S2: Water You Doing Later?

Our crew found themselves on a temporary island life raft with a purple storm of lightning portals rages overhead. Mokon was excited to use his construction skills on whatever the seas were kind enough to give, while the others explored. The un-dainty Nom accidentally stumbles upon an aged hatch with a healthy “crunch”. Upon opening the unwieldy hatch, the crew (minus Mokon who was still up to his eyeballs in driftwood and seaweed) found it to be a doorway to a damp and deep tomb. Glug uses a shower of prestidigitated sparks to help the group see in living color, while Mokon detects an evil foot below. Alora, knowing her roots (and a little help from Bedroll, Bathhouse, & Beyond), began to work on a makeshift rope knowing that a 35-foot jump is not good on the knees.

Deciding to sleep off their lack of hit points before venturing forth, our fantastic five hunkered down on the recently found none-too-big island. Minutes after lights out, the group was awakened by some awkward heavy petting of underworldly 25-foot tentacles. Mokon’s makeshift fort took a just-for-show attempt by a rogue swipe. Unsure to attack, run, or pretend like tentacles don’t really matter. Fayette, believing that bigger isn’t better, lets a firebolt fly by one of the arms as a gesture of back-to-hell-off. As a new friend emerges from the seas, Fayette tries to make friends, while the sea creature makes lunch. Seeing the lack of effort needed the group begins to second guess their attack-anything-that-moves mentality and begins to back up… slowly. Sensing this uncertainty the DM decides to dismember a gigantic undead ogre to show the severity of the situation and speed things up. (Oh did I say that out loud?) After a full meal, the tentacles recede and the group decides to continue their slumber at which time Alora finishes her root-rope (with a quick quality assessment from Fay). Mokon and Glug make some ELF-ASS Daggers™, and Fayette and Nom find an elbow is a great place to start. 

Revived, the five make their way into the tomb some more stylishly and/or excessively than others, with that pesky first door opened by Mokon (Indiana Jones style). The skeletons pour forth and a battle commences in an epic avoid-the-spikey-pit-trap fashion. Nom, Glug, and Alora have a few differences of opinion on perfectly symmetrical green gems, how to open a sarcophagus the correct way, what to do about severed hands, and the who-what-when-where-how-and-why of prestidigitation. Fayette avoids a party confrontation while Mokon will do anything for a hot redhead and a bag-o-rat. Eventually, the group (plus one mummified hand) finds their way to an illusion-hidden sword of the sentient hand-killing variety of which Glug takes claim. Mokon and Glug decide to pick at a watery scab until the whole tomb is sleeping with the fishes, but not before attempting to climb out through the highly pressurized culvert to no avail. 

We now find our “heroes” in the same place they began with a new weapon in hand and a new day dawning.