Slain by Elf

Our party was investigating a crypt that led in to some darker tunnels when we came across a room with something quite curious in one of its corners. A five-foot wide pit cut off the corner from the rest of the room, and was wide and deep enough to make getting across a more than trivial task. We wanted to get across the pit because there was something tempting, a chest perhaps, in that corner of the room. Well, it was more hanging in the corner of the room, as it appeared to be suspended a few feet from the ground, motionless. We had no idea what was keeping it suspended above the floor, but we wanted the loot regardless.

The first thing we did was to get closer to the corner to see what mysterious force was holding up the loot, but even then we didn't have the faintest idea what was going on. We started coming up with ideas to get to the loot from the corner. As I was playing an Elven Mage, looking to become an Arcane Archer, one of the ideas I came up with was to send my Raven Familiar, Quoth, across the pit to pick up the loot and bring it back in his talons. This idea wasn't approved as we didn't know the weight of the loot and didn't want it dropped in the pit.

We decided early on that climbing down the pit on this side and back up on the other side just wasn't an option, and we also had nothing physical we could use to bridge the gap. Going out of the crypt and back to the mansion to find a ladder to use as a bridge was not approved, as we didn't want to waste too much time. The idea we finally decided on was for the best jumper in the party to jump the pit, retrieve the loot, and jump back. We tied a rope to him and had other party members hold it so that if there were any problems with him falling in to the pit or getting stuck in what we still thought was probably a magical stasis field we would just use the rope to pull him back. Brilliant! What could go wrong?

Mere moments before the party volunteer was to jump across the pit I called a temporary halt to things, experiencing some sort of pang that we hadn't explored all the options of what was causing the loot to be held in mid-air in the corner of the room. Just to see if it were a force or stasis field, or something else peculiar in effect, I grabbed a handful of dust and grit from the floor of the room and threw it across the pit. To everyone's surprise, as soon as it got across the pit the grit just hung in the air, stationary. This both baffled us and made the volunteer change his mind about jumping across. The party's Fighter was intrigued by the grit just hanging there and got as close as he could to get a better look at just what was occurring here.

And that was the first time we got close enough for a pseudopod of the Gelatinous Cube to be able to lash out at us. Yes, it turned out to be a Gelatinous Cube set-up in the corner of the room as a sort-of trap for unwary adventurers, with the dull light obscuring the Cube from casual detection. The Fighter got a physical smack around the head, and the rest of the party got a virtual slap to wake us all up. A quick bit of ranged fighting later and we were all reflecting on just what would have happened had we followed through on any of our plans without first working out what was in the corner. We could have seen a Familiar or party member 'swallowed' and slowly digested by the Cube. Even then, would we have realised what was going on quickly enough to mount a rescue? Going on the events related here, probably not.

It really is a good thing that we (eventually) looked before we leapt.

The party cautiously entered a rather threatening looking building (mostly it was threatening because of what we suspected what was going on inside, but that it had a large carving of an evil god and the whole building was painted with blood wasn't too welcoming either) and were offered a description of the inside, which included several paintings.

Worried about what we will meet in there, the party is intrigued when we hear the DM describe that 'the painting in that corner is of a beautiful woman, with horn...'

'With horns?!', we cry.

'...ting eyes.' Ah.

We calmed down a little after that and started checking the place out; seeing where the doors led, that sort of thing. While some of us were getting embroiled in a brou-ha-ha with several low-level minions in a side room, our Rogue was finding traps on another door. Note that he was 'finding' traps, not 'searching' for them. We hear the DM inform us of the Rogue's activity, 'You open the door and set off a trap. Everyone in the room...'

'Everyone in the room?!', those in the room exclaim, worried about what the Rogue has stuffed them with, then pausing breathless to be told what saving throw will need to be made.

'...sees the Rogue get engulfed in a fireball.' Ah. We all breathe a collective sigh of relief, even the Rogue, as his natural 20 roll on his Reflex save coupled with Evasion meant that he somehow didn't even singe his beard whilst being in the middle of a fiery ball of doom.

The DM is there to torment us sometimes.

At one point during our travels, we found our very own Daern's Instant Fortress, which makes camping outside to rest for the night relatively safe, as we are ensconced within an Adamantine building protected by magically sealed doors. Only the Cleric, who found the command words and bonded with the item, can open or close the doors, so baddies can't get in while we doze peacefully. And, in general, this works very well.

Camping in the swamp, on a section of land that we had tested to have good foundations by having our Mage jump around on it for a bit, we slept in the fortress. We had posted watches throughout the night, just to be on the safe side, with the character on watch stalking around the inside of the fortress, checking if anything untowards was happening outside through the various arrow slits the fortress provides. On the watch of the Fighter some Harpies turn up and start singing. Our Fighter, taking over the mantle from the previous player who failed any saving throw that he possibly could, was instantly charmed by these vicious creatures and drawn to them. But, hey, the rest of us weren't too worried, realising that even though he couldn't wake us up in his charmed state to aid him neither could he get out of the fortress to be chewed to death, as only the Good Cleric can open the doors.

And that was when the DM asked us all to roll to see if we were woken up by the Harpies' singing. The Cleric boldly rolled first and, just as his die came up on a fantastic natural 20, we were told that we needed to roll 'low'. Arse. The Cleric was the only other character to be awoken, but he wasn't worried. With his huge Will Save he could surely resist the Harpies' lure. Needing 2 or above to make his saves he confidently rolled his die to make the saving throw. And got a 1. Dammit.

So not only were the only two party members who were awake both charmed by the Harpies' singing, but one of them was the only person who could open the door to the fortress. Which he did, and the two of them wandered outside. As luck would have it, and we needed some at that point, both the Fighter and the Cleric snapped out of their stupors when they started to wade in to the water, at which point they rushed back inside and got the door closed. One Harpy was foolish enough to fly in before the door was closed, but a few well-placed arrows persuaded her to leave us alone.

Still, Daern's Instant Fortress remains a good item to own. In principle.

During the battle with the monster, after the Fireball was only a Fireball (to the chagrin of the Mage), our boatman and guide through the swamp was hit by a Magic Missile spell. We all watch the points of light come from the monster and hit the boatman solidly in the chest, sending him slumping to the ground from his injuries.

Our Rogue checks to see if the boatman is still breathing and tells our Cleric that he needs healing. The Cleric, clearly happy to have such subtle injuries pointed out to him, replies, 'Yeah, thanks for letting me know'.

Next week, our Rogue tells the Fighter that the Orcs charging towards us need to be hit with a greatsword.

Continuing our adventure, our party was heading through a swamp, travelling in a boat. At a few points we had to get out of the boat and carry it up to 100 feet across a small patch of land so that we could continue our journey in the water on the other side. At one of these times, we were attacked by a monster, one which we had all ready encountered and scared off once. Our Mage decided to take care of things, and started to cast a Fireball.

Evidently, he had forgotten that during our trip we had occasionally seen small flames erupt from the marsh land around us, as marsh gases ignited, letting out a small 'pop' in the process. Letting loose a Fireball put us all in some danger of being in the middle of a huge explosion, as marsh gas from all around ignited. It would be our Mage's home-brew version of an Enhanced Fireball.

As fortune would have it, the Fireball didn't end up causing an area around us the size of a small town to be engulfed in a ball of flamy doom; we kept our eyebrows and beards, and the Mage kept his spell book from being thrown in to the swamp.

This tale is not too old, but it is still likely to surprise most of the current players. I relate it because it is unlikely that anything can come of it now and the player who is at the centre of what happened is unable to continue playing with us for the forseeable future, which is a shame. Bert, this one's for you.

Our party had defeated some baddies and were looting the place, which we take to be our right upon a victorious battle. Part of the loot turned out to be some scrolls of Nightmare, an evil, necromantic spell. 'Oh, this just won't do. We definitely shouldn't use these, and we couldn't possibly sell them on so that others could use the scrolls on innocent people', said our Good Cleric. Our Good Rogue agreed; 'we must dispose of them', he added. Even our financially-motivated Mage, master of double-entry bookkeeping, begrudgingly agreed, although he had to be reminded that he was Good and that his pseudo-dragon Familiar may take exception to any other course of action from him. 'Yeah, whatever', I think were his precise words. The protestations of our Chaotic Fighter and my Monkish Neutrality fell on deaf ears, with the others refusing to sell them on for profit with the rest of the loot that we couldn't use. Bah.

The scrolls were thus put in to the party's pool of general loot holding overnight, supervised by the Mage, and were taken out and destroyed the next morning.

Or so they thought.

Unbeknownst to the rest of us, the Fighter had other plans for the scrolls. He got up during the night and quietly and carefully exchanged the scrolls in the pool of general loot holding for some useless parchment, with the odd scribble on it so that it looked 'authentic'. Only I, with my stupidly high Spot check, noticed him doing this and just gave him a nod and a wink at the time. This was good for the Fighter, because I had no inclination to shop him to the rest of the party and destroy the scrolls. On the other hand, it was bad for the Fighter, because I wanted a cut of the money from selling them. The other party members remained blissfully unaware as to what he did, destroying worthless pieces of parchment in the morning, and the Fighter and I managed to get some time in the nearby town to sell the scroll and split the proceeds amongst the two of us. Score!

Sorry, chaps.

It was the concluding week of the Arcana Unearthed mini-adventure, with the three characters striking out to retrieve a vital object that held the fates of a whole village and its people. Maybe it was because we were playing with pre-generated characters that came with the adventure, or maybe because no one wanted to play the Akashic character with its skill-based class, but it seemed to be a case of the blind leading the blind. Not only did the party fail to see three dead monsters 'hidden' in a clump of grass next to the road they were walking on, but the first they knew of a pit, which was in a doorway, 10-feet wide and uncovered, was when the Mage Blade scampered forwards and fell headlong in to it. This wasn't so much failing a Spot check as perhaps thinking that relying on touch would be a better way to perceive the environment. It worked, but it turned out to be a bit more painful than using one's sight.

After clambering out the pit to join his comrades, now embroiled in a fight with the enemy, the Mojh Mage Blade started attacking. He pulled out his sword and smote a nearby foe, hitting for a good amount of damage for a short sword: 5 points of damage from a D6. He then remembered that he wasn't using a short sword but a long sword, but didn't want to reroll the damage inflicted, fearing that he wouldn't get anywhere near as much damage when rolling a D8. I guess he tapped in to some collective unconscious, letting him recall a time when a Fighter rolled more on a D4 than a simultaneously-rolled D20.

It all worked out in the end, with our heroes managing to retrieve the stolen artefact and return it to the village whence it came.

We were a couple of players down this week, so we played another small adventure outside of the normal campaign. This time, we played an Arcana Unearthed adventure, and I was the DM instead of a player. The adventure is straightforward enough and was written to be used for conventions, so it was easy to get in to and play using the pre-generated characters. We ended up with a Loresong Faen Magister, a Mojh Mage Blade, and a Giant Champion of Life. A motley crew, if ever I saw one.

The first encounter, with an impromptu ambush, went well enough. Well, it did for me, at least. But the Faen was unfortunate to be in the thick of things when having the worst armour and fewest hit points, as he found himself to be closest to two of the monsters who too-quickly managed to knock him unconscious. The Mage Blade, whilst defending himself, was able to revive the Faen Magister quickly enough, but the Magister had to be reminded that perhaps it would be best to live up to his race and feign (haw haw! 'Faen'!) dying still so that he didn't look like a threat, otherwise his handful of Hit Points would probably be replaced by a far larger negative number, as the monsters loomed over him, and he'd have to pick a new character.

Nevertheless, everyone managed to survive the encounter and make it in to the adventure proper. From there we were able to get some role playing done and the party was able to work out what had gone on in the village and what they had to do to save everyone. Next week: the conclusion.

The party, which included Greebo the Cleric, were hot on the trail of our quest item, and we thought we were getting close to it. At this stage we had to explore a tower in a desert region, and had descended to the lower realms to search for the next bit of the puzzle. We found ourselves in one of the inner rooms and were a bit surprised and slightly a-feared when it turned out that we faced a young Blue Dragon in the same room as us. And it wasn't friendly.

Our Rogue won the Initiative and got the jump on everyone, shooting the dragon and trying to stay out of its reach. He had the clever idea of hiding behind me 'for cover'. Well, I call it 'clever' but I'm clearly being sarcastic, as a Gnome is not the best thing to hide behind for cover, even at the best of times. It is made worse when faced by a Blue Dragon; you know, the ones that can breathe Lightning Bolts. 'Hiding' behind me just put the two of us in a neat line that made it very easy for the Dragon to hit the both of us with one breath, which is exactly what it did. Had we both not then been unconscious on the ground, I'm sure I would have found a way to thank the Rogue for his cunning strategy.

With two members of the party down for the count and the Dragon not even scratched, the Barbarian saw her duty and came to our rescue. Such bravery, such derring-do! She rushed in to save us, muscles rippling, sword at the ready, in typical Barbarian fashion: she dropped to her knees and begged for mercy. Brave, brave, brave, brave Sir Robin!

During another mini-adventure, when we were a player or two down and played something other than the then-current campaign, I rolled up my stats and created a Human Fighter specialising in two-weapon fighting. It was a low-level adventure, so the character started at first level, and was accompanied by two other first level characters rolled up by the other players. My Figher had the Feats that made him adept at wielding both a long sword and a short sword at the same time, sacrificing the protection of a shield for more attacks.

We started the adventure in, unsurprisingly, an inn, where we all sat minding our own business enjoying a drink or two. Something rowdy started up, with some fellow quite rudely insulting a waitress. Well, my character was going to have none of that, so I stood up and went over to this ruffian to give him a piece of my mind and protect the honour and safety of the waitress. We went straight in to Initiative, which I managed to lose, and the bad guy got the first swing at me. Despite being good at fighting with two-swords and being honourable I was hardly the luckiest chap around, as this first swing by the bad guy hit me and hit me well: he scored a Critical Hit. With so much damage inflicted upon me I lost more than the Initiative, I lost my life. I dropped like a bag of spuds, with no chance of getting back up again. Waah!

There wasn't much I could do. My character was dead in the first round of the first fight, without even rolling any dice. The fight had to, and did, rage on without me. In the mean time, I took my second set of stats that I rolled, which weren't as good as the set I used to create my character, and created a second character for the adventure. I was able to finish the creation quite quickly, basing the new character on the one just killed, making him another Fighter with two-weapon fighting skills. I was able to walk in to the inn just as the fight finished and asked if anyone had seen my better-looking, more skilful brother, only to be shown his limp body on the floor, blood all around but no longer being pumped out of him. A quick, but obviously tearful, burial later and we were in to the adventure again as a party.

I later found out that had I not been felled straight away I would have picked up some bonus Experience Points for standing up for the waitress's honour. I'm sure my ghost would have appreciated that.