The fries of Tiamat! Salty and fresh – no, never mind. Last time, Krixxix had gotten his rez, while everyone else has been brought back to Waterdeep!

DM: Under heavy guard, with Lord Neverember himself escorting you.
Lualyrr: Uh-oh.
DM: What do you mean, ‘uh-oh’? You’re not under arrest, Lualyrr!
Lualyrr: Under heavy guard, though!
DM: Yes, because they just tried to MURDER you!
Lualyrr: Who?
DM: THE CULT!

They are taken to a side room, fed and watered, then – they reunite with Krixxix!

Raven: Krixxix?!
DM: Yes, he’s familiar.
Eben: But we don’t recognize him now.
DM: Why not?
Eben: Because he’s a half-elf.
DM: He’s not a half-elf.
Eben: You SAID he was a half-elf!
DM: I was JOKING about the reincarnation.
Eben: I didn’t think you were joking.
DM: Oh wow.
Eben: You sounded deadpan serious.
Thalynmar: ‘You’re a half-elf.’
DM: Krixxix, freed from jail, you are escorted to your comrades, who you haven’t seen since they left you to rot in jail.
Thalynmar: (laughing)
DM: I’m just saying.
Eben: Well, we kind of did.
Thalynmar: “I’m glad to see yer name’s been cleared.”
Krixxix: Has it?
Thalynmar: “Why else is he here?”
DM: At this, Lord Neverember looks down at you all – being a tall guy—
Eben: Fucker.
Thalynmar: (looking furious)
DM: You’re a dwarf, Thalynmar, don’t act like he’s not looking down at you.
Eben: I cast Fly, so I can look down upon hiiiiim!
DM: “Krixxix. It is clear the cult finds you a formidable foe, if they would go so far as to attempt to assassinate you while you languished in jail.”
Krixxix: “Yeah, your security was FANTASTIC on top of that, thank you.”
Eben: All they needed was a halfling-slaying arrow.
Maldrake: You mean a regular arrow?
Thalynmar: Or some dragonbreath.
Eben: We got all of that.
Thalynmar: He got all of that the last few times we fought dragons.
DM: “If you are willing to carry on in the fight, we are willing to offer you amnesty for your previous crimes.”
Thalynmar: “Ohhh, you didn’t get cleared.”
Krixxix: Hold on. DEATH doesn’t clear your name?
Eben: You’re getting a pass…
DM: “We brought you back because, frankly, the cult seems to fear you.”
Krixxix: “Goddamn right they will.”
DM: “At this point any advantage we can have against them is one we must take.”
Thalynmar: I’ll siiiiidle up to Krixxix.
Krixxix: Oh no. Oh no! Oh no! Don’t bother, because I’m going to FUCK them up! The Cult is going down! “Thank you, Lord Neverember, I will take you up on your offer. And I am going to kill every one of them. And their children.”
DM: “This is what we like to hear… I suppose… Although you’re unlikely to find their children up there…”
Krixxix: “Don’t matter, I will hunt them down.”
DM: “Let’s not do that, all right—“
Krixxix: “I will kill children thinking it is them.”
DM: “Let’s – no.”
Krixxix: “Ow! My shoulder! My shoulder! Did I go overboard?!”
Raven: Personally, I think Krixxix really would want to kill little children.
Krixxix: Absolutely I would!
Thalynmar: Oh I agree, he’s totally in character.

Now, the Council meets for the final time, and Lord Neverember offers to take them there. Thalynmar inexplicably shoves a pen up his nose. They head into the palace’s depths, reaching the outer council chambers – only for a familiar gnome to pop up out of a seat with a grin.

Krixxix: Wait… I have not slept with this gnome, we’re good! Wait, wait, wait – it’s not Rawlis, is it?
DM: No.
Krixxix: I did not give this gnome herpes, we’re okay.
DM: You recognize someone you have not seen in quite a while. Janma Gleamsilver.
Lualyrr: HER!
Eben: The traveler! She was on us on the way to Baldur’s Gate!
Krixxix: The green lady?
DM: No!
Eben: Not Imsa! Green Imsa!
DM: This is the one Eben put out a hit on Bog Luck for.
Thalynmar: What was that chef’s name?
DM: Chef? …..Cheltonbourne?
Thalynmar: No, that one guy who kept referring to himself in third person.
Eben: That was…
Eben and DM: Gristle Pete.
Thalynmar: That’s it!
DM: You wrote that down? He was utterly unimportant!
Thalynmar: But it was a memorable moment!
Maldrake: Didn’t he own a Waffle House?
DM: I’m super-glad you have that written down. He was the most bit NPC of them all, and yet you’ve given him love.
Eben: Not as much as Blagothkus.
DM: “Lord Neverember! If I could have a moment of your comrades time?” Lord Neverember looks down at her. “I’m afraid we have diplomatic business to attend to.” “Ah yes, and it’s in this capacity that I wish to speak to them! Diplomatic capacity.” At this, a great frown creases Lord Neverember’s brow, as he contemplates what he is about to agree to. But eventually it seems he decides he has no choice. He looks down at you—
Eben: Is there anybody he looks up to?
Thalynmar: Giants.
DM: Elminster.
Maldrake: How tall is he?
DM: He’s about six foot four.
Maldrake: At least he’s not that much taller than me.

Janma takes them into a side chamber and kicks back like she owns the place, leading the players to question just what her status is. She identifies herself as a member of a faction heretofor uninvolved.

DM: “You ever hear of the Black Network?”
Lualyrr: “They’re not any better than Thay!”
DM: “Wow. Wow. I take that personally! I am not an undead-fucking necromancer with tattoos on my head and pretensions the size of an asteroid.”
Lualyrr: “No, you just worship one of the gods of death! That doesn’t make it any better!”
DM: “Details, details. And yes it does. We’re not ruled by a lich, are we? We’re not like, ‘Ooooh, Szass Tamm, he’s the best’.”
Lualyrr: “Oh no, you’re just all, ‘Let’s worship Baal!’ When are you going to kill me? Because that’s what Baal wants.”
DM: “Cult first, cult first. And that’s really what I’m here to discuss, perhaps with more reasoned minds. The Zhentarim are prepared to move. We want in, and our price is simple: your share of Xonthal’s tower, which of course is doing you no good whatsoever.”
Eben: “We have a share?”
DM: “Absolutely! You cleared it out, you own it.”
Eben: Keep what you kill.
Thalynmar: Or banish.
Lualyrr: “I’d rather see you with it, Eben.”
Eben: “I won’t be here when our business is done. Obviously my opinion should not be the one that guides us.”

Maldrake rolls History to get some information on the Zhentarim, which delves deep into Forgotten Realm lore. Lualyrr wants no part of the proposed bargain, while Krixxix just wants to murder cultists.

DM: “If we’re on your side, you’ll be able to kill them more effectively with our help—“
Krixxix: “SOLD. Fine by me. Revenge is the only thing on my mind at this point.”
Maldrake: “Are the Council, the people of this castle, aware of who you are?”
Lualyrr: “I can guarantee… probably not.”
DM: “Oh no, no, I approached openly, otherwise I never would have gotten this charming audience with you all. You don’t think Lord Neverember just hands you randomly off to gnomes who stumble into the inner chambers? Unless… if he does, he’s got problems.”

Janma cheerfully tells them the Council has no idea what her terms are. Thalynmar plays dumb, because IC he kind of is dumb, let’s be honest.

Thalynmar: I’m gonna roll Meta.
DM: “How about I sweeten the pot?” She reaches into a pot—
Eben: Pours honey in it!
DM: Reaches into a POCKET, and pulls out what appears to be a wrapped parchment scroll, which she taps into a hand. “Have you seen what happens to a building when it gets hit by an earthquake?”
Raven: “If it’s not sturdy enough, it will collapse.”
DM: “But have you ever seen it?”
Raven: “Nope.”
DM: “Would you like to?”
Thalynmar: “Are you threatening us?”
Krixxix: “Only if that building is filled with dragon cult.”
DM: “This scroll, used at the proper time, in the proper location, could do quite a number on the Temple of Tiamat. Worth seeing?”
Eben: Right after we kill the final boss, the scroll will be used and we have to run like hell, to escape the falling tower!
DM: No, it’s -- it’s a magic scroll, Eben could read it!
Lualyrr: So could I!
DM: Yes, just – not after the final boss, you wouldn’t feel obligated to destroy the temple afterwards! In fact, Janma points out it would probably be better to do that DURING the ritual they’re performing.
Raven: To interrupt the ritual.
DM: They wouldn’t like that, would they?
Raven: They would probably hate it quite extensively.
Eben: “Does the Council have nothing to offer you in exchange for your help?”
DM: “The Council is a bunch of dithering busybodies, as you perfectly well know, who would rather talk talk talk than act act act. That’s why we’re going to you.”
Krixxix: “I do not disagree with that statement at all.”
Thalynmar: Unfortunately, Thalynmar’s like, that sounds good… Thalynmar’s the kind of guy who’s like, “Lifetime warranty! How can I lose?!”

The PCs bemoan that Tiamat is almost certainly going to just do what she wants, not what the Cult wants, and Krixxix tries to hunt down his killer.

Krixxix: “You all wouldn’t happen to know an assassin that was recently impersonating a guard in the prison…”
DM: “That really doesn’t narrow it down.”
Krixxix: “Female.”
DM: “Well, that narrows it down to about half the assassins I could name. That’s brilliant.”

Janma puts the players on the spot by calling for their vote. DEAD SILENCE ensues, so Janma produces a potion and shakes it at Thalynmar, promising him the strength of a frost giant.

Eben: So she’s got all of Galadriel’s gifts, ready to spool out to convince us one by one.
Thalynmar: ‘Look, there’s even hair!’
Eben: ‘For you, Thalynmar, an Axe of the Dwarven Forge of Old….’
Thalynmar: ‘I’ll take the hair.’
Eben: ‘For your, Krixxix, a shiny gold shortbow.’

Maldrake bemoans the paperwork, though Janma points out that the final battle is so nigh the Council doesn’t have TIME to dicker and bicker. But will this be a tipping point for anyone on the Council, they wonder? Eben tries to bid out of the vote on grounds of being dead, though Lualyrr insists he will not be forgotten. They debate a bit, and even Lualyrr finds herself persuaded that the Zhentarim might be a necessary evil to accept in the face of a god.

Maldrake: “If I am outvoted, than I am outvoted. I don’t want your money. Strike against the Council – I mean the, uh –“
Lualyrr: Tiamat.
Eben: Take the money. Take the money.
Maldrake: “Tiamat. I’ll take the money if you throw it at me…”

After some more debate, the vote eventually comes down in favor of the Zhentarim proposal. The group sells their interest in the Tower, receive scroll and potion and wealth in turn, and then poke their heads out to see who was knocking.

DM: Lord Neverember, who looks down at you.
Lualyrr: I look up at him. “We’ll be out in just a moment.”
Eben: I will look at his feet. Since he insists on looking down, when in Rome… Ah, the feet of Lord Neverember! Screw him. It’s in every sentence. Lord Neverember is in the room. He looks down to see all of you. Ah, Lord Neverember. In his bed. Looks down, to see you all. Lord Neverember, in the latrine.

Thalynmar tries to get Krixxix to keep up. He refuses. The game is temporarily paused while the DM runs off to talk to maintenance about getting the shower fixed. Raven tries to RP; no one listens, because they’re talking about Castlevania? The DM finally gets back; the players quickly force Janma to sign a contract. Lord Neverember motions them into the Council chamber.

DM: You’re escorted into the main council chamber, where the entire council is on its feet, looking for the first glimpse of you.
Maldrake: Yeah. (slow-clapping)
Thalynmar: Golbez!?
DM: At the sight of you all alive and hale, a palpable wave of relief rustles through the Council, and they all take a seat. Laeral Silverhand rises to call the Council to order, as you all take your seats at the table. “Please, give us your report on your mission to Thay.”

Silence.

Eben: We were on our way back from Thay.
Thalynmar: Oh yeah.
DM: I’ll allow you to gloss over.

Maldrake glosses over it, and the Council is shocked at their story of dream torture.

DM: Ontharr Frume bangs his gauntlet on the table. “We’re better off without them! It’s better off that you failed!”
Eben: …stop helping us!
Maldrake: “One thing of note. We thought Rezmir was dead. Seems she survived her topple out of the frost castle.” I don’t know if we ever reported her as dead…

They take pride in murdering more dragons and mages, while Eben vows things by his unholy outsider staff for some reason.

DM: “The time has come for our final move. The summoning ritual will begin any moment now. We are going to march to the Well of Dragons and put paid to the cult once and for all. Stop their evil plans. To that end – to any amongst you who still hold reservations, now is your chance to speak. All those who will march in support of our mission, rise ye now!”
Maldrake: I’ll get up in character. I stand up.
Thalynmar: Get on with the ceremony!
DM: We know you’re all going to go out and fight. Now, the question is, who among the delegates stays seated?
Thalynmar: Tell us what the Council Scorecard tells us.
DM: (shooting Thalynmar a withering look)
Thalynmar: That’s all I can see! I can’t actually make anything out.
Lualyrr: I’m pretty sure the elf king is sitting.
DM: You look to King Melendrach, just in time to see him rise from his seat.
Lualyrr: Well I’m impressed!
DM: Sir Istval is already up. Taeryn Hornblade is on his feet. In fact…
Eben: Neverember?
DM: Neverember of course.
Eben: Connerad…
DM: “Ach.”
Eben: …is that an Aye?
DM: He’s on his feet, but he’s a dwarf. Who knows?
Eben: It’s a high railing up there on the council seats. Sir Cudgel?
DM: Up!
Eben: You don’t remember who Sir Cudgel is!
DM: He’s back in the castle of paladins near the bridge, standing up in solidarity. Everybody across the realm is standing, and they’re gathering a portion of each of their life force.
Eben: What?
DM: To make the Spirit Bomb.
Eben: …oh.
DM: NOW who doesn’t know shit? In fact, all of the delegates in front of you have risen. The Council is in full support.
Thalynmar: Huh.
Eben: You look almost as confused as I am.

They inform the Council of the Zhentarim deal and are thrown out in disgrace. The DM encourages them to consider arraying their forces, and also offers them the Council Scorecard to ponder.

Thalynmar: Oh. We sold the Tower. That’s a minus across the board.

But it cost them no support and gained them allies, so net gain! Eben passes the Matrix of Vengeance to Sulesdag, and Neverember suggests the heroes attempt to enter the Well of Dragons directly while the armies engage the cult. The next few days are spent with Waterdeep ready to march to war, and factions across the Sword Coast armor and arm themselves. Their path leads them to the northern end of the Sunset Mountains and the Well of Dragons. All this time, the Draachhorn blows, sending trembles through them.

DM: And so you mount the mountains, climbing their gentle slopes to reach the caldera of a long-dead volcano rising from an ashen plane above. Along the cone’s steeply-sloped sides there are thousands of creatures milling about or lined up into ordered infantry ranks, and in the air above dozen of dragons wheel and shriek like a flock of immense crows, waiting for the bloodshed of a battle to come.
Raven: This… will be fun.
Maldrake: I’m not exactly using that word. Epic.
Raven: It’s my definition of fun.
DM: Taeryn Hornblade speaks, as you amongst the Council stare up at it. “You know, this probably has lava tubes.”

Dead silence. Baffled looks.

DM: “Lava tubes. Lava tubes.”
Lualyrr: Ohh! Lava tubes!
DM: “Yes, lava tubes! That’s what I’ve been saying! I don’t know why Thalynmar keeps looking at me as though I’ve grown a second head.”
Thalynmar: “Oof, this is some strong hooch…”
DM: “Lava tubes!”

Krixxix volunteers to scout, and the group… reluctantly allows him. (Except for Thalynmar, who is busy interrogating Google about lava tubes.) He does a circuit around and finds several promising entrances. One of them is unguarded and poorly used, which Krixxix suggests they use. Creeping there, they reach it without much difficulty.

DM: You creep into the lava tube, a hundred, perhaps a hundred and fifty feet. It’s pitch black—
Thalynmar: “Ohhh! Lava tube!”
Raven: I do have a ring that emits a bit of light.
DM: Yeah, five feet.
Maldrake: There’s no light ahead of us?
DM: No light, no signs of life.
Krixxix: Does anybody have dark vision?
Eben: Most of us, actually.
Krixxix: Well, lead the way.
Thalynmar: ‘Oh god all these traps, aaaagh!’
Krixxix: ‘Hey meatshield, go first!’

Somehow, train jokes ensues. They head forward into a wall of rubble. They send Barney and his family home, but somehow the tunnel is still blocked. Thalynmar, being a dwarf, investigates the rubble.

DM: You appraise it and immediately think it is the result of a cave-in. However, your keen dwarven breeze detector – your beard – feels a tug of air whistling.
Thalynmar: “This seems to be a cave-in but there’s air flowin’ through. If there’s breeze going through it, it may not be…”

They disassemble the rubble wall and find themselves at an intersection! A breeze and a hint of light comes from the southern passage, so they elect to go that way.

Thalynmar: “If it blows, it goes.”
Krixxix: Handjobbot, noooooooo.
DM: You head south, around a windy turn, and find yourself staring up at the sky above, still teeming with dragons and cloudy blasts. In a sinkhole, it seems—
Thalynmar: Aaaaaaaaaaaahhhhh – I didn’t just drop off…
DM: At the bottom of it. Thirty feet above you is the floor of the caldera. Around you – dragon bones. They’re over your head. You too, Krixxix. Five feet of dragon bones, in fact. You’re practically wading through.

Believing this to be their cue, the PCs climb the side of the sinkhole and find themselves on the caldera’s floor proper. It too is blanketed with the bones of dead dragons.

DM: Yet believe it or not that’s not the most interesting feature here. A mind-numbing structure has pushed up from beneath the tangled bones to tower over the blasted volcano. It’s part volcanic ash imbued with dragon bones, part stone imbued with the dark magic of the Nine Hells. It’s the Temple of Tiamat, all chaotic angles and spanning buttresses. Within the snarled cornices and soaring protrusions you count five asymmetric towers.
Raven: That’s not ominous.
Thalynmar: You got a picture?

They contemplate unleashing the Earthquake scroll, realize they’re within the AOE of it, and then realize they see no entrance anyway. They pause to debate their options, then decide they need to scout the temple further.

DM: Which way will you travel?
Thalynmar: Towards it.
DM: You walk up to it.
Thalynmar: I don’t understand the question…
Lualyrr: To the left or the right?
DM: Yeah.
Raven: I think there may be a better approach.
Thalynmar: Apparently we walked like a hundred feet.
Eben: We walk back. Which way do we go?
Maldrake: (miming typing) Walk… to… left… side.
Thalynmar: Throw… baby.
DM: There’s nothing in front of you, do you want to go left or right around the tower?
Thalynmar: I remove the hinges.
Maldrake: It’s over, boys!
DM: I’d like to point out this map has North on the BOTTOM of the compass rose, thus proving you don’t always have to orient it with north on the top!
Thalynmar: I’m not disagreeing with that, but how many have you seen?
DM: Behold my curvy middle finger!

Eben abruptly produces the familiar he’d summoned by writing Call Familiar into his pact-tome ages ago but never used for any purpose up to now.

DM: “You remembered meeeeeee!”
Thalynmar: ‘Shut up before I forget you again.’
DM: What familiar is it?
Eben: It’s an owl.
Thalynmar: ‘Oh Graham! Don’t go that way, Graham!’ Good old Cedric.
DM: You summon Owl from Winnie the Pooh. He laboriously explains how to do something, for his Intelligence is high and his Wisdom is low.

The owl takes off to scout, and discovered an entrance in the northern tower – and a scene of horrendous slaughter before it, as prisoners are being hauled out to be butchered by five dragons as some part of a sacrifice to empower the ritual.

Eben: Should we leave the prisoners to their fate?
Thalynmar: I don’t know about no prisoners yet. Ha ha, I don’t HAVE to either –

Eben tells Thalynmar about the prisoners, to his irritation. Even Krixxix is horrified, which everyone acknowledges is weird. The debate over how to interfere takes a turn when the DM tells them the dragons are the largest they have ever seen, and they reluctantly return back down to the sinkhole to attempt to find a different way into the temple proper.

Krixxix: All right, someone cast Homing ability on this dragon arrow of mine. That way we can guide it to—
DM: You’re not Mary Poppins, y’all.
Thalynmar: “Look, I don’t want to leave these people behind either, but we’ve got more important things to do.”
Eben: “Your logic is sound.”

Someone attempts to give the cat pie, as nearly as I can tell, and they shove Thalynmar in front to make with the Stonecunning.

Thalynmar: All right, so there’s three directions.
DM: You can only go one direction.
Thalynmar: Oh. We go that direction then.
DM: You have to pick which of the one directions to go, because there are three to choose from. Or you could split up.
Thalynmar: I hate you SO much.
Raven: I suggest not splitting up.
DM: Raven suggests splitting up, that’s what you all heard…

They head down the third passage and find themselves in luxurious quarters that look unoccupied save for full trunks, and then the game pauses slightly to look for a cat. Some time passes… Then Maldrake starts to cut a cake.

Maldrake: Tendonitis, here I go!
Thalynmar: (slams his fist down full-force on the table)
Lualyrr: Hey! What the fuck?!
Thalynmar: What? It was a mosquito.
DM: I assume you actually approve of that, Lualyrr…
Lualyrr: Yeah, but it scared me.
DM: Thalynmar was furious.
Maldrake: Thalynmar just has really strong feelings against tendonitis, guys.
Eben: I totally thought that’s what it was! That is where the line is drawn!

The DM re-describes the scene yet again, and they continue on to another intersection, and somehow it lapses into nostalgia of the heavy-rain orog shakedown in the Birthright campaign. Eben is reminded of Tywin and his misery makes everyone titter. Brunt’s guard-jellying is fondly remembered. They continue on forward, only to spot an ominous figure in the darkness before them!

Maldrake: Is his cape billowing?
DM: Yes.
Maldrake: I search for a small fan nearby.
DM: You find a small fan of violence. (indicating Krixxix)
Maldrake: (weary sigh)
DM: In fact, I’d say he’s more of a fan – an actual honest-to-god adherent.

It gets inexplicably racist.

DM: The figure stares balefully at you in the dark tunnel, though he has not yet made a move to lift the sword in his hand. You stare at the figure. He stares at you. You stare at the figure. He stares at you.
Lualyrr: I looked at him. He looked at me. I sized up him. He sized up me.
Krixxix: He’s not moving?
DM: No.
Maldrake: We can’t walk around him?
DM: Y—you could TRY…
Maldrake: We’ve have to literally try to bypass him. He’s standing in the middle, like he’s trying to bar the pass.
DM: Yes, definitely. This tunnel is 20 feet wide, one of you could tackle him and shove him down while the rest scramble on past, if you like.
Thalynmar: I don’t think that would end too well.
Maldrake: Is there any recognizable marks on him at all?
DM: None that you can see. No heraldic figures, certainly. “Well? Shall we stand here at an impasse all night? You do not intend to rush me, knock me down, move in, and take down the cult? For surely that is why you are skulking about in these tunnels, instead of reveling in the sacrifice. Heh.”
Maldrake: “I was kinda hoping you thought we were cultist members and would just let us pass.”
DM: “Agh… You’re not even trying. You haven’t put on a disguise, you haven’t done the symbol…” (doing the hand gesture) “Praise be to Her… Two are withheld, that is a sign that she is holding her power in reserve. All five is the more common gesture. At this point, the more appropriate one.”
Maldrake: “A few times we just walked into the center of the cult camps. But that was early on, back when the outfits were a little less organized.”
Raven: “This would be the most organized group.”
DM: (heaving a sigh) “What a tiring night for a battle.”
Eben: Or to have a curse.
Krixxix: “If it’s a tiring night for a battle, then don’t fight and just let us pass.”
DM: “Why should I do that?”
Krixxix: “Because I just said I don’t feel like fighting.”
DM: “Yes. But I have this thing called ‘loyalty’, little one. Though it is ill-placed, it is nonetheless my bond and creed.”
Krixxix: “Bond and greed.”
DM: “Creed. Creed.”
Raven: “Bond and what?”
Lualyrr: “Ill-placed?”
DM: “The Cult dies tonight, one way or the other.”
Krixxix: And do you plan to die with it?
DM: “I am already dead.”
Maldrake: “When this contract is fulfilled, you will be free?”
DM: “No, no, I’m not that kind of undead.”
Maldrake: “I’m not a cleric, sadly—“
DM: “Roll Religion, you moron.”
Maldrake: I was going to ask you if I could, but then he started talking. Ooh, a 23.
DM: To judge from this thing’s features and form, you would believe it to be a wight.
Maldrake: They called in Winter. It’s a Walker of the North.
Eben: No problem, Firebolt, next enemy.
Maldrake: Have you caught up with the seventh season?
Eben: Yeah, I got HBO now—
DM: “I’m right here.”
Maldrake: ‘I’m asking you, have you caught up with the seventh season of Game of Thrones? It’s so good, dude.’
DM: ‘We don’t get cable up here in cult headquarters.’
Lualyrr: ‘You’re really losing it.’
DM: ‘I’ve tried to pirate it, but we don’t have good VPN software.’
Eben: So he’s a wight? And wights…
DM: Drink life force! They are intelligent undead—
Thalynmar: Duh.
DM: In this edition they just do necrotic damage which heals them, and if you fail a Constitution saving throw your hit point maximum is reduced by the damage taken.
Maldrake: It’s a good thing this game is almost over, this [character] sheet is looking pretty ragged too…
DM: He does not take extra damage from radiant damage.
Krixxix: What about radiation damage?
DM: He becomes a ghoul!
Krixxix: ‘Hey smoothskin.’

Lualyrr solves the entire combat encounter with one casting of Dominate Monster, which the rest of the group barely acknowledges as they work on figuring out how to shut down the combat encounter.

Lualyrr: “We really need to get through here. You WILL let us pass.”
DM: The creature steps to one side.
Lualyrr: “Thank you.”
Eben: Did you Dominate him?!
Lualyrr: I did.
Eben: Wow.
Raven: Okay.

Lualyrr asks what they can expect, but refuses to push on this to the group’s surprise and confusion. Knowing that the duration will bite them in the ass and not wanting him to charge in on them during their final battle, they bind the wight.

Thalynmar: Now, the Decanter of Endless Water.
Krixxix: Stick it in his mouth, then pull the cork!
Lualyrr: Oh come on, guys.
Maldrake: “Your freedom will come soon. As you said, one way or another the Cult dies today.”
DM: “I damn you for your success, but in some small way I welcome it. Go. Do as you will. Leave me to my musings and meanderings.” (abruptly switching to a Fallout ghoul voice) ‘I’m gonna fuck a robot.’
Krixxix: Handjobbot, yaaaay!
DM: Bingbong bingbong bingbong. You hurry on down the temple, which slopes upwards. And you emerge in the Temple—
Thalynmar: Of Elemental Evil. Wait.
DM: SURPRISE! Once your eyes adjust to the stunning chaos of Tiamat’s temple, you see from the inside it is one giant building that towers far above you. There are five distinct vaults that branch off from the gallery that doubtless correspond to the towers you saw from the outside. Overwhelmingly the place is a lifeless, ashen grave, but each of the side vaults shimmers in the color of a chromatic dragon. There are Red Wizards standing in each of the five vaults, chanting and channeling magical force into the center. There’s a kaleidoscope whirl of twisting arcane energy stretching up into the twisting recesses of the temple’s central spire.
Thalynmar: That’s obviously the focal point of things.
Maldrake: The first thing we’re gonna do, is we have to slowly kill the five wizards that are trapping our allies.
Eben: Slowly!
Lualyrr: Slowly kill them?!
Maldrake: They have a lot of hit points. Normally this would be done with 25 heroes, but we only have 5.
DM: To be fair, you’re not level-synced.

They lose the battle outside by killing too slowly. Whoops! With the heroes at the scene of the final battle, the game comes to an end. Next time: the final battle of the module…