The game begins. It’s Dark Souls. They died.

DM: Last time you had kidnapped the heir to the Seven Clans Under One Star, thanks to the use of judicious magic and brutal blows to the back of the head.
Brunt: And persuasion.
DM: That came after the kidnapping.
Brunt: The state-sponsored kidnapping, I’ll have you add for the record.
DM: Hey, I’m not saying it was wrong, I’m saying that’s what it was.
Cruroar: Your tone of voice said otherwise.
DM: And you had fled at top speed, or at least the top speed the wagons could reach, out of the Seven Clans Under One Star’s lands. Having swayed the girl, with Cruroar’s clever words delivered in Cruroar’s player’s angry monologue—
Brunt: (cracking up) Cruroar will be a hateful king when he finally ascends the throne.

The group debates if they buried Tasha; the answer is no, they had no opportunity. She was burned on a pyre, at least?

DM: You caught a few miserable hours of sleep that did little to refresh you and even less to recover—
Normilan: I slept as well as a pile of secrets!
DM: And…. (utterly losing his momentum) Thanks, Normilan. You’re tired. You’re tired and overwhelmed with what’s happened.

The group contemplates that they might need to jettison some weight, or they’ll never make it back to Urm-Vessing. This goes exactly where you’d expect. The DM asks their path and whether they are traveling straight or doing a more circumspect route.

Normilan: How much longer would it be?
DM: Hard to say. You’re not familiar with the terrain in that direction. What paths will you meet? What rivers will block your path?
Normilan: Ah, Jesus Christ…
Cruroar: I say we take the long route. There’s a chance they might have patrols.
Giles: While I think the leader of the Seven Stars approved this, there’s a chance the other clans might not have.
Normilan: A 25 on my Knowledge(geography).
DM: Excellent, you’re aware that geography exists.
Normilan: I’ll smack you with something.

The DM goes on a bit about rivers – south is more troublesome, north has more rivers. The group contemplates if they need to go straight through the town where the circus was, and if they’re gone.

Brunt: I don’t think our dragon companion is going to like the idea.
Normilan: No, probably not.
DM: I’m glad you guys remember Glimmer exists. I hope you liked him.
Normilan: I do. Is he still around? He flew off, last I heard.
Brunt: He’s staying sort of close to us.
Normilan: I’m sure he’s keeping an eye on us.
DM: I assure absolutely no problems came to him, he flew off and lived happily ever after.
Normilan: Look, if that’s the case, then awesome.
Cruroar: Exactly, DM! Just like, something happens and the DM was able to sleep soundly for the rest of his life! Same ending, right?

This ends with the DM waking up to Normilan eating beans. The DM calls for 3 Will saving throws for everyone. Seriously. They elect to take the northern path, and as such the DM also calls for a Survival check to keep to their path.

Normilan: The other way is south?
Brunt: The other way is through the mines of Moria!
Normilan: Malt beer! Roasted meat off the bone!
DM: The funny thing is, that is pretty close to the dwarves. They are down south. Along with the Gatekeeper! I’m sure he’d like to see you all again.
Normilan: Is that where it’d take us!?
DM: Depends on how far south you go.
Brunt: We can tell the Gatekeeper about the untimely of…
Eilnys: Maximiano?
DM: ‘You brought me a snack,’ says the Gatekeeper, skewering Glimmer and setting him over a fire.
Normilan: That’s probably not a good idea.

The DM calls for a food audit, and they have about two weeks’ each – not enough to get home. They also think to ask Quirion.

DM: ‘Let’s see if Lady Tasha wrote down any rations for me… …I don’t have a thing to my name?! I’m not even wearing robes! How long have I been naked and no one told me?!’
Normilan: Looks like he’s getting the majority of these rations.
DM: ‘Oh wait, I have leather armor. PHEW!’
Normilan: There’s no ass covering.

The DM emphasizes the weary emptiness of the days, with nothing to do but travel on and fear pursuit. He also describes them as whipping the horses till they bleed, so no one is really buying into the atmosphere here. Then the DM calls for Spot checks!

Cruroar: We are in disguise, by the way. A different set of disguises.
DM: Giles is the first to see it: a dot in the sky.
Giles: “Something’s in the sky. Wonder if it’s our dragon-buddy.”
Cruroar: Could very well could be.
Giles: Pirates! Panic!
Cruroar: All I hear is, ‘I am Don Karnage!’
Normilan: I’m more impressed that I can hear his voice before the noise of his plane.
Cruroar: He’s Don Karnage, what do you expect?
DM: His charisma is legendary, Normilan.

It is indeed Glimmer, who swoops down to plot on their roof as they are familiar with. They greet him!

Cruroar: “Did you have a fun adventure?”
DM: “I – WHOA! I’m—so sorry, I have the wrong wagon!”
Cruroar: “It’s fine, it’s fine!”

They explain to Glimmer! And stop Ka Shem from bludgeoning Glimmer with a plank, because holy shit dragon. This honestly kind of impresses her.

Brunt: Cruroar has no friends, he slays everyone he meets.
Lucian: Is that dragon asking where Tasha is? No, because this dragon doesn’t give a shit.
DM: HE JUST GOT HERE! Also, the honest answer to that question is, since the rest of you are in disguise, the dragon assumes the heir is Tasha.
Brunt and Eilnys: Oooh.
DM: No one’s told him…
Brunt: He won’t care, will he?
DM: ‘Tasha’s dead.’ ‘Huh? What? You just break it like that?!’

They explain their efforts to avoid carnies, and do explain Tasha’s loss to Glimmer.

Normilan: “This one’s new.”
Brunt: “She’s not in disguise.”
DM: ‘Oh, already replaced her with a new character, I see. You guys really are adventurers.’
Normilan: Man, Glimmer’s a dick. A meta dick.
DM: Only out of character.

Brunt makes a terrific joke conflating the DM’s name with Glimmer’s. Somehow they are attacked by a poo golem; Eilnys repels it with the Wand of TP. Lucian verifies his bread-and-butter bonus.

Normilan: Or boob-and-butt bonus.
DM: And the wagon begins its approach. You realize you’ve all made a terrible mistake. Brass dragons love to talk.
Normilan: Ohhh, yeah.
DM: Quirion… about the same. And rather than being dull and humdrum from now on, your days are filled with constant, ongoing chatter about something of everything, what with Quirion’s ranks—
Cruroar: As long as any information about the heir and everything else is said, but whenever that I brought up, the heir or what we’re doing, I stop him. Immediately. ‘Ah!’ ‘Well see the heir—‘ ‘Aaah!’ ‘We went to the—‘ ‘AAAH!’ You have a lot of other stuff to talk about!
DM: “So anyway, he’s a count.” “Really a count?”

Quirion talks about the characters. He is renamed ‘Quarion Tashafollower Barrel-Rider. At last, they reach a river, which Normilan deems to be three feet across, while Cruroar describes 13 hungry gryphons here, and 37 hungry ursas at the next one.

Normilan: Who calls bears ‘ursas’?
Lucian: Wait, is it a duck-bear?
Normilan: Hmm.
DM: Barely visible far off to the north, along the curve of the river as it meanders through these plains, you can spot a faint curl of smoke drifting upwards.
Lucian: As a man sits puffin on a pipe.
Cruroar: What kind of fucking pipe does he smoke?!
Normilan: ‘They call me Smokestack.;
DM: ‘I’m the Toking Giant. You’ve heard of a high giant? That’s me. Man, I’ve got the munchies.’ (mimes eating the party)

They ask Glimmer to scout, and with keep dragon vision he determines it’s a town. They quickly declares themselves to be pilgrims, apparently, and tell Glimmer to beat it. He looks sad. Then they tell him he can hide in the wagon, but he has to be quiet. He looks sad.

Normilan: Which side of the river is it on?
DM: A little from column A, a little from column B.
Normilan: Okay, so it’s probably got a bridge.
DM: Most likely—
Brunt: So it’s Laketown.
DM: NOT EVERYTHING ASSOCIATED WITH WATER IS LAKETOWN, BRUNT!
Brunt: It’s Rivertown.
Cruroar: Speaking of Laketown, it’s probably to the north. (describing a curved arrow)
Brunt: I’m sorry.
Cruroar: Why are you apologizing?!
Brunt: You know how mad he gets when you reference that!
Cruroar: We all make mistakes. And the DM has made me remember many a mistake in my days.

They head along the river to the town, and make out a large building that looks well-kept among the dilapidated and ramshackle houses of the town. A tavern! Booze! Probably Lucian!

DM: Sighing, Glimmer clambers into the wagon. You hear an awkward pair of yelps, before Quirion and Ka Shem emerge, Quirion clutching at his arm and her just looking like her dignity’s been affronted.
Normilan: Where’s Bimmy and Jimmy?
DM: They’re staying with the wagon to guard it.
Lucian: Are they still with you guys, even though Tasha’s dead?
DM: WHERE WOULD THEY GO?!
Normilan: ‘Welp, it’s been fun guys.’
DM: ‘We’re joining the Clans now!’

Cruroar insists they should change the wagon so it is unrecognizable. Then he clarifies he meant they should do so with supplies purchased in the town, and everyone understands much better.

Brunt: What are you gonna do, pull like a Snoopy with a doghouse? (miming a flurry of construction) There you go!
DM: Great, you’ve made the caravan into a Sopwith Camel.

Only Normilan laughs. They head in and immediately are eyed by an old man with a giant pipe. The smoke apparently comes from a corpse pile burning behind him?

DM: Eilnys calls out a greeting. He raises one bushy eyebrow, that looks like it probably takes the force of ten men to lift it. “Travelers, eh?”
Normilan: “Aye.”
DM: “Welcome to Gurst! I hope you enjoy your stay. Hee hee hee!”
Brunt: That’s a Dark Souls NPC right there.
DM: You roll on up to the tavern outside, parking your wagon parallel to it. Cruroar’s convinced you’re three buildings down.
Cruroar: See? See? I just preempted that bullshit with my own anger.

Most of them mosey on it – Cruroar goes to chat up the old man again, still looking for supplies to doctor the wagon.

Normilan: Ask him like this: is anyone here—
Cruroar: A carpenter or a blacksmith.
DM: “If so, do you think this town would look like that?”
Cruroar: “I thought I’d check.”
DM: “We’re a tavern town.”
Cruroar: “I see. Got paint?”
Brunt: ‘Most customers don’t ask for a mug of paint…’
DM: “Try old Jaelbon.”
Cruroar: “Old Jailbug?”
DM: “JaelBON. Bon.”
Cruroar: “Bon?”
DM: “Bon.”
Normilan: Bon-bons?!
Cruroar: “Where can I find him?” (a beat) “At the tavern.”
DM: “Ha ha ha! The boy learns. Ah ha ha ha ha ha!”
Normilan: ‘Add another one to the pile!’

Cruroar gives him five silver, and he scoops up the money in a flash – and reveals there are more travelers. His psychic aching knee warns him of trouble, he says!

Cruroar: “Thanks. Good to know.”
Brunt: (laughing) Cruroar is like Squall Leonhart.
Normilan: That Charisma of 21 is going to all looks.
Cruroar: I can’t be charismatic right now.
Brunt: Hey, nobody calls Cruroar unchrasismatic.

Cruroar heads for the tavern, while Brunt is in fits of laughter over the idea of the rest of the party emerging from Cruroar’s chest on command. The group steps into the warm, bright, welcoming tavern. Townsfolk glare and mutter, a corner group glances their way, but the bartender welcomes them warmly!

DM: Lucian!
Normilan: Are you a bartender in this game?
Lucian: Noooo.
DM: Sitting in one of the far corners, you see your quarry has appeared. You’ve been told what their disguises are, how to anticipate, and this is where you knew to meet them.
Lucian: I’m just gonna watch them.
Cruroar: Wait, we changed our disguises halfway down! What the fuck?!
Normilan: Who’s been scrying at us?

Lucian refuses to approach, as the bartender welcomes them effusively and passes Eilnys a drink. Cruroar wanders around, looking for Jaelbon, while the bartender tells them to pay what they think the drink is worth. The group cynically expects poison. The bartender also helpfully points out Jaelbon. (Here the transcriber makes a note to more carefully check music-playing phone distance from the mic.)

Eilnys: So far I’m giving him 20 copper.
DM: The coins disappear so fast you’d almost swear you hadn’t put them out. He tips you a bow and doffs an imaginary cap.
Cruroar: But it’s a real cap because it’s a hat of disguise, and his demon form appears!
DM: Roooooaaar! ‘Ooh! Don’t know my own strength.’

Normilan remembers to inquire about provisions; the bartender assures him he can provide, especially cheese wheels! Brunt inquires about how the provisions come his way, and hears ‘connections’ – this is the bartender’s retirement? The DM calls for a Listen check.

Lucian: I am humming to myself with my fingers stuck in my ears. I rolled a natural 1. I’m sitting there, ‘la la la la la!’
DM: ‘If I can’t hear them I can’t react to the fact that I’m supposed to know them!’

Those who pass hear distinct pops outside, the familiar sound of teleportation. Brunt heads for the privies, and just as he does, the front door opens!

DM: In steps, looking completely out of place here, an elf.
Brunt: With a ball of peasants.
Eilnys: Is it Lassarin, Keyvsan Lassarin?
DM: No. To begin, it’s like a little piece of the outer planes itself. The elf almost has a sort of pastel air, looking very much as if she’d stepped out of another world entirely. Her full plate is entirely out of place; it gleams to perfection.
Brunt: Do they know her?!
DM: Who are you asking?
Brunt: Well – if they recognize her…
DM: WHO is THEY?!
Normilan: The people of the town.
Brunt: The other people that did not go to the bathroom! The party members! Is it the Sixth Army?
DM: No.
Eilnys: Is it – Lassarin’s psionicist chick?
DM: No! She’s also human!
Lucian: He hasn’t explained anyone’s reactions! I rolled a Spot check to see what she looks like!
DM: I’ve been describing her!

The DM hints that she’s nobility, judging by the ornateness of the armor. And also – she’s a high elf!

Eilnys: I just kind of elbow Quirion!
DM: You try to elbow Quirion, only to find that he’s practically shrunk in on himself, and he’s muttering, ‘ohshitohshitohshitohshit’. The rest of the tavern is staring at this procession. You guys were pretty okay! You guys didn’t look anywhere near as weird as this. This – the fuck is this?!
Eilnys: “Go follow Brunt to the jakes. I know elves don’t shit, go follow Brunt to the jakes. Now.”
Brunt: Elves don’t shit.
Eilnys: No, they poop rainbows, and fart lightning.
DM: Even as Quirion starts to slink off his stool, four more elves come in after him. One of them, wearing the garbs of robes littered with arcane runes, flicks a finger at the back door. It slams shut violently – right behind Brunt, in fact.
Brunt: Huh. A door slammed. I’ll just have to make my way around the front.
Giles: Where the elven army is.
Eilnys: I tug Quirion down and go, “Talk fast.”
DM: “Don’t I always?!”
Eilnys: “Explain now!”
DM: “They’re – they’re – they’re here for me.” The elf who appears to be their leader, who came in first, sweeps a regal glance around the room before her eyes light on you at the bar. Glancing up at the hats and headbands you wear as part of your hats of disguise. “I think what depresses me the most is that you thought this would fool me.”
Eilnys: “Actually it had nothing to do with you.”
DM: “That’s terrific. Wonderful. Thank you.” She takes a step forward, promptly catches her foot on the back of a chair leg, and trips. Windmills forward and all but crashes into the bar in the midst of you.
Lucian: Ohh! Classic, classic anime entrance!
Normilan: Huh. Apparently all high elves are clumsy.
Brunt: Did you go all Last Jedi on us here?
Eilnys: “Lad. Does this happen often?”
DM: “Um. It kind of runs in the family.”
Normilan: Oh, it’s a family member! Nice.
Eilnys: “Is this your sister?”
DM: She slaps her hands on the bar, straightens up. The other elves behind her are fidgeting and looking awkward, trying to pretend that didn’t happen. She stalks two steps away, whirls, and turns to face you all. Meanwhile, outside! You head for the front, give me a Spot check.
Cruroar: Are you being like the lawyer from Jurassic Park, gonna go sit in the bathroom and wait for the T-rex to eat you?
Brunt: I’ve already been eaten by a dinosaur!

Rolling well, Brunt notices a group of people huddled in an alley and staring at the tavern entrance. He wanders over to talk to them, startling them enough that a hood slips and he spots they too are elves.

DM: “Oh we were just going to go into the tavern, only to find that there’s apparently an elven army going in there! Very odd!”
Cruroar: The fuck you gonna use the word ‘army’ for, for five people! How many elves were there?!
Brunt: We have a single-person army back home! Whose name is ‘d’Airmee’.
DM: Yes. FOR THE RECORD she got that name when she got the title!
Brunt: Oh.
DM: It’s not a thing where she was named that before, she was literally given that name because of the title.
Brunt: Oh – okay, I misunderstood.
DM: I don’t know if I ever clarified it.
Normilan: No! Obviously you hadn’t.
Brunt: I guess I didn’t pursue it.
DM: Well you finally stung my pride enough that I have to say it.
Eilnys: Hack!
DM: (sputtering) Damn it!
Brunt: I just thought it was a nice flourish, if a little contrived.
DM: It was literally contrived!
Brunt: “I don’t think an army would fit in there.”
DM: “Five elves is certainly a lot to see out here,” say the five elves.

Everyone liked that one, as Brunt debates with the elves why the other elves are here. The outside elves just shrug and demur.

Brunt: “Well! There’s no reason for it to concern any of us then, let’s go in and enjoy a drink.”
DM: “I suppose you’re right.” They glance among each other, realizing they’ve been outmaneuvered, and start sauntering for the door.
Brunt: “On the other hand, they may not be the kind of elves that like the… peasantly appearance that we might portray. Pray let me go in first and let me get the lay of the situation,”
DM: Roll Diplomacy.
Brunt: INTIMIDATE!
Eilnys: Brunt and I don’t know how to do diplomacy. Our Diplomacy IS Intimidate.
Brunt: My Diplomacy is keeping my fool mouth shut – there you go.
DM: “We’ll go in first. You stay out here. In case it’s not safe,” they say. Wondering how you lost control of the situation, you find yourself behind the elves as they head for the door. Inside, the elf looks at you all. “So, beneath those disguises, which one of you is ‘Tasha’?”
Eilnys: “She’s dead.”

Everyone cracks up at how blunt this was, and debate if it was appropriate.

DM: “Well, that does happen to humans a lot, I’ve found on my time in this planet… Very well. Quirion, you have nothing to hold you here. So… we’re going.”
Normilan: “He’s under our charge now.”
DM: “Yes, I have signed up under them, we have a mission and I’m going to see it through.”
Cruroar: The MOMENT he says the word ‘mission’ – “AAAH!” Force of habit at this point.
DM: “No no! LONG-term mission to defeat the undead!”
Cruroar: (a pause, then a weary sigh) “…Acceptable.”
DM: The bartender is just…
Cruroar: I’m still trying to get the other’s guys attention at this point.
DM: At this moment, a party of five enters the building. Hooded and robed. Completely inconspicuous. There’s no reason to think anything is weird about this.
Giles: This place is getting crowded.
Normilan: It’s going to be a big shitshow in a moment, isn’t it.
Brunt: This room is going to be Reservoir Dogs in less than two minutes. Well, they’ve gone in and haven’t been replaced by an outward-shooting fireball, so I’m going in.
DM: Give me a Spot check as you’re heading in.
Brunt: See if I catch the bows trained on the door. 29.
DM: Ooh, that’s very good. You spot in the very faint distance what look to be horsemen approaching the town from the same direction you came.
Lucian: Oh Jesus, this is turning into—
Normilan: A real shitshow. Wow, this is gonne be like the Battle of Five Armies, except in this tavern town.

Brunt heads in, and dungeoncrashes everyone by accident. Quirion refuses to come with his sister, even as his sister insists and threatens the others should they try to stop him.

Brunt: “This elven intrigue will have to wait. Horsemen approach at speed.”
DM: “Horsemen?!”
Brunt: “Barkeep? What sort of patronage from out of town do you normally have here?”
DM: “Much less than this, I assure you. But I think I can explain everything. Hold on one moment.”
Brunt: He’s gone.
Cruroar: Leaves.
DM: Yes!
Brunt: He knows, he knows…

They send Quirion to raid the cheese wheels? Brunt insists that they sort this out later, knowing this is about to go to hell, while Cruroar tries to get the local peasants right the hell out.

DM: The five people in the corner stand up as one. But rather than head for the door, throw back their cloaks.
Eilnys: It’s the thrallherd.
DM: Yes! You recognize these outfits! Definitely the colors and markings of the circus that you robbed. “You’re not taking them anywhere!” the one in the front said. “We’ll be killing them here and now, and you too if you get in the way! FOR MASTER GUNDAR!” “For Master Gundar!” they bellow.
Cruroar: HOW CAN THEY—
Giles: Really.
Normilan: Our group, elves, them, other elves—
Brunt: It’s the Battle of Five Armies!
Normilan: And the horsemen! This IS the Battle of Five Armies!

The PCs are just – gobsmacked, and the players a little furious that so many parties defeated their efforts to dodge pursuit. But the DM isn’t done yet!

Brunt: Well, first thing to do is get those elves back out the front door.
Normilan: Um. Lassarin.
DM: No sooner do you think of that than the elves fling back their hoods, revealing they are in fact grey elves.
Normilan: Aw crap.
Cruroar: (laughing and clapping)
DM: “You won’t be killing them! We’ll be killing them! For what they’ve done to us!” “No! The honor of their deaths will belong to us – FOR MASTER GUNDAR!” “For Master Gundar!” “Nobody’s killing anyone. I am taking him back to my land and you all are not going to stop me.”

The PCs steal cheese wheels and leave. Except not – spells are readied and blades are drawn, the three groups staring each other down. And the battlefield gets set out! Weirdly, the DM has already blown his voice out. A long time later, initiative is called for! Wizards act first, casting Mirror Images, while Quirion’s sister moves forward.

Cruroar: Who did she walk past?
Brunt: Normilan, and…
Cruroar: A whole lot of people. And just didn’t take any attack of opportunity.
DM: Are you guys gonna take a swing at her?
Lucian: Can somebody pick up a stool and throw it at her?
Brunt: If anybody is going to be on our fucking side in this fight, it’s her.

The players angrily demand colored bases for better target identification, and a countdown timer for the arrival of the horsemen. Quirion’s sister commands a wizard who just acts and he lobs a Glitterdust into the other elves (and Brunt, to his infinite dismay). Music plays directly into the microphone, obliterating the transcription. Eilnys moves dwarvenly-slowly up towards the thralls.

Lucian: (pointing at a mini) Is he like, the leader of the group?
DM: No, that’s Brunt.

Brunt grumbles about being blind, as he does for the entire ensuing fight, and swings into the fray, taking out a mirror image on a wizard. Lucian finally gets up and joins the fight alongside Brunt.

Lucian: “I’m here to assist you, orc.”
DM: He doesn’t look like an orc. He’s disguised as a laborer.
Lucian: What race are you in disguise?
Brunt: Half-orc.
Lucian: Still a half-orc? I’m not gonna be all, “I’m here to help you, HALF-orc.”

Lucian stabs some mirror images. Giles jogs up to the thralls, after a spat over mini places, and sneak-attacks a thrall.

Lucian: You can destroy my chain shirt and just give me Tasha’s mithril in replacement.
Normilan: Nope, I’m keeping it.
Lucian: No way, man, I need it.
Normilan: Nope.
Lucian: Can you even use it?
Normilan: Yeah! I have a chance of failing my spells, but I can use it.
Giles: 20 damage.
DM: You stab that ranger. She lets out a scream as the blade enters her side.
Giles: Damn thralls.
Brunt: Well, it’s not like they have a choice.

Normilan hastes everyone but Cruroar, which no one remembers for the entirety of the fight. A druid on the high elves’ side lobs a flame strike into the thralls (and Giles, who evades); the ranger he stabbed hits Giles in return for 10.

Brunt: I do miss the flavor text. Although the way you describe it so well… it sounds like X-ray moves in Mortal Kombat. You’re fine when it’s done, but it looks so awful! You shouldn’t be okay!
Giles: Ouch.

A druid lobs a flame strike into the high elves in return, along with Normilan and Quirion, who somehow pass their saving throws. Giles gets greatsworded for 13, then the DM recants that. Cruroar sends his familiar out front to watch for the horsemen. Cruroar blasts into the fray, dealing 20 damage. Giles is in trouble!

Brunt: You’re getting backstabbed.
DM: Yep, I’m afraid so.
Giles: Maybe the rogue should not charge blindly into a group of enemies.
DM: Yep, I’m afraid so.
Lucian: I’ve learned that many a time…
DM: Giles, you are backstabbed for 20 points of damage.
Cruroar: At least you can’t be backstabbed.
DM: This guy would love to go finish Giles off, but there’s a fucking table in the way, he doesn’t want to climb on it. Aaaah, he charges over there, lashed an attack into that guy, but it goes wild, despite the fact that his foe is blind. Dumbass.
Brunt: How’d he miss a blind guy?
DM: He rolled really low, that’s how.

Quirion gets grappled, once they determine who isn’t Normilan. The group demans Babau Slime, but Normilan cannot deliver. Someone gets slammed through a table? No, someone got enlarged. No one has sympathy for the DM trying to run this fight. A grey elf turns on Lucian, but blindly misses a lot. Brunt is blind!

Lucian: If I yell commands in his ear, telling him to, like, swing here—
Normilan: No! Stop it.
Lucian: I can’t try to be his eyes?
Normilan: Stop it! Get help.

A wizard casts Darkness onto a coin and hurls it into the fray, catching a loooot of people. Magic missiles riddle Lucian for 16. Eilnys emerges from the darkness and whacks a guy, while Lucian goes to town on an enlarged person. Brunt beasts through both blindness and Mirror Image to whack a wizard, someone casts a spell, and then Giles is up. He fails to tumble through an occupied space, but the AOOs hailing down all miss and he gets the hell out.

Normilan: I grab a copper coin from my pouch, cast Light on it, and throw it into the darkness.
DM: Accurately thrown. The coins land next to each other and you can just basically see one sphere of light and one sphere of darkness around them as they cancel out. Attacks continue to fly, someone cures a ranger, and then Cruroar’s familiar warns of DOUBLE INCOMING! Cruroar and the DM argue over whether he can fly high enough to avoid attacks.

Lucian: Why can’t he lay prone against the ceiling, and then it would be 15 feet.
Normilan: Go for a scrape.

Cruroar blasts a ranger and nails the Sickening Blast, making her hurl vigorously. A rogue tried to flank Eilnys but she’s using a power to not be flanked. She is promptly dubbed Man-E-Faces.

Brunt: I assume I’m Beast Man.
Cruroar: Oh god! Doesn’t that make me the fucking wizard? Whatever the guy was with no legs—
Brunt: Orko? You’re Orko!
DM: I’m so sorry, man.
Normilan: I like the description.

Eilnys gets blasted with a Shocking Grasp, but the DM is mostly rolling terribly tonight and attacks miss a lot. Quirion is getting dragged to the door! They declare him lost forever, despite him being like five feet away. Quirion’s sister threatens Normilan with a sword, the message about staying out of the Quirion-dragging, and more magic missiles fly around. Eilnys rages! The DM is baffled that the players (i.e. Giles) just charged into the fray.

DM: “Here it comes!” the earth elemental shouts in your mind, and at that moment the doors crash open. (putting down a brass dragon mini)
Normilan: Oh!
Giles: More fun?
DM: “What the –?!”
Cruroar: “Get. To Quorion.”
Normilan: Who?
Cruroar: Qu-Quarion? Quirion. That’s how I’m going to say it. The shoulders are coming!

Glimmer shoots across the battlefield and lands next to the kidnapping elf, making him practically piss his pants. Attacks fly left and right, Normilan, respecting Quirion’s sister, pushes through the battlefield.

Giles: Is there a bad guy right next to me?
Normilan: No, that’s me!
DM: No, you ran like hell!
Giles: Yeah, okay. Good.

Giles proposes joining a melee; they try to remind him what happened the first time he charged in. Normilan then lobs Enlarge at Quirion. A wizard puts Bull’s Strength on his opponent! Some of the grey elves flee, this battle having gone quite badly for them.

DM: 5, 5, 3! I am really cursed tonight.

With the hour late, the battle is put on hold till the next session. Will our heroes survive? (Yes.)