Campaign Highlights

* \*NOTE\* these are greatly abbreviated, I will improve this later

Erika: "Watch who you call an old hag, dwarf!" Also Erika: "One hit? Let's see... that puts me at -4."

"I attempt to cut off a leg from the centipede monster." "...why would you ever want to do that?" "It'll make a fine walking stick."

"Ok, I bull rush the orc on the owlbear... crit? Ok, I knock him clear off the owlbear."

"Fargrim, you got enough meat? I bet we can tame this owlbear." *Owlbear promptly crashes Turg into a tree, barely avoiding the tree itself.*"Well, that didn't go as planned."

"Why can't the owlbear come through? According to the laws, section 4c, subsection II, paragraph 29..."

"MMMEEAAATTT! meatmeatmeatmeatmeatmeatmeatmeatmeat..."

*Morgana holds out a stick figure drawing. Turg glares at her.* "Turg is no stick figure, hag." *Morgana draws on some muscles.* "Much better."

"Next!" *Turg cocks his head inquiringly.* "NEXT!" *Turg cups his hand around his ear.* "sigh... NEXT!!!!" *Meelil shoves Turg along the tunnel*

"Ok, sure, we can count Turg overcoming his own self-doubt and inadequacy in this race as an enemy kill..." "FEAR THE MIGHTY TURG!!!"

"Good day, Lieutenant, how are you today?" "SMASHING THINGS!" "uhh... okay???" "GLASSWORK" "Are... are you ok?" "Smash...?"

"I teleport the outhouse in front of the doorway." "Ok, everyone there, roll reflex saves." "Make it!" "...Turg fails." "Turg, you are now inside an outhouse." "I smash through the back wall desperately with my rod." *later on* "...can I get a bonus to my save against the spores due to being in a cloud of toxic outhouse fumes?"

"So this game is sort of like a combination of marbles and pool, where you're trying to hit the other marbles with a ball and are scored based on how many collisions you can get." "Pool? Isn't that more like billiards?" "...maybe?" "Ok, so what's this game called?" *10 minutes of debate later* "...marbilliards?"

*Yeren holds a slip of paper over his head, then pulls it down, looking confusedly at the lack of markings on it.*

"Why should we listen to you?" *Yeren rolls a nat 20 on intimidate* "I am a high ranking officer in the army of creation! These nagaji have been under MY supervision this whole time. So, unless you want to take it up with Kerykeion himself, STAND DOWN!"

"Is there any way we can find the portal back to the nagaji plane?" "Well...hmm... Ok, you can roll a luck check I guess." "Nat 20?" "Are you fucking kidding me right now?"

*Turg choke-slams Calio Rolan to the wall*

"Ok, roll for Yangoth's teleporting you all to Trisilium." *rolls a d100* "Ummm... can we pretend high is good for teleport?"

"But they're barbarians! They're just worse than noble people like me!" *Two hours of debate later...* "Wait, are we still in character?"
"What can I help you with today?" "We need lantern oil." "How much? I have a barrel over here..." "Yes, that will do nicely.""So this wax just needs to heat up to seal the barrel of lantern oil?" *Wax promptly ignites, dropping onto the barrel of highly flammable liquid*

"I've had better swill out of a donkey's ass!" *Proceeds to pull out a donkey-shaped flagon and drink from its ass*

"I tackled a horse once, you know." "No way." "Yeah, I did." "I don't believe you." "Well it's true." "Prove it; there's a horse right outside." *Turg proceeds to tackle a horse.*

"Ok, I teleport the fleeing goblin directly in front of me." "He comes charging out of the portal and promptly falls off the roof, onto his commander below."

"Should I bring anything else back?" "Bring us some of the good stuff, lad! Can't be going into war without some fine dwarven ale!"

Location: Belisarius yacht in the middle of the mangrove isles

Setup: Craumpalin is up on a yardarm inspecting a sail. He finds a halfling hiding in the sail. He tries to talk the halfling into coming down to the deck. The halfling jumps overboard.

Craumpalin: "I pull out my fishing pole and try to catch him!"

Europe (on the deck): "I shoot him with my crossbow"

*rolls, rolls, rolls... Craumpalin succeeds and Europe fails*

Craumpalin's line catches the halfling in mid air and swings him back over the deck. This moves him out of the path of the crossbow bolt. Craumpalin then successfully maintains his balance and doesn't fall or drop the halfling, but the line breaks. The halfling proceeds to fall onto the wooden deck about 50' below the yardarm and is only mostly dead.

"Well, we can't afford to waste time," Turg said angrily. "We need to keep moving."

Edmund blinked tiredly. "Well, if I had a silk pillow, I might be able to do something, but..."

Europe reached into her pack and pulled out a pillow. "Will this do?"

"No," Edmund replied. "It has to be silk, and it has to be worth at least a hundred gold."

Turg reached into his pack, pulling out his bloodstained silk pajamas. "Wrap the pillow in those."

Edmund shook his head. "Still needs to be worth a hundred gold." Then he paused, struck by an idea. "Wait..." Reaching out, he grabbed the pillow and the pajamas, wrapping the pillow tightly in the pajamas. Reaching into his own pack, he pulled out ten platinum and stuffed it into the makeshift pillow. "There, that should work."

RB: umm... I guess that will technically work? Sure, I'll allow it.