(no subject)

[dragonoflife]

The DM of this session has made this campaign specifically to indoctrinate a new player into the fold of D&D. The transcriber calls for a name role call! The players are useless in responding. The game begins with the PCs slowly assembling in Red Larch!

DM: Red Larch is a town on the Long Road a few days’ travel north of Waterdeep and a few days’ south of Tribemoor. It’s a waystop for caravans coming to and from the cities of the north, with an inn named the Swinging Sword, a tavern called the Helm at Highsun.
Aus: Elbows rubbed! Stories sung, stories told, elbows rubbed!

Zug-zug, the bard, is playing as is a bardly wont, while the rangers are in town resupplying. They’re the normal ones.

DM: There’s a little bit of a hubbub because there’s something you don’t see every day in town. Three characters you don’t see every day, with a changeling, and a minotaur—
Zurgas: Playing the bagpipes.
DM: Playing the bagpipes.
Zurgas: It’s how I announce myself coming into town. I find that if I just stalk in, people panic. And rightfully so, because I’m a minotaur, and better than them, so if I play the bagpipes they can hear me coming.
Devotion: WHY?! Does every one of your characters have to be a FLAMING NARCISSIST!
DM: To ask the question is to know the answer, because -- (gesturing at Zurgas)
Devotion: No. That’s… no.
Zurgas: In my defense it’s a minotaur thing.
Aus: It’s a YOU thing. It’s a YOU thing.
DM: Thank you!
Zurgas: No, I keep playing the races that do that.
DM: Well, you’re being confronted. By a, uh, gentleman. He’s also the constable, so he’s probably watching you with a befuddled look on his face, because he’s never seen a minotaur before, much less a minotaur playing the frickin’ bagpipes.
Zurgas: I pause my forward progression and begin swaying to the rhythm of my song, encouraging him to join in with the beat.
DM: No. He’s not doing that. He’s standing in front of you. Zug-zug, you are actually hearing bagpipes outside.
Zug-zug: Awesome.
DM: And I imagine you, Zeth, and you, Devotion, are walking up the road hearing bagpipes being played.
Devotion: ‘What a wonderful sound. Surely made by the hairiest and burliest of beings.’
DM: You’re not far wrong.
Devotion: But not the way I want.

Zurgas finishes his playing. Somehow this fails to wipe the befuddled expression from the constable’s face.

Zurgas: “Hello.”
DM: “Hello, good… bull?”
Zurgas: “That works. How may I help you?”
DM: “I have to say that… I’m not certain of your…”
Zeth: Gender?
DM: Oh no, he’s seeing the horns at least and the nice basso voice. “Well – what are you doing here?”
Zurgas: “Traveling. A mission. Trouble stirs in this land. Obviously you need a minotaur to solve these problems, or at least assist. And so guided, I have come here. But! Perhaps you can aid me in turn.”
DM: “Perhaps…”
Zurgas: “A mile’s worth of trail dust is in my lungs right now. I could really go for wetting my whistle to clean it out. Is there a tavern here?”
DM: “There is. You may have to duck.”
Zurgas: “These things happen.”

A persistent confusion immediately begins with regards to which named building is which establishment and which they went to.

DM: The sign is very obvious. It’s a very large sign, carved in the shape of a scimitar, painted in red, and on it, on both sides, are the words ‘The Swinging Sword’. You can’t miss it.
Zurgas: “And I am literate.”
Devotion: (cracking up)
Zurgas: (cracking up at Devotion)
Devotion: On the back of your box, under your tech spec, everyone’s got a quote and yours will be, “And I am literate.”
DM: You don’t get experience points for choking Devotion.
Devotion: ‘Freedom is the right of all sentient beings.’ ‘I am literate.’

The group slowly assembles into the bar, with Zurgas bellying-up to the bar and threatening a stool with his bulk. The bar is rather silent.

Turbis: ‘A wet whistle, please.’
Zurgas: “I’d like something I can taste.”
DM: “Well.” Human female behind the bar, and she’s just got the same sort of look the constable gave you. “Well, you’re willing to pay for it. Uh…” She taps you the darkest ale she’s got in a nice big tankard.
Zurgas: “I assure you I am not the vanguard of the minotaur invasion force. You’ll know when that gets here. It’s not me.”
DM: (just looking at him)
Zurgas: “You’re regarding me with skepticism.”
DM: “No, I’m regarding you with worry.”
Zurgas: “I just told you. I’m NOT the vanguard. No worry need apply.”
DM: “But if you’re warning me that means there IS going to be a vanguard. I’m not sure I like that.”
Zurgas: “Eventually, but not today.”
Aus: ‘I’m just a Nazi soldier, I’m not the SS…’
Zurgas: ‘I propose we give Poland to Germany.’
DM: Yes, Zug-zug, you see – THAT.
Zurgas: “Yes. A minotaur who’s DISTINCTLY not the vanguard of the minotaur invasion force. People worry about this, and they have good cause to, for when the minotaur empire gets here, they will conquer this land without so much as breaking a sweat. But again! That is not me. I’m here for different reasons.”
DM: “…………………….I see.”

Focus turns to Devotion and Zeith, who have had the distinct pleasure of seeing this sight from the outside.

Devotion: “Lo! A demon! Shall we banish it?”
Zeith: “Um, it was playing the bagpipes, I don’t think it’s that deadly. Maybe it’s just some weird bard.”
Zurgas: Yeah, only WEIRD bards play bagpipes.
DM: Yeah, Zug-zug’s weird, he plays bagpipes too.
Zug-zug: I thought of outplaying him, but he’s the biggest creature I’ve seen, so I’m just gonna kind of wait it out. Stop playing the flute, just gonna wait.

Turbis comes into the tavern and immediately leaves, Grandpa Simpson style. Then comes back in and moseys on up.

Turbis: “Now that’s something you don’t see every day.”
Zurgas: ‘TWO bagpipe players.’
Aus: People reading books!
Faerun: Faerun is probably just sitting quietly in the corner with his dog staying out of sight…
Turbis: I assumed we were together.
Faerun: Oh, are we together?!
Aus: Faerun continues to prove he is NOT Turbis’s friend.
Faerun: Sows the seeds of division, does he…

Zurgas retreads the conversation about invasion forces, apparently feeling the need to now reassure Turbis.

Turbis: “Is there an invasion force coming?”
Zurgas: “Eventually. We’re going to get around to it sooner or later. I—I’m not on the planning committee… My destiny is here. Something is afoot. As you say. You see in the minotaur empire, we would say something is ahoof, and once we actually take over, that will be the standard language, but I’m making an effort to accommodate my speech to your local idiom.”
Devotion: “A drink would do nicely…”
Zeith: “I drink all the time. But it’d be a good treat.”
Devotion: “It’s rather loud.”
DM: It’s loud because he’s--!
Devotion: Moo moo moo moo, moo moo…
Zurgas: I’m ROLEPLAYING over here! What the hell is this judgment?!
Zeith: Moo moo moo.
DM: Moo moo moo moo moo!
Zurgas: You can’t yell at me for going moo moo moo when I just said I was making an effort to accommodate my speech to the local idioms! I mean any other time, sure, but it directly contradicts what I was saying.
DM: Moo.
Zurgas: God damn it!
Aus: “The minotaur… Your empire’s natural language is Common?”
Zurgas: “We’ve learned to speak it over time. Take it up with the people who wrote the Unearthed Arcana supplement in which we appear.”
Aus: “That seems kinda awkward to go around and update all the idioms when you conquer a nation. That seems like a lot of extra steps. Are you gonna make rules? ‘You’re gonna get two mistakes – it’s hoof now, not foot. Hoof, not foot.’ Has this happened before?”

It – it goes ON like this. The others start roleplaying under this discussion – not over, because Zurgas and Aus are the two damn loudest members of the group. One line manages to sneak through…

Devotion: “It sounds like it’s here to take over.”
Zurgas: “I’ve been saying! No! I am NOT the vanguard of the minotaur invasion force!”
Devotion: “Your ears function well for such a loud fellow.”
Zurgas: “I have Perception proficiency!”
DM: (smacks Zurgas for breaking the fourth wall)

Zurgas explains he is here to seek trouble as commanded by the ocean itself, taking several times as long to say it as need be. The bartender hears this, though, and reveals there are disturbances near town! Devotion, who certainly does not make all his characters grumpy and misanthropic in the way he accuses Zurgas of only making arrogant egotistical blowhards, has a thought.

Devotion: “They send him to find trouble. If we can just find a wagon to unstick from a mudhole he should be on his way.”

They hassle the DM of the primitive north campaign to pick up the campaign; that DM has no idea what they’re talking about. They remind him that was the campaign in which Khor wanted a dinosaur animal companion and he instantly remembers, to Khor’s player’s fury.

Zurgas: “What time is it?”
DM: “Well it is kind of getting late, you spent a lot of time playing bagpipes and being confronted by the others.”
Zurgas: “I do enjoy my bagpipes and confrontation.”
Aus: “Perhaps I will join you in this journey. Sounds like fun!”
Zurgas: “Then at first dawn’s light I shall awake, and after a refreshing repast, for breakfast is the most important meal of the day for the minotaur empire—“
Aus: “Hold on, sir. Since you’re in our culture right now, I have this book right here. ‘No Breakfast Before Murder.’ It’s one of the rules in this town.”
Zurgas: “I shall be committing murder outside the local borough jurisdictions!”

They break for the inn, but quickly exchange introductions all around! Since it’s, you know, a D&D game, they in turn offer to go with Zurgas and aid him in finding his destination and investigation. He accepts delightedly.

Zurgas: “Then as said! After a healthy repast, which shall not precede local jurisdictional murder, I shall proceed that way.”
Zeith: “Yeah.”

Locational confusion rears its ugly head, and insanity sets in.

DM: …but this does not serve repast.
Zurgas: And I was very specific on repast.
DM: “Our bake ovens have problems.”
Zurgas: “Perhaps THIS is what I’m here to investigate. Let me at them!” I roll a Grapple check—no. “No, a repast is important to me.”
Aus: (faintly gibbering with madness) I thought I knew what that word meant, but clearly I don’t understand the word…

Zug-zug adopts a pretty nightmarish voice, as a gnome, and Zurgas nearly steps on his as he volunteers his services and Zurgas tries to figure out who the hell is talking. Locational confusion erupts again. Devotion attempts to send Zurgas to the stables. The DM goes to the bathroom so combat erupts. Aus finally gets furious at use of the word ‘repast’. The DM gives Zug-zug inspiration for the purpose, infuriating Zeith.

Zeith: He’s not that creative. No. I could tell you why—
Aus: Listen. It’s a low bar. It’s a low bar at this table.
DM: And he’s just learning.
Zeith: No! It’s – it’s – I won’t go into detail.

Zurgas does a gnome minotaur and is stripped of yet more DKP by the DM. Aus defends his misunderstanding of ‘hobbling’ a horse.

Aus: So literally! I read the definition of ‘repast’. All it does it replace the word meal! So it’s literally a douchey way of saying ‘meal’!
Devotion: And who are you talking to?
Aus: I dunno why I never put A and B together.
Turbis: He has said it, like, two dozen times.

The linguistic debate gets bizarrely pedantic. Devotion eagerly anticipates his healing prowess (and flying)!

Aus: Oh my god, what’s the name of that – the flying nurse! Oh, nun.
Devotion: I’m not a nun. I’ll take it though.
DM: When you come for the repast – the REPAST! Ohhhh!
Devotion: You mean BREAKFAST?
Turbis: I come to break my fast.
Zurgas: Breakrepast.
Devotion: Breakrepast. Look what you’ve done, you added a syllable to breakfast.

Zeith takes to flipping coins like Two-Face? The repast is apparently nothing but steak and other cow products, and weird. The waitress is apparently twitchy.

DM: She’s just weirded out because of Beef-boy here.
Devotion: Because moo.
Aus: We just hear an argument in the back. ‘Don’t fucking cook cow meat! What are you doing – did you SEE him!?’
Devotion: ‘A great horn beast with bagpipes!’
Aus: ‘Why is the whole meal steak?!’
Devotion: ‘He keeps blathering about a repast. It might be some dark ritual for all I know!’
Zurgas: Repastjuice, Repastjuice, Repastjuice!
Devotion: ‘I talked to me uncle, he said ‘repast’ is child sacrifice!’

The freaked-out waitress drops a report of a necromancer at Lance Rock! More quests! Zurgas attempts to round the crowd up to go.

Zurgas: Welp, I’m doing this alone, except for this guy! Well, to be fair, I’m doing this alone no matter how many of you there are, but nonetheless.
Devotion: Oh right. The bagpipes will sing of your solo prowess.
DM: As you’re wandering out, the constable stops you.
Devotion: (wicked laughter)
Zurgas: I’m being profiled!
Devotion: You must go to either the pasture or the butchers! The repasture! You must be repastured!

Zurgas bowls over the constable with words, and the constable helpfully marks a bandit nest on their map (and quest log). The X-Files theme erupts on several inappropriate instruments, such as the kazoo, the tiny horn™, and the vuvuzela. Off they set, into the flavor text of the surroundings. They teach Faerun how Perception checks work by all being called on to roll one.

Aus: I was definitely reading a book while walking.
Zurgas: You were in the dictionary, looking for ‘repast’.
DM: Those of you who rolled 15 or above, you guys see this. 3 hyena-looking critters—
Devotion: Gnolls!
DM: Yes. Crossing – it’s more a clearing than a field. It might have been a field at one point. What are you doing? This could threaten the town! Are you going to be a hero? Or are you going to be a MOO!

The group yells a lot of moos and then make ready to engage. Rolls ensue, of strikingly and infuriatingly poor quality, and it begins!

Zurgas: “I hope one of these isn’t a flind.”
Aus: What?
Devotion: It’s what his word for ‘lunch’ probably is.
Zurgas: It’s like the ultra-gnoll.
Devotion: How do you tell the difference?
Zurgas: One has higher hit dice.

Turbis opens with a crossbow, then Zurgas charges in and drops the one Turbis hit with a horn strike.

DM: RKMoo outta nowhere!
Zurgas: Slam him onto my horns, flip the body back over my head so it goes arcing into the air! Level my glaive at the other ones.
DM: “WAAAH! WIIIIH! WAAAH!” That’s what you’re getting. Because they’re gnolls. And a dead body falls at your feet.
Zurgas: Jesus Christ! I flung it 60 feet?! My neck muscles must be huge!

Aus rolls a natural 1, as Devotion debates if he should stabilize the gnoll. Aus ends up compensating for an imaginary wind and takes -2 for 3 rounds. A projectile zings past Zurgas from the trees! Exactly 20 seconds passes before the DM finds herself debating with the players just how likely they are to cause a colossal forest fire. Zug-zug fires into the fray and Zeith unloads Sacred Flame. Then Devotion fires off on, begging Ilmater for forgiveness. Turbis dual-wields into the melee. A FLIND emerges! Or a pack-lord, who knows? Zug-zug draws his rapier, discovers he’s not in melee, and is baffled. Zurgas gets hit despite his 18 AC, which irritates him. Faerun sends his dog in to attack, and the idea that he has just a normal dog causes rules conniptions. The flind takes a crapton of damage from hits and crits.

Devotion: That poor soul, take 6 damage.
DM: And it’s somehow still standing.
Devotion: I feel better about it then. No accidental dungeoncrashing for this character…

Zurgas continues to take statistically-unlikely punishment. A Sacred Flame from Zeith finally finished the pack-lord off.

Faerun: So what happens if you have a tool proficiency, bagpipes, but no performance proficiency?
Zurgas: You can still apply your proficiency bonus… it depends on what the DM says.
Devotion: And no matter how good you are with bagpipes—
Aus: You’re still playing bagpipes. It’s an innate -5.
Devotion: Yeah, house rule.

Devotion continues to try to show mercy on the gnolls as his god demands; the rest loot. With that the game is over! Next time: shenanigans!