The game opens with malicious laughter, tickling, and trilling. Man, we’ve been away for too long.

DM: Reconvening after a long absence, we join our heroes and Krixix in the city of laughter.
Thalynmar and Krixix: (bursting into laughter)
Thalynmar: Well-worded.

The DM reminds me of their status: in the city of Waterdeep, having parted from the caravan and everyone’s favorite NPC, Sulesdag. The players promptly ignore him furiously. The cultists are heading north, and the players can easily join the charter company as bodyguards. The DM asks what they do; they respond with traveling music.

DM: You pop out of the city and head north, forgetting your quest, apparently…

They speak with the person in charge of the charter company --

Raven: What in the hell WAS our quest in the first place? I completely forgot.
Maldrake: We’re following the Cult of the Dragon to see where they’re going.
DM: Where they’re taking the treasure in any case.

They meet up with the NPC – Ardred Briferhew, or something like that – who welcomes them aboard with hearty slaps across the back for everyone of Medium size.

DM: None for you, Krixix.
Krixix: Oh come on!
DM: You’re too tiny, he’d just slap you upside the head, and then you’d throw a dagger at him, because that’s what you do.
Krixix: That is what I would do, yes.
Thalynmar: (chuckling) Why is that the same reaction to someone playing a trick on you?

The caravan is much smaller than the other, and for no apparent reason Mortal Kombat erupts. Jamna Gleamsilve has also signed up, and the caravan will leave on the morrow.

DM: You have one more day in Waterdeep to spend as you see fit.
Thalynmar: Yay! Drink it!
DM: You drink. Waterdeep. HOW?! Khelben Blackstaff’s gonna be pissed…
Krixix: I’m getting a hooker.
Thalynmar: You tried that!
Krixix: I’m gonna go hang out at that bar where I made friends with everybody.
Thalynmar: You’re going alone this time. I’m just letting you know.

Eben complains with his usual bitterness about how money is worthless and anything worth doing takes a year plus to accomplish, then sets about annoying the transcriber.

DM: Your actions have consequences!
Raven: They do?
Krixix: Not as far as Krixix is concerned!
DM: Where’s that Damage by Level and Severity table…

Krixix wrecks a PHB by destroying the binding glue somehow, while the DM gives everyone a pop quiz on their motivations and histories. Carousing ensues, but in fact no one gets any interesting results out of it – they mostly break even, although Lualyrr attempts to claim she rolled higher than is literally possible for her to roll, because she can’t do math.

Eben: More gold with which you can buy bagpipes. And nothing else.
Krixix: Like Skyrim, I will hide lockpicks on my body, so if I get arrested…
Eben: Or just pay the guard 10 gold.
DM: You are stripped naked, do you still have a lockpick?
Krixix: Yes!
DM: Roll for intestinal puncture damage.
Krixix: No, it’s in my hair.
DM: You were shaved, I forgot to mention that.
Thalynmar: It’s in my hair down there.
DM: Completely shaved. They were very thorough. The only place they won’t go is up the butt.

The hung-over PCs awake in the morning and attempt to die without regrets, then head off to join the caravan. The cultists are not particularly happy to see the PCs, to the point of loosening their weapons in their sheaths. The discussion abruptly snaps to the quality and purpose of the Metallica CD St. Anger, leading to bitter acrimony between Maldrake and the DM as to the proper location of the CD and whether or not the DM should have or should now put it back where it belongs. The caravan sets off, heading 200 miles up the coast! The DM calls for Charisma checks for some reason.

Krixix: “Did you hear the one about the cultist and his mother?”
DM: I can’t believe none of you guys gave me grief about that caravan adventure basically being the boat adventure. Cast of NPCs, there was a murder…
Maldrake: I could go back to my room at any time.
Krixix: That’s because you had Krixix this time, just being an ass.
DM: As opposed to Iglar being a drunkard… For seven days the caravan travels on, and -- (abruptly noticing Eben holding up a finger and making a curious noise his way)
Eben: Getting ready to blow up Planet Vegeta.
DM: It didn’t take that long!
Eben: It kinda did…

After seven days they get their first sight of the Mere of Dead Men, and then head into it for the remaining three. They come under attack, but the DM just narrates them because the encounters aren’t significant. On the 10th day the wagon rolls up to the Carnath Roadhouse. Roadhouse jokes ensue. The caravan rolls up and the wagon master explains each one will be taken in, unloaded, then brought out for parking. Raven bemoans the lack of pepperoni on his pepperoni pizza.

Raven: They kind of skimped on it.
Maldrake: I can SEE that.
Thalynmar: Fuck you, DiGornio. You weaksauce backwards. By the way, your sauce is weak!

The DM begins to describe the warehouse once again, only to trail off as he looks at Thalynmar.

Thalynmar: Wagons pull up to the outside, come on!
DM: I’m wondering why you’re giving me that look!
Thalynmar: What? I’m just listening!
DM: You look so goddamn smug about it! I’m wondering, what does he know that I don’t?
Eben: He read the module.

Jamna quietly questions how they’ll separate the actual road supplies from the treasure. Krixix vows to stay out of this; Thalynmar promptly tells him to get in there. Krixix vows to go investigate.

DM: The moment you step away from wagon—
Krixix: Of course. An arrow flies past your head! Roll for initiative!
DM: You hear a cry go up from behind you. “You! You yellow-bellied puke-scum skim-stain of a halfling!”
Eben: Who’s scruffy-looking?
DM: At these sharp fighting words, the attention of everybody by the wagons is immediately drawn to one of the people you recognize from your trips all the way up here. One of the men on the cultists’ wagon is striding towards you, hand on his sword.
Krixix: I’m just gonna stand there, look behind me, look around, all as innocent as I can possibly depict.
DM: “I mean you, small one! And I mean stature, dick length, morals, integrity, and any sort of value as a person!”
Krixix: “Well, obviously you haven’t spoken to your mother recently.”
Raven: (cracking up)
Maldrake: Oh! Burn! Ohhhhhh!
DM: “Excellent.” He draws both of his weapons. “I was hoping you’d give me an excuse to challenge you.”
Eben: Just that simple. Dude picks a fight.

Eben, cautioning Krixix that it’s dangerous to go alone, offers him a giant pixel sword. The combatants roll initiative, with Krixix burning his inspiration on his roll. Thalynmar wisely refuses to intervene in the fight, recognizing that will turn it into a brawl instead of a duel. Rerolling a natural 1 by virtue of being a halfling, Krixix sinks an arrow into the cultists for 23, then falls back – but can’t break out of the circle that has formed around them. The cultist uses Dash to close the distance.

Krixix: Is there any allies near by me? Like can I toss my bow to them so I don’t just drop it?
Eben: You’re SO paranoid it’s going to get stolen!
DM: That would take part of your move.
Krixix: It’s a magic bow!
DM: If you’re gonna do anything other than let go of it, it’ll take an action to do.
Eben: I’ll keep an eye on your bow.
Krixix: Thanks, that’s all I need. I don’t trust the DM to be like, “when your battle is over, YOUR BOW IS MISSING!”
Eben: Okay, I’ll cast Mage Hand and yank his bow out of the –
DM: It’s like one of those Goofy on Sports things, where everybody jumps on top of it, and one tiny guy goes on the very top and starts squirming.
Maldrake: The moment you drop the bow, seven mage hands come out of nowhere!

Eben envisions floating arrows deftly into people’s eyes with Mage Hand, as Krixix takes a swipe and then pushes into the crowd. The cultist catches up with his longer legs and begins brutally gutting Krixix with three weapon attacks. Krixix bemoans his roguish lack of multiple attacks.

Krixix: I’m going to sneak into the crowds, Naturally Stealthy, and disappear.
Thalynmar: Ah, the coward’s route.

Krixix is eager to get his sneak attack on, but the shifting nature of the crowd will complicate things. A burly half-orc and all the laborers from the compound are also heading to come watch the fight. The DM basically tells him to disengage, hide, and move… saddening Krixix for lack of attacking, who dives into the crowd.

DM: A chorus of boos goes up!
Thalynmar: Boos?!
Maldrake: Are you saying ‘boo’ or ‘Boo-urns’?
DM: BOOOO!
Maldrake: Okay, I thought you might be rooting for our friend here. Burns Cobblepot.
Krixix: Where am I in relation to where my bow is?
DM: Your bow’s in the middle of the ring, dude.
Krixix: Fuck me. I thought it was on the edge. The first time I fired on him and then jumped to the edge.
DM: But then the ring moved, on an initiative count that was not relevant because that was all it was doing.

Krixix, luckily, is on the side of the ring of people with all the laborers, and thought the cultists on the far side are surging forward to try to find him and point him out, the other PCs run ludicrous interference.

Maldrake: ‘I see my gold coin over there! Excuse me, sir!’ I pretend like I’m trying to get past them, while getting in their way at the same time.
DM: The half-orc shoves a bunch of people out of the way behind him, and the cultist you are fighting begins to push through the rest of the crowd, using the column the half-orc has opened as a way through. Midway through that crowd, though, he stumbles and drops to the knee.
Thalynmar: Did he trip, or what…?

Krixix heads for the wagons, so Eben creates an illusion of Krixix in the entrance of the roadhouse. Krixix is still very eager to attack the cultist, though Maldrake calls him a fool for risking himself. The PCs question why he stumbled and roll Perception checks, but none are able to figure it out. Krixix lunges forward to stab! Then realizes why this will kill him, and instead takes his action to poison his rapier.

Eben: At which time you will force the DM to go through the formality of, ‘He saved.’
Maldrake; Can you cast secretly in D&D 5?
Eben: You can’t countercurse…
Maldrake: ‘I wasn’t countercursing! I was chewing my gum.’ Gumley’s Every-flavor Gum. You get all the flavors in that piece. ‘Aww, bogeys! Turd! Piss…”
Eben: I’m going to telepathically speak into Thalynmar’s mind.
Thalynmar: “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH – hey, what’s up, buddy?”
DM: A horrible voice booms into your skull!
Eben: That – like – the ability doesn’t say anything like it’s the voice of God in the other person’s head…
DM: It’s unspecified, that means it’s up to me to decide!
Eben: You always make it, like, the Voice of Sauron.
DM: Well, you are getting the power from the Great Old One, how do you think it sounds?
Eben: Fair enough. “Shall we just turn it into a melee now, or wait for the inevitable?”

In thebackground, Thalynmar struggles to slice the pie with a knife so dull it makes whatever it cuts stronger. The group elects not to interfere in the battle yet, as the DM rather belatedly rules the communication is two-way.

DM: The cultist jerks his head left, jerks his head right, and then turns and slams into the back of the half-orc. He rebounds off the half-orc, stumbles backwards. A look of shock and horror comes over his face, and he collapses to the ground.
Eben: Wait, what? Did the orc just knock him out?
DM: No, he bounced off the half-orc, stumbled backwards. Froze. Then collapsed to the ground as both weapons fell out of his hands.
Krixix: I’m gonna run up and stab him real quick while he’s down. That’s how dirty rogues fight.
DM: Let me ask you. Do you want to run up and stab this person on the ground in full view of all of the other cultists, the laborers, the big burly half-orc, and the caravan master.
Krixix: No. (a beat) What I really want to do is –
Thalynmar: Pee in his mouth.
Krixix: Get my dagger to his throat and make him yield.
DM: You scramble up and realize he’s lying on his face. That will make this difficult.
Thalynmar: Then point it at his ass.
Krixix: I’m going to jump on him, grab his hair, put my dagger to his throat, and make him yield.
DM: You leap on his back and yank his hair back, holding the blade, but you feel no motion coming from his body.
Eben: Oh, he’s dead.
DM: Indeed, some of the people looking at him on the side you’re facing him recoil backwards at the expression on his face.

The cultist is indeed dead. Maldrake goes over to investigate, then pauses to berate the cultists extensively as they give him dirty looks. EXTENSIVELY! Krixix takes a victory lap, while Maldrake investigates the corpse with some Medicine.

Eben: We just HAD a murder mystery!
DM: You do a quick once-over on him and swiftly realize that he’s bleeding extensively from a wound on his thigh. You can see the blood has just gushed out of him.
Maldrake: Can I tell how long, like when it happened in the fight, maybe?
DM: You never saw it inflicted, you don’t know when it happened.
Maldrake: Based on the size of him, how much blood it would take for him to die, I can determine the amount of time that passed between when he died and when it happened, and then take that based on when the fight had happened.
DM: This was a very quick bleed-out. The femoral artery was cleanly severed, and the heart just basically pumped the blood out. The fight itself only took like 30 second tops. You also notice he has a nice wound that Krixix didn’t inflict on his back.
Krixix: None of the wounds I inflicted seemed to hurt him at all.
DM: Oh no, they hurt him, they just didn’t kill him. This one is a very thin wound and barely bled at all, but where it is it probably plunged straight into his kidneys. A very skilled hit.

Thalynmar saves the party by preventing Krixix from claiming credit for the wounds. In fact, no one can figure out how the PCs could have inflicted these wounds.

Krixix: It was the person I paid before – no, just kidding.
Maldrake: They didn’t want their money guy to die before you have a chance to pay.
Krixix: “I told you I wanted that bow!”

Krixix is stalked and licked in his sleep, though the half-orc snarls at everyone to get back to work. They attempt to loot the bodies, Fallout 4 style, as the caravan master warns them to watch themselves.

DM: “And don’t piss off Bog Luck, either. He’s in a bad enough mood.”
Eben: Did you say Bog Luck?
DM: Is that in-character or our of character?

Eben shoots the DM a phenomenally dirty look which makes the rest of the group crack up, and Eben reluctantly gets confirmation that indeed, Bog Luck is the name of the half-orc – one of the three names on Eben’s hit list. Krixix attempts to argue that his savagery in shooting the guy at a drop of a hat should win him some badass creed as the laborers discuss the fight.

Maldrake: Are they talking about how he hid? How he ran?
DM: Yeah, you aren’t exactly coming out the best of these tales.
Krixix: Come on!
Thalynmar: Hey, you’re playing your character well. Problem is, that’s a coward.
DM: It’s good that you shot him, it’s bad that you ran.
Krixix: I jumped back out! …with a dagger to his throat, when he was dead…
DM: You put a dagger to his throat, and you’re very brave for doing so, I assure you.

Jamna Gleamsilver reminds the group that they still need to figure out what’s going on with the money. They peel their eyes, while Krixix cursts at his waste of poison. She also slings a friendly arm around Krixix’s shoulders.

Maldrake: Oh, she intercepted the heal!
DM: “It was rather foolish of you to provoke that fight, but very brave!”
Krixix: “Yeah, intelligence isn’t exactly my forte.”
Thalynmar: (distantly) “No duh!” And that’s coming from a dum-dum.
DM: “I’m actually very grateful that you did that. I always enjoy having a life debt I can call in later.”
Maldrake: Oh ho ho ho ho!
DM: She pats you on the shoulder and then wanders back off.

Krixix is sad, while Maldrake envisions Thalynmar resurrecting Krixix automatically every single time the halfling dies. Maldrake questions if they had distinguished themselves in battle at all.

DM: You guys are reasonably respected. You did a good job fighting off some bullywugs.
Maldrake: …what the fuck is a bullywug?!
DM: (showing him the picture of a bullywug)
Maldrake: We fought Frog from Chrono Trigger?! You bastard!

Eben heads into the roadhouse proper, and spies the crates they are concerned about being sent into the warehouse. Bog Luck does not recognize him, which is something he was curious about.

Eben: I’ll speak out in his head again.
Thalynmar: (miming madness and torment)
Eben: Yeah, voice of Cthulhu or whatever. He hasn’t expressed any desire to stop doing so. In my defense I don’t know how the voice sounds in his head.
DM: His nostrils bleed every time you speak to him, but you don‘t notice that.
Eben: He probably just has a dwarven condition. “The pit boss is a member of the Cult. A not insignificant member. He has to die.”
Thalynmar: “That’s quite a large charge.”
Eben: “Sulesdag is not here to speak up for him…”

Eben emphasizes that killing the three people he knows are responsible is the sole purpose he has on this plane. His current semi-undead state makes this even more of a burning desire, and what holds him to existence.

DM: If you come back again, you’ll come back with the wrong list, and you’ll be constantly trying to get revenge on a loaf of bread, a stick of butter, a gallon of milk…
Thalynmar: “And how do ye know this man is with the cult?”
Eben: (a very long pause) “He murdered my family.”
Thalynmar: “Ah. Are ye certain? A dumb question, I know. I have to be sure.”
Maldrake: So you’re the Bride?!

Maldrake plots to get the Cult shut down on a lack of dwarven workers being a violation of civil rights, but Eben is more direct: Bog Luck must die. But he’s clear he doesn’t have to be by his hand.

Maldrake: We’re just walking around, all of a sudden you just see your mental list. (making a scratching-off noise and gesture)
DM: ‘Quest completed, what the fuck?’
Eben: Why are Maldrake and Krixix and Vivianne all saying ‘gratz’?

Thalynmar brings Maldrake up to speed; the DM jokes that their Dwarvish is just the word ‘ach’ repeatedly, leading to Thalynmar pooping on his chest in the middle of the night. But where is the treasure all going?

Krixix: Raven, go challenge him to a fight.
Raven: Uh, no? After that last fight…
Krixix: Hey, that last fight turned out okay in our favor. Although now I’m indebted to a psychopath…

Krixix bemoans his failure to stand up to Jamna, having of course come up with a cool thing to say long after the fact. They group ponders out what to do about both killing Bog Luck and following the treasure – Krixix suggests poison. Eben decides to seek out Jamna, locating her in the kitchen.

Eben: Who else is here?
DM: At the moment, just the cook. Cranky looking old man who’s moving around muttering incessantly as he works.
Eben: Is he crazy?
DM: He doesn’t SOUND crazy, he just sounds like a guy who has no internal monologue and a lot to say.
Thalynmar: ‘Money.’
Eben: ‘Me money.’
Maldrake: ‘If only I had me money I wouldn’t be stuck cookin’ for these bastards.’
DM: “Big old fight outside, I don’t get to watch it, nooo, old Gristle Pete’s stuck inside, making food for them—“
Eben: Did he say Gristle Pete?
DM: That’s what he said.
Eben: Awesome! His name is Gristle Pete.
DM: “Bad enough I can’t get enough sleep, critters banging and whispering and knocking at all hours… rats all over, it’s a disgrace how they’re doin’ ol’ Gristle Pete…”
Maldrake: Please tell me he’s talking ALL third person. ‘They don’t know how to treat Gristle Pete, Gristle Pete don’t like this. Gristle Pete. Is Angry.”
Eben: I’ll pause at a respectful distance and quietly ask if I can join her….

With delicacy and tact, Eben gently commissions Jamna for Bog Luck’s assassination, offering to pay her a favor to be determined in the future. He lacks the coin, and is a bit worried he can’t afford her…

Eben: “I would appreciate, for a small fee, you keep the request to yourself. Not that it wouldn’t be in both our best interests for you not to go blathering it to anyone here.”
Maldrake: ‘Don’t worry, Gristle Pete won’t tell anybody!’
DM: Gristle Pete doesn’t appear to have heard a word of this.
Maldrake: I just love the idea of you two saying this, and Gristle Pete just keeps backing up…
DM: ‘Gristle Pete’s hearing some interesting stuff here! Gristle Pete can’t BELIEVE what he’s hearing!’
Eben: I thought he would have had too much fun if I had done this in her head…

Eben attempts to deceive her, bemoaning that they’ll have to sell the speeder; the DM reminds him that Krixix sold it last session to pay for the watch on the cultists. It turns into fond imagining of them selling a ship to Luke and buying a holocron, completely derailing canon. Jamna agrees, and she and Eben debate terms for a bit.

DM: “In the meantime, keep your ears peeled.”
Maldrake: (peeling his ears off while screaming)
DM: “In the meantime, keep your ears metaphorically peeled.”
Eben: “My people are working on it as Gristle Pete speaks.” Should I speak in Gristle Pete’s head? He probably won’t even recognize it’s not his own voice.
DM: ‘Gristle Pete’s hearing weird things in Gristle Pete’s head.’

Maldrake now faces a conundrum: how to pump Bog Luck for information when everyone knows too much? He decides to approach and talk to the half-orc, finding him directing crates into the warehouse and some into the strong room. They exchange some brief talk over the history of the road, and Maldrake makes a quick Deception check to hide his motives, apparently successfully.

DM: You notice that all of the crates he’s sending into the strong room are the ones you’re most interested in, the ones that have come from down south. Definitely not road supplies in there. The trickle of laborers has stopped at this point and are looking at you. “Next one! Look out, this one’s going to be a full load,” and he steps outside.
Maldrake: I follow him out. “Can I give you a hand, or do these laborers got it?”
DM: “Let them, it’s what they’re paid for…”

Bog Luck assigns them some rooms, as Maldrake casually makes some inquiries of the crate distribution. The half-orc offers to lock up his valuables in the strong room, explaining there are no locks on any of the room doors because they froze up. Thalynmar, apparently quite taken with the DM’s voice for this NPC, keeps bursting into inappropriate boisterous chuckling.

Maldrake: I’m trying to think if there’s anything I could put in there that could help me. I do not have a tiny robot. I do not have a tiny psicrystal…
DM: “Please store my slave,” and you hand him Krixix.
Thalynmar: That’s a good way to do it, though…
Maldrake: Let’s paint him jade, and be all, ‘Here, store my halfling jade statue.’
DM: ‘Hey, this thing’s awful breathing, isn’t it?’
Maldrake: ‘Not at all! Here, look!’ (miming violence) ‘Urg! Perfect strong jade.’
Thalynmar: You could put him in a sack…
DM: Thalynmar, your hand rises, and a bolt of flame shoots out!
Thalynmar: Killing him.
DM: (miming beating a sack with a shover, Monty Burns-style) “Stop! Scaring! Bog Luck!”
Thalynmar: We don’t have a bag of holding, do we…

They sincerely contemplate this plan, provided they can find SCUBA gear to give Krixix oxygen to survive. The DM points out that even in this unlikely circumstance, Krixix can’t open the bag from the inside.

Thalynmar: So we need to put him in a bag of holding, and put that in another larger sack with Vivianne, so she can open the mouth after she’s put in the stock room.
DM: Your idea is terrible!
Vivianne: I don’t want to be put in a bag.
Maldrake: Look, they’re putting people in crates. It’s a crate. We’ll have him, Krixix, in the crate—
DM: “Please stop discussing your plans in front of me.”
Thalynmar: We’re going to fold Krixix into a cube…

Maldrake apologizes for Krixix, but Bog Luck was entertained by the fight! He makes a mild joke, leading Thalynmar to furiously laugh.

DM: “What is wrong with your dwarf!? He’s just standing over there every once in a while—“
Thalynmar: Just starts guffawing.
Maldrake: “…That’s a new thing.”
Thalynmar: Look, I haven’t played him in a month, I gotta remember how I played him.
DM: Eben messed with his head a little too much, now he can’t stop guffawing inappropriately.

The transcription craps out for a bit. Vivianne decides she IS willing to go into the crate for everyone, for some reason… Maldrake is still trying to figure out how to get someone inside the strong room.

Maldrake: What kind of shrinking potion… ‘Here’s your shrinking potion, and here’s your UNshrinking potion. DON’T lose this one.”
DM: ‘This is just a mushroom that says ‘eat me’!’
Thalynmar: This mushroom just says ‘eat a dick!’
DM: That’s how you grow!
Maldrake: I don’t know if putting stuff in there will actually help us. I’m trying to inner-monologue here…
DM: ‘Gristle Maldrake don’t know how to put stuff in there that’ll help us.’

The last wagon is unloaded, and everyone is heading off to Gristle Pete’s kitchen for food. The discussion gets really, really, REALLY weird.

Maldrake: So we want to send Krixix in? His, uh, track record is…
Thalynmar: About 50-50, I think we should give him a chance.
Krixix: My sneaking record’s not terrible.
DM: Your dying record isn’t so hot, and your cultist befriending record not so stellar either…
Thalynmar: Your befriending record is pretty bad in general…

Their somewhat indelicate conversation attracts harmless attention – Gristle Pete wanders by, muttering stuff.

Thalynmar: “Thanks, Gristle Pete.”
DM: “How’d you know my name?!”
Eben: “I TOLD IT TO HIM!”
DM: “AAAAGH! Gristle Pete’s got no feces left inside him!”
Thalynmar: “It’s done!” Heh heh, it’s ready.
Maldrake: Gristle Pete’s spaghetti!
DM: You’re leaving here tonight, so you’ll only get it once in a lifetime…

A discussion of the strong room inexplicably leads to altering Star Wars canon again. As night falls, no one leaves the kitchen for a few hours till Gristle Pete kicks everyone out.

DM: Do you guys go as well?
Maldrake: Yeah. I don’t want to get hit by a broom. You’ll be like, ‘you take 5d6 broom damage’.
DM: Well, each bristle is 1d2…
Krixix: I’m gonna slip into a corner while he’s chasing everybody out—
Thalynmar: It sounded like ‘slip into a coma’!

Krixix quickly establishes the kitchen does not connect to the warehouse and recants his actions. He heads down to the warehouse, sneaking inside only to find it quite dark within.

Krixix: They got no torches burning? What’s the moon?
DM: Uh, outside.
Maldrake: Ha! The moon has destroyed the roof to make its presence known! I’m gonna work on my penmanship in my room. (miming writing) “I have nothing to do with Krixix. He is not my ally.”
Thalynmar: “Neither do I.”
Krixix: Thanks for backing me up, guys.
DM: “Neither does Gristle Pete.”
Krixix: I’m gonna make my way over to the entrance.
DM: There you sit in the darkness. It’s dark.
Krixix: I’m gonna try picking the lock.
DM: You’re at disadvantage, because it’s dark. You’re picking the lock in the dark.
Krixix: I’m using my thieves’ tools, though.
DM: Okay. It’s still dark. I’m just saying.

Krixix finally takes the hint and deploys a hooded lantern, as he castigates the DM for his inevitable ruling that someone sees the light. Maldrake predicts he’ll botch a lantern-lighting roll and set the warehouse on fire.

DM: You get your proficiency bonus because you’re proficient in thieves’ tools.
Vivianne: Or is he?
DM: Oh, well. Vivianne’s called it into question so you’re going to have to prove you’re proficient in thieves’ tools.
Raven: You need to take the thieves’ tool test. That’ll be a five page exam, one hour.
Krixix: 21 with my proficiency.
DM: You activate the trap. Acid spews out into your -- (unable to hold a straight face any longer) Click.

Krixix blows a Perception check, then ducks into the strong room and shuts the door behind him. He immediately turns and finds himself right next to three lizardmen! Initiative is rolled!

Krixix: Oh god damn it.
Maldrake: I’m sorry, he said there were no guards, he didn’t say anything about fucking lizardmen!
Krixix: I got a 7. All three of them are going to attack me with their 6 attacks each because they have tails with three spikes on them.
Eben: Stegolizardmen.
Krixix: Then they’re going to attack with ten attacks, with each claw—
Eben: And one of them has a broom!
Thalynmar: “Gristle Pete doesn’t think you should be here!”

A lizardman goes first, and misses Krixix with a claw, but bites him for 6. Eben bitterly predicts their murder, but the other PCs point out that the lizardfolk were just as surprised as he was. A second lizardman misses!

Krixix: I would like to smash my hooded lantern on the ground, try to cause a fire.
DM: (bursting into laughter) Okay. I’m fine with that.
Thalynmar: Ah, the Krixix factor.

Someone starts playing circus music as Krixix smashes the lantern at the lizardfolk’s feets, after which he Disengages and runs back into the warehouse. A lizardman hurls a javelin at him and wounds him, after which the first one tries to tackle him!

Krixix: Is this fire not helping me in any way whatsoever? I was hoping by causing an explosive fire at their feet—
Maldrake: It was a lantern, not a fireball!

The lizardman grapples Krixix, but fails to shove him down. The second lizardfolk busies himself stomping out the fire, while Krixix fails to escape.

Krixix: I’m going to pull out my whistle of gold-colored wood, start screaming rape, and blow my rape whistle.
Maldrake: I don’t even know what the whistle does.
Krixix: It’s a whistle!

The DM calls for Perception checks, then reels in shock at his own rolls.

DM: Wow. Wow. Wow.
Thalynmar: Did they roll a natural 20?
Krixix: They rolled 20s.
DM: No. The entire rest of the compound is oblivious, as I roll two 20s to see what they come up with, and double-1 both of them.
Maldrake: I rolled… uch. I rolled a 1 too.
DM: Your Greatsword of Warning fails to go off.
Maldrake: It’s outside of 30 feet!
Lualyrr: I got a 4, I didn’t notice a damn thing. Sometimes my luck fails.
Thalynmar: A 15. 14, I’m sorry, I have a -1.
DM: Oh, you were so close! Your minus bit you. Vivianne, you hear a whistle and it stirs you from the slumber you were about to drop off into. You recognize this whistle, you heard it blown the last time Krixix did something stupid.

Silence.

Vivianne: What?
DM: Vivianne hears nothing!
Eben: Krixix dies!
DM: You heard a whistle. It’s bad.
Krixix: She thinks it’s a birdy.
Maldrake: I rolled a 1, so sadly I’m not helpful. (rolling) I rolled a natural 20 NOW…
Thalynmar: You should have been more bitter about it.
DM: “A Perception check, I never roll well on –“ (dissolving into coughing as his voice fails him)
Vivianne: I probably recognize this whistle, because I’ve heard it before.
DM: Yes – I TOLD YOU THAT!
Vivianne: Oh really!
Krixix: Wow.
Thalynmar: You’re breaking him, stop it!

Eben attempts to wake Thalynmar with telepathy, but Maldrake envisions a scenario in which Eben gets stuck in Thalynmar’s dream. Krixix isn’t shoved, but is bitten, fails to escape, gets bitten but not shoved again.
 
Thalynmar: Maybe we should stop sending you in.
Krixix: And I took so much precaution. Seeing how the moon was, making sure I could get in and out quickly and quietly. Finally! 26 to get out of his grip!
DM: You succeed and squirm free!
Eben: But as you do he bites you, for 7 points!
Krixix: Can I disengage and move away?
DM: Yes!
Eben: Another one tackles you!

Krixix reaches the door and immediately gets tackled again. He squirms free and bolts out of the warehouse at last, robustly bleeding. Vivianne spots him, then casts Spiritual Weapon right next to him, scaring the crap out of him. He dives into hiding as the other characters head down.

Maldrake: I’m going to jump down.
DM: Um, the stairs are like 15 feet away.
Maldrake: Well, I was trying to – oh yeah, I’ll go to the stairs.
DM: You can be cool if you want, I’m not trying to disparage you… but it would be easy to go down the stairs.

Thalynmar fails to fall through the world, and in fact beasts the Athletics check and nails the landing. In all this time, the lizardfolk have completely failed to appear. Maldrake begins spinning an elaborate tail of looking for a penny on the ground to throw off any suspicion of why he might be drifting towards the warehouse, then inexplicably bursts into flames. They hear faint sounds within the warehouse.

Krixix: I ran far enough away that everything rest. Like Skyrim, the guy’s got the arrow sticking out of his head, but it’s cool!

Thanks to Maldrake’s proposed rules, everyone starts rolling to see if they poop themselves while farting. Maldrake furiously but quietly interrogates Krixix. In some of them step, discovering Sulesdag as a Scooby Doo villain. Maldrake hangs out by the door, still furiously pretending to look for something on the ground. They creep forward as something in the warehouse falls, and then Thalynmar listens at the strong room door to hear the shifting of crates!

Vivianne: If you guys wanna open the door, I’ll cast Shatter into the room.
DM: Are you certain you want to cast Shatter into the room full of treasure and valuables.
Krixix: I did try to set it on fire…

But the hour is late, so as they push the door open, the DM vows combat: NEXT TIME!