Welcome to the Dungeon of Doom!

"JUST.....DIE ALREADY!"

Sky flourish with sword @ beetle.

[I'm going to be gone all night, so...]

Second Wind
Finish Off Whatever's Still Alive, If Anything Is, With A Viper's Strike

The dwarf howled in anger as his hammer impacted the wall, sending chips flying in all directions. He slammed it into the ground in frustration and growled under his breath. "I did that on purpose. I didn't have to miss." He grinned slightly, embers around his lips sparking and glinting in the dim light. "I just want you to feel you're doing well. I hate for people to die embarrassed."

It was then that the dwarf noticed the slight chip in the head of his warhammer. Those crazed eyes again darting up to the creature.

"HALLO! MY NAME IS GABRIEL SLEDGEHAMMER. YOU CHIPPED MY HAMMER, PREPARE TO DIE!" He bellowed the words, swinging the hammer overhead and down in a cruel blow, aiming to crush the goblin's skull.

Bolstering Strike
Shuffle backwards

Fescue's blade tears through the insect, powered by his frustration. The massive beetle is torn asunder and slain, its two halves continuing to twitch as its lifeblood pools around it.

Critical hit! 9 damage. Beetle killed.

Gabriel Sledgehammer's indignation-powered overhead smash misses its target slightly, hurtling down onto the goblin's shoulder with a sickening crunch.

7 damage

Motsognir raises his axe into the air, preparing to finish off the vile beetle — and as he swings down, the human neatly cuts his target in two. Determined not to waste the swing, he twists his body to the left and begins to spin. The tornado of dwarven haplessness rapidly wends its way across the room and, winding down, catches the goblin in the neck with a gentle tap. The goblin shrugs with its remaining arm and shoots the warlord a look of gratitude before collapsing to the stones.

3 damage, goblin killed. Surge returns Motsognir to full HP.



Battle complete! Encounter value 500 XP (100 XP apiece)

Bloodlust instantly succumbing to hunger, Argumentus investigates the contents of the crockery.

The dwarf looked down at the fallen corpse of the Goblin, swinging his hammer up onto his shoulder as he looked at the Warlord that had suddenly swung out and ended the creature with the final blow. He grinned widely and clasped his kinsman on the shoulder and shook his frame slightly, speaking in the dwarven tongue.

"Well done, friend. Clearly he was some sort of master goblin. Chief among his people, I'm sure! Long will they drink ale and sing songs of the night the dwarven brothers killed Masterchief, Lord of the Goblins and God of the underlands."

He glanced around the room, shocked to see everyone still alive and relatively in one piece. He rubbed the head of his hammer against the back of his neck to scratch an itch and then used his shield to brush the last embers out of his beard. He seemed rejuvenated by the combat, as if the majority of his wounds had healed. Only a few small red patches of skin remaining to prove he was ever set alight.

"Well then, lads. Shall we return to the last room and let our taciturn friend pet some puppies? Or do we move along?"

He was quite chipper for a guy who was just set on fire and caught in nearly mortal danger.

Although it's hard to make out through the thick miasma of foul spices that always permeate goblin cooking, the pot is packed with the floating bodies of dozens of rats, small beetles, and other vermin. Without the fire beetles to keep the stew hot, it's rapidly congealing.

Argumentus downs a cupped handful of the stew while it's still just right.

Nothing untoward occurs!

Dammit

The Paladin gaped openly as Argumentus downed the food. Maybe letting this man choose the next direction was not his finest idea to date. At any rate he cast the hammer across his shoulders and poked his toe at the goblin's fallen corpse, looking to see if he had anything interesting on him beyond simply being nigh invulnerable, apparently.

A search of the goblin bodies reveals little of use. Outside their battle-gear and a handful of coins, you find a tarnished silver statuette on the body of the largest of the goblins. You recognize the figure as a representation of Bane, an evil god of war.

Stuffed in the javelin sheaf of the stubborn goblin, you find a bilingual scroll in both Common and a language you don't recognize: How To Weep For Mercy, The Weepy-Weep Way. The ink is still fresh!

Lewts: 25 GP, silver statuette, helpful guide to weeping

Equipment: 3 sets leather armor, short sword, 5 javelins, 1 spear. I won't bother adding random equippables like this to your inventories unless you specifically mention them, since otherwise you'll get overburdened in a hurry.

The dwarf unfurled the scroll, raised a brow after reading the first few lines, rolled it back up and tossed it at What About Bob.

"Here, you'll need this more than the rest of us. Being a big girl's blouse, and all."

Bane, however, he spat on the ground as he arched a brow. "Poor misguided bastards. Their belief so misplaced in false gods. By Kord's blade, when will the world learn?" He shook his head and set the statue back on the ground, picking up his share of the 25 gp, a full 5 coins, and left the rest where it was. The statue was possibly valuable, but a zealot like Gabriel was not about to go tromping around with a false idol in his pack.

Argumentus counts the number of creatures he laid the deathblow upon with his fingers. Struggling with finger number 1 he pockets 5 GP anyways.

"Now short man you hep Argumentus? We see puppies?"

The dwarf glanced up at the larger man, shrugging as he pocketed the gold in his waist satchel. "Well, we might as well," he began "as we ain't leading but two things right now. Jack and shit. And Jack left town."

He clapped Argumentus on the lower back and began wandering towards the north door, glancing around to see if anyone else was coming along with them. "I suppose we did promise you a chance to see the other room, now didn't we."

Hefting his hammer up over his shoulder, Gabriel walked with the man-o-tard into the previous room, making for the north door...

The gold catches my eye, and seeing as I've been stripped of what wealth I had, I'll certainly need some if I manage to escape this place...

I straddle over to the floor where the fat dwarf lay down his good. While nobody is looking quite attentively, I take the remaining gold pieces, and the silver statuette, and pocket them safely. The 5 coins into my purse (assuming I have one), and the other 10 into my pack.

I then explore the room.

Argumentus looks at the North Door. He looks long and hard at it. Then he looks some more. Then he realizes that he's not doing anything and inspects the door to see if he can open it once again in his own "special" way.

Zeph:

This room was probably a kitchen at one time, but rotted shelves and cupboards have spilled their payload of dishes over the floor, and the ancient brick oven has been converted into an unfortunate makeshift privy. A small glass vial of black fluid lies abandoned in a corner.

Brady: Argumentus sees nothing unusual about the door.

Argumentus stares at the door, slack jawed and dull-eyed. A single line of drool slides down from the corner of his mouth, miraculously reaching the floor without a break.

Argumentus waits on more dudes

Investigate black vial.

The dwarf blinks at Argumentus for a good long while, then with a slight sigh and a shake of his head he glances over his shoulder and then steps to the side of the door, so as not to be in front of it when it opens, presses his hand to the door and gives it a good push to slide it open. After the last time, he's in no hurry to stand directly in front of a door right now. He'd be slightly more cautious, but he'd seen that this slightly slow human was the next best warrior to himself in these caverns, so it wasn't so massive a worry. Besides, he hadn't heard any goblin-speak on the other side of this door. Just rats. What could possibly go wrong?