Kalroth revisited! People roll dice for some reason, then the transcriber realizes that he’s started 25 minutes into the recording for no apparent reason, and starts properly at the beginning again.

DM: The transcriber berates the DM!

Welp, can’t argue with that. The group grabs and spreads its collective asses, then turns to the game, where they stand outside the sewers prepared to enter in search of whatever has slain the priests! Ellerian quickly recreates half his character sheet, it having bizarrely vanished in the interim. Nobix bitterly compains about job-hunting. They see a large rusted gate which covers the sewer entrance. One of the bars has been pried aside, allowing passage to Medium-sized creatures.

C: What Strength score would be required to pry these bars open?

A long silence.

DM: In meta terms—
Ellerian: Shut up!
DM: A good roll.

They investigate the grate further, but come away with no clues. It’s a suitable entrance for them…

DM: But it might scrape up your breastplate a bit.
C: We need Batman to pull the bolts out and slide the rest of it away.
DM: Pull the pins out of the hinges. If that doesn’t work… (blowing on it)
Ellerian: ‘Huh. Why didn’t that work on a grate?’
DM: ‘My breath seems to pass through this, it’s strange.’

They head on through, into the sewers proper, and immediately have to give consideration to the lighting. C is the only one without supporting vision of some sort, which the DM finds bizarre. Then he discovers he DOES have darkvision, so that’s a thing.

Ellerian: Gling!
DM: He makes a noise!
C: Did you just make light?
Ellerian: Yes.
DM: Oh, okay.
C: “Gragh! A word of warning next time, perhaps?”
Ellerian: What language are you speaking in?
Erik: He doesn’t speak Common.
C: Yeah. ‘I don’t speak Common, I’m also not with the group, I’m following discreetly behind and making constant Hide rolls, because I refuse to party with you people.’
Ellerian: ‘And then I use all my magic items if I think I’m about to get caught.’
DM: And repelling gauntlets that work three times per day.

A surprising number of people speak Elven, it turns out, along with Morzan running a Draconic translation. C establishes he was speaking Elven.

Ellerian: “My apologies, it was the simplest of arcane tricks so I thought it would be obvious it was forthcoming.”
Erik: “Keep our voices down. We’ll give ourselves away.”
C: Stop, stop, stop everything and come to the PC giveaway sale!
DM: Sunday, Sunday, Sunday!

The DM reminds them they’re in the old sewers, not the new ones. It could be worse! Sound reverberates so wildly in the tunnel that any noise they make returns a hundredfold and kills them! Pathfinder skills blow C’s mind, but they all search for tracks and signs.

DM: You do notice along the ground here and there, a couple spats of blood.
Morzan: It’s not fresh, is it?
C: I hope it’s not Chris’s blood! I’ll stay here and investigate this, you all go on ahead.
Erik: Shut up…
DM: While it is not wet, it is definitely not discolored so much, it is fairly recent.
C: Are we heading right for the zombie that will bite off Forrest’s head?

Ellerian detects no magic with a sweep of his casting. Giant iron platings seal off the tunnels they shouldn’t go down; Ellerian makes sure it doesn’t rotate or some shit and is mocked for his testing. A piece of paper reveals itself!

DM: Do you speak dwarven, or read?
Ellerian: Of course not! (mimes balling it up and throwing it away) It’s one of those tongues that I speak, I use it for its only purpose. (mimes blowing his nose)
DM: It’s wax paper, it’s not gonna stick to it.
Ellerian: All right, I wrap my sandwich in it.

Erik: What does it say?
DM: It says, “Right lads! We’ve sealed off all the tunnels tha’ we could. There’s a big runoff in the center!” …I don’t know why I’m reading it in an accent.
Ellerian: I don’t know why you WOULDN’T be reading it an accent.
DM: “I put in an inquiry to seal the large drain room since it’s not needed, but I’ve not heard back yet.”
C: Oh, the dwarven workers. Itchy. Tasty. We have barred the tunnel. They are coming. We cannot get out.

Ellerian proposes putting Erik’s Eidolon in the rear and C and Morzan in the front, leading somehow to discussion of Moonwalker?

C: These are welded to the tunnel, they’re not just like… secured fast or anything.
DM: Right.
C: I just got a bad feeling that on our way out they’re all gonna be open and we’re not gonna remember our way out.
Ellerian: Really? Because I was expecting one would clang down behind us, sealing us in.
C: Well, I’m sure that – WELL! Unless one of us can roll really well to detect it, I think if that’s the case, we’re just gonna be stuck.

Perception checks ensue; C laughs at Morzan, who is of course over there rolling stellar every single time. Morzan hears movement to the left – scurrying!

C: Purple worm. It’s going to explode. And kill us.
Bex: Since it’s coming to the left, is there a way I can get into the corner so it couldn’t see us? Or me at least…
DM: You’re in a four-way intersection.
C: This isn’t where we want to stand, at least.

They debate on murdering it, despite it not even being there. Bex creeps forward stealthily to scout, and finds writhing masses of rats, and a steel plate sealing this as a dead end.

C: Ugh, don’t wanna fight no rat swarm.
Bex: I’m gonna sneak my way back! Oh, this is gonna be good. 11.
C: Achoo!
DM: Oooh, Perception+8.
Erik: Rats can see like shit!

Bex runs back to the group as the swarm engages! Erik runs forward to try to use ratkin powers to smooth things over.

Erik: I attempt a Handle Animal to—
C: Handle -?! Mmm,,,
Erik: To dissuade them from moving further in,
C: YOU! SHALL NOT! RAT!
Erik: I got a 28.
DM: That’s pretty good. I’ll say that’s good enough without looking up anything.
C: Shoo! Shoo!
Ellerian: The Broom of Handle Animal +3.
DM: You leap in front of the group, and hold out your arms, and say ‘Squeak!’
Erik: …Thanks.

The rats slink off, leaving Bex to question his constant assertions over whether or not there was a body, while Nobix bemoans repeatedly that his gun will alert the entire sewer complex to their presence. Moving on, they see cave-ins blocking their exits! Ellerian blows on then gently, sending the debris clattering away. More Perception checks ensue, and Bex gets sent forward again.

C: You’re officially the scout. The Sewer Scout. The Sewer Shark as it were!
Bex: Natural 20.
Ellerian: You turn into dust and blow away, the stealthiest of all!

Bex finds the tunnel leading into an open area, full of ramshackle huts! Ratfolk live here, as they were told to expect.

C: Morlocks!
Ellerian: Grimlocks!
C: Gri—G—Arkapatang! All roads lead back to Arkapatang!

Arkapatang is a unique result on Google. Bex sneaks back, and they put Erik in the lead. Ellerian giggles for no reason.

Ellerian: The average Normilan lifespan…
Erik: I still have my Eidolon stay towards the back.
DM: You step into the warren. It’s not too far that you step before you notice that others seem to notice you, and a bit of an alarm goes up. Another scurry, scurry being a very appropriate word for them, as they make their way into their huts, shielding themselves.
Erik: I shout an appropriate greeting in my Common tongue – in my homeland’s tongue.
Ellerian: Ratfolk should communicate entirely by dance. Like West Side Story kind of shit. (starting to weave and snap, which the others quickly pick up) The rest of us are all reluctantly roped into backup.

They fail to GET ON WITH THE CEREMONY, and Erik rolls diplomacy, quite well actually!

Erik: “We only seek someone who has come down here. A murderer.”
Ellerian: To their horror, they discover ALL the ratfolk are murderers.
DM: An older male shuffles up to you, wearing white – as close to white as it can get down here, robes. “You seek the cursed one.”
Erik: “Seems so.”
Ellerian: ‘Are you a Sith?’
DM: ‘Yes!’ “Yes, he came this way. They have persuaded our young.”
Erik: “Persuaded how?”
DM: “I don’t know. They were good lads, but they followed their whims and left us. Have not seen them since.”

Erik translates for the others; the cursed one was chased by a man in armor, and they have a direction to head. Erik vows to try to return the young ones who had been lured off, and they head off (C running anime style the entire time, apparently). The path is windy and yet straightforward, leading Ellerian to question if this sewer was created by a random dungeon generator, and then up ahead they hear running water! Ellerian and C team up.

Ellerian: Me! And C! TENNAAAAAACIOOOUS C-EEEEE! Come slay with me, slay with me!
C: SLAY! The crevasse! Fill it!

Map drawing ensues, chaotically. They discover that their yellow is a permanent marker and resign themselves to hunting down alcohol, immediately after noting that they shouldn’t use alcohol on the map. With the map finally drawn and Morzan inexplicably turning into Sargassas, they roll initiative against the rats they’ve found – dire rats, which are chewing on bodies with a frenzy in their eyes. The discussion gets weird.

DM: It looks like it’s time for dessert!
C: Tonight I dine on turtle soup!
Erik: I feel like he would have that and be like, “Oh. This was a terrible idea.”
DM: That was a Robot Chicken where Gargamel finally gets the Smurfs and was like, ‘oh, this is disgusting.’
Erik: It’s worse for him, because he eats, he’s like, ‘that was subpar soup, I don’t like turtle soup.’ Four days later he’s in a doctor’s office. ‘It looks like you got some serious cancer here, what have you been eating?’ ‘I ate turtle soup made out of mutant turtles.’ ‘Yeah, yeah, that’s pretty – yeah, you’re dead. Like, tomorrow.’
Ellerian: I was gonna combine it. Shredder eating turtle soup, deciding he doesn’t like it, and then he decides to go after Smurfs.
DM: And becomes Gargamel? Gargamel’s just an old, angry Shredder. That’s great. Anyway…

Morzan blesses the party, then moves into the fray. Battle erupts as the rats and the adventurers engage; Morzan takes the first blow for 2 damage, but these rats require Con saves with their blows, because they carry disease! Bex also takes a blow, and fails the save – FILTH FEVER ENSUES, although for a while the group is oddly convinced that the disease is incurable and Bex is doomed. Ellerian gets distracted by looking up pictures of D&D properties with googly eyes stuck on them. Erik’s Eidolon bites a rat, and then the DM angrily swaps DM screen.

Erik: You’re gonna use the small one? Nice.
DM: Because I CAN’T FUCKING SEE.
Erik: I think it’s a very good decision!
Ellerian: That’s going to make things inconvenient… How good is that thing’s Will save?
DM: …Why should I tell you!?
Ellerian: I mean. Erik. (pointing to the Eidolon)
DM: Oh.
C: That’s just how he refers to his minions…
Erik: Uh, his Will save’s not good.

C Tumbles forward into the fray and unleashes hell! Not much hell, but some anyway! Nobix babbles extensively, then fires a shot into a rat.

C: And you’ll also deafen Ellerian.
Ellerian: It’s okay, his gun doesn’t speak Elvish, so I ignore it.
Nobix: My gun secretly spits out curse words in Elvish, who knows?
Ellerian: Welp, roll for initiative, sir.

Ellerian has to request official tracking on enemy health below 0, since he can drain the life force of downed foes for power. Then, begrudgingly, he lobs an Enlarge onto Morzan. She employs Judgment of Destruction, and then the game hangs a bit on weapon size increase rules before she deals 15 points of damage. Bex tells Ellerian to suck a dick, probably with cause. Bex furiously attempts to retreat from nothing, fails to Tumble, takes a 5 foot step, and misses. Morzan takes 2 damage and passes a save again, while the Eidolon is too armory to hit.

C: Companions should either be tanks or healbots, right, going by regular rules…

The Eidolon attacks, and to spite Ellerian the DM rules it superkills the rat for no reason! C questions if he has a problem with soul-sucking. It gets weird.

Ellerian: Look, there’s a reason I’m True Neutral. I’m all for doing good things, but I’m not exactly using good ends to achieve it.

A very long pause.

DM: You can’t win friends with sa-lad!
DM and Ellerian: You can’t win friends with sa-lad!
Ellerian: Where that came from –
DM and Ellerian: I don’t know.
Erik: I would love to have your character and Sargassas. ‘You take FLAVOR from dead body!’

The group argues over the pronunciation of Final Fantasy characters, like Zidane and Tidus. With the dire rats all dead, Ellerian drains their life force, and they find remains of a plate-armored figure, bearing the marks of Skeldric. They question if werebeasts are afoot, and try to figure out the relationship between the cursed one and the dire rats.

Bex: I got scratched, and I failed the Con.
C: Make a Heal check to determine his diseases!
Nobix: You get a runny nose.
Morzan: 22.
Erik: That’s more than enough to determine the type of disease.
DM: You’re afraid that your friend here might be afflicted with –
All: Mummy rot.
Erik: Really, guys?! Straight for the mummy rot?! That’s a horrible disease! Now all I can think is one of those commercials, they’re gathering money for people inflicted with mummy rot…

They start rolling some perception checks to try to re-establish the trail. Nobix blows his perception roll.

DM: Your dwarven companion just stares.
Nobix: “Eh. I don’t see anything.”
Ellerian: That’s the expression I expect to see on a dwarf.
DM: Minus experience!
Ellerian: Oh damn! I forgot whose campaign I was in! I can’t be racist against dwarves but I MUST be racist against dwarves!
DM: And that’s how I kept Ellerian third level.

They move forward and find a hole, with water flowing and blood streaks along the side. Down below they see a murky pool.

Morzan: I’ll apologize for getting our elven friend dirty.
Ellerian: “It was bound to happen sooner or later.” Faldoun’s looking at us from a grate right above us.
DM: ‘You guys done yet?’

Somehow, fifty feet of rope fails to reach the bottom of the twenty foot drop, due apparently due to a lack of Use Rope (or Knowledge: Rope). For some reason they reminisce about Their Very First Games.

DM: You clamber on down the rope, into waist-deep water and sewage mix.
Ellerian: “They promised this wouldn’t happen.”
Erik: “We are going farther than they expected we would.”
Ellerian: “I’m adding the dry-cleaning to the bill.”
C: I think dry-cleaning is all they have in this setting. Unless Faldoun has grips on a washing machine…

The short people have a certain amount of worry as they descend, but no one drowns in poo water. Erik rags on Ellerian for disliking human excrement as they venture into cramped tunnels and clamber out of the filth.

Ellerian: I cast Prestidigitation.

A long silence, while Ellerian mimes sweeping the magic over his robes.

Nobix: I guess I’ll make my way down that path then.
Erik: Easy there, Legolas. No need to waste magic items to stay clean.
Ellerian: It’s a cantrip! I can do it as often as I want.
Erik: That’s what I assume Legolas had. He’s always in battle going, ‘Prestidigitation!’
Ellerian: Each casting is good for an hour.
Erik: Does it keep dirt off you?
Ellerian: I can clean items in a one-foot cube each round.
C: And I will Create Water to get your clothes filthy again.

Ellerian cleans up people who ask politely. They venture into the old, narrow access tunnels, setting up their party to have a caravan in the middle, Dragon Quest style. Morzan, in the lead, hears water that stops and starts again, but no clear sign of where to go yet. They approach an old, rusted door, which they clean with Prestidigitation, then blow on to open.

DM: Tacked again on the door to the southeast is another note written in the dwarven language.
Ellerian: (rips up the note and throws it away)
Erik: I grab it.
DM: You piece it back together, glaring at the elf.
Ellerian: Shit language, shit sewers.
DM: It says, “Old water flushing system still works fine, we can use this in the new system. Careful, it can be a bit erratic.”

Deciding this is not the right place, they head back and go down another path that take them, again, to an iron door. Bex wrenches the door open, revealing a circular room with a deep pool of waste in the center with two more door options.

Nobix: I really wish they mapped this place out. It seems kind of foolish not to have done so.
C: (muttering franchise names under his breath)
Erik: (Terminator theme, for no known reason)
Morzan: I’m going to avoid the pool of waste, unless an aboleth or something pops out.
C: Aboleth!
Ellerian: (In a ‘don’t give the DM ideas’ tone) Oh, thanks.

They check the doors, and Bex picks the strangely well-upkept lock on one. Soup elementals appear? I don’t even know.

DM: Morzan, you open the door. The hinges groan, and behind it… is a brick wall. Tacked to the wall is a piece of wax paper. It has a couple words. Basically the dwarven equivalent of a raspberry.
Erik: Wow.
C: What?
Morzan: “Damn dwarves.”
Erik: That’s quite douchey.
Ellerian: SEE why I’m a racist?

Ellerian starts angrily changing people’s clothes to rainbow colors. They open a door and promptly get soaked by extremely questionable water. Ellerian immediately starts making cleaning motions.

Erik: In the water, a dispel spell was cast upon you!

Surprisingly, a corpse floats out! It is immediately eaten.

Ellerian: You douche fool! An elf never eats a corpse with forks and knives! I got my elven chopsticks.
DM: This corpse is very decomposed. It has been down here a long time, you don’t even need a Heal check for that. And you see rope binding his legs his arms, frayed at the bottom.
Ellerian: “Is this the work of our mysterious killer?”
Erik: “Probably too old for that. This person would have been missing a lot longer.”
Ellerian: “I imagine it must rot quickly down here. It’s impossible to say how long… If not, we have another mystery on our hands.”
Morzan: There’s nothing that identifies them as Skeldrin?
DM: No, it looks like a peasant.

They venture further in, finding the tunnel beyond has a controlled cave-in at one end, and the ground is littered with corpses tied to large rocks.

Ellerian: Boy, the Thieves’ Guild is NOT gonna be happy we discovered their spot.

Directly above them, they see a grate that could fit bodies, and perhaps misinterpreting the DM’s comments, they send Bex up there. Bex emerges onto a side street back in the city.

Erik: I feel like there should be someone walking past, already, unless it’s nighttime.
DM: It’s early morning, so…
Nobix: “Sorry, just doing maintenance! Don’t mind us!”
Bex: I could use my morningstar to scratch it…

Bex marks up the passage with makeup from a disguise kit, then disguises a nearby building as an old woman. The group briefly lapses into babbling ridiculousness that features Thor: Ragnarok and guards on Segways, mixed with the incredible banality of determining how far they had come from their original entrance. Bex ponders running off to get cured. It just devolves constantly.

Nobix: I prefer showing up to the King smelling like I just climbed out of the sewers, because I actually did.
Erik: Want me to yell louder, is that what you’re saying?
Ellerian: No, I’m prestidigitating!

DM: Does that get rid of smell, too?
Ellerian: It cleans it, so how could it not?
DM: Does it clean your skin, though?
Ellerian: It says I can clean objects. People are objects.
Erik: Mmmmm, the DM is denouncing it! It’s been struck down!
DM: Oh I see, you think people are just objects, and you can do whatever.
Ellerian: Completely in-character!
Erik: That is COMPLETELY in-character.
Bex: That’s like every characters of his.
Ellerian: WHAT!? What are you talking about? I’m not fucking Krixxix!
Erik: Hold on. I keep trying to think of heroic character you had.
DM and Morzan: Aliarra!
Erik: She just liked to break down doors, I don’t think she was heroic.
DM: You marked yourself so early on that campaign, I swear.
Ellerian: Aibghlien was heroic, he was also just intelligent. He had no patience for gods, it’s not HIS fault they kept having to deal with them.

They regroup, then go back and bash into a new circular room with a ladder up and a mysterious floating object in a murky pool.

Erik: Mage Hand that thing.
Ellerian: I was going to.
Morzan: 24 on my Perception.
DM: It looks half-sunken but you can make out what seems to be a wooden duck.
Ellerian: Since I have some power… Twilight Barrier, Mage Hand.
DM: Just regular Mage Hand?
Ellerian: Yeah.
C: It’s Twilight Barrier Mage Hand.
Ellerian: Those are two separate things.eah.
C: It’s Twilight Barrier Mage Hand.
Ellerian: Those are two separate things.
C: It’s Sapphire Nightmare Mage Hand.
Erik: Groping Touch Mage Hand.
DM: Ghost-bred Mage Hand.
Ellerian: Leave the magebred Ghost Tiger alone. It’s legitimate.
Morzan: I’ll going to take the rope.
DM: You are going to be wading into filth.
Morzan: Oh well.
DM: You going to go in? You guys have nothing, no pole – no one’s got a ten foot pole?
Ellerian: I have Mage Hand, that’s my 10 foot pole. How are we gonna lift it with a 10 foot pole, DM?
DM: You wrap something around there, get a hook in there…

Morzan hauls up a sack; it’s full of loot! As usual, Erik and Ellerian explodes into a character roll-off with no more provocation than both having 3d6 within arm’s length. They discover a strangely burned paper, and an acrid smell wafting through the air.

Ellerian: Well this is pretty much in keeping with the MUNDANE existence I was anticipating in a HUMAN city.
C: I run myself through.
Erik: I’m gonna use Knowledge(fucking, elven sewers!) I wanna know if sewers over there are just like… cities are brimming with magic.
C: Elves just don’t poop.
DM: Elves probably use their poop for fertilizer.
Ellerian: Damn straight. Also fairies.
Erik: Is your clothes made of guano?
Ellerian: Every time I need to cast a fireball, I have the mats right here.
C: Why do I speak your language again?
Ellerian: Because you enjoy torturing the most beautiful language in the world.
DM: Damn.
Bex: Asshole.
DM: Yeah.
C: Remind me to come to your rescue when you inevitably find yourself in a pickle.
Ellerian: I prestidigitated your clothes clean and this is the thanks I get!
C: I didn’t ask you.

They turn to their Knowledges to identify the smell; Nature tells them it’s natural gas! Methane! Explosive and flammable. Ellerian cautions the others to use no fire; they immediately light matches, strike flint and tinder, smoke pipes and cigars, and generally do their damndest to kill everyone. Ellerian uses Ghost Sound to mimic an explosion, in hopes of luring out anything that may come to take advantage of the others.

DM: Nothing seems to be happening. Either there’s nothing down there, or you scared it so bad it’s not going to come out.
Ellerian: That seems unlikely.
Nobix: Do we have any way to reveal a hidden fighting person We weren’t exactly subtle up there.
C: Detect Life, maybe?
Ellerian: Do I look like I have blood powers
C: I wasn’t directing at you.

They bemoan Nobix’s weapon, and Ellerian plans to snuff the sparks of his weapon every turn in combat. They send Bex on ahead, and he fortunately shrugs off the Fort save from the methane. They hear voices…. BEHIND THEM! Erik, the rearguard, peers back in to see robe figures exclaiming angrily that their money is missing out of the muck pool! Ellerian and Erik both combine Ghosts Sounds to pump up his Eidolon’s growling Intimidate check.

DM: From what skin you can see they seem to go white. “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” And they go scrambling back to the ladder.
Erik: “FREEZE!”
DM: Oh no, they’re not freezing.
Erik: I Grease the ladder!
Ellerian: I’ve got Prestidigitation up, I’ll add an unholy glow to his eyes, turn his robes black…
Erik: “Stop and answer our questions and you will be let go!”
DM: They have no intention of doing so, they’re pretty damn scared.
Morzan: Do I need to come and be the shining hero? “In the name of Skeldric!”
DM: That scares them even more. They’re now peeing their pants.
Ellerian: They’re in the right place for it…
Morzan: Now they can laugh at me, because my Intimidate roll is a one/
Ellerian: “Freeze in the name of—blub blub blub blub…”

They pump the terrified men for information; the NPCs deny all knowledge of corpses, claiming they were just working for the Thieves’ Guild and taking a few kickbacks along the way. Ellerian gets irritated.

Ellerian: “Ridiculous. All this effort to crawl through the sewers and find the location of whatever’s murdering this man and we’re met midway by three random yokels who decided to climb in through a ladder.”
Morzan: “We’ll leave you with your lives. Get out of here.”
DM: “T-t-thank you, miss, thank you—“
Ellerian: (miming soul-sucking)

With the encounter over and the hour late, they draw to a close here at this good stopping point. Will the methane kill them? MAYBE! Next time!