DM: Last time you were attacked as they attempted to recapture their target.
Leonarus: And we discovered much about these shadow creatures and the strange world they inhabit.
Goruza: Or have we?
Leonarus: Yes we did.
Goruza: Or have we?
Leonarus: Yes we did.
Goruza: Or have we?
Leonarus: Yes we did.

The group gets very confused over the experience totals, and ends up 250 short of the next level! Leonarus demonstrates goatse bread to everyone.

DM: Because Leonarus is doing that, the prisoner escaped in the night.
Leonarus: I like how the prisoner escaped in the night and we haven’t done, or moved, anything since the last game ended.
DM: It was night last game. So he escaped.
Leonarus: In between sessions.
DM: No. Just now.

They haul the prisoner back to the cabin. The DM elects to run the game like a Kevin Sorbo movie, in which he will only describe the combat instead of playing it out. Warwick ties up the captive as they lampshade Lilith’s answer.

Goruza: She’s off communing with nature.
Warwick: Ah… copping a squat.

While Tristan debates new voices for his character, such as Antonio Banderas or the Undertaker, the DM again wishes desperately for a player to shit themselves at the table. Leonarus suggests that the cleaning wipes they have would be ideal for such a situation.

Leonarus: Thick strong wipe, just what I need.
Warwick: Isn’t there warnings if you get it on your skin or something?
DM: That’d be hilarious, if one of the warnings was “do not wipe rectum with.”
Leonarus: Nope, it only warns you if it’s in the eyes. Rectum is A-OK.
DM: That’d be hilarious if it’s exactly what it says! “Recum is OK!”
Leonarus: “That’s oddly specific.”
Warwick: I wanna try googling it and see if it comes up in the autofill. “Are Lysol wipes good for…”
Goruza: That not-so-fresh feeling.
DM: The rest of the night goes unimpeded. Morning awakes. The prisoner still tied up outside, eyes closed.

The game gets really distracted on the subject of Google autofill…

Warwick: Dolphins… rape? I’m like, come on, Google. And then I typed in “Do dolphins” and it autofilled “do dolphins rape.”
Leonarus: Yes. They sure as hell do. Dolphins are goddamn rapist assholes.
DM: That sounds like a personal story…

As the morning dawns, their victim seems to be gradually waking up. Warwick hurls a bucketful of water on him, but he remains still.

DM: As you splash water on him, you do see watery red coming out of his mouth.
Tristan: He’s bitten his tongue.

Silence.

Tristan: Don’t look at me! I’m not good at fixing – well, you cast Restoration, his tongue will grow back, right? We can play this game all day!

Warwick pries his jaw open, leading the group to question how people actually manage to do that sort of thing. A cure spell stops him from bleeding out, though, so they gag him. Warwick fires up Read Thoughts!

Warwick: I step up to him, place a boot on his chest. “Unless you want to make this interesting…” And I use Sleight of Hand to start playing around with my dagger, in complex pattern. “I suggest you start cooperating.” 26 [on Intimidate].
DM: He meets your glare head on.
Tristan: Oh!
Warwick: “Who and what are your friends?”
DM: He glares at you harder. His thoughts are of gems sitting in a blackness, a darkness. Creatures moving. The shadows encasing people, turning them. Gems forged in darkness. A bubble of darkness around you, a pool of liquid black in the center. A gem like the one you have, except it’s bigger. A foot tall opal, pulling the shadow up. The vision stops, his thoughts calm.
Warwick: “No, not ready to answer? Fine.”
DM: The DM will remind you that his gag is still on.
Warwick: I know. He’s not looking like he’s ready to talk, so. “Not willing to talk yet, huh? At least you can tell us what you are trying to do.”
DM: New thoughts. Horic. Taken. You see others around him.
Leonarus: I’m interested in learning about the one that was fleeing.
Warwick: “Yes, why would you stay and the other one flee?” And I start tracing my dagger along his face.
Leonarus: You realize that all this time you’ve been tickling him with a flower.
Warwick: This is why my Intimidate hasn’t been working. 25 this time.
DM: He seems to shake a bit, but he’s not splurging yet. The moment you asked the question about his friends, you hear the voice of someone. “If you are to get captured, kill yourself, or run and do the same. No one should know of us. And beware your –“ It seems to go away, as a thought brought back a memory to him. You see a piano. You see a monkey playing a piano.
Leonarus: Welp. Didn’t expect that.
DM: The thought seems to progress as it repeats itself over and over again and a small tune again.

The image is just a mask for his thoughts. They give him credit for trying, at least…

Warwick: I just cant my head a little bit. Is it a well-known tune?
DM: Sort of. It’s this world’s equivalent of the circus tune.
Leonarus: But the merry-go-round broke down. Woohoo! Woohoo! Woo-woo-woohoo!

They turn their questions to the strange shadow realm and the man they had slain the night before. Their captive identifies him as a traitor, both in thought and grunt, and the shadow realms as developing from the gems, which formed naturally and in strange ways – almost as if on trees, growing from large to small as they go up their plants.

Warwick: “I’m tiring of this… how large is your organization?”
DM: You see pictures of a leader, someone ahead of him, the person who brought him in. You see shadowy pictures of a person behind that one. You see lots of small cells. That’s about it. He doesn’t seem to have thoughts of a large organization, just small ones that work to the same goals.
Leonarus: What are their goals?
Warwick: “What do you hope to achieve?”
DM: His knowledge seems to bridge around the idea of giving marks to everyone. People who hate the idea of the great houses and the dragonmarks, how there’s only a few people who have them. They hope to give marks to everyone at any cost, and they feel the gems are the way of doing this. You see visions of gems doing what marks do. Some of the gems, when infused… you see visions of a hand, a gem infused in it, markings going out like a tattoo, going above, showing a fake mark. Then this person was clearly able to use the Mark of Making.
Warwick: Homogenization, how very droll.

The gems are being made deep in a mine in a mountain that the person doesn’t know the name of. It must be on the same plane, but seems to be accessed through the portals.

Leonarus: “What is he glad we haven’t asked?”
Warwick: I cant my head towards him.

A long pause.

Leonarus: GAMESMANSHIP!
Warwick: “Do you wish to answer this, or shall I turn your tongue into a necktie?”
DM: Wait, what was the last question?
Leonarus: What is he glad we haven’t asked?

The DM’s response is nonverbal, but Leonarus cracks the hell up from it.

DM: I’m having problems answering that from the character’s perspective.
Leonarus: Well, is there anything he’s sitting there going, “I hope they don’t ask this!”

They end up with a vision of his next target. Warwick identifies the Mark of Detecting on this person. It turns out each gem seems to correspond to a different dragonmark. Gilbert complains that his luck is terrible.

Tristan: But what’s eating Gilbert?
Leonarus and Warwick: Grapes.
DM: The thoughts die out.
Leonarus: …did he die?
DM: No, I’m saying you guys haven’t asked any questions…

Horic identifies the target as the leader of his house in Wroat – Baron Trillin or something like that.

DM: I can’t pronounce these. I just wrote a bunch of names down, and I wish I had written down names I could say. I just knew if I did that… “Ah, here’s Ken Mark. John Fitzbody. Taylor Tilefloor.”

The group argues over who should kill the guy. Leonarus insists that they should bring him to justice.

DM: I was tempted to turn one of the houses into Judge Dredd. “I am the lewwwwwwwwwww.”

The transcriber realizes he really should have mentioned the Planescape factions at this point, but, hindsight.

Warwick: “What better justice out on the road than frontier justice?”
Leonarus: “If everyone enacted frontier justice, we would have nothing but frontiers left.
DM: Can I try some of the cinnamon pulled-pork bread?
Warwick: Pulled-pork bread?
DM: I didn’t hear “pull-apart” bread, I heard “pulled pork” bread.
Warwick: “But maybe there’s merit in what you say. Let’s take him to the house in Wroat. Perhaps we’ll get a reward for bringing him to so-called justice.”
Leonarus: “We’ve certainly done much to earn rewards of late. One more wouldn’t hurt. Let us lash him to the top of the carriage.”
Goruza: (whipping noises)
Leonarus: “Not that kind of lash!”
Warwick: His skin is like melded with the cart.
DM: I wish the trip ahead wasn’t so short, because I just envision if this was a busy road…
Leonarus: “Criminal. It’s okay, I’m a priest. Criminal.”
Gilbert: “I can’t say I’m a fan of that kind of stuff.”
Leonarus: “Would you prefer that scum rode in the wagon with us?”
Warwick: “Perhaps we could serve him tea.”
Gilbert: “Hmm. Perhaps if he was bound and gagged…”

They overrule Gilbert, and then promptly question the weather. Unable to find the weather table, the DM attempts to use the random fight move table.

DM: Raining like wild swings. Lucky it deals no damage.
Leonarus: What’s the chance of knockout?
DM: One percent.
Leonarus: Welp, rolled poorly! (miming a collapse)

They reach the city walls in good time, and give their names and affiliations. Horic identifies himself and is told to hurry to his House, and take the criminal to justice there in turn.

Leonarus: “We submit to your policy. We well understand that you may not wish us to travel with a criminal lashed to our roof.”
DM: You look around. It seems to be a common thing!
Leonarus: Wow, I like this place!
DM: “Bring out your criminals! Bring out your criminals!”

On they head – very slowly, because the Chariots of Fire theme is playing. The guard vows that they will keep the prisoner from killing himself by use of a ‘medically-induced coma’. Tristan and Warwick run rampant with accents, prompting Leonarus to declare he’s living in a cuckoo clock. Then on to House Medani to meet the lord! Gilbert pronounced ‘hummus’ as ‘hoomas’, rendering Tristan catatonic. They are invited in to see the Baron!

Leonarus: Making sure my cloak is properly fastened, so it mitigates the effect of my horribly intimidating bone armor.
Warwick: I deftly step on your cape so it snaps off.
Leonarus: It rips off in a gruesome display as I step in. He just sees this tall bulky man in bone stepping in, glaring at him. He pisses himself and collapses. Good job, now we don’t get a reward.
DM: No, you get… jail time.
Warwick: Oh, I actually have a decent Wisdom. I don’t do that.

They tell the baron of their adventures thus far! Shadow creatures, artificial dragonmarks!

DM: “Horic mentioned gems.”
Tristan: Reality Gem! Space Gem!
DM: No no, don’t say that, because that sounds too close to Space Jam.
Tristan: Life Gem!
DM: God damn it, we’re not playing Marvel Heroes.
Warwick: Yes, gems. They’re outrageous.
Warwick and Tristan: Truly, truly outrageous.
Tristan: A crystal sensation.
Leonarus: I’M trying to roleplay.
Warwick: Sorry, sorry. Entered my head, had to come out.
DM: The music’s contagious.

They show the baron the gems and Leonarus tells him of the shadow worlds. The DM wanders off, and they interpret this as the baron wandering off.

Leonarus: Damn, I done pissed him off.
Warwick: “You come into my house with this BULLSHIT!”
Tristan: “You come into my house with this ROLEPLAY!”
Leonarus: Natural 1 on my Intimidate. (Droopy voice) “We’d like our reward now, sir.”

The lord, on hearing that he is the next target, questions what the next move of the group will be, since they know that they know that he knows…

Leonarus: “With luck, they believe that the one that we captured in fact killed himself. He made many efforts to do so, and it was only through the intervention of the Sovereign Host that we were able to reclaim him from death. But then again, they may very well have known that, so we cannot assume.”
Goruza: (a loud wark from her phone)
Warwick: “Wait a minute… yeah!”
Leonarus: “Well put. This is why you are my faithful companion.”
DM: “But. We’re bringing back—“
Goruza: He’s bringing sexy back.
DM: “For bringing Horic back, you deserve a reward nonetheless.”
Leonarus: (Jafar voice) “Your eternal reward.” He’s swamped with shadows, massive blades leap out of his hands..
DM: Oh okay… we can go that way instead.
Leonarus: OH OKAY! 250 experience, here we come!

Leonarus takes a moment to explain the Conga Line of Death as servants haul in a chest. They see the gold, but the lord promptly slams it shut again.

DM: “There could be more for you, though. I have other missions – tasks these shadows have forced upon me. For you see, other cities are going through this very same thing. Other Houses. People are seeking answers. But I think you’re the go-getters to solve it.”
Leonarus: “We have already decided to put an end to this menace. We have no problem doing so in exchange for money.”

The baron ponders the trial of their prisoner, pondering if they can use him in some way instead of just executing him. Leonarus questions what god the baron might worship, which takes an incredibly long time to answer but turns out to be the Silver Flame. He asks them to investigate the King’s Forest, search for a portal, and deal with the bandits in the forest.

DM: He gives you a voucher of sorts for the tavern of your choice.
Warwick: Every tavern we go to: “No vouchers honored here!” on the front door.
Leonarus: Finally we end up at the tavern known as The Tourist Trap.

They find themselves examining a bounty board for potential work. Warwick attempts to take a 20 on Gather Information, but realizes that aside from various other problems that idea has, it would take 20d4 hours.

Warwick: Next week: “Man, I found out SO much information.”

According to Warwick’s roll, he hears that the bandits have become more aggressive and powerful of late. He goes out to look for the local criminal organization to get more information, and comes out with plenty. The other group hunts for a place to stay.

DM: You approach the tavern known only as “Tusks of the Tarrasque”.
Warwick: I didn’t know they had tusks…
DM: A question many travelers have asked. “Welcome to the Tarrasque. Y’all need a room? How ya be payin’? Ah… vouchers. Not a problem.” Taking the voucher—
Leonarus: “What level of room does that voucher allow us?”
DM: “It’s pretty much a carte blanche. We just send them the bill. How many rooms you looking for?”
Leonarus: “Five—“
Tristan: “Eight.”
Leonarus: Who are the other three for?
Tristan: Whores.
Leonarus: There’s gonna be an overflow of whores tonight.

Leonarus visits a temple of the Sovereign Host as is his duty, but the priest there lets him know that a mine to the north has been unusually active. He also asks the group to look for acolytes who went to the forest and have not returned.

Leonarus: (dramatic music)
Gilbert: I can’t say I expected that.
DM: A small cat turns to you!
Leonarus: Okay then… (more dramatic music)
DM: “Yes. They’re missing.”
Leonarus: (dramatic music)
DM: “You’re always welcome here, when you’re in town. We have a room, although I see you’ve already found lodging.”
Leonarus: I have companions I must stay with.
DM: “Have you spread the good word –“ (unable to keep a straight face for the question) “—of the Sovereign Host?”
Leonarus: “They have seen its might and know its power.”
DM: “We will seek you out if we have more information. In the meantime, if you could keep a look out for the acolytes.”
Leonarus: “Who are they? What are their names? Who are their daddies? What do they do?”

Someone abuses Leonarus for this. The acolytes are Lyle and Grimwolf; Leonarus promptly obtains permission to slay them if they’ve gone bad.

Warwick: License to kill, you even get a card. Ooh, can I be in an alleyway as he’s leaving the temple?
DM: Sure.
Warwick: Sweet. Put on my hat, Hat of Disguise, turn into an old beggarman… 24 on my Act… (ludicrously grizzled voice) “Excuse me, sir, do you happen to have spare alms for the poor?”
Leonarus: Try an ol’ Spot check here… 6! I’m terrible!
DM: You are easily fooled by his disguise, an old man, you believe he is a beggar seeking some coinage.
Warwick: “Just a spare coin, get me something to eat, sir.”
Leonarus: Three copper.
Warwick: “Oh bless you, sir, bless you.”

Warwick starts writing this down, as he looks expectantly at Leonarus to mark them off his sheet.

Leonarus: Natural 20 on my attack roll. Cloud of Knives. Pew pew pew!
Tristan: Well he is evil.
DM: Are you gonna keep following him?
Warwick: Yep, he gave me money, he’s a mark now!
DM: Do you see him?
Leonarus: Yup.
Warwick: “Surely three copper only… you can spare a few more, sir. This’ll only buy me a loaf of bread, I need something to wash it down!”
Leonarus: “Water’s free.”
Warwick: “Maybe for the horses, not for us types.”
Leonarus: “There’s a trough.”
DM: ‘There’s a trough,’ god damn! I want to see Leonarus when he tells that to an actual poor person!
Leonarus: If I had bone armor and the might of the gods behind me, I might.

Leonarus goes into an alley with Warwick, who unveils himself. Leonarus completely no-sells the reveal, and they head back to their lodgings for an uneventful night. They do some quick shopping in preparation for a venture into the forest. All the merchants are unfathomably sketchy.

Warwick: “Magic rings here, magic rings! Protect you against dragon fire. If it fails, let me know, I’ll refund your money!”
DM: “Over here I got dese magic bedrolls, dey work GREAT, only a hunnerd gold for dese things!”
Tristan: “I got this bag of beans.”

Leonarus casts Detect Magic on the bedroll merchant’s wares and verifies they have no magic at all, as expected.

Leonarus: “I must consider my options.”
DM: “I saw you coming into town with five friends, that’s five magic rolls, 500 gold, normally only get you one.”
Leonarus: “You make a good point, I should go consult with these friends. I should consult with a good friend right now.”
DM: “Okay, I’ll be waitin’ right here for ya, sir.”
Leonarus: I go get the guards and bust his ass.
DM: “What?! Of course they’re magical. Magically DELICIOUS!”
Leonarus: OH! I didn’t see that coming! He’s gonna walk! …anyway, shopping.

They all have no problem picking up their supplies, despite all this.

Leonarus: While I was in the market, I got a criminal busted for fraud. How was you guys’s morning?
Warwick: I just imagine that if I have to break my fast with you guys, I take my mask off and use the Hat of Disguise, look like someone different every day.

The DM wishes furiously for the session where everyone plays Sidereal Exalted and thus can’t remember each other from session to session. Debating whether to go into the forest directly or from the southern road, they choose the direct path and set off, grumbling all the way about their disappearing druid. The first day of travel sees them up to the edge of their intended search area.

DM: Night has overcome you. And the monsters have come out because you didn’t put the sign up!
Tristan: Oh, the demons! That is the easy – any time we want to suicide in [the racist] games… “Night is falling.” “Okay.” “So you guys are just staying out in the open when night is falling.” “Yeah.” What, are you gonna make all the demons NOT attack us because we’re refusing to live…

They settle down and take watches with the usual weary grumbling.

DM: How many watches ya taking?
Warwick: 47.
Tristan: Roll for each one.
DM: Awesome. 47. The watch is what, two minutes long? Well, if you guys did that, I’ll have to say you’re all fatigued.

Goruza spots a suspicious bird, which becomes like 30 birds by the time Warwick takes his watch.

Warwick: That’s… pretty damn alarming.
Goruza: All of a sudden we’re in a Hitchcock movie.
DM: A murder of crows. What asshole thought that shit up?
Warwick: The one for octopus is pretty funny… I can’t remember that one though.
Leonarus: I’m fond of the one for ravens, myself. An unkindness.
DM: Gilbert, it is your watch, apparently.
Tristan: “Beware of waking me suddenly.”
Warwick: It’s okay, I had mine ready too.
Leonarus: God damn it, you guys.
Tristan: Whoa, that’s a hit!
Leonarus: God damn it, you guys, I ain’t healing this shit.

The game is disrupted by looking up funny animal group names.

DM: Apes are a ‘shrewdness’?!
Tristan: That’s what it says.
DM: Please tell me the word below ants is ‘asses’.
Tristan: A drove of donkeys. A kind of cows. What’s a cormorant?

By now, the bird count is in the hundreds… although the background music has gone completely inappropriate. The birds attack, and initiative is rolled! Goruza manages to roll a 6 on initiative, which no one can believe. Gilbert charges his own swarm, using Death Mark on it.

Tristan: So you’re really gonna incinerate this flock?
Warwick: That’s awesome.
Tristan: Yeah!

The DM is treating these birds as swarms, which has everyone worried about their AOE potential.

Warwick: They’re flying, so I can’t use alchemist fire… (long pause) I’m gonna go back and lay down in my tent.
Leonarus: Don’t you have a frickin’ dragon breath mask?!
Warwick: Oh yeah, that’s right.

Everyone gets a cheap laugh out of this.

Warwick: I completely forgot about my mask. For this entire fucking class, I completely forgot…

Warwick rolls a mere 9 points of fire damage, but then Leonarus consults the rules, having remembered that swarms take extra AOE damage.

Warwick: And I can use the mask again in… three rounds. NOW I’m going to go lay down for three rounds, I’ll be back.
DM: While the swarm was heavily injured by Gilbert’s blast—
Tristan: The soul still birds.
DM: The birds still burn.
Leonarus: The birds still soul.
Tristan: Biiiiirds in heaven.
DM: They swoop in with pecks and bites! Gilbert’s already dead, he’s been eaten alive.
Gilbert: Not again!

The swarm misses its attacks, and Gilbert refreshes is maneuvers. The DM realizes he’d skipped Tristan, but Tristan can’t do much of anything anyway, so no big loss. The swarm continues to fail and the PCs continue to have no counterattacks. Leonarus smacks his shield to taunt therm.

DM: The swarm, hearing you smack the shield, flies over, grabbing the shield and flying away.
Warwick: Tearing your arm off.

The battle continues to stalemate till Warwick gets his fire back, then Gilbert unloads another Death Mark and wipes them out. Surprisingly, the birds were vanishing as they were destroyed, so little remains behind to mark the battle.

Leonarus: “Does that make it my watch?”
Warwick: (dramatic and overblown snoring for several seconds) …Yes.
Leonarus: Go back in your tent.
Warwick: (as the background music changes) Wow, this is some really dramatic sleep.

The next day dawns, and they proceed deeper. The DM adopts a cartoon announcer voice.

DM: Meanwhile, the Legion of Doom is plotting a plan against our noble adventurers. Their sinister enemies, the Bakery and the Hatter’s Guild, have joined forces to plot against them.
Leonarus and Tristan: Not the haberdashers!
Warwick: Dun dun DUN!
Goruza: Oh, no, the bakery, my enemy! My hips’ enemy…

The DM questions if they are traveling silently. Leonarus laughs in his face. Spot checks are called for, and Lilith is arbitrarily assigned a horrible suitor to punish her for her absence. The group passes things to each other by tossing, quite competently.

DM: Why are we good at catching and throwing, yet throwing dice is so very retarded? It’s like… come on, it’s all over the place!
Leonarus: (cracking up) He raises a very good question, I have to admit.
DM: Six years we’ve been playing this game, and our ability to roll dice has been steadily getting worse!
Warwick: Speak for yourself for catching, my hands don’t like to work.
Goruza: That’s why my dice rolls are so good.
Leonarus: Damn! It all makes sense! Shit!
DM: We’re gonna test out this secret. Next time you come by, you have two broken hands. “I’m gonna roll like a champion!”
Warwick: That is a bigass hunk of bread you’ve got…
Leonarus: Why’s everybody gotta have problems with my hunk of bread?!
Warwick: I got no problem with it, I was like, “Man, that’s a nice big chunk!”
DM: I don’t believe that bread is pullapart enough. You might have just put a regular loaf of bread and peel it away, because it wasn’t any easier to pull apart than a normal loaf.

They look around the campsite, and find a fragment of metal indicating it belonged to the acolytes of the Host. They regret not hiring a ranger or someone who could track.

Leonarus: A warforged ranger.
DM: (laughing) It just sounds so ridiculous! What, you hire Android #16? All the birds just chill out on him half the time.

On they continue, rolling terribly on Spot checks and not hiding as they go. All has gone ominously silent and still. Warwick proudly displays a very colorful finger.

DM: Are you fingering the candle?!
Gilbert: What in the world is on your finger there?
Warwick: Wax.
Goruza: Boogers.
Warwick: I would be very alarmed if that came out of my nose. “Ah… hospital, please.”
DM: Don’t worry, Warwick. That’s not brain, that’s grey. You’re fine.
Leonarus: You think it’s brain matter, but it’snot!
Tristan: (collapsing face first on the table)
DM: Tristan’s gonna come home with, like, scars. “What happened?” “Puns. Puns.”
Leonarus: I’m just waiting for when he faceplants on a d4 and we have to take him to the hospital. He slams his head down and lurches back up, it’s embedded in his skull, you see blood trickling out. We pull it out -- (miming a fountain of blood from the injury) “Put it back, put it back!”

Goruza gets attacked from behind, and is called upon to make a Fortitude save! She smashes it easily, and then finds a thin needle trapped in her armor by her arm. Tristan can’t identify the poison.

Warwick: Who wants a hunk of wax with my fingerprint in it?
DM: Police.
Leonarus: (at the exact same time) Cops.

They air-five in triumph. Night falls, and a giant text box declared it to be a horrible night to have a curse. Bats appear everywhere and Leonarus turns into a skeleton hostile to the party.

Gilbert: I’m pulling out my player’s guide and looking this crap up.
DM: It’s under the section of GM Bullshit, learn to love it.

Goruza starts to pass off the watch, but realizes she can’t hear her own footsteps! A silence spell, and initiative is called for! She is shot by an arrow, and must save again!

Goruza: Another natural 20.
DM: You feel a tug.
Goruza: Oh! Does this have one of those ropes in it?
Leonarus: Uh-oh.
DM: Yes!
Goruza: I’m going to grab the rope and tug back!
DM: As you attempt to grab it, it slips through your hands.
Goruza: Oh, because it’s that shadow bullshit.
DM: Give me a Strength check.
Goruza: 22.
DM: You feel yourself being pulled back.
Goruza: I’m going to put my ankle around the tent pole, so I’m gonna bring the tent down with me.
DM: That’s fine. As you get pulled away the tent, it comes flying. Warwick, your tent comes flying off!
Warwick: “Good morning!”

Warwick awakes in time to see Goruza being hauled off! The conversation gets really, really weird.

DM: How big is your character’s schlong?
Warwick: Sizeable.
Goruza: Oh my god.
Leonarus: Wait, which one of us?
Warwick: What, are we docking?

Warwick wakes Leonarus, while a bitter Gilbert attempts to borrow Goruza’s dice.

Tristan: They won’t work for you.
Goruza: Only I have signed the unholy contract with the god of dice.

Leonarus fires a knife into Gilbert’s tent to wake him. He certainly does. Warwick takes 12 points of damage, then laughs off a Fort save against the poison. The two arrows begin hauling him off!

DM: Leonarus, you are closest.
Leonarus: I fire a knife at him, what else can I do?

Goruza is tied up in chains, promptly discovers she has ranks in Escape Artist, and fails to use it adequately. Warwick starts getting pulled off, holding his action as he does. Leonarus fires a knife at Tristan to wake him up, having at this point exceeded the enemy’s damage output on the party, then attempts to seize Warwick. He arrests his momentum for the moment, then steps between him and the ropes. Weirdly, the tendrils go straight through him. Gilbert swaps into Roots of the Mountain stance and trades positions with Leonarus. By now, the enemies seem to have realized they can’t pull Warwick away, because the arrows disappear – along with the mysterious silence. Leonarus charges ahead to rescue Goruza!

DM: Do you have any sort of night vision?
Leonarus: I cast Ebon Eyes, remember? This is the most useful damn spell ever, I swear, I’ve cast it every time we’ve done anything. Because everything is at night or in the dark.
Warwick: I got potions of Darkvision. In fact, I’m gonna quaff one now. Ba-BAM! I gots the darkvision!
Leonarus: It’s expired.
Warwick: Well now I’m just blind. It became poisonous, so now I’m just blind.
DM: You can chase after Leonarus.
Warwick: I’ll saunter after him.
Tristan: I’ll traipse.
Leonarus: What the hell is with the sauntering crap, Goruza’s in danger!
Goruza: No one cares.
Leonarus: I care…
Goruza: No you don’t, you’re Lawful Evil.
DM: That doesn’t mean he doesn’t care. I’m pretty sure Dr. Klaw cared about Madcat, and he was definitely chaotic evil.

Leonarus digs up a 2nd Edition DMG and consults the potion miscibility rules, although it isn’t as funny as he expects. He runs into a pit trap!

Warwick: Saunter on over.
DM: He’s like, “See? Told ya we didn’t need to run.” You watch as your allies proceed at a gingerly place – gingerly PACE –

Leonarus promptly stumbles into another trap, which slams a spiked branch into his armor. He then blunders into another trap… but considering he has fast healing, he doesn’t particularly care. The DM realizes how this is going.

DM: You’re able to… (sighing) You are able to beast your way through most of the traps. Any trap that would have killed you is quickly healed off.
Leonarus: So long as I stay in front.
DM: You stay in front and set off all the traps, preventing your allies from being hit.

They find themselves in front of some portal trees! The DM attacks Leonarus with a Buzz Lightyear that deals 20 points of vile damage from a laser, except not. Warwick, Leonarus, and Gilbert enter the portal… which promptly slams shut behind him, as a draconic figure shows up to slash the portal to shreds, with only Tristan to interfere…