Missing Sequences: 2025

Monday, 13 October 2025

Steaming Fresh Bull Stuff and that Irresistible Rhythm (Session 321)

SESSION 321: The Dreaming Caldera Pt.3: Stone Cold Crazy

Carla and Bimbles recognized an imminent defeat and called for a tactical retreat into the pavilion and down the steps to hopefully get beyond the reach of the gigantic tyrannical trio….

Day 771 Continued(Underworld): And so, once more, they had descended into the lightless pit. Down ancient black stairs carved into the volcanic rock they were at a cross-roads.

The dungeon was a seemingly natural cavern chambers made of seamless black volcanic glass. Too many 90 degree angles to occur naturally; its architecture defies conventional wisdom of construction. 12’ ceilings, no natural light sources.

To the west were double-doors of iron-reinforced wood.

The east offered a corridor and south was an archway that lead to a black glass bridge in a gapping chamber of acidic odour.

“I take the door, definitely the door”, was Bunny’s contribution.

“Perhaps after we check the corridor was Bimbles’s counter.

The east end was dead.

They returned and were about to go to the door when they remembered the dead goblin up the stairs. Maybe he had loot. He did. An interesting gauntlet with three red fingers. Our gang were not afforded too much time to think about it as a very large and very angry demonic bull covered in thick armoured plates came to the crossroad from the bridge.

A gorgon, crap!

It wasted no time blasting the first of two petrifying breath attacks upon our twits trapped on the steps. Remember there were three giant beings just outside the pavilion at the top of the stairwell. They showed their fortitude with the first blast but the second took its toll. Nara and Charles were now statues. After the second blast the hobos were able to maneuver around the demon-bull and get their chopping in. Dolec and Bimbles faced it head on as the rest of the gang worked the angles. They got it down without further calamity. The pay, after gutting, was not worth the gore and time two pitiful gems that may turn out to simply be kidney stones. If only we had a dwarf with us.

After grabbing a break they pressed on through the door to the east (after a quick picking). This revealed a corridor that lead to a series of ever increasingly hot staging rooms, filled with dopey folk that only responded to talk about the music. In the third and final chamber was the catalyst for a bit of a grand thrall melee. The Heckling was found here a bird-faced runt with a strangely hairy chest that he took some pride in.

He/it was busy posing, and looting, the mixed folk in this chamber he gave simple directions “Braaa wait your turns over there. I will get you stuff so enough. HeHe” to our lot not giving any real consideration. The dwarfy weirdo seemed to be prepping (stealing from) and then assigning tasks these slaves. Something structured was going on but our gang seem to drop clues like birds drop shit, falling never to be seen again every few minutes. The heckling eventually caught on and the jig was up. He sent his legion at our dorks. They slaughtered the sub-humans with abandon while subduing the humans for later interview. When the dust settled the only non-human still breathing in the chamber was Saff. This was to our Ribbit-Queen’s satisfaction. The saved humans could not offer much other than acknowledging that the Heckling had beguiled them and now they were here, wherever that is. They were directed to hunker down, “We will return for you after we have completed our heroic mission”, pledged Lester.

“Works for us. Best of luck”.

Returning to the glossy black dungeon corridor the went further into another chamber the Pentagonal crossroads.

Chittering goblin voices and the rhythmic “thunk” of a butcher knife are audible from outside the door.

Four doors connect to a pentagon shaped-room with 60’ ceilings. Ichor- stained wagon tracks criss-cross the floor. Billowy deposits of white feathers accumulate in the corners. There were four goblinoids working away, huddled in a corner, hacking apart a pile of chickens, fastidiously separating the parts into discrete piles. They ignored our hobos but our sports have a zero tolerance for beastmen, well except Brett & Jermaine of course.

Three doors to choose from.

East.

Another corridor with two door along its path.

They went long.

Welcome to the knackers. The chamber was absurdly hot and lead to a laddered landing in the acidic bridge chamber. Immense iron kettles gurgled over hot coal beds. The northern wall hosted an overstuffed shelf full of pots and jars with opaque, viscous fluids. A blood splattered cutting board and a wet pile of unidentifiable animal tissue cover a table along the southern wall. Four sooty bugbears stirred pots and hacked apart an orc corpse. They seemed to be rendering down their/ the (?) victims into a goo. They were killed with prejudice immediately. After a quick pan and scan Lester acted impulsively. The paladin threw down the Red Prophet’s homing rat. With a spark of mystical energy the dead thing sprung to life. The rat ran like a lightning bolt back down the corridor to the west.

Folks ran after it.

The rat wiggled under the unopened door.

Our hobos followed.

Opening the door unleashed an oppressive wave of hot animal stench. Footfalls were muffled by inches of squishing, compacted filth. A vast chamber of gaping darkness; then surging suddenly into the light: a crashing wave of 1000 screaming chickens.

A poultry wave rolled over the gang. Inter-mixed within the birds were a half-dozen 6’ tall prehistoric-like dire chickens. These things demanded flesh but not in a cannibal like way. Hobo flesh was on the menu.

Game on.

Well sorta, they were still just chickens but from a time long forgotten.

The flock peeled through to points behind and the dire chickens met dire straits.

But!

“For crying out loud! Where is my rat!?!”, screamed out our normally stoic paladin.

The A-Team: Bunny, Carla, Bimbles, Saffron, Charles, Dolec Da, Nara & Lester

ROLECALL

Carla the Green High Priestess of TMB (C10) 363590 xp +10% <400001> CRT 1d12/III

Scars: permanent loss left index finger and scarring on arm

Bimbles the High Priest of GSS (C10) 327825 xp +5% <400001> CRT 1d12/III

+2 save to poison and internal body things; Double eat (gotta feed my baybay)

Bunny the Thief! (T10) 319435 xp <400001> +10% CRT 1d24/II

Light wound: permanent loss of pinky finger, off hand

The Henchmen

Saffron the Mad Fairy Queen of Ribbits (FY8*) 201739 xp <200001> CRT 1d10/III

Moderate wound: Scar on abdomen

Lasting injury: -1 STR, mashed guts

Nara the Nearly Naked Purple Swami Girl (PS7) 116268 xp +5% <125000> CRT 1d16/II

Wraith Drained: -1 CON

Charles in Charge the Myrmidon (F6) 89866 <120000> +10% CRT 1d20/IV

Franz the Grave Return (Lawful; XXXX) Sword

Critical Wound: Punctured lung (-2 CON)

Mostly DEAD. (-1 CON)

Dolec Da the Hero (F7) 74855 xp +10% <120000> CRT 1d20/IV

Missing five teeth

Lester Flanders the Guardian of Oceana (P6) 52155 xp <95000> +5% CRT 1d16/IV

RESERVES

Elapsed Campaign Time

743b days at beginning of session (Boris & Friends just outside of Liwil)

765a (Bunny Group Newville) Busy until 779

724d (Ding-We Gang Lake of Abominations/ Liwil)

Join us for session Three-Hundred-and-Twenty-Two when we ask the questions:

Is something going on down here?

Could we have been more…?

Which way did Lester’s rat go?

Did anyone see anything during the chicken frenzy?

Tale of the Tape

Nara and Charles sailed down the petrification river, see ya later!

KILLS

Angry Gorgon

Orc

Orange Bugbear

Gnolls (3)

Skunk Goblins (4)

Dire Chickens (6)

Sooty Chef Bugbears (4)

LOOT

8 sp

Gems (2): small ruby 10 gp, flawed diamond 50 gp

Glove with three red fingers

Inscribed arrowhead

The Hecklings not empty sack

Wednesday, 8 October 2025

Thems be Cultin' Words! (Session 320)

SESSION 320: The Dreaming Caldera Pt.2: Getting Pummelled

The ascent was the first of their challenges.

Day 767 Continued - 768 (Wilds): A day was used and three winter wolf pelts were salvaged. Bimbles saw nothing but coin as our Elvish guides seemed a little more dejected by the relaxed hero schedule.

Day 769 (Wilds): Back to hiking towards the cloud wall. The journey was unvenetful just slogging through the snow. They camped an hour or so away from the optical barrier.

Day 770 (Wilds): The elves gave some final direction this morning, wished Borlax’s speed to them and the two groups parted company.

The barrier was odd. Thousands of feet high and impenetrable by eye. They planned for the worse and tied everybody off. It ended up simply being a bank fifteen or so feet deep. Just enough to put a little fear into your garden variety murderhobo. Looming, even though it was still a number of miles away was Mt. Embersnake. They made their way working along the broken patches of forest to hide the approach.

By late morning they had reached the “faster/easier” (deforested side) Western trail up Mt. Embersnake. A six thousand foot ascent is a long hike before you factor in the all the switchbacks. They would make less than half the journey today. With this side of the mountain being in the open the gang decided to get invisible for the journey.

It was only an hour or so before the first encounter. A gross little rotund man doing his best to run down the mountain from a pursuing group of baying gnolls. Acting quickly Charles and Dolec sneakily stretched a rope across the path, intending to trip up the gnolls. It did end up sorta working but the little fat guy failed his attempt to waddle over the unsprung trap. He skidded out. Inciting the gnolls to charge. The first two were wanged by the trap and then our troop engaged the group. Those invisibilities didn’t last long did they. The fight was quick. Five well surprised gnolls really stood no chance. The little fat and waxy guy, the Red Prophet, was grateful. Before skipping away giggled a prophecy pout and handed a dead rat to Lester.

Eyeball, tooth, bone, and brow Blaspheme against the true god’s power For each destroyed, the birth forestalls And lucre grease thy grubby paws! Defile the organs with thy swords Then seek the master for your reward.

“The rat will show you the way to the Master”, were his final words. Lester did his good-guy best to appear gracious to the walrus-like man.

They watched him waddle-skip for a spell before continuing the ascent. All went well until high afternoon.

Swooping out of the sun were a trio of pteradon riders armed with bows and lances. They had the first move. Bow fire followed by dive bomb attacks. The run and gun pattern kept them out of melee, at least for awhile. Saffron pulled out her wand of paralysis to turn the tables on these black knights and their prehistoric mounts. For one of them it became very difficult to stay airborne when your mount can no longer fly. They crashed into the slope. The impact did not kill the rider forcing Bunny to become embroiled in a one-on-one. Slowly the gang got the fight under control and opponents began to drop (probably in part assisted by the cheating but too late to punish now). The fight ended the pay was pretty good and then they marched on for awhile more before setting camp.

Day 771 (Wilds): The camp on the slope was thankfully uneventful. It took about three hours to reach the summit. Invisible Bunny crept up and looked over the rim. The mountain was crowned by a dry, 300’ diameter, bowl shaped caldera. Cold winds blew a dusting of snow across its cracked earth. At its center sits a blackened and ruined marble pavilion. A staircase inside descending into the mountain’s core. An armor-clad, foaming from the mouth, elongated limbed giant, kneeled before the pavilion surrounded by javelins embedded in the cracked soil. Bunny fell back and then the group entered the caldera. Nothing happened, so they began running towards the pavilion. As they closed the range to a hundred or so feet away a voice echoed from all directions, “HAVE YOU HEARD THE MUSIC?” .

Then a little hooded gimp limped from the pavilion towards the hobos. Meanwhile the giant had arisen but stood motionless as foam bubbled from its helm and down its body to the dry earth. When the gang (whom began prancing and declaring they had heard the music) and the little guy halved the distance between it thrust forth an iron clad gauntlet and then shrieked “They have not heard the music!”

The tyrant immediately grabbed two adjacent javelins and hurled them. The fight was on. The little guy now identified as a goblin made haste back towards the pavilion. Our tanks rushed the giant only to be greeted by an acidic foam vomit spray and then surprised by two more iron-clad giants erupting from under the earth. The fight started out on the wrong foot and only got worse. The tyrants seemed indifferent to physical damage as the smashed hobo with the mighty fists connected to their abnormally long arms. The clerics each transformed bundles of sticks into snakes in an attempt to distract the beasts to allow the gang to regroup. The giants gave almost no heed to the snakes after a couple of quick smashes obliterating scores of serpents. The fight was going really poorly at least they were able to neutralize the goblin before it escaped and likely sounded the alarm.

Carla and Bimbles recognized an imminent defeat and called for a tactical retreat. Into the pavilion and down the steps they bolted to hopefully evade the reach of the tyrannical trio….

The A-Team: Bunny, Carla, Bimbles, Saffron, Charles, Dolec Da, Nara & Lester

ROLECALL

Carla the Green High Priestess of TMB (C10) 358909 xp +10% <400001> CRT 1d12/III

Scars: permanent loss left index finger and scarring on arm

Bimbles the High Priest of GSS (C10) 323144 xp +5% <400001> CRT 1d12/III

+2 save to poison and internal body things; Double eat (gotta feed my baybay)

Bunny the Thief! (T10) 314754 xp <400001> +10% CRT 1d24/II

Light wound: permanent loss of pinky finger, off hand

The Henchmen

Saffron the Mad Fairy Queen of Ribbits (FY7) 199399 xp <200001> CRT 1d10/III

Moderate wound: Scar on abdomen

Lasting injury: -1 STR, mashed guts

Nara the Nearly Naked Purple Swami Girl (PS7) 113928 xp +5% <125000> CRT 1d16/II

Wraith Drained: -1 CON

Charles in Charge the Myrmidon (F6) 87256 <120000> +10% CRT 1d20/IV

Franz the Grave Return (Lawful; XXXX) Sword

Critical Wound: Punctured lung (-2 CON)

Mostly DEAD. (-1 CON)

Dolec Da the Hero (F7) 72515 xp +10% <120000> CRT 1d20/IV

Missing five teeth

Lester Flanders the Guardian of Oceana (P6) 49775 xp <95000> +5% CRT 1d16/IV

RESERVES

Elapsed Campaign Time

743b days at beginning of session (Boris & Friends just outside of Liwil)

761a (Bunny Group Newville) Busy until 779

724d (Ding-We Gang Lake of Abominations/ Liwil)

Join us for session Three-Hundred-and-Twenty-One when we ask the questions:

What just happened?

Those foaming long-armed giants were unusual weren’t they?

Is our crew rusty from their Winter retreat?

Who or what is the Master?

Tale of the Tape

We got to the precipice, lets keep pushing

KILLS

Gnolls (5)

Pteradons (3)

Black Wing Knights (3)

LOOT

50 pp

3003 gp

2000 sp

Wolf pelts (3) @ 5,000 gp each

Friday, 3 October 2025

Everyone Hates Felix (Session 319)

SESSION 319: CSI: Liwil (the one and only Felix show)

Felix is mixing with the locals in search of a murderer, hope he survives the experience

Day 722 (Liwil): Sometime in the possibly not so distant past...

It had taken some time but Felix had made it to Liwil after the slow trek through the deep snows. Before the whole Statue Garden thing Ding-We had directed our sleuth to head down to solve a murder that occurred in the shanty village outside the gates of the keep. By the time he arrived a second murdering had been conducted.

Not one to rush into things Felix set himself up in The Knight and Stone Tavern in the keep before heading to the mining camp. A good rest and a couple of hot meals would bring his investigating skills to the fore. That evening a third murder transpired. Felix was roused early in the morning by the guard. After getting the details he committed to commencing his investigation after breakfast – “A hungry mind is a feral mind”.

A few hours later he walked out the gate and into the shanty town. Following the 'rabble rabble rabble' he came to the back of a line of children.

A young girl was selling ‘poke the dead body with a stick’ for a very reasonable copper piece per poke. “Hmm what an enterprising young lass. She could be useful”, he mused.

“Get in line snoop we were here first!”

“YAAAA!!! We is poking!”

“Now now children I am the authority and must control the scene of this heinous crime”

“Boooo”

Felix eventually, after some bribing, got to the well frozen corpse. A miner woman with a well bashed in skull, the same modus operandi as the previous murders. Using his powers of deduction Felix ascertained that the murder had indeed occurred the previous evening, been conducted with the large bloody rock (just over there) and she had not been robbed (the gold nuggets in her pocket were now Felix’s evidence). Nothing else could be gleened from the scene. He would have to conduct interviews. Returning to the guard he inquired about the ‘people of note’ within the shanty town.

With some names of ‘folk of note’ Felix was off to do some interviews. First stop the healer (Cloe Lange) and then The Drinking Shack where he met the proprietor one-eyed-and-legged Cen Saard along with his son Con, whom was fully intact. It was on the quiet side but Felix spent some time speaking to Nea Wald a grizzled veteran miner and one of the first to arrive in the shanty town from Liwil. He gleened a deeper understanding of the miner community and observed those insidious kids pestering the local lumbering dolt Dod.

Nothing to bring him closer to the murderer but those kids definitely needed a purpose…

The interviews ate through the day and by early afternoon he decided to return to the keep for a nap and something other than 'crispy rat avec grease' for dinner. He planned to return to the shanty town to see who shows up at the bar that evening.

Rested and "properly" fed Felix returned to the Drinking Shack. The place was crowded, not that it was hard to do, it is a shack after all. Our investigator received his usual warm welcome upon announcing his presence – a look, a grumble and back to whatever they were doing. Also as per usual, Felix took no note and went about his things. Nea was still present and more than willing to bend any ear. A few drinks and a couple of rounds for the patrons and Felix found himself playing cards and getting open dialogue. The night stretched on as the drinks continued to be drained. A good night but no fresh information. Felix was now a bit ‘lit up’. It was time to make his way back to the keep while he could still walk.

"Tomorrow. Tomorrow. Tomorrow will have better results", speaking to the night sky as he staggered out of the Drinking Shack into the cold and starry evening.

Normally being intoxicated undermines one’s ability to process the details of their surroundings.

However, Felix is special with a big ‘S’.

He caught a shadow from the corner of his eye, at just the right time, as he bumbled through a quiet alleyway. He spun to his left as a large rock just missed mashing his melon in.

Turning he saw a hulking man with a mop (e.g. one of those mopey Ramones guys) haircut and a handle bar moustache.

“Who are you? Show yourself. Villian!”, exclaimed the investigator as he reached out into the shadows. His hand grabbed a handle bar that turned out to be only somewhat affixed allowing the offender to slip from grip.

It was a disguise! His other hand shot out and pulled at the mop-top. It slid off and dropped into the snow.

“Wait! You are the dolt - Dod!”.

The hulking man said nothing.

No longer the dumb-dumb it would seem as a mighty fist slammed into Felix’s solar plexus – Woof!

He now had the eyes of a heartless serial murderer.

The investigator raised his fists, “I was first class boxer in school you know”.

Blows were traded. Over and over again.

Never a word from Dod just a single-minded murderous focus.

Swings and dodges by both.

Over and over again.

The brute was skilled, very skilled.

But.

Felix really knew how to put up a defence and wait for an opening.

After many brutal minutes Dod lay unconscious in the snow.

Looking at the brute and then the large stone sharing the icy ground as a resting place Felix realized that the murders had been solved. He began yelling for the constabulary.

Guards showed up and after some direction they bound the hulk and dragged him off to a holding cell. Our investigator finally got around to finishing his stumble back to the inn.

The following day.

Dod would hang.

Before the folk of the mining camp whom jeered the lout and cheered Felix, which was a welcome change.

Dod did not concede to any prodding nor did he tell any secrets before stepping forth.

His body dropped and his neck snapped.

The people cheered and Felix had become a folk hero.

“Hmmm. I wonder if I should have interrogated him first? What if he was more than simply a monster…”.

A few days later.

Ding-We and company returned to Liwil.

“Sir, I have great news!”

“Don’t care dork I have other business”

Felix made his way back to the drinking shack flanked by reprobate children.

He had friends after all.

The F-Team: Felix… and maybe some children if we really stretch it.

ROLECALL

Felix Ignatius Hemlock the once skeletal Sleuth (I7) 47017 <80001> +5% CRT 1d16/II

RESERVES

Elapsed Campaign Time

743b days at beginning of session (Boris & Friends just outside of Liwil)

689a (Bunny Group Newville) Busy until 779

724d (Ding-We Gang Lake of Abominations/ Liwil)

Join us for session Three-Hundred-and-Twenty when we ask the questions:

Will Felix ever be in the limelight again?

A: Let us be honest. All measures will be taken to avoid such an occurrence.

What plans does Felix’s Fight Club for Kids really entail?

Who does Swifta also work for and are they a problem?

Tale of the Tape

KILLS

Huge Harold aka Dod the Assassin 1000

LOOT

A handful of gold nuggets

Saturday, 27 September 2025

Coming of the Dream Eater (Session 318)

SESSION 318: The Coming of the Dream Eater – The Dreaming Caldera Pt.1: Reluctant Heroes

The A-Team is called to step up once more and it took a little pushing to get them to be heroic, perhaps Newville complacency played a role.

Day 765 (Newville): Spring was fast approaching. Bimbles was counting down the final two or so weeks before they would depart this village populated by hand holding, singing and smiling weirdos.

This being when a curve ball was thrown.

A trio of Mountain Elves (whatever they are) showed up in town in desperate need of heroes. Something was eating dreams. A malevolent force that they had sourced to Mt. Embersnake. It was a massive volcano many days north, strangely unseen by a perpetual cloud bank a couple miles beyond the base of the monolithic extrusion. The elves had traced the rapidly spreading doom to the volcano through some sort of undefined mysticism, or some such similar thing. They had sent a party to address the dreaming bane, they never returned.

Now the elves needed outside help before the evil consumed all dreams.

Word of the heroes of Barrowmaze and newly anointed banishers of Orcus Claus were to be found in Newville. The Elves presented their petition and found the A-Team to be somewhat reticent in engaging the spreading doom…

Eventually the clerics capitulated to assisting if the elves brought them to the towering mountain in question. The elves were without alternatives and yielded. The following day our band set out into the late season snows. The first day through the semi-mountainous mixed forest was uneventful. However, as they camped on the second day they encountered, or were discovered, by the last of Winter’s ranging terrors.

A frost giant with a pack of winter wolves. They were a tricky and keenly intelligent lot managing the gang’s fortified camp. The wolves cautiously worked their way through the defences to attack the guard as the giant happily threw boulders from somewhere in the darkness. A little bit of tactical acumen caused a lot of headache. Boulders rained down as wolves circled and launched at confused hobo. Bimbles screamed to not damage the wolves as they were bitey bags of money. The fight raged until wolves began to fall and the giant was finally sighted. The forces of hobo got things done.

“Looks like we is gonna camp here gotta get some more fine furs”, Bimbles had enough walking for a couple of days and they all knew the value of a good winter wolf pelt. If only Steve was here to do the job properly…

The A-Team: Bunny, Carla, Bimbles, Saffron, Charles, Dolec Da, Nara & Lester

ROLECALL

Carla the Green High Priestess of TMB (C10) 358909 xp +10% <400001> CRT 1d12/III

Scars: permanent loss left index finger and scarring on arm

Bimbles the High Priest of GSS (C10) 323144 xp +5% <400001> CRT 1d12/III

+2 save to poison and internal body things; Double eat (gotta feed my baybay)

Bunny the Thief! (T10) 314754 xp <400001> +10% CRT 1d24/II

Light wound: permanent loss of pinky finger, off hand

The Henchmen

Saffron the Mad Fairy Queen of Ribbits (FY7) 199399 xp <200001> CRT 1d10/III

Moderate wound: Scar on abdomen

Lasting injury: -1 STR, mashed guts

Nara the Nearly Naked Purple Swami Girl (PS7) 113928 xp +5% <125000> CRT 1d16/II

Wraith Drained: -1 CON

Charles in Charge the Myrmidon (F6) 87256 <120000> +10% CRT 1d20/IV

Franz the Grave Return (Lawful; XXXX) Sword

Critical Wound: Punctured lung (-2 CON)

Mostly DEAD. (-1 CON)

Dolec Da the Hero (F7) 72515 xp +10% <120000> CRT 1d20/IV

Missing five teeth

Lester Flanders the Guardian of Oceana (P6) 49775 xp <95000> +5% CRT 1d16/IV

RESERVES

Elapsed Campaign Time

743b days at beginning of session (Boris & Friends just outside of Liwil)

759a (Bunny Group Newville) Busy until 779

724d (Ding-We Gang Lake of Abominations/ Liwil)

Join us for session Three-Hundred-and-Nineteen when we ask the questions:

What? What? What? (ya we is jumping all over the place).

Tale of the Tape

Nope.

KILLS

Frost Giant

Winter Wolves (6)

LOOT

13,000 gp

10,000 sp

Wolf pelts TBD

Monday, 22 September 2025

Gongfarming for Riches (Session 317)

SESSION 317: The Lost Crypt pt. XI – In Search of Moar Loot!

After a rest and some campfire hoagies our troop were convinced that another once over of the bugbear lair was due.

Day 283 (Dungeon): Finally they got a rest under their belts and a key in hand. They turned the chieftain’s quarter upside down finding nothing. It must be hidden somewhere…somewhere hidden by a foul creature…that does foul things…Ah ha! It must be in the shit hole! They stormed out of the chamber bound for the privy.

The small cave reeked of filth and dung.

Puddles of the disgusting stuff were everywhere.

Eyes scanned for the slightest sparkle in the sea excrement but nothing. Ding-We came up with a plan. He would launch a fireball into the mess to cook the vile mess and while it cooks and then cools they would double check the evil temple prior to digging through the privy.

Nothing was found in the temple but on the way back to the privy they ran afoul of the first of a trio of giant monitor lizards.

(Steve, like a gentleman, gracefully sizes up his opponent as his partner (Rhags) wallows in a steaming poop pile after being grounded by a tail whip)

Voracious, even though they must have eaten their way through the hordes of dead bugbears and minotaurs the hobos had left behind. The reptile was driven off back through the hole to the lower level, not to be seen again. Not knowing that two more were lurking the gang returned to the privy now just a steamy dung hole. Steve, whom wore a necklace of adaption and Rhags being a dwarf with super constitution were the lucky poop diggers. The second of the monitor lizards ambushed the two gongfarmers moments before the third attacked from the corridor from the chieftain’s quarter. The lizards packed both a wicked bite and tail smash, that kept knocking Rhags into the steaming poop. The rinse and repeat could only last for so long until the two nearly dinosaurs were brought low. Steve delayed his farm work to gut the two lizards, “Booo! Nothing but guts. Remove these useless things from my sight!”. Back to work. He found a chest and pulled it from the excrement. Rhags tried the key. It worked and so did the still active poison needle. The dwarf laughed it off as he gazed over the glittering contents. “We gots coin and lots of it and it ain’t copper and silver!”. It was a substantial load of gold and electrum. The extra time in this hole had paid off.

Now it was time to once more return to the surface.

Up the winding steps the climbed and opened the trap door. Once upon an age past a tower had sat here long since destroyed by the ravages of time and conflict forgotten. Now where the heck were we? Surrounded by a snow covered mixed forest resting upon rolling hills. Ugh. They could be anywhere in the Basilisk Hills or Lake of Abominations region. Ding-We recited arcane magiks and took to the air. Flying above the canopy he was greeted by a clear day and a significant line of sight.

It did not take long.

A giant green glowing dome could be seen.. over there, a number of miles. It was the naga's space vessel home base of evil endeavours. The hobos were not all that far from controlled lands. They had ended up five or so miles north east of the stone garden where this delve had started. The wizard returned to the earth and relayed his findings. Double time march back to the Stone Garden camp. No creature stirred, none had any interest in fighting through the mountainous snow drifts.

It took the rest of the day but they arrived just as the evening fire was being stoked by the guard.

They stayed over night and then another day to allow Mason to conduct an exorcism upon Biff. He was carrying cursed items. The sacrificial dagger and chalice from the tomb. Broken of possession Biff was back on target.

The curse was lifted.

He had a few curses for the wizard, paying him with very questionable goods.

The following day they made their way back to Liwil to meet up with Felix whom was supposed to be resolving the murder mystery in the mining camp.

The D-Team: Ding-We, Rhagnar, Steve, Chung-Li, Mason, Biff & BoB

ROLECALL

Hobo Steve the Lord (F10) 374812 xp +5% <480,001> CRT 1d30/V

Brain Damaged: reduced mental capacity (tough night on the town)

Rahgnar the Dwarven Superhero (D8) 276035 xp <280001> CRT 1d20/IV

Serious wound: permanent loss of an eye (-1 to missile fire)

Critical Wound: disembowelled less able to process poison (-1 penalty)

Missing thirteen teeth

Ding-We the Peg-Legged Wizard (W10) 558060 xp +10% <620001> CRT 1d10/I

Critical Wound: Left leg obliterated, runs at ½ rate (peg required)

The Henchmen

Biff Bartley the Half-Orc Bandit Lord (HO8) 123997 <MAX> +5% CRT 1d14/II

‘BOB’ the Deadly Shade (N7) 86194 <90000> +5% CRT 1d16/II

Mason the Lama of Yrrrg. (C7) 99327 <100001> CRT 1d10/III

Chung-Li the Myrmidon Warlock (E7) 137189 xp <250000> +10% CRT 1d8/II

RESERVES

Elapsed Campaign Time

743b days at beginning of session (Boris & Friends just outside of Liwil)

689a (Bunny Group Newville) Busy until 779

723d (Ding-We Gang Lake of Abominations/ Liwil)

Join us for session Three-Hundred-and-Eighteen when we ask the questions:

Hey why ain’t these the questions we is asking?

What does that even mean?

Tale of the Tape

-30-

KILLS

Giant monitor lizards (3) one escaped

LOOT

3572 gp

3900 ep

Thursday, 18 September 2025

Bugs in the Ointment (Session 316)

SESSION 316: The Lost Crypt pt. X – More Bugs in the Ointment

With few good options the good train MurderHobo pushed further into the lair

Day 282 Continued III (Dungeon): Fatigue has noticeably set in as our clowns delve deeper. Giant Steve had finished his excavation into the guts of the Behir exhuming a load of gems and jewelry. We must be reminded that when one becomes covered in guts and gore at a giant size when they revert to normal dimensions the gore volume does not change. Stevie was now a moving pile of goop. They did their best to dig him out and scrape the chunks off but they really needed Bimbles ever full jug to actually clean him up. They needed to hustle as the stink would be coming soon.

Back into the dungeon proper they went.

This would lead to the final battle with the bugbears.

Going down the branching corridor they came to another metal door. Beyond was the foul and evil temple of the bugbears. A large chamber covered in crude icons and symbols revering whatever demonic entity they deified. Across the chamber was a blood stained altar. It was in this area that the shaman and his acolytes hid awaiting the arrival of the hobos. The sneaky buggers launched a sneak attack and our gang noticed that they were within a sphere of silence. Simultaneously with the first strike one of the bugbears began bashing a large shield – the alarm had been sounded. Our mob were no worse for wear after the first salvo but another host of bugbears had showed up behind. It was the chief and his retinue.

If the bugbears had really known the potency of our frontline alone they probably would have abandoned their lair. Unfortunately for these despicable creatures they did not have full measure of their opponents and were about to be slaughtered after a few lucky blows.

After a quick bit of looting the gang backtracked and found their way to the final chamber of the lair. It was the chieftain’s now empty quarters. In the back was a winding stone stairwell that lead to a trap door and the surface – Huzzah! They were done.

The trapdoor was fortified along with the door to the chamber and the gang proceeded to ge ta much needed rest.