From the forum, here is Maculate’s own personal perspective on what happened. As a side note, it didn’t hit me that we hadn’t gotten his name until after the session was finished; at the time we got distracted trying to catch up to our friends in combat.
That crawler has been following me for days! Run run run run run…all I do since leaving them behind all thanks to this damned crawler. To make matters worse, I had to jump in the water to get away! The Old One must be looking out for me since I survived somehow, only to be rescued by a trio of lightsiders.
How odd that no one asked me my name. Oh well, I didn’t introduce myself because they didn’t ask.
We don’t trust them anyway.
Three of their friends are orc food. Fools want to save them. I wonder what they have done to justify the effort.
Through the march we came to a palisade guarding the orcs. Somehow they saw us as we came over the wall and combat ensued! The healers dropped very quickly for some reason (Perhaps because they forgot they were not infantry and charged head first into the teeth of a skirmish line. Did I say fools? Yes, I see that I did. We state it again. Fools.). At this point, for some reason, the damned animals came after me!
Two of the animals hit me and the first died screaming to my Hellish Rebuke. At this point my magic reserves were spent and The Old One left me with only my cantrips and wits.
The large, remaining orc stepped back when I asked him if he wanted to burn too; and promptly charged me.
When I came to…
The carrion worm that had been pursuing me these last days had sprung into camp to assault the party. Thankfully the orcs seem to be gone.
The dragonborn ran to my side to heal me. Perhaps this one is trustworthy, but probably not.
Somehow while I was returning to my senses, this group of strange lightsiders managed to kill the worm.
We setup in the orc village and took an extended rest.
The bard is insane! He lost a leg to the orc stew pot and now seems obsessed with a prosthetic which was eventually crafted from the orc javelins. (We think that they put the points in the wrong place…)
To add to the oddity of this group of misfits, they voted on whether or not to cross the river. VOTED! Democracy is no basis for running an adventuring company. I should have voted to see if I have a vote. Too late now. We’ll vote next time and find out.
On the far side we found ourselves at a very well tended crop field of mushrooms and wheat. We found a road as well that lead by ruins and a pair of towers and all was illuminated by orbs on pillars giving the light of the surface at dusk. So bright! We travelled to the village/ruins.
Three of the group could enter the temple: both dragonborn and the bard. In the temple they all touched a dwarf in amber and began talking to no one. Well, we think that the dwarf-block didn’t like the way the bard was touching it (or perhaps WHERE he touched it) as somehow Stumpy Bard angered something and the statue in front of the temple came to life and pounded the bard.
Upon the sea of dwarf (Can we call them squats? Probably best not to since there are squats..err…dwarves…in this group. We’ll wait until they die to call them squats.) Upon the sea of dwarf bodies within the temple we found a small cache of silver weapons. The bard attempted to keep the short swords for himself which lead to a conflict between the bard and the non-healing dragonborn. From somewhere, a flaming sphere fell upon the bard and incinerated the greedy flying hopping peg-legged narcissist, and incinerated him. It was really rather saddening if only because it also damaged much of what he was carrying.
Such a pity.
A pity we didn’t do it sooner….Muhahahahahah! Err…Well, back to it I suppose!