Oh no, a game! We rejoin our heroes receiving mail at their house; having returned home to the capital of the kingdom and engaged in mild RP with beloved NPCs, they have now reached their rented house.

Normilan: OH MY GOD! It’s infested with dire rats!

Really weird discussion occurs, and Cruroar imagines every game report rewritten as gay fanfiction.

Cruroar: Just sitting there going, ‘no! no!’
DM: ‘No! No! That’s kinda hot – I mean, no!’
Eilnys: Fap fap fap fap.
Cruroar: ‘And he said, Moradin Stormhammer!’
DM: ‘Oh no! A line of young men were lined up to fuck my ass! Wait, this was an actual game report, sorry.’

Eilnys has mail but is illiterate; she shanghais Quirion into reading it for her. There is much muttering and wondering about the various contents.

Normilan: Who’s Councilor Gatekeeper?! Is that the dragon?
DM: You know what you know, man.
Brunt: Is that Krog emote or his actual seal? Either way it’s awesome.
DM: Little from column A, little from column B. When he writes informally he tends to just draw it.

They also get their Hats of Disguise. Much lame japery ensues. Tasha is reminded of their mission, which is to kidnap the heir of the Seven Clams Under One Star.

Eilnys: That means we keep her alive.
Tasha: Not necessarily.
Cruroar: Yes.
Eilnys: Oh yes.
Giles: We gotta keep her alive.
Eilnys: Because if she dies, the two kingdoms go to war.
Tasha: They don’t need to know she’s dead.
Cruroar: They’ll find out!
Eilnys: Okay, that means I’m going to be bodyguarding that girl the entire time and tasting her food, because if she’s dead, you know who I’m blaming? Her.
Tasha: I had nothing to do with it, I’m out of character.
DM: Quirion looks kind of sad that no one wrote to him, but then he realizes, who would write to him?
Tasha: “I would write to you, Quirion. If we ever go our separate ways, I would write to you.”
DM: “Well, I hope that day never comes.”

Awkward silence.

Tasha: “Well, we never know what the future holds. Whatever our future holds, Quirion, we must face it.

Tasha wonders where Quirion comes from. The DM points out she’d never asks. She does.

DM: “Actually I kind of wandered here in my studies. If you’re asking where I lived most of my life, it was actually in the Empire of the Rose.”
Tasha: “What did you do there, before you came here?”
DM: “About the same. There was a little more tomb-digging there. I was really interested in tombs. There’s a lot to learn down there. But I didn’t get into too much? And I decided this wasn’t the life for me. I needed to go out and see more things. And do more things. And BE more things – well, not the last one, because I am still an elf, and I plan to stay that way, BUT I was not getting the experience I needed back there, so I thought, I need to branch out, I need to get outside of the empire, so I came here. Caught the first ship I could find! …that I could pay for. You know, there were nicer ships, actually, but I didn’t actually board them because I was a little poor at the time. So I came to – well, actually, it wasn’t here, it was in a harbor, but I ended up making my way here, and I heard the legend of you, and I thought, if only I had the chance to go on adventures with the Lady Tasha, I would discover so much. I would experience so much, and BOY was I right.”
Tasha: “Don’t you ever miss home?”
DM: “Meh.”
Tasha: “You didn’t leave family or friends? You didn’t leave someone behind?”
DM: “Not too many friends. I mean my family is still back there, but you don’t understand what it’s like for we elves. I mean a separation of YEARS is like days to you. So it’s okay. And I’m sure my family is happy knowing I’m out here doing what I love..”
Cruroar: Flash over it. ‘He’s finally out of the house! Wooooo!’ (miming firing guns into the air)
DM: ‘We invented firearms just to celebrate! Yeeha!’
Eilnys: How do you know they weren’t just shooting off magic?
DM: He was very distinctly making a trigger-pull gesture.
Cruroar: Yup.

Tasha finally point-blank asks Quirion what he’s running from, informing him that among HER mail is a summons demanding she surrender him to the Empire of the Rose.
Quirion is baffled, but the rest of the group just… doesn’t react. Normilan attempts to escape for his dinner date with Zeus until the DM informs him that A, it’s ‘Zook’, and B, that was last night. Eilnys decides to go see Captain Slamhand, surprisingly. Sargeant Sheedy intercepts her, checks to see if the Captain is in, and informs her the Captain is in no mood for unofficial guests.

Eilnys: I speak Slamhand… “All right, you’ve done your job. Now it’s time for you to move away. Nothing bad is going to happen.”
DM: Give me a Diplomacy.
Eilnys: Eilnys. I’d be better with Intimidate.
DM: You could always Intimidate Wort.
Eilnys: I don’t want to intimidate Wort. I LIKE Wort. That’s the problem. So I’m trying to find my d20 so I can give you the goddamn Diplomacy roll. Yeah, no, I got 11.
DM: He chews on the inside of his lip for a moment, clears his throat, and is like, “I’m sorry, the Captain doesn’t want any visitors. Now you step outside. I’ve gotta go on patrol.”
Tasha: Wink wink!
DM: He motions you outside of the door, shuts it behind him, gives you a salute, and then marches off.
Eilnys: Is the door locked?
DM: Nope.
Eilnys: That’s my Wort. He’s my friend.
Tasha: ‘Captain, Wort told me to come in here after I left.’
Normilan: Don’t throw him under the bus…
DM: He’s fired. ‘This was the only place I belonged!’ Your new villain…

Eilnys heads back in and knocks again, forcing Captain Slamhand to acknowledge she won’t go away. She pushes in, finding a liquored-up Slamhand with his boots up.

Eilnys: “Why are you drinking alone, lad?”
DM: “Strange question from a dwarf.”
Eilnys: “I didn’t ask why you were drinkin’, I asked why you were drinkin’ alone.”
DM: “I stand by my statement.”
Normilan: ‘He’s got me there…’
Eilnys: “Talk to me, we’re friends. I’m not gonna ask ya to go into yer entire problem, I’m not gonna ask ya to do anything, just talk.”
DM: “The hell brought you up here anyway?”
Eilnys: “Krostun.”
Cruroar: Yep, he’s a superhero.
DM: “What’d he do?”
Eilnys: “He wrote.”
DM: “When’d you learn to read?”
Eilnys: “I didn’t, I had someone read it to me.”
DM: “Great. So what’d he say? Go bother Slamhand?”
Eilnys: “No, he didn’t tell me to go bother you?”
DM: “Then why’re you bothering me, if it’s his fault!”
Eilnys: “Is there a reason yer not lookin’ to go up the proverbial ladder, or are you just – no, no, hear me out—“
DM: He leans forward in his desk and slams the bottle down, hard enough that you can actually here the bottle crack slightly. “My liege died. On my watch. Thank you Lady. I don’t deserve a promotion. Out of that.” Leans back in his chair again, pointedly slams his boots down on the desk, and pointedly takes another pull of his drink.
Normilan: There goes the desk. ‘Aww, crap, this day keeps getting worse!’
Brunt: ‘My desk was broken on my watch!’
DM: ‘I don’t deserve a new desk out of that!’

Eilnys is unsatisfied, pointing out that Slamhand couldn’t have stopped magic. Cruroar attempts to skip the depressing cutscene. Eilnys gets pissed at everyone interrupting her RP and tries to quite angrily.

Eilnys: “We’re fighters, we think of things one way!”
DM: “You’re…. a fighter. I’m a Captain. It was my job. I failed it. Can’t be any clearer than that. No making excuses for that.”
Eilnys: “Then you gotta do better, don’tcha.”
DM: “So I’ll do better-“
Eilnys: “You’re not gonna do better drinking!”
DM: “You’d be surprised how good I am at drinking! Give me a little time to deal with the fact that I just tried to get a promotion from my own incompetence!”
Eilnys: “You’re not incompetent! You are not incompetent.

Slamhand bitterly agrees to think about what she said if it gets her to leave. Eilnys makes him not tell Brunt he’s trying to refuse the promotion.

DM: “You didn’t tell him, did you?”
Eilnys: “Hell no.”
DM: Meanwhile, outside the door. (miming a gasp of horror)

Brunt angrily insists he doesn’t smash people into walls out of anger. Eilnys and Slamhand squabble over why she’s even talking to him, being the smashy sort herself, and he warns her away from desk jobs.

Eilnys: Slap him on the shoulder. Give him a couple of gold pieces.
Tasha: (cracking up) ‘Here you go, BEGGAR!’
Brunt: If you want to get him off his feet, snatch the bottle from him. At the very least he’ll have to get up and get another one of them.
DM: Eilnys arrives at your house… through the air.

Eilnys finally leaves the captain to, apparently, asphyxiate himself autoerotically. The DM turns to Normilan, who looks just perplexed.

DM: Should we come back to you?
Normilan: He’s going to have an existential crisis in a moment…
DM: You all see Normilan staring up at the gibbet from the roof. His hands are twitching. Rope is coming from them as if by magic! Rays of ‘kill me now’ are radiating off Normilan!

Cruroar attempts to go talk to his girlfriend, but the DM points out she said in her letter she was going on a trip. Tasha tries to ask backstory questions, establishing that the Kingdom of Urm-Vessing and the Empire of the Rose have little traffic, having no common borders. Tasha finally shows him the letter.

DM: “Wow, they INSULTED you by how small they wrote your name. Well, it’s kinda convenient that they won’t BE here when they show up, ISN’T it?”
Tasha: “It – it is, but aside from that being the least of my concerns, why are they looking for you?”
DM: “Lady Tasha, I didn’t want to say it in public, but I’m pretty sure – see, the Empire of Rose, well, there was a human kingdom, and there was an elven kingdom, and they’re both under the empire? And I’m pretty sure the elven half is kind of worried about certain things that happened under certain things that we associate with have done.”
Tasha: “Okay. So. Talk to me like I’m a child…”
DM: “Normilan… grey elf kingdom…”
Normilan: Oh, this is going back to me? Crap.
Brunt: All roads lead to Normilan.
DM: “Normilan… kind of… collapsed… the kingdom of Stonehome?”
Cruroar: Oh my god! Your kill count includes a kingdom! High-five!
Normilan: (a sigh so weary it’s Brunt-worthy)
Tasha: So you commit regicide, he commits kingdom-crushing. So when we send people in to topple governments, Normilan is the agent.
DM: What’s that? Heraldicide?
Normilan: That could work.
DM: Why do we need a term for this?!

Quirion claims he’s innocent, ESPECIALLY compared to Tasha; Cruroar makes insulting and baffling comparisons to OJ Simpson. Tasha tries to make him swear, making it clear she’ll throw him to the wolves the second a shred of proof shows up. Quirion protests that it’d be a diplomatic incident if the Empire just showed up to take him.

Tasha: “If they show up at our door, you’re not here.”
DM: “I’ll try, but last time I tried to pull a ‘you’re not here’ trick, you remember how that went. A door attacked me… But you have to admit that was VERY unlikely. No one saw that one coming!”
Tasha: “Quirion, we will do everything in our power to support you…”

Tasha questions her relationship to the church and its to the kingdom, even as the DM points out she’s attempted to quit and found her own church a few times.

Normilan: Destruction of a culture: ethnocide.
DM: Ooh, there we go! That’s exactly what you did. Good work, Normilan. I’m glad you found that.

Tasha contemplates folding Quirion into the church to protect him. The DM turns to Giles, who is completely baffled and lost about his own backstory as per usual. On to Brunt!

Cruroar: He’s Littlefinger. The Slamhand. All the soldiers are different parts of the fingers.
DM: To be honest I thought you were going for a Land Before Time thing there.
Cruroar: Aww… man, that’s even better! Aww, shit! Fuck.
DM: Well, Littlefoot, what you got for me?
Tasha: What’s going on , Littledick? I mean foot, Littlefoot?
DM: I don’t remember… These things got sinister around movie 33…
Cruroar: That would explain why he watched that one music video so damn much. The one with the dick hitting the woman.
DM: I REALLY don’t remember this past of the Land Before Time. Though there WAS all that talk about ‘three-horns’. Anyway, Brunt…

Brunt writes a reply to his letter and personally delivers it. Then goes to get some food, apparently a big ol’ messy sammich. Normilan finds Zook mending a tapestry to talk about his response from the Fraternity of Mages. Zook gives him a ring!

DM: “This is your sigil. You show this, it proves you’re a member of the fraternity.”
Normilan: “I still have to take care of a few things…”
DM: “You’re still a member. We all had those provisional things to do. That’s kind of how I ended up working here, actually. Advancing magic among the people, well how better to do that than as a court mage? But I think you’ve got a good line on that, look at all the good you’re doing!”
Normilan: “Hasn’t amounted to anything yet, but hopefully!”
DM: “Ha, that’s now what I heard! What about that dead and broken… uh, skull… lich… that I heard about?”
Normilan: “It was a group effort.”
DM: “You don’t have to do it individually, the point is your magic was there! Slinging spells… I assume… you didn’t sit it out, did you?”
Normilan: “No no no—“
DM: “I’d be REALLY disappointed if you tell me after all of this, you were just sitting in the back, eating other people…”

Normilan and Zook get bitter and personal, and Normilan is killed by his illusory nose? He inquires of Zook about the Council of the Fraternity, and gets confirmation that the Councilor is in fact the Gatekeeper, the dragon outside the dwarven kingdom, and that the councilor who voted against him was in fact a grey elf.

Normilan: “Anyway, you need uhhh… magical aid?”
DM: “You’re trying to get it out of the way early, huh?”
Normilan: “A year goes by quick sometimes.”

Normilan reflects that it was kind of the dwarf mage to submit the spell he’d created for the Council’s appraisal. Zook reflects that the requirement is to make wizards be creative, not just stagnant in books.

Cruroar: Some apprentice back there is going, ‘No sandwich making spells! There’s like 50 of them!’
DM: ‘Everyone tries that one! Fortunately, Normilan is – ‘ Normilan turns around, his two fists are sandwiches.
Normilan: ‘Oh my god!’
DM: ‘Fists of Stone-ground Wheat!’

Normilan asks for, and gets, a brief explanation of how living stone dwells in the depths of every great mountain.

Normilan: “You think there are wards around it?”
DM: “Around which?”
Normilan: “The heart of the mountain.”
DM: “The elven one?”
Normilan: “Yes.”
DM: “Um. You would know better than I, you went there.”
Normilan: “This is true.”
DM: “I’ve never seen it. You have. I’ve never fought golems to get to it…”

Zook demands Normilan not do any ridiculous penance that gets him killed, getting somewhat morally relativist as he compares good and evil. It gets weird.

Tasha: ‘You can have the fruit. BUT STAY OFF THE VEGETABLES!’
Cruroar: The evil lord Duke Vegetarious steals all the tasty vegetable from the land!

Zook begs Normilan to think long and hard about his choices, despite his Wisdom score.

DM: ‘I know you have that -1 and all…’
Normilan: Minus 2, thank you.
DM: ’Oh, god, you’re doomed! Just think about what you think is a good idea and do anything but that!’

Zook wishes him good luck and makes Normilan promise not to eat anybody; Normilan begs off that vow.

DM: “I’m concerned about you, Normilan. You used to make that promise without hesitation.”
Normilan: “But people are so delicious!”
DM: “How do you know?”
Normilan: “I’m telling you, in the County of Prole, it’s all or nothing!” I pat him on the back, as lightly as I can.
DM: (mimes Normilan eating Zook)
Tasha: ‘Mmm!’
Normilan: ‘Tender!’
DM: ‘No no, we gnomes are all bones! Bones and nose!’

Cruroar writes two letters, one for if he dies. The DM mocks him for being too weak to lift the quill. Tasha goes to petition the high priest.

DM: The underpriest looks at you with some skepticism.
Cruroar: Did you say the Uberpriest?
DM: Yes. Then puts you in his car and drives you to the high priest.
Tasha: So much better than the Lyft priest.

Tasha gets a brief interrogation, then makes a rude gesture at the underpriest as he walks off, to the shock and scandal of the rest of the initiates nearby. She bluffs her way out of trouble, and is taken back to the high priest for the traditional greetings and obeisance. Tasha’s player audibly struggles to roleplay without being a douche as she beseeches the priest’s aid to shield Quirion, The high priest finds the situations strange.

DM: “There must be something more to it than that. Surely that means they have no resource through the proper channels. If we take him in, it would avail him nothing. If it were a matter of the government itself seeking to repatriate him, then perhaps we have an answer. But to involve our king and our people not at all states that they are attempting to bypass them. I suspect if they show up, it will simply be to kidnap him rather than to rely on any proper grace. I do not know that we can help, but we can certainly file a complaint through His Majesty, and take that through the proper diplomatic channels.”
Tasha: “Of course, and I understand your concern. I do trust him, and when he says he has done nothing to deserve from this country I believe him.”
DM: It turns out Quirion tripped and broke a precious vase. ‘Oh yeah, that’s SUPER believable, shit.’

Tasha takes stock of her followers before remembering she left most of them in Prole. Thrallherd mockery ensues, as always. Tasha asks the church to watch home while she’s out, to which the high priest agrees.

DM: “I am glad to see you are making more of yourself than you did in the old days.”
Normilan and Brunt: (poorly hidden laughter)
Tasha: “Those days are behind me.”
Brunt: Brought new meaning to the term ‘pack tactics’.

The DM questions Tasha’s motives, then turns to Giles. Giles prepares a letter to send!

Giles: And what do I know about the ‘count of purell’?
Cruroar: (cracking up)
DM: That’s Cruroar.
Tasha: Apparently we don’t know shit.

They fill Giles in, and then the PCs reconvene to discuss their plans for the mission. Cruroar is sloshed, apparently.

Cruroar: “Welcome back.”
Normilan: No one’s actually walked in yet. He’s practicing.
DM: Quirion is there. “Can I have a hit?”
Cruroar: (gives him a hit)
Tasha: “Quirion…”
DM: “I think I – AAAAAH! When did you get here?!”
Tasha: “No worries.”

The group titters at this as Tasha drags Quirion off to talk with him in private.

Tasha: “You’ve been traveling with us for a while and you’ve been very very helpful. We’ve appreciated your company.”
DM: “I’m not liking this beginning…”

Tasha tries to proselytize Quirion, who points out in not so many words that he’s an archivist, though he’s not above an emergency conversion to save his butt.

DM: “I’m sorry if that’s blasphemous, but I kinda figured you were never big on caring about blasphemy at all, Lady Tasha… what with all the blaspheming.”

Cruroar spins the idea of hell as being 2nd Edition D&D without d20s available. Tasha still wonders how to protect Quirion as the latter waxes shockingly bitter.

Tasha: “The people who are coming for you… have led to believe that they’re not necessarily coming with good intentions.”
DM: “Oh that’s a big shock!”
Tasha: “They’re not necessarily going to knock on the door and announce that they’re present.”
DM: “Did not see that one coming, Lady Tasha. Totally caught me off guard.”
Tasha: “Quirion, stop being a dick.”
DM: “You’d be a dick too in my situation! If someone’s like, ‘Oh yeah, we’re from another kingdom and we’re gonna come and get you for some fucking reason!’”
Brunt: Has he ever been sarcastic before?
Cruroar: I think you’re slipping out-of-character there.
Brunt: I’m not saying it’s out of character, I’m saying we never heard it before now!
DM: Cruroar, you can distantly hear Quirion being sarcastic from downstairs. It’s kinda weird, you think the alcohol may be influencing your perception.

They continue to gnaw at this problem a bit while Cruroar drinks. Quirion vows to hide behind Tasha if Brunt gets angry.

DM: He’s worried about Brunt being all, ‘You have to come to justice. I’m taking you in.’
Brunt: I don’t just immediately clap people in irons under my own authority!
DM: Quirion is a little intimidated by Brunt…

Tasha and Quirion hurl Giles under the bus. Cruroar talks to his alcohol and the two of them decide they better go do something.

Cruroar: “Now I’m some Count – oh, Tasha, you’re back. Here, try some of this—“
DM: “No, I’m Quirion. You’re REALLY drinking too much, Cruroar.”

Tasha vows to turn over a new leaf yet again, this time abstaining from alcohol. Cruroar babbles about elf orgasms.

DM: Quirion sinks at his drink, looking a bit awkward as Cruroar mutters weirdass things. Someone else come, please, he begs.
Eilnys: I’ll come home!
DM: Eilnys shows up! Quirion is almost pathetically grateful to see her.

Cruroar rambles on to Eilnys, maudlin in his cups. Normilan appears out of nowhere to hear this. Tasha complains about hammers being thrown at her. Somehow she is pregnant with Cruroar’s baby – what? The entire party is a little melancholy over how their lives have gone, putting them of central importance in such things. Tasha, however, finally reveals to the others that the Empire of Rose wants to take Quirion away.

DM: “I didn’t do a thing!”
Brunt: “Surely, then, that’s why they are coming with such urgency to retrieve you.”
DM: “See, he’s doing it, Tasha! I told you he was gonna do it! He’s grumping at me like I’m a convict, I knew it was gonna happen…”
Brunt: “He claims to have done nothing…”
Tasha: “Sir Brunt, I agree with you in one aspect—“
Normilan: ‘You’re right, let’s clap him in irons!’
Tasha: “If it was a matter of legality, would they not contact the kingdom directly? Why would they contact me?”
Brunt: “Legal or otherwise, surely they have some reason.”
Tasha: “But they have not submitted any type of reason or knowledge or question about it…”

They retread Qurion’s agreement to go if they have proof that they have good cause to take him, while Tasha emphasizes that she won’t let him go without a fight otherwise. The Empire is slated to show up in two weeks, well after they leave.

Brunt: “If it were not for Cruroar, I’d say we could leave tonight. Unless one of us is going to carry him, though, I don’t see that being an option.”
Tasha: “Despite Normilan’s massive, unnatural strength I do not believe he’d be able to make it through the night whole.”
Normilan: Brunt’s stronger…
DM: You’re a mage!

The DM is called a miserable pile for some reason, as Quirion wonders if Brunt has orders to keep an eye on him. Brunt gets super-suspicious of Quirion reading their letters, even as he claims he’d only just seen the pile.

Tasha: As it turns out, Quirion is a prince, and he ran away, and there was a coup d’tat while he was gone.
Normilan: By Lord Toth.

Normilan rolls some Knowledge, and the DM explains that the Empire is a fusion of a human kingdom and an elven kingdom that has lasted for some time, and there are laws which require the emperor to be half-elven. Marriages are carefully made to keep the blood as perfectly half of each as possible. Normilan cheerfully refuses to share this for a while.

Eilnys: Eilnys would flat-out ask Quirion, “Lad, are they thinking of making you a political marriage?”
Normilan: Oof.
Brunt: Ohhhhhhhhh…. And he skipped out! Attaching himself to a priestess perpetually on the road!
DM: “Hey! No! It just – it’s a – I never thought it was a possibility but if there were a… few inconveniences… to people along the line? I guess… I might… technically be in line…? But it’s really unlikely! Really… really unlikely. Because you know, what are the odds?!”
Brunt: (bursting into laughter)
Tasha: Please tell me that’s in character.
Brunt: It is!
Tasha: Yes!

The entire group is laughing at this point, and Brunt goes to bed. Quirion insists there is a simple explanation.

DM: “Right there?” (pointing, and then when people look, ducking behind his DM screen)
Eilnys: D—did—
Tasha: (cracking up)
Normilan: Are you serious?
Tasha: Gone! Quirion is gone!
Normilan: What he did hide behind?
DM: He’s hiding under the table.
Normilan: There’s not even a tablecloth on that thing!
Tasha: “Quirion is obviously not in a position right now to talk about it with us.”
DM: “I, the talking table, agree with Tasha’s statement.”

Normilan asks the group to return to the elven lands sometime soon, if he may need it. Something in his letters seems to be impelling him there. The next morning—Jesus CHRIST the DM banging on the table to simulate knocking sounds like someone is trying to batter their front door down with a ram. I’m pretty sure that was unintentional.

Normilan: ‘We’re here for Quirion?’ ‘Crap.”
Eilnys: “Aye?”
DM: You open the door to find a mysterious cloaked figure, hood up, looking down upon you.
Eilnys: “Aye?”
DM: (fake voice) “May I come in?”
Brunt and Eilnys: “No.”
DM: “Please?”
Eilnys: “No?”
DM: “Pleaaaaaase?”
Eilnys: “State your business.”
DM: The figure casts a couple looks aside, then tugs back the hood far enough to reveal that it is no less than King Aundon himself.
Normilan: Oh.
Eilnys: Yank! Shut the door.
DM: “THANK you. I came to see you all off, and perhaps at least perhaps add what benefits I can. And it seemed wrong of me to ask this of you and then just turn you all to your own devices without at least… reconfirming myself to the plan.”

The King passes them expense money, to the tune of --

Brunt: Doorknobs?!
Tasha: ‘Suckers!’
Normilan: Not MY king!

They exchange some brief pleasantries, except for Cruroar who complains that Aundon is too close to Anduin. They find a total of 600 platinum in the bag, to their delight. Eilnys demands a pony as most of the group behaves sensibly, working on developing a plan. They come up with a surprisingly comprehensive idea: disguising themselves as traders, letting their more martial sorts be wagon guards. Knowledge tells them the Clans desire iron and steel, as they typically favor bronze, and spices. Cruroar attempts to cut a custard cake.

Cruroar: This is dense as fuck! I cannot cut past the midsection of this sonofabitch!
DM: It is custard that has been in our freezer.
Cruroar: We did not take it out in time.
DM: I didn’t think it would be that bad. This is pretty interesting.
Normilan: It’s like a separate cake – holy CRAP. The chocolate layer is SOLID.

The DM, denied the cake, slavers for it all the more. It’s a struggle.

Eilnys: Go upstairs and get the other cake.
DM: I need to stay down and answer questions for planning. Tasha, you’re useless, go get the other cake.
Tasha: You know what SUCKS is that in my head I was like, “I want to go get something to drink.” I was waiting for the DM to go get it so I could be like, “while you’re up there…”

The DM plays a game of Telephone in his head that has the king hearing they’re traitors. Cruroar yells at the cake, while Normilan slowly wins the battle against it through sheer refusal to be less of a man. The group envisions an entire Clan of Cruroar.

Cruroar: Ugh. Another Cruroar to lick my father’s boots.

Custard cake completely silences the game. Normilan asks for a Staff of the Magi; the DM asks who he’s making the request of, and Normilan, who has played under the DM for long enough, wisely doesn’t answer. The PCs elect to sell fake Staffs of the Magi to children, apparently.

DM: So you outlay some of your cash, I assume someone is recording it to make these purchases—
Normilan: (incredulous laughter)

Eilnys goes to clean out Durm’s stock, while Normilan invents Shapeweaver and Sons sexual potency tonic.

Tasha: But if we include coffee in our spices, we can sneak cocaine in because the dogs can’t sniff it.

Silence.

Normilan: Idiot!

They argue over which horses to purchase and end up with ultrahorses. Barding results in a descent into loot boxes. Cruroar and Normilan go spice shopping in the Spice Ward and abruptly encounter a ridiculous over-the-top yelly merchant.

DM: “PEPPER?!?!?!?!” He points a trembling at sacks full of crunchy black granules of pepper.
Normilan: “Let me get two sacks of black pepper… let me get a large mason jar of thyme… turmeric… Sage…”
Brunt: Cinnamon.
Normilan: “Cinnamon. Make that two.”

A shady jar-selling merchant gives them jars, apparently – this scene just keep getting weirder and more ridiculous, and the players grow more and more confused.

Normiln: What race is he?
DM: Half-ogre.
Brunt: Ohhhhhh. Okay, never mind. I missed that part.
DM: It had not been said at that point.
Normilan: I’m gonna say the magic words. ‘So how much is that? Hunnerd gold?’
DM: He stops. His fist trembles, as he struggles to overcome his racial compulsion to charge hunnerd gold for anything and everything. “YOU NEED… SALT!”
Normilan: “Yes, what kind of salt do you have?”
DM: “SEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA.”
Normilan: “I can see it.”
DM: “SALT! FROM THE SEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAA!”
Normilan: “Oh, that’s it. You have that funny colored salt?”
Cruroar: Get that concentrated grey elf tear salt.
DM: ‘TOO! COMMON!’

Normilan is charged one more platinum than he was willing to spend. The merchant takes the whole lot of Normilan’s money, but passes him a particularly spicy sinus-clearing herb as the prize of the lot.

DM: “From DWARF lands. LAVA. Pepper.”
Eilnys: “All right!”
DM: “You. Take. Your. GOODS! This. My. POUCH.”
Normilan: “Enjoy, good sir.” Let me erase that one I just wrote on my character sheet.
DM: “GUAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARD!” He bows his head to Brunt.

The baffled players walk away, as Cruroar discovers his custard cake-slicing efforts had damaged his character sheet. With two cart full of goods and PCs, they consider themselves prepared, and for some reason reflect on their visit to the Gatekeeper. Tasha sets Bimmy and Jimmy to watch Quirion, and the group realizes they’d never got the two horses. The DM is honestly pleasantly surprised at this whole plan.

DM: I thought you guys would sneak over there and disguise yourself as Clansmen. (a slight pause) Not, you know, Ku Klux Klansmen, but clan members. (a slight pause) Not, you know, Ku Klux Klan members… And disguise yourselves as guards or warrior or something as be like, ‘we belong here!’

Tasha attempts to rebuild her character. The DM rules she gets ONE rebuild only, remembering certain other adventures. Giles takes advantage to become a Night Elf Mohawk, and on that note the group at last sets out on their adventure. West they head! The road is poor, so Cruroar angrily spends 10 platinum to summon the ‘asphalt demon’. After a week, they reach a great river.

Cruroar: Oh no. All right, guys, we gotta turn the carriage into a fucking raft.
Normilan: Let’s caulk the wagon and ford this bitch.
Cruroar: Jesus Christ, guys, we lost four oxen. When did we have oxen?!
Brunt: Brunt has drowned.
DM: While the ROAD turns to go alongside it, you guy pay no attention to THAT shit. Immediately stop and stare, and ponder your options.
Normilan: Look, Wisdom of 7. Point A to point B. Shortest route, let’s go!
Cruroar: We follow the road, of course.
Normilan: I’m gonna start complaining. “Guys, we can totally make that.”
DM: You see sharks. Freshwater sharks, following you.
Normilan: Food!
DM: You see the corpses of grey elves, floating by!
Normilan: GOOD food!

They reach a town, with a bridge over the river; Brunt immediately calls it ‘Laketown’, prompting a fit of anger from the DM and consequently inspiring the other players to join on Brunt’s side.

Cruroar: The guy who built the town could’ve been like, ‘I have great plans to make a lake,” and he just never got to it, but he went ahead and CALLED his town Laketown, but he’s never gotten to the lake portion of it.
DM: I’m pretty sure they would have renamed that shit.
Cruroar: He still has plans to make the lake!
DM: WHO IS THIS GUY?!
Eilnys: Stop crushing his dreams!
DM: They deserve to die!
Cruroar: He’s an elf raised by humans so he has human ideals but an elf lifespan. He’s always thinking he’s going to die next year, even though he’s only 200.
Tasha: Hey, um, how far away is this place?
DM: You’re… on the way to it now?
Tasha: Is it, uh… I gotta look up this spell.
DM: I wanna see what Tasha’s looking up. Create Water! We’ll add to the river, we’ll flood out the town, and they’ll be willing to pay exorbitant prices for some spices.

Tasha, who has the Travel domain, decides to get teleport-happy, but is blocked by the lack of fifth-level spells. She ends up decapitating herself through poor use of the Hat of Diguise. As they approach, they hear…jaunty horns, as if some sort of festival is afoot! This prompts them to get on with the ceremony, killing Brunt. Pavilion tents are set up on the far side of the river, apparently a circus! A guard outside town fails to notice them and they startle him nearly to death!

DM: “Oh, welcome! Welcome. This is the town of Szvien.”
Normilan: “Zine.”
DM: “There’s an S, a Z, and a V in there, all at once!”
Cruroar: “What seems to be going on>”
Brunt: What Szviems to be going on,,,, Did you do that on purpose!?
Cruroar: I did now.

The guard rambles on, directing them to the Town Square, which is actually a circle. But he also takes down their names, or tries to – the group hadn’t thought of false names yet! Cruroar makes with the Bluffing, and the guard… rolls a natural 1.

Cruroar: Uh, Uther, uh…
Eilnys: Cruroar! Cruroar is a common name.
Brunt: It IS! Some people have their first AND last name as Cruroar.
Cruroar: “Uther Cruroar of the Cruroar Spice Company.”

Cruroar abruptly gets hicklike and verbally rambling.

Cruroar: “You been out here a long time, long time, probably met a lot of Cruroars coming through here. Every other person, another Cruroar, coming through. They ever cause trouble in your town?”
DM: “There was that one guy, Jeb Cruroar.”
Brunt: And notorious outlaw, Cruroar Biceps-Biceps.
Normilan: Dope Doggy Dogg.
DM: Cruroar Fitzgeraldtron.
Brunt: Motormaster Cruroar!

They make terrible, terrible threats that crack the poor guard up, and as they roll into town they find the town almost deserted, save for one carnival member hawking wares at a booth in the Town Square.

DM: “That’s right! You’ve seen the wyrm, now see its scales, and if you pay the right price, one of them will be yours!” He raps on a thin wire cage that does indeed seem to be full of glistening dragon scales.
Cruroar: What color?
DM: Brass.
Eilnys: Oh god damn it.

The game comes to an end. Not permanently, no matter how much Cruroar cheers that possibility.