Everyone complains about the transcriber starting the recording off with the rhetorical question of whose game it is.

Tasha: This is the story of Tasha.
Giles: I thought we were playing that pony game.
DM: That’s right, Giles has got a pony game for us, everybody start rolling up a character.
Normilan: Oh, he died, I can’t play.
Cruroar: I’ll play. I wanna play the one that flies.
Terry: I’ll be the gay pony.
Normilan: I’ll be the emo pony. I slit my wrists, and I’m done.
Cruroar: Roll for slit wrists.
Tasha: Roll to see if you get stabilized or bleed out.

They shamelessly loot the treasure of the chamber of Lara’sinfala. Normilan steps forward to the stone… asking for a brief reminder of what he was supposed to say!

Normilan: I say that. I wrote it down. No… I boldly stride forth to the Heart of the Mountain. I place my hand upon the rock. The STONE of the Heart of the Mountain. And say – in Elven – “May the magics which have been placed upon me by Lara’sinfala be undone.”
DM: Silence.
Cruroar: Oh, you said it wrong, Normilan.
DM: And then, slowly, the great stone begins to vibrate.
Cruroar: I thought you were wishing for gold.
DM: I want everyone to give me a Fortitude save.
Cruroar: Really? Oh dear God. At least it’s not my Reflex save…
Normilan: Nope! 7.

Normilan and Cruroar fail! The DM describes nausea washing over them, while the stomachs of the others twinge.

Cruroar: Oops, I shit myself.
Brunt: I spit on the Manslayer.
Normilan: I chew it back down. Mmm, trail rations.
DM: In the distance, as if carried on an unfelt wind, you’re convinced you hear screaming.
Cruroar: I believe you just killed all the elves. I don’t know how. I believe you did.
DM: At the same time, both what feels to be a weight lifts off your shoulder, and a great heaviness lies upon your form. …it’s a very confusing feeling.
Normilan: Wait a minute.
DM: You feel at once relieved, relaxed, and no longer oppressed by some feeling, and yet, more earthy. More weighty. As if you are feeling every ounce of human blood that flows through your veins.
Normilan: Am I, like, full human now?
DM: No!
Cruroar: It’s as if a thousand voices cried out in terror and were suddenly silenced.
DM: JUST a thousand.
Tasha: Alderaan: a very underpopulated planet.
Normilan: “Let it be known that from this day forward, Normilan Shapeweaver shall forge his own destiny.”
DM: As you speak those words, in a crackle of arcane fire the air rips asunder as the elven King Lassarin appears in front of you, a glare in his eyes and a flaming sword in his hand.

The party is almost universally shocked and horrified!

Brunt: Does he have his back to a wall? Opposed Strength check, bitch!
Cruroar: I use my rope, tie myself up. “They were holding me prisoner!”
Brunt: Brave Sir Cruroar, brave Sir Cruroar…
Cruroar: I’m CHAOTIC good.
DM: “What. Have. You. DONE?!”
Normilan: “Undone what you have done to me, unnaturally!”
DM: “You stripped the power from every last one of us!”
Cruroar: Oh wow.
DM: “TRAITOR! I WILL SEE YOU DESTROYED!”
Tasha: Wait, wait, I just rolled a 35 on my Bluff. “This is not the elf you’re looking for.”
DM: Let’s see here. Oh HE PASSED his Sense Motive check, with that +75 bonus.
Cruroar: From being unbelievable.
DM: He points his finger at Normilan and speaks words of arcane power.
Cruroar: Oh! Finger of Death!
DM: Would anyone care to roll a Spellcraft check to identify it? Those of you who rolled higher than 22 recognize Disintegrate.
Normilan: What’s my Fort save?
Cruroar: I think it’s if you have less than 100 hit points, you just die.
DM: Well no, if he makes the Fort save it does 7d6, if he fails it, it does 24d6. However, it stops an inch from your face, and spatters off an invisible barrier.
Cruroar: Whoa, Normilan parried that shit. Normilan parried the shit out of it.
Tasha: Bluff and say, “I’m more powerful than you’ll ever be!”
Normilan: “That’s curious.”
DM: “You will not slay my apprentice today, King Lassarin.”
Cruroar: OH, SNAP! WOW! Where did he come from?
Brunt: This is about to be Voldemort vs Dumbledore.
DM: Behind you, the figure of the archmage has appeared from nowhere.
Tasha: “Thanks, Spider-man!”
Cruroar: “Everybody gets one!” Okay, I’m done, I’m sorry.
Brunt: Are they going to duel?
Cruroar: (clearly not done) AVADA KEDAVRA! (mimes a furious wand duel)
DM: Cruroar in the back is flailing a magic missile wand around…
Cruroar: I don’t have it! I just have a heal wand!
DM: Your cured the elven king, brilliant!
Cruroar: I cured him of his dementia, he’s good to go!
DM: The elven King Lassarin practically quivers with rage. “I may be weakened, but I am strong enough to end you and your feeble little apprentice today!”
Brunt: I dunno, he just bitchslapped a disintegrate spell.
Tasha: Off of somebody else! It wasn’t off himself, dude, he just – pfft, off of that guy!
DM: Tyraen lifts himself up slightly. “I have one last thing to do. I suggest you use the time I am going to by you… to run.”
Cruroar: Oh my god, we’re having a Tellah death?!
Tasha: Natural 20 on my booking it out of there.
DM: At the same time, both archmage and elven king speak the same words and make the same gestures. Next to each of them, a great rift appears. Out of the elven kings, a huge figure, massive in size, steps. From Tyraen’s, out flies a mighty winged form you could only describe as an angel descended to earth.
Brunt: Is that Summon Monster VIII?
DM: That’s Gate, I’ll give you that one as a freebie.

They run the hell out of there and into the Corridor of Dreams, which looks completely normal, as combat erupts behind them. The mountain begins to quiver! A dragon roars from somewhere and something crashes!

Cruroar: Is a black dragon going to fly us away? “Looks like y’all need a ride!” Wheee! “That’ll be a thousand gold each.” Fuck you, big dragon!

They start scrambling down the stairs, making Balance checks along the way. Brunt, overbalanced by his shield, falls and begins to slide! Eilnys and Normilan catch him and right him. They finally reach the bottom, only to discover that the door is barred! …from the side they’re on. Terry, first down, begins wrestling with it.

DM: Just at that moment, a mighty crack of arcane energy sounds from the center of the tower… and the elven king appears once again, looking much the worse for wear.
Normilan: Uh-oh.
Terry: We’re dead.
DM: His flaming sword is long gone, and in his hands he holds only a dagger. One of his arms hangs at his side, lifeless, but he still gazes at you with the furry of vengeance in his eyes.
Cruroar: (mimes an eldritch blast)
DM: Roll for attack!
Cruroar: Does a 22 hit his touch AC?
DM: It does, roll your damage.
Cruroar: Hopefully he’s low enough that I can add ‘Kingslayer’ to my list.
Normilan: Cruroar! Dragonslayer. Kingslayer.
Cruroar: 12.
DM: He’s down. The eldritch bolt strikes him in the shoulder and takes the last of his waking strength from him. The elven king Lassarin collapses at your feet, bleeding out. You can see clearly now, his wounds and charred, his skin is bruised and he’s bleeding in many places. He looks like he’s taken all sorts of eldritch damage.
Cruroar: I can only hope his master managed to escape.
DM: The blood on his dagger is a brilliant red and clearly not his. Your hope may be futile.
Eilnys: Against my better judgment, I’m going to roll a Heal check to stabilize him.

The group, naturally, pauses to argue over the proper thing to do – Tasha advocates letting him die, while Brunt favors making him a diplomatic prisoner. They choose to save the king, hauling his body out of the castle and finally reaching the gate far below. There, in the burnt-out town, they see Valaya desperately bidding them to get on her turtle and flee!

Brunt: Grapnel gun, fire away!
DM: Brunt engages in a brief fantasy, the nature of which you cannot comprehend. “I’m Bruntman.” “Criminals are a superstitious and cowardly lot, what form can I take that would strike fear into them?” <(miming a body crashing through the wall) “That’s it! I shall become a Brunt!”
Brunt: I’m gonna carve little metal fists of sharp medals and throw then at criminals. Onto the Bruntcycle.

They clamber on the turtle, and with the aid of her speed spell, it races out of the ruins and to safety.

DM: She turns to ask you what exactly happened, but her gaze stops on the unconscious elf thrown over Brunt’s shoulder.
Cruroar: “You’re probably wondering why we have the king of the elves, well, it’s a funny story!”
DM: There is a look of undisguised avarice and delight in her eyes.
Brunt: Freeze-frame. “Them Dukes done given Boss Hawg…”
Eilnys: “I need some ale for this one.”
Brunt: We’ll let the King- and Dragonslayer tell this one.
Cruroar: No, don’t say that! No! You already spread the word!
Brunt: Okay. Baron Cruroar.
Cruroar: BaronET.
DM: You killed it, you bought it. Hail Cruroar, King of the Elves!
Cruroar: I told you, this game was going to end with me on a throne. “There I am, King of all the Lands. Probably wondering how I got here. Well, it all started yesterday.”
DM: “It all started back on a sleepy night in a sleepy town called Spindlethrift.”
Cruroar: So during the ride we can give her the basics. We got the wish off!
DM: “We could tell.”
Cruroar: “How? Was the lack of – all the elves losing all their power?”
DM: “They certainly didn’t have a fun time of it.”
Cruroar: “It seemed like they lost more than I thought they would.”
DM: “For many years they have been casting spells into that rock for their own protection and so forth. But now their supremacy is broken. Now they’re on the same level as everyone else.”
Normilan: “You told me what to say. Did you know this would happen?”
DM: “Yes. I did. This happened exactly as I hoped it would. And now, we are free. Finally, we are free of their enslavelment!”

A pause.

Cruroar: Oh my god. She is going to kill us now!
Brunt: “You don’t seem happy, Normilan.”
Eilnys: “I don’t blame him. She bloody duped us!”
Normilan: Normilan draws his knees up to his chest and just kind of sulks, deep in thought.

They worry about the lack of elven might added to the humans, but Valaya vows that the wood elves will not attack the humans any more than the grey elves. Cruroar looks forward to telling the human king all of this. Cruroar looks over at Normilan.

Cruroar: He is perfectly – I can SEE his character in Normilan right now. It’s awesome.
Brunt: Brunt is just wondering if he’s EVER going to get the promised gift from the elven king.
Normilan: Brunt, when I get enough money, I’ll buy it for you.
Brunt: I don’t know what it was!
Cruroar: We’re gonna find out, on it’s gonna be a note. “I’m sorry I had to call you in this way, but I had the perfect gift for you and this was the best way to surprise you.” On the other side of the door was a surprise party, declaring him whatever he wanted to be…”
DM: “We welcome you with open arms, now! You’ve passed the hazing!”

They speculate on the death of Tyraen. The elf king attempts to gloat over slaying Tyraen, but then Cruroar specifies he gagged the man, so all he does is laugh through the gag and get clonked. Eilnys determinedly tries to pin down Valaya on aid in the future, and extracts concessions for aid if the wood elves are capable of giving it. Returned to the wood elf camp, they are healed and offered shelter for the night. Cruroar starts distributing loot!

Cruroar: …a sheet of stained glass pried free from its frame – wow, did we really raid the walls?

..which leads to a fight over chalices.

Normilan: You’ve got minotaur horns for drinking out of, now you want pimp cups! God damn, come on, people!
Terry: Yes, so I can drink with both hands full.

…then they start preparing for the night…

Terry: Before we sleep, I have a substenance ring, so I can sleep 2 hours and watch.
DM: You don’t need to take watch in your own people’s goddamn camp!
Cruroar: You will eventually get to, don’t worry. If the DM was planning on killing us with these wood elves for whatever reason, he would be giggling a lot more and there would be a lot more smirks on his face. “Oh, so you’re gonna sleep without watch?”
DM: (smirking) Oh, you’re sleeping?
Cruroar: There it is, there’s the smirk of ‘something’s gonna fucking kill you.’
DM: Oh, so you’re opening the door, huh?
Terry: Eilnys just went to the bathroom, battle’s going to happen…
DM: Morning dawns. And shortly after you all awaken—

The pie timer goes off, interrupting the DM and giving everyone a good laugh. Wood elves bring along a breakfast for them.

DM: Followed shortly thereafter by Valaya herself, looking happy as can be. Absolutely radiant as she smiles at you all.
Brunt: Is she under a Dominate Person spell?
DM: “All… hail… Lassarin…”
Brunt: “Come along… you belong… feel the fizz…”
DM: As she bids you douse yourself under the cola fountain! “I came to ask what your plans are. Although we’d certainly welcome you if you chose to stay and put down the last of the grey elves’ resistance, I’m certain you have to go home.”
Cruroar: “I’m sorry, as much as I would like to stay, I have to beat the bards back to town so the rumors don’t already spread.”
DM: Rumors? Uh-oh!
Cruroar: “They say he killed the king himself! Blasted the king’s head clean off!” God damn it…
DM: “They say he turned into a giant tortoise!” “And he dueled the king in magic!”
Brunt: “Aye, that be Cruroar, ten feet tall and shoots fire out he arse…”
Cruroar: I’m trying to choke him but I can’t.
DM: “What are you trying to do?” “I’m giving you the thrashing of your life!”
Cruroar: I don’t think I’m Monty Burns weak!

The characters do indeed prepare to depart, and the wood elves gift them with rations and supplies to see them home safely. Normilan refuses all of their charity, leading to an image where they have to cut a large portion out of a pack mule because it was Normilan’s share.

DM: The wood elves assemble alongside your path, cheering you and making much of you, calling out that you are heroes, that you’ve saved their people – every word driving more splinters into Normilan’s soul.
Normilan: They’re no match for my GLOWER power!
Cruroar: Tasha has shown a lot of character here. I’m disappointed. I expected to have the Star Wars ending music as we walked away…
Tasha: I actually had it pulled up, but I was reading the book…

Tasha had the Imperial March pulled up. Cruroar attempts to joke that they should put Normilan back in the cage… despite him never being in a cage to begin with. Normilan cheerfully imagines different ways to pummel Cruroar. The sad ending music from The Incredible Hulk begins playing as the DM describes their exit from the grey elf kingdom, and god help me, it actually does make it kind of poignant.

Normilan: Before we leave the gates, I’m going to pour one out for my homey.
DM: Who was your homey?
Normilan: Irithel. He seemed like a decent fellow, but sadly he had to die.
Cruroar: As you pour the alcohol on his body, he springs to his feet!
Normilan: No no, I just take a swig… and don’t spit it out.
DM: It was rancid.
Normilan: How’s my alcohol rancid? It was feeding off my bad vibes…

In somber mood, they enter the human kingdom and travel into it, on their way back home. Given when they left, they know they can reach a small town they’d passed through on the way up.

Cruroar: Please tell me it hasn’t gotten to this town. Please tell me it hasn’t gotten to this town.
Please tell me it hasn’t gotten to this town. Goddamn black dragon – the black dragon is already spreading the word.
DM: What black dragon?!
Normilan: Yeah, you keep bring up this pet dragon, it’s like your imaginary friend now. “Come on, Blacky.” What’s the name of this town?
DM: Laston.
Tasha: Last Town?
DM: That is in fact where it was derived from, but then they stopped being the last town, so they shortened it.

They approach Laston – and weirdly, a tower that was certainly not there on the way up has appeared in the forest, some distance off the road. Given the late hour of the day, they elect to head to town first, to inquire and perhaps find lodging for the evening. Strangely, they see guards standing on the road, who promptly drop their spears and run like hell as soon as they see the approaching party!

Giles: This is not a good sign.

The guards flee into a large building, and moments later, others flee out of it! The town certainly hadn’t reacted this way when they came up, making them wonder what has changed – or even if they’d been in the elven kingdom much longer than they knew.

Normilan: The only thing different is that we have a donkey. I eye the donkey. Is it evil?
Brunt: It’s an elven donkey!
Normilan: (mining a punch)
Cruroar: You’re not Conan, you can’t go punching horses and knocking them out.
Normilan: The shit I can’t!

They enter the town, and with a mighty roll of Spot checks, spy a figure sitting against the corner of the town! Tasha rolls a 1 and promptly draws her ice axe on a fat lot of nothing, causing the figure to collapse and begin scrambling away!

Normilan: “Hold!”
DM: That didn’t work!
Cruroar and Brunt: Hold Person!
Normilan: I could do Earthen Grasp, but that’d actually hurt him…

Terry charges him down and tries to help him up, but the man collapses and begins shaking in fear! Eilnys is next on the scene, and attempts the dwarf equivalent of a Heal and therapy check.

Eilnys: I bring out my keg of ale and a tankard, and I pour some of it. “Ach, you need a stiff drink, mon!”
DM: The pouring of ale attracts his attention as nothing else has thus far. You see a wrinkled, elderly face peering out from the bundle of robes at the mug.
Eilnys: “Here, gaffer. I promise ya, it’s good ale.”
DM: He seems too afraid to take it. You may be trying to poison it.
Eilnys: Take a slurp…
DM: As he reaches out a gnarled trembling hand, clutches the mug of ale. With shaking hands he lifts it to his mouth, then promptly downs it with a speed and alacrity you find impressive even as a dwarf.
Eilnys: “Gaffer, can ya tell us what’s going on?”
DM: He looks at you over the rim of the mug, opens his mouth. It’s as if he’s trying to speak but can’t get the words out. He shuts it again, and shakes his head even as he trembles.
Terry: “Are you wounded? Do you need healing? I’m a druid.”
Eilnys: “We mean ya no harm, we’re just travelin’ back to the kingdom.”
DM: Jaw working as he looks between the two of you, then he abruptly points to Terry. “I have no word… stranger with bird.”
Brunt: “Out with it, old man, what’s going on here?”
DM: Intimidate check?
Brunt: I wasn’t trying to Intimidate, I just wanted him to talk.
DM: Well you said that and were rolling a die, I didn’t know.
Brunt: I was throwing it down! You want me to Intimidate him?
DM: “Oh shit, an orc! Don’t stab me with a fork!”
Normilan: He’s gotta fucking rhyme when he speaks.
Cruroar: Aww, I thought the first one was an accident.
Normilan: You said we would hate this adventure, and I’m already starting to do so.
Cruroar: “Hey old man, tell us what you can.”
DM: “An evil curse has made our lives worse!”
Brunt: “What curse?”
Normilan: “What curse? And please don’t be terse!”
DM: “You make a fuss, but it’s obvious!”
Eilnys: “Is it the tower that makes you cower?”
DM: “It’s the guy with the wicked eye!”
Brunt: “And where does this guy with eye live, that we might poke him with a shiv?”
Normilan: “Is it necessary for us to talk like this?”
Brunt: “I don’t know, but I have to piss.”
DM: “He’s committing sins in the inn!”
Eilnys: We’re going to the inn.
Cruroar: Let us go to the inn for the trouble within.
DM: To the inn you head, filled with dread. And by all accounts, you hitch your mounts.
Cruroar: And now we count.
Giles: What was that?
Cruroar: We were rhyming a bit too much.
DM: And prepared for more you step in the door.

The inn is lit way too brightly, and the people within are all weak and ill – save for a man by the fire, clothes in disarray and possessing a lyre of obvious value, who grins at them maniacally.

DM: “Travelers, come! Tell me, where are you from?”
Cruroar: Oh my god.
Brunt: Do we need Will saves?
Normilan: We will. We will.
Tasha: “We come from a way. Tell me, what is going on this day?”
DM: “Oh, I see you’re ready to play. That makes my day!”
Cruroar: Are we facing the Mad Hatter?! Fuck.
DM: He is not wearing a hat.
Cruroar: Oh he’s extra mad. He’s the Extra Mad Hatter because he’s lost all his hats.
DM: “I’m a musician, not of particular fame, but soon that will change, and Willicox is my name!”
Cruroar: “We are only passing through town. What brings you here?”
DM: “Well I thought that for a time, I’d spread my music and my Lyre of Rhyme.” (miming the strumming of a lyre)
Normilan: Will save!
DM: I’m not calling for a Will save!
Normilan: He played it!
Brunt: Is it in tune?
DM: Do you have any level of music knowledge that would tell you?
Tasha: “Though your Lyre of Rhyme may tell lies, tell me, what is this story of compromise? I wish to know what happens here. Tell me, I wish to know, my dear.”
DM: “I’d prefer if you said you’d treat me to a beer. But then again, you seem half-queer.”
Tasha: “Well, I do like to swing both ways. I would like to know what’s going on these days.”
Eilnys: “I’ll spot you that ale if you tell me your tale.”
Brunt: (slamming a hand down on the table) Are we gonna get XP for fucking rhyming?!
Tasha: “My friend here buys you a drink, that should give you time to think.”
Cruroar: “BARTENDER! Room please! Two of ‘em!” We’re gone! Let’s go! Keys now!
Normilan: “What troubles this town, that gives everyone a frown?”
Cruroar: “What about that tower, that’s made this town so sour?”
DM: “Well it seems they don’t like to rhyme, which you’ll agree is quite a crime. After all, you seem to have quite fun, and I’m sure you’re not the only one. And I confess that I’m surprised that they do feel so terrorized!”
Cruroar: “How long have you been in this town to make everybody so down.”
DM: “Perhaps only a day or two. It’s been quite an experience, who knew?”
Cruroar: “Tell me, did you see that tower?”
DM: “I raised that with my power!”
Normilan: God damn, he finished your rhyme. Kill the bastard!

It isn’t clear if Normilan is talking in or out of character, here…

Brunt: DM, if it’s Temin-ni-gru, I will kill you.
Cruroar: “But why a tower when you have such my power?”
DM: “As I have so distinctly appraised, it’s one thing that the Lyre raised. I’m newly come to it, you see, so all its powers are new to me.”
Tasha: “But this tower is quite impressive, tell me what it’s representive?”

Silence.

Cruroar: You’ve lost the game!
DM: “I am the chief, I control it’s might. If you come there, you’ll be in for a fiiiight!”
Brunt: Well, we need to level. Or we could just crush him here.
Normilan: There’s a lot of walls in this tavern…
DM: “Oh you think to challenge me, Terry who couldn’t gayer, or perhaps I’ll face Cruroar, the mighty Dragonslayer.”

The players, realizing what they’re getting themselves into, are in equal measures horrified and amazed by the DM’s rhyming ability.

Cruroar: “This power you speak of – when did you get it?”
DM: “Why I found this lyre, perhaps as a gift. I didn’t buy it; I know no such thrift.”
Tasha: “So harm to these people you do admit? Why would you do this…” Oh god.
Brunt: “You little shit!”
DM: “What do you mean I’m doing harm? Even you can see the charm! You lost your moral high ground, when, rhyming, you came around!”
Cruroar: “The guards run in fear.. and the bums cry with tears…”
Normilan: “It’s fun for a time, but it’s infuriating when you constantly rhyme.”
DM: “Ah, I have to disagree! And as for who’s right, we’ll soon see.” Will saves! You provoked him!

Brunt refuses to speak in rhyme, bluntly, but everyone fails. The DM informs them that they must speak in-character in rhyme, and must describe significant actions in rhyme. But they may finish each other’s rhymes.

Brunt: What rhymes with ‘initiative’?
Eilnys: All right, now I’m pissed. He’s going to taste my fist.
DM: “Ah, before you glower, allow me to show you the rest of the lyre’s power!” His clothing wraps around him like a vortex, and spinning like the Mask, he whirls around, out the door.
Giles: “Oh this is just great. I don’t like being in this state.”
Tasha: “To his tower we must go, we must go and not be slow.”

With Knowledge(arcana) rolls, they determine this is an object sent down from the upper planes to cause chaos and turmoil. The players are broken.

Normilan: Someone quick, slit my wrists, unless I give you my fucking fists!
Brunt: (in a tone that would make Eeyore sound manic) “If we must reach the tower, I suggest we set off within the hour.”
Tasha: “I suggest we sleep here through the night, so in the morning we are ready to fight.”
Cruroar: “We have traveled all day. Perhaps we should lay in the hay.”
DM: “I’ll give you a room if you save us from doom!”
Cruroar: “It’s the guy behind the bar. He’s been here all far!”
DM: “I’m the innkeep, not some random keep!”
Cruroar: “A room for seven. We’ll wake at eleven.”
Brunt: (groaning)
DM: “Here are your keys, I pray you beat him with ease.”
Cruroar: “Never fear—“
DM: “Cruroar’s here!”?
Cruroar: God damn it! You finished it!
Tasha: “Defeating him I can see in my visions. It would be easier with some of his vision.”
DM: “Food and ale, you’ll have a feast. If you save us, that’s the least…”
Tasha: “I will eat and drink my fill, and tomorrow morning I’m off to kill.”
DM: Tomorrow morning I’ll bang the stableboy, Will.
Terry: “We should not hurry, I need to get the booty…”
DM: Booo! Booooo! The curse backlashes on you, you take two points of damage from that pathetic rhyme.
Terry: Really?
DM: Yes, that rhyme sucked!
Normilan: I wish a tasty orange – fuck!

Off they go to the tower, rhyming all the way, while Brunt cynically suggests they just keep reusing the same rhymes over and over.

DM: The tower rises above the trees, you’re able to find it with ease, and nothing opposes your course therein, to undo this guy and his wicked sin.
Cruroar: Where’s the door to this tower, so we can get rid of this boor… of a flower?
DM: Two mighty double doors of stone stand there, and with you alone/

A long pause.

DM: There are no guards, is what I’m saying, but even so, you’d best be praying.
Brunt: See how good the boat adventure seems, now?
Normilan: It depends how much longer this goes on.
Cruroar: We’re still kind of into the cuteness of it, so far. We’re getting closer to annoyed. That’s two steps from pissed off.
Tasha: Upon the door Tasha knocks, hoping not to eat away the clock.
DM: The doors open at your strike.. and you’re killed. …psych. The ceiling here is 20 feet high, and it’s quite bright. If you’re wondering why, it’s because there are windows regularly set, to illuminate, as you prepare to take your bet.
Brunt: Our bet?
DM: Yes! For as you enter, a voice rings out, “What ho! You’ve come! Let’s scream and shout.”
Tasha: “Why you calling me a ho? I really want to know!”
DM: “Because it’s true, you know as well as I do.”
Tasha: “Ohhh yeaaah, you’re right.”
DM: “On this encounter, I’ve placed some coins. And I think I will gird my loins, with the fruits of my success, when my fiends you will best. For I bet… on my BARBERSHOP QUARTER!” With a crackle of energy, four enemies appear. Roll for initiative on these foes you fear!

Muttering rhymes, the DM begins drawing out the battle, scaring Normilan who wonders why he won’t stop. As they get positioned, the DM begins placing down the four enemies. While singing.

DM: Warriooooooooor…. Barbariaaaaaaaaan…. Rangeeeeer…. Wizaaaaaaard! Rolllll foooooor iniiiiiiit!

Giles, first to act, struggles with both his choice of targets and his choice of rhymes.

Normilan: Giles, go stab the wizard – right in his goddamn gizzard.
Giles: I think I’ll charge the one on right, see if I can give him a big fright.
DM: So you make your charge, roll for attack, see if you manage to get through your smack.
Giles: 28.
DM: 28, that’s definitely a hit. You’ve given him a world of shit. Roll your damage, see what you’ve done. Will he die, or continue his fun?
Giles: 17 damage.
DM: 17 damage, that’s a might strike. I assure you that he did not like. Eilnys, it is your turn, unless your initiative you’ll spurn.
Eilnys: And since I found the page, I’ll enter Cobalt Rage.
DM: That doesn’t take your action, so how will you put him in traction?
Tasha: Ugh, wow.
Eilnys: The barbarian I’m going to hurt.
DM: You’re going to make his blood spurt? Which one will you attack?
Eilnys: The one that Giles just smacked.
DM: Then move in a charge.
Normilan: Cruroar has given up several times already…
DM: It’s too bad she isn’t large.
Eilnys: Like a cat I’ll pounce, and take his flesh by the ounce.
DM: Roll for your attack! Just beat up the poor sad sack…
Eilnys: And with a 23, I will make him flee.
DM: That does indeed hit, though you won’t be doing a crit.
Eilnys: I’ll make him feel like shit.
Terry: Will it be a crit?
DM: I JUST SAID NO, you stupid ho!
Normilan: GO WAIT IN THE CAR! It’s not that far. The wizard shall get many pairs of Manyjaws to nibble away at his many flaws.
DM: Which foes are you targeting, of this foursome who likes to sing?
Normilan: The wizard will get the pain…. Nope, mind went blank.
DM: Your spell starts to fizzle!
Eilnys: I said he blanked his brain, I saved for him.
DM: What is his save, to avoid the grave?

The Manyjaws deals 20 points of damage, but the wizard saves. The DM moves on!

DM: Now Brunt, let’s see what you can do, with your mighty shoe and flailing arm to cause some harm.

Brunt fails to bull rush just barely, while Tasha moves forward to cause some harm!

Tasha: And I will throw my single boulder!
DM: How are you going to rhyme with boulder?
Tasha: At that shoulder.
Normilan: Right into the shoulder!
Cruroar: Over the shoulder.
DM: Very well, make your attack roll, to see if this boulder you can bowl.
Tasha: Unless an 8 will hit, I think I’m shit.
DM: To break my message down to the gist, you missed.
Tasha: (collapses)
Normilan: You broke Tasha…
DM: Giles, what is your AC, the fighter is attacking thee.
Giles: 19.
DM: (singing) Long swooooord. Power attaaaaack! Brutal hiiiiiit! Giles is boooooned! He hit you with terrible accuracy. Points of damage, 23!
Cruroar: It’s time to blast, because you won’t last, your future lies in the past.

Cruroar gets a bonus to his hit and splatters the wizard utterly. Terry is up next!

Terry: Can I send a flaming spear to that ranger… (a pause) In the clear?
DM: No you can’t, you don’t know that spell! You’re not reading it very well!

The players abandon all subtlety and go looking for online rhyming dictionaries! Terry finally sends her bird into danger to attack the ranger, while the DM cheerfully plunges on.

DM: He strikes twice at Brunt, not afraid to attack the one who isn’t a runt, but his shield does not yield. The barbarian goes in a rage, letting his anger free from his cage, and he strikes at the little dwarf who tried to treat him like Mr. Worf.

Giles debates whether he should tumble forward and flank, or withdraw and live. Unsurprisingly, he chooses the second.

DM: Eilnys, barbarian fight. Let’s see which one has greater might.
Einlys: 24 to make him roar.

Normilan maintains the Manyjaws, while Einlys inflicts some pain on the barbarian.

DM: On to Brunt. Who’d have thunt.
Brunt: Just because it rhymes, I think it should also have to make sense!
Cruroar: DM, die.
DM: Why?

Brunt unleashes a massive bull rush onto a foe, delivering 21 points of hurt while opining his enemy should wear a skirt. The barbarian is goo.

Tasha: I swing with my ice axe asunder, I will do 16 points of damage and then I will plunder… his corpse.
Normilan: That’s your problem, you constantly want to keep adding words and just ruin it.
Cruroar: The massive wounds are bound. My wands are renowned. Let healing light touch your flesh… as… damn it… as divine light heals – I don’t know.
DM: As divine light helps your wounds to mesh.

The rhymes are getting worse and more desperate as the battle goes on, and for some reason people squeal like pigs. After a few more attacks, Brunt finishes off the final fighter that opposes them.

DM: Abruptly all the figures disappear, as if they were never here.
Brunt: I disbelieve.
Cruroar: I’m pretty sure that whatever the check for that disbelieve is, it’s pretty high.
DM: And in each column, the stone slides away, revealing stairs—
Tasha: Oh god, here comes a force golem.
DM:(laughing) Leading the way. “I’d advise you to split up if you please, you’ll find that brings you the greatest ease. For soon I will switch my plans. Since you defeated my rhymes, something else I can see inflicted upon you, yes, that is what I think I will do. And this time I will join the fight and you will see my instrument’s great might.”

An extremely long silence.

Brunt: “Come on, Cruroar, follow me. Then up the stairs we’ll be.”
DM: Cruroar gives a mighty shout. “Fuck this nonsense, we’re out.” As you split up and begin traveling up the stairs, you feel the compulsion to rhyme eventually leaving you.
Normilan: Oh thank fucking Christ.
DM: It will be replaced with something much worse, I’m telling you now.

They reach the next level, only to find a gauth plopped down in the middle of the room, while in the back the bard forces them all to endure a Will saving throw again!

Normilan: Natural 20, please, for fuck’s sake…
Giles: No.
Tasha: YES! A 20!
Normilan: TWO!

An absurd number of people roll a natural 20, and no one is affected as the lyre sags in the bard’s hand.

DM: (singing) “I’m not finished with you, I’ll get you yet, but first you must face my little pet!”
Normilan: Oh god, it was singing. “I’m tired of your shit.”
Terry: So are we still rhyming?
All: NO.

The gauth starts unloading into people. Cruroar gets exhausted, dropping his Strength and Dexterity to 2 each. He begs to be taken out and tries to leave the game. Normilan summons a Blockade, to his overt delight. Giles attacks the bard, but the lyre makes a dissonant noise and his weapon is deflected.

Terry: I want to use a flaming… spear… spear… spear…
DM: I like how he was going out of his way to mispronounce it.
Terry: God damn it.

The bard again attempts to enchant them with the singing enchantment! Will saves once again.

DM: Unfortunately, only Cheaty McCheatface the High Roller for Perpetuity manages to shake it off this time. For a round you’ll all be singing. “It seems indeed, I’ve had my chance! Now I’ll heal my gauth with my little dance!” You can see the wounds on the eye sphere begins to heal. He plays with one hand and dances with his feet.

Cruroar deploys Snake’s Swiftness. Brunt splatters the gauth, but the lyre reconstitutes it! Brunt falls asleep thanks to its eye rays, Terry is stunned for a round, but they kill it again. Tasha sings as badly as possible to punish the DM for making her go through this, then encourages rap.

Normilan: “To my foe, I will see what you can do, when you are sloooow!” I cast Slow.

Sadly the bard saves. Giles just rhymes, but the DM allows that. Cruroar breaks into a weird jive as he hurls a silence-spell-imbued rock at the bard. They beg Giles, BEG Giles, to roll well and slay the bard, while the DM shakes his head at the good use of a Silence spell.

DM: The ice axe goes in one side, the dagger goes in the other. He falls, half a man. With his last gasp, he breathes out… “I just wanted… to rhyme… a lot… why is this… the thing—“
Normilan: (SMASHES HIM)

The illusory tower… promptly disappears, and they take six points of falling damage as they plummet to the ground below. With this final moment of humiliation, the game ends for the night.

Cruroar: You know what? You failed. You failed.
DM: Didn’t hate this more than the boat adventure?
Cruroar: Nope, because the boat adventure lasted five nights.
DM: It only lasted three sessions.
Cruroar: Every time I say it, it lasted longer!
DM: I know.