It’s the game! With the thing! The game begins with a lot of arguing with the telepresence laptop, since the group is going DOUBLE TELEPRESENT for this game. It’s a struggle, no lie. Last time, the group fought wererats in the sewers, and emerged victorious somehow!

DM: Among the belongings you found a yellowed scroll with a wax seal on it, though the seal was badly damaged. I think that was the last thing I said.
Ellerian: “I don’t see the need to respect the integrity of anyone who was sending messages to wererats.”
C: You don’t speak Common, right?
Ellerian: I was saying this in Elven.
DM: ‘Der rat de wereratta poodoo.’ Elven sucks in my world.
Ellerian: I’ll have to use hand signals to communicate. Speaking Elven! (making an E with his fingers) E. Speaking Draconic! (making a D)

They open the scroll and find a language no one understands; C immediately deduces it to be a grocery list. Despite the DM having a list of languages, the group shouts out their languages at him as if that would somehow change it.

DM: You had – you had something about the… you were asking about languages before…
Ellerian: The old language of the… something something.
DM: That might be unimportant.
Ellerian: I believe it was $stringundefined at the time…
DM: Then I will change my description. A little bit.

Ellerian fishes for a +2 on his Linguistics check, and determines this is a hit list! He tucks it into a scroll case.

Ellerian: I’ll hold onto this, since I’m not sure anyone else here is literate.
DM: A q-- (laughing) Ah, you arrogant asshole.
Ellerian: I didn’t say it in-character, I just narrated it.
DM: I think you say this stuff under your breath.
Ellerian: Yes, I’m Popeyeing it up over here.
DM: (muttering) ‘Nobody here can read…’ (considering how he said that) ‘Fifty points from Gryffindor…’ A quick scan around the room, and you find behind some tattered cloths what seems to be a ladder leading upwards.

They argue about who’s going up first. Then they search the body, gaining from that some unrolled loot. Erik finally elects to go up first; C and Bex inexplicably argue over what button he has to hold to climb. He reaches a sewer grate!

C: We need to all jump out at the same time. Which one of you has the purple light thaumaturgy? It needs to shoot out as the manhole cover flies up.
Nobix: My dwarf would be the one yelling ‘Cowabunga’…

They emerge into a cramped alleyway and a flood of flavor text about how nice it is to not stink, Back in the city proper, they debate their next course – though it’s fairly simple, report in and get healed of disease!

Erik: “I need a good shower.”
Nobix: “You’re not the only one.”
Erik: “As much as I do not mind living in such an area, it reminds me of home… the people on the streets do not understand the smell.”
DM: With plan in hand you emerge from the alleyways. Though now that you’ve taken the scene in, you notice there seems to be a small wagon train coming from the direction of King Street, carting away burning singed detritus. In fact there’s an acrid smell in the air of a recent fire.
Erik: Hang on, April!
C: This is refuse that is already burned? Is there any reason for this to have happened that we knew before going down there?
DM: Not that you guys know. Nothing you did.
C: Yeah, we didn’t set that room off.

They pause to inquire of the onlookers, and Morzan terrifies them by accident; they report that the Siameseovich bakery has burned to a cinder!

C: Oh! Oh no! Let me see the sign again? ‘The Sai akery’, no one’s going to shop there!
Erik: Sable! Am I gonna play my bard again? When are we playing your game again?
C: Whaaaaat? Am I going to have to dig up my – I retired that character!
Sable: My game? You mean the game without the dinosaurs?

The group applauds the shit out of this. The NPCs report a horrible explosion at the bakery, leading to a weird debate about the explosiveness of flour.

Ellerian: “Don’t we have more important things to be doing…?”
DM: “Is that an elf?!”
C: Doesn’t. Speak. English.
DM: “Huh. They are tangible.”
Ellerian: “Much to my dismay…”

Ellerian continues to grumble that they should be getting on with it. The DM just laughs.

C: How fitting that his roleplaying is the character that discourages roleplaying for the rest of us!
Erik: What’s funny is that he understands this conversation in Common! He knew a bakery burned down!
C: “We have no rope holding you here. If you wish to go on, by all means do so.”

C and Erik argue over whether Ellerian is RPing correctly; Morzan cheerfully suggests that he speaks Common and has been lying all this time.

C: ‘Good sir, look, a dwarf with no accent.’
DM: He starts following you.
Ellerian: Oh, this is why you gave us spells back.
C: He is the encounter!
DM: The city watch mobilizes to take out the rampaging elf!
Ellerian: It was self-defense!
C: ‘We can’t understand a word he says, but it’s obviously evil!’

They suddenly hear a shrill noise in the air, like a whistle, and then cloaked men surge out of the alley, daggers in hand, to charge down some little shop with a sign of a bull sitting at a table with a teacup!

DM: You’ve heard of this teashop before, even though you’ve not quite gone there yourself. This is a shop owned by one of the heroes of yore. Ignir of the Fjordborn has opened up a small humble teashop in his retirement years.
Nobix: Should we be worried about the bunch of men with daggers running towards the shop?
C: Not when there’s a signal to announce their presence. (playing the Zelda whistle)
DM: It would probably take time for the watch to get here. You could act now!
C: I’m sure Ellerian will hear none of that.
Ellerian: Hey, if you guys all charge off into the fray…

They do, though with a dozen enemies facing them they worry a little about their odds. The DM offers to draw a map, the players accept, and the DM refuses to draw a map. Sable takes the stage, sitting in her uncle’s teashop and nursing wounds!

Sable: Seeing as how my entire family is now presumed dead, it’s a bit of a shock…

Sable introspects for a while, and also sews – but then, she hears the whistle that the others had!

Sable: Do I recognize it, with my local knowledge of local things?
DM: Uh, this one probably not so, but you can give me a roll…

An 18 tells her of whistles that are bad omens at best. Ignir is already coming out of the back room loaded down with javelins as Sable leaps into action. Initiative! Extensive discussion of ninjas kidnapping presidents! With no targets in the tea shop yet, Sable holds her action. Ellerian moves forward to blast a Color Spray into four of the foes; one saves, the rest are out of the combat. Ignir pins an assassin to the wall, while Morzan casts Divine Favor.

Erik: Wasn’t one of our characters a baker?
Ellerian: Drusila.
Erik: … Drusila’s dead. She’s – the bakery. She died.
Ellerian: Yup.
Erik: You didn’t care.
Morzan: Ellerian doesn’t know who that is!
Erik: I meant you. The player. Did not care.
Ellerian: I don’t believe Drusila’s dead! An explosion, against someone with a Reflex saving throw and Evasion? Drusila’s literally standing in the middle of the bakery going, ‘that was fun. I will whip my way out of this.’ That’s what I expect, Drusila is whipping one boulder out of the way at the time.

Bex rolls terribly and misses, and C charges into the fray with many feat/feet jokes that surely aren’t old. Erik sends in Anda.

DM: Your ghostly weird-looking rat thing moves in! It does look like a giant rat, right?
Erik: Yeah, it can’t look like a natural creature so people won’t confuse it for a big rat.
DM: Maybe we should have more concern about its reactions…
Ellerian: In this weirdass town?
DM: It is a town filled with wizards and other things, so maybe not so bad.
Erik: If it was that bad I’d probably dress him up and put stuff on him so he looks a little more…
Ellerian: ‘Why does he have a jester’s cap, I don’t understand.’
Erik: ‘It makes the kids laugh.’
Ellerian: ‘That’s crying…’

Anda goes to town, while Nobix draws his weapon and moves to fire--

Sable: Sorry guys, I need to oil the cat, I’ll be right back.
DM: Okay, enjoy it.
C: Oil…?
Ellerian: That’s – not how cats work, you know that, right?
Nobix: I think her cat is on fire?
DM: And she’s gonna throw oil on it, ugh.
Ellerian: It’s an electrical fire. That’s okay, right? One of those you don’t throw water on…

Nobix laboriously slays an assassin, and Ellerian bemoans the lack of a soul to suck, reminding the DM that yes that counts, and the assassin should be alive and bleeding out. Sable sees the enemies and is reminded of enemies she’d see the night before, and so draws out her dagger to fling stones into the fray. Ellerian gives up and goes full Snape, apparently? An assassin dives through the window with a magnificent Tumble, failing to hit Sable with a 23?! A knife misses Ignir, a knife misses Sable, and a Color Spray drops only one foes.

DM: I’m gonna say the first one who passed saved again. “Ha ha ha, sucker!”

Morzan whacks a dude for four points of damage, which them goes to 6 when she remembers her Strength bonus. Ignir annihilates a dude with a charge. With a mighty ‘hi-yah!’, C delivers hit for 11 damage, dropping his foe. Bex mutters in the background, while Nobix reloads, since his weapon is a gun and takes too long to reload.

Sable: So they seem to be really targeting her since they went past the minotaur, though she is not much daunted by their feeble attempts to strike her, so she will take this thing… where is it… can you guys see it?

It sure is a thing, the audio-only transcriber can assure you, and Sable hits with it for 9. Ignir curb-stomps the last guy in the shop.

DM: Who is alive still? The ones down there with Sable – THESE four assholes are unconscious –
C: To be sucked up by the elf!
DM: Anda still have a ridiculous AC or does he not have Mage Armor on?
Erik: Huh?
DM: So it’s 23 now?
Erik: No no, with the Mage Armor it’s 27.
DM: That’s right. Broken! Time to get some spellcasters on that pet.
Erik: You just gotta kill the summoner!
DM: It’s kinda hard when you got a big rat in your face.
Erik: If you want to break the system, you could just be all, ‘Oh, he hits you!’
DM: He hits!
Erik: It hits! 20 points of damage!
C: Armor Class of 60. Oh well…
Ellerian: Yeah, it’s a good thing that doesn’t happen.

Out of spells, Ellerian fires at a guy, turning his smile into a frown with a crit. The damage roll isn’t stellar, though, and the guy survives yet another round with Ellerian hitting him. A Color Spray rave erupts, as C complains about Glitterdust.

Ellerian: Poof, you’re a vampire. Poof, you’re a vampire.

The DM calls for Perception checks. Plenty of people do well.

DM: You notice on top of one of the rooftops a man in a velvet cape. You notice a glint off one of his beautiful rings. He’s got a crossbow aimed at the minotaur.
C: Which minotaur?
DM: The only minotaur. Ignir.
C: Oh, Sable’s a kittycat now.
Morzan: Yes, but I know who that is. “Fjordborn, get down!”
C: Fjornborn?!
Erik: No – wait –

While Morzan goes to tackle Ignir down, others of the group have bigger, weirder concerns.

Erik: I’m trying to convince you to eat it.
Ellerian: You don’t have to wave it at me to convince me to eat it!
DM: I’m going to give you a hint and tell you not to do that.
C: I like how it’s shaped, you just carve a couple eyes into it and you have a Decepticon symbol there.
DM: He’s much larger than you.

Ignir dives back down the stairwell, and disaster is averted. For him.

Bex: Can I sneak up on someone?
DM: Nooo….
Bex: I guess I’ll just attack the next person I see.
Ellerian: ENEMY! The next ENEMY you see!

Bex cracks a dude’s femur, who survives despite not knowing why, while Drusila explains the notion of oiling a cat – if the cat doesn’t get oil, the cat licks pans. Okay then? C drops the guy who Sable whacked.

DM: But you do not kill him outright, so this guy can still suck his life force out.
C: I feel great about that.
DM: One remains down in the teashop. Ignir is happy this didn’t happy ALL inside his shop. He’s gotta clean up teeth.

Andon leaps into the teashop and starts gnawing on the attacker, A few final blows mop up the fray.

Nobix: “So! Anyone explain what the hell just happened here?”
DM: The minotaur looks over, looks up at you and says, “I believe they were trying to assassinate Sable.”
Sable: DM, can you speak up just a hair?
DM: Nope.
Sable: Please.
Ellerian: No… he can’t…
Morzan: “Is there any reason?”
DM: “They were probably the same ones who burned down the Siameseovich bakery. Somebody wants the Siamesoviches dead.”
Ellerian: “These ones will wake up soon. You should restrain them.” (sucking the life force out of another one)

The assassins only had trash drops, Ellerian works on figuring out how much arcane reservoir he got.

Ellerian: I LIKE this class.
C: You turn people’s souls into Color Sprays?
Ellerian: No! Not yet. I just make them more powerful with people’s.. life force.
Sable: You’re a defiler?!
Ellerian: No! Not exactly.
C: I like that! It sounds very apt!
Ellerian: No! He’s talking about a specific thing. Which I’m not.
C: Ellerian the defiler.
DM: Ignir looks among you all and says, “Are you the ones they sent into the sewers?”
Morzan: “You can’t smell us?”
DM: “I had to ask.”
C: “How do you know about that?”
DM: “I have ears everywhere.”
Erik: We see two nubs where his ears used to be.
DM: (making a skittering motion) ‘Now they are back.’

The backstory of the old campaign gets somewhat confused.

C: She was training a new generation of doorkickers... One turned on her! She blamed herself.
Ellerian: Damn you, Swordsages of Ren!
C: She went looking for the original doorkicker temple. The swordsages… the evil uncles. It’s true. All of it.

Ignir asks them to take Sable with them, looking over to the traumatized Banglasharan. Hearing her name, she looks up.

Nobix: “Haven’t fought much before?”
C: That’s the strangest-sounding dwarf you’ve ever heard.
DM: He speaks Common very well.
Sable: “I’ve had some training, ma’am.”
Morzan: I don’t think you’ve noticed, but that’s actually a he-dwarf…
Sable: “I’ve had some training, sir.”
Nobix: Damn it, I know my voice is high, but…

Ignir vouches for Sable, even talking her up a little. Sable wonders if he too is in danger, though Ignir can handle himself – and if Sable is gone, he’ll no longer be in danger.

DM: “Someone wants the Siameseovitches dead. All of them. Gone.”
Ellerian: Someone who hates stupid last names.
C: Heh heh! Whoa, shots FIRED.
Nobix: I thought MY character had a bad name.
Morzan: The Beerfists are next!

They briefly join the Cult of Cruroar, where everyone must be named Cruroar, under Ellerian’s guidance as the Cruroarherd. Sable rises to join them, describing herself as stocky and well-muscled and wearing armor and student’s clothing. Her description goes on for a while.

Nobix: The description of MY guy is that he has a gun!
Ellerian: That’s not something to be proud of.
DM: Ignir places a hand on her shoulder and says, “Do not despair, little one and have faith. Your mother is more resourceful than you think. There may be hope that she is alive.”
Ellerian: “So WHAT’s with the Banglasharan?”
Sable: Well, I’m going to give Ignir a big hug then.
DM: She returns it. Crushing you. You’re dead, I’m sorry…
Erik: “She has been invited into our group.”
Ellerian: “I feel like the danger is not much less around us.”
Morzan: Ignir crushes Sable. Ellerian -- (makes his soul-eating noise)
Ellerian: Why can’t I combine this class with Thrallherd…?
DM: I would kill you. Literally kill you in your sleep. I would smother you with [our cat].
Morzan: Poor cat! Accessory to murder!
DM: Yeah, a literal accessory to murder.

They ditch Ignir, apparently, as Ignir talks to the watch (or is arrested by them for a DUM). Back to the temple of Skeldric, where they bemoan the lack of showers and how smelly they are. A weird Wizard of Oz parody erupts at the entrance, but they make it to the sergeant-at-arm. Ellerian makes gestures.

DM: What are you doing?
Ellerian: I conjured a handkerchief, wiped my face clean, and de-conjured it. Prestidigitation! Look, I’m a wizard, I’m gonna act like one.
DM: A flower.
Erik: ‘Ah, I see you all have come… to the GUN SHOW.’
Ellerian: I’m not Normilan!

They offer their report, detailing the found bodies and the wererats and the possible lycanthropy they might have.

Morzan:“I believe my companions – I don’t think they’re infected with actual lycanthropy, but…”
Ellerian: Better safe than sorry.
Morzan: “Better safe that sorry.”
Ellerian: Morzan is my ventriloquism spell!
DM: “Yes, yes. Take them to the battle clerics, we’ll see what we can do about that.” They beat the disease out of you…
Erik: ‘No, you idiots, you took them to the torture chamber, take them to the healing chamber!’ It’s worse…
Ellerian: At least it’s not the meditation chamber…

The group bitterly anticipates fighting an antlion for a sand ruby to cure their diseases, which the DM quickly denies while erasing something, all shifty-eyed. Healing occurs, though C hits a rough spot since as a dhampir he is harmed by positive energy. In the meantime, Faldoun pops up, with an old man in full plate by his side.

C: Magneto. If Magneto can do it, I don’t see why this guy can’t do it.
Ellerian: (apropos of nothing) Don Quixoooooote!

It’s Griffin Harles! They report back to Faldoun, while Erik angrily looks over Ellerian’s sheet to check his list of languages. None of them admit that they could read it, which is mostly true, though they do identify the list as a hit list. Faldoun sends them off to see Edmond Domaz, a herald wise in his work who can perhaps identify the seal they could not.

Ellerian: I’m privately wondering to myself, are we getting paid for this or something?
DM: “See the sergeant-at-arms for your payment.”
Ellerian: ‘STOP READIN MY MIND!’

They hit up said sergeant out of blind optimism, and he takes note of Sable thanks to her famous mother.

Sable: “Sir, may I ask you one question?”
DM: “Absolutely.”
Ellerian: ‘That was it!’
Sable: “Do you know why someone was trying to kill my family?”
DM: “No idea.”
C: He said, a little too quickly.

The guard sympathizes, and encourages Sable to go out and look for answers. In the meantime, she is permitted to stay in the barracks--

Ellerian: (out of literally fucking nowhere) I still can’t believe you guys went and saw the X-Files when you could have seen Mulan.

Erik: What…
C: Huh?!
Erik: …the fuck?!
DM: Oh, this is a blast from the plast.

The DM and Ellerian explain that in the past, some of them had gone to see Mulan in theaters, while others of their group, including Sable, had gone to see the X-Files movie. Some of the people in this group have serious history. Anyway, the group goes to get cleaned up and, in C’s case, negative-energy healed; he is mocked with Twilight references and eldritch blasted to health somehow. It gets weird.

C: As it turns out, Drano is not a phoenix down.
Ellerian: If you drink Drano, there’ll be no gas.
DM: That’s Beano.
Ellerian: My version is also accurate. When given the opportunity, Ellerian will address Sable in Elven to check for fluency.
Sable: Oh, that reminds me. DM, I never asked you what languages she can speak…

After some debate, Sable is able to speak Elvish! Ellerian, finding all non-elves speaking Elvish to be horrible, merely shrugs.

Ellerian: “It’s good to see you have some fluency in a proper tongue.”
C: (heaving one HUGE sigh)
Sable: “Thank you, sir. I’m afraid I haven’t had much chance to practice. My Elven instructor was also Banglasharan and he did not favor speaking to me outside of class, so I only learned what little things I could learn in class.”
Ellerian: “Given that the language takes longer to learn than your kind lives, I can’t hold that against you.”
Sable: “Thank you, sir.”
C: (sighing so loudly he can be detected on seismometers)
Sable; What? I’m being nice in a dickish way.
Erik: Seems the battlemage clerics could not heal his stick-in-ass-itis.
Nobix: That’s a difficult condition to heal. Takes a trained professional.
C: What, asshole?
Ellerian: Dude, I saved your life! So easily you forget!

Ellerian has to remind C of grabbing his hand post-failed sewer-pit vault. Commoner food erupts and they oil Sable, apparently. It gets weird.

Ellerian: We are joined by a hunter with a speech impediment who has no articles of nobility. Commoner Fudd.
DM: …It’s not funny and I laughed! Why did I laugh?!
Morzan: (abuses Ellerian)

The deeds and motivations of Skeletor are questioned. It later comes out that Sable found Ellerian to be decent and kind from the above interaction, which everyone finds hilarious. Introductions go around.

Morzan: He’s Vampire Hunter C.
Erik: Ah ha ha, you’re one letter away from Vampire Hunter D.
Ellerian: …way to keep up, Erik!

Sable continues to identify Ellerian as a defiler. They ultimately reconvene, everyone showing up. Ellerian is hassled for joining the group, because he’s an arrogant jerk! Off they head, down a dark street, to the places of Edward Domahz.

C: Hello, Mr. Dumbass
Ellerian: I was thinking it too…
DM: The sign on the door says ‘Open’, and so you open the door into a spacious abode, though the clutter and garments make it feel far more cramped. Art of family crests and seals are plastered over the walls and bookshelves line said walls. Behind a tall desk littered with papers, paints, and a bit of gold leaf sits a stately-looking man with thick spectacles and an inquiring look. “Yes, how can I help you today?”
Ellerian: (opening the scroll case)
DM: Oh my god he pulled a sword out!
Ellerian: My scroll case! I don’t even have a sword on my person!
DM: You walk into the studio, producing the scroll case, and hand him the yellowing scroll. “Oh, what is this?”
Ellerian: “That’s what we need to ask you.” I hope he spoke in Elvish…
DM: “Oh, it’s a scroll.”
C: Oh ho ho! Snarky! Snarky Snarkson!
Ellerian: Thank GOD we’ve come to the right place,

Domaz begins a muttering study of the seal on the scroll – a LOT of muttering, as he consults a book. The seal is that of the Orsovon house, a founding house of the empire. The house has no presence in the capital, having returned to their own province. Apparently leaping off his desk to his doom, he consults a different old tome, determining that one Maxius was recently inducted into the Skeldric order – but they don’t know if he’s one of the dead ones. Most of the list are lesser houses who owe vassalage to greater ones, hinting at deep politics behind this list. Sable discovers that a Banglasharan house is on the list, explaining why someone tried to kill a schoolmate of hers!

DM: “At the end here, it speaks of meeting up with the author at some manor of some sort. In fact if I recall correctly – I don’t have the records here, of course -- I believe the Orsovo manor still remains here in the city, although obviously remaining derelict and empty for several years. Perhaps that is where he lies.”
Erik: “Does it mention a time?”
DM: “No, I imagine it was probably meant to be done after the list was complete.”

Domaz makes a copy of the letter through mundane means, rolls a 1, destroys it, and is misinterpreted as the villain forever. Or not, though the characters (or players) are feeling slightly itchy here since he requested the seal.

DM: “If you wish to keep the seal, that is fine, I was just curious.”
Ellerian: No, we’ll let him have it. We’re privately thinking this, not being all openly, ‘J’accuse!’
C: Even if it’s true I don’t mind furthering the villain’s plot…

Copy made, they promise somewhat ominously to ‘be in touch’, and the group scrambles off to the Temple of Skeldric. Behind, Domaz laughs maniacally and vows to kill and kill and kill, apparently.

DM: You are brought before Faldoun himself! He looks up from his desk.
Ellerian: (slapping the list down)
DM: He reads it, emotionless, until he starts getting to the names. His brow furrows.
Ellerian: “It cannot be coincidence that a list of names of founding fathers of this empire has been produced as an assassins hitlist, at the same time heroes of this empire are being attacked in its central town.”
DM: “This is very troubling news indeed.”
Erik: (skeptically, at something else entirely) What?!
C: Erik is incredulous!
DM: ‘What? This is normal…’

Faldoun all but orders them to the manor house. Erik translates for Ellerian, who speculates that it would be nice to be able to afford their inns. Erik turns back to Faldoun.

Erik: “Payment. Err, my comrade here wishes to know about a form of payment.”
Ellerian: Of course, he understands what I was saying, because I was saying it in Elvish, which he speaks.
Erik: Then he’s ignoring you.
Nobix: It’s kind of confusing figuring out what I do and don’t understand.
Ellerian: If I’m saying it, I don’t think you understand it.
DM: He pulls out a piece of paper, picks up a pen, rather clumsily…
Ellerian: He’s illiterate!
DM: He’s not illiterate, he just doesn’t write very often.
Ellerian: (miming writing) X. ‘Me Faldoun say give money… Why do I write so bad when I can speak competently?’
Sable: He should take out a sword and write with his sword.

With money and a mission to their names, the game ends here. Next time: A MANOR.