Last time, the party had taken on a group of bandits in an alleyway. There was a note on one of the corpses, suggesting that they are being watched…

As the party heads toward the Adventurer's Guild, the party is under the skeptical gaze of the crowd. Nearing the guild itself, the guards approach the party.

“Please state where you've been, to be covered in so much blood.” One guardsman demands.

“We've been mugged,”

“We can take you to the bodies,”

“We've done nuffin' wrong.” The party remarks over one another.

The guard seems satisfied, “We've had some trouble here lately, your story checks out. Proceed.”

The party slinks forth into the vast grandeur of the Adventurer's Guild. Having already done all of the necessary shopping, the party decides to beeline straight to the dungeon.

The Hallway of Heroes is the entrance to the dungeon, a dimly lit passage made from large blocks of quarried stone. Passing through, the faint chatter from adventurers is heard as the other parties are strategizing their descent.

The Grand Labyrinth of Tristram

There is a large room hosting a portal to either side, flanked by guards. The party heads toward the portal on the right, but Hargle waddles obliviously to the one on the left. Awkwardly, the party changes course and follows the stumpy dwarf.

The portal is about ten feet wide, so the party holds hands and crosses into the first floor together.

Passing through, the party feels as though a thin veil passes over them, and the light from the previous room fades away entirely. Walking down the passage, one can hardly see more than a few feet ahead. Despite this, they notice some stones in the floor that stick out like a sore thumb.

They all look at the stone and know it seems like a trap. The floor seems like it will fall away with the slightest pressure. Hargle, having one seen something similar in a fairy toothpaste ad once, decides to [misty step] and transports himself about 30 feet forward.

Heywood, confident he can clear the floor with one clean jump, gets a running start. At the critical moment he leaps, but trips slightly on his own foot, but lands just barely on the disrupted stone. The floor gives way with incredible noise and knocks Heywood backward into a small pit. In fact, he lands directly on a trap door, which opens, and he holds on carefully with his fingers. Hargle panics at the sight of his struggling companion, runs to the trapdoor, and accidentally steps on his fingers. As a result, Heywood screams in pain and falls further into the trapdoor.

Martyr plants his face in his palms for a moment, then continues to scale across the pit. He sticks his Rod toward Heywood, helping him out of the pit, and the party continues further down the corridor.

Soon, there is a small room with a series of oddly shaped blocks stacked upon one another. They are in the shape of a square, a circle, and a triangle. There seems to be a sort of pattern to it, and there is a door that is sealed off with steel bars.

Hargle and Heywood look at the predicament, strike a thinker pose, and come up with absolutely nothing intelligent nor useful.

Martyr approaches the door and the iron bars, he sees a sort of pattern carved just past the bars. The shapes carved are in the shape of a triangle, a circle, and a square.

Still confounded, Hargle sits down and closes his eyes, trying to hone into the revelations. Hargle hears a faint buzzing sounds and a voice in Moldish about a “mailbox” that isn't set up yet.

The party walks toward the blocks, touches them, and nothing happens.

Hargle suggests that everyone does a handstand, since the blocks will then be the proper order.

Despite the absurdity of this, the rest of the party follows along since there was nothing better to attempt.

To their surprise, the bars on the door give way and reveal the entrance. Not risking closing the entrance again, Hargle immediately kicks his feet in the air and [misty step] teleports past the bars.

Martyr and Heywood awkwardly attempt to walk on their hands toward the door, both manage to perform the feat without issue.

Passing through the door there is more corridor, though something seems to be off… the party quickly notices that there are long slits in the walls along the corridor, through these slits there is a glint of large blades.

Heywood throws a small stone down the hall, it clinks off the stonework but doesn't seem to disturb the mechanism. Stepping on a stone just before the first slit, it triggers the mechanism and the blades swing back and forth in sequence. The party waits for a few minutes for it to stop… but it doesn't.

Hargle thinks for a second, then realizes what needs to be done. Spreading arms wide and turning his eyes to the ceiling, he shrinks down into a small sort of roach. Now far more dexterous, the roach bolts across the corridor and reaches the other side with little difficulty.

Heywood sizes up the corridor and decides that he can jump most of the way across without issue, but will need to simply dodge the blades the rest of the way. Putting this plan into action, he waits for an opportunity and gets in sync with the rhythm of the blades. Seeing an opportunity, he leaps spectacularly through the air, lands deftly on his feet, and the blade in front of him only cuts the tip of his nose hair. He then manages to dodge the next two axes decently well, but one grazes a small chunk of flesh from his shoulder.

Martyr, lastly, looks on in absolute horror. He kisses his rosary delicately, feels slightly more confident, and faces the corridor. He steps past the first three axes flawlessly without a scratch, on the fourth he narrowly gets grazed by the axe, but he isn't phased due to his ritual. He continues to narrowly dodge past the remaining axes until he joins the other party members.

The party bursts into tears of joy at being alive, they hug each other with passion. Except Hargle, as he is a roach.

Next, there is a large empty room. Hargle jumps off the shoulder of Heywood.

Hargle changes back to his dwarven form, and coats himself in a layer of spores.

In the corner of the dim room, there is the shadowy form of a humanoid.

The party waddles up to the form with zero survival instinct. Heywood loudly proclaims, “We must investigate!” The party generally agrees.

The figure approaches as well, and in the faint torchlight a slender feminine leg appears in the light. The party is somewhat relieved that it appears to be a human. “Who goes there?” The figure asks.

“We be the heartbreakers!” Hargle proclaims, pumping a fist into the air. The figure comes fully into the torchlight, it appears to be an elf with bright orange hair. “What is happening? How the fuck are you here!” Heywood says, grasping his head in pain.

Bartimaeus steps forward with his lute, “Hello mi'lady, good evening, happenchance you come here often?”

“I'm pretty sure there is no escape from this place, we must all suffer this fate.” The elf says.

“Oh! There is a way out,” Heywood proclaims, pointing back the way they came, “But there are so many fucking axes! It sucks!”

Martyr looks concerned for the elf, “Are you okay, do you need help?”

“No. I'm not lost, there's just no way out.” Sternly replies the elf.

“Let's just go through that door.” Hargle says, pointing at the door they have not come from.

Heywood, coming entirely to his senses, produces a serious expression. “We should find a way out of this place.” He says, entirely without his typical flamboyant accent.

“What would we be calling ye?” Asks Hargle.

“… Whatever you would like, I guess.” The elf says.

“Whatever, lady.” Hargle says with a scoff. The elf seems content with this, thereby evermore going by the moniker of “lady” and being thus referred to as such. There is much merriment and rejoice.

Hargle uses his druidcraft, and senses electric clouds ahead. The elf senses that the astrological sign of the next room is Cancer, which isn't a desirable condition on the best of days.

Going toward the next room, there is a thick foul black slime that seems to drip down. Venturing further, it again leads to a dim room. Heywood is playing with the slime.

Hargle takes the black snot that Heywood is toying with, snorts a large glob of it, and he feels the burning of sulfur. Hargle is nearly unable to focus on anything around him, he attempts to tap back into the essence of Sheogorath. He doesn't feel his presence exactly, but he does feel a sense of ecstasy to some degree. He is rejuvenated, and his senses are thoroughly dulled

Walking further into the room, there are reliefs in the walls, it appears to be a catacombs. Lady, the elf, investigates one of the shelves of corpses.

Hargle looks upon the broken pillar in the center of the room, it appears to have been broken forcefully and not having been deteriorated. He then looks upon the skulls in the walls, and senses an eldritch vibe from it. It is a familiar evil, though he can't quite put a finger on it.

The party notices a bizarre shuffling sound coming from across the room, looking down they see several arms poking out from the catacomb walls.

Hargle knows they are skeletons.

BEGIN COMBAT

A skeleton approaches Heywood and rakes it's claws against him, inflicting a flesh wound. Lady is also attacked by a skeleton, inflicting a flesh wound.

Lady stabs the bones with a knife, it is greatly effective.

Heywood takes the mace from his back and swings it like a baseball bat through the head of the skeleton in front of him. He crushes part of the skull upon impact, he follows this up with a haymaker punch from his free hand and caves in the rest of the skull. The skeleton is vanquished, but Heywood keeps momentum, and slams his elbow into another nearby skeleton.

Hargle approaches a skeleton, lights his scimitar, and cleaves through it like butter. The pressure of the moist bones causes it to combust. Being the brightest object in the room, the remaining skeletons swarm toward Hargle. One scratches at Hargle but barely scratches the lichenous coating of the dwarf.

Lady stabs the bones with a knife, it is barely effective. Lady stabs the bones again, it is greatly effective.

Heywood pulls back his mace and brings it down onto one of the skeletons, the weight of it crushes through the foe. Heywood takes the momentum to spin around for another strike, but fails to make contact. Feeling a bit embarrassed, he jabs one of the skeletons in the jaw and breaks it off.

Hargle spores the jawless skeleton, it seems to whither until it is barely keeping upright. Turning to another skeleton, he tries to slash with the flaming scimitar, but utterly fails an is just an embarrassment.

More skeletons swarm the party, and deal no damage.

Lady runs for the far exit, a skeleton swipes at her but falls on its bum.

Heywood and Hargle ran to the exit.

“Talk about a close shave.” Barty says, having just now re-joined the party and not being the least bit out of breath.

There are several undead behind the party as they spill into a hallway. Barty runs as fast as his legs can take him, the faint jingle of the tiny bells on the shoes renew the spirits of the party.

the party continues to haul ass through the rest of the hallway, it corners off to the right. There is about 60 feet of wide hallway ahead before it seems to narrow, the party must form a single-file line. The sounds of skeletons fades in the distance as they continue to flee.

Soon, there is a large room through an already-open wooden door that the party runs through. Without much option, the party continues into this empty room.

Within this room, to the left, there is a staircase that is going upward, to the right the path is blockaded by broken furniture and debris. The party quickly continues to the path on the left. At the top of the stairs the party sees four figures splayed upon the floor in the opening ahead.

~ New Friends Await ~

Dean is staring in to a glass of whiskey and considering the choices that led him down this path. He is in a dim hallway surrounded by conscious party.

Baylock is running from a fearsome beast in the forest and toward a cliffside for safety, as he nears the end of the treeline he is knocked aside. A giant shadow seems to cover up the sky and blots out the faint light. The beast stares at him with contempt and murderous intent, it raises a clawed appendage to swipe at him, just before it makes contact Baylock awakens in a cold sweat on a clammy stone floor within the dungeon.

Yllara looks around and sees that everyone else around is also in a similar state lack of movement. Underneath her feet there is a deep pit that seems to appear and she falls in, falling as though indefinitely, until landing in a dismal stone room.

Dean points a crude firearm at the heartbreakers approaching, “Who the fuck brought me here!” He demands, the heartbreakers slow their roll a bit.

Baylock points a revolver at Dean, Dean points a second revolver at Baylock, and Hargle points a slingshot at Heywood. Elf piss backs away toward the cold, stone wall. “Let's calm down, I doubt we mean each other harm” Baylock says, each one sheaths their weapon.

Hargle steps forward, hears a click, and a brick in the wall decks him across the face instantly. A series of them deliver a wallop upon him, Martyr is stuck in the crossfire.

Introductions

Baylock Nightstrider is a half-elf drake warden with torn studded armor and furs draped over their shoulders, and has an acid dragon. The half-elf has two mechanical crossbows and thick dreadlocks underneath a cowboy hat, but it is worn gayly. He smells strongly of sage and ass.

Hargle is a 3 foot tall hill dwarf that smells strange.

Dean Kane is literally a human cowboy, he has beautiful spurred boots and two revolvers at his sides. He is slightly inebriated and is in a state of confusion. Every so often he coughs his fucking lungs up every so often. There is a golden badge that sits on his chest and says lawman, it is the only well-kept bit of gear upon him.

Yllara is a wood elf that is averse to anything gross or off-putting, she is also a bit scatterbrained. She wears a leather green and linen set of clothing. She has blonde hair, light purple eyes, and an olive skin tone.

Elf Piss looks like an average human guy with slightly pointy ears, which are hidden by his hat, and he is fairly tall. He is sharply dressed with a nice buttoned vest and vertically striped trousers. He is an artisan from the artisan guild. He is giving a side-eye to the suspicious company nearby.

Martyr is a man of the cloth with studded leather armor over his clerical robes, you don't see any holy symbols about him but he has a giant hammer. He is a tan-skinned man from a war-torn land as a result of the crusades, he also has a sword on his back and refuses to answer questions regarding it.

“We be the heartbreakers.” Hargle states matter-of-factly. The new guys are now party of the heartbreakers.

The party overall appears mostly green and well scraped up from recent events.

As the party has been standing around and greeting one another, there is a faint thud of footsteps upon stones in the distance.

The party proceeds further and comes across a familiar staircase. Hargle and Martyr recognize it as a staircase they had seen earlier but did not ascend.

Dean tries to go up the staircase and notices that it is rigged with… believe it or not… “booby” traps, and will hurt the party.

The party carefully scales the staircase, avoiding the now-obviously rigged steps. Dean takes one of the gored bodies of the goblins and wedges the foot under the door to keep it shut.

The hallway at the top of the staircase is dimly lit, after about 90 feet it veers to the left. Dean keeps an eye out for possible traps ahead, there is an obvious tripwire about 40 feet ahead.

Elf piss grabs a rock and hurls it at the tripwire, it hits solidly and a set of spikes immediately projects from the floor toward the ceiling. The spikes remain, and there is a narrow space between them to squeeze past.

Hargle is too big to squeeze through the metal spikes that jut from the ground. He attempts to pry them apart but fails, then Baylock has an epiphany, “Wait, I saw this in a movie once.” He takes a plain cloth, sets is on the ground, and pisses on it. “Wet cloth doesn't tear.” He wraps it around the spikes and uses his quarterstaff as a lever, and twists it to slightly bend the spikes apart. They barely budge, but now the party can barely pull Hargle through with moderate discomfort.

The party sees a bit more black slime.

Hargle stares intently between the cracks of the bricks covered in slime and sees more slime.

The party carefully rounds the corner of the hallway, there is a faint thudding coming from behind. It is probably skellies.

The hallway twists and turns, eventually there is a decently sized rectangular room with a solidly build door ahead.

Hargle sees the beauty mark under Baylock's armor, and a faint glow on the backwall of the room ahead. There is a pile of various items.

The party steps into the room ahead, it is a tight squeeze due to the number of people in the party at this point. With the torchlight covering it now, the party can now see that there is a pile of various supplies and loot that is piled to the ceiling. There is also a well-used table near the pile, and a humanoid figure seated and faceplanted into the table. The figure has seen better days. It provides no response.

Baylock approaches the figure to perform a cavity search, it still appears entirely lifeless. As Baylock touches the side of it, the figure jolts up in surprise, and see that the hooded figure is now sitting at the table and frantically looks around.

The figure, in a thick cajun accent, “Sorry, forgive my fright, I hadn't had a guest in… a long… time…”

Baylock makes a racist impression of the guy, the party is mildly embarassed.

Dean can immediately tell that the stranger is untrustworthy, and will lie to the party through it's teeth. Catching on, Martyr casts zone of truth, nobody within the room can speak a lie. The figure is savvy, and doesn't fall for the enchantment.

Dean asks if Hargle truly summoned him, Hargle shrugs his shoulders honestly.

The figure speaks up, “Oh, ho, ho… such tricks won't work on me anymore. I've been here for a long time, perhaps too long to remember.”

Dean asks the figure, “Why are you stuck here?”

“I did some gambling, a few tricks, and now I'm here. I've been here.” The figure responds.

“Well, I have no business here, I'm leaving.” Dean states, turning away. The door is grated with iron bars, “That simply won't do…” The figure states.

Hargle narrows his eyes on the surroundings and the piles of trash, there is a strong aura of arcane sorcery from various points in the pile.

“Well, my friends, there is only one way out of this. You must hedge a bet for your freedom, and you must wager your flesh and blood.” The figure casually explains, and fixes up the table in preparation.

The party is dealt their portion of the game, and the figure is visibly excited based on his body language.

Elf piss has the highest roll, and sets the bet. The bet is Ratfink, the figure is intrigued and bets his own life.

Dean bets 10 gold coins, Yllara bets a ring that has a creature in it named Ernie Metalbrow, Martyr bets the magical sword on his back, Baylock bets the jar of black goo, Hargle bets 332 gold coins and a bag of magic beans.

The myserious figure has the highest hand, and takes the pot.

Each bets again, Baylock bets his trusty quarterstaff, Hargle bets his toenail clippings, scimitar, slingshot, and 6 silver pieces, Elf Piss makes a funny little trinket that looks like a golden twig and berries while the figure is none the wiser, Dean takes the magic rock from his pocket and places it on the table, Yllara cuts off a lock of her golden hair and lays it upon the table, the figure rummages through the pile and pulls out three vials of variously colored fluid. Martyr bets his dead wife's wedding ring, the figure groans and places another bottle on the table in response.

Baylock wins, and immediately swigs the potion with a fingernail in it, it is a potion of growth.

The figure is clearly tired from the antics of the party, and proclaims that the final game is Sailor's Doom.

Dean and Hargle take a quick break and piss upon the loot on the floor.

Dean plays the game, we are free.

Hargle is still out 332 gold and a bag of beans.

Martyr walks over to the loot pile and tries to pick up the sword, it deals 10 bludgeoning damage and the figure wags his finger. “Sorry friend, but what is won is won.”

Martyr bets a bunch of his stuff for the sword, Hargle bets himself and loses. Hargle is now part of the loot pile, and starts messing around with stuff. He can't grab anything, it is as though opposing magnets are trying to touch. Realizing the implications, he forcefully grabs the hand of the figure and forces it to knock over the back of magic beans. It causes a great fiery explosion and causes great damage to the figure and slightly less to Hargle himself. With great irritation, the figure grabs the moldly dwarf and throws him out of the room. The stone door slams loudly shut and cannot be budged from outside.

The party now appears to be in a completely different part of the labyrinth. There is a cramped hallway ahead that they sidle past. The party goes to the right down the hallway.

The whole corner of the area ahead is a sort of illusion, the floor is actually missing and is a tripping hazard. Baylock throws a jar and it disappears into the floor. “See, dumbasses, don't walk there.”

The party avoids the floor.

There is a well-lit room ahead with an altar against the far wall. There is a figure of a woman, Elf Piss has absolutely no clue what it could represent. Somehow the rest of the party understands, the name of her is Abheria and hold wheat in one hand. Dean notices that there is some sort of magical energy to the statue.

Hargle looks closely at the platform the statue sets on, noticing that there is a seam along the statue which may give way.

Baylock grabs the statue itself and swings it haphazardly, and it begins to burn red hot. He throws it and it nearly hits Dean.

Elf Piss played the lute and the drawer of the altar opens. There is a scroll of fireball.

The party proceeds forward, Dean makes some small talk, “What will each of you wish for once we reach the final floor?”

Hargle makes a little druidcraft illusion of a moist cave and a small mushroom. Dean sighs and awaits other answers. Yllara wishes to be reunited with her beloved, Martyr wishes for his sword back, Baylock wishes to spank everyone alive and who has ever lived and friendship, Elf Piss wants all full-blooded elves to die. Dean has a coughing fit and doesn't answer his own question.

They all proceed down the hallway and it twists downward deeper into the dungeon. Baylock fumbles through the hallway and steps on a pressure plate, the floor smashes him into a pink paste against the ceiling. He is greatly injured but remains somewhat conscious, Hargle feels pity and uses healing word on him.

There is a sound of footsteps ahead, Dean notices and gets prepared for combat.

BEGIN COMBAT

Hargle flame blades

The creature comes closer, there is a sort of draconic snout that comes to the dim light. Two heads comes forth and are larger than that of a normal dragon, with no wings. Baylock recognizes the creatures as guard drakes.

Dean attempts to hit a drake but fails, Baylock does the same and succeeds, dealing moderate damage to a guard drake.

Martyr casts inflict wound and channels his power into his fingertips, however it simply wasn't enough and leaves the target guard drake unaffected.

The other guard drake closes in toward Martyr and wildly slashes at him, Martyr narrowly dodges the onslaught.

Hargle runs up to support Martyr and reaches into the bag of tricks, he pulls out a fluffy ball and chucks it over one of the drakes. It creates a Duegar, and the drake is now flanked. Gripping the flaming scimitar, Hargle digs it into the body of the drake and creates a deep burning wound, a loud reptilian shriek fills the hallway.

Yllara flicks her fingers and produces a small flame in the face of one of the drakes, singing the face and annoying it.

Dean kneels down and lines up another shot with a rifle, the bullet pierces through the armor of the drake.

Elf Piss runs up to the flanked drake and grabs onto it, emitting a powerful electric shock and causing the creature to seize.

Baylock attempts to strike at the eye of a drake, it whiffs, he then shoots his crossbow and inflicts a wound on the face of the drake. He then commands his companion dragon to go to the flanked dragon and attack, at first it whiffs but then it pierces the throat and takes it down for good.

The remaining drake attempts to make a move, the spores around Hargle instinctively attack it but fail to penetrate the thick draconic skin. It swings at Martyr, dealing moderate damage.

Hargle walks up to the remaining drake, flaming scimitar in hand, and delivers a deft strike across the neck which cauterizes the arteries and leaves the beast vanquished.

Dean finds a strange effigy made of strings and stick, the other drake had no such item. Hargle manages to scrap around 5 square feet of usable hide, a heart, and a few of its teeth. As the party walks past the corpses, a few small spores break off from Hargle's skin and settles on the corpses. By the time they are about 30 feet away, the corpses are nearly entirely decomposed and covered in fungal growth.

Ahead, there is an open door that leads into a circular room with enormous stone pillars supporting the far side of it. Dean looks around for traps, but finds nothing. Hargle stares at the pillars, they are pillars. There are doors along the walls, Baylock walks around and tries kicking them open. Baylock sees one that seems as though a creature is behind it, and decides to tap the door and annoy it. The door budges inward in response, then again, and then bursts violently open and reveals a tall arcane beast with a detached jaw and dragging a giant club.

Baylock recognizes the beast as a necrotic form of pseudo-giant.

Hargle hits the pseudo-giant with a chilling projectile hand, it turns some of the flesh white and distracts it with discomfort.

Baylock shoots at the pseudo-giant twice and absolutely domes it, removing chunks of flesh with each bolt.

Martyr claps his hands together and summons forth a spiritual warhammer next to the psuedo-giant, it immediately spins through the air and attempts to slam into the side, the hit glances off and only manages to knock off a single decorative stud from the armor.

Yllara summons a beam of moonlight onto the pseudo-giant, singing its flesh and causing it to snarl in agony.

Dean shoots at the giant, but the hit glances off. Despite this, Dean seems to gain insight into the beast and sees that it is resistant to necrotic damage but vulnerable to radiant.

Elf Piss walks confidently up to the psuedo-giant and unleashes a fury of blows, absolutely shitbagging it and ripping off chunks of flesh with each strike.

The psuedo-giant is now extremely agitated and swings its club toward Martyr, dealing substantial damage. It also swings at Elf Piss, but misses.

Hargle waddles up to the pseudo-giant, fails to hit it with chill touch and spores, then decides to just buff off the scratches on Martyr.

Baylock shoots the pseudo-giant and rips off a chunk of flesh.

The duegar swings a pickaxe at the beast and rips off a bit of flesh.

Martyr's spiritual Warhammer flies through the air and swings at the jaw of the pseudo-giant, tearing away some more of the flesh. He then grabs onto the body of the beast and attempts to rot some of the flesh of the already decaying beast, black fluid seems to build up inside the veins and seep throughout the underside of the skin.

Yllara continues to focus on the beam of moonlight, burning off patches of the rotten flesh.

Elf Piss unleashes another furious series of blows, crippling the suffering beast. Dean quickly tries to pull off another shot, but it glances off again.

As the pseudo-giant attempts to move forward, it is nearly burning from the inside with the moonlight, removing most of it's life force. In desperation it swings at both Hargle and Elf Piss, injuring both and tearing off the few spores from the first.

Hargle flicks a handful of spores toward the beast, rotting the remaining flesh and vanquishing the beast…

except… after a brief moment, the beast labors to stand back up, and stares at Baylock with hatred. Baylock, understanding his queue, shoots two bolts into the eyes of the beast and then kicks the bolts in with his boots, finally finishing the beast.

~ Yay level up ~