Plummet: I thought we decided it was a wagon?
Dungeon Master: Failure! Zero Dungeon Master experience points awarded. So sorry to begin the session with more cart confusion.
Plummet: We could say "cartfusion" for short.
Dungeon Master: Please do not plan for more errors of Dungeon Mastering! Also, the farmer says, "We're here! Thank you for saving me and my vehicle from twigsters and needlers. Also, get out so that I may drive my vehicle away and you do not have to mention it ever again."
Pilchard: I'll get out. Do we need to pay him?
Dungeon Master: The fee is waived as reward for him not getting twigged or needled to death.
Plummet: I will exit also. Oh! I smell my robes of magehood. Have they gained the reek of turnips from so long in the farmer's vehicle?
Dungeon Master: Yes, but only so very faint in odor. Also, Naplyville has excessive turnip farms, so it's unlikely to be noticed.
Pilchard: It's still an unmagely and unscribely scent. Hopefully there is a house of laundrying in Naplyville.
Plummet: Unmagely and unsagely as well! Brother, we must seek laundryage immediately.
Grolka: Wait! How even does the town of Naplyville look? Are the streets full of hoodlums that should alarm mages from leaving the company of their orc of barbarism?
Helsa: Indeed, such appreciation would be yours for describing our arrived-at environment in more detail, Dungeon Master.
Bingly: Or, is it time again for a six-sided die to determine one of us to be the describer?
Dungeon Master: No! Today there has been more preparation! Behold, the map of Naplyville!
Plummet: It's a kitty!
Dungeon Master: 50 experience points! A town of cozy beds must certainly attract many cats.
Plummet: Woohoo!
Helsa: It's very pleasing cartography, Dungeon Master. Congratulations on this job.
Dungeon Master: 50 experience points for flattery! But ... minus 30 experience points for saying "cart."
Helsa: I'll accept 20 without complaining.
Dungeon Master: On this map, you see the grey of roads, the green of forest, the brown of earth, and the darker browns of buildings and walls. Also, darker green spots of Naplyville's many gardens and parks. In the ears there's croppage. This northern end is where adventurers have had their arrival. Immediately near the gates are two inns with signs. "Cozy beds here!" and "Slumber with comfort!" Also name signs. Hmm ... "Bedzere Inn" and "Slumbfort Hotel." Many folk walk the streets, people of all sorts.
Grolka: Are hoodlums an included sort?
Dungeon Master: Only a few arouse your hoodlum suspecting. Most appear farmers -- turnip farmers in large numbers, and also apple orcharders and growers of spinach. Shops are here also, repairers of shoes or sword emporiums or a boat maker. That shop is unpopular because no river or lake is near. A shopkeeper on the porch appears grim.
Bingly: Maybe a view of an octopus would cheer him with thoughts of the sea. Possibly I should visit him later.
Helsa: Does any shop nearby have an appearance of ownership by a crafty old woman?
Dungeon Master: No. That one must be farther into the town.
Pilchard: What about launderers?
Dungeon Master: No immediate sight of a laundry shop appears. You notice, though -- wandering there and here are other adventuresome-looking sorts. One has armor and a sword very great. Another looks wizardly. Also, there is one with a habit.
Rouge: Like picking his nose? Or like a drinking habit?
Dungeon Master: No, it's a worn habit. She is a nun of the combative sort.
Bingly: Worn meaning she's wearing it, or worn meaning it's frayed?
Dungeon Master: It's both. Her appearance is holy, but impoverished.
Grolka: I assume it's spiritual in its holiness, not holey as if eaten by moths.
Bingly: It could be moths that are causing the fraying. Her habit could be being a-frayed of moths.
Pilchard: Oh, ow. That one felt like you're lacking practice recently, Claire.
Dungeon Master: Zero experience points.
Helsa: Returning to the game ... if just from near the gate, already three adventurer types are seen, and easily the town must be five or six times the size observed so far, then it's possible Naplyville contains dozens of such individuals.
Rouge: Or adventurers always stop at the first inn seen, and these ones have rooms at Bedzere Inn or Slumbfort Hotel.
Pilchard: We didn't stop at the first inn seen.
Grolka: Possibly it's unnoticed by Pilchard that we are unusual.
Helsa: My preference for our description would be "exceptional." But it's true that I may have estimated with recklessness.
Rouge: I desire to examine the folk here for individuals of wealthy but careless appearance. As a thieveling tiefling, I need practice for my pocket pickery.
Dungeon Master: Observe my preparation! This is an examination for deducing clues, so "Investigation" skill is the useful one.
Rouge: Hm. That skill I have proficient in, but not the expert kind. Can't I use Perception? It's a little better for me.
Dungeon Master: Perception is, "Do I notice a person hiding?" Investigation is, "Can I conclude things about a person who is not hiding?" So my Dungeon Mastering preparation insists, Investigation is the skill.
Rouge: Well, it's only one point worse, at least. Ah! My roll is 18, plus 2 is 20.
Dungeon Master: 50 experience points! A town of cozy beds must certainly attract many cats.
Plummet: Woohoo!
Helsa: It's very pleasing cartography, Dungeon Master. Congratulations on this job.
Dungeon Master: 50 experience points for flattery! But ... minus 30 experience points for saying "cart."
Helsa: I'll accept 20 without complaining.
Dungeon Master: On this map, you see the grey of roads, the green of forest, the brown of earth, and the darker browns of buildings and walls. Also, darker green spots of Naplyville's many gardens and parks. In the ears there's croppage. This northern end is where adventurers have had their arrival. Immediately near the gates are two inns with signs. "Cozy beds here!" and "Slumber with comfort!" Also name signs. Hmm ... "Bedzere Inn" and "Slumbfort Hotel." Many folk walk the streets, people of all sorts.
Grolka: Are hoodlums an included sort?
Dungeon Master: Only a few arouse your hoodlum suspecting. Most appear farmers -- turnip farmers in large numbers, and also apple orcharders and growers of spinach. Shops are here also, repairers of shoes or sword emporiums or a boat maker. That shop is unpopular because no river or lake is near. A shopkeeper on the porch appears grim.
Bingly: Maybe a view of an octopus would cheer him with thoughts of the sea. Possibly I should visit him later.
Helsa: Does any shop nearby have an appearance of ownership by a crafty old woman?
Dungeon Master: No. That one must be farther into the town.
Pilchard: What about launderers?
Dungeon Master: No immediate sight of a laundry shop appears. You notice, though -- wandering there and here are other adventuresome-looking sorts. One has armor and a sword very great. Another looks wizardly. Also, there is one with a habit.
Rouge: Like picking his nose? Or like a drinking habit?
Dungeon Master: No, it's a worn habit. She is a nun of the combative sort.
Bingly: Worn meaning she's wearing it, or worn meaning it's frayed?
Dungeon Master: It's both. Her appearance is holy, but impoverished.
Grolka: I assume it's spiritual in its holiness, not holey as if eaten by moths.
Bingly: It could be moths that are causing the fraying. Her habit could be being a-frayed of moths.
Pilchard: Oh, ow. That one felt like you're lacking practice recently, Claire.
Dungeon Master: Zero experience points.
Helsa: Returning to the game ... if just from near the gate, already three adventurer types are seen, and easily the town must be five or six times the size observed so far, then it's possible Naplyville contains dozens of such individuals.
Rouge: Or adventurers always stop at the first inn seen, and these ones have rooms at Bedzere Inn or Slumbfort Hotel.
Pilchard: We didn't stop at the first inn seen.
Grolka: Possibly it's unnoticed by Pilchard that we are unusual.
Helsa: My preference for our description would be "exceptional." But it's true that I may have estimated with recklessness.
Rouge: I desire to examine the folk here for individuals of wealthy but careless appearance. As a thieveling tiefling, I need practice for my pocket pickery.
Dungeon Master: Observe my preparation! This is an examination for deducing clues, so "Investigation" skill is the useful one.
Rouge: Hm. That skill I have proficient in, but not the expert kind. Can't I use Perception? It's a little better for me.
Dungeon Master: Perception is, "Do I notice a person hiding?" Investigation is, "Can I conclude things about a person who is not hiding?" So my Dungeon Mastering preparation insists, Investigation is the skill.
Rouge: Well, it's only one point worse, at least. Ah! My roll is 18, plus 2 is 20.
Dungeon Master: Tch. So sad the roll was not 21 and achievement of success.
Rouge: What!
Dungeon Master: That was jokery. A 20 allows the notice of some well-dressed and drunkardly sort leaving a tavern with obvious stagger.
Rouge: I pursue him!
Bingly: Or her?
Dungeon Master: Yes, it's a her. 25 experience points! Young and cute and blond. Will you victimize her?
Plummet: Eep! I hope not!
Rouge: Where is the fairness tonight? I feel plotted against.
Dungeon Master: So, do you abandon this notion of thievery?
Rouge: No! I am of chaotic chaotic alignment, non-remorseful completely! I stealth at her with a roll of ... oop. Only 10.
Dungeon Master: She hears your stealthless step and turns immediately. But it's too fast a spin for her boozely stomach. She must Constitution save or hurl in your direction. Ah, an 18 seems lucky for the skulking tiefling ...
Rouge: Yeah, that's got to save.
Dungeon Master: But observe more Dungeon Master preparedness! So many drinks she has had, it forces her roll at Disadvantage! The second roll is 4 -- worse than 18 and much too poor to save. Her vomit expels in your direction loudly! BARRRF! You can roll a save with Dexterity.
Rouge: I roll an 18 total, and there will be great anger if 18 does not save versus barfery.
Dungeon Master: It does. The blond boozer sicks all over the street just where you stood before dodging. Much noisy and extensive heavery with her hands on her knees.
Rouge: Aha! I spot vulnerability. With a pretend of concerned passer-by, I say, "Oh, are you all right?" and hold back her hair for her. When the heavery stops, I will pat her back one-handed and attempt a pocket-picking with the other. My attempt is 22 for Sleight of Hand.
Dungeon Master: You retrieve something from a pocket inside her fancy coat.
Rouge: Yes! A coin pouch? A wallet?
Dungeon Master: Do you stop here to examine?
Rouge: No, I have Wisdom 13, so probably I'm more sensible than that. It goes into my own pocket instead.
Dungeon Master: She looks at you so very thankful. "Oh!" she says. "So kind! I am glad to avoid hair full of vomit with your assistance."
Pilchard: How far away is this happening? Are we all just watching Rouge engage in such chicanery?
Plummet: Well, do we even know she's thievish? Probably in our ride from Spinrut, the likely of volunteering criminality was low.
Grolka: Grolka is hungry. She looks for dining opportunities instead of staring at the antics of companions.
Helsa: Yes, probably dinner would suit our entire party, after so much traveling and blight fighting. I accompany the orc.
Bingly: I must walk my octopus. Is there a fountain or horse-trough nearby?
Dungeon Master: These motives of individuality seem more likely than all five carefully observing the tiefling. But you can choose your own role-playery approach, Pilchard.
Pilchard: Probably I'd want to find lodging, I suppose. What about you, sister?
Plummet: Yes! Somewhere with cozy beds. Although maybe at least learn where there is laundry first. Or maybe dinner. I don't know.
Dungeon Master: So then, Grolka sees restaurants and taverns nearby. A carving of roasted hog head with its mouth biting an apple is over a door down the street, and a placard is painted with the foamy mug of beer or ale that implies tavernage. One sign says, "Tasty turnip pies."
Rouge: What!
Dungeon Master: That was jokery. A 20 allows the notice of some well-dressed and drunkardly sort leaving a tavern with obvious stagger.
Rouge: I pursue him!
Bingly: Or her?
Dungeon Master: Yes, it's a her. 25 experience points! Young and cute and blond. Will you victimize her?
Plummet: Eep! I hope not!
Rouge: Where is the fairness tonight? I feel plotted against.
Dungeon Master: So, do you abandon this notion of thievery?
Rouge: No! I am of chaotic chaotic alignment, non-remorseful completely! I stealth at her with a roll of ... oop. Only 10.
Dungeon Master: She hears your stealthless step and turns immediately. But it's too fast a spin for her boozely stomach. She must Constitution save or hurl in your direction. Ah, an 18 seems lucky for the skulking tiefling ...
Rouge: Yeah, that's got to save.
Dungeon Master: But observe more Dungeon Master preparedness! So many drinks she has had, it forces her roll at Disadvantage! The second roll is 4 -- worse than 18 and much too poor to save. Her vomit expels in your direction loudly! BARRRF! You can roll a save with Dexterity.
Rouge: I roll an 18 total, and there will be great anger if 18 does not save versus barfery.
Dungeon Master: It does. The blond boozer sicks all over the street just where you stood before dodging. Much noisy and extensive heavery with her hands on her knees.
Rouge: Aha! I spot vulnerability. With a pretend of concerned passer-by, I say, "Oh, are you all right?" and hold back her hair for her. When the heavery stops, I will pat her back one-handed and attempt a pocket-picking with the other. My attempt is 22 for Sleight of Hand.
Dungeon Master: You retrieve something from a pocket inside her fancy coat.
Rouge: Yes! A coin pouch? A wallet?
Dungeon Master: Do you stop here to examine?
Rouge: No, I have Wisdom 13, so probably I'm more sensible than that. It goes into my own pocket instead.
Dungeon Master: She looks at you so very thankful. "Oh!" she says. "So kind! I am glad to avoid hair full of vomit with your assistance."
Pilchard: How far away is this happening? Are we all just watching Rouge engage in such chicanery?
Plummet: Well, do we even know she's thievish? Probably in our ride from Spinrut, the likely of volunteering criminality was low.
Grolka: Grolka is hungry. She looks for dining opportunities instead of staring at the antics of companions.
Helsa: Yes, probably dinner would suit our entire party, after so much traveling and blight fighting. I accompany the orc.
Bingly: I must walk my octopus. Is there a fountain or horse-trough nearby?
Dungeon Master: These motives of individuality seem more likely than all five carefully observing the tiefling. But you can choose your own role-playery approach, Pilchard.
Pilchard: Probably I'd want to find lodging, I suppose. What about you, sister?
Plummet: Yes! Somewhere with cozy beds. Although maybe at least learn where there is laundry first. Or maybe dinner. I don't know.
Dungeon Master: So then, Grolka sees restaurants and taverns nearby. A carving of roasted hog head with its mouth biting an apple is over a door down the street, and a placard is painted with the foamy mug of beer or ale that implies tavernage. One sign says, "Tasty turnip pies."
Grolka: I will skip the turnip pies and ask if anyone wants to head to the tavern with me.
Helsa: My hermit past thinks a turnip pie might not be bad, but I adhere to my plan of going with Grolka.
Bingly: I'm still on lookout for troughs and fountains.
Pilchard: Well, Penny, should we Plume mages join them or further explore for a laundry or different hotels?
Plummet: I roll a save of Constitution to see how hungered I am. Oh, 19! Definitely, I'm sturdy enough to explore and not rush to dinner.
Helsa: My hermit past thinks a turnip pie might not be bad, but I adhere to my plan of going with Grolka.
Bingly: I'm still on lookout for troughs and fountains.
Pilchard: Well, Penny, should we Plume mages join them or further explore for a laundry or different hotels?
Plummet: I roll a save of Constitution to see how hungered I am. Oh, 19! Definitely, I'm sturdy enough to explore and not rush to dinner.
Dungeon Master: In this case, the Plume mages must wander farther into town past where Rouge assists with the yarking of her crimed victim.
Pilchard: I will call out to the orc and ranger, "Save us a seat and we'll met you shortly!"
Pilchard: I will call out to the orc and ranger, "Save us a seat and we'll met you shortly!"
Grolka: Which ability do we use for rolling a seat Save?
Helsa: Very amusing question. And, I hope, rhetorical.
Dungeon Master: Rouge, the blond barfer says now she has more room for drinking. She invites you to do some.
Helsa: Very amusing question. And, I hope, rhetorical.
Dungeon Master: Rouge, the blond barfer says now she has more room for drinking. She invites you to do some.
Rouge: I tell her this appeals to me, but I'm so poor. Is she paying?
Dungeon Master: Yes. She tells you, "Follow me to a bar I know that is exceptional."
Pilchard: Hmm. Unaware of the tiefling's thievery, I tell my sister, "I bet Rouge could get some, if she plays this in suave enough fashion."
Plummet: Do you think she's interested in such activities?
Dungeon Master: Yes. She tells you, "Follow me to a bar I know that is exceptional."
Pilchard: Hmm. Unaware of the tiefling's thievery, I tell my sister, "I bet Rouge could get some, if she plays this in suave enough fashion."
Plummet: Do you think she's interested in such activities?
Rouge: Literally, my last name is "Hornytail."
Plummet: Oh, that's right.
Plummet: Oh, that's right.
Dungeon Master: Which group should be first? Let's initiative!
Pilchard: You can roll for us, Penny. My rolls are so poor.
Plummet: So much pressure! Now look, I roll a 3.
Pilchard: You can roll for us, Penny. My rolls are so poor.
Plummet: So much pressure! Now look, I roll a 3.
Grolka: Since I'm leading the way with Helsa coming after, our initiative is 14.
Helsa: Good job. Most laudable dicing.
Rouge: I roll 14 also, though.
Dungeon Master: Bingly will decide which 14 is superior for initiating!
Helsa: Good job. Most laudable dicing.
Rouge: I roll 14 also, though.
Dungeon Master: Bingly will decide which 14 is superior for initiating!
Bingly: Me? All right. Rouge is following a drunk stumbler, so probably less speedy than a hungry orc and ranger.
Dungeon Master: Okay! What is Bingly's roll, then?
Dungeon Master: Okay! What is Bingly's roll, then?
Bingly: Aha! 18!
Dungeon Master: First is Bingly. Nearby, you see a trough. But drinking at it is a mean-looking, perhaps octopus-eating horse. No fountains in sight on this street, but roll to see if you can Perceive one closer to the town's center.
Dungeon Master: First is Bingly. Nearby, you see a trough. But drinking at it is a mean-looking, perhaps octopus-eating horse. No fountains in sight on this street, but roll to see if you can Perceive one closer to the town's center.
Bingly: I roll a 5, minus 2 for poor Wisdom, so there's no hope of seeing far into town. Evil horse trough it must be. Possibly, though I can Animal Handle this horse into being peaceable with my familiar. To improve odds, I will buy turnips. In this town, there should be some close by, correct?
Dungeon Master: Yes, one copper piece each.
Dungeon Master: Yes, one copper piece each.
Bingly: I buy four and approach the horse so skillfully with my Animal Handling proficiency. "Look, horse! Turnips!" I offer it one.
Dungeon Master: Roll your skill. You may have Advantage for the turnip-giving.
Plummet: All right! This should be easy.
Dungeon Master: Roll your skill. You may have Advantage for the turnip-giving.
Plummet: All right! This should be easy.
Bingly: Well, I have skill, but my poor Wisdom cancels it out. Of course, poor Wisdom also means I'm not aware my Handling is mediocre. My dice produce rolls of 10 and 11.
Dungeon Master: This horse is hostile, but hungry. It snatches at the turnip, trying to bite your fingers in this process. Only a 3 to-hit, though. It gets only the turnip, not fingers.
Dungeon Master: This horse is hostile, but hungry. It snatches at the turnip, trying to bite your fingers in this process. Only a 3 to-hit, though. It gets only the turnip, not fingers.
Bingly: I unleash my octopus from its pocket dimension into the trough.
Dungeon Master: He is pleased to be out, and frolics in one end of the trough. The horse's anger intensifies! Roll initiative.
Dungeon Master: He is pleased to be out, and frolics in one end of the trough. The horse's anger intensifies! Roll initiative.
Bingly: Mine is 14. My octopus, 21!
Dungeon Master: It's 2 for the horse.
Dungeon Master: It's 2 for the horse.
Bingly: Hmm. A familiar can't attack, and the only octopus action is squirting ink, which is a reaction. Seems like my octopus only frolics. My turn is to offer another turnip.
Dungeon Master: Again, the horse snaps. 9! With its combat plus, it hits! The Manual of Monstrous offers only hoof damage, so I will improvise for a horse bite. I think 1 to 2 is fair, and I roll 1.
Dungeon Master: Again, the horse snaps. 9! With its combat plus, it hits! The Manual of Monstrous offers only hoof damage, so I will improvise for a horse bite. I think 1 to 2 is fair, and I roll 1.
Bingly: Ouch! Wait, though. Did the horse not even have to chew turnip number one?
Dungeon Master: Oh. Correct, it's another zero experience point fail of Dungeon Mastery. This turn it must chew. However, it eyes your finger angrily while munching the turnip.
Dungeon Master: Oh. Correct, it's another zero experience point fail of Dungeon Mastery. This turn it must chew. However, it eyes your finger angrily while munching the turnip.
Bingly: Its anger and my poor hit points suggest strategy. On my new turn, I toss the turnip into the horse's end of the trough. Do I roll to hit?
Dungeon Master: You're very close. I think it's accomplished even by just dropping the turnip in.
Bingly: Good. Dropping something is no action, right? So my action will be dodging, in case it attacks my fingers instead of the turnip.
Dungeon Master: The horse observes the sinking turnip and attempts to retrieve it.
Bingly: Aha! does this mean its head is in water at the end of its turn?
Dungeon Master: If its first roll is a miss, yes. And the roll is 2.
Bingly: Excellent! Now the octopus can engage in reaction! Ink squirt! The trough fills with octopus ink. Everything inside five feet, obscured! Water only, obviously. It can't ink-cloud the air.
Dungeon Master: The horse rages at denial of turnip and inking of drinking water. You think on its next turn, hostility increases.
Bingly: My action is, Disengage. From outside its reach, I watch. With telepathy of the Find Familiar spell, I tell my octopus, "You have one minute to frolic! That's when your ink will fade and an angry horse will see you!" Then telepathically I enjoy its frolicking until the minute is over. When time is up, I send it back to the pocket dimension. Now my adventure is over, so I'll proceed tavern-wise to catch up to our orc and ranger.
Dungeon Master: Very good! 15 experience points for foiling an unpleasant horse. Next it's the taverners' initiative. You approach the sign of a foamy mug. This tavern is named ... Mug and Glug! It's a drinking sound, correct? "Glug!"
Grolka: Sounds good to me. What do we find in the interior?
Dungeon Master: This tavern has popularity, it's obvious. So many drinkers and gamesters playing cards and rowdy song-singing. Also much dinnering -- plates of food being devoured gustily.
Helsa: I conduct an examination of the room for empty tables ready for us to occupy. Also, what meals here appear to have the most appeal?
Dungeon Master: Very few tables of the open sort. In fact, none. Only at tables of cardage are there empty seats. Probably you'll have to gamble if you sit there, though.
Grolka: No problems from that -- I find gambling and eating superior to eating only. I seek the closest table with room. How about it, Helsa? Will you gamble also?
Helsa: I am poor with bluffing. A decline in my funds is inevitable if I must gamble, so I will sleuth after a place at the bar instead.
Dungeon Master: You find one. Grolka observes thuggish gamblers at the closest table with room. More refined cardsters are visible farther away.
Grolka: Thugs seem easier to overcome at gambling. I sit at their table.
Dungeon Master: One says, "Who invited you?" She is a shouldersome woman with thick red hair that juts from her head. An ear has a scar shaped like tooth marks.
Grolka: I tell her the empty chair invited me, and also my tired feet from long journeys.
Dungeon Master: She says her friend is expected soon. "Depart! Your participation does not interest us!"
Grolka: I demand to wager. We must play at cards for a hand, and if I lose, I get to stay.
Dungeon Master: She says it's usual for the winner to pick what happens, not the one defeated.
Grolka: I ask whether she likes to gamble more with a loser or a winner.
Dungeon Master: Her eyebrows clench from thinking. She agrees to your wager. Cards are dealt! Do you attempt a loss, or a win?
Grolka: It's a win either way, right? Gold pieces one way or a place to sit the other. Still, I try to win the game.
Dungeon Master: It's a difficulty of 20 to win. Do you have cards proficiency?
Grolka: Unfortunately, no. Only with dice. But I roll a 19 and there is a plus for Wisdom, which makes 20!
Dungeon Master: Your triumph is rewarded with 7 gold pieces.
Grolka: While playing, has a wait-person come with food?
Dungeon Master: Yes, at a cost of one or two silver pieces, depending on your requirements for quality.
Grolka: One-silver food is fine for a barbarous orc.
Helsa: Also for a hermitly elf, sitting at the bar.
Dungeon Master: At the bar, food arrives more quickly. At the table, it is just coming when Grolka achieves victory, but the shouldersome woman is angry. "You were supposed to lose!"
Grolka: "No, only to leave if I did not lose," is what I tell her. But also, I add, "Oh ... of course, you can only win back your 7 gold pieces if I stay for more gambling."
Dungeon Master: Her outrage at this! It's very great. She insists -- "Take your food elsewhere!"
Grolka: I look over each of my shoulders. Unless someone is there, I tell her, "I don't see others looking to sit and gamble with you. Even if you won't lose more gold to me at cards, I think I'll remain until my dining is complete."
Dungeon Master: Her companions at the table are also thuggish, remember. They look at her with eyes full of brutely questions. You can see them in their glares: "Should we bash this orc, boss?" or, "I lost also. Let's do some revenge, right?"
Grolka: How are their armaments? Also, what is the food? If there's meat on a bone, I pick it up to gnaw while waiting.
Dungeon Master: It's a whole chicken, so there are drumsticks. The thuggish cardsters have knives and clubs, mostly. Maybe one has only very large fists. There are three, plus the woman: a dwarf, a goliath, and a gnome of extreme meanness in features.
Grolka: I pat my battle axe with intimidation and speak even though I am chewing all the meat from a chicken leg in one bite. "Probably you can defeat me if you try. But I think someone will lose fingers or a nose at least. You see how quickly I can eat. Seems like letting me finish and leave is wiser."
Helsa: Do I perceive this? Is there a roll?
Dungeon Master: Yes, rolls for Perceiving and also for Intimidating, one from each of you.
Grolka: Intimidation is 21 with my proficiency of Intimidate.
Helsa: Nng. Perception roll is 6 even with my skill of 4 for a plus.
Dungeon Master: Helsa has attention only to consume her meal. Grolka's lackadaisy changes brutely question-looks of thugs into looks of less certain questioning. The thick-hair woman narrows eyes at Grolka and says nothing, only waiting with arms crossed.
Grolka: Since I have 7 extra gold pieces, I tell a wench of serving, "Bring ales for this crew of card-losers. I will pay."
Helsa: The provocation here seems deliberate.
Dungeon Master: Some thugs remain intimidated. Others realize that they thirst. Violence is averted!
Bingly: Have I arrived from my octopus-and-horse adventure?
Dungeon Master: Yes. Roll dice of percentage. You want 25 or less.
Bingly: The percentage is 28.
Dungeon Master: So unfortunate! A table becomes available near the door ... but other patrons seize it before you can approach. On 25 or less, you could have rolled initiative to precede them.
Bingly: That's okay. My initiating most likely would be poor anyway. If room still exists at the bar, I will join Helsa.
Dungeon Master: A drinking town-woman sits between one empty spot and Helsa. This is the closest you can get.
Bingly: I take the empty spot and request from the bartender his largest glass pitcher, filled with water.
Dungeon Master: He brings it.
Bingly: Time for octopus frolicking! I release the familiar from the pocket-ish dimension.
Dungeon Master: It is happy to be out again. The town woman is alarmed!
Bingly: I tell her fear is unnecessary. "An octopus is harmless, and probably will not crawl out of its pitcher." Telepathically, I order the octopus to stare at her. And also, to lift the tips of its tentacles up over the pitcher rim as if exploring.
Dungeon Master: She drinks quickly and leaves.
Bingly: Excellent! I slide over to accompany Helsa at the bar.
Grolka: Do I notice the vacated seat beside Bingly?
Dungeon Master: Perception roll! With advantage due to the noticeability of an octopus in a pitcher.
Grolka: 12, plus 1 is 13.
Dungeon Master: You observe it.
Grolka: I stand up with my remaining chicken-body. "Thank you for the wagering," I tell the thugly group. "Now I will finish my meal elsewhere." Then I go to the open bar space.
Dungeon Master: Accomplished! Pilchard, Plummet, are you ready to role-play the search for laundry?
Pilchard: Only if it's not boring. Not every activity must be role-played, you know.
Dungeon Master: It is so boring! Laundry -- even a Dungeon Master of great skill would have challenge creating excitement with laundry. We can skip if Plummet agrees.
Plummet: Sure, but does that mean we find one?
Dungeon Master: Yes. Boronio's Booth of Boringly Cleansed Clothing! It is closed, so you must note its location for future return.
Pilchard: We do so.
Plummet: Now for taverning!
Dungeon Master: All adventurers may dine and glug into the evening as they like. Probably this is a good conclusion for session number two. 100 experience points each for townly adventures!
Bingly: Ugh! Only 25 more points of experience and I would arrive at level 2!
Rouge: 50 points remain before leveling is in my grasp.
Pilchard: I'm at 300 exactly. Ping!
Plummet: Yes, your wizardly sister as well!
Grolka: Likewise an orc.
Helsa: Hmm. Somehow, the hermitly ranger has exceeded you all. 320 points.
Dungeon Master: Those over 300 may level before next session! So sorry to the laggards of leveling. I should have awarded points more carefully.
Bingly: It's okay, when so much octopoidal entertainment was achieved.
Rouge: Probably the experience of holding back hair from a vomitly bar-hopper's sicking is not worth a level.
Dungeon Master: Still, I will be more careful for future escapades of thieving and puke protecting.
Pilchard: Super-fun session, DM! Your talents are growing.
Plummet: Yes! So masterful and dungeony!
Grolka: I have excitement for next time.
Helsa: Many compliments are deserved.
Dungeon Master: Thank you all! Next time ... a new day! Goodnight!
Dungeon Master: You're very close. I think it's accomplished even by just dropping the turnip in.
Bingly: Good. Dropping something is no action, right? So my action will be dodging, in case it attacks my fingers instead of the turnip.
Dungeon Master: The horse observes the sinking turnip and attempts to retrieve it.
Bingly: Aha! does this mean its head is in water at the end of its turn?
Dungeon Master: If its first roll is a miss, yes. And the roll is 2.
Bingly: Excellent! Now the octopus can engage in reaction! Ink squirt! The trough fills with octopus ink. Everything inside five feet, obscured! Water only, obviously. It can't ink-cloud the air.
Dungeon Master: The horse rages at denial of turnip and inking of drinking water. You think on its next turn, hostility increases.
Bingly: My action is, Disengage. From outside its reach, I watch. With telepathy of the Find Familiar spell, I tell my octopus, "You have one minute to frolic! That's when your ink will fade and an angry horse will see you!" Then telepathically I enjoy its frolicking until the minute is over. When time is up, I send it back to the pocket dimension. Now my adventure is over, so I'll proceed tavern-wise to catch up to our orc and ranger.
Dungeon Master: Very good! 15 experience points for foiling an unpleasant horse. Next it's the taverners' initiative. You approach the sign of a foamy mug. This tavern is named ... Mug and Glug! It's a drinking sound, correct? "Glug!"
Grolka: Sounds good to me. What do we find in the interior?
Dungeon Master: This tavern has popularity, it's obvious. So many drinkers and gamesters playing cards and rowdy song-singing. Also much dinnering -- plates of food being devoured gustily.
Helsa: I conduct an examination of the room for empty tables ready for us to occupy. Also, what meals here appear to have the most appeal?
Dungeon Master: Very few tables of the open sort. In fact, none. Only at tables of cardage are there empty seats. Probably you'll have to gamble if you sit there, though.
Grolka: No problems from that -- I find gambling and eating superior to eating only. I seek the closest table with room. How about it, Helsa? Will you gamble also?
Helsa: I am poor with bluffing. A decline in my funds is inevitable if I must gamble, so I will sleuth after a place at the bar instead.
Dungeon Master: You find one. Grolka observes thuggish gamblers at the closest table with room. More refined cardsters are visible farther away.
Grolka: Thugs seem easier to overcome at gambling. I sit at their table.
Dungeon Master: One says, "Who invited you?" She is a shouldersome woman with thick red hair that juts from her head. An ear has a scar shaped like tooth marks.
Grolka: I tell her the empty chair invited me, and also my tired feet from long journeys.
Dungeon Master: She says her friend is expected soon. "Depart! Your participation does not interest us!"
Grolka: I demand to wager. We must play at cards for a hand, and if I lose, I get to stay.
Dungeon Master: She says it's usual for the winner to pick what happens, not the one defeated.
Grolka: I ask whether she likes to gamble more with a loser or a winner.
Dungeon Master: Her eyebrows clench from thinking. She agrees to your wager. Cards are dealt! Do you attempt a loss, or a win?
Grolka: It's a win either way, right? Gold pieces one way or a place to sit the other. Still, I try to win the game.
Dungeon Master: It's a difficulty of 20 to win. Do you have cards proficiency?
Grolka: Unfortunately, no. Only with dice. But I roll a 19 and there is a plus for Wisdom, which makes 20!
Dungeon Master: Your triumph is rewarded with 7 gold pieces.
Grolka: While playing, has a wait-person come with food?
Dungeon Master: Yes, at a cost of one or two silver pieces, depending on your requirements for quality.
Grolka: One-silver food is fine for a barbarous orc.
Helsa: Also for a hermitly elf, sitting at the bar.
Dungeon Master: At the bar, food arrives more quickly. At the table, it is just coming when Grolka achieves victory, but the shouldersome woman is angry. "You were supposed to lose!"
Grolka: "No, only to leave if I did not lose," is what I tell her. But also, I add, "Oh ... of course, you can only win back your 7 gold pieces if I stay for more gambling."
Dungeon Master: Her outrage at this! It's very great. She insists -- "Take your food elsewhere!"
Grolka: I look over each of my shoulders. Unless someone is there, I tell her, "I don't see others looking to sit and gamble with you. Even if you won't lose more gold to me at cards, I think I'll remain until my dining is complete."
Dungeon Master: Her companions at the table are also thuggish, remember. They look at her with eyes full of brutely questions. You can see them in their glares: "Should we bash this orc, boss?" or, "I lost also. Let's do some revenge, right?"
Grolka: How are their armaments? Also, what is the food? If there's meat on a bone, I pick it up to gnaw while waiting.
Dungeon Master: It's a whole chicken, so there are drumsticks. The thuggish cardsters have knives and clubs, mostly. Maybe one has only very large fists. There are three, plus the woman: a dwarf, a goliath, and a gnome of extreme meanness in features.
Grolka: I pat my battle axe with intimidation and speak even though I am chewing all the meat from a chicken leg in one bite. "Probably you can defeat me if you try. But I think someone will lose fingers or a nose at least. You see how quickly I can eat. Seems like letting me finish and leave is wiser."
Helsa: Do I perceive this? Is there a roll?
Dungeon Master: Yes, rolls for Perceiving and also for Intimidating, one from each of you.
Grolka: Intimidation is 21 with my proficiency of Intimidate.
Helsa: Nng. Perception roll is 6 even with my skill of 4 for a plus.
Dungeon Master: Helsa has attention only to consume her meal. Grolka's lackadaisy changes brutely question-looks of thugs into looks of less certain questioning. The thick-hair woman narrows eyes at Grolka and says nothing, only waiting with arms crossed.
Grolka: Since I have 7 extra gold pieces, I tell a wench of serving, "Bring ales for this crew of card-losers. I will pay."
Helsa: The provocation here seems deliberate.
Dungeon Master: Some thugs remain intimidated. Others realize that they thirst. Violence is averted!
Bingly: Have I arrived from my octopus-and-horse adventure?
Dungeon Master: Yes. Roll dice of percentage. You want 25 or less.
Bingly: The percentage is 28.
Dungeon Master: So unfortunate! A table becomes available near the door ... but other patrons seize it before you can approach. On 25 or less, you could have rolled initiative to precede them.
Bingly: That's okay. My initiating most likely would be poor anyway. If room still exists at the bar, I will join Helsa.
Dungeon Master: A drinking town-woman sits between one empty spot and Helsa. This is the closest you can get.
Bingly: I take the empty spot and request from the bartender his largest glass pitcher, filled with water.
Dungeon Master: He brings it.
Bingly: Time for octopus frolicking! I release the familiar from the pocket-ish dimension.
Dungeon Master: It is happy to be out again. The town woman is alarmed!
Bingly: I tell her fear is unnecessary. "An octopus is harmless, and probably will not crawl out of its pitcher." Telepathically, I order the octopus to stare at her. And also, to lift the tips of its tentacles up over the pitcher rim as if exploring.
Dungeon Master: She drinks quickly and leaves.
Bingly: Excellent! I slide over to accompany Helsa at the bar.
Grolka: Do I notice the vacated seat beside Bingly?
Dungeon Master: Perception roll! With advantage due to the noticeability of an octopus in a pitcher.
Grolka: 12, plus 1 is 13.
Dungeon Master: You observe it.
Grolka: I stand up with my remaining chicken-body. "Thank you for the wagering," I tell the thugly group. "Now I will finish my meal elsewhere." Then I go to the open bar space.
Dungeon Master: Accomplished! Pilchard, Plummet, are you ready to role-play the search for laundry?
Pilchard: Only if it's not boring. Not every activity must be role-played, you know.
Dungeon Master: It is so boring! Laundry -- even a Dungeon Master of great skill would have challenge creating excitement with laundry. We can skip if Plummet agrees.
Plummet: Sure, but does that mean we find one?
Dungeon Master: Yes. Boronio's Booth of Boringly Cleansed Clothing! It is closed, so you must note its location for future return.
Pilchard: We do so.
Plummet: Now for taverning!
Dungeon Master: All adventurers may dine and glug into the evening as they like. Probably this is a good conclusion for session number two. 100 experience points each for townly adventures!
Bingly: Ugh! Only 25 more points of experience and I would arrive at level 2!
Rouge: 50 points remain before leveling is in my grasp.
Pilchard: I'm at 300 exactly. Ping!
Plummet: Yes, your wizardly sister as well!
Grolka: Likewise an orc.
Helsa: Hmm. Somehow, the hermitly ranger has exceeded you all. 320 points.
Dungeon Master: Those over 300 may level before next session! So sorry to the laggards of leveling. I should have awarded points more carefully.
Bingly: It's okay, when so much octopoidal entertainment was achieved.
Rouge: Probably the experience of holding back hair from a vomitly bar-hopper's sicking is not worth a level.
Dungeon Master: Still, I will be more careful for future escapades of thieving and puke protecting.
Pilchard: Super-fun session, DM! Your talents are growing.
Plummet: Yes! So masterful and dungeony!
Grolka: I have excitement for next time.
Helsa: Many compliments are deserved.
Dungeon Master: Thank you all! Next time ... a new day! Goodnight!
(Readers can now click and find this "new day" through magic of linking!)
