10 August 2017 @ 09:30 pm

In an extremely unlikely occurrence, two co-GMs have taken the reins to run a game of whimsical ridiculousness!

DM1: We’re going to start off by… uh, kind of going over your characters. What’s your background?
DM2: How did my amethyst cat get here…
Nessa: (mouth cheerfully full) Mow me we mow each mother?
DM1: You will eventually. But this is just kind of like the backgrounds. And everyone can hear because you’ll basically know by then. We can start with…
Colossus: Mer’dovich.
Berevoj: (ridiculous accent) I am Berevoj Sorka! I come from far away country, I do not know what it is, because I haf not been told vere ve are, or vhat ve are doing, but it is from far-away place. I come here with my brother. I follow path of storms, I taught him to follow path of storms. He follows gaud, I follow magic, which flows within me, unlike you lesser but still-good people.
Uldridge: I think your character speaks too well for an 8.
Pumaris: What was your character’s name?
DM2: We’re gonna call you Berry.

The players squabble over how dumb an 8 Intelligence is and file Berevoj away as an arrogant foreign prick.

Uldridge: My name is Uldridge Thornditch. I fight for the poor and steal from the rich. I do everything for the common people. I judge everyone harshly for their crimes, and I judge myself harshly, but nothing can shake my optimistic attitude.
Berevoj: Even the harsh judgment of other.
Uldridge: I will judge you harshly for your low Int, prettyboy.
Colossus: Colossus?
DM2: Colossus the Colossus!
Colossus: Not yet!
Berevoj: Colostomy!
Nessa: Your character’s not smart enough to think of that.
Berevoj: You know, Thalynmar’s got an 8 Intelligence, I don’t see you giving him this shit!
Nessa: Because he’s not talking shit!
Colossus: He comes from a group like a nomad tribe. They’re kind of… jolly savages. Like Conan, except he knows how to have fun.
Berevoj: Warrior Santas.
Colossus: Yeah, that’s pretty good!
Berejov: ‘I wear the beard of my people. My outfit is red because I’ve soaked it in my enemies’ blood.’
Colossus: His tribe was wiped out, so now he’s wandering the land, trying to have as much fun as he can before his time is up. Kind of like a Last of the Mohicans type guy.
Pumaris: I am Pumaris! I come from a great noble family of someplace! I’ve been hold in high revere, and I am interested in the partitions of magic! However, they always make those stupid books too difficult and I was unable to graduate into the school of wizardry. It’s those teachers’ damn fault, they’re so petty and pathetic! So after that I found myself beside my bow, with books in hand, trekking out to prove I am better than those guys!
Dryzenko: (accent only slightly less ridiculous than Berevoj’s) I am Dryzenko Sorka, I come from faraway land with my brother! I am one who worships god of storms!
Berevoj: Whoever that is.
DM2: Zeus!
Dryzenko: My brother is some heathen who got power, he does not know true power until he starts worshipping the right deity. But I’ve come from faraway land to learn and absorb new culture! Eager to meet new friends! Perhaps even new enemy. All is exciting.
Nessa: I go by Nessa. I don’t know much about my history, I’ve always lived in the woods, with the animals of the forest. Just do my thing. I have not spent any time with humans so I’m kind of oblivious to their etiquette and their social expectations.
Pumaris: Wait a minute, I’m going to be stuck with some wood-ranger?
Dryzenko: Wood-druid.
Colossus: Look for the… bear necessities…
Nessa: My ideals are that I believe inquiry and curiosity are the pillars of all progress. I’m still seeking the enlightenment I pursued in my seclusion, but it still eludes me. I haven’t found my way to enlightenment yet. Unfortunately, I do risk much to uncover a lost bit of knowledge.
DM1: How did you learn to speak Common…?
Berevoj: Wolves also spoke Common. Everything speaks Common.
Uldridge: Have you seen the Jungle Book? Because I’m pretty sure everything in that fucking jungle spoke Common.
Pumaris: Baloo knows English.
Berevoj: Yes, and he also knows how to fly a plane.
Uldridge: That was Project Blackwater. He doesn’t remember that.

Nessa explains that she met other druids who taught her; Uldridge explains that of 300 bears given black water, only one learned how to read an altimeter.

Dryzenko: I imagine him finding a temple in the jungle, just made a wish, and that’s how Tail Spin came about.
Berevoj: There was an accident with a Deck of Many Things…
DM1: We’re going to start the story. You guys explained your backgrounds, briefly, you have it set in your mind where you come from, all that jazz.
DM2: You know where you come from but you DON’T KNOW WHERE YOU’RE GOING!
DM1: So you’re in your village, wherever you come from, and one day you’re minding your own business, doing what you need to survive, and the light – the sky opens up, and you don’t understand why. It’s not a cloudy day, it’s like a god is coming from the sky and you see a hand that you might think very far away, pointing. And you now have a circle of light upon you.
DM2: On your forehead.
Uldridge: I was thinking Monty Python, it was going to crush us.
Berevoj: “We should not trust this, it is not from cloudy sky.”
DM1: Let me speak, please.
Berevoj: I was roleplaying, do you not want that?
Uldridge: Not while she’s talking!
DM1: You see the giant hand point at you, and you feel –
DM2: Warm and loved!
DM1: Light. Warmth. Like you’re safe. You look around, wondering if anyone sees this, and you see there’s light around you. You try to push it away but it follows you. You run, you move, you throw one of your items. It doesn’t follow your item, but it follows you.
Nessa: What did I throw? I got a torch. Can I throw a torch?
DM1: You pick it back up. That was an example. For people who are surrounded by people, or in town, all these people see this happen. They don’t see the hand, but they see the light around you.
Nessa: You all are so screwed. Spawn of Satan. The villagers are going to attack you,
DM1: You see the light—
DM2: (singing) I saw the light!
DM1: Can you not? Please? You’re supposed to be GMing with me!
DM2: I’m helping.
Berevoj: She’s helping as much as she’s capable of.
DM1: You have this light around you, and if you’re around people—
DM2: You’re chosen by the god!
DM1: They start freaking out.
Pumaris: Of course I was chosen by the gods! I am the superior one! FINALLY someone recognizes my greatness!
Colossus: I’m going to like this arrogant Pumaris.
Nessa: I’m going to love this character!
Colossus: Like – Pumaris’s heel-turn has happened! How many sessions in before the party civil war?
Berevoj: ‘We should sign accords. They are for safety of all.’

NPCs around everyone continue to freak out, declaring the group to be the chosen of the gods! The light cannot be obscured – Berevoj dubs them to be Exalted, which the DMs bafflingly agree to. The conversation gets weird.

Berevoj: Are we lifted into the sky?
DM2: No!
Berevoj: CAN we be lifted into the sky?
DM2: NO!

Royal guards notice most of them, and approach them to take them away. Religion rolls ensue to try to figure this out.

Pumaris: …I apparently skipped that class.
Berevoj: Wonder why you didn’t graduate.
DM1: The brothers might be the only ones that aren’t completely aware of this tradition. But if you rolled you found out information, you understand what I’m about to explain. So… you all – so this plot of, I guess, nation that you serve under, you live under—
Bervoj: You are passing through…
DM1: Yes. It follows a certain religion. They follow—
DM2: We’re just using the Roman pantheon for convenience.
DM1: We are, yeah. So your god is probably Zeus, because thunder rain—
Nessa: Thor.
DM1: Or Thor.
Uldridge: That’s a different area…
DM2: Roman, so Jupiter…
Berevoj: ‘I regret ever teaching you about religion, you keep turning into things to fuck them.’
DM1: What was the name of the… Darnassus?
DM2: Dionysus.
Berevoj: God of wine!
Nessa: Goddess of wine!
DM1: Dionysus is the god that the capital follows and respects.
Dryzenko: They’re a bunch of lushes!
Berevoj: Now we know why we came here.
DM1: How the tradition goes, is, there’s a harvest every year, and once one is greater, about every three years, the land celebrates by the god choosing and putting light on the chosen ones they liked. They’re gathered and brought into the capital to celebrate and play games.

In the background, Bervoj demands more appearances from Priapus, god of erections (complete with salute), but the group finds themselves encountering guards and townsfolk who are eager for them to reach the capital for this celebration!

DM1: The townsfolk kind of tell you, “You should go here because you’ve been chosen. You can’t avoid this or you’re going to be put to death if you don’t do this.”

Nessa questions how the heck this is going to work for her out in the forest, and is told a druid circle will find her. Berevoj and Dyrzenko question what Zeus’s will would be, then shrug and say he’s probably cool with it. Nessa discovers Dionysus is male and is shocked.

DM1: The god that could have chosen anyone chose you!
DM2: He chose you!
DM1: What makes you so special? What did he see in you?
Berevoj: Well duh.
Pumaris: He noticed ME.
DM1: Duh, exactly.

Berevoj lampshades that they’re going to fight in the arena to become the king’s lieutenant. The DMs emphasize that one way or another they’re going to be sacrificed, either by playing games or by getting killed. The players regard each other skeptically over how sketchy this is.

Dryzenko: “Like drawn on paper.”
Berevoj: “Wax paper. Like one would wrap sandvich in.”
Dryzenko: “Ooh, yes.”
Berevoj: “Brother. Let’s go get sandvich.”
DM1: Poor Nessa was brought in –
DM2: Poor Nessa is utterly lost.
DM1: Totally confused, doesn’t know what’s going on. One of the druids was kind enough to go with you and stay with you as long as they could…

The DMs hadn’t come up with a name; Berevoj points out the random name generator on the DM screen, but despite this the DMs still take forever to come up with one.

DM1: We’re gonna name him Bob in this corner. He’s Bob.
DM2: Bob the druid. (horrible voice) “It’s a really great honor to be here with you, Nessa.” He’s got a voice like a four-pack-a-day smoker.

Nessa relates a story of terrifying her child. The DMs, who have been paying little attention to the banter elsewhere, turn to ask where the Sorka brothers are.

Berevoj: Getting a sandwich.
DM1: You’re getting a sandwich.
DM2: In the capital city.
Nessa: So basically you checked in, and the guard said, “Okay, we’re here, we’re here, bye.”
Berevoj: “Yes, ve vould like sandvich also vorthy of chosen of gods?”
Nessa: ‘God will be paying for this.’
DM2: There’s like two hero sandwiches.
Berevoj: How appropriate.
DM1: You’re given food and water and any drink you want and you’re allowed to sit there and spend as much time as you want.
Nessa: I’d like alfalfa sprouts, please.
Dryzenko: “People in this land are very nice.”
Berevoj: “If you have circle on head.”
Colossus: If you have circle on head! This Slavic half-elf thing is just ridiculous.
DM1: As you guys are eating, one of the head guards walks up to you—
DM2: “Gentlemen.”
DM1: She bows before both of you and goes, “Gentlemen. You have been chosen, and I am so honored to be in your presence. But it is my duty to make sure that you obey.”
Nessa: Or die.
DM1: “Are you new here, are you from here?”
Berevoj: “Ha ha ha! Observe our ridiculous accents!”
Dryzenko: “Also clothing does not seem to match local custom.”
Uldridge: You’re in the town that is literally, “Your Country Town.”
Dryzenko: Little Sorka.

The brothers become more suspicious of the ceremony as the guard explains it to them, then eat their sandwiches. Berevoj gives the guard the customary cheek-kiss goodbye, but the guard keeps talking and threatening them…

Berevoj: “Please don’t make me regret customary cheek-kiss goodbye.”
Dryzenko: “We can retract it, you do not want to see how we retract it.”
Berevoj: ‘This is how we say goodbye in Germany.’
DM2: “I’ll be waiting outside to escort you for your safety to the tower.”
Berevoj: ‘Is there circle involved?’

Uldridge, asked where he is, explaisn that he’s trying to work his new status to convince or possibly trick people into paying him money he can then funnel to the poor (as is his Thing).

Uldridge: I can touch you for money.
Nessa: Ha! Gigolo.

Uldridge too is taken to the tower, passing food to the kids as he goes. Pumaris, who happened to be talking himself up among nobles at the time, gets a procession to the capital in incredible style.

Pumaris: I’ll of course be in front, shining with my brilliance and glory, which is quite literal at this moment.
DM2: Then they get to the gate, and they’re like, “Good luck with the humans, chump!” and ride off, and there you are left with the guards on your horse.

Pumaris establishes he is a high elf, not a pie elf, and the guards take him into the capital (which neither DM has named, it turns out). Colossus… shows up somehow. And they all are present!

Nessa: So Bob the Druid brought me here, dropped me off, said, “Go with the guards.”
DM1: Bob is still with you.
Nessa: Bob is with me because he’s getting free food and free drinks because he’s associated with me…
DM2: You’re all being brought to the temple.
DM1: It takes… three days altogether—
DM2: For everyone to actually get there.
Berevoj: (miming a struggling walk) ‘It’s right there! Why!?”
DM2: You’re actually being put up.
Berevoj: (holding his hands up)
DM2: You’re getting room and board at the temple.
Berevoj: Oh, PUT up.
Dryzenko: But does anybody put out?
Nessa: My RP has rubbed off on everybody else. Pumaris has become an asshole, Dryzenko just wants to get some from other every other character…
Dryzenko: No!
Nessa: My RP has rubbed off.
Dryzenko: I’m glad you noticed you have a problem.

About two dozen people in total have been marked, leaving the temple of Dionysus ridiculously bright. Nuns and priests greet them, respectful but not in awe way the common folk are, and this is at least comforting to them in the narration. The party at last meets!

DM1: This is kind of your chance to do what you want.
DM2: Roleplay with each other!
DM1: What do you do? Do you talk to each other, do you not talk to each other? I mean, of course Nessa is probably not going to, if anything just huddle against Bob and be like, “Protect me!”
Nessa: I don’t want him to protect me, he dragged me here! I’m with Bob because he’s the only one I can SEMI-trust here, but like…
Dryzenko: ‘You’re just some fucking DRUID I just met!’
Nessa: Right! He just showed up and said, “I’m Bob the Druid,” I said, “What the fuck kind of name is Bob?” He’s like, “Come on, we’re going to the capital.”

The Sorka brothers cracks out their instruments, while Bob smokes a stogie in the background. They proudly proclaim they possess WEIRD foreign instruments, the dulcimer and the zither!

Uldridge: Did you guys just pick weird ones just to have them?
Dryzenko: No! I actually looked for an Eastern-European type.
Uldridge: Now did you listen to them first to make sure they weren’t bad? ‘Here, listen—‘ BAW BEE BOW BAW.
Bervoj: For the record, my minotaur played the bagpipes.
Uldridge: No, that’s good to some people. You guys found the two instruments that no one in Europe enjoyed. Played by assholes over the centuries.

Their music helps break the tension in the room, even as someone renders it as a kazoo theme for some reason. Pumaris relate the story of how he got in trouble playing the kazoo in the parking lot of an official state chess tournament, which may be the nerdiest thing ever.

Uldridge: I’ll make myself big here. I’m also small, so…
Dryzenko: Enlarge Person! Enrage! Mwaaaaaaah!
Berevoj: Where’d he get the enrage from?
Dryzenko: Don’t know don’t care!
Nessa: I’m picturing it and he looks awesome.

Pumaris flaunts his Mage Hand, as the last remnants of the chosen trickle or are dragged in. The head priest pops up (Berevoj again demands more time given to Priapus), and the guards start herding everyone into the worship chamber where they will be given a speech.

DM1: “We’re about to educate you.”
DM2: “We’re about to reveal to you the mysteries of mighty Dionysus!”
Dryzenko: What is this, a Scientology thing?
Bervoj: Imhotep… Imhotep…
Nessa: Send them back for re-education!

Uldridge sits near the back, is unable to see a thing, and thus completely misses the Naked Halfling Ladies of Dionysus. The Sorka brothers sit up front and meet Colossus! They wind up discussing Dryzenko’s call to the priesthood.

Colossus: “So when Zeus pointed his finger at you…”
Dryzenko: “He did not come from sky, it was more like vision.”
Berevoj: “Goose was involved, wasn’t it?”
Dryzenko: “Uh, do not like talk about goose. Goose and cow, we don’t talk about too much.”
Berevoj: “Oh yes. Do not ask about minotaur, that is taboo.”
Colossus: “You know minotaurs?”
Berevoj: “I just said! Vhat de fuck?”

Uldridge contemplates switching to a French accent, identifying himself as Don Karnage; Berevoj furiously points out that Don Karnage had a SPANISH accent. This can go only one way.

Uldridge: WHY WAS HE TRYING to take over Cape Suzette anyway?!
Bberevoj: That was where the MONEY was!
Nessa: Because Kit Cloudkicker was his.. son or something. A former pirate who decided to leave him, and that was unaccepted.
Berevoj: Yeah, till they forgot about it afterwards.

Colussus relates that he was not at home when his tribe was slain, and the three ruminate that the conversation has become awkward with three separate and vastly different pronunciations.

DM1: It takes some time to get all the people seated… and to cooperate, essentially.
Colossus: Still having to give the beatdown to some of them.
Nessa: They dragged in the last guy unconscious. Clockwork Orange style, they have his eyes propped open with a metal rod.
Berevoj: You see them raising some guy as a zombie in the back.
DM2: There’s a halfling chick being brought in in chains.
Nessa: She was in prison when she got the mark.
DM2: Yes, exactly.
Berevoj: Put there by Krixxix, who was all right with that.
Pumaris: “Wow, hey, they weren’t kidding about ‘show up or die’.”
Berevoj: “Still. Sketched-on.”
DM1: So everyone does gather, and a very old man—
DM2: He’s got the beard, the mustache—
Nessa: Gandalf!
Dryzenko: (raising his hand)
DM2: “Yes, my son?”
Dryzenko: “How old are you?”
DM2: “Ninety-five years old, my son.”
Dryzenko: “Are you a human?”
DM2: “Yes.”
Dryzenko: “Excellent.”
Berevoj: “Very old for a human.”
Dryzenko: “Aye.”
Berevoj: “He should be very proud.”
DM2: “I am.”
Uldridge: No. Every day is pain.
Berevoj: “I propose we drink to this old man’s health.”
Dryzenko: “Any time of day is a good day to drink.”
Nessa: These two are going to be fun.
Berevoj: “Why is no one else drinking…?”

Berevoj questions if this is a pyramid scheme. The old man approaches the podium. Nessa, as is her wont, lobs a Create Water at his feet.

DM2: All that does is make the hem of his robes wet.
Nessa: But he’s old, he might not be able to walk with that much water weight.

The group is reduced to tears of laughter by this insane logic, although Berevoj takes a moment to echo Nessa’s sentiments from earlier.

Berevoj: ‘Why does everyone JUDGE me, I made this character so sweet and innocent?!’
Nessa: No, that’s out of character. I’m not nice and innocent.

The old man thanks them for their patience, as both the DMs speak for him in turn. Berevoj questions how many personalities he has and is stripped of his DKP, reducing him to agony that he won’t be able to buy Moroes’ pocketwatch. The old man introduces himself as Father, the hierarch of the church. He gives them a little explanation that also indicates Dionysus will remove their markings basically when he’s good and ready. The celebration commemorates the ending of a great drought.

DM1: “There will be a week’s time where you show your strengths and why Dionysus has chosen you. And it is only a great honor, of course. As the games go on you show your strengths and what brought you here, and people coming from all over this word—“
DM2: “To watch you!”
DM1: “To watch you. And see why you were brought here. And if you’re talented enough you have opportunities to go to school… internships…”
DM2: “Be richly rewarded somehow.”
DM1: “Somehow.”
Berevoj: (raising his hand)
DM2: “…Yes?”
Berevoj: “What if we lose game?”
DM1: “It depends on—“
DM2: “How badly you lose.”
DM1: “How badly you lose.”
Berevoj: “Is horrible death possibility?”
DM2: “Yes.”
Berevoj: “Sketcher and sketcher.”
Pumaris: “What kind of games are we talking about here? Something tells me we’re not talking about a round of mobile poker.”
DM2: “Combat.”
DM1: “It is combat.”
DM2: “At least in part.”
DM1: “At least in part.”
DM2: “Your strategy.”
DM1: “Strategy.”
Berevoj: “Echo in room…”
Dryzenko: “Against whom?”
DM2: “Against your environment and possibly each other.”
Colossus: PVE/PVP.

Uldridge puts his hand up to ask a question, remembers he’s a halfling and all the way in the back, and has to climb someone’s shoulders to verify that they have no choice. The old man tells them they can choose what they do, and they have a week to learn and prepare. All his insistence that this is nothing to worry about and good times does nothing to alleviate the PCs’ concerns, even as he sells up that everyone will be honored to see them and host them. Berevoj raises a hand.

DM1: “Yes?”
Berevoj: Oh, I’m just heiling.
Colossus: Hey!
DM1: All right. That’s cool.

The transcriber commits crimes which will not appear in the transcription, then cackles about it. The old man continues to try to sell how awesome this privilege is and how much they really don’t want to have to murder everyone.

DM2: …I like how you make it sound so sinister, DM1.
DM1: Yeah.
Colossus: Don’t go to sleep!
Nessa: You WILL be happy. You WILL enjoy yourself.
Colossus: ‘You have all been selected.. for the fifth celebration…’
Berevoj: ‘The fifth Tri-Wizard Tournament.’
Pumaris: You know, this is starting to remind me of the Hunger Games?

The group is slightly in disbelief at this comment, because they’ve been making nonstop references to that oeuvre for half an hour now.

DM2: Yes, Pumaris. Thank you.
Uldridge: We’re gonna be taken to an island for Mortal Kombat, guys.

The players are in a fairly weird place, not certain if the game requires them to question this tradition and deal with it or if they should just roll with the campaign framing device. A shocking number of people declare themselves to be from the Sorka Bros.’ country, which is apparently Spartacus. A massive squabble erupts over how the old man is blessing them and if it’s personal. It gets weird.

Uldridge: Both cheeks. ALL cheeks. Are kissed.
Berevoj: “If religious leader is high enough, kissing ensues, yes.”
Nessa: Only on little children.

Their week officially begins, though they are told not to leave the city. The group merrily encourages Nessa to be desperate enough to try anyway.

Dryzenko: (old man voice) ‘Orgy is in hall 8.’ (miming dropping his trousers) ‘I’ll be there…’
Uldridge: I know what my character’s doing, at least for the next couple of days.
Dryzenko: (Great Escape theme)
Berevoj: As the gentle tones of Morgan Freeman narrate your escape…

A weird conflation of Shawshank and Great Escape ensues. Dryzenko eagerly anticipates a river of poop, and no one is sure if they want him to mean that in or out of character. Uldridge goes to gather information about these events… and what happened to previous winners. Spoilers: they become the avatar of the dwarven god, then go into the big wicker thing. The Sorkas, figuring that awesome new people will come to meet them, immediately take off for the nicest tavern – to the tune of the Great Escape. (Berevoj is stripped of further DKP for actually playing the tune. Then everyone is, for unclear reason.)

Nessa: It’s like the Hunger Games.

Again, there is no possible response. Uldridge’s research turn up that there were a few deaths in previous games – in the first, three of twenty died and five won, for example. Winners are very rich and scattered across all walks of life, nursing their fame.

DM1: As the week goes on, you guys are educated and kind of informed – some of the older winners that are still in the city, they will talk to you and explain everything.
DM2: They bring in special judges and trainers to help you out, blah blah blah…

The DMs strongly hint that they should join groups conveniently sized to the number of players, because grouping in those numbers will surely help them to survive and win.

Berevoj: “Why do we not find large person with muscles and scars?”
Dryzenko: “We will ask him to come with.”
Berevoj: “I will cast. You will cast. He will smash. That will be perfect for everybody. If there is problems, ve vill deal vith it.”
Dryzenko: “It is storm of perfection.”
Uldridge: “Do you need others? I will help. I need a team.”
Berevoj: (mimes looking around in confusion)
Uldridge: “Down here.”
Berevoj: “Oh! I am very sorry. We do not have many people your height in our country.”
Dryzenko: “We do, they’re called children, but don’t mind him.”
Berevoj: “They’re not people.”
Dryzenko: “This is true, they do not become people until they come of age.”
Berevoj: “They must undergo ceremony.”
Uldridge: “I am quite of age, and I will aid you. My arrow does not miss.”
Dryzenko: ‘It may not always strike the thing I meant to strike…’

Uldridge knows where Colossus is to be found, so they accept his signup andset off to find large man.

DM1: Can I get everyone to roll a natural – a natural 20?
Berevoj: I rolled a natural 11.
Dryzenko: What are we rolling for?
Berevoj: We don’t know.
DM1: Okay so, as the week go on, only a few of you guys notice this – the brothers notice this and also Colossus.
Colossus: I rolled an 8.
DM1: Oh, Pumaris notices.
Nessa: Uldridge, you do not notice, even though you’re the best roller of everyone here.

The debate over who notices takes up a surprising amount of time, but the point is, a dark figure watches over them – tall, hooded, and mysterious with horns! Following him is a dwarven woman. The Sorka Bros. discuss in their native tongue.

Berevoj: “Should we perhaps turn tables on these fellows?”
Dryzenko: “Only if necessary.”
Berevoj: ‘Why do you have accent in our native language?’
Dryzenko: ‘Because it’s our native language.’
Berevoj: ‘But we don’t have accents, we speak that fluently!’
Dryzenko: ‘Because I don’t want to drop accent.’

Berevoj ponders putting them to sleep, and they discuss this along with Uldridge. DM1 badgers them for their choice the entire time they discuss. Their language is determined to be Foreigny, then elf, before the name finally gets told to them: Lower Kerstovan. Uldridge complains that Berevoj is too dumb for four languages.

Dryzenko: I turn around and walk towards these people. “Excuse me?”
DM2: “Aye?”
Berevoj: ‘Ah! SLEEP! That was hostile!’
Dryzenko: “We have noticed that you are following us, we are curious as to why.”
DM2: “And here ye go, lad. ‘Oh, follow them, they’ll never notice,’ ye tell me. Well, they noticed. Ye wanna explain yerself to the poor man now?”
DM1: He takes down his hood –
Berevoj: ‘Ah! SLEEP!’
DM1: You see that he is –
DM2: He has mauve skin and black hair.
Berevoj: ‘Ah! SLEEP!’
DM1: And horns. He is a tiefling.
Pumaris: He’s a what?
DM1; He’s a TIFEling.
Berevoj: a TEEFling for those of us who know how to pronounce it.

DM2 lobs dice at Berevoj, but they just end up falling straight into his massive dice pile.

DM1: “My name is Tacet—“
Berevoj: NO! SLEEP! SLEEP! FIREBOLT! FIREBOLT! KICK IT! KICK IT TILL IT DIES! I have experience! Horrible experience!
DM1: “My name is Tacet. This is Eilnys.”
DM2: “Eilnys Goldbludgeon.”
Berevok: Tacet makes Cissy look normal!
Dryzenko: Uh-oh.
Berevoj: Tacet makes Krixxix look conformist!
DM1: Are we done?
Berevoj: (face buried in his hands) I’m scarred for life!
DM1: “We are one of the teams – one of the mentors?”
DM2: “Technically I’m supposed to be a judge, but ye need a babysitter full time, lad.”
DM1: “I don’t need one. You don’t have to follow me around.”
DM2: “That’s a bloody lie and you know it.”

The pair explain Tacet is scouting talent for the games, which leads to Pumaris wandering into the conversation to boast that he’s good at everything, and question that one or both of them are judges?

Berevoj: “Wait, you claim to be good at everything?”
Pumaris: “Why yes I am, of course. Magic—“ And I show the mage hand.
Berevoj: “That is normal mage hand! That is not impressive spell!”
Colossus: Cornish pixies.
Pumaris: “I am an astounding archer and I know how to get around in a swordsfight too.”
Dryzenko: “Our party is grown.”
Berevoj: “We’re not letting this guy in.”
Dryzenko: “He is bit of pompous ass, as they say – a dick! Man with ego can be good!”
Berevoj: “Brother, that was only mage hand spell…”
Dryzenko: “He says he’s good archer.”
Berevoj: “So is him!”
Dryzenko: “We already have archer, what else you bring to party?”
Uldridge: I keep jumping up where you’re pointing. I use my climb check to climb him. I am now your backpack.

Deeming Pumaris to be cushion of pins, they decide to let Pumaris in just to round out their number. Tacet apologizes for his being him, which Pumaris arrogantly accepts, and then suggests they take Nessa into their party.

DM2: “Ye want them to have six? It’s not unheard-of lads, so ye don’t need to be worried about that.”
Nessa: Who’s the sixth? One two… three, he makes four, who’s this sixth.
DM2: Pumaris is 5, you’re the sixth.
Nessa: Oh right. Hiiiii, Pumaris…
Dryzenko: I forget him too sometimes.
Berevoj: Jesus Christ, you’re horrible.

Somehow things get to the point where someone strains their groin. Berevoj chastises Nessa for not appreciating the Thorn Whip spell and druid spells in general. They all abruptly discover Nessa in a nearby fountain, bathing.

Berevoj: “I do not know why druid is in fountain.”
Dryzenko: “Do they bathe in fountains in this city?”
DM1: “Don’t judge a book by its cover, perhaps?”
Berevoj: “Druid is not wearing covers.”
Uldridge: “I think she’s a wild one. Doesn’t know the customs here.”
Pumaris: “I can teach the customs really well.”
Nessa: Are you trying to have sex with my character?
Pumaris: No! I never implied that crap!
Nessa: ‘Yes, I’ll teach her the customs…’
Dryzenko: Man, Pumaris’s character got creepy.
Nessa: ‘I’m the greatest! Come here! Sit on this! Sit on this!’
Pumaris: This conversation is over! I quit!
DM2: Eilnys is going to go over and be like, “Hey lass.”
Berevoj: “I have Sleep spell ready if this gets weird. Is very useful spell at this level.”

Nessa insists on finishing her bath, and somehow they end up slaughtering everyone and Berevoj gets a negative level. They remember their original objective: looking for the large guy. Eilnys threatens to injure Tacet.

DM2: My arm draws back and Tacet’s like, ‘don’t hurt me, don’t hurt me!’
Berevoj: “Ah, I see they know Krixxix Maneuver here too.”

They ask Colossus where he is; he refuses to answer. They specify they’re asking OOC, at which point he replies he’s in the stable. Some audio gets lost here, and we rejoin our heroes luring Colossus onto their team with promises of victory, arrogance, and brew. Berevoj attempts to roleplay, is shut down by DM2, and angrily throws maneuver cards from another character at her while shouting their names. Someone holds up a horse, Zelda-item-get style, to the appropriate fanfare.

DM1: You were invited, because you spent the day with Eilnys and Tacet, you were invited to have dinner with them at the castle.
DM2: A minor feast.
Colossus: Will we also be eating with Golbez?
DM2: No.
Colossus: Oh.
DM1: Many people will be there, other judges—
DM2: A few other judges, we’ll make it a private party.
DM1: Okay!
DM2: Our little cadre of judges. Our chosen judges. So it’s Tacet, Eilnys, Cissy, Aibghalien…
Colossus: Aibghalien?! Oh no.
Dryzenko: “Is this not being unfair? You choosing group ahead of time of judging?”
Uldridge: “Based on what I found out from the others, it is not uncommon for judges to have a favorite team.”
Dryzenko: “Strange, but we shall go with it.”
Uldridge: “This whole thing is weird to me.”

The Sorka Bros. accents are slowly creeping into the minds of others as the game goes on. They all show up at the feast, which is full of choices that make Nessa cry.

DM1: You walk in and you see very recognizable people. Tacet’s in a corner, Eilnys is yelling at him. Who’s surprised?
Berevoj: Not Reed.
DM2: Reed’s not there. Reed’s probably getting drunk to scour the pain of dealing with Tacet from his mind. Aibghalien is there, probably talking to—
Berevoj: Everyone, and no one is listening.
DM1: I don’t know what Cissy’s doing…

Cissy is drunk and passed out, apparently. Or partying. Or fighting. Or abusing Tacet. Spells fly, the group apparently parties like rock stars, and… pattycake erupts? The literal sort, not a euphemism. The game trails off here at the end of the night, as the players discuss what spells they could start lobbing around…