Games Logs

The contract room is on fire. The contracts themselves — thousands of them, the accumulated debt of the damned — are burning beautifully. This is not ideal, mostly because Murlack is in the contract room. He is also burning, but likely would not describe the flames that are engulfing his legs as “beautiful,” by any stretch. If anything, there is an urgency to put the flames out. A familiar face appears on the hallway side of the wall of flames. Hope rises in Murlack. It is N

Viktor and Jayce cautiously explore the subterranean chapel. It is empty save for three things: one cage fitted with manacles sized for something with very large arms — or perhaps a neck — one altar, and one ominous door. At the door behind the altar, Viktor leans in, ear to the wood. Behind it, the unmistakable sound of goats. He hisses at Jayce to get his attention. The paladin strides over, slides Viktor aside, and smoothly opens the door. No darkvision. No light. Just t

Jayce, Wilrick, and Jeff stand amid the wreckage of bones. Other skeleton warriors in the garrison prepare to attack. Then, something em

Nesquo's fog still hangs in the tunnel, thick and impenetrable. The cloaker, on fire and annoyed, launches a thrashing attack — and misses everyone. It connects with nothing but air and its own smoldering indignity. Inside the fog, Glumbo strikes Nesquo.

Jeremiah finds himself still shackled to the basement wall, the cold stone at his back, the smell of brimstone faint but persistent in the a

The party meets the cloaker in a narrow corridor with nowhere to run. Nesquo throws up a Wall of Fog spell to buy them cover — thick, impenetrable, blinding everyone inside it equally. Frida takes to the air to get above it. The rest fight by sound and instinct. Krasnyy hurls a dagger into the cloud and connects. The creature screams. That's the only confirmation anyone gets that they're even aiming in the right direction. Tall Glumbo sends Dog Glumbo in. The hellhound does

The cellar of the Ship’s Prow smells of brimstone and mildew. The boarded door is still holding — barely — and from behind it, the voice of

The party faces a choice: pay one scrip for a bunk in the dormitory, or sleep outside in the freezing Stygian air. Most of them pay. Those who don't spend the night on the ice, with the exception of Lynx, suffer for it. Morning finds them exhausted. Some nights in Hell are like that. At dawn, one of the sled's hellhounds pads up to Krasnyy with a leather pouch hanging beneath its chin. Inside: a letter from Proctor Azurath. He has taken the liberty of arranging transport t

The next day, the group decides they need to do a little more shopping before they leave for the Caves of Lost Things. Avoiding the Infernal

“Who is next?” The merragon guard, whose name they have come to discover is Ironbrand, stands before the table of bonding items. Before the

With the arrival in Stygia, the coach crashes into the frozen ground with bone-jarring force. Metal warps and splinters fly. The vehicle careens sideways, gouging a trench through the snow before lurching to a violent stop. The doors burst open, hurling passengers and luggage into the howling arctic waste.

The coach lurches forward and the journey begins. Soon after, the purple tiefling leans to one side against the window and closes his eyes.

The eight adventures mill around the coach depot, beneath the faded wooden sign, “Wallard & Son Transit and Cargo.” They have arrived in sin

Istyher and Astrid, closest to the open door, hear what sounds like several sets of feet tapping across stone. Unable to contain her

The group hear the grinding of stone on stone as the guardian statue’s eyes roll to find Three, dancing atop the altar that stands before it

“I said, that’s a shambling mound!” shouts Nesquo. “There’s no way we can defeat it. It’s too strong!” All except Fuzzy. The wizard, spotting a small brook that runs through the underbrush near the creature casts Shape Water, lifting a five-foot cube of water from the stream. He then manipulates it to hover over the prone creature, thrashing in the shallow hole. Fuzzy allows the block of ice to drop. The squelch is followed by a splat of foul smelling vegetation onto

Eight strangers from different walks of life up and down the Sword Coast find themselves presented with identical letters conscripting them into Her Majesty’s militia. Beneath the Queen’s red and yellow crest, the spade and dagger, each of the similar letters read: Greetings, Citizen! You are commanded to present yourself at the 7th hour of the 28th day of Highsun to the royal airship Windchaser, which will be moored at the Goldmeadow Airfield in Waterdeep’s Castle Ward, ab