JollyDoc's Rise of the Runelords...Updated 12/22

[JollyDoc]

THISTLETOP

“This is…unbelievable…,” Mayor Kendra Deverin said as she sat open-mouthed, listening to Wesh’s tale of what he and his companions had stumbled upon in the catacombs beneath the Glassworks.
“I would say the same thing if I hadn’t seen it for myself,” the wizard nodded. “Nevertheless, the fact remains that this is still a potentially dangerous and volatile situation. I don’t think it would be wise to leave those tunnels unsecured.”
“I agree,” the mayor replied, “but how best to do that, that is the question.”
“I suggest collapsing the entrance altogether,” Wesh shrugged.
Mayor Deverin shook her head uncertainly. “I’m not sure that’s the best solution. If what you have described is true, then we are looking at a remarkable archaeological and historical find. Who knows what we may learn by studying it? At the very least, I’m sure the Pathfinder Society would be keenly interested.”
“Yes,” Wesh snorted, “I’m sure those overblown grave robbers would indeed. So what do you propose, Your Honor?”
The mayor sat back in her chair, and steepled her fingers. “We’ll wall up the entrance and post round-the-clock guards. That way we can maintain security and still have access at a later date if needed.”
Wesh sighed and rose from his chair. “I’m not sure I agree, but I have faith in your judgment.”
“And what of you and your comrades?” she asked.
“While I know that Sheriff Hemlock requested that we remain in town,” he replied, “circumstances have changed. We know, or have strong reason to believe, that Nualia Tobyn and her companions are with the goblins of Thistletop. I propose that our group make a preemptive strike against her, and perhaps we can derail her invasion plans before they ever get started. I think a small group such as ours has a better chance of infiltrating the tribe than a company of soldiers would.”
Mayor Deverin seemed to ponder this for several moments, and then she slowly nodded.
“I concur,” she said quietly, “though I’m fearful for you and your friends. You have become symbols for the townsfolk. Your loss would be a tragic blow to them.”
“Not to mention us,” Wesh smiled. “Don’t worry, Madame. If we see that we’re in over our heads, we’ll retreat. None of us wants to be a martyr…well, except perhaps for Luther.”
The mayor smiled wanly, then rose from behind her desk and extended her hand.
“Good luck, Master Baltar. My prayers go with you.”
Wesh nodded, then turned to go.
___________________________________________

“Father Luther, Brother Adso,” the lithe woman bowed slightly. “To what do I owe this honor?”
“We come bearing a gift,” Luther answered, “and to request your assistance.”
“My house is yours,” Sabyl Sorn replied. “You may avail yourselves of anything you need.”
The young monk was the custodian of the House of Blue Stones, a monastery established ten years after the founding of Sandpoint by her father, Enderaki. After his death seven years prior, if fell to Sabyl to maintain the large collection of old books and scrolls that her father had amassed over the years. It was the largest private library in Sandpoint, and normally those who wished access to it had to convince Sabyl of their good intentions. For Luther and Adso, both of whom paid homage to Sabyl’s patron, Irori, there was no question.
“We thank you,” the priest bowed, then withdrew from his robe the prayer book they had taken from Erylium’s catacombs. “You would do well to keep this in a safe place,” he warned. “It is a thing of evil, though its knowledge may assist those of us dedicated to combating such things.”
Sabyl took the book with a grave nod.
“Now, what is it you seek?” she asked.
Luther told her an abbreviated version of what they had found beneath the Glassworks, emphasizing the Thassilonian writings, the sinspawn and the strange glowing well.
“Well,” Sabyl said when Luther had finished, “I can tell you that ancient Thassilon was no myth. It was founded thousands of years ago by a wise king who sought to create a paradise of civilization within his own lifetime. Yet, like many visionaries, it would seem he was ultimately short-sighted. He entrusted his greatest advisors to oversee various aspects of his empire, yet they were not satisfied with this. Each sought greater individual power. These advisors became known as Runelords, and their constant warring against one another inevitably led to Thassilon’s ruin. It is said that the Runelords practiced magic based upon what are today considered to be the seven cardinal sins: wrath, greed, sloth, pride, lust, envy and gluttony. These sinspawn you describe…it is possible that these creatures were created as minions to serve the Runelords, each one associated with a particular sin.
“Which means there could be six more types of these creatures?” Adso asked.
Sabyl shrugged. “In theory.”
“Do you know anything of this well which seemed to spawn the creatures?” Luther asked.
Sabyl shook her head, “No, but my knowledge of these things is sketchy at best. As I said, you are more than welcome to use the library. Perhaps it will help you uncover some of the answers that you seek.”

 

[JollyDoc]

“Are you sure you know where you’re going?” Wesh asked, not for the first time since they’d set out from Sandpoint the following morning. They’d traveled some two hours along the Lost Coast Road and finally reached the Thistle River ford when Rico had them turn aside from the highway and head straight into the Nettlewood. Now the druid, crouched in front of a seemingly impenetrable wall of thorns and briars, turned an annoyed look at the wizard.
“Perhaps I haven’t quite explained the nature of my profession,” Rico snapped. “I’m…a…druid! You stick to your books and scrolls and let me handle the practical stuff, ok?”
Wesh rolled his eyes and mopped his brow with his handkerchief as he slapped with his other hand at the stinging insects which seemed intent on draining every ounce of blood from his body. The briars and thistles that grew so rampantly in the rest of the wood grew even more dense and tangled as the party had neared the coast. Although not quite dense enough to block the sound of waves crashing on the unseen shores to the west, the undergrowth was certainly thick enough to block sight and access to them. Few trees grew that close to the edge of the sea, but the briars themselves often reached heights to rival them. The wall in front of them was nearly twenty feet!
“Aha!” Rico said triumphantly as he stood up. He reached both hands into the briars in front of him, not suffering the slightest nick from the inch-ling thorns, and then pulled. To the shock of his companions, a whole section of the briar wall came free, almost like a hidden door. Beyond it, a four-foot high tunnel wound through the dense nettles, the floor of which was hard-packed earth with patches of wiry plants growing stubbornly here and there.
“Goblin warrens,” the druid explained. “It’s going to be a tight fit, but it seems we’re on the right path.”

Single-file, the seven companions began crab-walking along the low tunnel, cursing and muttering to themselves as clothing or skin snagged on the ubiquitous thorns. Only Rico and Garm seemed to have no problem navigating the passage. The druid seemed almost content, humming a tuneless song to himself. After a couple of dozen yards, the tunnel opened up into a large cave-like chamber. Above, the thorny canopy grew thin enough that tiny slivers of the sky could be seen, while below, the ground consisted of trampled dirt. To the west, the distant sound of sloshing waves echoed up from a hole. Rico immediately went to the hole and knelt beside it, brushing his fingers across the dirt at its lip.
“What is it?” Wesh asked.
“I think there’s some sort of sea cave beneath here,” the druid answered, “and I think the goblins use it to execute their own kind. There are fingernail marks here, small ones, and there’s blood as well. Some of it’s relatively fresh.”
“Well, if they’re killing each other off,” Dex said, “then that just makes our job easier.”
“Our job,” Luther interrupted, “is not wholesale slaughter. We’re here to prevent further loss of life, not perpetuate it.”
Dexter shrugged. “Six of one, half-dozen of another. If goblins need to die so that humans can live, and I get a steady paycheck to boot, suits us fine, right Skudder?”
The half-orc gave his customary grunt of agreement…or indifference…if was difficult to distinguish.
“In any case,” Rico continued, standing and dusting off his hands, “there’ve been a lot of goblins through here recently. Tracks go all different directions. Whether we choose east,” he gestured to a tunnel exiting the right side of the cave, “or west,” he indicated the opposite side, “we’re bound to run into some. Both choices have seen equal traffic. I can’t say which one might lead out of this warren.”
“Like my old man used to tell me,” Dex said, “evil always lies to the left. Lead on Skud!”

Skud did indeed take the lead again, Adso and Randall behind him. Crouching once more, they continued through the maze-like tunnels. The light was dim, and the constant switchbacks of the passage made it impossible to see what lay ahead. Thus, when Skud abruptly stood up to his full height and came to a sudden stop, Adso was caught off guard and walked right into the barbarian.
“Clumsy oaf!” the monk snapped. “What are you stopping for?”
He pushed past Skud and found a wide, low-ceilinged chamber that stank of smoke. A shallow fire pit smoldered in the center of the floor, while tangled reed and leaf nests lined the walls. However, Adso was sure it was not the décor that had brought his fellow half-breed up short, but rather the twenty pairs of beady eyes that stared back at them out of the gloom. Goblins…a lot of them. Before the stunned monk could open his mouth to warn the others, Skud’s sword slid free of its sheath and the burly warrior simply waded in. Adso curse roundly, then shouted over his shoulder, “We’ve got company!” He signed himself with Irori’s sigil and followed the barbarian.

Chaos exploded like a kicked over ant hill. One moment the goblins simply stared, seemingly as shocked to see the longshanks as the intruders were to see them. The next, they swarmed like rats. In the space between seconds, Adso and Skud were completely surrounded, with more of the vermin surging past them towards their companions still trapped in the cramped tunnel. Skud began laying about him with his sword, and wherever he struck, a goblin screamed in mortal agony, but he couldn’t swing fast enough to keep the horde back. Then, as he raised his sword for another blow, several of the little beasts seized his arm and drug it down, wrenching the blade from his grasp. He stood alone in their midst, unarmed. Adso struggled to reach him, snapping small, goblin bones with stunning blows from his hands and feet, yet finding only more goblins filled the gaps left by those who fell.

Randall was caught totally flat-footed when the goblins came screaming out of the darkness towards him. He tried to draw his weapon, but his elbow smashed into the low ceiling. Then they were upon him, hacking and slashing with their dogslicers, shrieking in their high-pitched voices. He went to one knee, their weight bearing him down. He knew that if he went prone, it would be all over for him. Suddenly, bright light pierced the shadows as streaking bolts of fire filled the air. Goblins went flying as they were struck by the missiles, and Randall found himself momentarily clear. Pulling his hammer free, he braced himself against the wall of the tunnel and rammed the head of the maul in front of him, crushing in the chest of an oncoming goblin. He knew he’d owe Wesh big for that one, and he knew as well that the wizard would never let him forget it.

Adso watched in horror as Skud sank beneath the mass of goblin bodies. Snarling in rage, the savagery of his orcish blood barely held in check, the monk seized a goblin by the throat and smashed its head into the briars. His hands were a blur as he blocked and countered quicker than the eye could follow. Still, he made no progress. Then, an ear-splitting roar filled the air, and he saw goblins flung in all directions as Skud heaved himself to his feet, sword once again firmly in hand. The barbarian was bleeding freely from multiple wounds, but he seemed to feel no pain. His own blood began to mingle with that of his victims as he cut a swath through the enemies surrounding him.

“They can’t hold out up there alone!” Luther cried.
“I’m doing what I can!” Wesh spat, blue fire sizzling from his outstretched hands. “Dexter! Can you get a shot?”
The archer cursed. “No! Too many bodies up there! I can’t tell who I’m shooting at!”
“There’re too many of them!” Luther shouted. “I have to help Skud and Adso!”
“Wait!” Wesh yelled. “If you’re planning on doing what I think you are, won’t it hit the goblins as well?”
“It can’t be helped!” Luther countered. “Irori’s will be done!”
The priest clasped the amulet around his neck tightly and golden light spilled thru his fingers. A wave of power channeled through him, washing over both friends and foes, healing the wounds of all indiscriminately.
Wesh spat and cursed. “Rico! If you’ve got any tricks up your sleeve, druid, now would be the time!”
When he turned to look for the druid, however, Rico was nowhere in sight.

The tide had slowed somewhat, but Adso and Skud still found themselves bogged down in goblin bodies, and Randall still could not free himself from the close confines of the tunnel. Suddenly, Adso heard a scream from behind him. When he turned, he saw a goblin get pulled bodily into the wall of thorns, followed a moment layer by a large spray of blood. Before his disbelieving eyes, Rico simply stepped out of the wall. He bore no weapon, but his hands had transformed into the savage claws of some sort of beast. A feral gleam in his eyes, he lashed out at the nearby goblins, ripping out throats or disemboweling seemingly at will. In that moment, the goblins’ resolve broke. They began to scatter, but it was too late. Randall, finally with room to maneuver, fought his way to Skud and stood back-to-back with the half-orc. With the tunnel clear, Dexter dashed into the chamber as well, his rapier in hand, and with Garm hot on his heels. It still took several minutes, but the outcome of the battle had already been decided. When it was done, not a single goblin stood, and the seven companions, though battered and bloodied, where all still among the living.

“Is that it then?” Dex asked, his breath still coming in ragged gasps. “Was that the whole tribe? What about this Nualia woman? Where is she?”
“Don’t get your hopes up,” Rico replied. He knelt beside one of the goblins. “These are not even Thistletop goblins. They look like members of various tribes. Plus, look at this place. Even for goblins these quarters are cramped and squalid. No, if I were to hazard a guess, I’d say this group was comprised of refugees. Goblins don’t tend to be very humanitarian. I wouldn’t doubt that this group had originally been significantly larger, but several of them probably wound up in that pit we saw. In any event, the intelligence I’ve received on the Thistletop tribe was that they laired on an island off the coast. This warren is most likely a defensive measure. We’ve still got the entire Thistletop band ahead of us. This was just a welcoming committee.”

 

[JollyDoc]

There was no exit from the refugee cave, so the companions were forced to backtrack to the chamber where they had found the sea cave hole. From there, the small tunnel branching east was their only option. This time Dexter took point, being somewhat subtler in his approach than Skud. No sooner had he rounded the first turn in the constricting tunnel, however, than he was brought up short. Ahead, the tunnel widened, though the ceiling of thorns above remained low. Filling the passage was a snarling pack of the mangy, disease-ridden goblin dogs Dex had first encountered during the Sandpoint raid. Their eyes gleamed in the semi-dark, and their lips peeled away from their ragged, yellow teeth. Their naked, rat-like tails twitched in anticipation of the kill. Slowly, they began to advance. Dex quickly began to crab-walk backwards, sliding his rapier from its sheath as he went. The others had remained in the small chamber behind, waiting for him to signal them forward. As they saw him reemerge from the tunnel, all of them tensed.

“What is it?” Wesh asked, but then he heard the low growls and snarls of the approaching pack. Suddenly, before Dex realized what was happening, Luther shoved him roughly aside and blocked the tunnel with his own body.
“Get ready!” the priest shouted to his allies. “I won’t be able to hold them for long!”
“Ware!” Rico abruptly shouted, and in that moment the attention of the heroes was divided. To the east, Luther stood alone before the advancing pack, while to the south, Rico stared at a spot on the wall of briars, Garm snarling and bristling at his feet. Suddenly, something moved furtively within the briars, a small, skulking figure. It spoke, but the words were in a language none of them were familiar with…none except Rico. The words were in the secret language of the druids, and he knew what they portended.
“Get back!” he shouted, but it was too late. The vines and brambles that comprised the walls and ceiling of the room began to writhe. Tendrils shot out from all directions, wrapping around the feet and legs of the companions. Several jerked free before the plants could completely entangle them, but others were rooted to the spot, including Wesh and Luther. At that moment, the goblin dogs attacked.

Though most people who encountered Skud immediately assumed him to be dimwitted, the hulking barbarian’s mind worked just fine when it came to killing and self-preservation. He judged the situation in an instant, and he knew Luther would be dead in a matter of seconds. Like a charging bull, he slammed into the priest, ripping him free from the grasping vines and hurling him into the nearby wall. In the process, though Luther would not realize it until he had time to reflect, the half-orc no doubt saved his life, interposing his own bulk before the goblin dogs. The cramped quarters did not allow Skud to bring his greatsword fully to bear, but a vicious jab stopped the first of the curs in its tracks, and its pack mates instinctively fell upon it in a feeding frenzy.

Meanwhile, Adso and Randall were in motion as well, rushing towards the place where they saw the figure crouching. Ignoring the sharp thorns which tore at his flesh, Adso reached into the briars and felt his fist connect solidly with flesh. A high-pitched yelp and a sharp bite to the hand confirmed the fact the he had guessed rightly about the location of their hidden enemy. Randall, following the monk’s lead, brought his hammer crashing down into briar wall, and the creature screamed in pain and began hustling back deeper into the foliage. Just before it vanished from sight, however, Wesh, though still struggling with the vines, sent a barrage of streaking missiles after it. Then, before anyone could stop him, Rico disappeared into the brambles in pursuit.

Skud had only a moment to catch his breath before the rabid pack remembered their true prey and rushed forward en masse. The barbarian struck again, felling another of the beasts before the rest were upon him. Snarling and howling, Skud flung the beasts from him, but no sooner did they hit the ground than they sprang again. Then, a long, low howl filled the air and the savage dogs paused, heads turning and ears lifting. A shaggy, gray blur hurtled through the air towards them as Garm bowled into the mass. He landed atop one of the dogs and savagely ripped its throat out. Though he momentarily surprised the vermin dogs, they were quick to respond, ripping and mauling at the wolf with abandon. In seconds, Garm was buried beneath a mass of yapping bodies.
“Noooo!” The cry was not Rico’s, for the druid was nowhere to be seen. Instead Skud, a look of anguish on his face, lunged into the dog pile, hurling bodies left and right. When he caught a glimpse of Garm’s fur, he reached in, ignoring the numerous bites he suffered and grabbed the wolf, lifting him clear of the pile.
“Help him!” he bellowed, tossing Garm towards Luther. Then, using both blade and his ham-sized fist, he waded into the fray once more.

As Luther bent to tend to the dying wolf, Adso and Randall rushed to Skud’s aid. The ex-soldier stood shoulder-to-shoulder with the half-orc, while the monk took a running dive, clearing the melee and rolling to his feet on the far side. He turned, ready to attack the dogs from the rear, when he heard a low, coughing growl from behind him. Turning his head, he saw two figures emerge from the gloom of the tunnel. The first was a great cat, like a cougar, except its pelt was deep red with black stripes. Behind the animal stood a goblin. He was dressed in worn leathers and wore a headdress and necklace of fetishes. At first, Adso thought he held a torch in his right hand, but when he looked closer he saw that it appeared to be a sword made entirely of fire. It was the druid. The wizened creature gestured sharply and the cougar leapt into motion, its claws churning up clods of dirt as it accelerated towards the monk. While it was still several yards away, it launched itself into the air, hurtling into Adso with its full weight, its claws ripping and raking at his flesh. The half-orc rolled with the impact, allowing the cat’s momentum to carry them both to the ground. As he hit, he gathered his feet to his chest and thrust upward, kicking the cougar over his head. It landed gracefully and turned to charge again, but by that time, Adso to was on his feet, pelting down the cramped tunnel on all-fours towards the druid. The creature barked something in its native tongue, and a pair of the goblin dogs broke from the main pack, pursuing Adso, the cougar leading them. As the monk reached the goblin, he planted his hands on the ground, swinging his legs around in a circle in front of him, sweeping the druid from his feet. Before he could follow-up on his attack, however, the dogs were on him. One bit deeply into his shoulder, and as it did so a cloud of dander from its mangy hide filled the air around his face. He coughed and sneezed violently, then began scratching madly at his skin where it had broken out in an angry red rash. Above him, the goblin druid climbed to his feet, drew back his fiery blade and thrust it deep into Adso’s belly.

Skud and Randall fought like a well-oiled machine. The half-orc’s brutality, coupled with the warrior’s precision made them a viciously effective killing team. One after another, the dogs fell beneath sword and hammer, and gradually the pair pushed forward, driving the curs back into the tunnel. Dexter came behind them, having abandoned his rapier for his bow once more. Once inside the passage, he saw Adso’s plight. Drawing his string to his ear, he let fly one of his deadly shafts, catching the cougar in the flank as it leaped again. Yowling and spitting it hit the floor well short of the monk, biting and tearing at the arrow protruding from its leg. Still, Adso was surrounded, and sorely wounded. The two dogs continued to snap and bite at him, as the goblin raised his blade to strike again. Suddenly, a large shape erupted from the briars behind the goblin. It was Rico, his hands once more transformed into those of some wild beast, both of them wreathed in fire. He cursed the goblin in the Druidic tongue and the creature hissed as he realized he faced one of his own. Charging at Rico, the little druid slashed with his flaming blade, driving the larger druid back. Both of them vanished into the briars once more.

Skud and Randall continued to hew through the goblin dogs, until finally they cut their way clear to Adso only to find the cougar crouched over the bleeding monk. Its ears back, it spat at the pair, its claws resting on Adso’s throat. Suddenly, something whickered past Skud’s head, and he drew back reflexively. When he turned back again, he saw the cougar slumped across Adso, one of Dex’s shafts through its throat. Adso moaned weakly, dragging himself from beneath the big cat’s weight. In an instant, Luther was by his side, holding his hands over the monk’s hideous wound and murmuring a prayer. Luther’s hands glowed and the blood flow stopped, the cauterized hole slowly shrinking closed. For a moment, the area was strangely quiet. All of the goblin dogs were dead or dying, but the two druids were nowhere to be found. Then, from the briars several yards further down the tunnel, the pair exploded, locked in mortal combat. The goblin slashed violently with his blade while Rico fought back with equal ferocity, his fire-shrouded claws matching the goblin blow for blow. Yet even from that distance, Luther could see that his comrade was overmatched. Apparently his companions knew it too, for Skud, Randall and Dex quickly started down the tunnel. Before Luther could stop him, Adso was on his feet as well, giving chase.

Rico saw his friends coming and knew that he just had to hold the goblin off a moment longer, but at that moment, his opponent saw the oncoming longshanks as well. Breaking off the attack, the goblin druid turned and fled up the tunnel. In the distance, Rico could just make out an opening and sunlight beyond. Shouting for his companions to follow, he began to run. Unhindered by the briars, he quickly gained ground on his quarry, and broke free of the nettles only a few paces behind the goblin. He found himself on a high cliff overlooking the sea. A rope bridge spanned the gulf between the ledge and a roundish, flat-topped island to the north. Thick patches of nettles and briars grew atop the island, but its most impressive feature was a wooden one-story stockade. Two tall watchtowers guarded the fort’s southern façade. The rope bridge itself was made of hairy rope and thick wooden planks. The whole thing creaked and swayed in the wind above the churning surf below. On the far side of the bridge, Rico could see eight goblins mounted on goblin dogs patrolling the open area before the stockade. When they saw pursuer and pursued exit the briar warren, they began to scream and hoot hysterically, motioning their shaman towards them. Rico put on a last burst of speed, and skidded to a halt in front of the bridge, blocking the goblin’s way. Snarling, the vile creature swung its fiery sword, opening a vicious wound across Rico’s belly. His vision swam and darkness threatened to engulf him. He felt the ground rush up to meet him. The little goblin danced triumphantly around him, and then started for the bridge. At that moment, however, both Adso and Skud exited the tunnel, and when Adso saw the druid’s imminent escape, he sprang. As his feet left the ground, however, he felt one of them catch on something. Glancing down, he saw Skud’s boot. The barbarian had intentionally tripped him! As he tried to regain his balance, he slammed into the goblin druid from behind. The creature shrieked as he was shoved off the edge of the cliff, his arms pinwheeling helplessly as he plummeted towards the churning sea and the rocks below.
Adso looked up at Skud, spitting dirt out of his mouth.
“That for calling Skud oaf,” the barbarian said calmly, folding his arms across his chest.

 

[Cerulean_Wings]

That was an intense fight! Who'd known that goblin dogs + goblin shaman would be so devastating?

Say, JollyDoc, assuming you're the DM in the game, was the encounter ran like the module decrees or was it modified?

Skud's last words are hilarious

 

[JollyDoc]

That was an intense fight! Who'd known that goblin dogs + goblin shaman would be so devastating?

Say, JollyDoc, assuming you're the DM in the game, was the encounter ran like the module decrees or was it modified?

Skud's last words are hilarious

The fight was pretty much along the lines outlined in the module, except I doubled the number of goblin dogs present (8 instead of 4) to account for the larger number of PC's. The druid used tactics described in the adventure, especially the free movement through the briars. Of course, the players had a druid as well. How often does a druid PC get to shine, after all?

Oh, btw, at the table, that last attack by Adso was the result of a "Critical Fumble" on the monk's part, using the Critical Fumble Deck from Game Mastery. I believe the result was something like, "your attack still hits, but you end up prone at your target's feet." Dumb, blind luck if you ask me!

 

[Neverwinter Knight]

Wait a minute - a JollyDoc story hour that I'm not reading? There's no such thing!

Now that I'm caught up: Great stuff, JollyDoc! Interesting characters all of them. Luther seems the only innocent among them. Kind of reminds me of an early Daelric.

Looking forward to more, of course. Even though you've simplified the rules, I bet it won't take the group long to minmax the new environment to their favor. Poor bad guys.

PS: Regarding the comments about the group's loss of two of the three adventure paths: If JollyDoc hadn't pimped Kyuss as agreed upon with the group before the final match, we all know how fast and anticlimatic Age of Worms would have ended. Adimarchus was a little over the top, I'll give you that.

 

[JollyDoc]

Wait a minute - a JollyDoc story hour that I'm not reading? There's no such thing!

I was wondering where you were, young man!! What kept you?

SUNDAY NIGHT TEASER

The assault on Thistletop continues, but the goblins prove a bit more wiley than the heroes gave them credit for...

1) A "shoulda seen it comin' but didn't" trap proves troublesome

2) One of the PeaceMakers suffers a tragic loss, while another nearly loses his life in a selfless act of heroism...

3) Occasionally, even the lowliest of goblin's get lucky, and one of our heroes is permanently maimed when he finds himself on the receiving end of some goblin smack down...

4) A new ally is gained, and it only takes one ruptured spleen to gain his confidence...

 

[Supar]

a note from our table I have never seen so many nat 20s and nat 1s at our table in my 3years playing with the JD company. The instant everyone agreed to join the crit/fumble deck it seems every encounter there has to be 1 of each at least sometimes 3 or 4.

JD what devil did u make a pact with!?

 

[JollyDoc]

a note from our table I have never seen so many nat 20s and nat 1s at our table in my 3years playing with the JD company. The instant everyone agreed to join the crit/fumble deck it seems every encounter there has to be 1 of each at least sometimes 3 or 4.

JD what devil did u make a pact with!?

It was Critmodeus, the Arch-duke of Wup Ass...

 

[Neverwinter Knight]

I was wondering where you were, young man!! What kept you?

Well, my new employer blocks enworld and I'm abroad a lot. That and the European Football Championship is on (the real football, that you call soccor for some reason ).

Critmodeus? Sounds a hell of a lot more dangerous than Demogorgon. You sure it's not a nickname for Tower Cleaver?