Twenty years after the rebirth of Kalroth and the victory of our heroes… Now what?

DM: We return to the world of Kalek.
Ellerian: What’s its name?
DM: Kalek.
C: It’s always been Kalek. He sent us an email like nine years ago with the pantheon and stuff.
Ellerian: It wasn’t nine years ago. It was eight.
DM: It was 2009… A new age is upon us. Twenty years have passed since Kalroth was reborn. The current year is 20 AR.
Nobix: I don’t think I remember the original story. I don’t think I was there for that.
Ellerian: Yes you were…

Erik gropes Ellerian, leading into Adventures of Sonic the Hedgehog references somehow. Very foul ones, at that. We are, as ever, horrible people.

DM: The world has known, for the most part, peace for these twenty years.
Ellerian: Peace and chili dogs.
DM: Much has happened. Most notably the dwarves are working on a material they have been fairly secretive about, and have decided to unveil it. Known for their transit system twenty-some-odd years ago, they have nearly perfected it, and have helped the Faldric Empire reburrow some new sewer lines. Making that shit flow ever nicer! But it also has created a new tram line up to the north, though the cost of traveling that is still quite expensive. Only for nobles or military. In fact, there is now a slight human presence on Sintharsis. They now share the continent with the Banglasharan.
Morzan: That’s probably because of Mrr and Aliarra.
C: And Drusila.
Ellerian: Who as a baker is PERFECTLY placed…
DM: The Siameseovich bakery is still going strong.
Ellerian: Despite the name.
Morzan: And strange, half-Banglasharan, half-minotaur children.
Ellerian: Mysterious sects underneath it.
DM: Guarding a head of some sort.
Ellerian: A head of cheese. ‘How far we’ve fallen,’ says the blind head monk – OH MY GOD, he was the ‘head’ monk all this time! I just got it!

The most interesting news of all: the ratfolk of the south have come north to open trade, and some have even settled locally. And here we are almost twenty years later, with the great temple of Kalroth about to open to much fanfare.

DM: And right now we see one half-orc… are you wearing a breastplate>
Morzan: Yup.
DM: Walking through the front gates.
Erik: (laughing at C’s struggle with the cat) Your face makes him uncomfortable!
DM: She walks with purpose back to the barracks of Skeldric, with her charge in tow.
C: Does Faldoun still run this place?
DM: For she had been hunting a man who murdered a child of Skeldric in cold blood. Now she returns so he may face his justice. Perhaps a little sad that he did not end up giving a fight… but there’s only place for cowards. A deep, dark cell.
C: A hole in the ground. Die.
DM: Also walking through this same gate is a man who should not… you’re a Daywalker, right?
C: Yes.
DM: Should not be walking through the day.
Erik: Did you take the ‘sparkling’ trait?
C: No. If I’d come across it, I would have…
DM: Also with his charge in tow, though his is more of a body wrapped in wax canvas. Taking it to gain his coin.

Morzan enters the barracks and drops her bounty off, only for an initiate to tell her to go see Mega Man. Or, uh, go see the sergeant at arms, whatever. She hurries thataway, and discovers FALDOUN there! Faldoun mugs for the camera as the fanboys cheer.

DM: “It seems that more of our brethren have been murdered. Down in the southern district, though it does not seem to be by any means of human hands.”
C: (to a yelling Erik) You bleed chocolate?
Erik: I’m so far, butter and gravy are my liquids.
DM: “Their throats have been torn out.”
Morzan: “Disturbing.”
C: What? Oh, you’re a lizard—
Erik: I’m a ratfolk, I don’t gnaw at people’s throats.
DM: “I can think of none better than an Inquisitor of Skeldric to investigate.’
C: You push bamboo under the fingernails of denizens until she finds her goal…

The group questions the expectedness of the Spanish Inquisition, as Faldoun reveals a priest of Denerim was also savaged. Another investigator has also gone missing, one Sir Gregor.

Erik: He’s going to become Robocop, I can already tell.
DM: C. You’re at the mortuary’s office.
Ellerian: Your home.
DM: Dropping off the body. “Hoo, that’s a smelly one.”
C: “Hmm. As requested.”
Ellerian: ‘I’ve gotta stop requesting extra-smelly ones.’
C: It’s Hanzo. I’ve killed Hanzo.
DM: He’s a ninja, it was easy…
Ellerian: Isn’t he a samurai now?
DM: He pulls down a lockbox. “And here’s three gold coins to your palm.”
C: …I must be on hard times.
Erik: What, did you find and kill a rat?!
C: He didn’t want to give me a bunch because I’d just be greedily scribbling it into my total.
DM: “If you’re looking for some good money, possibly some good coin, there’s talk of a creature going around.”
C: “What sort of creature?”
DM: “Not know, but it ripped out the throats of three members of the church. Two of Skeldric’s boys and one of Denerim’s,”
C: “All at once?”
DM: “Maybe three at once. It’s hard to do to them Skeldric boys.”
C: “Who do I see about this?”
DM: “Word has it they’re putting together a team…”
C: Ooh, a montage!

They vigorously become queer and tug Frodo for some reason. The DM shifts the scene.

DM: Since you guys insisted, I’m going to use your idea. We zoom to the streets –
Ellerian: (miming his character falling out of the sky to join the party)
DM: No, the other idea. Two individuals in heated argument. Who can cast Grease the best, I don’t know.
Erik: “I told you necromancy isn’t real magic. It’s a plaything. A toy. You’re not even more of a magician than a small kindergartener.”
Ellerian: “You’ve invested all of your arcane power into summoning a lumbering behemoth! Instead of actually mastering the arts of reality.”
C: You two are together already?
Ellerian: Apparently. We got into an argument that has just not stopped because neither of us will back down.
C: Are you all playing yourselves?
Erik: “Conjuration is the ultimate form of magic! I can summon great warriors and soon I will summon gods! Your necromancy will barely get you a zombie!”
Ellerian: “You underestimate the power that I wield, but soon you’ll have a chance to be edified.”
Erik: “You sit down and put tubes on cat’s tails!”
DM: “Mr. Worm! Mr, Worm!” You notice a fledgling wizard in his beginner’s robes come up to you.
Ellerian: “Ah, little surprise. You study at this school. The one they have here. That explains so much of your education.”
Erik: “Not now! We will continue our conversation later. What is it, boy?”
DM: “Master Carrick wishes to speak to you sir.”
Erik: (sputtering and stumbling for a bit) “O-okay. I’ll get right on it. Perhaps you should get a cleric to fix your voice…”
DM: “I’m going through puberty, sir!”
C: Aren’t you human?
Ellerian: No, I’m an elf.
C: You’re just the only…
Ellerian: Non-monster.

Erik jumps on his Eidolon and rides off. The DM is promptly irritated that his gambit to get Ellerian involved didn’t work, but he insists on following Erik while flexing his ego. He is promptly stopped at the gates, though Erik insists on letting him in so they can continue arguing.

Ellerian: “Your student and I,” I say, in ELVISH! Let’s see if he SPEAKS it! “Have much to discuss.”
DM: He pulls down his hood. He’s got not as pointy ears as you, but some point to it.
Ellerian: He pulls his hood down over his eyes, there’s an Elvish-to-Common dictionary hidden in it.

The half-elf permits him entry, and they head up to the office of the Archmage Carrick. Ellerian introduces himself to Carrick with his full name.

Erik: “A self-taught one.”
Ellerian: “Not self-taught. Not taught here. There is a very pertinent difference.”

Carrick is on the find-the-monster mission as well, and Ellerian insists on joining in. Erik offers to prepare his tools and spells.

DM: “How long have you been away from the elven lands?”
Ellerian: “Far too long.” (a long pause) Like THREE DAYS! Oh my god, it’s KILLING me.
Erik: It was far too long the moment he left the gate.
Ellerian: YES! It’s so MORTAL and HASTY and FRICTIVE out here.
C: My character is just going to love you. There’s going to be a lot of ellipses from me this game.
DM: “Perhaps you should tag along with him.”
Ellerian: “I had intended to. It’s clear he needs my help.”
C: (slowly cracking up) That’s great! Every kind act from you will be a backhanded compliment! I am going to out of character like this, but in-character I’m going to have trouble stomaching you.
Ellerian: I’ll prove my utility, I have Enlarge Person prepared.
C: Not your usefulness, your personality.
Erik: “Good. Your magic talents will be most useful. Your mouth, however, will not. Come.”
Morzan: I foresee looking at him and going, “I can see why my father’s people ate people like you.”

Crrick drops the name of one of the Lanvaelins, and then the horrible thought of Cissy being a hero occurs to the group.

Ellerian: I assume Cissy spent her goodwill REALLY quickly. Like one orphanage fireball, I guess we’re back to square zero. One of them was talking shit. ‘You sure are short! I think I’m taller than you and I don’t even got no parents!’ ‘You don’t got no LIFE either!’
C: Energy Admixture Sudden Maximize…

The group debates the merits of dropping Grease just to scoot out of a scene dramatically. Horrible jokes are made. Carrick warns Erik to keep an eye on Ellerian, who is suspicious by virtue of being an elf, not taught in the college, and unmasked.

C: Your Ph.D from Djibouti means nothing here,
Ellerian: Hey, I got this from ITT Thaumaturgical Institute,
C: I graduated from Slayer University, ho ho!
Ellerian: I graduated from University of Maryland University College University School!
C: (laughs so helplessly he sets Ellerian off)

Erik becomes victim of a horrible pornographic Mighty Mouse joke, which was his own fault for being a ratkin. We turn now to Bex Sharpmark, fresh off the boat, who is seeking a connection to the Thieves’ Guild.

DM: Finally, one day, a man with a very craggy face walks up to you. His most distinguishing feature is the hat that he wears.
C: The bowler!
DM: A bowler hat. In the right light condition you can swear you see what seem to be sharpened coins stitched into the underside, making it a nasty makeshift weapon. “Roight there! How are you doing today?”
Bex: …Oh, this is actually me?! Um.
DM: “I’d like to introduce meself, my name is Bowler. I’ll be your guide to the Thieves’ Guild while you are here.”

Bowler asks Bex to check out the incident down in the sewers, by hook or by crook; Bex conveniently agrees.

Erik: Is there like a small child outside telling everyone where we’re going? ‘Small group of adventurers gathering anew! Anyone can join!’
DM: Well, this is the Thieves’ Guild, one of the things they do barter in is with knowledge.
Erik: I feel like they put it together, and the Thieves’ Guild is the guy who gave us the mission. ‘Much easier when we have a guy at the top, thank you.’
DM: You never know whose palms they’re greasing.
Nobix: I just queued up for the Dungeon Finder and I showed up in the sewer.
DM: Aaaan there’s a dwarf in there. Watch out, he’s got a gun! Nobix Beerfist… You are a dwarf of the First Regiment of Gunslingers. The dwarves have invented black powder.
Bex: Racist.
DM: And white powder. They had to make it even. They getting hiiiiigh…

The dwarves are armed with explosives as a branch of their tunneling system, and Nobix is in town for the temple dedication. His commander stalks in.

DM: “Aye! Nobix Beerfist! Front an’ center!”
Nobix: “Yes sir!”
DM: “…That’s a weird accent ya got there, lad.”
Erik: A dwarf without his accent is no dwarf at all.
DM: “I was in the castle, right? It seems that the temple of Denerim is tryin’ to send somebody in to investigate somethin’. Probably they’ve already got some Skeldric boys goin’ down, right? So. Right. We’re gonna send one of our own boys in. I convinced ‘em not to send in one of the Denerim boys and send you instead. We’ve got to show ‘em what our arms are good at! I need you to represent us. Right.”
Nobix: “I’ll be glad to! Our new technology? I think it’ll be a blast!” …I need to work on the accent.

Nobix is forbidden from mentioning the belchers, which are cannons, and thus far, secret technology. He is also told to work on his accent!

Erik: ‘We’ll send you to dwarf accent remedial school.’
Nobix: Aye!
C: University of Dwarf University Forge…

Poor Nobix is mocked some more for his lackcent, and is compared to a Wookie with a speech impediment. Morning dawns, absurdly loudly! Ellerian and the DM get into an argument about how much XP he’d gain for dominating the world. It isn’t much. The group slowly trickles in to their agreed-upon meeting place, arguing about whether Ellerian shows up first because he’s bored or last because he’s egotistical. It gets weirder from there.

Erik: “Big things make big poops. That’s what my people learned. Big things, big poops.”
Ellerian: (after a very long pause) “You’ve put a lot of thought into this.”
Erik: “It seems pretty basic.”
Ellerian: “I’m not cleaning up after your monster.”
Erik: “It doesn’t eat. It subsists off the energy of the world around us.”
Ellerian: “So it is a big thing that does NOT produce a big poop.”
Erik: “You just cannot see the poop.”
Nobix: “What are you two yakking on about?”
Ellerian: I regard the dwarf skeptically.
Morzan: I’m looking at the three of you like you’ve all lost your minds?
Ellerian: You speak elven?
Morzan: No.
Ellerian: You have NO idea what we’re talking about.
Nobix: I don’t think dwarves are even capable of speaking Elven…
Morzan: I’m probably ignoring you two as you’re just over there arguing with one another…
Ellerian: Speaking with perfect inflection the most beautiful and ethereal language on the planet… and then he’s butchering it. Dick.
Erik: “I do it on purpose.”
Ellerian: I know.

Erik begins rounding up the group, since he speaks Common, and also insults Ellerian a bit because he can.

Erik: “My tall friend here is quite full of himself.” Switch back to Elven. “I told him you’re a good guy.”
Ellerian: “…I appreciate it.”
Erik: I’m so going to translate everything he says into awesome compliments. ‘Oh, look at this short person.’ ‘He’s complimenting how he enjoys your height. It’s good that you’re that size.’ ‘THIS trashy commoner food!’ ‘He enjoys your food. He probably wants seconds.’ Neutral Good allows me to be a douchebag.

Alignments are tallied, leaning strongly to good. A cat meows into, then attacks, the microphone for some godforsaken reason. Bex inveigles his way into the party, and then Morzan shocks Ellerian by speaking Draconic.

DM: What are you doing, cat? There’s nothing behind here – stop walking behind my screen!
Ellerian: That’s right, cat, tell me all the information later.
DM: Macow macow, macow macow.
Ellerian: Really?! CR that high?!

The cat stomps over the screen and is now the DM. Morzan gets diplomatically shirty at Ellerian.

Morzan: “As for not expecting to hear that, is it because of my heritage or just because you weren’t expecting to hear that in this city?”
Ellerian: “It is an esoteric language, often spoken by practitioners of the arcane, which you do not appear to be.”
Erik: Do you speak Elven?
Ellerian: I’m talking in Draconic now, she speaks that. Draconic is one of the languages that I am allowed to start with.

Erik decides he speaks Draconic, having thus far failed to pick up his bonus languages, and then hastily retcons his insistence that he didn’t speak it.

Erik: “I meant to say I didn’t speak it well. I actually care about the way Draconic sounds. Elven not so much.”
Ellerian: “I noticed.”
Erik: “Oh, good. Should I make it sloppier?”
Ellerian: “I don’t see how you could.”
Erik: ‘Well let me tell ya somethin’ there brother!’ Like five words that aren’t Elven but sound like it.
Morzan: I’ll speak in Common, but I’ll translate in Draconic.
Erik: “Don’t ruin my fun. I was enjoying not translating everything properly for him.” I say that in Common.
Nobix: Wait a minute, you don’t understand Comic? Er, Common?
Erik: If he does, he’s refusing to respond in it.
Nobix: Huh. This shall be interesting.

A few moments pass, before a knight steps around the corner. Ellerian attempts to lob a charm spell before the DM even finished talking.

DM: I’d like to see you try.
Ellerian: What kind of shitball knight has a good Wisdom saving throw?
DM: Faldoun does, that’s who.
Ellerian: Eh! He can roll a natural 1.
DM: That would be great. Morzan, you are graced by his presence once again.
Morzan: Yep, you see me straighten up, saluting, “Sir!”

Lord Neverember looks down on Faldoun, despite not existing. Faldoun explains he’d been asked to come and see this motley crew off as he introduces himself. The King himself is interested in this case! The transcriber’s cat-induced future pain is mocked, as Faldoun gives them directions to the sewers and tells them to expect some sort of creature or beast.

C: Someone flushed an alligator…
DM: “It is in the Kingdom of Faldric and needs to be purged. Any questions?”
Nobix: “I guess I got another one.”
DM: “Yes, Master Dwarf?”
Nobix: “Um, do you happen to have a map of this sewer system handy?”
DM: “I’m afraid not.”
C: They’re called psicrystals, get one.
DM: “These are the old sewer system, before your clan dug up new tunnels for our improved sewer system.”
C: Oh, they’re dwarven make.
Erik: Shit flows at ten times the pace.
DM: “Thankfully, excrement will not be an issue for you all.”
C: No grey water.
Ellerian: We’re not the Pirates of Dark Water?

Faldoun warns that they may meet ratfolk down there, and they hope Erik can be diplomatic should that happen. The group walks off with no coordination whatsoever, and close the session by trashing the original Mortal Kombat movie – which is weird, because it wasn’t nearly as bad as most of them say. Who knows?