The Cursed Tomb: Chapter 14 – Poop Revenge Damage

So Adam and Ian don’t feel like they play enough D&D. To rectify this, they started playing a text-based adventure with a couple of friends, still using the 5th edition framework. We thought it would be fun to clean up the transcripts of this adventure and start publishing it in weekly chapters here on the site. Let us know what you think, and please share around! If you missed Chapter 1, check it out here!

Disclaimer: This is the transcript of a text-based D&D game played over a period of 6 months. Bad language included. Picture based dice rolls/media omitted. Names changed to preserve anonymity. Goblin based violence frequent. You have been warned.


Constance: I sweep his legs out from under him with the staff and jump up, catching his face in both hands and driving him into the cart as he falls.

DM: Your staff burns with black light as you fight and you have a vague sense of hunger again, frustrated hunger

DM: He is out for the count

DM: Bronan, you are up

DM: One pigeon man still up, flying in circles above, squawking squawking squawking

Bronan: Bronan bleed, sir dribbles messy, eyes start to glaze, then he sees smashed pigeon man that was killed by the net, and mutter Bronan crush pigeon man, revenge for bedroll and fires a net at the flying one

DM: Superb

‪Bronan: Ballsacks, that’s a 13, too late to use inspiration?

DM: That is actually enough to hit his AC

DM: Shit

DM: Roll 5d6 please bronan

DM: As your heavy net spirals up and ensnares the aaracokras left wing and leg, he starts to fall

‪Bronan: That would be 27 poop revenge damage

DM: Wow

DM: And lands on his head

Constance: Jesus Christ!?

DM: It’s not pretty

Constance: What are those nets made of!

DM: Falling damage antz

DM: Net does no damage, but restrained + flight = really bad times

Constance: Yeah I know. I mistyped that. I meant what are those d6 made of!

DM: Ha

DM: Okay

DM: You are out of initiatibe

DM: And seriously, holy shit guys. Three net shots, three hits. Every javelin thrown hit. You guys smashed that encounter

DM: But now, three aaracokra lay unconscious on the sand, two lie dead

Constance: Let’s drag the three to the cart and restrain them there.

DM: Loot wise, five scimitars, three intact shortbows, 5 quivers with a dozen black arrow each

DM: They are dressed in black robes patched with leather

Constance: Ok. Remove the weapons and chuck them in the back of the truck.

DM: You can recover your nets and javelins etc

Faustus: Cool

‪Bronan: Yup, I do that

DM: Faustus you coming down from the cliff?

DM: What do you do with the corpses?

Constance: Digging is a no no.

‪Bronan: Put them with others I’m cart as warning?

Constance: Let’s cover them with the cover from the cart for now, we can ask the survivors what they normally do with their dead.

Faustus: Before I come down can I see if there are any other birdmen or anything in the distance?

DM: Perception Faustus

DM: So corpses are covered?

Faustus: …

DM: Does that mean you rolled a one…

Faustus: No. Nat 2o.

DM: You also find a compass and a pouch with 15 gold in it

DM: Ha

Constance: Nice. Five each?

DM: You see some birds to the east, but they look like vultures. Aside from that, nothing else

Faustus: Ok I come down

Faustus: 5 each sounds good!

‪Bronan: Thank you friend Faustus *Bronan smiles, blood from his wound turns his smile red* we sleep soon, Bronan kind of achy

‪Bronan: (I’m not really too bad, basically on the hitpoints I had at lvl 1

Constance: Let’s get some questions answered. Then we can decide what to do with these guys.

Faustus: Good job guys. Bronan would you like me to take a look at that wound?

Faustus: Was it 9 damage you took? Constance was unharmed?

DM: Those guys are all unconscious and will wake up in 1d4 hours (Constance roll a d4)

Constance: 4

DM: Yeah they will be out of it pretty much til dawn so you might as well take a long rest

Faustus: Ok. I’ll dress Bronans wound but guess I don’t need to burn a spell or anything.

Bronan: Ah thank you Faustus, ale?

Constance: Ales all round I think Bronan!

Faustus: Agreed!

Bronan: Not for pigeon men though

Constance: No ale for them.

Bronan: I give everyone ales and pour some in a dish for Sir dribbles

DM: So I think you can safely have an ale and a long rest and wake up refreshed! The morning Sun brings a degree of clarity on the battlefield. Two broken bows, some ripped cloth from robes, and a lot of blood on the sand

DM: The three living aaracokra are silent and subdued. The largest has golden feathers and the other two red feathers. They appear to be in pretty bad state

DM: The leader speaks

DM: If you are not going to kill us, would you give us water? A death of dryness is a fate unfit for a warrior

Constance: Of course. I put my water skin up to his beak.

DM: He drinks and thanks you, as do the others as you feed them

DM: So.

DM: I am thinking you are not traders

Constance: (Going out for work lunch so will be gone for a bit)

Faustus: Pause for a bit? I’m on lunch too.

DM: Aye

Constance: (Back)

Bronan: Sometimes Bronan trade, want to buy sand pie? 2 gold

DM: What is sand pie?

Bronan: It not favourite of camel, but some like it

DM: He looks confused

Bronan: I pour a bit of ale on the sand to make it damp, squidgy it into a clump and hold it towards him “sand pie, ale flavour”

DM: He shakes his head

DM: No thank you, net thrower

DM: I’ll take nothing from one who killed my kin

Constance: I would like to start by apologising for the deaths of your friends *indicates covered bodies*

‪Bronan: You not take, shop have strict policy on shoplifting, you want, you buy

DM: You have taken my gold already, so I could not buy

DM: You apologise for ambushing us and killing my brothers? Ha. Groundlings, all the same. Bizarre.

Constance: Well yes. We had no intention of bloodshed if we could avoid it.

DM: Then why did you attack?

‪Bronan: Mmm *Bronan moves nearby with his ale, squats on his heels and watches*

Constance: Why did you feel it appropriate to extort what you thought were simple traders?

DM: All who pass through our sacred land must pay the tax

DM: Traders draw bandits and wild beasts. This harms the Blessed Wind.

DM: They defile our ancestral land with their waste, and do not show respect for the gods

DM: Previously we would have just summoned a hungry wyrm, but the elders think this path is better. Now I see my kin dead in sand, and I am not so sure

DM: What gives you the right to cross our sacred land!?

Constance: Perhaps nothing. But what gives you the right to kill those who would?

Bronan: (from a where he crouched) land big, big enough for all, no need to attack all in land, make peace, live together

DM: It is our land, and has been for as long as any can tell. We threatened no violence. We offered peace and protection and safe passage for a fee.

DM: We must protect our land. Your mayor Sskross would mine our hills and cut our secret groves and dig deep wells. Well. No. We will not allow it

‪Bronan: Scarf-mayor? Scarf-mayor bad man

Constance: Ah. Well. Now we come to the meat of it.

Constance: It seems that we both share a dislike for an individual

Faustus: We’ve seen what happens when people do not pay your tax.

DM: Oh, you dislike yourself?

DM: Have you indeed?

DM: And what would that be

DM: What is it you think you have seen, dragonborn?

Faustus: The violence you insist you don’t threaten. Aarakokora.

DM: Ha. I ask for example. And we threaten no violence, but we will defend our lands from…bad influences

Faustus: East of here. Perhaps a days travel. Less on your wings.

Faustus: (I don’t know if that distance is right)

DM: So the mayor sent you to kill our warriors? You will never take our lands

DM: The caravan? That girl is safe now. We will tolerate no slavery on our lands

DM: Our lands, our laws

Constance: Wait a moment.

Constance: A girl you say?

DM: We rescued her from those men. Caged like a beast for the hundreds of leagues from the west sea

Constance: The mayor did not send us friend.

Faustus: (Womp womp)

DM: Young Krall saw her when he was scouting.

DM: He nods at one of the corpses

Constance: And the killing of your friends was not purposeful. I could have killed you and both your friends but did not.

DM: I do not understand

DM: Why are you here if not from the mayor?

‪Bronan: Hey, birdman

‪Bronan: Bronan have question for you

‪Bronan: Why your people shit in Bronans bedroll for 2 years when Bronan child? What did child Bronan to to you?

‪Bronan: You threaten constance friend, so Bronan throw net, you fire bow at constance friend and still Bronan only throw net, you stab Bronan and STILL Bronan not crush

DM: Shit on your bedroll? Where did this happen, barbarian?

DM: Your memory if that fight and mine differ

‪Bronan: (Bronan is getting angry, sir dribbles snorts) Bronan not here for mayor, Bronan here for friend, here for person in cage, Bronan not here for insults

DM: You are here for the girl in the cage? She is under our protection, and we will not let you take her if it is not her wish

Bronan: Bronan want to crush mayor. Birdmen hide girl from Bronan, try to hurt girl, keep her from people

‪Bronan: (his ale cup on the floor now, ale slowly soaking the sand, Bronans shouting now)

DM: We keep the girl at her request. She does not wish to be a pawn in the mayor’s plans, or anyone elses!

DM: Her power is her own to use, not yours or ours to control

Constance: Calm Bronan.

‪Bronan: Bronan whirls around, sees constance, visibly sighs, “sorry friend constance, Bronan not know what happen, Bronan make breakfast now”

Constance: We have no wish to make anyone a pawn. We simply seek to understand what it is that the mayor is trying to do

DM: The leader sizes you up

DM: The west sea and the red desert is the last path to your kingdoms from the wildlands beyond that is unguarded. It’s guard is the desert. Smugglers use it to bring in…whatever people pay for

DM: The mayor seeks power. He wants our hills for their rock. He wants them so he can control the red plains, and thus the smugglers, and thus the trade and the desert. He has wiped out Bedouin trader camps and desert tribes that stand in his way. He will stop at nothing to destroy us

DM: This girl was to be his weapon

Constance: Who is she?

DM: A tiefling. A devil-born girl from the coast. She is prodigal in her command of magic, her power uncrontrollable. If he could bend such a sorceress to his will he would be…unstoppable

Constance: And your intentions with such a powerful individual?

DM: Keep her safe

DM: We need not her powers, we have our own ways to keep our people safe

Faustus: And… what would this mayor, if domination is his goal, do with a powerful spell gem?

DM: Hm. Well. That would depend on the spell. But nothing good

DM: So you do not work for the mayor?

DM: Who sent you to fight us?

‪Bronan: (Bronan is humming, frying some eggs and bacon with some bread in a pan, and is going to try to chill some ale in another cook pot)

DM: Ha

Bronan: (yes, the eggs were deliberate on my part, but Bronan is oblivious)

Faustus: We came across the site where you ambushed the men transporting the child. We wanted to get to the bottom of the attack, to ensure it did not happen to us.

DM: Well. Take no slaves, and leave our lands (or pay the toll) and the blessed wind have no issue with you

DM: The deaths of our brothers will be mourned, but this seems to be a misunderstanding

DM: Also can you roll deception faustus?

Faustus: There are… others, who do not bear good intentions towards you.

DM: Oh never mind

DM: I see

Faustus: (Erm not right now, I’m in the gym right now.)

DM: Who are these others? Our  enemies seem to grow by the day

Constance: Before we converse further, perhaps introductions. I am Constance. *constance holds our her hand as though to shake hands and then retracts it when she realises that his are tied*

DM: Hahaha

Faustus: Of course. My name is Faustus.

DM: And the barbarian mentioned his name, I believe. Bronan?

‪Bronan: Bronan walks over, oven gloves on holding hot plates of food for constance and Faustus. “yes, Bronan, Bronan sorry for outburst, blood sugar low”

‪Bronan: Birdmen want food? What birdmen eat?


Come back next Monday for Chapter 15 of The Cursed Tomb!


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