Devilish Incursion

DM-47, PCs-3

When last we left our valiant troupe of adventurers, they had recently vanquished towering pillar of sand aided and abetted by an otherwise mundane assassin. Despite Recke’s attempt at dramatically disemboweling his assailant by assuming the form of a hideous beast from beyond the pale, Im completely stole his thunder by landing on the dude’s head, as Ims are wont to do. Silently fuming, Recke pressed on, with the rest of the group.

Leaving this room behind, the company stumbled into a vast chamber, open to the air above (but not on purpose). Recke spied some figures on the far distant horizon — one gigantic one surrounded by several fearful, normal-sized people. How he did this, no one had any idea, since these figures were hours from here. Apparently, sitting in dark ship cabins reading books all the time gives you fucking eagle eyes. Anyway, this sounded like an obvious clue to those involved, so they all started tromping in that direction. They got about ten feet before trouble set in, which, at this point, is actually pretty good progress, considering. Aros took the first hit, and felt an icy grasp that numbed his mind. He was blind to his attacker, as were his companions. After some wild sword swings and some frosty conjuring, the mage-slayer was able to bring about a refuge for his party to gain some respite. Their ice-cream headaches finally past, the remaining members of Zefiyas — wait, no, they all died or got left behind in an earlier session. Anyway, everybody bravely and stupidly left their hidey-hole to confront their unseen attackers. And promptly got their asses handed to them, especially Im, who wasn’t that bright to begin with.

After a further retreat into a pocket plane, Aros, Recke, and Amon devised a plan. Recke would cut a finger from Im’s sword hand, take his Totally Eighties Jazzercise Sweat Band, and teleport himself out of there. Aros and Amon would fly out, with Aros bravely recovering Im’s remains and bearing them back to the airship for proper burial. It kind of worked out like that, with Amon takining off, and Aros getting more ice-cream headaches before dropping Im’s body like the useless luggage it was and getting the hell out. Once he got back to the ship, Amon communicated — via some very complex hand gestures — that they were going to forget the idea of completing their duty, and just bug out back to Winterwall. Aros offered to pilot the ship, so that they would get there in one piece. Amon just glared.

Three weeks later, Aros landed the ship SAFELY at Winterwall, much to everyone’s amazement, since they had never seen an airship land safely before, and were unaware such a thing could be done. Aros and Amon went to the head of the guard, mostly so Aros could learn just what the hell was going on, since he’d only recently moved to Escartum from Eberron. Amon didn’t have much to say. Fortunately, Recke was doing something useful, like getting Father Derrick to bring Im back. Unfortunately, Father Derrick also put Recke and Amon under a Geas, forcing them to ‘finish what they had started.’ Oh, also, Amon had to ‘pay for services rendered.’ Aros thought this was pretty funny, since he was totally and bad-assedly unaffected by Father Derrick’s shenanigans.

With no other choice but to comply, Amon, Aros, and Reck all jumped back aboard the airship, and flew another three weeks back to the gorge in the desert, making their fifteen minute stop at Winterwall one of the biggest wastes of time to date. On the trip back, Aros completely embarassed a naked Im by soundly and flawlessly beating him at a duel, as well as somehow having larger genitalia. Im said it was because he was cold, but c’mon, the guy’s over seven feet tall and lives in the mountains. He should be used to the cold. All that aside, once the ship landed, the four of them got back to work, hiking through the gorge, this time up to where Recke last saw all those figures in the distance. They were gone, of course, because it had been almost two months since the party was last here. Amon and Aros, bored with the relative calm and total lack of death in the past few days, found a nice patch of quicksand and jumped in. The quicksand, to their delight, was actually a monstrous sand elemental. Battle ensued, and resulted in Amon and Aros being buried somewhere in five hundred tons of elemental. After some quick math, Im decided that he wasn’t holding Amon’s rope afterall, and spent the next ten minutes digging a small hole in search of his friend and captain. Recke, quickly grasping the gravity of the situation, did what any good magic user would do: turn into a giant fucking dinosaur and kick some sandy ass. Despite horrible luck, he eventually found both Amon and Aros, and was able to excavate them.

Moving boldly onward, the squad of heroes moved into the trapezoid, reassured by Amon that despite the name, there were no actual traps. There was, however a long hallway bisected by a passageway that led to two rooms. One was empty, while the other had some sort of werewolf accompanied by a cleric of too-high caster level for the party to fight. This was quickly proven as Aros, the anti-spell-casting dynamo was quickly immobilized and stabbed in the throat, resulting in a relatively disappointing death scene. Everyone else took advantage of this, and quickly dispatched the remaining foes, safe in the knowledge that the loot would only be split three ways. Then, after some mucking about with a door made of body parts (wtf?), they ascended a spiral stair case to a room full of mooks and false gods. Well, false god. There was a lot of debate, and arguing about who was good and who was not, and basically what happened was nobody knew who was on first, so the party started killing everybody. They held off killing someone claiming to be Anubis, the jackal-headed Egyptian (Ed: Khemitian) god of death. While he never really proved himself, Im at least went along with it for shits and giggles, and wrestled him in to submission before letting him go. Amon, pissed off that Im didn’t at least give Jojo the jackal-faced boy a noogie before releasing him, tried to make off with all of his phat lewt, with the help of Recke. Predictably, Amon died and Recke went temporarily insane.

Flying Shark! A vicious aerial killing machine! Flying Crocodile! An equally aerial killing machine! They will battle in a battle where there can be no winner! Who will win? Tune in next time to find out! Watch, I say! Watch it all!


I saw that Aaron edited the post, so I re-read the whole damn thing, only to find out that he only added one word and an abbreviation. Dammit!

DM-47, PCs-3

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