, it matters little that many are later released. They do not hear of that. However, I think I have my own ace in the hole.”
Brunt: “Can I help?”
DM: “You will.”

Slamhand hints strongly that the upcoming contest has much to do with his plans, and Brunt predicts a literal tug-of-war contest.

Brunt: Brunt’s sucking up because there’s actually people who accept him here.

Cruroar accuses the DM of having a weird smirk. He also manages to track the trail of the tale of Cruroar the Dragon Slayer to the southwest, about halfway to the dwarven kingdom. To his relief, Cruroar discovers that the stories often paint a much shinier or better picture of him than reality.

DM: It often seems to indicate that you are stronger and more dexterous than you really are.
Cruroar: It’s good. I can slip out of these rumors fairly easily.
DM: This isn’t a difficult thing. “He was weak as a fly and as arthritic as a granny? That’s still too generous for you, Cruroar!”
Cruroar: It’s an 8, not a 2!

Normilan attempts to purchase a pony keg, ends up purchasing a real keg, and carries it around strapped to his back. They revel and make merry, more or less! Several of them head down to the Awakened Eye to talk to Cruroar’s boss.

Brunt: “Hey, Cruroar’s girlfriend.”
Cruroar: She has a name.
Eilnys: We just don’t remember it.
DM: “What can I get for you?”
Normilan: “Two things. First, have a mug of ale. Second, I wish to speak to your boss.”
DM: “What cause?”
Brunt: Your customer service is terrible! Get me the manager!
DM: She steps into the back. A moment later the door opens, and Cade comes around the counter… so you can see him.
Normilan: I pass him a mug. “Have a pint of ale!”

Normilan hires Cade for his psionic powers to find out what’s going on in the elven homelands. The price is 500 gold, but Eilnys and Cruroar chip in on it in turn. He bids them come back after he’s had time to prepare (or he’ll charge them extra), so they return to while the night away on revelry. The next morning dawns with much flavor text. It is a year to the day since they first embarked on their journey to face the kobolds who stole their sheep! They all move into position for the ceremonies!

DM: Brunt and Cruroar, you both find yourselves placed in a dignitaries box, along with a couple of other people.
Brunt: “Whaddya think this show’s gonna be like?” “I dunno if you call it a show! Do-ho-ho-ho-ho!”
DM: Normilan, you are in the king’s box, along with several of the major courtiers and their assistants.
Normilan: In the back, kind of in the corner, but I’m there.

Eilnys ends up with the smiths and Tasha is in the cleric delegation, and Brunt keeps demanding that the Constructicons get on with the ceremony. The king mounts a platform and gives a speech, which the DM doesn’t deliver because it’s really long and rambling.

Brunt: Are you sure is Maximiano, and it’s not… (a very long pause) AIBGHALIEN?
Eilnys: I’m gonna watch the brother… you know, the temper tantrum one?
DM: He just looks bored. As does, admittedly… most everybody.

The speech finally ends, and with a ringing of trumpets, the prince and heir comes down the passageway through the crowd, a young and vital warrior in armor that looks the opposite of his father. The players cheerfully comment on this like an MST3K track.

Brunt: Is the Lady d’Airmee sitting in the king’s box?
DM: Yes.
Brunt: (an unspecified gesture)
DM: You hit on her, in front of everybody!
Brunt: I’m not in that box.
DM: THAT HASN’T STOPPED ANY OF YOU!
Brunt: I’m not Lars!
Cruroar: “HEY BABE! HEY! YEAH! YOU! THE LEFT ONE-YEAH!”
Normilan: “Flash ‘em!”
Cruroar: “Get them boobs out! Get ‘em out!”
Tasha: “ I got some beads!”
Brunt: Cruroar and Brunt, over in the peanut gallery. (chanting) “Show your tits! Show your tits!” We’re dragged off in irons.
DM: The Ordained Marshal, the leader of all the military forces, rises, at which point Eilnys realizes she’s been going out drinking with him for the better part of a year now.
Eilnys: (choking) Fuck!

The king solemnly dubs the prince, then offers him the blade. The prince swears the oath of servitude, then takes the blade. Everyone is extremely surprised.

Cruroar: I was thinking the prince was gonna be like, “You can take your throne and shove it!” and walks away.
Tasha: What I was afraid was the prince would be all, “Thank you father.” (stabbing motion) “I’ll have the throne now.”
Brunt: He pulls an Arthas!
DM: “Now! Let the sword judging begin!”
Normilan: “Death to all swords!”
Cruroar: “That’s a SPEAR!”
DM: The King, the Ordained Marshal, and the two captains step out amongst the weapons. In actuality, though it goes reasonably quiet, their discussions are not so loud that anyone can reasonably overhear them. The assortment of weapons laid out is very impressive. There are magnificent weapons of all sorts, from the functional and solid to the hewn ones that would probably wilt if they ever saw battle and everything in between. Many of them glow. Some of them have obvious magical qualities. For some space of time, they walk amongst them, a flunky at their sides taking notes.
Brunt: With a unibrow! Flunky must have unibrow.
Tasha: I was afraid the king would be possessed by something, and stab the prince real quick. “I dub you knight!” (making a murdering motion) “What have I doooone?!”
DM: Now I kind of wish I had ended the session right as the prince was mounting the dais and let you all think about what was gonna happen for a week.

The king finally selects a weapon – Durm’s! He is pronounced the winner, and leaps to his feet with a cheer!

Brunt: “What have they got? Sticks!”
DM: “But it would be a shame to let all these fine weapons go to waste!”
Tasha: “Melt ‘em down!”
Normilan: “Make a statue of them!”
DM: “Commemorating ME! The king!”
Brunt: So what’s going to happen to all the swords?
Cruroar: He’s got another story to tell us.
DM: “Brunt, of the Hands!”
Brunt: Oh crap.
DM: “Come to the dais.”
Cruroar: (sadistic laughter)
Tasha: Silence from the crowd, except for one female voice from the priest’s side. “Wooooooooo!”
Brunt: Here he comes! Oh that’s the Dragon Slayer, my fault.
Cruroar: I’ll just be all, ha ha, and then suddenly, “Cruroar the Dragon Slayer.” God damn it!
Brunt: Excuse me, pardon me. Whoops, killing people on the way down!
DM: You step out of the guests’ box and into the cold gaze of every single person probably in the entire city. The prince, the king—
Brunt: I wish he had told me.
DM: The court!
Brunt: Can half-orcs turn red? I’m turning Red Hulk over here.
DM: The king waits for you.
Tasha: Mount the stairs.
Brunt: Front ways or back ways?
Normilan: Don’t channel Wes. Don’t channel Wes!
Brunt: Wes didn’t ACCIDENTALLY kill people all the time!
DM: “Brunt of the Hands. We know that you have been commended for valor amongst the Hands before. And thou hast served the crown well. Thereby, it pleases Us to give thee a gift that thou mayest continue to serve us in full capacity.” Stepping up the stairs behind you, the little flunky guy offers the king a sword. He draws it and it sheds light as if a brilliant spell had been cast upon it. This he touches first to one sword of yours, and then the other.
Brunt: The flunky?
DM: No, the king! “Arise, Sir Brunt.”
Brunt: Aww shit.
DM: “And take this thy weapon.”
Tasha: Aww, you got the second-place sword.
DM: No, it’s not the second place sword, it’s just another sword.

The players applaud Brunt as sincerely as they can, which really isn’t very. Brunt shuffles off as quickly as he can. The King calls up a few more people for ceremony, and then…

DM: “Cruroar, known as the Dragon Slayer! Approach the dais!”
Cruroar: I knew it! I knew it.
DM: You too step in front of the great crowd, every eye upon you for your deed of dragon slaying! They know you to be a slayer of wyrms, an assassin of tyrant lizards! You step up to the dais, using all your unholy diplomacy—
Brunt: Unholy!
Eilnys: “He got a lucky shot!”
DM: “We have heard of thy bravery in slaying that greatest of foes to mankind, a foul and wretched wyrm. Thy deeds have been spoken of by many. We knowest that thou art not a wielder of blades, however. We shall not grant thee one.”
Normilan: “So get out of here.”
DM: “Instead, We award thee a title. We dub thee Baronet – the Baronet of Prole.”
Tasha: Wait, aren’t you a male character?
Brunt: Not ‘ess’.
Normilan: He’s a mini-baron.
DM: Baronet is like the lowest title, right above knight.
Tasha: Above knight. So you now outrank Slamhand over here.

Tasha spends a while questioning how this works, while Cruroar is called a weasel. He offers thanks, not entirely certain he hasn’t been insulted by this lowly title.

DM: Dude, the king just gave you a title. A lowly peasant boy from Spindlethrift. You’re doing good. You know, it’s no dukedom, but you’re still doing pretty damn good for yourself.
Brunt: I’m still gonna refer to you as Baronet from now on.
DM: Baronet Dragon Slayer.
Brunt: Because when I say Cruroar, I could be talking to anybody, right?

The ceremony comes to an end after more knighting and awards and bequests, and the crowd breaks apart for the tournament! Cruroar is detained, discovering that his title is royal in nature and thus has no lands, but gives him a pension of 500 gold a year and rights to own a manor house in the high city.

Brunt: And all of a sudden, Cruroar becomes George Jefferson.
Cruroar: Am I really the George Jefferson of this campaign?!

Cruroar dissolves into hysterics because, as the DM points out, he got something good for a character and can’t handle it. The PCs revel across the night, and the next morning, the routine is back to normal (except for Eilnys, there’s a party at Durm’s).

Brunt: Now I’m not Dr. Brunt any more, I’m Sir Brunt.
Normilan: Dr. Sir Brunt.
DM: Brunt, when you reach the castle you are called into Captain Slamhand’s office. He fixes you with a very serious look.
Brunt: “You asked for me, sir?”
DM: “I have orders for you. I trust you will fulfill them to the best of your ability.” (handing Brunt an actual envelope)
Cruroar: …does that say “ORDER” on it?
DM: Normilan, you wake up to a rapping on your window.
Normilan: “That’s not my door.”
Tasha: It’s a woodpecker.
Cruroar: It’s a ninja. That’s what they do.
Normilan: I rise.
Brunt: “Sweet and sour chicken, veggie spring roll…”
Normilan: I go over to the window, fly open the shutters.
DM: There’s a massive, massive bird sitting outside.
Normilan: How massive?
DM: It would have trouble fitting through the window with its wings furled.
Normilan: That’s pretty big. “It’s a roc! Oh Christ!”
DM: (clapping and bursting into furious laughter at the look Brunt is giving him)
Brunt: Whose signature is that?
DM: It’s the captain’s.
Brunt: Wow, I need to get him some lessons.
Normilan: What I’m impressed with is how clearly ORDER was written.
DM: As you open the window, the bird muscles its way in and lifts a wing. Tucked beneath its wing, against its body, is a scroll tube. It comes off, the bird simply watches you. (passing Normilan a letter)
Brunt: “Captain, this makes no sense.”
DM: “They are the orders I have been given, and I’m choosing to give them to you.”
Brunt: (a long pause) “I understand.”
Normilan: I knew you were going to do this. As soon as I said that, I knew this would happen.
DM: Yeah… as well you should have. I don’t think I ever, ever led you to believe anything else.
Normilan: I just figured, “Aww, he wouldn’t do it.”
Eilnys: And that was your first mistake.
Normilan: The DM always has it out for me. Started with the religious problem.
Cruroar: Wait a minute! It’s not like you were the only person targeted! The religious problem had just kept around, because I was too busy being killed all the time!
Normilan: I will defend his decision to do this because of his low Wisdom. My problem with low Wisdom characters persists! At least I’m playing them right.

Normilan hustles his butt down to the Awakened Eye to quickly beseech Cade for that scry he promised. Brunt heads for the group’s favorite tavern, the Wizard’s Delight, to find it mostly empty and the familiar innkeep.

DM: As you step in, he gives you a wave. “Not on duty today?”
Brunt: “I’m afraid so.”
DM: “Oh, it’s odd to see you in here. I know I’m up to date on my taxes! Hahahaha! Ha… ah, what, what brings you down here?”

Brunt pretty much collapses at the NPC’s mannerisms, leading Cruroar to declare a KO.

Brunt: “When do they normally start coming in for the evening?”
DM: “Well on a day like this, probably won’t be until the sun sets. Everybody’s… a bit full of liquor.”
Brunt: “You have a crowd of regulars, I take it?”
DM: “Why of course! You’re one of my finest! You and your merry crowd, ha! Ah, I still I remember that time, when that group of Hands… or was it Blades? Was it Hands or Blades…”
Brunt: “It was Blades.”
DM: “Of course! You’re a Hand, how could I forget! That time the dwarf lass, Eilnys, got them all drunk. Ha, that was both a good night for sales and a good night for COMEDY! Ah yes, good old reminiscences. Ah, then there was that time that Old One-Eye came in here… rambling on, as was his wont. Told the story he liked to tell, with the three kobolds and a mermaid lass. He always told that one, but that time he said it, he forgot how it went that time. And everybody else had to step in and help out, and it turned out that everybody else remembered it perfectly! And incidentally, that’s why you’ve never heard that tale. After that time, he never told it again! Ah… ha, anyway, about sunset.
Brunt: “My friends, you see them in here regularly?”
DM: “Of course!”
Brunt: “Every night?”
DM: “I wouldn’t be surprised if I saw them in here again tonight. After all, your dwarven lass, Eilnys, she has a bit of celebrating to do, eh? After her success up in the competition. You know I don’t have much to do with the upper city, but it’s good to hear that some of those swordsmiths up there are actually making swords that are actually worth the steel they’re made out of. Ah, it’s comforting to know that our people when they’re out there in the field, and the king himself, will be well defended! Ha, I remember, I remember the one time – going somewhere? Brunt? Brunt?”
Brunt: (having made ‘out the door’ motions some time ago) I don’t think he’ll even notice me leaving.
DM: “Brunt? Brunt?! Oh, I hope I haven’t offended him by not calling him Sir Brunt!”

Brunt heads down to the Awakened Eye himself, coming in with a dark and somber expression.

Cruroar: “Hey… uh… buy something? I get commission off it..”

The group stares at each other awkwardly, as they wait for Cade to come back from his manifestation. They question why Cruroar is still working retail. Forty whole minutes pass before Cade finally comes out of the back!

DM: “Much is chaos there. It was difficult for me to make out what precisely was going on. But it seems the elves are fighting amongst themselves.”
Normilan: “The grey and the sylvan.”
DM: “Yes. You know more of this than you have let on.”
Normilan: “Only this morning.”
DM: “That would indeed explain much of what I saw.”
Normilan: “Now Brunt, where are we headed?”
Brunt: “Back to the palace.”
Normilan: “In irons?”
Brunt: “You were expecting this.”
Normilan: “From the news I received this morning, yes.”
Brunt: “Then you’re not going to resist?”
DM: FISTS OF STONE!
Normilan: “I cannot resist. Orders are orders.”
Cruroar: “Wait a minute. What?”
Brunt: The worst part of this is the DM is enjoying every second of this.
DM: OF COURSE I AM! THIS IS PERFECT! (audibly squeeing)
Normilan: He‘s squeeing. Let’s resist each other for the hell of it.

Cruroar, struggling for answers, can’t do anything but come along. Brunt tries to get an explanation from Normilan, and gets out of him at least that it’s the fault of the elven king, because Normilan refused his boon. They head for the castle, with people noting Cruroar as the Dragon Slayer as they go, to his misery. Cruroar zips off to find Eilnys and Tasha.

Cruroar: (bursting into Durm’s shop) “BRUNTJUSTARRESTEDNORMILANANDISTAKINGHIMOVERTOTHECASTLETOTAKEHIMTOJAIL!” (bursting out)

Cruroar has much less success when he bursts into a CHURCH looking for Tasha, while the players gleefully imagine how Normilan will be imprisoned. It isn’t awesome; he’s put in a cell deep underground, which is magically lit and sealed. Brunt reports back to the captain.

Cruroar: (to the DM, indicating Brunt) He’s so gonna kill you. In real life. He’s gonna leave early, the DM’s going to go outside –
DM: “Hooonk!” Crash! He’s gonna use that baton he got to beat up tow truck drivers on me…
Brunt: I already had it. Just now I have a specific reason for it. Anyways… “It is done.”
DM: “I apologize for asking that of you. But the orders came to me and I had to give them to someone. Now I can be certain I know where your loyalties lie, and that means hopefully we can make more of this than simply throwing him to the wolves. Your friends was arrested on request of the elven kingdom. The request came through late last night. The king, as I understand it, decided it was more important to make certain that the peace with the elves held stable. Between the troubles with the east and the west, we can’t afford to have the elves pushing in on us from the north.”
Brunt: “How did he figure into this?”
DM: “It was a request from the elven king to have him arrested and taken back to the elven people to be tried as a traitor. We are going to have to send him. However, since you by your actions have shown your loyalty to the crown, myself, and the Hands is greater than that to him – or at the least you trusted me enough to go through with this thinking I might have something in mind. But having done that, no one will question the fact that I will send you as the deliveryman. And if you should happen to take your friends, no one can stop them from traveling in the same direction as you.
Tasha: How hard would it be to get a guard’s uniform?
Cruroar: Oh dear god.
DM: For what purposes are you – how are you trying to get it?
Tasha: Nothing, I just want to check on Normilan. I just want to get a guard’s uniform, put it on, disguise myself as a guard—
DM: No, the Lawful Good way would be to ask if you could visit!
Tasha: But I doubt if they would let me.
DM: The Lawful Good way is to ask if you could visit. You should TRY it first!
Tasha: LAWFUL GOOD SUCKS!
Cruroar: And we are at TIME. One hour, forty five minutes till she attempts to get out of being lawful.

Actually, it’s more like 2:45. Eilnys and Tasha get told back in an hour. Captain Slamhand puts his trust in Brunt to resolve the manner as best he can, reminding him how crucial the elven alliance is. By now, not one single person EXCEPT the DM can pronounce Normilan’s name properly. Eilnys zips off to visit the elf’s!

DM: The place is closed as you reach it. The shutters are shut, the door is shut—
Brunt: The door is doored.

Eilnys asks a guard for help, but fumbles over her words badly enough that the guard calls her a child. She milks this for all it’s worth, then bangs on the door violently.

Brunt: Someone will call the guard over the disturbance. Then I’ll have to arrest two of you in the same session.
DM: Only one of which is my fault.

Brunt openly wonders how things would have gone if he’d attempted to smuggle Normilan away, then just shakes his head.

Brunt: You would have been just as amused if we’d tried that route. “HOO HOO HA HA HA HA HA HA! You’re on the run! You’ve betrayed everything and everyone! Spindlethrift will BURN!”
Eilnys: You’re probably not wrong, you know.
Cruroar: “They’re probably going back to Spindlethrift. BURN THEM until we find them!”
Brunt: All your families will be dragged out into the street and hung out in a crow’s cage.
Tasha: The only one who survives is Marros.

Tasha and Eilnys go to visit Normilan, who is moved into a visiting cell, which Cruroar finds oddly hilarious.

DM: One hour in jail has made a haggard and miserable man of Normilan.
Normilan: (cheerfully) “Hi guys!”
DM: His sanity is clearly slipping and he screams in anguish at his predicament.
Normilan: “Man, I’ve been thinking a lot.”

Tasha rants in anger, in between ludicrous escape plans and disguises, about the injustice of this arrest. Normilan, resigned to this situation, tells them he intends to go along with the extradition.

Tasha: “Hey Normilan, if something happens… can I have your stereo?”
Brunt: “You got the stereo, but I got the CD collection.”

The group returns home, desperate for some sort of idea or plan. Really desperate.

Tasha: “Who all thinks we should head over to the Seven Clans and convince them to attack the elves first?”
Eilnys: That’s not lawful!

The group proposes leaving the town separately, Brunt and Normilan together and the rest some distance behind, to join up later. Tasha decides that her version of ‘Lawful’ involves her god supporting everything she does.

Brunt: You become Fred Phelps. That’s how you justify it.
Eilnys: Just don’t forget that he’s dead now.
Brunt: You disguise yours as Fred Phelps.
DM: On a natural one, you disguise yourself as Fred Rogers. Acting like Fred Phelps.
Normilan: Oh dear god, that’s terrible.
DM: I know!
Tasha: I rolled a 29 to disguise myself.
Brunt and Eilnys: As Fred Phelps.

Normilan writes out some letters as they travel – their plan going into effect without a hitch – one to Zook and one to Tyraen, the latter quite snarky. For some reason, the group bursts into a rendition of Bohemian Rhapsody, I don’t even know… On they travel, with the group set to reach the elven lands at the beginning of the next session, and the players bereft of ideas…