The Hunnerd Gold campaign begins with Cruroar complaining about the name of the game, since he can never connect the name to the campaign.

Cruroar: That’d be like the other game called, “One More Gold Than You Are Able To Spend.”

The DM quickly resolves a couple of missing players: Terry was summoned back to the elven kingdom, apparently by a bellow echoing across the mountains that also indicated he was the Dovahkiin. Needless to say, the players do not actually know the words to the song. Tasha, for her part, had to return to talk to a higher-level priest so they can figure out how to deal with the bridge haunt personally.

DM: She is the safest person to go while the rest of you are watching the prince and making sure he doesn’t Leeroy off into a pack of ogres.
Normilan: Is Quirion with us still?
DM: No, he went with Tasha.
Brunt: Awww… no, this is a good thing.
Normilan: This is probably a very good thing.

As night falls after much exposition about the castle construction, a cry goes up beyond the gates. A man is hurt outside!

Normilan: Our healer is gone. Sorry!
Brunt: It’s a brave… clansman of the Seven Star… clans under seven… one star… Seven Clans Under One Star.

Cruroar zips out, because he flies, to see what’s what. He spots shadowy movement silhouetted against the lake, and a soldier hauling a body to the castle.

DM: He obviously has few ranks in Heal, to treat an injured man thus.
Brunt: His roll determined he should grab him by the arms!
DM: “I’m sorry, I have to reverse-dislocate!”
Cruroar: Before he gets too far away from me, I break out my wands!
Brunt: “Here it is!” (mimes snapping a wand)
Normilan: “No healing for you!”
DM: You drop down to the ground. The guard, clearly startled, leaps back, dropping the injured man to the ground. The injured man cracks open one bloodstained eye, and then immediately holds up his hands to ward you off as you approach him with the wand.
Cruroar: “I’m just gonna heal you!”
DM: “I am not… physically injured… I’ve been tortured mentally… and deprived, but not… injured.”
Cruroar: All right, break out the wand of hunger! …Wand of reverse hunger!
Brunt: The wand of Full.

The man begs to be taken underground, claiming spies travel through the air. Eilnys hauls him off to the basement, or the pit that will be the basement eventually. They are unable to see whatever was moving out there, so Brunt draws his sword, which sheds light. Listen checks ensue! Giles rolls really well, despite having no idea what is actually going on. Many hear clattering on the lake side of the wall.

Giles: I try to point in that direction.
DM: “THERE!” Giles cries.
Giles: That’s probably not the way I would have done it.
DM: As this all proceeded, a figure steps into the light – the Prince, donning his chain hauberk.
Brunt: (the perfect grunt-slash-groan of ultimate suffering)
DM: “What transpires?”
Cruroar: “Movement! A mentally tortured individual – a guard found someone, but we see shadowy movement.”
Brunt: Hidden movement!
DM: “I see. Sir Brunt, what do you propose we do?”
Brunt: “…Find the intruder.”
DM: “…And… the plan to do so?”
Brunt: “Investigate the source of the phantom noise.”

The group moves off, heading around the beginnings of the keep building, and start rolling some Spot checks. Many of them spot a strange shadow clinging to the wall!

Brunt: Ninjas! Not to worry, those are useless.
DM: Even in the light of the sword, which is dim at that range –
Brunt: Throw my sword!
DM: “It’s me, the other prince! I’ve come –“ (miming being impaled by a thrown sword)
Brunt: The other prince. A contender for the throne!
DM: “That was unlikely at best. I stand by my actions…”

Certain it is hostile, Cruroar fires an eldritch blast at the creature. It’s Sir Killian! He deals 13 points of damage to the whatever-it-is.

Cruroar: Who did we just kill?
Brunt: What’s this ‘we’ you speak of?
Cruroar: Who did I just kill? Did I kill another king? It’s Maximillian!

The DM asks for index cards. The group hands them to him feebly, after which he calls for initiative! Brunt demands to drown at the first opportunity, while Eilnys goes at the single digits and no one can believe this. The cops show up, presumably to arrest her for rolling so poorly.

DM: As soon as your eldritch blast strikes this figure, a scrambling of bones and clattering comes from above you. You look up just in time to see a horrendous skeletal being racing down the wall towards you. It has two heads and seems to be composed of nothing more than a churning set of ribs connecting the two of them. It immediately leaps on the person who is behind in the marching order, Normilan.
Normilan: Wait, whaaaaat?
Brunt: That one took it really personally, apparently.
Normilan: Yes, it hits.
DM: Uhhhh…. 11 hits you?
Normilan: He rolled 11?!
DM: Yes.
Normilan: All right then. Heh.

The second head swivels to look at Normilan and four claw attacks rain down on him. Normilan starts rolling up a new character, but it goes terribly. He takes 16 points of damage and must roll a grapple check! His natural 20 comes out to a 26.

DM: That natural 20 saved your ass. It attempts to toss you into the churning rubs that surround it, where no doubt you’d be shredded like so much cheese, but you resist it, grappling at it with your mighty mage strength.
Brunt: (laughing) Shut up!
Normilan: A regular mage would have been chewed up by now!

The creature that got blasted starts attacking Brunt, which goes poorly for it. The DM compared the creature to a skeleton, sickening Brunt, who apparently hates insects.

Cruroar: It reminds me of that skeleton we fought in Exalted, except the one in Exalted was like, a tyrannosaurus.
DM: As three of you get ready to act, the walls next to you billow with unholy energy, and through it appears a horrifically-decayed figure!
Cruroar: It’s the guy from Sleepy Hollow! Shit.
DM: No. He has a head.
Normilan: Christopher Walken!
Brunt: I disbelieve. It’s that haunt trying to trick us again!
DM: At its gesture—
Brunt: (makes a pushing motion)
DM: …your hand passes through it, dick. At its gesture, the writhing bone creature retreats back from your shield.
Brunt: I was just about to ask it to call off its dog. Or… whatever that thing is. It’s probably still going to try to kill the rest of you though. (a pause) Buff meeeeeee!

The DM wonders if anyone is carrying a holy symbol, but no one is. Cruroar holds up two wands in the shape of a cross, but this is irrelevant. Giles shoots a skeleton for five damage, which its DR laughs off.

Giles: That was about my strongest attack roll, there, so you guys are screwed.

The ghostlike specter solidifies into a solid horrible creature. Someone identifies the bone creatures as ‘serpentirs’ and the figure as a ‘spectral rider’. Normilan tosses out Knowledge(nobility) to guess that the spectral rider does have the remnants of a noble heritage.

Brunt: King Golbez. King Killian. How far away is he?
DM: Good ten feet.
Brunt: Wait, he stepped through a wall?
DM: Yes.
Brunt: His back is now to wall.
DM: Yes.
Brunt: (maniacal grin) Well, here we go!
Cruroar: “My wall is smashed, oh no!”
Brunt: I didn’t mean to kill the wall!

Brunt bull-rushes the guy, dungeoncrashing him into the wall for 28 points of damage, prompting the spectral rider to curse Brunt’s mother in Infernal. Luckily no one tells Brunt. Cruroar fires off an eldritch blast. A third serpentir scrambles down the wall to attack the hell out of Giles. He takes 12 points of damage, fails a grapple check, and gets popped into the creature’s churning rib cage.

Giles: That’s not good.
Normilan: Does Giles scream like a woman?
DM: I dunno, does Giles scream like a little girl?
Giles: Pretty much, yes.

Eilnys whacks a serpentir and for no apparent reason it screams in elongated horror. Eilnys then is reminded to add her holy damage to the attack, and actually succeeds in hurting the thing. Normilan casts defensively and casts Fists of Iron.

Brunt: Babau Slime.
Normilan: No.
Brunt: No one wants Babau Slime.
DM: You have a move action, beside the cast.
Cruroar: Move your fists into its face.

A serpentir attacks Normilan, but his Toughening Transmutation gives him DR 5/- and he only takes 5 total damage, then rolls a natural 20 to resist the grapple check. But the serpentir gets four more attacks… and rolls terribly and only does 2 MORE damage.

Brunt: Time for the prince to prove his mettle! Or get shredded and die.
Cruroar: If the prince dies, let me tell you where I won’t be any time soon, as I fly in the direction of away for forever.
DM: The prince has been staying out of this combat out of respect for you guys not getting in trouble if he gets hurts. However, on seeing that Giles and Normilan are still in deep trouble – speaking of, you need to give me another grapple check…

Normilan gets popped into the ribcage, and the last one turns to Eilnys and rolls multiple natural 1s, dealing only 6 points of damage.

Brunt: It begins shredding itself in its own ribcage!
DM: The second head, sensing the incompetence of the first head—
Brunt: Ha! Does it knock off its own head?!
DM: Promptly takes over, knocking the other head back out of the fray. The second head proves to be much more competent, inflicting a total of… 14 points of damage on Eilnys.

Eilnys resists grappling with a natural 20. The spectral rider attacks Brunt, striking him through the shoulder!

DM: It burns, a horrible sickening corruption –
Normilan: Vile damage.
DM: No, it’s a smite good.
Cruroar: It’s SUPER vile damage – oh, smite good? Sweet Jesus.
Brunt: You destroy everything you touch, Megatron.
Cruroar: “Optimus, my ice cream melted!” “…Megatron!” “No, Optimus…”
DM: As you take 40 points of damage—
Eilnys: Holy crap!
DM: The blow strikes down, coming entirely too close to your vital organs, leaving a great rent in your shoulder and chest.
Cruroar: “I felt your sword nick my lungs!” …What? “Optimus, I got a C in English!” “...Megatron!”
Giles: 40 points of damage would have one-shot killed me.
Normilan: Me too.
DM: It ain’t fighting you.
Cruroar: Thank god.
DM: Giles, you are grappled by the serpentir and surrounded by its churning blades. What do you do?
Normilan: Burst from the placenta!

Giles escapes the grapple, then Tumbles away. Brunt realizes he has to roll decently on a bull rush to dungeoncrash the guy, though the DM cheerfully explains that he can use his sword to teleport the guy into position for a bull rush. Brunt merrily insists he is undead, due to his repeated survival. Brunt teleports him back against the all.

DM: Suddenly he is where he was, and he isn’t quite certain how that happened.
Normilan: Suddenly that moment of weird clarity. “Wait a minute… crap.” You should teleport him so he’s facing the wall when you smash him.
DM: And on the wall is written, “Behold Your Doom.”
Normilan: Brunt’s Smashing Wall.
Eilnys: Every wall is Brunt’s Smashing Wall.

The group briefly debates using the Wall as a means of execution. It goes off-course swiftly.

DM: We put you before the medieval firing squad. Three of them have blanks, but only one of them has a real arrow, so none of them will know which killed you. You see three guys with nothing in their bow… “Spang!” I wonder if it was me that did it.

Brunt very powerfully slams the creature into the wall, invoking several cartoon tropes in the process. 27 damage to it!

DM: You feel the wall shake and see trickles of dust trickle down from it as small chunks of mortar are dislodged—
Brunt: Chunks of Mordor!

Cruroar charges up his bolt with his whatever item, blasting the serpentir holding Normilan almost to death. The spectral rider commands the serpentir on Giles to leave him alone because he’s completely harmless, but it manages to miss every single thing on Eilnys. The DM curses his poor rolling even as the players reluctantly admire how cool these serpentirs actually are. Eilnys naturally rolls a natural 20. Normilan attempts to escape the churning ribs, and misses by 1 point. He takes 8 points of damage.

Normilan: Ah, -8.
Brunt: Stabilize!
DM: How are you at -8?!
Brunt: He’s not, he just wants to stabilize.
DM: 04. You stabilize.
Cruroar: Huh? What?

Eilnys rages in time to take the abuse from a serpentir, but gets popped into the churning ribs nonetheless. Brunt gets attacked from behind by its remaining attacks, while Eilnys rages from within the ribs.

Cruroar: Are we supposed to lose this?! Is this a dream?!
Normilan: It’s supposed to stretch us to our limits.
Brunt: Calm down. Remember Asgarddome.
DM: It attempts to grapple you and gives you a convenient shove. It manages to knock itself out of alignment so you are no longer flanked, you fucking useless serpentir.

Brunt avoids the spectral riders attack, and Brunt accuses the DM of declaring a miss by fiat. Giles charges into the fray and… just barely misses. Giles charges and misses.

DM: A malicious grin has formed on the face of the rider as he stares you down. It hints that you will fall.
Cruroar: Did he not move?
DM: No.
Brunt: Well, he knows I probably shouldn’t still be alive.
DM: He believes he will take you out. You can’t get lucky on that smashing into the wall three times. There may be a little of that going on.

Brunt gets lucky on that smashing into the wall a third time, though he notes that if they can’t put down the rider they might as well surrender. 25 damage wipes the smirk off the rider’s face.

Brunt: Is the wall still up?
DM: Yes. You’re bouncing him off of it like a ping-pong ball.
Brunt: He probably has additional AC on his back now ‘cuz he’s wearing so much of the wall. 29… ninjas coming through! That’s the story of Brunt, I’m either splattering people against walls or I’m wandering around the bottom of a fucking moat.
DM: You slam – don’t even bother rolling – you slam into him and the last vestiges of magic holding his corporeal body together give way beneath the onslaught. You remember in Baldur’s Gate how if you hit someone enough their limbs would go flying? These are undead so it’s a bit more understandable why that would happen.
Cruroar: You’re talking a Mortal Kombat 3 fatality. Shinbones everywhere.

Cruroar waxes the serpentir holding Normilan, and the mage is unenthusiastic. With one and the rider dead, the serpentirs attempt to flee!

Brunt: Wait. Nothing in your gamed ever flee – let alone undead!
Normilan: He’s had stuff flee before.
Brunt: Yeah, like kobolds.
DM: They still are intent on hurting you as they go, that’s the thing.
Cruroar: Are they just taking Eilnys away?!

The serpentirs take off at double double moves, since their move is 50 and they get four moves. She breaks free on her move, though, and scrambles back to the castle. Normilan punches a serpentir in the jaws, popping both of them clean off.

Cruroar: Singlehandedly won the day!
Brunt: Single my ass, he’s doing Exalted uppercuts over here.

Cruroar takes off after the serpentir and Eilnys, though the serpentir chases after Eilnys, though it deals only 6 points of damage. She and it continue to scrum, a healing item of hers canceling out its attacks. Someone chews gratuitously loudly as it grapples her and hurls her into its ribs again.

DM: The creature begins to move. This time, as it takes its double-move, it reaches the lake.
Brunt: I thought you said, ‘the creature begins to moo’.
Normilan: So now it’s going to grind you and try to drown you at the same time. What an ass.

Eilnys escapes again, while everyone else runs to try to get to Eilnys before she can be regrappled and tossed underwater. She passes the grapple check for the first check, but gets popped back in for the second round, then promptly pops right out with a natural 20 on her grapple check. It continues to roll terribly, and, unsurprisingly, she continues to roll amazingly (and be unaware of how her class abilities work). The group begs her to just take the AOO and run, which she does despite her rage.

Normilan: We’re gonna give you a hard time later.
Brunt: Yeah…

Normilan hurls Manyjaws! Cruroar fires blasts!

Normilan: I’m tired of you taking my kills! Manyjaws... on Cruroar!

The serpentir runs into the water at last, vanishing from their sight. Normilan demands they drain the lake, while Cruroar suggests boiling. Brunt relies on his favorite standby, drowning, but then elects to head back to the castle with the rest. The serpentir has escaped, angering them. The DM questions their marching order, leading them to immediate paranoia.

Cruroar: Brunt is in the front and the back of the group.
DM: Everyone is stacked on top of Brunt.
Brunt: It’s not about who gets hit, it’s about who gets their Will save first.

Cruroar makes with the healing wands, while Normilan gets confident in his 17 hit points.

DM: (slow descending whistle, followed by a crash) 18 points of damage!
Normilan: I’m still technically alive. And then it grinds me for 9. Damn it!
DM: Fleshgrinding Masterslaying anvil. “Who made this thing?!” It says ‘Acme’… That’s it! All Acme’s products were masterslaying products. Whenever the Roadrunner spoke the command word, which was “Meep meep”, they turned on the Coyote!
Normilan: It makes too much sense.
DM: That’s the best theory I’ve ever come up with.
Cruroar: So you’re telling me the Roadrunner was president of the Acme Corporation?
DM: And apparently an artificer.
Cruroar: That’s why he got it so fast. The damn Roadrunner was making it and bringing it to him!

The players grimly expect the prince to be horribly dead in some way, but they see someone frantically beckoning them to come at all haste. They hurry!

DM: A pair of guards stand with their blades crossed in front of the prince. Another couple are leaning against the building that will become the keep in time, looking pretty much out of it. Standing in front of them is the man you had earlier brought into the keep.
Eilnys: Oh god.
Normilan: Those guys are protecting the Prince.
DM: It does not look like they are protecting him considering their bare blades are right next to his throat.
Cruroar: Oh. Am I there yet…?
DM: The man speaks in a voice quite unlike the one he used when you arrived. “I mean you no harm, but I feel I must protect myself. Bring forth your Count. I must speak with him.”
Brunt: “Speak with him about what?”
DM: “The unfortunate state which I am in and he is now in. I apologize for the condition of your men, it was necessary. I apologize for the condition of the Prince, which is also necessary. I feel you all need a strong incentive to listen to me, or else you might simply dispatch me for what I am.”
Brunt: “You brought the undead?”
DM: “In a manner of speaking. I did not order them, they were sent here to capture me. However, I know who sent them. I know why.”
Brunt: Killian!
Cruroar: “You wanted to talk to me? Well here I am…” I can’t remember the voice I picked for him.
Brunt: It was just you. Whenever you speak.
Normilan: I can’t look at him. Trying to roleplay with a box on his fucking head.
Cruroar: All right, all right, let me take the box off. “What do you want to talk about?”
DM: “I ask for your sanctuary here. In exchange I will offer you aid against the forces arrayed against you. Though I am of their number, I have no longer a desire to serve their goals, so they will do great harm to me. If you will give me this promise, and the promise of… sustenance, while I am here –“
Cruroar: “Whoa, whoa, hold up. WHAT DO YOU EAT?”
DM: “It is more what I drink.”
Brunt: It’s a vampire.
Cruroar: “Does it have to be human blood, or human essence?”
DM: “It is preferable.”
Brunt: Welp, nobody fall asleep on duty! That’s punishable by drinking!
Cruroar: “You ask a lot.”
Brunt: “We cannot simply provide you victims.”
DM: “I am not simply asking that and offering nothing in return.”
Brunt: “What would you offer in return that it would make sense to simply sacrifice people to your hunger?”
DM: “Aid and knowledge in preventing the sacrifice of all.”
Cruroar: Damn it, if only I was neutral.
DM: “I will give you something for free, then. You’re faced against an army of the undead, created by imbuing the blood of a mad god into fresh gods, who have risen the armies of an ancient kingdom who fell when that god was struck to earth. They wish to eliminate all life from this planet. I was created as they were, and I too bear the blood of the mad god—“
Brunt: Azrai.
DM: “You well understand that it would serve me poorly to have a planet empty of life.”
Cruroar: If only I had Knowledge(History), I’d use my history of Maximiano to see if he’d ever struck a deal with darkness itself!
Brunt: “Who’s the one responsible for this?”
DM: “Which? There is so much to be responsible for?”
Brunt: “Raising the army of the dead.”
Normilan: “Who leads them?”
DM: “Those are different questions. They are not questions I wish to answer until I have a promise of sanctuary.”

Cruroar consults his Knowledge(religion) to ponder if doing this would be heresy, though the DM informs him that doctrine really doesn’t cover this oddly specific case. The DM does hint that they could restore the Con damage from a vampire’s kiss with Restoration spells.

Cruroar: “Is there any housing requirements you need for your condition?”
Brunt: “No windows!”

The vampire explains that his coffin remains in the hands of their enemies, and that he would not be very happy if he is forced to return to it. Cruroar grimly agrees to the sanctuary, at which the vampire frees the guards of mental control and they release the prince.

Normilan: I’m disappointed in no accent on this vampire. “Blah!”
DM: Yeah, you guys could take that seriously.
Brunt: “What shall we call you?”
DM: “My name is Mer’dovich.”
Brunt: Arkapatang.
Normilan: Vampire… not monk.
DM: Not monk.
Brunt: I don’t know, we haven’t seen him in action…
Normilan: I’m just going to put ‘monk’ and a question mark next to it.

They spend a moment discussing the undead who had just attacked, and their potential motivations. Luckily, they have no secret base in the lake…

DM: “Morden’thal is not their leader, but he is the creator of their most potent undead.”
Cruroar: Saruman!
Brunt: “Are they in league with the Clan… Seven…” God damn it…
Cruroar: Decepticons!
DM: Seven Clans Under One Star. “They ally with no living creatures, but I expect they will approach you for a … ‘civlized’ parley with you.”
Cruroar: “You surrender, and we will turn you all into the mindless undead, and we live happily – we ‘live’ undeadly happily ever after.”
DM: “They will seek to engage you at a time and place of their choosing, which will not be your fortress of... even questionable strength.”
Cruroar: “Hey, it’s still being built.”
Brunt: We need the Seventh Army to show up. Or the Sixth…
Normilan: We need a seventh army too. “Is this undead kingdom an oligarchy, or does someone rule them?”
DM: “He who rules is called the Praetor. That is his title. His name, if he knows it still, he does not give.”
Cruroar: “This information, even the dragon did not have. Perhaps with it we can gain allies which we could not get before. Even the dragon of the gate himself, if he could survive against the army of the undead, would not make the gold he so desires from the unliving. Do you have any information in terms of their leadership, any way of dismantling their forces?”
DM: “You will meet them soon, of this I have no doubt. They will seek my return. I know much that can damage them. They will attempt a parley with you.”
Brunt: Dig a hole, so we can kick their emissary into it. “THIS. IS. PROLE.”
Cruroar: Am I making a giant pit to kick people into?!

The vampire cautions them that the spectral rider who attacked them was just a minion and they will make another. Somehow the combat becomes a game of Crush the Castle.

Eilnys: “So what brought about this change of heart? Or is it just saving your own skin?”
DM: “Saving my own skin.”
Normilan: “At least you’re honest.”
DM: “I’ve been planning some sort of escape for some time, but no opportunity had presented itself.”
Cruroar: “You can’t be the only one. Are there others like you?”
DM: “There are my spawn, but they are of no consequence to me. However, I must make one thing perfectly clear.” He reaches up and rolls up his sleeve, bearing a pale white arm. However, it is marred through with spotches, as if it had been stained, and looking at it, you can almost see several versions of it, as if it was moving and not moving at the same time. The one arm is always the strongest and most clear in your vision, but it’s as if you’re seeing everything it COULD be doing at the moment, as well as everything it is doing.
Cruroar: Barack would have caught on. Damn it. I’m gonna roll a Knowledge(the planes) for no reason!

The proper roll is Knowledge(religion), which Cruroar rolls decently on. He determines the vampire is infused with the divine energy of the mad god, which hints at some of the mechanics of the template. Mer’dovich warns them that all of the leaders of the undead have this same essence, and Brunt has to roll to convinced him to spill.

Brunt: We did capitulate to what he wanted.
DM: Yes, but the more he tells you the more vulnerable he might be should you decided to turn on him.
Brunt: I see. “Hey, what’s behind this tapestry on your chamber wall? Oh!”
DM: “It’s the sun! What’s that doing there? Ohhhhhhhhh, dear.”
Cruroar: A 30.
Brunt: Pfft. What will he not tell us?
DM: You make a cogent argument in favor of telling, whatever it might be. He looks at you, stares at you for a while as if trying to see into your soul. The more you look at him, the more you see every action he could be taking as well as every action he is taking. Luckily they are faint images at best, so the ones with him stealing your mind or rending your flesh with his claws are just nagging hints.
Brunt: Are there also images, slightly blurry, of him bouncing off a nearby wall?
DM: “Suffice to say if you were going to attack me with a sword, it might be a very easy matter for me to see where you were going to attack and avoid it.”
Normilan: CLOCK KING.
DM: At the same time, were I to attempt to perhaps strike you with the power of my mind, and enslave yours, it might be very easy for me to find your resistance, identify the paths of defense you would use against me, and circumvent them.
Brunt: He’s fucking Kang the Conqueror!

The vampire cautions that he is not a priest and knows little of the god, and tells them of how the undead are spreading their realm, slowly but surely. Brunt cheerfully tries to hit him up for a quest to retrieve his coffin.

Brunt: A weapon worthy of…
DM: There were rewards for you all, except oh, Normilan agreed not to be a vampire any more, so you’re all traitors.
Brunt: He went to the great lake of blood and make a wish on it. The king of the vampires appears. “What have you dooooone?!"

Brunt cheerfully starts fishing for which of the undead leaders they should be attacking first, though the DM won’t make it so easy.

Brunt: I think we need to send the prince home at the earliest possible opportunity.
DM: “I should be here. What good am I if I can’t stand to defend my kingdom?”
Brunt: “Sire, these aren’t… normal circumstances, even for dire times.”
DM: “As true as that may be, let me ask you: how much respect do you hold for my father?”

An awkward pause. Then nervous, guilty laughter.

DM: “Is he a monarch who inspires you? Is he a monarch who would inspire you to give your all out here in defense of the kingdom?”
Brunt: “Sire. I did not mean… to suggest that you flee only for your own personal safety.”
DM: “I will take no foolish risks. But if we fall here I do not think we can find safe haven.”

Cruroar immediately sends a soldier off on his fastest horse to get a message to the Sixth Army, and with the session pretty much over, they settle into confusion over the fact that they’d been pretty focused on the combat. Weird.