Games Logs

The Armen do not charge. They advance — measured, deliberate, wearing Arman’s face across every iteration, each one belted with the Giant’s Strength that makes even a clone of a changeling into something genuinely dangerous. The staffs they carry hum with the same force as the one Arman took from Lawrence. Arman himself stands apart from the fray, watching his own face multiply through the chamber, and does nothing. He cannot make himself raise a hand against them. They are h

The Maze simply continues — corridor by corridor, door by door, each turning in on what the traveler least wants to examine. This is, by design, the point. The party is scattered, exhausted, and negotiating with closed and frequently locked doors. Kiki’s movement through the maze is slow, her small clawed feet working harder than they should have to. She crouches before the next locked door and applies her thieves’ tools, but her hands tremble with fatigue. The door remains

The party wastes no time. With Exethanter’s library still humming at their backs, they turn their attention to the matter of reward — and reward, in Barovia, rarely arrives without complication. Neferon regards them with his unsettling golden eyes. “I do not know the stores contained within the Great Library as Exethanter does. And I may only gift you with items we have many of.” Soulfire selects a Feywild Shard from the pile — a resonant crystal that, when metamagic is app

Wintersplinter is already gone, its colossal form crashing through the treeline in the direction of Vallaki. Violet Robin has been sent back to the Martikov vineyard for horses. On the muddy slope of Yester Hill, the old druid and his staff silhouetted in the mist, fighting on. Blinsky and his monkey, Piccolo, lie where they fell — victims of the old man’s lightning. They are alive, barely. Torgen, Feesh, and Krelldutt have closed around the druid, who has proven far stron

The fireball has already done its work. Where the common room of the Hag’s Arms once hosted the ambient misery of Hell’s traveling public

What is left of the taproom of the Hag’s Arm has seen better decades. Kiki flings a Web spell into the churning mass of devils still stan

The librarian — cheerful, oblivious, and armed with an enormous key — locks the doors to the restricted section of the Biblioplex without a

The plan had seemed sound enough, right up until the moment it wasn’t. Arman, wearing the face and form of the nightmare shepherd Lawrenc

The campus feels borrowed. The architecture is right — the Hex Tower doors swing open for them as they always have — but something in the

Krelldutt and his group hold their position at the top of the stairs, hidden from the druids’ sight. Blinsky crouches low, tugging at Krelld

The sled journey done, the comrades stretch after the long ride. An absence of strenuous activity in the bitterly cold environment of Stygia has left them stiff. If not exactly rested, then they are at least not exhausted. The party unpack themselves to stand at the mouth of the Cave of Lost Things. The opening gapes, dark and foul smelling. In the doorway stands a sentient Yeti guardian, easily 9 feet tall, leaning on his halberd. The helm he wears upon his head seems more p

As the truck rolls slowly up to the Hag’s Arms, a landmark in the land of Malbolge, the massive, mummified limb that gives the tavern its na

The party barely has time to catch their breath before the attack comes. The two massive shapes emerge from the swirling snow—abominable ye

Reklaw volunteers for first watch as his companions settle into makeshift beds—some sprawled across the truck’s hood, others curled in its b

The halls of Strixhaven echo with confusion and chaos as the hexmates find themselves scattered across campus, each dealing with their own b

A gathering storm threatens as the eight find their way to the City of the Dead at sunset. The sky churns gray and purple above the ancient

In frustration, Torgan stumps back down the cellar stairs. He has received no support from his new employers, who have gone to bed. With res

The deafening bellow of the great roc tears through the mountain air. The massive creature banks hard, its shadow darkening the bridge as it

Moving on from the piles of items they have found in the Cave of Lost Things, most of them tuck away their treasures. All have valuables, ex

Later, when they compare recollections about the gathering on that first day—before the funeral but after the meeting with the half-vampire