The Lost Boys vs The Sunless Citadel

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Richard Rawen

First Post
Take this:

[ url=]The Lost Boys in the Sunless Citadel[/url]

and take out the space after the [

like this : [url

That will fix it

Oh, and you might want to parse it down a bit, it's somewhat long, say take out the blank lines between the characters or put them one after another... whatever you want, but it should be a bit shorter. *shrug*
Or, you can always do an sblock :)
like this:
(I'm leaving the first [ off in the explanation, then putting it on in the example below it.
sblock=example]This is an example of an SBLOCK - or blocked off text[/sblock]
[sblock=example]This is an example of an SBLOCK - or blocked off text[/sblock]

Also, you might use the Preview Changes button, so you can tell if it is right before posting.
To avoid losing your work (Say the site glitches or something) Press and hold the CTRL key, then hit the "A" key. This will highlight the whole post. Then CTRL-C to copy the text. This will copy your post to the clipboard just in case the website crashes or hangs up. Then, when the site is back up, you can hold the CTRL key and press "V" to paste the contents of the clipboard to the page so you don't have to retype. This is especially useful if you have made a Large post and might not remember some of it! I use this everytime I post, just in case. You get good at the CTRL-A, CTRL-C habit before Preview Changes...
I hope this makes sense and is helpful.
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Thanks for that Richard, think I've got it sorted now.

Turn 3.4

“Aleso vs. the mighty, eight-armed, fire-breathing, Goblin-Demons.”​

The party is back together, crowded around Aleso, who has a story to tell…

“And then what happened?”

Grand Alf is hooked.

“Well how was I to know that that thing…” Aleso spits-points at the wreck of Rattler, which is being mooned over by Meepo, “weren’t going to fight until I got hurt.”

The paladin bores holes in the back of Meepo’s head.

“So the Goblin’s are on us, actually me, two of ‘em, each about six feet tall, bulging with muscles- I’d dodged through their fire attacks, lost my eyebrows, oh and ‘tache- no biggie, and they’re slicing at me. Fortunately I’m made of sterner stuff, feel that…”

Aleso proffers a bicep to Grand Alf to feel, gingerly he does so.

“I eat a lot of cabbage.” Aleso proudly claims, and winks at the bemused sorcerer.

Dartamor meanwhile stares at the remains of the four Goblins, they are not six feet tall, nor fire-breathing- as far as he can tell… they look a fair match for Aleso- none of them are particularly bulging with muscles.

Saradomin tends to a nasty cut across the paladins chest, he takes in the salient points of Aleso’s story.

“So I ran the first one through, stabbed my scimitar clean through the little blighter, Pelor was at my side- although I did most of the work you understand.”

“Then?” Grand Alf is easily pleased.

“Aaaarrgghhh, I growled. I’m not usually one for growling but it seemed appropriate, I think I said some stuff about Pelor, y’know, PELOR MIGHTY something. PELOR WILL NOT SUFFER whatever, that kinda thing.”

“What happened?”

“Little bugger damned near sliced me open.”

He shows his fading scar, Saradomin’s magic is doing its work.


“Well that’s when Rattler starts up; alas all he did was get in the way. The other two Goblins were over the wall by now and on him in seconds, smashed to pieces- no stamina, no backbone- least not anymore.”


The record skips.

DM’s interlude, Aleso is telling the truth, mostly, so far, but the death of Rattler went a little like this-

Aleso leaps back, too late, and is sliced by the Goblin’s spear; Rattler animates lurches to attack the Goblin as the other two creatures are over the wall and onto the skeleton. The first stabs but Rattler slithers sideways, it misses. The second new arrival stabs, slither, he’s out of the way again. Rattler’s claw stretches out and down and slices into the face of the Goblin attacking Aleso.

The paladin grins, lances his scimitar into the air, and screams.


He brings his scimitar round in a furious arc, passing clear over the Goblin’s head by three feet or more, but… connects with Rattlers skull, which shatters. The skeleton folds and is no more.

DM’s interlude ends here- back to reality.

“So I slice down, one of them loses an arm, skitters onto the floor- I said HA HA, I said, HA HA, I said- you’ll like this- I said, I’VE DISARMED YOU, NOW SURRENDER.”

Grand Alf nods, no- he doesn’t get the joke, yes- he is still listening.


Aleso leaps to his feet, knocking Saradomin over in the effort, unleashes his scimitar- slices at the air in front of him, left and right.

“Then I stab at the next fiend, I swear to you here and now, I saw the signs of vestigial horns- Demonic, mark my words.”

Aleso nods knowingly, Grand Alf’s mouth a perfect “O”.

“And in the same motion mind, I cleaved… cleft… cleavered, that’s it cleavered the last beast. Which had eight-arms, did I mention that?”

Dartamor looks again at the four Goblin corpses; one of them was armed with what looks to be a ladle, he shrugs- not his problem.

Grand Alf bursts into applause, claps the paladin on the back, back to applauding, back to patting.

Aleso holds up his hands, “it was nothing- Pelor guides my sword, although, as I say, he couldn’t have done it without me.”

Meepo grimaces and gets on with making himself a new necklace of ears- that’s how fashions start.

The party play catch-up, Grand Alf tells the tale of the Queen Rat.

“It was massive, easy as big as this room, as long that is, and tall… as big as a… Oliphant- bigger.”

Grand Alf goes all misty eyed.

“And that was… <SNIFF> that was when… <SNIFFLE> that was when… “
He breaks down and sobs.

Saradomin tentatively snakes an arm round the Sorcerer’s shoulders, squeezes, whispers at the bemused others.

“Bonesy died.”

Saradomin shrugs as Grand Alf bawls and drips snot.

And the finding of the missing party member.

“Poor Krackers… still we took his ring- should be a reward in it from that Nacker character.”
“Nackle, Corky Nackle.” Saradomin corrects him, but leaves a lot more unsaid.

Dartamor tells tails of the Kobold Queen, and shows Grand Alf, then Saradomin, the scroll, the latter identifies it and tucks it away for later use.

“And that’s all she gave you?”

Saradomin enquires.

“Yep. And she told me we’d better return with Cornflakes- or else the Gnome gets it.”
“Bloody heathen creature. I’ve a good mind to go back there… Why didn’t you protest” Aleso is infuriated.
“Cos there was twenty of them- didn’t like the odds.” Dartamor replies.

They look around, ready themselves for the journey, but before the off.

“My turn, hand it over.” Aleso, hand out, to Dartamor.
“Fire Potion- my turn next.”

Reluctantly Dartamor hands over the flask, the paladin tucks it away for safe keeping, and they’re off.

First off they investigate the guardroom the last four Goblins vacated, it’s a mess- nothing doing, there’s a corridor to a door but for now they give it a miss. Head back into the crenulated wall chamber and through another door and into a store room with crates to the ceiling- some of them have writing on.

“Elf Pudding?”

Dartamor translates.

“Pudding, for Elves.” He decides.

Gleefully he jemmies open a crate and inside discovers hundreds of small black disks of… crumbly stuff with what look to be cubes of fat in. He goes to take a bite.

“Noooooooo.” Saradomin screams.
“Elf Pudding. Like Black Pudding- congealed cakes of… blood.”

Dartamor drops the thing, turns and heaves. The others look elsewhere, anywhere but at Dartamor. Thirty seconds later he’s back, and fizzing.

“Right that’s it- we get the dragon, take it back to the Kobolds, then we come back here and kill the lot of them.”
“Agreed.” Grand Alf likes the sound of that.
“All of them.”
Grand Alf nods.

Aleso and Saradomin stay out of it.

Dartamor uses all his guile and thieves craft to kick the next door open. It leads into a long smoky hall, torches burn at odd intervals, a set of columns heads off into the distance; it’s a mirror of the Kobold Queen’s home. Once again dragon carved pillars, ancient, filthy- the Goblin’s home perhaps.

There are two doors to the right, the group heads over, except a sulking Meepo who fills his pockets with Elf Pudding.

The first door has a puddle of water before it- it’s coming from the other side.


Dartamor sets to work, it’s locked, a minute later, it’s not. The door swings open into a winter wonderland. The chamber beyond, about twenty five feet to the other side, it’s a mess, overturned tables and chairs, the walls hung with a variety of hunting trophies, heads on plaques sprout from the walls. Odd though- there are three or four Kobolds, a Dire Rat or two, and a… Cow, they’re all badly damaged. Everything is covered in a glistening coat of ice.

“Brrrrr. Freezing.” Aleso comments. He goes to step in.
“Wait.” Saradomin restrains him, “ask Meepo what sort of dragon Cornflakes is.”
Dartamor turns back to Meepo, who’s caught up at last- pushing to try and see what’s going on.

“What sort o’ Dragon is Cornflakes?”
“A white one.”

Dartamor turns back to Saradomin, “he says, a white one.”
“Bugger. Watch yourselves, White Dragons breath ice.” Saradomin finishes the conversation.


A sound like an upside-down duck.

“A Drake?” Aleso goes to step in, and is stopped again by Saradomin- he points.

Fifteen feet in, balanced on the back of a chair is Cornflakes- a ten inch tall White Dragon.


“Careful does it.” Saradomin states, no use. Meepo barges through a sea of legs and rushes into the room, arms outstretched before him.


He slips, lands face first, CLUNK, and is out cold in an instant.

His impetus carries him sliding on- everybody, including Cornflakes, watches his progress. He thumps into the chair, Cornflakes wavers; the chair falls, the dragon half-plummet half-flies, lands, and then bites a chunk out of the hapless Kobold’s backside.


Dinner, it seems, has arrived.

“Wait here.” Dartamor pushes off and slides into the room. The audience watches. He switches to Draconic the language of the Dragons, and the Kobolds.

“Calm down. Calm down.”

The dragon flutters its wings, stalks the fallen Kobold’s body, and squats at Meepo’s ankles.

“Come ‘ed.” Dartamor murmurs.
“Come ‘ed Cornflakes. We arl arse yous nah 'arm, we don’t wanna rag you- juss ter take yous back ter de laughin kobolds, ter Meepo. Whuz yous tinnie 'uv jelly and biscuits and… worever it is yous eat- rats, batties o' sound, mmmm, rats.”

Cornflakes thinks about it.

DMs interlude- Dartamor, as so often happens, rolls a “20”- diplomacy, bluff whatever it is he’s trying, he’s succeeding.


The little dragon takes to the air, flaps once- badly, and crash lands on Dartamor’s head, struggles to stay upright for a moment, as Dartamor straightens up, and then gets settled.


A pea-sized snowball nestles in the half-elf’s hair.

Dartamor shuffles round, and skates back to the doorway, steps back into the smoke filled chamber; Cornflakes still nestled on his head.

“Shhhh don’t disturb him. Someone grab Meepo and let’s...”

A door bangs open ahead of them.

“So I ses tha’s not me wyffe, tha’s a bluddy cow…” They’re spotted. The two Goblins stop short.

“Kill them- kill them badly.” Dartamor makes it clear.

Saradomin, Grand Alf and Aleso leap into the fray.




The Goblins are dead in seconds.

Meepo is soon recovered and the gaggle of loonies follows Dartamor, at a distance, who balances Cornflakes on his head all the way, back to Isdrayl.

Next time- Durnn, Goblin Chief, & Top Farter.
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Richard Rawen

First Post
Goonalan said:
Thanks for that Richard, think I've got it sorted now.
Glad to help!
Goonalan said:
“Elf Pudding?”

Dartamor translates.

“Pudding, for Elves.” He decides.
Laughed out loud... such Infallible Logic!
Goonalan said:
He slips, lands face first, CLUNK, and is out cold in an instant.

His impetus carries him sliding on- everybody, including Cornflakes, watches his progress. He thumps into the chair, Cornflakes wavers; the chair falls, the dragon half-plummet half-flies, lands, and then bites a chunk out of the hapless Kobold’s backside.


Dinner, it seems, has arrived.
I loved watching this happen in my mind... :)
Goonalan said:
DMs interlude- Dartamor, as so often happens, rolls a “20”- diplomacy, bluff whatever it is he’s trying, he’s succeeding.
Isn't that just the sh*ts? I've had players roll three consecutive 20's, take out the big bad evil guy in one swing (with obscene critical hit table rolls), and then look at me like, well, what else've ya got?
Goonalan said:
Next time- Durnn, Goblin Chief, & Top Farter.
I very much look forward to it! I'm copying your SH to my friends via email - soon the Lost Boys will be in homes all over the world, spreading through the insidious network of the "forward".

Richard Rawen said:
I very much look forward to it! I'm copying your SH to my friends via email - soon the Lost Boys will be in homes all over the world, spreading through the insidious network of the "forward".

I'd have thought it'd be far easier to just send them a link to the thread, thus giving them the opportunity to poke about and see if anything else strikes thier funny bone, or maybe just make witty comments like the rest of us do. Perhaps a group mail saying 'Oh, new update' now 'n again should it be needed.


I have to ask, how much of the dialog is actual 'round-the-table' player chatter, vs some DM/Author 'interpretation of actions'?

I hope you intend to send the Lost Boys through the Forge of Fury, I definately enjoyed that module even more than I liked Sunless Citadel.

Definately one of the best and funniest Story Hours out there, at least partly due to the 'brit-ness' of the phrasing. I don't claim to understand all the idiom, but that part of the fun, figuring it out or filling it in via imagination.

PS: Directly under this (below the line) is my "Sig"(nature). Those go at the bottom of every post I make, and I'd be willing to try and walk you through setting one up with a linky to this thread.
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Hatchling Dragon-

I have to ask, how much of the dialog is actual 'round-the-table' player chatter, vs some DM/Author 'interpretation of actions'?

I fill in the gaps, and go upmarket with the language when needed, the best bit is these guys have no idea what their characters are capable of- hence Alex playing the Paladin doesn't want to get him scratched at times, while James playing Grand Alf wants to get dirty all the time, although I've had to (in-game) try and filter out some of the craziness. Saradomin, played by Pat is sensible, into everything but fond of letting others take the lead; whereas Jake, who plays Dartamor, is a one-man-band with a steady stream of what to do next.

As to the play, everything is more-or-less as it happened.

The problem is we only get to play every so often, probably once a month, or every three weeks or so. The next game is not for another week or more so I'm filling in the gaps a little- there's only been three sessions so far, I just break them down into snippets and write them up when I get a chance.

As for the brit-ness, can't be helped, I know no other way- glad you're sticking with it though, and thanks for the plaudits.

I have got two other games going, or rather, my brother and his wife Jules just popped down and completed Dungeon Crawl Classics #1 Idylls of the Rat King, with some strange characters I conjured at a moment’s notice- I may write that up. I'll not say too much in case I do get round to writing it, just that the characters are called Auntie Edie and The Professor.

Also there's another game which I'm definitely going to write up, six characters, funny-ish (I hope), they're all 0th level and the players each have twenty plus years gaming experience (except one, another newbie). Hopefully this one will take off, get played more often, and make it easier for me; some of them are already typecast and eminently quotable.

As to the Forge of Fury, I love it- it'd be excellent but my first job is hook these critters in with The Sunless Citadel, the object is to get to the end and print it up for James, Alec, Jake & Pat- spiral bound, that kind of thing, a memento of their first adventure. Fingers-crossed some time in the future they'll want some more.

Thanks again, I'll post this and see if the Sig thing works, I really am a computer idiot, I love this box of lights but can I remember how to make it do stuff- can I heck.

Oh and some of the dialogue, the accented stuff- Kobolds and Goblins, so far, is done through an on-line translator. Kobolds are scousers (sons and daughters of Liverpool), while the Goblins are from Yorkshire.

Courtesy of the above site.

Again, thanks.


Well they've changed things around a bit, but it shouldn't be too hard to get your Sig set up. I'll try to do this step-by-step and put the links and such in bold type to make it easier to tell what I'm talking about.

First you have to be logged in, it should say Welcome, Goonalan in the upper right.

Now go to your thread, just the standard link in the Story Hour Forums. Now Left Click once in the "Address" bar, the box where you normaly type in a site name you want to go to, this should make the entire line of text turn to the blue background and white text. If not just left-click at one end of the long address and, HOLDING the left mouse, drag it to the ight until you're at the right end, then release the left button and it should be white on blue. Once that's done you right-click and choose the Copy option.

Now look at the top and click on My Account

A bit over half-way down you should see Edit my Signature, click this

In here you want to see Guided Mode selected, it should be that way by default or you can click in the white circle to the immediate left of it. Next click in the big text box below that. This is where it gets fun, and the system will hold your hand through it all.

Whatever I have in Italics just type in verbatim (including spaces), and text in this color is a button/icon/linky to click, typicaly followed by more italics text to type in. To see what an icon does, just put the mouse over it and a tool-tip (small text box) will appear telling you the name of that function.

Follow the antics of my newest young Adventurers in Insert Hyperlink (looks like a blue ball/globe with 8 lying on it's side). The Cursor should be in position in a box that's popped up, type The Lost Boys, then hit Enter. Now, in the next box just right-click next to the cursor and choose Paste, then hit Enter again.

At the bottom you just click on Save Signature and you're done. Post a reply and see if it works!


Nope, did everything you said- on the preview Sig it had the text and the URL address type thing- still nothing.

I've just previewed this post before submitting it and it looks like this-

Nope, did everything you said- on the preview Sig it had the text and the URL address type thing- still nothing.
Follow the antics of my newest young Adventurers in The Lost Boys

And yet...

Richard Rawen

First Post
Any chance you have Sigs disabled in your options?

Up at the top, click the drop down menu for "My Account"

Choose "My User Control Panel"

Choose "Edit Options" from the menu on the left side...

Under the third block, titled "Thread Display Options"
There's an option for "Show Signatures"

It's a bit of a stretch, however, as it is default to checked (as it should be)
But, if it is unchecked, then check it and maybe that will help????

Grasping at straws here... perhaps we can poke an Admin and see what's what.


I think you've cracked it- sorta, it was-

These additional post elements can be turned on or off by selecting them (These settings won't be processed by the server until after the next forum upgrade - they're being installed now for functionality testing)
Don't Show Thread Previews
Don't show Post Icons
Don't Show New Threads in Bold
Don't Show Subscribed Threads in Italics
Show User Signatures More Than Once per Page
Show Display Options on Top

Second one up, Show User Signatures More Than Once per Page - bloody marvelous. I feel I've learnt something.

Thanks all- top work, maybe now I can get back to writing.

Thanks Richard, thanks Hatchling (hope you don't mind me using your first name).


Thanks all what with Sig thing fixed I feel the need to carry on...

Turn 3.5

Warning dear reader the epistle below has a high broad Yorkshire accent content, for those uninitiated in the mysteries of the Yorkshire dialect then the following may help you along the road.

Warnin eh up reada t' epistle bela 'as eur 'igh broad Yorksha accent content, for those uninitiated int' mysteries o' t' Yorksha accen'tli' then t' followin may 'elp theur along t' ruwad.

This is of course because a vast majority of the Goblinoid races come from Yorkshire- you were all thinking it, I’ve just gone that extra mile and said it.

Dis is o' course 'cos eur vast majority o' t' Goblinoid races belong Yorkshire- theur wor orl thinkin it, I’ve just gone 'a' extreur mile 'n sez it.

Bloody hell- stop that.

Bloody 'ell- gi'o'a 'a'.

Durnn, Goblin Chief, & Top Farter.​

Durnn, a face like thunder, creases furrow his Hobgoblin brow, his piggy eyes tight shut, sits on his throne and… What is he doing? Grenl, a third of Durnn’s size, Goblin priestess of Maglubiyet, the Lord of Depths and Darkness, stands close to her chieftain waiting, expectant.

Around the circular chamber other Goblins and Hobgoblins shuffle, avoiding, as best they can, the sight of their chief. Time stretches, nothing moves, except perhaps the spiky bush in a plant pot by the throne- there is no breeze here however.



Durnn quickly reaches between his legs, scoops and cups quickly catching the fart smell, and just as swiftly stretches out his hollowed hands to Grenl, opens them slightly as Grenl edges her nose into the gap in his hands.


Grenl straightens, too quickly, takes a woozy step back to steady herself, still several feet away from the cavernous hole in the chambers floor that stretches down into the dark and unknown depths, a ring of tendril like lianas outline the inky abyss.

Grenl closes her eyes, blinks them open once or twice, all trance-like, then suddenly snaps them open again- stares hard at her master, she has her answer.

“You’ve bin eyting…”

Durnn leans forward.

“Thy favourite- 'uman.”


Durnn chuckles and nods- she’s good, the priestess, never wrong.


He lets another one go, clacks his mouth open and shut, tastes the stink in the air- Human, his favourite food.


The massive double doors swing open- a Goblin pokes his head into the chamber, it’s Ringpull Fliptop, a lowly guard. He staggers into the room- creeps forward, then sights his chieftain and falls to his knees. He’s out of breath, or else very nervous, taking huge gulps of air.

“Lut, ah av dire news.”

Durnn looks up, notices Ringpull.


Ringpull looks around, in search of friends- he finds none.

“T' Dragon… it’s bin teken.”


Durnn leaps off his throne, the bloodstained chest he uses as a footrest rocks back and forth.


He charges up to Ringpull, grabs him roughly- drags him to his feet and up, face to face, Ringpull’s feet dangle at least two feet from the floor. Ringpull looks left, the never ending darkness of the hole, it would be easy for Durnn to just throw him in.

“It wor teken, adventurers- 'eear int' Citadel, thee tuk t' Dragon- 'eaded off, teur t' Kobahds- 'Amfield… ah think.”


“Thee killed many… menny, many… a alsooarts.”

“'N 'a did theur cum ta kna dis?”

“Ah saw 'em, ah wor 'iding- thee nivva saw uz. 'onest. even t' Elf.”


Durnn rumbles then settles for a low chuckle, he pivots round, Ringpull now dangles fully over the abyss.

“'A menny?”

“Er… fowa, neya five- thee 'ed eur Kobowd wi' 'em.”

“Wha' did thee skeg li'?”

“Elf wor warrior, ah think, or sneyty, don’t kna which, t' leader- 'e issued orders. 'E 'ed t' dragon on 'is 'ead- it liked 'im. Tincan- warrior, gormless lookin, summa' unda nose, not 'air- li' slug. Anotha tincan, scruffy looking- could be priest, dunnoa why, think. Last, tall wi' pointy noggin, wooar eur frock wi' star 'n moon on, could be lady, neya 'andbag though.”

“'Un Elf- t' others?”

“'Uman- orl o' others. 'Uman.”

Durnn stretches his arm out, right over the black hole, shakes Ringpull violently.


“'Onest. 'Onest. Swear by Maglab… Magliy… Maglayby… Grenl, swear on priestess. ‘Onest.”

Durnn swings hard around, Ringpull still in hand, drops the terrified Goblin on solid ground, Ringpull quickly struggles to his feet.

“Gerr t' others, we nip on …”

Ringpull goes to skedaddle, Durnn launches out an arm- stops him.

He rises to his full height, looks fierce, and goes all googly-eyed.


Durnn looks down at Ringpull, who covers his face with his hands.


Ringpull chances a look, Durnn is inches from his face.


Ringpull gulps.

“Theur av Lut?”


“Gerr others, nip on. Tahhm ea', favourite- 'Uman. We kill Kobahds tooa, for once 'n for orl. Evatown smash 'Amfield.” Durnn announces.

Ringpull scurries off as Durnn strides back to his throne, motions to Grenl, the Goblin priestess sidles up, all teeth- grinning.

“'Umans, twoa fert Ahtcast, 'un for me- sem as afowa.”
“'N t' Elf?”

Durnn grins.


He stands up quickly, and is off again towards the door, the guards swiftly fall in line.


Pushes the huge doors open.


The assembled Goblins chant- ready for war. Durnn waves an arm, signals silence. His warriors obey.

“Cum, we nip on.”

And at a run.

The Goblin women and children congregate to watch the army depart, they ululate their farewell to the warrior braves.


The warriors too fill the air with the sounds of their bloodcurdling screams and shouts.

We’re Durnn’s republican army.
We’re barmy.

Whereva we gew.
We fear neya foe.
Because we’re Durnn’s republican army.”

The stomp of the Goblin’s boots and the clash of their weapons on their shields echoes back to the women.

They go to destroy.

Next Turn- Who knows? We’re upto date- anything could happen, pray for TPK.
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Just to say I've started another story hour entitled-

Legends are made, BUUUURP not born. FART. Bugger.

It's about, well, this is wot I wrote-

Here follows another story hour, my main game- you can catch the party of newbies I DM at The Lost Boys Vs. The Sunless Citadel however, go on, you might like it. Unlike that game the players here are much more mature, at least in years and experience. Therefore the language and topics in places may, or may not, get a little fruity. I have, however, at all times, done my best to make sure it is suitable for almost every ear.

And begins with-

Dungeon Crawl Classics #0 Legends are Made, not Born
An Adventure for 0 Level Characters

You may want to check it out, of course you may not- smile, you're nearly there.

And goodnight.

Am I off my noddle, I thought you said that someone died, and that it would be coming up in the Story Hour. Now you've said you're caught up, yet nobody's died. It's a Paradox!


Am I off my noddle, I thought you said that someone died, and that it would be coming up in the Story Hour. Now you've said you're caught up, yet nobody's died. It's a Paradox!

I actually said-

Their first dungeon delve is going great so far- no casualties, oh wait I forgot- the parties best fighter dies some time very soon, so read on.

And I didn't lie, what you don't see when I write these things up are some of the missed roles, so in the big fight, four Goblins vs. Aleso the Paladin we were actually there for ten minutes or so. Aleso's To Hit rolls were something like- 4, 12, 10, 9, 6, 8, 12 and so on, obviously I only write up the good bits.

And Aleso's the best fighter they have, left alive.

They're best fighter was...

Bonesy, Grand Alf's Skellie, in his short undeath he never missed once. Now when you're sat round a table, rolling the dice, that's fairly obvious, particularly when the others can't hit a barn door from two paces, perhaps not so obvious from the story hour, my bad, he was sadly mourned however, James (aged 10 remember) was really not happy when he died.

I thought it might keep a few people reading too.

Thanks, as always.
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Loved it as usual. :)

The Barmy Army joke was fun. Now I'm trying to think which monsters make good Brummies, Mancunians and what have you. ;-)

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