Meanwhile, in Grognardia...



He will break you.  But will he learn from the experience?



A link to yesterday's post by James M was emailed to me yesterday evening.  I read it in the middle of the night, and I've been wrestling with it ever since.  On the one hand, my inner Ayn Rand is offended - hamstringing those who are naturally gifted, giving undeserved bonuses to second-handers, etc.  On it's surface, it Harrison Bergeron-izes D&D, strapping lead weights to the legs of the physically gifted and such. 

On the flip side, within the confines of James' example, it seems to make sense.  If you accept the precepts of D&D, that melee combat is a strength based affair - someone with massive strength wouldn't need to learn as much about fighting, they get a bonus to hit by virture of their muscles, and crush skulls when they connect.  You can even extend that example to Rogues and their Dexterity stat - for them, everything is all about their Dexterity, and a slower Thief would have to pick things up quickly in order to succeed.  Higher Dex = better AC, harder to hit, etc.

I think things break down, though, once you get to the Cleric and Wizard.  Until you get to 4e, while your Intelligence and Wisdom would have an impact on your progression through those classes, there wasn't as much of a direct correllation between the Stat and their abilities.  A low Intelligence could keep a wizard from casting high level spells, and a low Wisdom could cause Clerical spells to fail, but how do you draw a direct line from that to increased/decreased experience, like you do with a fighter?  In 4e I can see it, since everything is stat based, no matter what class you have, but in older versions of the game, you just didn't see that.

And yet...

And yet, I can't shake the feeling that there's something to this.  The game can really punish you for poor stats, as poor Torvalds found out, and this is something good to level out that sort of thing.  But it seems to run counter to the idea of Old School Lethality.

Needless to say, I am conflicted.

A Series of Unfortunate Events

As some readers may know, I run a 2e campaign, in which a friend Kaye playes an unfortunate soul by the name of Torvalds.  Both myself and Ark at Rather Gamey have blogged about him several times.  If this is all new to you Take a minute to catch up if you'd like.

Don't worry, I'll wait.

So after a series of (mis)adventures, Torvalds finally made 5th level, and decided to learn the spell Summon Familiar.  In typical Torvalds fashion, he did not read the fine print on the spell.  In 2nd edition, there's a random chart for everything, including the type of familiar you get when you get the spell.  So rather than getting something cool/useful such as a bat, black cat, raven, weasel etc.  Torvalds get's a Toad.  As he contemplates killing the Toad and trying again, only then does he decide to read the fine print - the death of the Toad would be traumatic to it's owner, to say the least - he would have to make a system shock roll - fail and die, pass and lose 1 point of Constitution.  Tempting as it was to roll the dice, he decided to stick with the Toad.

You would think that this would be the end of the story, but no.  It got worse.

After vanquishing an Elder Mummy, a Lesser Mummy and their summoned Earth Elemental, the party was looting their stuff when they came across the bane of all 2e DMs - The Deck of Many Things.  I contemplated fudging the roll, but I have been a stickler for the dice roll what they roll, so I stuck with it.  The fighter drew his card, and got 2 points added to his Strength.  The Dwarven Priest drew and was granted an 18 Charisma and a small keep.  The Dwarven Thief lost his soul - oops!.  The Half-Yeti Barbarian Reaver (don't ask), was given 10,000 XP or 2 more draws from the deck, took the 2 draws, gaining the service of a 4th level fighter, and an 18 Charisma.  Oh, and the keep, too.

All eyes turn to Kaye, who asked to go last.  His first draw caused him to lose his soul.  His and the thief's souls were banished to one of the Seven Hells, where they were leapt upon by Dev- er, excuse me Baatezu, and tormented.  Their nights would be tormented by dreams of their souls in unending torment until they undertook a quest to regain them. 

You would think that this would be the end of the story, but no.  It got worse.

The Dark Powers offered each of them another draw from the deck, in exchange for 10,000 XP.  Kaye jumped on it, and made the deal.  Unfortunately, the 10,000 XP dropped his level, which meant he no longer had access to the Find Familiar Spell.  Which meant his Toad died.  Which meant he was in extreme pain, and likely to die.  He did pass the System Shock roll, but lost a point in Constitution for his trouble.

You would think that this would be the end of the story, but no.  It got worse.

His next draw caused him to be stripped of all his wealth and real property, including his spellbook.  He still had all the spells he had memorized that morning, but once they were burned, he would have no access to any spells until he got a new spellbook.

At this point we were all laughing helplessly, as poor Kaye stared glumly at his character sheet.  "You're pretty much a crappy fighter now!", the Fighter cheerily piped up.

You would think that this would be the end of the story, but no.  It got worse.

Torvalds pled with the Dark Powers for one more draw, offering up still more XP (not enough to drop him another level, though), and in the spirit of the magnifying glass looming above the ant, his cries were heard, his wish granted.  His first draw got him 2 more draws or 10,000 XP, but like any good compulsive gambler, Torvalds doubled down, drawing twice more. 

The table was silent as we all waited to see what new horrible things the Deck would do to Torvalds.  Much to our disappointment, there was a brief glimmer of hope with his first draw, which granted him 50,000 XP and a Miscellaneous Magical Item.  "Things are looking up!" he cried.  But then, proving that the Dark Powers have a sense of humor, his next draw was the Donjon - You Are Imprisoned.

Poor Torvalds never got to find out what Magical Item he got, as it was stripped from him, along with the rags he had been offered after previously losing everything.  He currently languishes somewhere, contemplating his folly, wondering where it all went so wrong.

"Maybe you're imprisoned in the same place as your soul?" the Fighter offered helpfully.

You would think that this would be the end of the story, and you would be right - that's as bad as it gets.

Next session, Kaye will be debuting his new character.  No doubt it will be more fun for him to play, but I can honestly say that I, and the rest of the party, will miss poor Torvalds.  Let's all take a moment of silence to reflect on the passing of the Best Character Kaye Has Ever Played.

I was reminded of the strip below, so I leave you with it.

Dreams and Portents

The party drifts off to sleep, dreaming of elves, and revenge...

 

Chartreuse's Dream:

 

You drift off to sleep, dreaming of elves and revenge...

You're at play in the trees of your youth, spinning and skipping from one branch to the next, always above the ground, never touching the earth.

"Skyskipper..." an unearthly voice floats through the air, whisping around your legs and arms before floating into your ears.  You see your childhood friends, down on the ground, waving at you and inviting you to join them.  They don't see the Yuan-Ti rising up behind them, their curved, wicked blades flashing in the sunlight as they cut down your friends.  A scream rises from the forest beneath you and the High Elves charge towards the Yuan-Ti, and the battle is engaged.

"Skyskipper... I am finished..." the wind whispers to you, and the trees you cling to grow higher and higher, and you see that the land around where the elves and Yuan-Ti battle is crumbling, turning gray and floating away into a void, like ash from the pipe.  The land grows smaller and smaller, until there is not even room enough to battle, and the combatants themselves turn to ash and are gone.

"The High Elves have lost their way, lost their way in their hatred of the snakes, they no longer hear my pleas, but I am dying.  I am no longer able to... to..."  the voice fades away, and you are left, sitting on the branch of a tree, all alone in the perfect darkness of the void.  You cry out, but the darkness swallows the noise. 

You wake up with a start, your throat tight, your heart hammering in your chest.  Looking about wildly, you see your companions sleeping around you, and all is as you left it when you fell asleep.  It was just a dream, you tell yourself.  Just a dream.

 

Wasn't it?

 

 

Luke Daggerbeard's Dream:

 

You drift off to sleep, dreaming of elves and revenge...

 

You're back at the fields of play from your youth, running and jumping with the other children.   Suddenly, clouds roll in overhead, and a thick, goopey rain begins to fall.  Thunder rumbles and lightning splits the skies, giving the world a strobe-like intensity.  The other children run away, leaving you all alone on the field. 

 

Suddenly though, you realize that you are not alone after all.  Peering through the rain, you see that a lone dwarf stands at the edge of the field.  He is stooped and leaning heavily on a giant warhammer.  He beckons with one hand, and despite the fear you feel in the pit of your stomach, your feet stumble forward, bringing you into his presence.  Despite being bent almost double, he looms over you, and you gaze deep into his eyes, feeling as though you could drown in their depths. 

 

His eyebrows gather in the center of his forehead, and he glowers at you for a moment before he rumbles, "Time to grow up, boy.  The time fer dancin' and playin' is done.  There be darkness comin', and although you ain't one of my chosen, yer still family.  Yer pretty handy with that bastard sword, eh?  Not my first choice fer a weapon, fer sure, but it'll do in a pinch, won't it, eh?"

 

He chuckles, and the sky rumbles in answer.

 

"Now listen here, and listen good.  Yer a dwarf, boy, and the time is come fer ye ta act like one.  Ye've never been the prayin' type, so I've got no boons ta offer ye, beyond advice, and a warnin'.  Time's comin' when there'll be darkness a'plenty, and only my clerics can carry the light.  You make sure he gets where he needs to go, and ye'll always have a place at my hearth."

 

The dwarf looms larger, until he seems to swallow the entire world, "Me advice?  Quit playin' around with tha High elves - they've let their head wrap clear around up their arses, sure enough.  They're already in darkness, and can't see what's comin'.  Not anymore."

 

You've lost sight of the dwarf, and you find yourself in darkness. You cry out for your sister, for anyone, but there is no response.

 

You awake with a start, panting as though you've just run a marathon.  It was just a dream, you tell yourself.  Just a dream.

 

Wasn't it?

 

Banebeard's Dream:

 

You drift off to sleep, dreaming of elves and revenge...

 

In your dream, you're back in the temple, walking the halls, but no-one is around.  Your footsteps echo resoundingly, filling your ears and you begin to run, searching for someone, anyone.  Suddenly, you hear the banging of a hammer, coming from the forge.  With a cry of relief, you run back through the temple and burst through the doors of the forge.  There, you find an old dwarf leaning on a hammer near the forge, staring at you through a pair of busy eyebrows.  His hair is white and tied back in a braid, and the wrinkles on his face are like deep crevasses carved into the flesh of his soot-darkened face. 

"So, you be Banebeard."

You try to speak, but find yourself without a voice.  Your mouth moves, but nothing comes out so you gape, like a fish out of water.

"My Temple Guard.  Yer havin' a rough year, ain't ye?  Lost yer temple, lost yer beard, and now you're traipsin' around in the woods helpin' out the stinkin' elves!" 

Turning, he coughs up a slug of phlegm and hawks it into the forge, which flares up mightily.

"And what of my gem, eh?  I left that down in that temple so long they forgot about everything but it's ability to magick the beer, but it can do much more.  Ye've forgotten all about that, have ye?"

Stalking over, the old dwarf grabs your chin between thumb and index finger and pulls you down so he can stare you in the eyes.  "Dark times be comin' boy.  Dark times indeed, and I'll be needin' ye to carry the light into the darkness, so don't be fergettin' who it is that grants ye all them spells ye like tossin' around so much.  I don't mind, to be honest I like yeh, but don't be fergettin' from whence the beer be flowing."

Spinning you around, he gives you a clap on the back which sends you sprawling forward.  You trip and you're falling and falling and

You wake up with a start, breathing heavily.  You realize something is different, and your hands fly to your face to find a full flowing beard, miraculously restored overnight.  It was just a dream, you tell yourself.  But even as you tell yourself so, your fingers run through the fullness of your beard.  It couldn't have been a dream.

 

Could it?

 

Torvalds' Dream:

 

You drift off to sleep, dreaming of grapes and yeti...

You drift in a cloud of a million million colors, light as a feather, as comfortable as the most comfortable cushion.  Gazing languidly around you, you see that there are objects floating in the colors.  Looking closer, you see that each of these objects is actually a crystalline sphere.  Looking closer, you see that within each sphere spins small marbles, all revolving around a small dot of fire.  Suddenly, from one of the spheres, you see a tower of blue light flare, spinning upwards.  You see the blue light race towards a giant mirror, floating in the colors.  It strikes it and destroys it utterly, passing onwards, but its course has been adjusted, and it moves on in a slightly different direction.  Again it strikes another mirror, and is deflected again, and again and again, until finally it is headed directly towards a crystalline sphere.  This sphere is different, though.  While the others are bright and reflective, this sphere is dark and dull, with streaks of angry red and orange running across it, like abarely cooled magma field.  You try and look within, as you have the others, but find your sight blocked, and you are unable to see within.

The blue light strikes the sphere, and is absorbed.  There is a rumbling, and for a brief moment, an opening appears in the dul rock, and you can see within.  You push yourself down, down down, trying to peek through the hole, and you sense the hole beginning to close, and you know that only you can hold it open, though it may mean your life...

You awake suddenly, sweating profusely.  It was just a dream, you tell yourself... it was just a dream...

Wasn't it?

 

Of course not!  You are Torvalds, and surely this is a sign of your imminent ascension!

 

Things To Do

After last night's session, the party has a full plate indeed.  It all started when the dwarven cleric, in a drunken stupor, flew the ship north instead of south, inviting attack by a White Dragon.  They were able to slay the beast, but the cost was high - the life of Serendipity, the NPC sibling of Chartreuse was lost to the initial blast of the icy breath weapon.  Luckily, they were able to trade the corpse of the dragon to an elven mage, who put in a good word with the High Priestess of Solanfir, the Elven Goddess of Renewal, Rebirth, Spring, etc.  She cast a limited Resurrection spell, which brings the dead back for seven days.  There is a cave, however, where time flows strangely, slightly to the east of the elven city.  At the heart of this cave lies a pool which, should the resurrected submerge themselves within it, will make their resurrection permanent.

The party managed to stumble through a formal dinner with the King of the Elves without causing a major incident.  Not for lack of trying, though.  The dwarven priest, again intoxicated, picked a fight with some elven nobles, but was subjected to a Hold Person spell, and they shaved him.  He currently plots his revenge.

Oh and a Yuan-Ti was present at the dinner.  The party is convinced is either an illithid in disguise, or a spy.  Possibly both.

The dinner was productive, however - it turns out they're not quite done with the dungeon they abandoned last session - in addition to recovering the sacred gem of the Dwarven Beer God, there is an elven Star Seer who has gone missing in the same area.  They were also given a lead on the strange writings they recovered from the dwarven altar the illithids desecrated.  It turns out that they are written in the hidden language of the mind flayers, a language whose secrets are jealously guarded by the star-spawned creatures.  Only a few people in the entire world know even a handful of the symbols, and the papers the party found represent the largest example of their writing found to date.  The foremost expert on the language is a high mage by the name of Magrush, in the Human capitol of Sundallassar. 

There was also a fight with a pair of yeti, one of which was subdued, and is now being trained to read and write, while chained up in the hold of their flying ship.

Yep, it's one of those types of games.

Bees! Bees! For the Love of God BEEEEES!!!!

I love Grimtooth.  

If you haven't heard of Grimtooth, shame on you!  First published back in 1981, the Grimtooth's Traps series has been scaring PCs for over 30 years now.  You don't even need to use any of the traps - just setting a copy on the table in your stack of monstrous compendiums and DMs Guides is enough to keep most parties creeping through the dungeons one skill check at a time.

Or poking doors with sticks.

An illithid had just ripped a dwarven temple out of the side of a mountain, turning it into a massive stone golem.  The PCs stopped it, but not before it completed it's nefarious work, sending some blast of energy into the sky.  The dwarven temple guard had noticed that a gem, used to power the statue of Moradin that flowed with Holy Beer, had been taken before the attack, and sent the group into a hole in the side of the mountain, exposed after the debacle, reasoning that since the stone wasn't in the wreckage of the temple, something must have grabbed it and slid back down into the darkness in the confusion.

Once again feeling their oats, and accompanied by their NPC siblings, they sauntered down into the darkness.  The thief was doing his thiefy things, checking each door for traps, and disarming them, but then they came to the Dead End.  There were doors on either side.  Only the door on the left wasn't a door at all, as the thief found out when he failed his detect traps roll - someone had smeared a jelly of animal control on the wall in the shape of a door, glued a doorknob onto it, and summoned a swarm of bees, which had waited patiently for an adventuring party to stumble across them.  The bees swarmed, and several people were stung, causing them to take a -1 penalty to their Dexterity, as their fingers swelled up like sausages.

The party was, to say the least, traumatized, and was practically poking doors with sticks for the rest of the night.  They found potions, and checked to make sure there weren't bees in them.  They climbed a ladder, but not before making sure the rungs were not, in fact, bees.  Phantom bees lurked everywhere for the rest of the night, and likely haunted their dreams after they left.

Oh, and the other door?  That was made of a flimsy glass like substance which shattered when the fighter yanked the door open, spraying the party with acid.  There were deadfalls, tripwires and lots of other nasty traps all over the place, but nothing affected the party as viscerally as the bees did, for some reason.

And that was out of  Grimtooth's Traps LITE, described as, "kinder, gentler traps".

Heh heh.  I can't wait to break out the REALLY nasty stuff.

Dramatic Interlude: Torvalds and the Blue Grape

So I've started a 2e campaign, as detailed at Rather Gamey.  One of the things Ark used to do when I was a player in his 4e campaign was generate "color" scenes that took place between sessions.  As the GM, he had a good idea of who we thought each of our characters were, and used those scenes to make sure the rest of us understood what we were going on about.  Alot of the solid roleplaying that took place in that campaign crystalized around the depictions of our characters in those interludes.  So I've decided to take a page from his playbook, and I sent out a description of events to my victims... er, players, that takes place immediately following the events of the last game.  They had been tracking the source of the blue lights which a bunch of mind controlled people/zombies kept insisting were the last things they remembered before zoning out.  Instead of blue lights, they stumbled upon a mind flayer and his skeletal minions.  Hilarity and carnage ensued, culminating in Torvalds, the triple-amputee mage destroying a psionic skeleton by punching it with his one remaining limb.

Dramatis Personae:

Torvalds:  Needs no introduction.  Just click on the "Rather" link above.

Chartreuse: Dual Class Ranger/Hot elf chick.  Single minded, kind of violent.  Has vowed revenge for the destruction of her hometown, Honlee, by persons unknown (but she's pretty sure it was Illithids)

Banebeard: Dwarven Temple Guardian Priest: Strode out of the night, determined to use this party as the means to resolving the task his Temple Elders have assigned him - to discover the source of magical energies detected at the now-defunct town of Honlee.  Suspicious of any dwarf that does not use a giant axe or hammer.

Luke Daggerbeard: Of the Havershord Daggerbeards, natch.  Dwarven, definintely.  Fighter, technically.  A little flighty, not afraid to run from a fight.  Does not use a giant axe or hammer.

Towon Lee: International man of mystery/monk.  No-one is actually sure when he joined the party, but it seems as though he's been there all along, and he makes a delightful chai tee, so nobody's complaining.

So without further ado:

                 Shaking off the effects of the dead Illithid’s mind blast, the party struggled to its feet and began rooting through the corpse, looking for something, anything that would tie it to the tragedy at Honlee.  Sure enough, amongst the bloodsoaked scrolls and potions that lined the inside of the foul beast’s cloak, they found a piece of paper of a decidedly different type of parchment than the others.  Unrolling it, they gathered around. 
                Chartreuse gasped, “It’s… it’s a map!  Of this very area!  And look!  There is a circle around our village!  This fiend must have been responsible!”
                “Let’s not jump to conclusions,” Banebeard growled, “There’s one Mind Flayer here, with a couple o' skeletons.  Tough as them buggers be, how could just one of 'em have committed alla tha' carnage?”
                “Maybe there’s more than one of them?” Luke Daggerbeard chimed in nervously, looking over his shoulder and ready to bolt at the first sign of trouble.
                “Let’s hope so, ye milkdrinker!” Banebeard replied with a guffaw, slapping Luke on the back.  Luke didn’t appreciate the sentiment or the statement, but held his tongue.  Banebeard was pretty intense, and the last thing he wanted was for him to bring up the fact that Luke didn’t use an axe again.
                “Hey guys!  What’s going on?  I can’t see!  Let me see!”
                With a sigh, the party parted and allowed Torvalds, the triple amputee mage, to drag himself forward with his one remaining arm.
                “He’s getting pretty good at moving around with that one arm!” Luke whispered to Banebeard, who only frowned more deeply, his eyebrows gathering like a black, bushy stormcloud at the center of his face.
                Towon Lee politely looked away as Torvalds swung his legless torso around and sat up on his stumps to look at the parchment.  Disability made him uncomfortable – he couldn’t imagine life like that, depending as he did on the proper number of limbs to fight his battles.
                “Huh.  Is this a map?  It sure looks like one, doesn’t it guys?  Guys?  Hey there’s a dead Mind Flayer right here, have you guys checked it for stuff?  I bet it’s got lots of stuff!  Guys?  Well I’m going to look through it, guys!”
                Ignoring Torvalds as he flopped back to the earth to rifle through the Illithid’s pockets one more time, they returned their attention to the map.
                “Isn’t this the same language you saw on the bones of those skeletons, Banebeard?” Chartreuse inquired.
                “Lemme see that,” Banebeard snatched it and pulled it close to his face, squinting fearsomely.  “Aye, that be the same writing, by Moradin’s beard!” 
                 Sure enough, there was writing on the map, in the strange, flowing text that the party had seen inscribed on the bones of the skeletons they had vanquished.  
                “I wonder what it says?”, Chartreuse reached out with a finger and lightly traced the lines.
                Suddenly, a softly glowing blue dot appeared above the map, hovering about six inches from the page, and a hair’s breadth from Banebeard’s eye.  Dropping the map with a bellow, he grabbed his axe from his shoulder, shouting, “Foul magic!  To arms!  We be attacked!”
                Luke immediately raced for the treeline, his sword swinging wildly as he tried to look everywhere at once.  Towon Lee grasped Baenbeard’s wrist, however, and intoned, “Calm yourself, my friend.  There is no attack, merely a misplaced conjuration.  See?  A simple light spell attached to the parchment which even now drifts to the ground like petals blown from a dying flower.”
               Banebeard wasn’t sure what in the Nine Hells Towon Lee was talking about, but the way he said it was calming enough that he relaxed, and replaced the axe in its shoulder holster.
             “What is that supposed to mean?”   Bending, Chartreuse picked up the map and stared at the light, which hovered above the page enigmatically.
            “Uh, guys?  Is the dead mind flayer supposed to be floating?”
            Everyone had all but forgotten Torvalds, so when they turned, they were almost as surprised as he was to see the Mind Flayer rising from the ground.  It still appeared to be dead, its tentacles flaccid, the massive trauma from the battle still dispensing gushes of green blood.  It wasn’t quite floating either, but rather it appeared to be getting pulled up by its neck.  Its head hung down, and it looked for all the world as though it had been hung, and some invisible nooseman was pulling its corpse up from the earth.
            “W-what’s that glowing?”    Luke stammered from the treeline.
Shuffling around to his side of the corpse, they saw a blue glow pulsing just below the skin of the Illithid, right at the lifting point.  The body was now several feet off the ground, but the ascent was slowing.
           “What glowing?  What?  What’s going on?  Wait up, I’m coming over there!”
Torvalds began dragging himself towards the party, trying to simultaneously pull himself forward and look up to see what they were staring at, mouths agape.
           He was almost directly under the Mind Flayer when, with a sick rip, the dead Illithid’s neck split wide, and the corpse dropped with a shower of green blood, directly onto Torvalds.
Wailing plaintively, Torvalds attempted to push the corpse from his body and wipe the massive amounts of blood from his face, “Gah!  I’ve been attacked!  Acid!  Poison!  Zombie Mind Flayers!  Help!  I’VE ALREADY BURNED MY SPELL FOR THE DAY!!!!”
           Towon Lee couldn’t help it.  Years of practicing restraint and discipline could not contain the laughter that welled up within him, and he laughed, deeply and heartily.  It was a strange sound, not one heard very often, and the rest of the party looked at him oddly.
           Distracted as they were, no-one noticed the small, pulsing blue sphere’s light start to dim as it sank back to the earth.  Torvalds, meanwhile had finally extricated himself from the corpse and was staring, entranced by the artifact, licking his lips.
           “A BLUE grape!”, he thought  to himself.  “How DELIGHTFUL!  I MUST have it!”
           Looking surreptitiously at the party, who were still confused and distracted by Towon Lee’s first laugh since joining the party, he dragged himself over to it and held it up, admiring the way it glistened.  Surely this would be the most delicious grape he had ever tasted!
           That very same glistening, meanwhile, attracted the notice of the Chartreuse, who, taking in the situation for a half a second, suddenly realized exactly what Torvalds intended.
           “Torvalds NOOO!!!!!!!”
           Time slows down as she leaps towards him, arms outstretched.  Torvalds, mouth open wide and eyes alight in anticipation of the magnificent feast before him.  Towon Lee, now doubled over with gut shaking laughter.  Banebeard, one giant, bushy eyebrow slowly raising as he turns.  Luke Daggerbeard, moving backwards, startled and preparing to flee.
           The blue marble disappears into Torvalds’ meaty maw, and the jaw snaps shut with finality.  There is a crunch, and Torvalds’ eyes go from delight to alarm.  Blue light erupts from his mouth and engulfs the party.

           These are your heroes, and they are about to get into A LOT of trouble.


           Stay tuned for the further adventures of the Companions, as they race towards doom... er, ADVENTURE!