D&D Session 41 (5/3/22): Making It Personal

 Text by Paul O'Connor, Dungeon Master

There is the stench of death in the air, and not just from the fragrant corpse pile the undead Axton calls a bed. A sense of DOOM clutches at the heart of the party.

And that's because of ... The Hellfire Orb! The ritual was a (real time) month in the coming, but it did not disappoint. Arthur was hurled aside like a broken doll, and Blah was staggered. Death saving rolls ahead! Boom goes the dynamite!

Quaffing a healing potion (and it's a good thing he did), Blah had a moment of inspired madness. "NO MAGIC!" he shouted at the undead king! "Fight me like a barbarian!"

Now, Axton should have known better. But you know what they say -- you can take the boy out of the barbarian, but you can't take the barbarian out of the boy. (They do say that, don't they?) Somehow, Blah's word wormed their way into Axton's worm-eaten heart (and it helped that I rolled a fumble when checking to see if Axton kept his cool). 

"No magic, hey? I'll show you no magic!" I mean why use a prepared spell that might banish your foe to another plane of existence when you can wade in and slash with a sharp piece of steel?

(You know, there's a reason that even when he forged the Rehged Barbarians into a single fighting force that Axton failed to build a kingdom. He stooooooo-pid).

Slice, hack, slash! Blah takes the hit ... but when raging, he's all about taking the hit. Does it say something on his sheet about half-damage from being banished to another plane of existence? No, it does not. Good thing Axton didn't do that!

Slice, hack, slash ... and down goes Axton, exploding into ribbons of bandages and mummy dust like spring snakes released from a can!

(Gotta love D&D -- "Personal challenge improbably unhinges campaign end boss and prevents total party kill." Yep, had that on my DM bingo card).

A healing potion down Arthur's throat and he was right as rain. And looking around the burial chamber, our heroes find more gold and platinum pieces than they can carry. Plus -- not to be forgotten -- Axton's legendary axe, the key to rallying the barbarian tribes against the giants! (Theoretically).

Problem is, our heroes are on an island, surrounded by raging, frozen waters -- how do you transport all those hundreds of pounds of coin across the water?

I'll tell you how NOT to do it -- Iago's way. Maddened with greed, his pockets stuff with WAY too much loot, the unloved NPC Bard waded into the water, convinced he could make the other side. Only being swallowed by a Frost Salamander saved him from drowning before he could freeze to death.

Spending exactly zero seconds mourning Iago, Khostov froze our gang a temporary causeway through clever application of his Frost Fingers spell, and with only a few white knuckle moments, the gang got off the island, their treasure intact. They spent the night in Khostov's tiny hut.

An under-appreciated feature of that tiny hut spell is the hut is transparent from the inside ... so the party easily saw the Ice Trolls laying in wait for them, and dispatched them with contemptuous ease come the morning. This had the dual benefit of helping much of the party hit Level 9 ... AND it let us scratch "Troll" off our list of classic D&D monster encounters.

Laden with treasure, fully healed and rested, in possession of the fabled Ax of Axton, our heroes set out on their last (?) and greatest (?) journey ...