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 cavernous silence of the maze is punctuated by the echoing scuff of boots. The sounds bounce back to their ears, making it impossible to tell from which direction the noises come, despite the evidence of the listener's eyes. Then suddenly, from somewhere — perhaps around the next corner, perhaps from behind them, or perhaps in no place at all — there is maniacal laughter that belongs to no one present. There is also quiet weeping, a child's, high and inconsolable, cutt

“Fall out” would definitely describe what is happening. The truck is falling out of the sky of Malbolge. That detail is important. There is no dramatic pause, no moment of collective realization — the truck simply is in freefall, forty feet above the tavern roof, because this is where Kiki’s spell has placed it. The mapach has the wheel. Vali rides shotgun. Whatever conversation they were having before this moment is now entirely irrelevant. Below, where Kiki cannot see, th

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

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

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

Being in the bathroom of the Hag’s Arms has become, against all reasonable expectation, being part of a command center. Thunk is the first t

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 truck’s engine idles with a low, greasy rumble as the group clocks the malephant. Seven eyes. All of them pointed at the vehicle. Seve

The truck crests a ridge and the sixth layer of Hell opens before them, broken and uneven. Malbolge is nothing like the levels that came

The party had only just settled into uneasy rest at the threshold to Malbolg when the temperature plummets further—impossibly further—and fr