Last week, at the Music City Murderhobos table...

We have only had one character that has survived from the early days. Gale, a hyper cautious elf played by +Laura Bailey. Gale's constant checking of rooms and careful watch on the ceiling for death descending from above came to an end last Friday when they tried to get down the hallway choked with Beholder vines (or as I'm going to release them as an OSR monster, Oglethorn).

They are ultra nasty in that they deal damage by hp remaining, and spread it around (think the eye-lichen from Labyrinth shooting death rays). So when Page, a Chainmail Chick played by +Sarah Edwards waded in with a sword, I rolled 10d6, giving her half the damage. She took only six freaking points on 5d6! Check out the attached photo of the amazing damage roll. The rest round-robined around the table.

Figuring out that this was a very bad idea to melee, the party ducked into the room to the south (with two dead bodies that had been killed by the vines). All except Gale, who paused to check the room for what Laura was convinced was an even worse trap. Alas, the next attack was 9d6, focused on Gale. RIP Gale, who got a Death Certificate.

While Laura was rolling up a Ranger, the party fireballed the tunnel. An expensive solution, but there was 30 feet of the vines on the walls, ceiling and ground. Plus it was riled, and had essentially pinned them in the room.

Next up, the heap creatures in the next room down the corridor. I can't tell you why it worked (the party is still figuring it out), but they wound up being courted by +Brennan W's gnoll PC, who did "the traditional gnoll mating dance" including "butt scoot." Rexx was converted to slimosexual thanks to a Slügs enounter, and that has produced a tremendous number of very strange situations. Including a baby pudding that is pregnant with half-gnolls.

So the acidic heap of rot now follows them around, about 10' wide, slowly undulating, at a slow walk. It was all fun and games until they got stalled in front of a clearly trapped door at the bottom of a stairwell... with the heap behind them. Knowing it was made of rot, they opened a portable hole they had whose other end is somewhere in a lake, pouring water out to fill up to the first step. The heap paused, felt the water a bit, then stopped on the steps. Huzzah for creative solutions!

In silver filigree, the obviously expensive door had ostentatious flourishes and overwrought patterns, all around the huge silver name of the Wizard whose laboratory lay beyond. Along the edges were magic glyphs that our Magic User and Blood Druid read to mean "electricity" and "observe," from which they gathered the door would shock anybody who didn't say something that was the passphrase. And the party had just filled the small chamber they were trapped in with water.

Trying several guesses, it was Sarah's Chainmail Chick that suddenly tried, "Fairik is awesome," realizing that anybody who went in for that fancy a door had some serious ego issues. And yep -- the passphrase was anything praising the wizard.

Afterwards they got attacked by prehistoric water stirges the size of kittens. I'm really having fun coming up with dino-era versions of the traditional monsters. On the way in to the inverted city, I ran through all the white apes, cave bears, neanderthals, and actual dinosaurs, and I wanted the interior to be different.
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