We begin in a ‘we need filler for a missing player’ campaign: the gestalt Birthright campaign, in which the players have rolled up 6th-level gestalt characters to inflict upon the continent of Cerilia. DOOM!

Tam: The transcriber will laud his witticisms…
DM: Those of you who are gestalt characters plus Lusiphur in tow have been working for some time to understand the nature of the power that lies within you. You know your strengths are greater than those of others. You know that you possess a might of both blood and skill that puts you among the most foremost of the scions of Anuire and indeed, perhaps all of Cerilia. But why has escaped you. You were offered the opportunity to find out, by taking on a curious task that would send you to a mountainous stronghold in the depths of the Five Peaks. You took your battle to this stronghold, each of you meeting the others for the first time, and working together with the understanding that the answers you sought might be up there. However, you found little in there. There were creatures in there that were no more than animal intelligence. Beasts of the mountain. Birds of a great size warped by the magic of the five peaks for which the land was named. But no intelligent life up there. In this fortress, however, you did find a curious cache of magic, that rare and strange force in Cerilia, and this is where you acquired the magic items you now hold,. They have but recently come into your possession.
Hjalmar: I got there last, that’s why I got the dirt headband. God damn it, guys.
DM: No one else wanted to be smart.
Krackus: You think we can even tell what it was?! We thought it was just trash.

The DM calls on them to introduce each other and give a bit of a blurb on them. Tam threatens to kill the DM by a look alone. Krackus sobs. Timorell is up first, introducing herself and Lusiphur as possibly-related tibbits who know how to work together to backstab.

Lusiphur: Lusiphur, like Satan.
Hjalmar: Why wasn’t it Lucifur, F-U-R?
Krackus: I was about to say Lucy Fur.
Lusiphur: SHE made the name up.
Timorell: Actually, I stole it from some place.
Krackus: Yeah. THE BIBLE.
DM: I’d give you inspiration, but it doesn’t exist.

Hjalmar introduces himself as the murderer of the tyrant Thanatos, Krackus, an ogre mage, serves Ruornil and desires to spread sources across the land. Tam wearily refuses to go, so they start chanting his name like a orcish warchief from Shadow of War (which the DM has been playing lately). Tam is a retired veteran who speaks little of his past. With all that done, they awaken after a night’s rest. Questioning what this fortress was used for, Vivi rolls Knowledge(History)!

Vivi: 9. Nope.
DM: You’ve heard of these things called ‘fortresses’, which were apparently used in the past.
Tam: Ha ha, what?
Hjalmar: That’s not right.
Tam: This is a fortress!
DM: They’re also called ‘castles’!
Tam: But if this was a palace that was also a castle—
DM: He didn’t roll high enough for that. It was only a 9, Tam, not a 10.
Vivi: I guess I should have paid more attention in that class.

Tam and his companion withdraw, as they do each morning. Krackus apparently dies in his sleep, for no reason I can discern. Tactics Ogre is brought up, as is Ogre Battle, the one leading logically to the other. They slaver and drool over the magic items.

Hjalmar: Go ahead and drool on it, we won’t judge.
Krackus: I’m writing a book on how much I’m judging you right now.
Vivi: Oh, what does it say?
Krackus: ‘I’m judging you.’ I haven’t gotten too far.
Vivi: That’s very judgmental of you.

Krackus tries to work out an accent for his character, and also looks up the Intellect Devourer for some reason. The group is horrified by his tales of the four-legged brain, except for the DM, who is blasé as he is about all horrors that D&D has to offer that do not come from his players. The DM calls for Listen checks!

Hjalmar: Ooh, I actually have ranks in it.
Vivi: 31.
Hjalmar: 21.
Timorell: 27.
Krackus: 25.
Tam: (bitterly) 89! ….15.
DM: You all hear, echoing over the mountain outside, and through the arrow slits of the fortress, war horns. Vivi, with his keen ears, recognizes the particular call. GOBLINS! Not surprising in the Five Peaks, yet what are they doing up here?
Lusiphur: Are they saying anything?
DM: (without missing a beat, making a horn noise)
Lusiphur: I speak Goblin, so if there’s any words, I can probably speak them.
DM: (again, not missing a beat, making words out of a horn noise) ‘WE’RE HOOOOORNS!’
Vivi: I’m gonna see if I can get a good view of them and stay hidden by doing so.
DM: Where would you like to get a view of them from?
Vivi: Is there a window perhaps?
DM: There are many arrowslits, yes.
Hjalmar: Peak #3. We’re in the Five Peaks, so I’m going to Peak #3 to get a good look,
DM: How are you getting there?
Hjalmar: I’m teleporting.
DM: Using what power?
Hjalmar: I’m gonna wait for night.
DM: Your corpse appears on peak number 3, skewered with goblin arrows.

Vivi peers out, and spots a massive goblin horde marching up the mountain path. Spot checks also tell them that running ahead of the group are three goblins and an armored figure! Now they wonder if they were lured into a trap, and the rogues consider reconnaissance. The DM clears the table to begin drawing the map. He attempts to make circles with the compass, then gives up and is mocked. Timorell goes to the bathroom, meaning the group is obligated to get into combat. They scout out the gate, discovering that the portcullis is rusty and has no mechanism to drop it. An argument over miniatures erupts.

Timorell: I put myself out there. I’m a stick chick.
DM: There is no stick chick.
Timorell: There’s a chick in a green cloak, that’s my character.

Silence.

DM: What?
Krackus: Yeah you put it over by the -- (bursting into laughter)
DM: You put it in the encroaching NPC party!
Krackus: She’s joined the wrong team!
Timorell: Can you put me in the right place…?

The NPCs scramble up towards the gatehouse, as the PCs call for them to stop. They stop, just as Lusiphur rolls Intimidate… apparently in direct response to them stopping. He rolls well!

DM: The three goblins in the back spot this strange figure menacing them with blades and whatever you’re menacing them with, and immediately screech to a halt, drop to their knees, and begin gabbering out in the Goblin tongue.
Timorell: Which Lusiphur understands.
DM: “We come in peace!” “We’re here on a mission of mercy!” “We seek the master!” The person in front, however, lifts the visor of the plate mail, revealing herself to be a woman!
Hjalmar: Oh, these are my thralls. That’s what you’re saying?
Tam: Goblins?!
Lusiphur: A woman?!
Hjalmar: I get goblin thralls? Nice.
DM: Hey, you attracted who was nearby.
Tam: This is what I fought for years! And I don’t understand Goblin. (miming raising his sword)

A miniature hurtles through the assembled ones, slaying all present. The woman assures them they are in peace and here to serve Hjalmar, although the remaining thousand goblins kind of don’t. Krackus flies up just as the army races up into view, and they begin preparing for the onslaught!

Tam: This is a perfect chance he’s given us to all put our powers on display.
DM: …Tam…
Tam: What?
DM: You’re not supposed to openly admit it!

Initiative is rolled and accounted for, while weird arguments about the Acolyte of Skin prestige class and if it is the same thing as a whore occur in the background. Tam, first to act, zooms forward and breathes a line of some sort of horrible energy through the goblin horde in a line. It deals enough damage to kill even on a save, so they sweep off a bunch of goblins. Krackus enters the gatehouse and discovers the chains holding the portcullis up are brutally rusted, so he unloads acid breath into the chains to try to loosen them. One chain on each portcullis gives way. Lusiphur tries to Intimidate.

Krackus: Oh shit, they put down the swamp mana card.
DM: You’re boned.
Hjalmar: Just like my ass.
Lusiphur: No, um, I rolled very shitty, so I’m just going to shoot an arrow.
Hjalmar: ‘Go away you big mad people!’
DM: If you’re Intimidating, you’re Intimidating, that’s your action!
Lusiphur: I rolled a 7, so with my intimidate is +6, it’s a 13. “If you want to die, come and fight us!”
DM: “FEAST ON THEIR FLESH!” roar the goblins, sounding surprisingly deep-voiced. Almost as if you’d given them heart rather than scaring them.
Vivi: I knew Heart was the worst ring.

Tam’s cohort Ohno bounces a lance off a goblin’s shield. Hjalmar is up next.

Hjalmar: I hold out my staff to one of my goblin cohorts –
DM: (miming taking it) “Thank you, sir!”
Hjalmar: And I draw my dagger.
DM: (miming taking it) “Thank you, sir!”

An extremely long pause, as Hjalmar tries to process what just happened.

Hjalmar: I take my dagger and cut my hand, drawing blood.
DM: And yet it’s Lusiphur who’s supposed to be the edgy one.
Hjalmar: Using my life force to power my arcane magics. And I cast Caustic Smoke!

Smoke erupts around the path, engulfing many goblins. Somehow they turn into shoggoths, or are running from a shoggoth. Mareth, who I believe is Hjalmar’s thrall, duels with goblins while his thralls fire into the melee. Lusiphur goes on a rampage apparently? Or maybe Vivi!

DM: You kill your way through. You cut Mareth’s head off!
Hjalmar: Well, don’t worry, I’ll get a new one.
Tam: That could have been a good one.
DM: Hjalmar! Hjalmar! Dragon – I mean Hjalmar! You get Benar, I want him back…

Tam slays a goblin. More continue to pour onto the field and forward to assault the PCs. The miniatures get more interesting as they go.

Tam: Whoa, there are some badasses in the back.
Hjalmar: Time to drop my acid ball.
Krackus: Apparently they don’t care about the smoke.
DM: They do not. They are running blindly through it, and those of you engaged in melee can see a fanatical light in their eyes, as if they are driven on by some sort of power or force compels them forward. They race on, heedless of the smoke in front of them, heedless of its blinding, clinging vapors, heedless of any threat to themselves -- (abruptly putting out a strange miniature) Ooh, Slenderman.
Tam: How’s y’all’s Will saves?

A minotaur appears, and the DM describes it actually legitimate.

Tam: The war troll is in the back – don’t just put your Shadow of War game into this campaign!
DM: Welp, this first goblin attack did not go so well.
Vivi: I’d like to pause the game and buy a lootbox…
DM: The goblin staggers forward as if driven by his allies, the clinging smoke blinds him. He lunges forward, just sort of bounces off Mareth, and wobbles there, looking completely out of it.
Tam: It’s the secret of gold in 5E! They’re going to add lootboxes in 5.1, that’s what you spend gold on!
Krackus: That’d be the greatest April Fool’s joke the DM could do. ‘Looks like you’re about to die, Krackus, for just $2 you could buy a healing potion for your character.”
DM: By the way, I’m changing my initials, instead of ‘DM’ I’m now ‘EA’.
Krackus: We should have seen it coming!
Hjalmar: He just has a tip jar right there.
DM: Also I’m Ubisoft, all of you guys are male, it’s too difficult for me to play in front of female PCs.
Hjalmar: And I’m just eyes and teeth!

Krackus puts some more acid damage onto the chains. One of them jams, and the portcullis locks at an angle above the battle at large. Tam discovers a ridiculously patriotic orc, which is all the weirder having been painted by Russians. Lusiphur fires into melee and drops one! Hjalmar lobs an acid ball into the middle of his cloud; it immediately strikes the hidden spell reflector they’d erected and slays the party. Swaths of goblins are dropped and immediately recycled into the back of the onrushing horde. The group continues to slay goblins, and more continue to charge fanatically on.

DM: I did mention hundreds, and I was not exaggerating.
Tam: We need to take out the control ship, and then all the droids will shut down.

The minotaur and the giant skeleton who had been lurking in the back rise up into the air and fly slowly towards the walls to engage! Krackus oils the wheels with the hurl of a flask, and the grinding portcullis descends. Confusion over Sculpt Spell erupts, then only worsens.

Krackus: Oh. The search was set to news. I was looking up NEWS on “D&D 3.5 Sculpt Spell”.

Krackus is still unsatisfied, as the DM rules that the cone he wishes to conjure must emanate from him. Then the DM points out just how good a 40 foot cone is, and he is mildly mollified. The minotaur takes a crapton of damage, though the skeleton proves to have golem-immunity to magic!

Lusiphur: I’m gonna move up to the wall so I can jump on it.
Hjalmar: How tall is the wall?
DM: 30 feet…? 40 feet. How are you getting up there?
Lusiphur: I can take a double movement?
DM: How are you getting up there?
Lusiphur: I can jump.
Hjalmar: 30 foot jump?
Krackus: That’s a vicious jump.
Lusiphur: If I roll high enough, wouldn’t that work?
DM: It’s technically correct that if you roll high enough that you work…
Hjalmar: I don’t believe you CAN roll that high.
Tam: Do you have your raccoon tail on the back of your outfit?

Lusiphur switches to climbing; this goes slightly better. Tam, delighted to at last have Ohno fire at the minotaur, rolls only to swear vehemently and confess to missing. GUILE’S THEME ERUPTS! Sound effects erupt. Goblins fling javelins into the fray, and poor Ohno takes a wound.

Lusiphur: Ass-dick! Ass-dick! What is it, it’s penis…
Krackus: What? What are you talking about?
Lusiphur: The thing he’s obsessed with, it’s got a dick in his ass, but it’s a dick?
DM and Timorell: Dickbutt.
Lusiphur: Dickbutt!
DM: I’m obsessed with that, really?
Lusiphur: Yes.

The group chants obscene things, making Vivi embarrassed that his sister is exposed to them, The group hasn’t even made a Hitler comment in some time, so they don’t know what the hell he’s talking about. The DM finally forces Vivi to acknowledge that he’s up on his fourth attempt. He Shadow Jaunts up onto the wall, while Timorell tries to overpower a mook. The rest of the group talks her into attacking the big guys instead. Tam’s sonic shout thing returns, and he unleashes it on the bony construct, while goblins surge forward to kill! The golem acts!

DM: A tiny bone hurls down, looking like no more than the fingerbone of a large creature. You throw up one hand to bat it aside, but as soon as it touches you, it bursts and multiplies. More bones rise up from the ground to meet the ones that descend upon you, imprisoning you in a horrible cage of its own material.
Lusiphur: Oh, great. Great.

The minotaur engages Krackus, rolls poorly, and misses its attack, Krackus returns fire with acid breath!

DM: That’s a Reflex save for h—eh. It doesn’t matter what it is. You watch as its flesh is stripped from its muscle, the muscle is stripped from its bones, and a writhing pile of what used to be flesh but is now only so much curious acidic liquid drops to the ground, where it slowly begins to eat into the stone of the top of the castle wall. Ohno!
Hjalmar: Oh no! …sorry. You probably hear that a lot.
Tam: Where do I need to move to to shoot the minotaur?
DM: Back, back into the courtyard.
Krackus: Oh, the minotaur is still alive?
DM: No, the minotaur is dead, take it off. I didn’t realize.
Hjalmar: It sounded like he got fucked up, you didn’t say he was dead.
DM: Yes, that little quivering pile of acidic goo is still alive.
Hjalmar: I’m kidding, I’m kidding.
DM: It oozes at you. Oh it missed. A critical failure from oozing. Let’s see what the critical failure for oozing at you is.
Krackus: He is SUPER salty.
DM: Oh it’s teleported to the nearest square adjacent to the target! So it doesn’t move. Let’s try a different one. Oh it’s stunned for one round! You can attempt to trip it. While you’re at it, you kick dust into it, and it’s blinded for 1d4 rounds, Fort negates.
Krackus: ….did it make its Fort save?
DM: YES! It saved so good it’s now a minotaur again! AND DIES. It failed its System Shock roll, which is a thing I’m bringing back.

Ohno shoots the golem, and Hjalmar does a thing, I’m not sure what – it doesn’t do anything.

DM: “Hjalmar.” As if triggered by your attack, a voice speaks from deep within the bone golem. “I’ll not have you take my plaaaaaceee…..”
Krackus: What is it, a jaded former player?
DM: This is the bone golem of Thanatos!

Mareth haul down the portcullis more, nailing a Strength check to haul it fully closed, while Vivi engages the golem. That is their last remaining effective foe, and due to the late hour, they will finish it – NEXT TIME!