A Bunch of Crazy Stuff That Happens

Delving for Deaders 2: Delving for Deaderser
  • Whooat: What do you think we should do?
  • Janda-Shan: Press on.
  • Whooat: And die?
  • Janda-Shan: No.

After Lucan scouted ahead a bit and saw no immediate end to their trek, the party committed to not leaving the dungeon that night, instead facing the likelihood of staying for a month.

They returned to and fortified their supply cache. When Mother Euphasia, backed by a squad of young clerics, opened the door she accepted the party’s decision. The door will be opened again at dawn, 28 days hence. Whooat having invented Morse code (though not explaining why it’s called “Morse” code), the party will coordinate with the temple residents by knocking on the heavy door. Euphasia also shared a powerful item to help the party deal with the trials ahead: a deck of playing cards, still sealed.

Refreshed after a night’s rest, the party headed back down. There was a minor scuffle with a handful of hands, over the same pit the party initially encountered them, but nobody was seriously hurt. Further in, deeper than the party went before, they found two skeletons lobbing undead crawling hands across a pit. The party took a few hits, but destroyed both skeletons before they could exhaust their hands ammo. Several of the hands were destroyed by Janda-Shan’s scorching burst while still in their original carrying case.

Down, down, down, they found yet more undead. Several doglike creatures, fast but not sturdy, burrowed through the accumulated filth to gnaw on them. There were also two zombies, heavily armed and armored. Whooat was seriously hurt, and Lucan not only got hurt but had awful luck landing his shots. The tide turned when Whooat’s powers started to protect and boost the party. Janda-Shan activated his Staff of Light and proceeded to cook the opposition a little at a time for the remainder of the battle. Lucan finally got in several good hits. Whooat stopped bleeding.

Startling to the PCs, when the zombies fell to normal blows, they reanimated shortly after! Startling to the zombies, they were still being char-broiled by holy radiation from Janda-Shan’s staff, so they immediately crumbled to ash, never to rise again.

Exploring a bit more, the party found a gaping pit, apparently the passage to the Underdark sealed off by ancient ritual. A goodly amount of unconsumed Residuum was collected. They also found the bodies of the two heroes who’d requested their equipment be retrieved one day: a human wearing Dwarven Chain mail emblazened with images holy to Pelor, and an eld wearing a fig leaf and carrying a Flaming Long Bow. Whooat claimed the armor, and Lucan the bow.

The party has achieved its objective. Now they face the challenge of either enduring a month underground, or finding an alternate exit from the uncharted hell.

Three closed doors stand nearby. The DM does not know what’s behind them, so the session ended.

Delving for Deaders

The party carefully recovered the vile dagger, and questioned their prisoner. He said Madelf came from the East, promising to restore the glory of Elfdom. He also said the entire band had been wiped out. It seems the party has vanquished another formidable foe.

Back in Villageton, Batson had been chatting up a bard who’s spread greatly exaggerated tales of the party’s first adventure dealing with the Crowd of Insect Sex Appeal. The bard means no harm, though he put Guild mage Leppedee Glibbleflang on the trail to the cave, which made the party uncomfortable. A quick trip to the cave made it clear that the site was just a plain old cave now, and that Glibblefang had checked it out recently too.

Returning to Kingdom’s End, the party turned in at the Laughing Little Person while Batson returned the wagon and horses to Fussbottom’s household, promising to collect the remainder of the party’s pay. The next morning, the party came to Batson’s house but found him agitated. He suggested they leave, but something was clearly amiss. Whooat, worried, yanked open a closet to reveal a bit too much of Mother Euphasia. The newly minted couple asked for privacy. Lucan slinked out to do some shopping. Janda-Shan literally flew away, attracting a bit of a crowd. Poor Whooat sat on the porch chanting “la-la-la-la” to to drown out the sounds of Batson and Euphasia playing checkers or whatever it is old people do when dating, attracting yet more of a crowd. A guard came to investigate, stomping into the house, and promptly stomping out alternating facial colors.

Soon enough, Batson came out to invite the party in. He did not appreciate the crowd.

Euphasia had been briefed on the Vault of Chlamidior, and was set to help. She could perform a ritual to answer one question, so long as the answer was knowable through sage-craft. As she prepared, Batson confirmed that the dagger found stuck in Madelf came from the vault. He relayed more of the story of the Vault and the Clappers, and Janda-Shan explained what he knew through his own historical training. The Clappers, a mostly human group with some elf and dwarfish members and goblinoid mercenary help. had dominated much of the continent, largely through their store of artifacts. It took a huge alliance to unseat them. The greatest mages of the time finally sealed off the Vault, not only physically, but separating it from this and all other planes. Thus the Vault is no longer “at” anywhere, it is its own location.

After much debate, the party asked, through Euphasia, “How do we access the Vault of Chlamidior?”

Their answer: “There are five keys and five locks. Each key is marked with the inverse of the Mark of Chlamidior. The locks are lost.”

The party saw no immediate use in this information, but Batson reacted by fainting. He recognized that he himself bore such a mark; “I think I’m one of the keys”. He had long felt an affinity for history and arcane trivia, but could not explain why. Perhaps this is part of the answer.

Euphasia had sensed some roiling of the usual undercurrents of darkness, and now sees why. Weeks ago she sent Whooat out into the world to shed her naivete. It seems a greater mission is afoot. She suggests the party go under the temple of the Order of the Judgmental Gaze, Whooat’s home, to recover relics held by heroes of long ago. The temple had been built to cap an opening to the Underdark, with Elfish help. The way can be opened only sporadically. She will open it two days hence at dawn and dusk, but if the party goes down and cannot return within that span, they will not have a way out for a month.

The party accepted the opportunity, and laid in supplies for a month-long underground stay. They hoped to pop in and out of the relic-hole in just a few hours, but the supplies would give them a safety net. Soon enough, down they went, after a squad of clerics-in-training and misfavored orphans carried the supplies down. Euphasia closed the door behind the party, promising to open it again at dusk.

The party found a straightforward path. They came across a wide pit with a twisting narrow passage over it, infested with undead severed hands. The party was victorious, but the swarms of hands had left grievous injuries on Lucan and Janda-Shan. Whooat was, uncharacteristically, only moderately wounded.

Further down, they found a few more hands scuttling about on a clearly unstable floor. The hands were dispatched quickly, but the floor was tricky. Janda-Shan had little to fear since his elemental nature granted him brief bursts of flight, but Lucan would soon find himself dangling like a yo-yo crossed with a pinata.

Whooat used her great strength to act as anchor on one end of a rope, while fleet-footed Lucan tried to find a safe path. He fell through, fortunately catching himself rather than falling the twenty feet. Less fortunately, he revealed the level below to be stocked with skeletons, most of which had bows and arrows. The party thus alternated between trading shots with the skeletons and probing the floor. One skeleton, a barby sort swinging a scimitar, charged up and tried to make a hash of Lucan, handily testing some floor as he went. The skeleton fell through, charged up again, and was eventually dispatched by Janda-Shan. Another particularly nasty foe was the flaming skeleton lobbing fireballs from below. Lucan was actually set ablaze and lost consciousness; Whooat was able to revive him quickly though.

Finally the foes were vanquished and the each party member made a safe way down; in Lucan’s case “safe” being only a minor fall on his face. The fact that the tiles of the unstable floor triggered a trivia mini-game with fabulous prizes provided small comfort: they were all tired and hurt. It seemed unlikely they could face another significant group of foes without a night’s rest, but it being only about 8am they were none too sleepy. It began to seem like a relatively good idea, bizarrely, to set up for a long stay in the long-abandoned, dead-infested, unexplored passageway to the Underdark.

Tales of Giants and Bunny Birds

Heading South, the party caught up with the spooked horse. The exhausted animal was about to be dinner for a Hill Giant. Fortunately Lucan recognized the giant as Sorbo, the slow-witted but sociable fellow whose foot they’d freed from a spearhead. Poor Sorbo has had a rough time; he’d “started thinking, then I got a headache, then I started thinking, ‘people are people too’.”. Sorbo can no longer stomach eating intelligent beings; he’s now a “vegetarian”, eating only animals. The party did not elect to correct his terminology. Instead, they fed him (no mean feat) and convinced him to come to Lentry, where he might be able to help the town in exchange for steady food.

Southward again, they detoured to check the evil tree from which they’d freed Batson weeks ago. The tree was inactive, but growing, but not for long: they asked Sorbo to destroy the tree. Soon enough there was naught left but evil kindling and a few choice bits salvageable as ritual components.

Reaching Lentry, the outlying farmers were terrified of Sorbo, despite his efforts to hide behind himself. The guards were worried as well, until the party explained that Sorbo came willing to be a weapon. Thus Sorbo found a new lifestyle, and the party earned Level 3.

The party delivered their shipment to Ambassador Klech at the harbo, and whiled away two days while Batson discussed tactics with the anti-pirate task force. Sorbo would not be joining that effort, as he’s afraid of water deeper than his head (which he was not aware existed) and had no great appetite for rat pie anyway. After Batson ran one last errand in town, he and the party headed back nort to Kingdom’s End to return Fussbottom’s wagons and horses.

Near Villageton, while packing up camp, Lucan received a message delivered aloud by a rare breed of fluffy pink bird with bunny ears:

"I speak to you representing the true heirs to elfin dignity and grace.  You suck."

The farmers of Villageton mentioned that Leppedee Glibbleflang (Lunchbox Gargleblaster? Landspeed Girlylaugh? Leftfoot Grunkalunka?) had been around, asking about them and the incident with the fouled water. An elf was watching from the trees; spotted and caught he admitted he was working with Madelf, the self-styled noble elf who had sent the attack after the party left Kingdom’s End. He tried to convince Lucan that the humans and their “pets” like Genasi were defilers of nature, but Lucan was far more offended by carousing with undead and constructs. They executed the elf by hanging, “accidentally” tearing his head clean off. The farmers who’d gathered were put off by the cold-blooded execution, but were put at ease by Lucan’s explanation that the elf had been associated with the people who’d attacked the village by poisoning the water, which might even be true. Whooat would later be troubled by her role in the execution too, after taking the time to contemplate it.

The party sent Batson into Villageton with the wagons to please look into the stories being told about them, then followed the ex-elf’s directions to Mad-Elf’s camp. The party was stealthy but couldn’t cleanly take out Madelf’s first sentry, so by the time they reached the camp proper they were expected. The party found itself outnumbered, but by good use of cover, area effects, and the different weaknesses of different puppets, they were victorious. Madelf, after various blasts of fire, righteousness, and plain old steel arrowheads, was slain by Janda-Shan’s mystical cloud of daggers.

They found a healthy stash of gold in the camp, and Lucan took the magical amulet of protection that had made Madelf so hard to kill, with some protest from Whooat, who could usually stand to be harder to kill. They also found a what they immediately suspected to be another artifact from the Vault of Chlamidior: a sickly barbed and curved dagger, stick out from between Madelf’s shoulder blades, the meat around it black and infected.

They were deciding what to do with their one elf prisoner, and the dagger, when the universe got sleepy and had to drive home.

Holy Flaming Latrines, Batson!
Sometimes Bad Plans Work Too

Shortly after the costume party, the party met with Duke Wayne to discuss the attack. Duke Wayne, along with a Guild Rent-A-Wizard named Oliver, had studied the meat puppet who tried to take Dukelette Pricilla. The puppet bore a tattoo of the Vault of Chlamidior, prompting the party to spill the beans regarding their Dude-related exploits. Both Oliver and Duke Wayne assured them in the future, any staggeringly powerful magical hoodoo should be brought to their exclusive attention.

The party met Sage Batson with two wagons to drive to Lentry. J’ayne was with him, but teleported away without a word when the party made the rendezvous, not evening bothering to stop the wagon.

Southward, the residents of Villageton bade them a hearty greeting and farewell (small town).

That night, the party set up camp a ways off the road, beside an ancestral poop pit. During Lucan’s watch, a small force tried to sneak up on them but Lucan detected them and woke the others. The attackers were an elf archer and, even more worrying, two sackboys. The elf only fired one shot then tried to run away while the sackboys amoked, but Lucan shot him dead. One sackboy fell to conventional means, but Whooat shoved the other into the poop pit. It climbed out, but was kicked back in and died in the fall. Making doubly (trebly?) sure, Janda-Shan tapped into the wind elemental powers of his Genesi heritage and flew into the air, then chucked a Flaming Burst into the pit. Generations of trapped methane gas exploded in a tremendous shower of, let’s say, dirt. A fireball mushroomed high into the air. When the flames and dirt settled, the small latrine had enlarged into a twenty foot deep, slick-sided pit (because that was the only “pit” tile the DM brought).

Batson pointed out the attack was an obvious feint to draw them out. Lucan carefully tracked the attackers back and found the ambush force. The party elected to continue camping, but set up dummies around the campfire and slept hidden.

Another attack came—this time a large force of three elf archers, five sackboys, and one of the powerful meat puppets. The enemies focused on the horses at first, prompting Janda-Shan to break cover. Batson pointed out that fleeing would be wise; Lucan pointed out somebody who might be fun to shoot and did so. The fight was long and hard, with several points of near-certain doom. Good use of cover and limiting the enemies’ movement allowed the party to deal with the enemy a little at a time. Janda-Shan brought out a flaming sphere to chase the highly flamable sackboys around. Whooat’s healing talents came into heavy play, and she buffed the party’s armor early in the fight. They also made full use of the slick-sided pit, dropping the feared meat puppet into it before it could even damage anybody. Whooat was nearly pushed in as well, but caught herself on the edge and vaulted wire-fighting style.

The elfs among the attackers seemed to think they were the good guys and tried to convince Lucan of as much, but he was having none of it.

Finally the party was victorious, taking out a force that had clearly been calculated to overwhelm them. Despite several close calls, the only concrete cost was the loss of a horse; two horses had fled, but Batson found one in his own none-too-dignified retreat. The rest of the night passed peacefully.

It remains unclear who is making using of the puppet constructs, but surely their capabilities have been limited after this crushing defeat.

It's Rude to Crash a Party

The party idled away several days. Janda-Shan kept in touch with Sage Batson, who hasn’t made much progress lately due to distractions working with Fussbottom. Whooat continued to check on her order, whose reverend Mother remains in mysteeerious seclusion. Lucan elfed about.

Finally, the day of the Duke’s autumn costume party arrived. The guards found Lucan attempting to smuggle in his daggers, but fortunately the guard recognized the group and was content to just hold on to the blades and let the party into the, er, party.

J’ayne was there (dressed as a human; Fussbottom vetoed her original idea of “something dignified”) to help them network, but they did fine without her hovering. They met Kingdom’s End’s guard captain Malloran, a half-orc full of gusto but weak on tactics, who suggested the party might help the guardsmen out sometime. A representative of the Mages’ Guild, Leppedee Glibbleflang (sp?), whose semi-illusory costumes changed throughout the night, discussed the potential of a Guild outlet in the city; he was unimpressed with the magical goings on in the area but showed great interest in the story of the Crown as told by Janda-Shan. Most reassuringly, Mother Euphausia was there, dressed as a sultry barmaid (minus the youth) and pretending to be drunk so as to chaperon the young ladies in attendance.

The crowd bussled about Ambassador Klech of Prosciutto, an island nation far to the south, famous for its sailors’ prowess and its mens’ tradition of never uncovering their faces in public. The ambassador is in Kingdom’s End to help coordinate a strike against piracy in the south sea, and he’s in attendance tonight wearing a large complex sea dragon costume.

The actual costume contest was a crown-pleaser. Whooat made it to the semi-finals, but Lucan and Janda-Shan made it to the finals, competing against Ambassador Klech. Janda-Shan was an early favorite, complementing his costume and native appearance with appropriate illusions and even flying over the crowd’s heads, but his showmanship ran out of gusto. Lucan won the event, partly with graceful interpretive dancing, partly by showing off his marksmanship with borrowed cutlery (causing the guards some consternation). He was awarded a hefty gem (later hocked) and a trophy in the shape of a shaved ape holding a gleaming blade.

Some time later, the party winding down, there was a commotion at the residence. A group of sack-cloth constructs had crashed in and split into two groups, one going after the Duke, the other after his daughter in the opposite wing of the house. The guards inside had been killed or knocked out, and Captain Malloran was slowed down by his choice of costume (having lost a bet, he was dressed as a prisoner, complete with shackles) so it fell to the party to intervene.

Initially they focused on the duke as directed by Malloran, but the Duke was obsessed with his daughter’s safety, jeopardizing his own, so Lucan split off to help her. He found not only more sackboys, but the Ambassador Klech leading the charge in his sea dragon costume (and oddly spitting glue and rampaging with more strength than a diplomat should have claim to). Slowly they whittled down the sackboys, with Whooat taking the worst of the counterattacks as she pulled the Duke back his own potentially deadly wounds.

The duke was secured, and Lucan had slowed down Klech (with belated help from Malloran keeping them from swarming him), but not enough. Klech smashed into the Dukelette’s room, then smashed through a window out into the garden, dragging the girl with him. Lucan and Janda-Shan pursued, but Whooat collapsed in the hall due to bleeding, very near death herself. Janda-Shan spotted Mother Euphasia helping the crowd and called her into the residence, but Whooat’s time was tight.

Lucan was promptly glued to the wall of the house by the ambassador’s inappropriate exporationations, where he would remain until it didn’t matter. Janda-Shan put the ambassador to sleep briefly, and the Dukelette Priscilla as well, long enough for Duke Wayne to grab her and take her to safety. Euphausia revived Whooat in the nick of time, then saw to the guards who had been kabonked earlier. Whooat was still greviously injured and had to staunch her own bleeding, the disappointment of Euphausia, who preaches a more self-sacrificing and less useful approach. Whooat joined the others in the garden.

Little by little, the party broke down the ambassador and his costume—Lucan throwing scores of spoons, Janda-Shan throwing fire and clouds of blades, Whooat throwing herself. It became clear that they were fighting an impostor, a rotten flesh costruct, not the real ambassador. Finally the thing fell, having nearly escaped the estate, and having knocked Whooat to her customary place as death’s door. The party gathered ‘round her, and Lucan poured a healing potion down her throat. She gagged and choked on it, but that was alright, because it’s a healing potion. She awake and helped survey the mess.

The constructs had gotten into the party with cleverly forged invitations, each slightly enchanted to show a convincing endorsement, different for whoever read it. The ambassador and his guards had been knocked out and shoved into bushes. Most of the Duke’s guards had been knocked out as well—two inside the house were killed though.

The Duke rewarded the party by pronouncing them Friends of the City, the benefits of which are ambiguous except that their customary inn (the Laughing Little Person) now houses them for free, benefiting from their reputations. He also gave them a healing potion he had been keeping for his own use. Finally, young Dukelette Priscilla presented them with her “favorite blanky”, which turned out to be a powerful Cloak of Distortion.

The next morning they checked in with Sage Batson. He wants to go south to Lentry to get something to aid in divining the leftover gem from the Crown of Dude. Fussbottom has been having business troubles lately and his hired muscle balked after last night’s attack, so he needs somebody to escort a shipment of weapons to Lentry to help with the pirate counterattack. The party elects to kill two birds with one stone (presumably thrown by Lucan after he runs out of spoons) and escort Batson south along with the shipment.

At this point the DM grew weary of typing when he should be at work, realized others are tired of reading, and vowed to keep it brief next time.

Game Called on Account of Booze

Time passed.

The Party Gets Ready for the Party

Flush with success after destroying the Crown, the party returned to Kingdom’s End. Sage Batson shared his recent research into the origins of the Crown. It seems the mark on it indicates it was from, or at least inspired by artifacts in, the Vault of Chlamidior. An ancient cult (the Clappers) used a collection of artifacts focused on controlling things to nearly take over the world and even influence other planes. The Vault was sealed generations ago, the entrance lost even to the wisest of Sages.

Whooat checked in with her temple, only to find things vaguely awry. Reverend Mother Euphausia is in seclusion, and the other sisters have a sense of bad fortunes. Janda-Shan, a bit tipsy, skulked about the temple but found nothing other than the charity of the sisters and the use of their john.

The party decided to accept Fussbottom’s offer to get them into the Duke’s upcoming costume party, though they refused the cheap and ambiguous offer of “exclusive employment”. J’ayne reluctantly took them all shopping for costumes. Janda-Shan enhanced his already impressive appearance in celebration of the Fey personification of winter. Lucan claimed a connection to the Feywild that offended J’ayne more than usual, dressing up as Oberon, king of the Faeries. Whooat took a more modest tact and put together a glimmering dragonfly costume.

J’ayne mentions it will be difficult to talk the guards into letting them wear armor at the party, and obvious weapons will be forbidden (though she indicates she’s planning to carry her own knives hidden), then teleports away in a huffy puff.

Riding back to the inn in the wagon, Lucan spots an amateurish ambush by muggers. The thugs are clearly no match for the party. Janda-Shan summoned his fiery warrior to lead the way, and lit up his staff for added effect. The message is clear: this is a group with which one ought not screw. The townfolk and guards are rather alarmed too, though some who recognize the party cheer. Those muggers who don’t faint outright flee screaming like little girls. The actual little girls in the area thought it was neat.

The party plans to rest for the 10 days remaining ‘til the party, checking in with Whooat’s temple, and Sage Batson, occasionally.

Destroying the Crown of the Dude

Following advice from Sage Batson, the party tracked down a small pack of scorpions. They claimed the sweet juiced, though Lucan was badly injured in the scuffle. After recuperating for the day, the party prepared to summon the demon representing the power of the Crown:

“Meka Leka High Meka High Meka Hiney Ho” [jazz hands]

Cleverly, the party had arranged themselves around the crown so that they couldn’t help each other and the demon would have his choice of targets. When the demon appeared, nine feet tall and swinging the ass end of a horse as a club, he laid a mighty smack upon both Whooat and Lucan. Janda-Shan supervised from atop a tall tree and maneuvered his new summon, a flaming warrior, to restrict the demon’s movement and bring pain. Lucan peppered the demon with arrows with Whooat provided healing and more tactical maneuvering, not to mention setting the bastard on fire.

Eventually the dark force was slain. The crown melted into a puddle of gold and goodies. The party’s first major Quest has been completed.


The party found a small crew working alchemical water purifacation. One of the workers misjudged God’s love for him and fell to his horrible painful death. Another was peppered with arrows and justice and slain. The third was captured, later to be turned over to the dwarfs. In addition to the alchemical booty, the party found another map, bloodied but together with the previous fragment, lead clearly to the mine squatters’ base of operations.

After a quick but tense fight on an old underground bridge (the enemy landed exactly one blow, but it was a doozy), the party barged into the main headquarters. They interrupted a celebration, with several workers watching their mage leader prance about imitating a dwarf. The party was invited to partake, and used the confusion to great advantage. The mage never even got to fire off a spell; he was pinned to the wall by arrow fire. His handful of minions quickly fell—most in bunches. The party recovered papers describing the operation, and returned to the dwarfs above.

The dwarfs were very pleased, two in particular. Ronk, one of the oldest dwarfs, who’s been in a slump since his prosthetic beard was taken by the squatters, had his dignity and face fuzz restored and set about reminding the whipper snappers to respect their elders. The widower Egald Rockmallow had his wedding ring returned, and was so grateful and admiring that he made the party honorary cousins of the Rockmallow Clan and invited them to the clanhold for a visit.

After a night’s rest, the party reflected on recent events and their own experiences, and realized they’ve learned a great deal. Levels upped all round.

They returned to Kingdom’s End and were rewarded by Fussbottom with a magic staff suitable for cooking undead. Fussbottom notes that some of the agents of the mine squatters might be ripping him off too, and he might have use of the party’s help in squelching them. He’s also heard that the Freighters’ Guild is getting ready to push back against some pirates to the south, and he could sign them on to that effort. Then again, they might all benefit by introducing the party to high society at the Duke’s upcoming Autumn Costume Ball.

They also consulted Sage Batson about the crown; he told them how to destroy it (mix the putty with bug juice, say a little ditty, and slay the representative demon) but warned that his research suggests the crown should not have been in this world to begin with. The crown is marked by its maker (a trident in a circle) but the methods of its constructions were lost generations ago and all known artifacts were sealed away in inaccessible vaults. Batson is very worried about what this portends, but can’t put his finger on it yet.

Meatballs in Dwarf Sauce

The party headed north, towards Dwarfish territory. Along the way they found the ancient altar described by Sage Batson, and fought the designated champion (a giant floating mass of muscle and grrr) to win a tool to help destroy the insect-controlling crown. It’s not yet clear how the tool - glowing green Evil Putty - should be used, so the party stowed it away and continued.

Despite being waylaid by bandits claiming to be toll collectors for the especially fictional Dwarf King, the party arrived at Ardale’s mine safe and sound.

The party won the miners’ affection by bringing in the two bandits, and by faring well in a wrestling tournament. Soon they had enough information and semi-coherent direction to delve into the mine. So far the threat is mundane; mine squatters have snuck in and put on a show of mysterious hoodoo to scare the dwarfs out.

The session ended with the party approaching a group of men working over alchemical equipment.


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