Games Logs

The great hag’s house moves with a rolling gait in wide circles as Duster waits. Its great chicken legs carry the structure back and forth

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 afternoon passes slowly at the Martikov camp. The family is damp and tired, displaced from their own home by something none of them are equipped to fight alone. Davian Martikov, the family patriarch, carries himself with the settled authority of a man accustomed to being obeyed, and when he summons Krelldutt to speak with him privately, the rest of the family gives them the privacy without being obvious. This is simply how things work with Martikovs.

When Exethanter finally retires, retreating into the silence of his quarters with the slow, shuffling certainty of a man who has lived too l

Torgan stomps out of the new Burgomaster's office into the rain, leaving Dunlar bewildered behind him, pondering the newcomers choices. Torg

The dining room is warm with the illusion of plenty. The long table groans beneath an impossible spread — roasted meats glistening with imag

Chase Stone. Erebos, Bleak-Hearted [Digital image] . Wizards of the Coast, 2020. The party greets the morning with something close to relief. Eight hours have passed without the ground swallowing them, without ambush, without catastrophe. Borark is mended — or mended enough — and that, in Malbolge, counts as a victory worth celebrating. They take a moment to acknowledge it before the dull orange sky reminds them where they are. Kiki fires up the truck. The engine turns over

“So you have decided to go back to 1487. “Sigurd sets down his wrench and leans against the Witherbloom sink he has been repairing. “I appre

As the group grows quieter, whatever has been pressing against the wall grows silent.

Krelldutt the tortle, Torgan the dwarf, and their hired mercenaries set out from the Village of Barovia at mid-morning, heading west along t

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 rest of the night passes without incident, though the cold seeps through even the warmth radiating from Crystal’s portable forge. The ch

In his creaky voice, the lich Exethanter continues into the shocked silence of the temple. “I will arrange for you to receiveThe Ritual of P

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

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

Horse-Reyna’s hooves clatter on the marble pathway as she canters into Silverquill Quad. The elegant colonnade rises before her, its pristin

Komzin, Rakthe, and Bayleaf approach the brazier, and climb within. Komzin selects a yellow stone and casts it into the flickering green flames at the center. The three experience the now-familiar flash of light, the sharp sulfurous smell, and the nauseating pull of magical teleportation.

High above the blazing Wall of Fire that burns above the Tsolenka Pass, Ratrick smolders, wisps of smoke curling from his singed fur. The ac

The battle ends. Reyna crouches halfway up the spiral staircase leading to the dormitory rooms while Rubina sits just above her, shaking her