Chapter 5-Checking for Traps

Chapter 5-Checking for Traps

            One important thing to know about kobolds is that they love setting traps. By nature, they are very cowardly (kind of like bubaos). With clever and deadly traps, they can get the upper hand without actually putting themselves in danger.

            The Monk and Drake (Jacob BTW) provided the light. Drake had a light spell that he could cast infinite amounts of times every day (he generally used the soup bowl that he got from the Gnoll) and The Monk was holding a glowing human skull. Now that they could see their surroundings, everyone could see that the walls and ceiling were lined with rocks hanging from strings, steel traps, trip wires, holes that probably held spikes, and one thing that looked frighteningly similar to a guillotine.

            Slim Shady took his time making sure every single trap was disabled, by which point the kobolds had long ago escaped. Belial (his personal slave, as you might remember) was following him around, offering a waterskin every time he stopped moving for more than a few seconds. Eventually Shady just banished him to a corner and had him stand on his head.

            I’m not entirely sure what kind of a creature Belial actually is. Not human, as far as I can tell. I think he’s some sort of shadow creature that was specifically designed to fit Shady’s evil needs. I’m not sure Belial is even entirely corporeal. We just ignore him most of the time. Look up his name in the Bible Dictionary.

            The funny thing about Dungeons and Dragons (and its breakoffs, like Pathfinder) is that you see plenty of the dungeons, but Dragons are extremely sparse. The problem with dragons is that they are extremely dangerous. All of them. If you present a dragon to a new group, they’ll probably kill themselves trying to fight it. Even if you give a dragon to a set of veterans, they’ll hesitate to get anywhere near it. Because dragons kill people. Sorry. Sidenote.

            At this point, I’m worried that a detailed description would bore you. So the abridged version: in the next room Shady checked for traps, found many, and disarmed them. In the room after that, the process repeated. Hans was forced to go first, just in case he missed any.

            As Shady tied the final wire into place, there was the sound of footsteps echoing from somewhere. A panel that looked suspiciously like a wall slid open.

            Immediately Shady’s knives were out. The Captain pulled his seven-foot-long lance out of nowhere (he can do stuff like that. Don’t ask questions). Drake stood in the “ready” position, preparing to defend his honor. Very Klingon of him. Etc. Hans didn’t really do anything. He was still a bit out of it (in reality I was writing up a new character sheet. It was going to be awesome. I even had my entrance planned; it would be the sort of entrance that would spare Hans’ life).

I’m terrible at fight scenes, and once again I wouldn’t want to bore you. Suffice it to say, Shady wiped them out quickly.

            Brennen leaned over to Darick, who was consulting his Bestiary manual. When Darick saw he was looking, he immediately snapped the book shut.

            Brennen straightened with a knowing grin on his face.

            Groaning, Hans struggled to get out from under a kobold that looked a lot like Carl. No one offered any assistance, despite his injuries. Everyone had survived, as per usual. It occurred to him that Shady and the Monk were the only ones who ever killed anything.

            After everyone had recovered, the group resigned itself to the daunting task of entering the next room. Shady was about to start disabling traps when his eyes strayed across the bodies of the kobolds strewn across the ground. Being evil, he came up with an evil idea.

            Why not have Hans check for traps?

            Shady easily picked up Carl’s body and tossed it aside. Before Hans could offer confused thanks, his wrists were tied up.

            Before anyone could do anything else, there was a crash, followed quickly by a few twangs and the sound of metal against rock.

            Then silence.

            Peering into the next room, the group saw a rather horrific sight. Carl’s body was looking rather mutilated. I won’t go into details.

            From that point forward, Carl checked for traps for us. There wasn’t much left of him by the time we were done. The kobolds didn’t attack again; the message was clear enough.

            Eventually we reached the point where we tossed Carl into the next cave and heard nothing but a dull thud. We all cautiously poked our heads through. Nothing but a hunk of tortured reptilian meat (sorry, that was kind of gruesome). We caught sight of a huge cavern and a wide flight of stairs before all the lights went out. Even Drake’s soup bowl refused to give light.

            We carefully crept into the darkness, carefully avoiding the aforementioned meat. There was a dim glow ahead, similar to a fire wrapped in some dark material—perhaps leather. A low rumble filled the air at even intervals, always accompanied by the smell of smoke. The pattern on the material shifted ever so slightly.

            We all waited patiently as Darick took a brief restroom break.

            Somebody tripped and stumbled and the rumbling abruptly stopped. In the darkness a shining eye opened. A shape quietly reared up.

            A shape Hans knew well.

            It was a Dragon.

Next time: Negotiations

Chapter 4B-That was before

“I think that should do it,” the Captain muttered.

The rope certainly looked secure enough. Shady tested his weight on it. It held without too much creaking. After all, the Captain had a bit more experience with ropes than he did, being a seaman. An amnesiac seaman, but a seaman nonetheless.

Still…

“You go first,” Shady commanded.

The Captain leaned back against the wall and prepared to slide down the rope.

I still had some points left over from last time I leveled up. Just enough, in fact, to add another language to my arsenal. It occurred to me that since I had “Dragon” as a favored enemy, it would make sense to be able to understand what they say. Especially with the backstory I was working out.

It suddenly dawned on Hans that he could speak Draconic.

“Stupid squishy. I will pommel you!”

“Mmmmpph”

“C’mon Carl, hurry up. I want a few prods.”

A muffled voice shouted something that sounded like “tallyho!” (Honestly?! Spell check underlines “yay” but not “tallyho”?)

The rope began to oscillate a bit. A large figure suddenly burst through the lava, sliding down the rope. Realizing what was about to happen, Hans began to struggle even harder.

A few fingers managed to get a bit of wiggle room before the Captain landed heavily on his back.

“MMMPPPHHHH!!!”

Struggling to catch his breath, Hans turned his head to watch everyone’s reactions. The Captain immediately pulled out his bottle of acid and his six-foot-long lance that he somehow managed to carry everywhere.

“Seems sturdy enough. John?”

If there was anything deadly down there, then this should eliminate all of the useless people in one fell swoop, as long as he sent Drake next.

John slid down the rope.

He ended up going faster than he wanted, but at least he had the benefit of a soft landing.

Hans was pretty sure he had heard something crack that time. Hopefully nothing too important. The Captain was getting pummeled, and John wasn’t exactly a powerful person (or group of people, if you recall). A moment later Drake slid carefully down the rope and began hurling spells a little less than carefully.

The Monk, not waiting for Shady’s approval, spun down the rope, using it only as a guide for his fall.

Hans saw penguins on that one. He floated happily with them for a moment, free of the recent pain before reality rudely interrupted.

“They keep sending people down,” said a gravelly voice in Draconic (of course, everyone sounds gravelly in Draconic). Kurah! Grab the one that’s tied up and let’s get out of here!”

The kobold that had been the dealer dashed to the inert Hans and cut him loose, hauling him into a fireman’s carry.

Shady did not plan on being shown up by a freakin’ bird in a robe (played by his younger brother, as a matter of interest). He would use the rope to pull himself down. That way he could go faster than gravity would otherwise allow. He could roll to absorb the momentum at the bottom. Then he would pop back up, daggers in hand.

He leapt off of the edge and pulled on the rope. To his surprise, there wasn’t any weight on the bottom end. Thrown completely off balance, he held onto the rope, allowing it to catch his weight.

Amnesiac seamen aren’t actually as good with knots as they think they are.

A silhouetted figure flew into the room, landing directly on top of a surprised Kobold by the unfortunate name of Ce’kerú Kurah (meaning “Green Fool”. Kobolds are given tribal names chosen by the chief. Carl was the name of an adventurer that the chief had once cleverly crushed with a rock).

Hans decided that he was having a very bad day.

The kobolds were losing. Leaving Kurah behind, the rest of them fled for their lives. Kurah scrambled after them as soon as he had his breath back.

“Oh, look!” the Captain said, smiling. “We won’t have to leave the rope behind!”

Shady was about ready to kill him.

And for the first time ever, he forgot to check for traps (I almost said tarps. Heh heh).

Bob fingered his red shirt as he walked forward to the next room. Suddenly a rock fell seemingly from nowhere and, failing his reflex roll, Bob was crushed flat.

Okay not really. But that’s how Star Trek would have done it.

Hans didn’t really want to watch the ensuing violence (nothing permanently damaging), so he staggered into the next room.

“Roll for reflex.”

“Um, okay”

The rock came from nowhere. Hans barely had time to jerk to the side as is smashed to the ground, dealing him a glancing blow.

Shady broke off of some particularly nasty verbal abuse and, seeing Hans on the ground, promptly checked for traps.

What he saw made him freeze.

“No one move,” he whispered.

(The long-awaited) Chapter 4-Out with a bang

Please excuse the extra drama. I’m upsizing things a bit to make the story more interesting to read.

Something was off. I wasn’t having as much fun playing Hans as I usually did. What had changed? I thought back and realized that I had lost a lot of my character in trying to be more amusing and fit in with the group. It was hardly the same Hans anymore.

‘I can’t play like this,’ I thought. ‘There’s more I can be doing.’

I thought more and more about it as the others prepared to begin the game. By the time we started, I had made the choice.

It was time for a new character.

Previously on Pathfinder

(Insert action-packed scenes of our group finding a cave, finding Hans, jumping over holes, getting attacked by wizards, and killing evil chickens. Here are a few dialogue clips to help spark your imagination)

“Look at this cave!”

“*mumble mumble*” “Who the heck it this whack job?”

“I use acid splash!”

“EEEEEEEEEEEEEE!…”   “Make that plant stop screaming!”

“DIE POULTRY!!!”

You’re welcome.

Everyone was mumbling about the cockatrices except Shady, who was busy cooking one up. He was disappointed to find that the magic that helped them turn things to stone faded shortly after death, so he found a new use for them.

Presently, we packed up camp and were off to find where the rest of the cave led. We followed the narrow passageway and found not only another cave, but a chiseled chamber filled almost entirely with lava. If any of us had any sort of inclination towards the sciences, we might have wondered why the cave wasn’t scorching us to death and hadn’t scorched us to death from a couple caves over. While we were at it, why not ask why we didn’t choke on the smoke from Knoll’s fire?

Had any of the questions crossed our minds, Darick would undoubtedly have directed our attention to a convenient afore-unmentioned natural chimney that was far too small for any person to climb through.

But we didn’t, and so he didn’t.

To be honest, I was too busy filling out a new character sheet. It was going to be awesome. I was going to have a cool animal companion and everything.

Shady was exploring every bit of the cave, checking for traps. Before long he realized that we had reached a dead end. Asking for opinions, he noticed that I didn’t really have my heart in it.

“What are you doing, Danny?”

“Filling out a new character sheet. I’m getting kind of bored with Hans.”

A plan quickly began to form in Shady’s mind. He briefly consulted The Captain (who was trying to see if the lava would melt his lance. It hadn’t so far.) and they each grabbed the end of a rope.

You see, Shady had a theory that perhaps the lava was just an illusion. The unmelted lance was evidence enough to jump to a hasty conclusion.

Thirteen seconds later, Hans was kicking and screaming as the Captain lowered him into the lava. Everyone watched with a morbid sort of a fascination as he dropped inch by inch. (Not even Drake said anything! My own brother!) He touched the glowing surface and the angry shouts became shrieks of pain. He disappeared completely under the surface.

The others congregated to discuss their options. It was unfortunate about Hans, but the life expectancy of an adventurer isn’t that long anyway. At least his death was mercifully quick. Better him than Belial, anyway. At least Belial was useful (he was serving up cooked chicken at the moment. The Monk was abstaining. Either he fought better hungry, or he didn’t believe in cannibalism). After all, they had just met the guy.

“Hey guys,” said the Captain.

“Not now,” snapped Shady around a mouthful of cockatrice.

The Captain hefted the end of the rope onto a more comfortable position on his shoulder.

:”And you can pull up the rope now,” said Shady, swallowing another bite.

“I would, but he’s still struggling on the other end.”

Hans winced as the lava touched him, and for a moment everything was a confused blur of orange. He could hear some magically generated shrieks of pain.

Suddenly, he was through. The light from the ceiling illuminated a table with a group of reptilian creatures seated around it. They appeared to be playing cards.

Kobolds are a small, craven, lizard-like race that dwells in places hidden from the sun, particularly subterranean caverns or dense, wooded areas. The inherent cowardice of the kobolds has lent the schemers in a bit of cleverness and ingenuity, especially when it comes to devising deadly traps. Despite the fact that kobolds believe they are, in fact, the most superior race on Golarion, they are commonly found in service to other, more powerful masters.

            --Pathfinder Bestiary (2009), p. 183

Noticing the change in light, the dealer glanced up. The creature practically croaked in surprise at the cocoon of ropes that was staring at him with wide eyes.

For an awkward moment everyone stared up, no one moving. Finally Hans opened his mouth.

“The blue guy on your left has an ace up his sleeve.”

‘The Blue Guy’ grabbed his spear from next to him. The others followed suit. They could never resist such an easy target, no matter what language it was speaking.

A level three ranger is allowed to have one “favored enemy”. That basically means that they are proficient at fighting that particular type of creature. I had decided to settle on dragons, even though Pathfinder groups rarely ever saw any.

I was starting to wish I could change to kobolds.

Shady considered the options. He knew these idiots would probably do anything he said if he was convincing enough. A new plan formulated.

“How much rope do you have left?”

“At least seven feet. How on earth have you been carrying this around?”

“There might be a secret cave underneath. See how much farther you can lower him.”

A red kobold on the dealer’s right hefted his club. He was larger than the rest, which pretty much meant he was the leader. He forced the others into line behind him. He would get first whack. He reared up for the swing…

…and missed completely as Hans fell face first onto the ground.

In Draconic, they have a phrase for “human wrapped in ropes”. It’s pronounced pen-yä tá. Hans was hearing them shout these words repeatedly, and it sparked an idea that would eventually become a popular party game.

“I think that was the ground,” the Captain stated.

Chapter 3-Why I Hate Poultry

“ ‘Shut up Hans’ “

It took only a few more rounds for us (aka Shady) to finish off the last of the bad guys. Drake the Wizzard finally caught on to who the good guys were (the winning team. If you’re going to lose your honor, might as well go all out). We paused briefly to recuperate, looking around the room. Noticing a small plant in one corner, a few of our experts decided to investigate. Unfortunately, one of said experts was the Captain.

I’ve never heard a plant scream for mercy before.

And boy, could they scream. Even the farthest of us were tearing at our ears and vaguely wishing we were dead. The Monk had very sensitive hearing, but luckily he was a statue at the moment. By the time the Captain had sufficiently studied the plants there wasn’t a soul in the caves that wasn’t painfully aware of our presence. It did save us the bother of defrosting the bird, because the ice had shattered moments before. The glowing eventually wore off, too.

Warily, we made our way to the next cavern. Seeing a fire flickering ahead, we prepared ourselves for battle. Paranoia sort of grows on you after a while (not in a good way, more like it’s parasitic. Parasitic paranoia. I could be a poet. Poetic Parasitic paranoia. Yay for alliteration. Alliterative [hey that’s a real word! Spell check didn’t underline it!].[Sorry]. Alliterative Poets performing Parasitic Paranoia. w00t!).

A pot hung from a scaffold over the fire, its contents cast into shadow by the flickering flames (moar alliteration! Poetry mode engage! Gah [shut up spell check, it’s called onomonopia]! This is ruining it. I’ll shut up now). The faint sound of slow boiling created a comfortable, welcoming atmosphere. A shadowy figure leaned forward into the fluxuating circle of light, its warped form still mostly hidden.

A log cracked and burst, sending sparks out and revealing a twisted, doglike form covered by a tattered cloak. What could be seen of its fur was smeared with filth, and large patches were falling out in loose tufts. The creature’s nose and mouth were pressed out into a short snout. But the eyes…

One noticed the other details arbitrarily, but its eyes were what held your attention. They were sunken deep into their sockets. Instead of black dog eyes, they were pure white, glittering with what might have once been feral intelligence.

Shady stepped forward, drawing a long knife. “Don’t try anything, knoll. We’re armed.”

The knoll chuckled, or perhaps growled. Its voice was like slate grinding across gravel. It reached back to a shelf carved into the stone beside it.

Everyone tensed. Those with long-ranged weapons prepared to fire, while Shady drew another knife. The knoll reached behind and grabbed…

…Some bowls.

Thus ensued “dinner at Knoll’s”. He really was a nice guy once you got to know him. The soup was awful (like I cared. I was almost hungry enough to try to steal from Shady again), but we liked him enough that we decided to bring him with us. We never learned his name, simply calling him “Knoll”. He insisted that he was quite happy where he was, but we wouldn’t hear of it. By silent consent, the Monk picked up Knoll and we began on our way. You’ll never believe what we found past the next opening.

Another cave.

It seemed like a good cave to stop and sleep in, so we began unpacking our stuff. I sat back comfortably, eating trail mix as I watched Shady run around looking for his bedroll and tent. I had lost all of my stuff to the penguins, so I didn’t have to worry about setting anything up. I could just sit back and watch the group prepare for the night.

It was quite a sight. The Monk stood watch, leaning Knoll up against a wall to rest. Belial tried to serve his master by stealing someone else’s bedroll. I discarded a raisin (who puts raisins in trail mix anyway?). The Captain wandered around aimlessly, poking stuff with his 7-foot-long lance (i.e. Belial, who immediately dropped the stolen bedroll and dipped his head subserviently). John was holding his hands up, swearing it wasn’t him. Shady was threatening to stab John repetitively until he told him where his stuff went. Drake licked a rock. It was probably tastier than the soup he was still eating.

After getting extracted from Shady’s tent and returning his trail mix (with no small number of threats), I decided to help the Monk keep watch. He wasn’t much for conversation. I reflected for a while on how we always had him on first watch, and how none of us would even know if we were attacked. Our first warning would be thumping sounds—shortly followed by our enemies crying out in pain. What exactly was the use of that?

Today our first warning was the clucking.

Basilisks are popularly portrayed in one of two ways. It’s generally accepted that they hatch from chicken eggs (one exception is in “The Son of Neptune” when they come from Polybotes’s hair, like evil dandruff). The first kind is, of course, as a snake. They’re always venomous, and often breathe fire. The other kind is as a reptilian-looking chicken. Both kinds can turn you to stone or even kill you with a glance.

I shouted a warning to the group, as the Monk didn’t seem very willing to do so. You could almost hear a click as the group rapidly shifted to battle mode again. Each of various sounds demonstrated the drawing of weapons. Even Drake drew a sword. Where’s the honor in using magic against an enemy that can’t use it back? It’s a shame. The group had been excited about having a wizzard. We lined up and prepared ourselves.

We were facing a large group of chickens with sort of reptile-looking tails. The moment Darick (our DM) finished his description, I turned around and studiously looked at the other wall. I can tell when someone is describing a basilisk to me, and I had no desire to die (or worse, expelled) because I looked at their eyes.

One person rolled a “Knowledge: Creatures” check and correctly identified the animals as “Cockatrices”. Feeling a bit foolish, I turned back around. He explained how they a close cousin to the basilisk. They could still petrify us, but only with their beaks.

We did what we do best. We attacked.

Drake immediately used “light” to light up his bowl of soup. Shady rolled highest initiative (as usual). When it came to his turn, Drake ran up to a chicken and dumped the bowl of soup on its head.

The first cockatrice fell with impunity. The Captain was pecked a bit, but he was only slightly slowed. Shady thought for a moment, then asked Darick if the cockatrices’ beaks could still turn things to stone if they were dead. They could. Sheathing one of his daggers, he instead wielded the dead cockatrice in one hand.

After that, things fell into chaos a bit. Everyone chose a different chicken to attack. The Captain had discarded his lance and instead opted for his now-signature acid splash, as it was more effective. Pretty soon Shady was dual-wielding poultry.

Things finally started slowing down a bit. There was only one cockatrice left, and it was getting really lucky on its dexterity checks. No one could even hit it. It wasn't long before the wall behind it was battered, burnt, dented, and dissolving. After a while, Jacob put a bucket on it and Shady simultaneously stabbed it to death and turned it to stone with its dead comrades.

" 'Oof!' "

'Hurry up! The portal's closing! We'll lose him!'

'But...but that was..."

'Yes. It was. Now come on!'

...

'Do you guys run into those sorts of people all the time?'

'Pretty much. Welcome to PlaneScape."

Next time:How to react if you find yourself falling in lava while checking for traps

Chapter 2-Infinity

Journeying along, the group again found itself in a cave; this one with a well in it. Since no one had experience on testing water for poison, they continued forward. They probably all would have fallen to their deaths if it weren’t for the Monk’s low-light vision. He spotted the hole a few moments before anyone else. They would have eventually spotted it as well, if only because of the receding screams of whoever was in front. Dropping a torch (which, for some reason, they didn’t light earlier) they realized that the hole was more or less infinitely deep. DMs are allowed to pull that kind of thing.

After thinking for a moment (allowing me a chance to catch up) The Monk decides he will just jump over the hole. Due to his oath of silence, we are all kind of caught by surprise by this. After a tense half-second, we hear a thump on the other side.

Noticing the well near the group, I drop to my knees and drink deep, thus solving the mystery of whether or not it was poisonous.

The Monk lit a torch on the other side to show us how wide it was. With luck and a running start, any one of us could have made it across. With bad luck or a slow run, we would certainly fall to our deaths.

Meanwhile… (I love meanwhiles!)

“A certain wizard prepared himself, both mentally and physically, for the impending duel. Trying to ignore the feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach, he tried to mentally review the stockpile of spells he had prepared that morning.  He knew that he was out of his league on this one. He had insulted the wrong man, and now he would pay the price.

“ ‘You may still live if you will take it back, Drake Son of None’

“Drake, troubled, considered his enemy’s words. If he chose to submit, he could survive to see another sunset. But the laws of honor stated that he would be exiled for his cowardice. Working his jaw, he forced out his answer.

“ ‘I would sooner die!’

“His enemy nodded.

“ ‘So be it’ ”

We paused for a moment to rest. The Captain was a heavy man, and it hadn’t been easy to pull him up. For some reason he was quite amused by the situation.

“Is that everyo--?” Shady broke off. Turning around he raised an eyebrow at me. “What are you doing?”

Pulling my hand out of his pack, I smiled sheepishly. “Nothing. Just getting a snack.”

Looks can’t kill, but knives sure can.

“If I catch you in my pack again, I will personally carve you to ribbons.”

Suddenly, from the darkness, an arrow embedded itself in Shady’s pack. The group immediately switched into battle mode. Knives were drawn, swords unsheathed, acid uncorked, and a single khopesh hefted.

And so a fight began. It happens to this group a lot. If people got attacked half as much in real life, humankind would quickly go extinct. But I suppose it’s only to be expected. How else can you make a living as a freelance mercenary? At least you save money on funerals (assuming someone in the group has a shovel), and cremation often comes entirely free.

Fight scenes aren’t really my forte, but here it goes.

Thunder rolled.

It rolled an eleven.

Shady quickly got the upper hand, and his knives flashed silently through the air. The attackers focused their attention on him, but by the time they got their chance he had slipped back into the shadows. Desperately trying to think of something clever, I finally settle on “I swing my khopesh”. Miss. Acid splash. Miss. Punch really hard. Miss. Stab with knifes. Hit. Khopesh. Miss. In one eternal round. (The attackers also had some hits in there, but I figured you would pick up on the pattern quicker and it would be more humorous if I left them out for the moment.)

It was about at this point that the Captain (of all people) realized that we could see better if he lit something up. He has a spell called “light” that he could use as many times as he wanted, but he had to touch it first. He made up for his moment of genius a moment later, because the first thing within reach happened to be the Monk.

Now able to see, our assaulters to the opportunity to strike the clearest target. It’s lucky that the Monk can hold his own fairly well. He didn’t voice any sort of objection, and his expression was hard to read (the beak kept getting in the way).

And now for a moment of role-playing brilliance.

Because meanwhile…

“ ‘You’ve lost, Drake. Admit it, and I’ll let you live. This is your last chance.’

“Drake looked hazily up at the other man. The word ‘live’ sounded very good right now. He opened his mouth…

“…And abruptly shut it. Something was tugging at his mind…Something he needed to do…

“But what would he be able to do while dead? What was it he had shouted earlier? Surely it could wait until his head had cleared. He nodded.

“ ‘Yeah…okay.’

“The other wizard smirked and lifted his wand.

“ ‘You have no honor. Begone.’

“And with a flash of light, everything vanished.”

With a flash of light even brighter than the one encompassing the Monk, a man tumbled into the half-darkness.

I’m going to pause for a moment.

When you’re disoriented and confused and find yourself in the middle of a battle with a giant glowing bird beating people to pulps, what’s the first thing you do? Attack the people the bird is beating to pieces? Or do you go after the creature that’s obviously the bad guy?

My brother opted for the bad guy.

Ah, yes. Didn’t I mention that? The Klingon wizard is my younger brother. He’s not actually Klingon, but he modeled his character to be honor-bound to the point of idiocy. Honor this and honor that. The entire kingdom he’s from is molded after the Klingon home world. That’s why losing your honor is serious enough to get you banished.

The next thing he knew, the Monk was a glowing ice sculpture.

~~~~~~~~~~
Once in every show
there comes a song like this!
It starts out soft and low
and ends with a kiss.
Oh where
is the song
that goes like this?
~~~~~~~~~~

Since this last time I pulled the ‘meanwhile’ was so successful, I’m wondering if I could pull off a long-term one. One that you don’t see how it connects until much later. But we have the entire group now. I could do flashbacks and explain people’s backstories, like “Once Upon a Time”. For the other option, I could write the adventures of a parallel (and entirely fictional) group that would connect this group of stories with the next one. I could do either one. I have only vague ideas for both; I could do either one just as easily. It’s entirely up to you. What’s your vote?

Next time: The evil chickens of death

Chapter 1-Welcome Back

            “Four days.

            “Four days is a long time to go without food or fresh water.”

            I’m going to start including these little italic interludes of narrative. I hope you like them.

            I've enjoyed being in his group. But once again, I find myself starting after the last meeting of pathfinder. That’s just how long it took to describe my old group.

           Ah, well. Upward and onward.

           “Silence filled the bubble. The Captain was fiddling with his rapier, and Shady was experimenting with how long the spell would hold if he poked the wall with a knife. Belial did his best to be invisible until his master needed him, while John nervously shied away. The monk sat in silence, contemplating the many ways a man could die.

            “Finally the Captain stirred.

            “ ‘Are we there yet?’ ”

The group descended slowly through the water on some magical platform. The meeting began when they reached their destination.

            They found themselves in a small cave. Shady immediately checked for traps and, finding none, proceeded to a low archway. This lead to a series of rather predictable events. Shady checked for traps and, finding none, finally noticed the weirdo off to the side who was holding himself and rocking back and forth, whimpering.

Character profile: The Monk

            Race: Tengu (or something)

            Class: Monk

            Appearance: Giant bird with a cloak. Think Ra’zac.

            Preferred weapons: Hand 1 and Hand 2

            Alternate weapons: Is literally proficient with everything. Swords, arrows, lances, chairs…

            Other traits: Sworn to silence (he finds ways around that). Can also throw anything, regardless of weight.

            Interests: Punching, kicking, throwing, killing, and collecting human bones.

Yes, the strange boy was me. Not the Monk, the one rocking back and forth. Thus Hans’s story continues. How do you like the profile thing? I think it’s pretty cool. At any rate, I have to apologize for the lack of sheep in my entrancé.

Ignoring me, Shady continued forward, only to be attacked by an evil plant. Three minutes later, they continued forward again. Coming upon a fork in the road, the Captain went one way and everyone else the other (except me, because I’m still in the corner feeling sorry for myself). Observing the group (the Captain mostly), it immediately became clear that my role was already filled to capacity (as evidenced by the somewhat amusing mime act).

‘Perhaps’, I think, ‘the group could handle two insane people’.

Captain: “Hey, how many times can I use acid splash every day?”

Darick: “Erm…as many as you want, I suppose”

Captain: “Excellent. I use acid splash on the wall repetitively”

‘No, probably not.'

So then…

Who am I?

…

I could be anybody.

And so I became anybody.

Next time: A Matter of Honor

Interlude

Right...so there's going to be a small transition, because our DM ran into some stuff at the end of the summer and decided that he was going to go to college. I think that was actually his plan all along.
So I joined a group that is run by none other than our good friend Cask. He runs a version of D&D called "Pathfinder". It's actually quite similar in just about every way.
The group had already been going for quite a while before I joined, so I kind of barge into their story a bit.
As it begins (for me, anyway), the group is inside a bubble traveling to submerged ocean caves....