Hunnerd gold! The group mocks a member who is not involved in this game, and the players start rolling new characters already.

Cruroar: Oh my god, Con. Please tell me I’m not some kind of weird warrior. (rolling) I’m a weird warrior. 10.
DM: You didn’t focus on leg day, you fool!
Cruroar: I want that low Int. C’mon, loooow Int. (rolling) No.
DM: Wow, 16.

Cruroar’s second character is dubbed Bormilan, and they envision trading their characters around by pure coincidence. And then, on to the game!

DM: Last time we had adjourned with you all in the Great Moot of the Seven Clans Under One Star.
Brunt: Oh god, that’s where we were.
Giles: Oh jeez. I’m being kidnapped by an obviously evil person.
Brunt: Kidnapped?!
Cruroar: He’s with the leader.
Brunt: Yeah, that’s where you want to be!
Cruroar: I’m putting money down that one of two things will happen while he’s with him. One, he’ll have a mage somehow get the information out of him of our plan, or. YOU’RE GONNA SPILL THE BEANS. On your own.
Giles: I’m gonna screw you guys over.
Cruroar: At least get a lot of money for yourself! Make yourself rich, if you’re gonna do that.
Eilnys: Make yourself wed the heir.

The DM focuses on Giles, and everyone is glad it isn’t Iglar who got targeted. Or Krixxix. Giles goes to get pizza, so the DM turns to the rest of the group. Tasha and Cruroar had wandered off after Shinosair, the Old Man.

Brunt: Is he putting whipped cream on the pizza?!
Cruroar: That’s exactly what I was thinking!

Already, Shinosair and some random guy begin dueling, with a circle forming around them. They attempt to bet on Shinosair, but the odds are so in his favor that they would be wasting their time. Cruroar looks for old dudes he can interrogate about fighting skills and whether or not he can fly, and ends up chatting up a druid.

DM: He looks at you and guffaws, then claps your shoulder. “Ah, wish to watch from the air as we do, I see! The wings of a bird are ill-suited to the sights of combat, my friend!”
Cruroar: “…not so much wings, I have a source of flight from another means. But it should allow me to hover above pretty easily but I didn’t want to cause a commotion by doing so.”
DM: “Ah, you have an enchanted item!”
Cruroar: “Yes. We’ll go with that. Yes. Enchanted. Item. My cloak here can make me fly.”
DM: “Well, we have a special place for THAT, visitor! Come, right this way!”
Normilan: ‘To the gibbets with you!’
Tasha: Six feet underground!
Eilnys: No, they’re gonna try to steal that cloak.
Cruroar: Good thing my cloak isn’t THAT fancy. Lead the way.
DM: Clapping you on the shoulder, his grip tightens subtly as he begins to steer you off.
Cruroar: Oh yep, I’m going to go die. What direction are we going? If I’m going off to a tent in the dark with no people, I’m gonna stop for a moment!
DM: Not a tent, anyway.
Cruroar: Oh god.

The DM challenges him to roll Sense Motive, and Tasha takes some of that action. Cruroar is suspicious. (Tasha is not.)

Cruroar: “I might as well stay around here.”
DM: “Oh no really, my friend, I insist! We only give the best treatment to a fine merchant such as yourself, in from our ancestral enemy who we’re going to war on.”
Tasha: “Sounds legit to me!”
Cruroar: I lift myself up slowly and unclasp my cheapass cloak.
DM: At your expression and slow motions, he cracks up, dropping one hand to his knee. “Oh, the look on your face is priceless, friend, priceless! I assure you, we wouldn’t bludgeon a merchant unless he was foolish enough to fall for it, but it seems you’re wise to the ways of my people. You needn’t worry, the Great Star has proclaimed amnesty for you merchants or whatever, I don’t remember what he said, but it means you’re free to come and go as you please. We won’t wage war on you – ha, that’s the only reason we haven’t slain you and taken your goods right now!”

Advised not to stand out, Cruroar gives a cover story of looking for bodyguards and suddenly has a skin of wine shoved into his hand.

Tasha: Can I go register to join the fights?
DM: Absolutely! As someone who has no reason to be fighting, I welcome you joining this fight.
Tasha: I always wish to test my mettle against those of valor.
DM: I meant out of character.
Cruroar: I wasn’t watching her…

Cruroar drinks the wine and tries to die from it, though he’s okay – but the DM suggests from the taste it’s a blood-wine. This leads to a long discussion about Magneto escaping jail (eventually). Tasha is surprisingly married to this enter-the-combat plan, as the DM queries her about her disguise, wondering how she intends not to blow the idea that she’s just a merchant. Cruroar looks around for invisible or weird things, but finds none.

DM: The guy you were talking to directs you to the lists, over to the side. Not far from those taking the bets are a trio of somber-looking and rather sober-looking fellows, who are overseeing this. A system of complex markings hang in the air before them. The language is not one they recognize.
Tasha: I can comprehend any language!
DM: Does that apply to written languages as well?
Tasha: It is Tongues. All it says is ‘comprehend any language’.
Normilan: What does the spell say?
Tasha: The spell is ‘Tongues.’

The DM points out it’s a tournament bracket no matter what. Normilan reminds Cruroar they’re playing 3.5 as Tasha gets interrogated by one very hairy dude.

DM: “Late entry. I despise late entries. Nevertheless…”
Tasha: “Well, my sincerest apologies, I did just arrive here earlier this evening.”
DM: “By the virtue of the Great Star you will be allowed to participate.”
Brunt: Is she gonna get a bye because the bracket is full?
Cruroar: I don’t know whether or not it allows you to read written, but I do know that you will know whether or not Steamed Hams is a regional dialect.

The DM checks on some other people. Eilnys is hanging out by the wagon and keeping an eye on Bimmy and Jimmy, while showing off wares without selling them. Shrugging, the DM goes back to Tasha.

DM: “What name do you enter under?” Basha.
Tasha: “Nora. Nora Sunburster.”
DM: “And what level of competition do you seek?”
Tasha: “Just basically main combat.”
DM: “The weakest tier?”
Tasha: “Explain the tiers to me, I am unfamiliar.”
DM: “Our neophyte fighters, those who have not seen battle, those who have newly come to their adulthood, fight in the weak tier. There they may hone their skills, practice and learn. Those who are skilled warriors practice in the medium tier. There their challenges are suited to them. The greatest of warriors and those who seek to challenge them stand in the highest tier. It is a dangerous place! I do not believe one of your hope could hope to aspire to the greatness of our people, and we shall not be accountable for your death should you go there.”

Tasha asks if magic is okay and what the rules are; the Clansman laughs at the idea that there is no killing, and they debate if not killing is true strength. The Clansman is laughing his butt off.

DM: “I think a mere stick would snap you! Standing before the blade of one of our warriors is one of the most dangerous things you could ever accomplish! But if you wish to throw your life away or hope the mercy of your opponent is great, by all means! CHOOSE UNWISELY!”
Tasha: “A fool is a fool that is born every day. Put me in the top brackets.”
Brunt: Why throw away your life so recklessly?
Cruroar: What the fuck is going on?
Eilnys: He wants to bring back Marros, that’s what’s going on.
Normilan: Apparently. Watch what happens when he doesn’t get allowed back in the group.
DM: Maniacally cackling, he gestures to the great tournament bracket, and manages to – GOD DAMN IT! (railing at Cruroar for playing music, then collapsing into madness)
Normilan: I feel terrible and elated at the same time.

Abandoning hope, the DM flatly tells Tasha she’s been added to the board. She bitterly predicts the weakest warrior is level 20.

Tasha: Knowing the DM, he’s gonna be like, ‘You swing, you do max damage! He has a small cut appear on his left arm. He reaches out and crushes you.’
DM: All your damage is warded away.

Normilan wanders over to the mages, with others still predicting he will Fireball them all. He attempts to skulk and listen around the edges, gets noticed, and tries to mooooosey away, but gets addressed. They try to get him to contribute to the discussion; Normilan flatly refuses and takes off, preserving his disguise in the process. Tasha tries to lure in Brunt to the arena.

Brunt: My disguise was intended to be a human, but since being a half-orc didn’t get me murdered I’m content to be a half-orc in a smock.
Tasha: If you come into the melee ring with me and you beat them all down, they’ll be all, ‘wow, maybe the west doesn’t have some—‘
Brunt: ‘Maybe these people aren’t who they say they are,’ that’s what’s more likely to happen.
DM: ‘We were beaten by a lowly laborer! We cannot make war against their kind!’

Brunt gets some food, and eavesdrops on a debate over an old battle which is all about tactics – specifically using horsemen against an entrenched throw, so Brunt actually hears much that would be of interest in a battle. Cruroar goes for his dice.

Cruroar: That’s a bad strength! That is a bad – that is a 4 in Strength!
DM: Why are YOU rolling a new character? Is the overflow damage gonna be so great it’s gonna splash over?!
Cruroar: I just like the rolling method for this.
DM: I like the idea that all of you are going to take damage because Tasha takes so much damage…

Brunt discovers that Clan Niron has access to clerical magic, with all that implies. The DM challenges Tasha to roll percentile dice to determine the strength of the foe she faces in the first round; she rolls a 07. The DM keeps trying to switch the scene to Giles, and Giles keeps not being there.

DM: Your round comes up quickly, Tasha. You are ushered into the circle of fighters. Stepping out of the crowd, practically wading out of the crowd, is the massive figure of half-giant.
Brunt: Wh—which tier did you opt for?!
Cruroar: She went for the highest one. THE HIGHEST. ONE.
Brunt: Why would I ask that question?
Normilan: ‘I’m just trying to have some fun!’ Yeah, getting yourself killed.
Cruroar: It’s why she kept asking, ‘is it to the death?’ Hell yeah it’s to the death!
Brunt: The half-giant will take pity, be all ‘it’s beneath me to squash a bug’.
DM: From what you’ve overheard, there is a brief moment before the battle where those who have powers may utilize them. After which battle is joined.

The players are impressed by a pre-battle buff action, and Cruroar starts pondering a new bodyguard. They anticipate Tasha giving this guy the Goro treatment at a nearby convenient cliff. Tasha casts Shield of Faith, angering the Clansmen who worship other gods, while the half-giant Enlarges. Initiative ensues, and Tasha uses her greater initiative to cast Enlarge Person on herself.

DM: So what is your new Enlarged AC?
Tasha: 21 is my AC.
DM: He steps forward and from behind his back draws forth a pair of massive swords. He quickly brings them down in a brutal cut. Swiflty deciding which one to fend off, you block the leftmost one, but the right one strikes true.
Brunt: Does he have a feat for using those?
DM: He’s a ranger. You take 17 points of damage from his blow, then he leans back and stabs at you poorly. His miss infuriates him; you can almost see his fighting style slip from serenity to a more berserker rage. It is your turn to act.
Cruroar: I want you to come over. ‘What’s going on?’ ‘Our buddy went into the arena and is fighting. It’s okay, he’s probably going to die.’
Tasha: If I use the Bag of Boulders, does that count as one attack or is it my whole action?
DM: (fed up) I don’t know, it’s your magic item, why are you asking me?
Cruroar: What are you talking about?
Tasha: I have them in my hand to keep the Ice Axe from coming out, so I wonder if I use the Bag of Boulders…
DM: You’ve been talking about those boulders for SO long, I can’t believe you don’t know yet.

Tasha deploys her Ice Axe, rolls terribly, but the attack is a touch attack so missing is virtually impossible. VIRTUALLY – Tasha promptly rolls a natural 1 and hits her head on the pommel of the enemy’s sword, but puts off the stun with a save.

DM: Excellent. He took that, and is still coming back for m—

The DM rolls dice, then falls utterly silent.

Brunt: You’ve been crit.
Tasha: Probably.
DM: Um. (rolling another die) Yup. Wow. Look at that. (calling the players behind the screen) Three dice plus the crit roll.
Normilan: Huh.
Cruroar: Oh God.
Tasha: Can I get a blank character sheet please?
Normilan: He rolled a 20, 19, 18, 18.
Tasha: HA HA! Jesus! Goodbye, Tasha, nobody liked you anyways, except for me.
DM: All right… You take 67 points of damage.
Tasha: I’m down.
DM: How down?
Tasha: Well, I was at 55. Now I’m at -12.
Brunt: Yeah, you’re actually dead.
Tasha: I am actually deceased in combat. (laughing)
Giles: Wooooow, you got one-shot.
DM: I don’t know what to tell you! I tried to give you every warning there was in the book, man!
Tasha: I know! I know, and I wanted to go in there and I wanted to have fun, but I did not expect to go out that fast.
DM: I would like you to know that with what you rolled that was the weakest possible opponent you could face in that combat.
Tasha: That’s fine, I asked for it…
DM: I don’t know what to tell you…
Tasha: I didn’t expect to go down that fast, I was hoping I could at least get through the first round.
Brunt: They have been boasting that the weakest of their warriors..

Tasha resolutely goes to make a new character. The group is all a little stunned by this.

Normilan: Who gets Quirion?
Eilnys: I WANT HIM!
Tasha: I hope Quirion goes berserk and brings the entire elven army over to destroy everything.
DM: Because Quirion definitely has the elven army on tap.
Normilan: But what if he did?
Brunt: If all he had to do was be, ‘okay, I’ll marry her’, and then we’ve got the elven armies marching to war. Saruman style. TO WAAAR! And the bloodthirsty elves show up!
Tasha: This is the first time this happened at this table! Where somebody did their own stupidity…
Brunt: Uhm, Kurain.
DM: Hey!
Brunt: He was killed through no fault of his own!
DM: He was killed from Mr. I-Don’t-Know-The-Rules over there pouncing him on the charge!
Brunt: Like I said, through no fault of his own. I had a character killed that way, who shall remain nameless…
Tasha: (as Cruroar comes back downstairs) Hey Cruroar, can you print me a 3.5 character sheet real quick?
Cruroar: What?!
Normilan: Yeah, he died.
Tasha: I got critted—
Cruroar: I heard 77 damage.
DM: 67.
Normilan: He got one-shot.

Cruroar laughs, then realizes that in-character he’s on the hook for roleplaying, having been there watching. The DM describes Tasha getting bisected with less than his usual flavor text (although still some). The disguise also fails, though Tasha insists it brings no changes to herself. The crowd laughs and mocks Tasha in death, as Cruroar desperately tries to roll Performance(shock) and scrambles to round up the team. He feebly drags Tasha’s body off the field.

Cruroar: I’m dragging him back, like, ‘Jesus Christ – yeah, you know, employees! Getting themselves killed, you know how it is. Oh god.’
Tasha: I’m glad that you are not upset at all, he’s like, ‘oh thank God she’s dead.’
Cruroar: There’s TOO MUCH SHIT going on for Cruroar to really sandwich the idea that you are actually dead! Because 1, he’s got to plan out the evacuation of this princess—
Tasha: No Dimension Door!
Cruroar: He’s surrounded by the enemy – you were part of the plan! “Guys! GUYS!”

The characters begin catching up with the action, all of them putting on some level of Holy Shit Face. The group demands Quirion arbitrarily disappear. The DM does reclaim his sheet, even as Cruroar hurriedly promises Quirion asylum and whatnot.

Brunt: We’ve just turned this campaign into the Game of Thrones episode. Anyone…

Quirion is a sad wreck. Tasha insists she isn’t upset with the DM, who had warned her, as the DM reminds them that Tasha had fought in the tier that clan leaders entered. Normilan asks where they can bury Tasha, and gets told she’ll be cremated at dawn.

Normilan: All right, now let’s strip the bitch.
Brunt: ‘He is Cruroar! Prolian! He won’t cry. So I cry for him.’
DM: ‘My name is Cruroar of Prole. You killed my cleric. Prepare to die. My name is Cruroar of Prole. You killed my cleric. Prepare to die.’

They strip the bitch. Normilan cheers, specifying it’s out of character. They hurriedly stop Tasha from making a samurai, and then the DM reminds Tasha of the rolling rules. Cruroar actually keeps roleplaying this, begging Quirion to prepare the body.

DM: ‘I’m sorry, my spells are really messed up in my head right now. It’s almost like Lady Tasha didn’t know how to run me.’
Tasha: God…
DM: You’ve got his complete spell list written down here and nothing marked for preparations or anything! This explains so much!
Cruroar: “Do what you can. Then once you’ve done that, take the day. We’re gonna slow this down a lot. We’ve got a lot to do. The last thing you need to worry about is the plan ahead.”
DM: “We’re going to get that plan done.”
Cruroar: “We will. Focus on this. Then focus on yourself for a bit.”

The game finally jumps to Giles, who is being taken off by the Great Star. Cruroar applauds Tasha for losing the most characters of the group. The DM calls for a Spot check from Giles.

Giles: 24.
DM: You spot what’s coming in time to not be surprised, as a massive bird that you would swear to be metallic lands abruptly next to you. This bird is the size of a man, and longer still. It glares at you balefully over a metallic, predatory beak, then turns to face the Great Star. “You should not traffic with this one, my lord. There is much ill about him.” The Great Star simply motions with a hand. “I have given amnesty and freedom of our camp to all merchants, I will not go back on my word, though your faithfulness is noted, Star.” As he says this, the bird simply glares at you again—
Normilan: (to Tasha) Did you roll a 3?
Tasha: I rolled a 6!
Giles: “Hello there!”
DM: The bird gives a very humanlike grunt and takes off again. Shrugging, the Great Star heads off for the tent again. “Don’t mind Star. She’s suspicious of everyone.”
Giles: “I was about to ask who she was.”
DM: “She is the leader of Senopas. Very difficult one to bring to my sway I’m afraid. But she came to see the light.”
Giles: “Interesting.”

The Great Star leads Giles into the huge pavilion tent, which is like a building inside. The walls are tapestries and rugs which hang to section off the tent, and the effect is all very nice. Wealth and luxury is on display, in the form of hangings and hides and so forth. Giles and the Star discuss painting for a bit, with the Great Star encouraging Giles to come hear some songs later, and they head into another part of the tent.

DM: You step in after him just in time to see a young woman scramble to her feet, from what seemed to be a meditative posture. He waves at her. “Don’t mind me, I’m just showing our guests some of the treasures.” “Do you HAVE to show them in my room?” “Well some of the treasures are IN here, darling, where else would I be able to show him the treasures that are in here?” The young woman glares at him, and then glares at you by proxy, even as the Great Star begins pointing out some of the various scrolls and artistries that are on the wall.
Giles: I’ll pay attention to the artistries.
DM: He takes a while to describe one of the scenes, saying it’s one of the first battles he ever partook in, in his youth – describing how his clan managed to overcome the enemy clan, in this case Girel, through superior intelligence. The scroll itself depicts only a group of half-giants being fallen on from the side, as if by surprise, but he takes his time in weaving the story.
Giles: “I don’t want to be rude, um, but, um, who is the, um, woman, that um, we are in the room of?”
DM: “That IS rude,” the girl says, as her eyes snap open. “You could ask me directly.”
Giles: “I’m sorry. And what is your name.”
DM: She rises to her feet, still glaring at you. “I am Ka Shem. One day your kingdom will bow to me instead of my father. Remember well my face and my words. If you don’t die when we conquer you.”
Tasha: Crap, she’s not a 2-year-old girl.
Giles: “Interesting greeting…”
DM: A muscle works in her jaw, as she tried to decide whether she should more openly take affront at your response. The Great Star merely waves a hand at her again. “Now now, you know I’ve given the merchants amnesty.” “A merchant with the tongue of a blackguard. May I return to my meditations, since you won’t allow me to participate in the rest of the night?” “When she gets that tone of voice, there’s no reasoning with her. Come, I won’t expose you to her any further.”

The Great Star escorts Giles out, bemoaning that his heir is in constant danger and he doesn’t wish her to die before taking her position. Giles struggles to be diplomatic. They bemoan Giles failure to convince the Great Star and his heir to chloroform themselves so he could kidnap the latter.

Giles: Have I seen any Great Star (muddled)?
DM: What?!
Giles: I’m asking out of character, have I seen any bows that Great Stars use?
DM: Oh, bows! I thought you said battles!

Giles rolls poorly on his bow, confusing the poor Great Star, who just shrugs it off and gives Giles the Royal Wavealong. Tasha proposes rolling an elf ranger, but what type?

Cruroar: Yeah, be a grey elf!
Brunt: Grey is not the best choice at the moment…
Normilan: Yeah, don’t go with grey right now.
DM: Yeah, your favored enemy is Normilan.

The DM goes looking for the Expanded Psionics Handbook; to his horror it is upstairs in his room. Giles makes it back to the wagon, promptly spying two halves of a body.

Giles: “Is that – Tasha?!”
Cruroar: “Yep.”
Giles: “Explain.”
Tasha: She’s an idiot.
Cruroar: “Long story short, she got herself into a fight she couldn’t win, got herself cut in half, and now we’re here.”
Brunt: I don’t think the story would have been that long, actually.


Giles calls Tasha’s death a loss, leading Tasha’s ghost to appear and thank him for being the only one. Quirion worries about Brunt, as Brunt cynically says no one else in existence is intimidated by him (and yet is glad Quirion doesn’t want to hang out).

Giles: “I think I have an idea of where the hair might be.”
Tasha: The hair?
Brunt: “Which hair?”
Eilnys: The heir.
Giles: ‘See this nice brown here?’ HERE is I think the appropriate pronunciation…

The argument over pronunciation subsumes the group. Giles and Eilnys both quit the game. With the girl being of age and probably capable a warrior, the group realizes they’re in for some sort of fight. Tasha attempts to make a Thrallherd. Desperately rejiggering their plans, they move to gather information while the party rocks on around them. They ponder fooling the Clans into thinking the impetuous heir ran off.

Tasha: Normilan, just so you know, I decided to go with an elf wizard named Stormilan.
Normilan: …notice how I’m not laughing?

In the midst of their planning, the Great Star himself approaches the group, though he doesn’t spring up on them without warning…

DM: Normilan is not caught hastily rifling through his spellbook, for example.
Cruroar: I prepare myself and I properly greet him.
DM: “Merchants, if you’ll forgive my imprudence, I ask you to move your wagon. Once the fighting and the feasting is ended, the songs and the dancing will begin. Your contrivances might be in the way.”
Cruroar: “Oh, no problem, we will hastily move them.”
DM: “The most safe place, if you will directly move them behind the great pavilion tent, that will keep it out of the way.”
Normilan: ‘Back it on up to my daughter’s area!’
Cruroar: “Handler, move the wagon!”
Brunt: (dumb voice) “Okay…”

They chat a bit, and then the Great Star moves off. The group is fairly baffled.

Eilnys: Is he just TRYING to get us in trouble?!
Brunt: I dunno! Maybe he was offering a chance to kill him!

The DM attempts to provoke them into leaving the wagon around inappropriately; they refuse, apparently. The players spin visions of the Church of the Pack throwing a massive celebration now that Tasha is dead; Cruroar in particular is fond of the idea that the head of the church manages to predict down to the round how the battle went. The DM offers his own vision.

DM: No, this is Tasha. ‘No, let me guess, attempted to run a train on the entire Seven Clans Under One Star, perished of dehydration.’
Cruroar: Wow. Just wow.
DM: Tasha was legitimately sent to jail for having too many orgies at one point.
Tasha: She cleaned her ways up and joined the church as redemption.
DM: That’s – no. No, it wasn’t as redemption, she was part of the church then! You keep trying to forswear your church, too!
Brunt: You’re like the Joker, your origin changes every time you tell the story.
Tasha: You make it out like I was horrible fricking cleric!
DM: YOU REALLY WERE! You called your god mad at one point! You tried to FOUND YOUR OWN RELIGION at one point! You were a terrible cleric!
Cruroar: The more I hear about Tasha, the more Aiden was like an amazing cleric.
DM: YOU WERE HERE FOR ALL OF THIS, CRUROAR!
Cruroar: I apparently missed it!
Eilnys: How?!
Cruroar: Cruroar’s got a lot on his mind right now. He keeps jumping up the social ladder in leaps and bounds! Listen, I’m thinking the idea of just becoming traders and letting our homeland fall is the easiest way…

The group starts tossing out Gather Information checks as they work the moot for knowledge, and discover that the Moot will end at dawn and the procession will begin soon afterward. The DM describes the Seven Clans as using blitzkrieg tactics.

Normilan: Fucking Nazis.
DM: Really, they’re more like the Mongols.
Normilan: I SAID, ‘fucking. Nazis.’
DM: REALLY, they’re more like the Hsiang-Yu, which were China’s ancient enemies that they built the wall to keep out.
Brunt: Those… dino-monster things?
DM: Yes. The dino-monster things. That’s exactly what I patterned these people on. I gathered a whole bunch of information on a traditional foe of civilized enemies, their culture, and everything on that, and I said, ‘fuck it! Dino-monsters!’ That’s exactly how I’m running this fucking game. God damn it
Tasha: (pointing at the bingo board) Is ‘DM being angry’ on there somewhere?
DM: I’m being accused of being a hack. Dino-monsters.
Brunt: Matt Damon can tell us everything we need to know about defending the kingdom.
DM: (heaving a long sigh) You just sucked the life right out of me, Brunt, goddamn.
Brunt: You thought that was like an honest question?
DM: Honest fucking question…
Eilnys: Dino-monsters!
Cruroar: Wait a minute. Who’s our rogue?
DM: Let me know when you need me again, you’re not just making up my campaign, Power Rangers erupting out of the ground…
Brunt: Bronto-thunder!
DM: Brunto-thunder.
Brunt: Ankylo!
DM: Ankylo Ren.
Cruroar: They don’t like people from the East. We’re people from the East, right?
Eilnys: Right.
Cruroar: So the chances of us trying to get into somehow marrying the princess is out, that’s not going to happen.
Normilan: Allow me to play you the song of the people. ‘Chain mail, dunga dunga…’

Cruroar plans to abandon the wagons to flee fast. The DM rules that Lars appears to advise them to hobble the NPCs as distractions.

Cruroar: Are you good with explosions?
Normilan: Nope.
Cruroar: We need to figure out—
Normilan: Wait, why are we trying to blow something up?! Isn’t that Tasha’s plan?
Tasha: Tasha’s ghost is whispering into his ear. ‘Blow up the wagons.’
Cruroar: At some point after we leave, it would be cool if the wagons blew up.

Tasha envisions her new character fighting in the Moot for some reason. The DM preemptively rules that wood elf will know nothing of grain explosions.

Normilan: What’s your Intelligence?
Tasha: -2. Oh, I’m sorry, my Intelligence is 0, my Wisdom is -2.

This describes a Tasha character perfectly, but they nonetheless clarify that they mean they actual stats, not the modifiers.

DM: Your Wisdom is Normilan-level.
Normilan: Yay, we both make bad decisions together!
Tasha: We’re gonna get along just fine!
DM: How many devil’s threesomes will you guys have?

The dancing begins! Cruroar starts counting guards around the main tent (2 at the front), and pumps Giles for intel on the inside of the pavilion tent. They shut the laptop off on Giles. Curoar contemplates the use of a charm spell on the heir.

Giles: I say we nuke this place from orbit, it’s the only way to be sure.
Cruroar: I like – I like your gumption, I like your gumption, the only problem is getting our nuke into orbit.
Tasha: I like how Giles has taken over my role of just destroy everybody.
Brunt: If mass-murder was the answer, we wouldn’t have needed to infiltrate the camp.
Cruroar: Having Giles sneak in and attempt to woo her probably wouldn’t work…
DM: Luckily, you guys have moved your wagons behind the tent so you can discuss this without being overheard.
Cruroar: I’M doing it right in the middle of the dance floor. ‘WE HAVE TO STEAL! THE HEIR! FOR THE EAST!’
Normilan: ‘Man, when he gets a little drink in him, woo! He talks crazy talk.’
DM: ‘They’re trying to steal our air! Quick, everybody breathe in!’
Tasha: ‘He didn’t say ‘air’, he said ‘hair’!’
DM: ‘You tried to take my false hair, but now you are the one who’s going toupee!’

Dead silence. Cruroar works on establishing that only two guards are at the front of the tent, and the Great Star is quite visible so they can’t impersonate him and make the Roll of the Century™. They question how many merchants are present; it works out to 0, since none of them are actually merchants.

DM: Quirion regards the side of the tent thoughtfully.
Cruroar: “Whatcha got there?”
DM: (making slitting motions)
Eilnys: Go underneath?
Brunt: Slit the tent.
DM: “Why go around the front?”
Cruroar: That was my other plan, to slip in the back, but it’s moreso not making a commotion for the guards to come out.
DM: “I have a silence spell prepared…”

Cruroar has a plan: go in under silence, knock out the heir, run. The Great Grand Ultimate Star will never see it coming, right?

Giles: You know, I’m wondering about something. Why did he have us park our wagon here?
Einlys: He claimed it was out of the way.
Cruroar: Wait, are we right behind his tent?
Normilan: Yeah. It does seem kind of weird…
DM: I don’t believe you missed that. Quirion is staring at the wall which is about two feet from him.
Cruroar: I literally – I thought it was a grand bazaar and this was a totally different tent! It makes my speech even more ridiculous, as the whole time she’s behind me!
Brunt: “This is perhaps a test. Perhaps they’ve already discovered the reason we are here.”
Cruroar: “Why just hand it to us? Does he not want this?”
Brunt: “We’re surrounded by them. If he knows what we’re going to do we have no chance of success. Either that, or it could be just the Great Star himself wants her out of the picture. Perhaps he fears for her safety.”
Giles: “There’s two possibilities. Either he wants us to do this, or it’s a trap.”

The group becomes increasingly weirded out by this possibility, but begin to come to the consensus that the Great Star wants the heir out of danger. Realizing this, they go with Plan Silence Spell, hurriedly slitting the tent open and stepping in on the meditating heir. Normilan abruptly realizes the Silence will stop him from casting a Charm Person spell, to his shock.

Brunt: Can you do a nonlethal dungeon crash? Apparently not.

They send Giles up to subdual-sneak-attack her. Anticipating failure, the group surrounds her and all attack simultaneously, knocking each other out and granting her four level-ups. The DM threatens to apply overflow damage, Shadowrun-style; the group vetoes this. Normilan commits soduku (sic) for some reason. Giles finally manages to knock her out by virtue of her failing a Fortitude save.

Normilan: Pick her up, let’s wrap her up in something.
Tasha: Oh, carpet. Just like rolling a joint, dude.
DM: You vigorously lick the sixteen-year-old girl.
Tasha: Doesn’t sound so bad to me!

UNBELIEVABLY redacted comments are made. When they kick Bimmy and Jimmy out to run alongside the horses, this is a mercy and a relief. Tasha’s ghost appears to recommend they split up, as the group argues whether or not they take a wagon or four horses for all of them.

Brunt: I think we’ve been bamboozled. Or hornswaggled. That Great Star sounded way too cultured.
Normilan: Based on what Giles said…
Cruroar: He’s super-protective of his daughter, he didn’t want her to leave anyway.
Brunt: So maybe peace is what he wants, and this is the only way he can reasonably pitch it to the Clans. He’s letting us go, it’s the only explanation for the ease of our escape.

Cruroar bemoans their haste as they ride frantically away. He prays for their only salvation.

Cruroar: Come on, bronze dragon, suddenly grow up into an adult dragon in only one scene!

The sun rises after several hours, and the weary heroes look back along their path to see no signs of pursuit. MORE horrible jokes are hurriedly deleted, though they will live on as scars in the transcriber’s mind.

Normilan: Is that redactworthy?
DM: Yes.
Brun: We are being circled by the redactyl as we speak.
DM: The first warning you have of encroaching trouble is a groan from the girl you have taken, as her hand rises up to her head as she lies in the midst of you in the wagon.
Cruroar: Isn’t she tied up?
DM: Is she…?
Cruroar: We bound her before we left.
DM: Well then you get the groan, but no movement of her hand.
Eilnys: Time to cast that Charm Person spell, Normalawn!
Normilan: There’s no Normalawn here.
Brunt: Normalawn, cast a spell upon the hair please.
DM: Her eyes snap open.
Tasha: ‘It’s me, Tasha! I took over her body!’
Normilan: Oh god! Kill it!
DM: It turns out Tasha was the real heir all along, and this is a Padme situation.

Normilan lands his Charm quite effectively, despite the DM’s rolling. He angrily rolls seventeen more dice.

DM: There, she passed!
Cruroar: If you open that gate…

Even charmed, she haughtily demands to know why she is tied up and moves to struggle against the bonds. Normilan slams straight into a mental block. Cruroar comes to the rescue by advising him to ask about her name. She identifies herself as Ka Shem, demanding her release quite fruitlessly and failing to get them to take a challenge to honorable combat. The DM calls for Spot checks! Eilnys rolls a natural 20.

DM: Eilnys, you spot steamed hams!
Cruroar: Oh my god!
Tasha: Lunch is served!
DM: Eilnys, you note she is trying to work her hand down to her boot.
Eilnys: “Whatcha got there, lass?”
DM: She tries to jerk away as you reach.
Eilnys: I’m going to reach for whatever it is.
DM: You can clearly tell there is a knife tucked away in there.
Eilnys: “Aww, is that a dagger I see before me?”
DM: You pull it out, and strangely enough, a scrap of skin comes with it.
Eilnys: “Oh lass, I didn’t mean to do that!”
DM: Not her skin! Like – tanned – hide – skin. Looks to be attached with some sort of string or sinew.
Eilnys: “If this is a trophy of yours, I’m not taking it far.”
DM: She’s looking at it in befuddlement as well.
Cruroar: I circle around to face her head-on.
Brunt: Befuddlement?
Normilan: “You seem to be puzzled by this. Why?”
DM: “What the heck is that?”

They check the skin. It exploded, wounding Normilan. It is a prophecy!

DM: ‘Alone slightly fewer than before will stand…’
Cruroar: I love the idea of like, over in one of the camps is the ol’, ‘I can’t wait till those warriors of prophecy finally get here so I can tell them EXACTLY what the prophecy means. There’ll be no more questions about the written prophecy! I can’t wait!’
DM: ‘Huh, they never visited. As a priest of prophecy, I really should have seen this coming. Welp, I’m a fraud.’ (mimes slaying himself)
Normilan: I would’ve gone with a noose.
DM: They don’t have trees over in Seven Clans land, it’s all plains! In a narrow, spiky script, it says, ‘Take care of my daughter.’
Giles: Yep! I called it. I called it.

They marvel at the fact that Brunt and Giles were right, and Cruroar slams down hard on Ka, telling her no one in the Clans cares if she lives and her only hope now is to come with them. She needs to come back with them!

Cruroar: “Join us to the east, where you’ll be pampered and held in a room for a bit—“
Normilan: “Don’t make promises we don’t know that we kept!”
Cruroar: “More than likely, if she’s not kept that way, I’ll make sure she’s kept that way.”
DM: King Aundon looks down at her. ‘Excellent. Now we start sending parts back until the Great Star agrees to peace.’
Brunt: Parts nothing. He’ll probably marry her.

Cruroar rolls no less than 30 on Diplomacy. Ka Shem has to consider this, and the DM describes the emotions coming across her face as she comes to term with what Cruroar has told her.

DM: With the most bitter look you could possibly imagine, unless you’ve played across Brunt for as long as I have—
Cruroar: That’s so fucked up!
DM: (pointing at Brunt’s expression) SEE?! SEE?!
Normilan: Yeah, but you brought that one on yourself.
DM: That was my birthday present to myself. That and all my farting.

The game fondly remembers Brunt’s old character getting Charmed into assassinating Barack.

Brunt: It was literally the first thing that happened to me when I joined the group. Don’t understand how that set him down the path of bitterness…

Somehow Normilan becomes a pickup artist. Somehow he gets hooked up to dialysis machines. Somehow he hooks up with the DM. What the fuck, Hitler and Dead Baby Gaming Society? Acknowledging that Tasha will be replaced next session, they end the game here!