The Lost Boys vs The Sunless Citadel

Richard Rawen

First Post
Loving it, as always. Been a bit distracted of late, but seriously enjoying the action. Your experiences with the younger generation are inspiring, rather impressive to me as... I've not the patience :( [sblock=hijack] sblocked because it rambled and I didn't want to thread-hijack :)
My kids did play when they were younger, more for curiosity sake than anything I believe. We were all a bit younger, by 10 years, and I ran "Horror on the Hill", a classic in my book.

All went smoothly until they routed a small camp of goblins and hobgoblins. That went well actually with the exception of a survivor... the one that got away. So the somewhat banged up group decides that they should leave the area, and head up a nearby hill.
And gather a large bonfire's worth of wood.
And light it... I'm sad to say I did mention that the night air was a bit chill.
The idea of the bonfire appealed to them on some youthful-pyromania level I suppose... so much so that the increasingly blatant warnings by INT and WIS rolls, and finally a gift from the DM - 'that's a big fire up here on the hill.'
It's all met with bad rolls, worse interpretation of warnings and finally a complete ignoring of that idiotic Dad of theirs, of course it's a big fire, that's the point!

So the goblish army crept up the hill, and . . . well lets just say that if you ask any of them about camp-fires they will quickly either change the subject or demand that you not do so on a hill. :) [/sblock]Looking forward to the conclusion, Merry Christmas!

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Richard Rawen said:
Loving it, as always. Been a bit distracted of late, but seriously enjoying the action. Your experiences with the younger generation are inspiring, rather impressive to me as... I've not the patience :( [sblock=hijack] sblocked because it rambled and I didn't want to thread-hijack :)
My kids did play when they were younger, more for curiosity sake than anything I believe. We were all a bit younger, by 10 years, and I ran "Horror on the Hill", a classic in my book.

All went smoothly until they routed a small camp of goblins and hobgoblins. That went well actually with the exception of a survivor... the one that got away. So the somewhat banged up group decides that they should leave the area, and head up a nearby hill.
And gather a large bonfire's worth of wood.
And light it... I'm sad to say I did mention that the night air was a bit chill.
The idea of the bonfire appealed to them on some youthful-pyromania level I suppose... so much so that the increasingly blatant warnings by INT and WIS rolls, and finally a gift from the DM - 'that's a big fire up here on the hill.'
It's all met with bad rolls, worse interpretation of warnings and finally a complete ignoring of that idiotic Dad of theirs, of course it's a big fire, that's the point!

So the goblish army crept up the hill, and . . . well lets just say that if you ask any of them about camp-fires they will quickly either change the subject or demand that you not do so on a hill. :) [/sblock]Looking forward to the conclusion, Merry Christmas!

My lot do the same sort of thing, then roll half-a-dozen naturals and clear the decks, before asking what's for afters.

And so we press on to the climax...

Turn 7.4: Bert’s bad.

“Bert don’t fail me now.” Saradomin whispers.

The Bugbear is less than ten feet away from him as he brings his crossbow up to aim.

The towering creature increases its pace; it’s only a few feet away when…


Saradomin’s crossbow bolt smashes into its forehead, about half the length of the bolt juts from the creature’s skull, the rest… well.

The Bugbear stands there, swaying slightly, drops its scythe, smiles, scratch that- grins, claps its hands together in glee, and then capers a little.

Aleso stops his stumbling, straightens up- having spotted an enemy he feels he can deal with, he clanks towards the lumbering Goblinoid who has clearly lost all sense of occasion.

The Paladin spots something en route; turns back to stare at the now open doorway, emerging from the chamber are a knot of Skeletons, actually three of them.

“The Aleso.” Aleso shrieks and scampers off, leaving Saradomin on his own.

The Priest of St. Cuthbert tuts, places his crossbow on the floor, and unleashes his heavy mace.


The Bugbear ceases its little dance and takes to lying very still on the floor and bleeding profusely.

Which brings the Skeletons into view.

The three bonies clack towards Saradomin armed with swords and axes, they clearly mean business.

DMs Interlude, you’ll remember I keep referring back to Initiative rolls, in previous combat sections, well for the record- the initiative roll for the Skeletons was, adjusted- after all Skeletons have +5 Initiative, to… 6. Can anyone see a pattern forming yet?

“I don’t know.” Saradomin shakes his head, while tucking away his mace and reaching for his Holy Symbol.

“Bert, and I hope you can hear me,
Send down your holy aura,
And spread these Skeletons around like Flora.”


A bright white light engulfs the three Skeletons, it lasts for but the blink of an eye, then the Undead liberally redistribute themselves around the area- smashed to splinters of bone.

Saradomin waits a while.

Aleso stops running, heads back to the battlefield, sheepish.

Just in time to take in the show.

“Who’s bad?
Bert’s bad.
I said who’s bad?
Bert’s bad.”

Saradomin moonwalks and struts while repeating his little rhyme.

Mostly in Aleso’s face.

The Paladin looks unamused, then amazed, and then unamused again; eventually amazement gets the better of him.

“That was…” He begins.

Saradomin finishes his little dance by wetting his finger in his mouth, and then applying said finger to his wiggling backside.


Is the sound he makes.

Saradomin’s backside ceases wiggling, still pointing in Aleso’s direction.

“I’m bad.” Saradomin concludes. Then adds, “let’s go help the others.”

And rushes off.

Aleso, and a gurning Bernard, follow after.

“Yessth Marthter.”

The three-some stumble into the eastern chamber.

When we left the fracas Dartamor was hauling in the corpse of the Goblin he had killed with his lasso- reason unknown, Grand Alf was having an electric fit on the floor- ostensibly doing the worst ever rendition of a dying swan, and Jerky was being menaced by two Goblins and a Bugbear.

Well things have changed somewhat.

Grand Alf is puffed out, his floorshow now comes in fits and starts, between hacking coughing fits and bouts of heavy breathing, this dying malarkey will be the death of him.

Jerky has a broken arm.

It’s the one hanging by his side- useless.

On the positive side he is still being menaced by two Goblins, and an arm-breaking, Bugbear.

So that’s ok then.

However Dartamor is now in action, like a mad shot-putter he spins around with the Goblin corpse whirling out in front of him, like some lunatic carousel.

“Hang on, I’ll…”

Dartamor begins.


Jerky gets lucky, one of the Goblins menacing him over-reaches and the Gnome brains him, the Goblin flops to the floor unmoving.

The Bugbear however is having none of it, it strides forward, shoves the last of the Goblins aside, towers over Jerky, raises his shovel high- about to flatten the Gnome.


When the huge Goblinoid is struck in the face by a whirling Goblin- I wonder where that came from?

The Bugbear drops its weapon and stumbles hard right, clearly disorientated, blood gushes from its broken nose, it also seems to have lost some teeth in the collision.

It trips and sprawls, lies still for a moment before Aleso and Saradomin- who share a look.

“Surren…” Is all that Aleso manages.

Saradomin shrugs and then smashes his heavy mace down on the Bugbear which is attempting to get back up.

The things skull is caved in- dead.

“Uz gi’ i’.”

In translation-

“Me give in.”

The remaining Goblin flings away its shortsword and abases itself before Jerky.

“That’s a bit more like it.”

Grand Alf is up and over to the creature, a miracle cure, he shoves Jerky aside so that the Goblin is sprawled before him.

“Your mine now.”

Grand Alf states, and grins down at the Goblin, who has no idea what the Sorcerer is saying.

“Uz tell theur everythin’. Uz gran' Goblin. Uz nem is ‘Alan.”

In translation-

“Me tell you everything. Me good Goblin. My name is ‘Alan.’”
“You’d better be a good Goblin or I’ll set him on you.”

Grand Alf points at Saradomin, who smacks the head of his mace hard into his open palm, then straight away wishes he hadn’t.

“Now tell us everything.” Grand Alf finishes.

The Priest of St. Cuthbert turns away to suck and blow his hand- it stings; there are tears in his eyes.

Dartamor is on the scene, puts his foot on the Goblin presses him down into the dirt and fungi, the Rogue grabs and ties the creature’s hands behind its back.

Hog-tied the Goblin is levered into a sitting position, the interrogation begins in earnest.

“Ask him if he wants to be my servant?” Grand Alf barks at Dartamor.
“Ask him if there’s a toilet near by?” Aleso states, while hoping from foot to foot.
“Ask him if he’s ever heard of St. Cuthbert and his marvellous works?” Saradomin states and bends down to the Goblin, the Priest has a pamphlet in hand, the title reads in bold, ‘St. Cuthbert- Wine, Women & Strong”, it looks to be hand-written.
“Ask him why we bother?” Jerky mooches off back out of the chamber, “I’ll stand out here shall I? On guard. Shout if you need me… Not that you will… I don’t know, call yourself adventurers…” He mumbles on.

“Wheear are t' Adventurers?” Dartamor enquires.

In translation-

“Where are the Adventurers?”

The Goblin brightens up, at last something he can understand, “Wi' t' Ahtcast, int' Twileight Grove.”

In translation-

“With the Outcast, in the Twilight Grove.”

The Goblin nods vigorously, “Can ah nip on naw?”

In translation-

“Can I go now?”

Dartamor translates.

“The ‘Twilight Grove’, that sounds nice.” Grand Alf states.
The Goblin shrugs uncomprehending.

“Ask him if he wants to be my servant?” Grand Alf barks again at Dartamor.
“Ahem… toilet?” Aleso whines.
“St. Cuthbert offers the one true path to enlightenment?” Saradomin proffers the pamphlet again; the Goblin indicates he has no hands to spare. “Ah, I see.” Saradomin finds two stones to hold the pamphlet open on the floor before the Goblin, so that the creature can read the wise words contained within, a foolproof plan, except for the fact that the Goblin does not understand the Common tongue, and he can’t read, not even Goblin. The Goblin nods vigorously, seemingly enjoying the tale.
“Scratch that- ask him why I bother?” Jerky pops his head around the door, only for a moment, and then disappears back out of sight.

“Adventurers…Ha. I said, ‘Ha.’ Bunch of mad men more like.” The Gnome mutters on whilst standing guard outside the chamber.

The Lost Boys are not offended by Jerky’s comment however, having unanimously, and individually, previously taken the decision to ignore anything the Gnome says.

DMs Interlude- at least that’s what it feels like to me.

“What’s defendin 'em? Int' Grove?” Dartamor asks.

In translation-

“What’s defending them? In the Grove?”

“Chief Durnn. 'N Priestess. ‘N um Goblins.” The Goblin nods, vigorously- of course, and grins, a helpful little Goblin.

In translation-

“Chief Durnn. And Priestess. And some Goblins.”

“Wha' else is theear?” Dartamor continues.

In translation-

“What else is there?”

“Look will you just ask him if he wants to be my servant, the pay’s lousy, as are the conditions, but I will teach him mighty magics, like how to make tea, and toast and sandwiches. Ask him- go on. Have you asked him?” Grand Alf nudges the Rogue, tugs at his shoulder.
“I’ve asked him, he’s said no, he’s a little busy- tied up, Grand Alf; he appreciates the offer and all that, don’t you?”
Dartamor nods at the Goblin, the Goblin nods back, only with more vigour.
“But alas he has to decline, don’t you?”
Daratamor nods at the Goblin, who… guess?
“Tell him that’s a shame. A SHAME.” Grand Alf leers over the Goblin screaming in the creature’s face, then grins.
The Sorcerer pats the creature on the back of its head, wipes his hand and then wanders off, “a real shame.”

“Toy-aaaaaaaarrrrr-let?” Aleso clutches his unmentionable area.
“Nope.” Dartamor states.
“The nearest toilet is some distance away, and is out of order, isn’t it”
Dartamor nods at the Goblin, who parrots the manoeuvre.
“He says it is also out of soap, and the towels are dirty.”
The Paladin nods, his face a rictus grin, then suddenly he smiles, lifts his left leg off the floor and half-limps, half-hops away, shaking the offending leg en route.
“No matter.” He calls back.

“St. Cuthbert?” Saradomin grins at the Goblin, holds out a bottle of rotgut Goblin ale, the one he stole previously, he nods at the Goblin and shakes the bottle, the Goblin nods back- vigorously.

“PRAISE BE… FOR I HAVE SAVED HIS SOUL.” Saradomin jerks the Goblin to its feet, slaps the creature on its back, almost flattening it again, and then with a wink shoves the neck of the bottle into the Goblins mouth and upends it for a second.

The Goblin is soon glassy eyed and grinning.

And nodding, vigorously.

“Sent Guth-Butt.”

The Goblin nods and grins some more.

“Release him Dartamor, he has seen the fight- St. Cuthbert has blessed him, he shall join our holy alliance in our struggle against the dark forces of tyranny that seek to bring wan grass and scratchy stick insects to bear on the world of enlightenment.”

Dartamor’s jaw hits the floor.

The Priest of St. Cuthbert continues, shaking the Goblin’s shoulders to emphasise his points.

“St. Guth Butt is inside you young lad, inside here”, Saradomin taps the spot on the Goblin normally reserved for the liver; he failed Basic Anatomy, “he’s mighty strong, able to dish out a lot of punishment. He’s a soldier, lad, a fighter, not a quitter”, Saradomin’s gaze finds out Aleso, “a fighter lad, inside, here.” Saradomin aims for the Liver and finds the Spleen.

“Let him go Dartamor, for he is bound to me, to St. Cuth Butt now. I shall call him… Jeff.”
“He said his name’s Alan.” Dartamor tries to help.
“Well he’s not Alan anymore, Alan was his Goblin name, tell him he’s Jeff now, Jeff St. Cuthbert- go on tell him.” Saradomin continues to shake the Goblin formerly known as Alan AKA Jeff St. Cuthbert, “tell him then”, Saradomin nods at Dartamor.

Who nods back, vigorously, smiling- “he says your name is Jeff…”
“Uz name’s Alan it wor uz mother’s na…”

In translation-

“My name’s Alan it was my mother’s na…”
“Thy name’s Jeff naw, if theur want ta stay ali', Jeff St. Cuthbert.”

In translation-

“Your name’s Jeff now, if you want to stay alive, Jeff St. Cuthbert.”

Dartamor nods vigorously, at the Goblin and Saradomin, in turns. The Goblin catches on- nods his entire head, body and soul in Saradomin’s direction.

The Priest unhooks his mace, wanders over to the Goblin, his grin slightly lopsided, “what’s your name?” There’s an air of menace in his voice.

“Deaf Sent Gutt Butt.”

Saradomin scowls, and moves closer in to the Goblin, in its face.

“Your name again soldier?”

“DEAF SENT GUTT BUTT.” The Goblin screams back and stamps his feet to attention.

“Ahhh, he’s so cute.” Saradomin pats the creatures head, and then wipes his hand.

Dartamor shakes his head, meets Jerky’s gaze, the Gnome leans around the door making a whirling motion to the side of his head, clearly signalling that Saradomin is mad. Dartamor nods back, vigorously.

“Good that’s settled.” Saradomin states, now we sing.

Aleso returns to the fold, “did I miss anything?”

Saradomin begins to sing/bellow, a bit of both actually, mostly bellow though, simultaneously thumping out the tune on the top of Jeff’s head.

“Onward Cuthbert’s soldiers,
Marching as to war,
With the carafe of Cuthbert,
Going on before…”

The Goblin winces and opens and closes his mouth in time to the words- nearly.

“I don’t know this one- is it a carol?” Aleso grins and attempts to join in.

Next Turn: I spy.

Slow and steady, that's the style; and it gets worse before it gets better, you'll see...


Turn 7.5: I spy.

“Oh that was a great song, well done everybody- St. Cuthbert will be pleased.”

The Priest hugs Jeff St. Cuthbert, the Goblin looks frightened, and confused.

“Get a room.” Aleso snickers and mocks.

DMs Interlude, sad to say but the following actually happened.

“I’ve got it.” Saradomin shouts.
“Well don’t give it to me.” Aleso guffaws, and gets odd looks.
“The perfect plan.”
“Go on then?” Dartamor enquires.
“We send Jeff back; to the other Goblins, to spy on them; the Chief and the Priestess- discover their tactics in the forthcoming confrontation. St. Cuthbert, bless me, but I’m a genius, it’s foolproof.”
Dartamor considers the plan.
“Genius. Genius.” And once more to be sure, “genius”, Grand Alf’s on board.
“You want to let him go.” Aleso nods towards Jeff, “back to the others, to spy on them. Then return to us with their tactics. You want him… to do that?” Aleso looks disgusted.
“Yes.” Saradomin states.
“It’s genius-like in its simplicity.” Grand Alf adds
Aleso considers some more, then shakes his head, “Saradomin you are, and I hate to say this… You are a brilliant man.”
“Genius.” Grand Alf adds.
“Right then”, Saradomin claps his hands together, “Dartamor tell Jeff to tell the chief that he is the sole survivor of our attack, that we were much weakened in the fracas and that we’ll probably be having our tea and generally lazing around- all unprepared, in say… twenty minutes or so. Then tell him that he should sneak back to us before the twenty minutes are up and tell us how they’re going to attack, their exact numbers, strengths and weaknesses, their insecurities and worries, and any internecine rivalries that exist. That should about do it. ”
Dartamor thinks about it, then nods and sets to work translating all of the above.

Aleso chucks Saradomin on the arm, “good work.”
Saradomin blushes a little.

Grand Alf wanders over, its clear he’s thinking, either that or constipated.

“I have a worry, just a niggle mind.”
“Go on.” Saradomin replies.
“Well look at him.”

Aleso and Saradomin stare at Jeff, who is nodding, very slowly, smiling thinly, and thinking exactly the same thoughts as you are dear reader.

“What about him?” Saradomin asks.
“Yes, what?” Aleso adds.

“Does he look Gobliny enough to you?” Grand Alf worries and chews a nail.

The two holy men consider Grand Alf’s point.

“Grand Alf… you may have something there.” Saradomin finally admits.
“He needs a disguise.” Aleso declares.
“Good work.” Saradomin nods and pats Aleso on the back, the Paladin smiles.

“I’ve got it.”

Grand Alf scuttles over to the fallen Bugbear, grabs the creature’s helm, looks at it for a bit- from every angle. Then shimmies over to Jeff and places it on the Goblin’s head, its far too big for…

“Perfect.” Saradomin declares.
“Better than perfect, very perfect.” Aleso states and folds his arms- content.

Two minutes later with a false smile nailed on his face Jeff St. Cuthbert is on his way out of the chamber and back to his people.

“Oi. Where do you think you’re going?” Jerky bars the Goblin’s path. Jeff looks terrified.

“No need”, Aleso ushers Jerky aside, pats Jeff on the head, actually raps him on the helmet, and gestures for the Goblin to go on.

“Don’t worry Jerky he’ll be back, we’ve disguised Jeff as a Goblin in order for him to return to his brothers in arms and discover their tactics in the forthcoming battle, to sow confusion and doubt in their ranks. To give us the edge, it’s a genius plan- I had a hand in it of course, the disguise was my idea.”
“Why?” Jerky snaps back.
“Why what?”
“Why does he need a disguise?”
“To make him look like a proper Goblin, we don’t want them to see through our ruse; Jeff will be our Trodden Horse.”
“Our what?”
“Trodden Horse, it’s a classic tactic in warfare.”
“Trodden Horse?”
“Hmmm.” Aleso salutes the departing Jeff St. Cuthbert who turns one last time, shrugs and waves, and then legs it through the northern exit.

“He’s a brave little Goblin.” Aleso wipes a tear from his eye, he’s still saluting, “what were you saying?”

Jerky looks very confused.

“What if he doesn’t come back?” He asks.

Saradomin swans through the door, waves slowly, even though Jeff is about home by now.

“Then his death will not have been in vain. We will make sure of that.”

“We will not see his like again.” Grand Alf states as he joins the crowd.

Jerky stares at the three figures in tableau, then shakes his head.

“Forget I said anything. In fact forget everything I’ve ever said. That’s it.” Jerky mimes sewing his lips shut.

The Gnome wanders off to sit down out of the light, somewhere away from the madding crowd.

“Twenty minutes.” Saradomin states.
“What shall we do?” Aleso asks.
“I’m going to make tea and have my sandwiches.” Grand Alf states and shuffles back into the chamber.
“I think I’ll take my armour off then and give it a good clean.” Aleso heads in.
“I think I’ll have a snooze.” Saradomin declares and mooches off.

Next Turn: But why?


“We send Jeff back; to the other Goblins, to spy on them; the Chief and the Priestess- discover their tactics in the forthcoming confrontation. St. Cuthbert, bless me, but I’m a genius, it’s foolproof.”

Wow. Usually it's the NPC trying to (unsuccessfully) convince the party to let them go.

NPC: "No, really, I'll change my ways and never trouble you again, if you would just let me go. Please?"
PC: "Well gee, let me think about that for a while, (whole party, all together) NO!"
NPC: "Well, it was worth a shot."

I think they're about to learn an important lesson. Then comes the moral dilemma - keep prisoner or put to death...


Abciximab said:
Wow. Usually it's the NPC trying to (unsuccessfully) convince the party to let them go.

NPC: "No, really, I'll change my ways and never trouble you again, if you would just let me go. Please?"
PC: "Well gee, let me think about that for a while, (whole party, all together) NO!"
NPC: "Well, it was worth a shot."

I think they're about to learn an important lesson. Then comes the moral dilemma - keep prisoner or put to death...

Forgive me but the chance of them learning any lessons here is extremely slim, whatever it is I throw at them, well... you'll see.

Thanks for the comment always appreciated.

Turn 7.6: But why?

In a wrecked chamber with a sagging stone roof, and one wall missing a bunch of Goblins huddle, front and centre Durnn paces and stares at a much smaller Goblin, known to some as Jeff St. Cuthbert, to others as Alan Goblin.

“Bur why? Why did thee let theur nip on?” Durnn asks Alan again.

In translation-

“But why? Why did they let you go?”

Alan Goblin has been stood at attention for quite a while now; he’s not sure which is worse, confronting his chief or the Lost Boys.

“I think 'e fancied uz.”

In translation-

“I think he fancied me.”
“T’ Priest?” Durnn asks.

In translation-

“The Priest?”

Alan nods and adds.

“Thee orl seemed ta li' me… Thee wor very… Reeight pleasant. Gran' chuffin', you’d li' 'em.”

In translation-

“They all seemed to like me… They were very… Very pleasant. Nice really, you’d like them.”

Durnn turns on the spot.


And punches Alan into early next week.

Before Alan can get up the chief is on top of him, squatting on his chest, “na tell uz agin, everythin theur saw, everee detail. Ah want ta kna orl abaht 'em.”

In translation-

“now tell me again, everything you saw, every detail. I want to know all about them.”

Ten minutes later, Alan’s tale has been told.

“Soa, let’s gerr dis straight- there’s an Elf armed wi' eur magic rope, whoa 'urls dead Goblins a' fowk?” Durnn asks.

In translation-

“So, let’s get this straight- there’s an Elf armed with a magic rope, who hurls dead Goblins at people?”
Alan nods.

“There’s eur tin can- eur bloke wrapped i' metal, who’s balancin eur slug on 'is lip, 'n whoa does umpteen o' dancin, 'n squeyts when 'e walks… 'n leaves eur trail o' puddles behin' 'im?” Durnn goes on.

In translation-

“There’s a tin can- a man wrapped in metal, who’s balancing a slug on his lip, and who does a lot of dancing, and squeaks when he walks… and leaves a trail of puddles behind him?”

Alan nods.
Durnn continues.

“The third is wearin eur burnt 'n ripped frock, eur lab coa' likewise ruined, eur false beard, 'n let uz gerr dis next bit right- 'e wor dead, bur then 'e getten up agin?” Alan nods.

In translation-

“The third is wearing a burnt and ripped dress, a lab coat likewise ruined, a false beard, and let me get this next bit right- he was dead, but then he got up again?”

“An' started shahtin a' theur?”
Alan nods some more.

In translation-

“And started shouting at you?”

“Then there’s eur sneyty Gnome, t' 'un we 'ed as prisona fert last year or sa, onny wi' cleeas on, 'n 'e’s upset wi' t' others abaht summa'?”
Alan nods.

In translation-

“Then there’s a sneaky Gnome, the one we had as prisoner for the last year or so, only with clothes on, and he’s upset with the others about something?”

“What’s 'e upset abaht?”
Alan shakes his head and shrugs.

In translation-

“What’s he upset about?”

Durnn presses on.

“The leada is eur 'Oly bloke, eur gran' bloke, eur reeight gran' man- these wor thy words rememba, wi' eur gran' smell, li' cheap whisky. 'N ah want ta gerr dis absolutely right- 'e touched theur?”

In translation-

“The leader is a holy man, a nice man, a very nice man- these were your words remember, with a nice smell, like cheap whisky. And I want to get this absolutely right- he touched you?”
Alan shakes his head.

“He tried ta kiss theur?”
Alan nods his head.

In translation-

“He tried to kiss you?”

“Because 'e fancied theur?”
Alan nods his head again.

In translation-

“Because he fancied you?”

“But 'e wor still reeight gran', 'n dis is anotha 'un o' thy words- theur described 'im as, dreamy?”
Alan looks sheepish, then looks up and nods.

In translation-

“But he was still very nice, and this is another one of your words- you described him as, dreamy?”

“An' lastly Bernard t' Bugbear, naw wi' onny 'un ahm, wor followin 'em aroun', although 'e looked umpteen li' dead- thy words agin?”
Alan nods.

In translation-

“And lastly Bernard the Bugbear, now with only one arm, was following them around, although he looked a lot like dead- your words again?”

Durnn stares at Alan.

The other Goblins in the chamber shuffle round to join the audience.

Eventually Alan nods, once.

“An' theur expect uz ta beleev 'a'?”
Alan nods, vigorously.

In translation-

“And you expect me to believe that?”

Alan Goblin grins.


Durnn leans in close and sniffs Alan’s breath.

“You’ve bin suppin.”
Alan nods, vigorously.

In translation-

“You’ve been drinking.”


Alan skitters onto the floor to fetch his teeth.

“Tell t' Ahtcast we’re expectin trouble, orl o' theur gerr ready, they’re comin. 'N Alan- front line.” Durnn declares, Goblins rush to obey, Alan- gap-toothed, saunters to the front of the queue.

In translation-

“Tell the Outcast we’re expecting trouble, all of you get ready, they’re coming. And Alan- front line.”

Back in the octagonal chamber, temporary home to The Lost Boys, an hour and a half has passed since Jeff St. Cuthbert left.

“He’s not coming back.” Jerky pokes his head round the door, “I told you he wouldn’t.”
“He’s a brave Goblin- that’s all I have to say on the matter, taking them all on… single-handedly, fighting for what’s right. I’ll say no more on the subject, except that Alan will be missed, by all of us.” Saradomin concludes and bows his head.
Grand Alf and Aleso look forlorn, the Paladin sniffs and wipes an eye.
“Now let us pray.” Saradomin states and thumps his right hand across his chest, the others bow their heads.

“Our St. Cuthbert, that art in the tavern,
Hollow be thy frame.
Thy Burger comes.
Grilled, in a bun,
floury and unleavened.
Forgive us this day our daily dead.
And our trespasses,
as we DO NOT forgive those
who trespass against us.
Lead us into temptation,
and deliver us unto evil:
For mine is the pickled-egg,
and the beer, and the whisky-chaser,
forever and ever.
How Much?”​

The adventurers mooch back and forth, wondering what to do next.

“And that’s the last I’ll say on the matter… he was very brave… Alan… very brave indeed, some could learn from him.” Saradomin stares at the Paladin, who cannot meet his gaze.

“HE’S NOT COMING BACK- HE’S SOLD US OUT, RIGHT NOW HE’S SITTING WITH HIS GOBLIN FRIENDS LAUGHING AT US- TELLING THEM ALL ABOUT US. YOU’RE IDIOTS. YOU’RE ALL MAD.” Jerky silhouetted in the doorway finally runs out of steam, he stands there seething.

“He wouldn’t tell them we were idiots, or mad- what proof would he have? That’s just ridiculous.” Grand Alf states hands on hips.
“Jerky, can you not see that Our Lord has seen fit to Bless me with many rare powers, my charm is legendary, my wit almost unwittable-less, I am a simple man, a lowly genius- I am the Oerthly incarnation of Our Lord, or as I call him- Bert. Jealousy is a terrible thing, now I want you to think about that and pray, to me, for forgiveness- I feel your time down here with the Goblins has affected your mind, you must seek succour and penance for your falsehoods, it is not too late little one, for although your brain is both small and addled you will one day see the truth of it. Now kneel before The Chosen One.” Saradomin indicates the exact spot he’d like Jerky to kneel.

“But how?” Aleso asks.

“Hambush!” Grand Alf crouches into a combat stance, waves his fork left then right, causing Saradomin and Dartamor to take evasive action.

The others scatter, ready for anything, except Aleso who is hurriedly trying to get his armour back on as he’s only wearing his underpants at the moment, he’s having no luck, particularly as he’s got his legs in the sleeves.

Nothing happens for a bit.

“Do you mean that they have captured Jeff St. Cuthbert and tortured him in order to reveal our whereabouts?” Saradomin whispers.
“He was a very brave Goblin, he wouldn’t crack, a tough nut, they wouldn’t be able to break Alan.” Grand Alf shakes his head.
“I mean Alan went back there, after you let him go, and just told them all about us.” Jerky explains patiently, “he’s a Goblin, they’re all Goblins, he went back to his Chief and just told them about us, he’s not on our side- he was only pretending to be your friend. Don’t you see?”

Saradomin looks confused, Grand Alf continues to shake his head.

“Got it.” Aleso states, he hasn’t, he has both of his legs through the hole in the armour normally reserved for his head.


The Paladin falls over.

Next Turn: Finally.


Turn 7.7: Finally.

“Damn- well I didn’t see that.” Grand Alf shrugs and gets on with eating his Magic Smash sandwich.

“I still can’t believe it.” Saradomin shakes his head, he’s been let down in a bad way, his faith rocked- “BERT”, he shakes his fist at the ceiling of the chamber, “I HOPE YOU’RE SATISFIED…” The Priest of St. Cuthbert continues to mouth obscenities in the general direction of his deity.

“So they know everything?” Aleso states, Jerky nods back.
“What do you think he’ll have said about me?” Aleso strikes a chivalrous pose.
“Not much, probably something about that thing”, Dartamor points at the Paladin’s ex-moustache, “it looks like your balancing a slug on your top lip.”
“What? How…” Aleso fumbles for a mirror, admires himself and his singed toothbrush moustache.

Jerky giggles and winks at the Rogue, who sighs and then winks back.

“Come on let’s go and find them then.” Dartamor leads the Lost Boys off.

The others fall in line and wander off through the northern door into another of the octagonal chambers stuffed with fungi, although much flattened in places, there’s another door out of the chamber, and it’s open.

“This way.” Dartamor leads them quietly off down a dank and dark corridor.

“I suppose we just have to do things differently.” Saradomin states.
“What are you on about?” Jerky asks.
“Well now they know our tactics then we need to change them, do things differently, perhaps when the time comes you…” Saradomin stares at Aleso, “could try running towards the enemy. They wouldn’t expect that.”
“Right, that’s it.”

Aleso throws his scimitar and shield on the floor- which makes quite a lot of noise.

“If you say one more thing about my moustache then… I’m going home.” Aleso folds his arms across his chest.
Saradomin grins.
“I mean it.” Aleso stamps his foot into a puddle sending freezing cold foul water up and over his armour.

“Aleso.” Dartamor’s voice travels down the line of now stationery adventurers in a whisper.
“What?” Aleso whispers back.
“Shut up and get to the front, it’s time for the smiting.”

Aleso scrambles for his sword and shield and is at the front in seconds.

“Look.” Dartamor points.
The Paladin peers around the corner, “Wow!”

Dragon-carved granite blocks tile the walls and ceilings of the chamber ahead, although many are crumbled and broken, creating piles of stony debris on the floor. A huge marble statue of a rearing dragon still stands in the curve of the western wall, some fifteen feet over. The eye sockets of the dragon are empty, but a red glow lingers there, providing reddish light throughout the chamber. The effulgence casts an inky shadow behind the statues wide wings. A crumbling 5-foot diameter circular red stone tile is inset in the floor in front of the rearing dragon carving. Runes are carved around the circular tiles inner edge.

There’s an open door out of the chamber barely five feet away from where Aleso peers.

“Cover me.”

Aleso crouches low, weapons at the ready, “Oh Pelor hear my prayer, let this base scoundrel…”

Dartamor turns back to stare at the Paladin, somewhat put out.

“Sorry, let this stout yeoman, sorry yo-elf, come to no harm, let him not be set upon by a fiery dragon, singed to charred cinders his body indistinguishable from the foul trappings of this…”

Dartamor has stopped again to stare back at the Paladin.

“What?” Aleso enquires.
“Can you perhaps not pray so loud?”
The Paladin nods back, mouths the rest of his psalm.

Dartamor is at the tile, he gives it a quick look and then steps on it- nothing happens. Runes circle the edge of the strange stone; they’re in Draconic, a language he is familiar with.

Dartamor reads.

“Ea serpenta rau kaluva nayawisti…”

“Which means…” Dartamor begins, and then is suddenly engulfed in flame. The Rogue attempts to avoid the flamey gout but is caught in the spectral fire.

“DARTAMOR.” Aleso yells and is in to the room swatting invisible foes, the other members of the Lost Boys spill into the chamber wondering what all the fuss is about.

Dartamor steps out of the flame, which seems to come from the dragon carvings gaping maw, the flames abate the instant the Rogue emerges.

He seems to shimmer, he looks somehow elevated, not taller, but more regal, stately, he carries himself differently, like someone used to being obeyed.

“What do you think?” Dartamor effects a pose, his skin seems to glow, his complexion is clear, his teeth sparkle, his eyes twinkle, and his nose is aquiline and imperial, also his ears jut out a little less.

“You look… are you using a new moisturiser?” Aleso asks.
“Moisture…what?” Dartamor looks confused, and yet in command, it’s a difficult set of emotions to convey and yet the Rogue manages it with élan.

“SHADOW.” Jerky suddenly screams, and leaps out of the room and into the next unexplored chamber.

“What?” A chorus from the others, who haven’t moved.

“Shadow” is the muffled reply, the Gnome is face down in a pile of sodden books and scrolls, he seems to have discovered the library- it’s a waterlogged ruin.

“There are lots of shadows.” Saradomin states and looks about a bit, all the while edging closer to the red tile.

The other members of the Lost Boys form a rough half-circle, weapons drawn.

In the other chamber Jerky wrestles himself free of the pulpy mass- “a shadow, an Undead creature from the Plane of Shadow, a servant of the dark one”, the Gnome burrows back into the sodden paper.
“What’s it look like… the Shadow?” Saradomin enquires.
“The Dark who?” Aleso asks.

And at that moment the Shadow appears, a black as hell spirit with two glowing red eyes, tears in the very fabric of its being, an ineffable damnation.

“Does it look like an ineffable damnation?” Saradomin yells in Jerky’s general direction.

“Yes”, comes the little-one’s muffled reply.

“Check- got it.” Saradomin gives a thumbs up sign.
“Do you feel that- either there’s a draft or it just got colder. Brrr.” Aleso hugs himself.

The Shadow shrugs and then moves in for the kill.

“I can’t see anything”, Grand Alf shouts, “are you having me on, is this some kind of prank?”

DMs Interlude- the Shadow’s initiative roll was 4, that’s including the +2- now do you see my point?

“I’ll deal with this.” Aleso takes a swig from the flame breath potion, then realises, mouth full, he no longer has the bottle in his possession.

“Got’s gis?” Aleso reads the label on the flask, it says ‘Holy Water’, he shrugs and then blows a liquid raspberry at the Shadow engulfing the creature in a spray of holy spittle.

The liquid steams and fizzes as soon as it touches the fiend’s shadowy form.

“Bug-Ah.” It whispers and backs away swiftly.

Aleso stands tall before it.

“By the Light of Holy Pelor I banish back to the eleven hells from which you came foul nether demon, do not tempt me again for I am armed with the trusty scimitar of righteousousnessness-nessity, and the holy shield of… shielding, damn…”

The Shadow has had enough, it surges forward a wave of terrifying darkness set to engulf Aleso.

The Paladin swishes hopelessly and is duly engulfed.

“I can’t see, light… light, please.”



“That’s better.” Grand Alf grins mischievously.

Many things happen at once, the Shadow attacks the Paladin, who is struck by its icy claws which seem to pass clear through the Paladin’s armour, as does his sword, straight through the Shadow that is. Furthermore the Paladin is swathed in a cloak of darkness as the dark spirit flits at terrific speed around him, looking for another point of attack.

It’s at this point that Grand Alf casts a light spell, ostensibly at the Shadow.

DMs Interlude, and rolls a 20.

The Shadow now glowing like the Angel on top of the Christmas Tree loses it, at present the thing is flitting crazily about in the upper reaches of the chamber, like some Halloween moth that still hasn’t realised that the glowing thing it is chasing, or as in this case- trying to get away from, is itself.

“Come on.” Jerky screams.

The Lost Boys admire the display for a while longer until the light winks out as the Shadow seems to pass into the stone ceiling above.

“Pretty.” Aleso comments, and stalks after the others.

Leaning and completely fallen stone bookshelves fill this chamber, though a clear path connects to an open wooden door opposite. The litter of torn and burnt pages, bindings, and scrolls form disordered sodden piles all over the floor.

Jerky heaves the door shut.

“Quickly, let’s get on, the Shadow may be back.” Jerky heads over to the far door.

“Hang on, just hang on; are you suggesting we just leave that thing in there?” Aleso puts his hands on his hips, his ‘I’m a little teapot’ pose.
“Yes, no time.” Jerky is out the chamber, “come on.”

Saradomin smiles, “Dartamor?”
The Rogue looks up; he’s rifling the shelves, looking for anything salvageable, “yep.”
“Have you still got one of them Climbing Potions?”
“Yep.” The Rogue continues to check the library out.
“Excellent, I think I have a plan, we’ll need the Potion, Bernard and a Magic Weapon Spell- which I will of course provide.” Saradomin’s grin spreads to ear-to-ear.

Jerky collapses to his knees in the corridor, then begins to thunk his head into the dirty stonework of the passage.

Next Turn: Hambush.


Turn 7.8: Hambush

“No listen… Listen, its simple really Bernard drinks the Potion of Spider Climbing, I cast Magic Weapon on his arm, the one that’s there, and then we lock him in the chamber to destroy the Shadow- what could be simpler?” Saradomin offers.




The sound of Jerky butting his head against the wall in the corridor.

Aleso screws his face up, trying to imagine the aforementioned scenario, “I’m not so sure…”
“What’s the problem- it’s foolproof.”
“Like your last plan then.” Grand Alf crosses his arms and harrumphs.

“I expected him to have doubts”, Saradomin points at Aleso, “but not you Grand Alf- Bernard can be very resourceful, and sure it’ll be a titanic battle, but think of it- a Spider Climbing Magic Zombie Bugbear, tell me that’s not something you want to be involved in?”

Grand Alf’s little eyes light up, he begins to nod, “I’m in.”




“Can someone shut the door, that sound’s putting me off?” Saradomin asks.
Grand Alf goes to obey but is halted en route by Dartamor, he fixes the group with an easy smile, his eyes wink and sparkle in the half-light.

“No, it’s too easy, and too little. Our path goes on, our destiny is that way.” Dartamor points out of the chamber, towards Jerky, who arrests his head-butting to see where the Rogue’s speech is going.

“We have bigger fish to fry, greater battles lie ahead, we will mark our density ahead… er, down there.” Dartamor points past Jerky, then continues, “Grand Alf take these scrolls I found on the shelves to augment your already fantastic power, read them, learn them- for we will have need of your magic in the confrontation that lies ahead. Aleso pick up your mighty sword, ready your arm, clad in steel you will be the shining beacon that leads the way.”

Grand Alf giggles as he examines the scrolls, Aleso strike a glorious pose, fluffs what’s left of his feeble moustache.

“And Saradomin, I sense your heart is in the right place and yet you need direction- do not waste your time here with feeble shadow-creatures, the Goblin Chief lies ahead, and his vile Priestess, and beyond them the children we swore to rescue and their evil captor, the foul Outcast- test your mettle, your divinity, there.”

Saradomin opens and closes his mouth a while, tries to think of some fine repost, eventually just shrugs, and with a wistful backwards look, strides off into the foul corridor.

“Come Bernard.”
“Yeth Marthter.”

The Zombie Bugbear plods after him.

The Lost Boys press on, cautiously down a flight of stairs into a partially flooded corridor, on still and up a second flight of stairs, out of the water, then sharp right into a long dark corridor.

There are two doors on the left-hand wall towards the end of the passage.

“Hold.” Dartamor puts his hand up, the others settle in formation.
“What is it?” Aleso whispers.
“The furthest door, it just closed- they know we’re coming- quickly.”

Dartamor heads off at a canter; the others follow on as best they can.

The Rogue pulls up at the first door, signals for Aleso, the Paladin arrives swiftly.

“Secure the far door.” Dartamor whispers, the Paladin presses on, stands ready by the farthest portal, nods to Dartamor- ready for action.
“Bernard- protect him.” Saradomin whispers.
“Yeth Marthter.” Bugbear lumbers over to stand by the Paladin.

Dartamor presses himself against the first door, not a sound from within, the lock is easy, there are no traps to be found, two minutes later he leads the remainder of the adventurers in- leaving Aleso with Bernard for company.

“I don’t think we’ve been formally introduced, I’m Aleso, Paladin of Pelor…” Aleso holds out his hand.

The Zombie Bugbear looks down at his hand then looks up and eyes the Paladin, grins at him.

Aleso looks confused and a little worried; a feeling of déjà vu disturbs his thoughts.

A layer of soil covers the floor. Rough wooden shelves, filled with a scattering of tomes and scrolls, line the north and east walls; a rough-hewn desk stands in the centre of the chamber. Fungus on the ceiling provides light, apparently in sufficient quantity to nourish several small bushes and pale saplings that grow in the soil.

“Careful, and quietly- search the place, watch out for the plants.” Dartamor whispers.

The chamber reveals its secrets very quickly, and without mishap, a pair of scrolls which are passed via a disappointed Grand Alf to Saradomin.

Dartamor has meanwhile been at work on the only other door exiting the chamber, thirty seconds ago it was locked- no longer, he nods once and then bursts into the room beyond.

Which is…

Which is…

Full of Goblins.

“Attack.” Durnn screams.

Dartamor is standing in an empty, forlorn looking, sagging chamber, there’s a door to his immediate right. The collapsed southern wall, ahead, opens into a vast cavern. Pustules of luminescent fungus on the rough walls and high roof loom over the Twilight Grove beyond.

Around the collapsed wall are over a dozen Goblins, including Durnn, the Chieftain, and his Priestess.

Arrows, crossbows, slings and stones come whizzing towards the Rogue, who does his best to avoid the blows but he’s stuck for cover.

A stone strikes him on the temple, draws a line of blood, an arrow pierces his side, Dartamor stumbles backwards, already on his last legs- a dagger goes spinning out from his hand- smashes into a Goblin’s face, the creature sinks to its knees and then falls face first into the dirt. One down.


Dartamor screams.

DMs Interlude, to conclude, the highest initiative in this fracas for the bad guys was 4, that was Chief Durnn. Did I make my point? One whole session and not once, excluding the odd surprise attack, did I get the drop on The Lost Boys- a bad dice day at the office.

“CHARGE.” Durnn screams.

The Goblins leap into action, as Grand Alf strides into the chamber- “Snooooozo.”

The first three Goblins tumble and crunch to the chamber floor- snore loudly.

Their compatriots come to a sudden halt, a quarter of their number, almost, put out of action with a gesture.

Which proves to be their undoing.

Saradomin steps into the chamber scroll in hand, he reads and points- “Twister.”

The effect is instantaneous, roots and branches erupt from the ground, clutching and grasping for Goblin limbs, almost all of the creatures are caught in the spells effect, including Durnn, the Chief, who however is far from done with the Lost Boys.

“Destroy 'em, destroy 'em orl. T' Ahtcast demands it. Ah deman' it.”

In translation-

“Destroy them, destroy them all. The Outcast demands it. I demand it.”

Alan Goblin is caught in the plant growth, held fast, Saradomin spots him.

“Oh that’s right, not so flirty now are you mister, YOU HURT MY FEELINGS.” The later part of the speech is at volume 11.


The unopened door suddenly flies into the chamber; Aleso stands in the wreckage, Bernard behind him.

“Have we started yet?” He enquires.
Dartamor looks up from his wounds- nods at the Paladin.

“FOR PELOR, come Bernard.” The Paladin screams and cuts down the first two Goblins he sees.

The others charge in, even Jerky, who darts out of the previous chamber waving his light mace.

Dartamor slices another of the little fiends down, while Saradomin brains Durnn as the Chief finally extracts himself from the plants grip, alas the Goblin Priestess is on hand, she steps in and touches her Lord, his wounds instantly close.

“Stan' fast Goblins, destroy these feeble topsiders.” Durnn shouts, but around him his Goblin troops are struggling badly.

In translation-

“Stand fast Goblins, destroy these feeble topsiders.”

Aleso is caught on the shoulder by a Goblin’s blade, the Paladin battles on, smashes another of the creatures down. Saradomin likewise breaks the skull of the Goblin facing him; Durnn sees it all and retreats.

The Goblin Priestess steps in front of her Chieftain, waves her arms about and mutters strange sounding words, a sudden flash of darkness, no more than an eye-blink and it’s gone.

The result of which is that Grand Alf feels less than happy, frustrated, piqued, definitely out of sorts.

“Right that’s it- BIFFBANGPOW.”

Two Magic Missiles jet from his scroll and thump into Durnn’s chest, sending the Goblin Chieftain sprawling.

“Ow.” At the same instant a Goblin hammer connects, with considerable force, with Grand Alf’s right knee-cap, the Sorcerer hops off clutching the offending spot.

The Goblin attacker giggles, and is then cast in shadow, it looks up, and up, into the eys of Bernard the Zombie Bugbear.


The Goblin’s concertinaed body topples over.

Aleso continues to take blows, he’s cut again, this time on his left hand side, a deep wound from a Goblin short sword, his own attacks are proving to be less effective.

All of the remaining Goblins have fought and wriggled their way out from the entangling plants now, the odds are evening up.


Saradomin’s heavy mace opens up the side of Grenl, the Goblin Priestesses head; she staggers back, spinning- dizzy.


Aleso picks up the pace, decapitates one of the little creatures, strides into the thick of the fracas, and slices a huge chunk out of Durnn, the Chieftain; all the Goblin can do is scramble backwards, away from the Paladin.

On the outskirts of the fight Dartamor is trading blows with a lone Goblin, it’s Alan, at last he gets the better of the turncoat, feints left and dodges right, stabs the creature clean through its gut, Alan clutches at the blade, drags himself forward, motions to Dartamor who bends to him, whispers in the Rogue’s ear.

“Deaf Sent Gutt Butt.”

Nods stoically then tries to salute but it’s too late, he expires.

Jerky thumps into Grand Alf’s side, holding the hoping Sorcerer up, the Gnome pumps his healing energies into him and Grand Alf’s wounds are instantly mended.


Another scroll and another two magic Missiles, this time they slam into Grenl, the Goblin Priestess, whose head jerks back, she slumps to the floor- dead.

Which just leaves the Chief- Durnn.

The fight stops to take a breath.

“Surrender?” Aleso states pointing his blade at the creature.

“Pah!” Durnn spits on the floor.

He’s about to go on with his prepared speech, when…


Grand Alf whizzes past the Paladin, and the DMs place on the page.


And stabs his fork into the Goblin Chieftain’s belly, a slick of blood suddenly appears from Durnn’s mouth, he collapses, slowly, in stages.


Grand Alf withdraws his fork and waves it high in the air above his head, Goblin blood drips down, slathering his face and clothes.


The Sorcerer growls, very feral.

“What was that?” Dartamor asks.
“What?” Aleso enquires.
“I thought that bush moved.” The Rogue states.

Beyond the southern wall is a vast cavern, illuminated by the glowing fungi, thick with sickly briars, in the midst of which the Lost Boys can see ruined walls and hollow towers which protrude from the briars like islands in the sea.

The three sleeping Goblins snooze on.

Next Turn: Bush Whackers.


I love this story hour. Each update is guaranteed to bring a laugh and a smile. I've always appreciated enthusiastic, albeit misguided, players embracing the absurdity of D&D, given the DM is willing to run with it.

Keep up the good work.
Last edited:


Ristamar said:
I love this story hour. Each update is guaranteed to bring a laugh and a smile. I've always appreciated enthusiastic, albeit misguided, players embracing the absurdity of D&D, given the DM is willing to run with it.

Keep up the good work.

I'll try to, thanks for that, much appreciated.

Bit of a pause before the storm-

Turn 8.1: Bush Whackers.

Actually the above is patently untrue, its “Bush Whackers” next turn- instead let’s just catch up with the Players stats before the final push.

Grand Alf​

Human Male Sorcerer Level 2
NG HP 12 AC 12 Init +6
Str 8 Dex 14 Con 13 Int 10 Wis 12 Ch 17
Saves Fort +1 Ref +2 Will +4
Shortspear “Pokey” +0 d8-1
Lt. Xbow (Mwk) “The Stapler” +4 d8
Dagger +0 or +3 d4-1
Grand Alf’s Staff of Earth Moving (Spade) -4 d8-1
Grand Alf’s Fork of Earth Forking (Fork) -4 d8-1
Armour: Spangly Robes and Wizard-type conical hat, so none then.
Feats: Improved Initiative & Toughness
Skills of note: Bluff +3 Concentrate +5 Diplomacy +3 Disguise +3 Gather Info +3 Intimidate +3 Perform (Sing- Cheesy Pop) +3 Spellcraft +5 Spot +4

Spells Level 0 (6) Light, Ghost Sound, Detect Magic, Ray of Frost, Read Magic Level 1 (5) Sleep, Magic Missile

Items of note: Thunderstone, Scrolls Sleep (x2), Shield (x2, Mage Armour, Spider Climb, Knock; Potions Invisibility & Blur.


Half-Elf Male Rogue Level 2
CN HP 10 AC 16 Init +7
Str 16 Dex 16 Con 9 Int 18 Wis 13 Ch 11
Saves Fort -1 Ref +6 Will +1
Rapier (Mwk) +5 d6+3
Comp. Shortbow (Mwk Mighty (STR 12)) +5 d6+1
Silver Edged Dagger +4 or +4 d4+3
Armour: Black Mwk Studded Leather
Feats: Improved Initiative Sneak Attack +d6
Skills of note: Appraise +5 Balance +4 Bluff +3 Climb +7 Craft (Hunter) +4 Decipher Script +5 Disable Device +8 Escape Artist +3 Forgery +5 Heal +3 Hide +7 Jump +3 Knowldege (Nature) +5 Listen +6 Move Silently +7 Open Lock +8 Pick Pocket +4 Read Lips +5 Ride (Horse) +4 Search +9 Spot +5 Swim +3 Tumble +5 Use Rope +4

Items of note: Silk Climbing Rope, 10 Mwk Arrows, Potions Spider Climb, Hiding & Cure Light; Everburning Torch.

Aleso Flett​

Human Male Paladin of Pelor Level 2
LG HP 21 AC 15 Init 0
Str 15 Dex 11 Con 12 Int 10 Wis 12 Ch 18
Saves Fort +8 Ref +4 Will +5
Scimitar (Mwk) +5 d6+2
Comp. Longbow +2 d8
Dagger +4 or +2 d4+2
Armour: Shiny Chain Shirt & Sparkling Steel Buckler
Feats: Power Attack & Cleave; Divine Grace, Detect Evil, Divine Health, Lay on Hands (8 HP/Day), Aura of Courage (Immune to Fear), Smite Evil 1/Day (+4 To Hit & +2 Damage)
Skills of note: Bluff +4 Concentration +3 Craft (Carpentry) +3 Diplomacy +6 Disguise +4 Gather Information +4 Handle Animal +5 Heal +4 Intimidate +4 Perform (Sing- Opera) +4

Items of note: Potions Bull’s Strength, Cure Moderate & Cure Light (x2).


Human Male Cleric of St. Cuthbert Level 2
LN HP 19 AC 19 Init +3
Str 16 Dex 16 Con 15 Int 14 Wis 17 Ch 13
Saves Fort +5 Ref +3 Will +6
Heavy Mace (Mwk) +5 d8+3
Lt. Xbow +4 d8
Club +4 or +4 d6+3
Armour: Dirty Chainmail & Rusty, slightly bent, Large Steel Shield
Feats: Extra Turning (8/Day) & Scribe Scroll; Smite 1/Day (To Hit +4 & Damage +2), Strength boost (+2 lasts 2 Minutes)
Skills of note: Balance +3 Climb +3 Concentration +6 Craft (Armoursmith) +3 Diplomacy +3 Escape Artist +3 Heal +8 Hide +3 Jump +3 Knowledge (Arcane) +3 Knowledge (Religion) +5 Listen +3 Move Silently +3 Perform (Bagpipes) +1 Profession (Scribe) +4 Ride (Horse) +3 Sense Motive +3 Spellcraft +6 Spot +5 Swim +3 Use Rope +3 Wilderness Lore +3

Spells; Domains- Strength & Destruction, Level 0 (4), Level 1(3+1)

Items of note: Scrolls of- Protection from Elements, Cure Light Wounds, Command, Inflict Light Wounds, Magic Weapon, Slow Poison, Faerie Fire; Potion of Fire Breath & Cure Disease.

Jerky Timbers​

Gnome Male Cleric of St. Cuthbert Level 1 & Fighter Level 1
CG HP 18 AC 14 Init +0
Str 14 Dex 10 Con 14 Int 10 Wis 15 Ch 12
Saves Fort +4 Ref +0 Will +4
Light Mace +5 d4+2
Dagger, Masterwork (As Shortsword) +5 d4+2
Armour: Dirty Goblin Leather & Almost Broken Wooden Shield
Feats: Weapon Focus (Light Mace), Scribe Scroll, Power Attack
Skills of note: Climb +3 Concentration +6 Diplomacy +3 Heal +4 Jump +3 Listen +4 Spellcraft +3 Spot +5
Spells; Domains- Good & Healing, Level 0 (3), Level 1(2+1)

Items of note: That’s right, nothing.

Next Turn: Bush Whackers 4 Real

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