Murder Hobos, Trolls, and Redemption

As the bar brawl quickly spun out of control monsters came out of the Yawning Portal and attacked the patrons. The party mostly joined in the defense and were ultimately victorious. After seeing their heroism firsthand, Volothamp Geddarm asked the party to help him find a lost friend. In exchange, he would give them some gold now and much more on success. Volo also offered to pay the 1000gp resurrection fee for the fallen party member Yulgrin Bonemaker. The party agreed and the story continued...

1 Vial of Strange Liquid

Spell Book containing 5 Unknown Arcane Spells

1 Elixir of Health

Hand Crossbow

750 xp | Chula

750 xp | Hanzon Butz

750 xp | Johanna Morrigan

550 xp | Kvothe (150 xp for role playing)

750 xp | Neemin Whispermouse

750 xp | Vulthuryol Umbreal

300 xp | Yulgrin Bonemaker (25 xp for murdering an innocent, 275 xp for being a good sport and sticking to the story)

The following is an account of the evenings events from the perspective of Hanzon Butz   The following story is mostly true. The names — and many of the pertinent details — have been changed because the author forgot them.   It was a quiet evening in the town of Waterbed, and Hanzon Butz was content to spend it the same way he did every night: searching for a tavern that hadn’t yet adopted the increasingly popular “no loincloth, no service” policy.   He’d developed a fondness for a local establishment called the Yawning Something-or-other. That, of course, was certainly not the true name of the establishment, but Hanzon had never actually been very good with names. Back home in the Butz household where he was raised, the only names he really ever concerned himself were those of this Aunt Alotta Butz and his Uncle Seymour Butz, who had both raised him. His uncle had always taught him “If it ain’t about Butz, it ain’t about nothin”, and Hanzon had applied this lesson to every aspect of his life.   In spite of never truly learning the actual name of the tavern (or even the town he was in), he did truly enjoy the locale. This was mostly attributed to the fact that the bar stools were lined in animal fur, and the extra absorbency in one’s seat is something a practicing nudist quickly learns to appreciate, especially on hot summer nights. But tonight was a special night, as tonight a group of new adventurers had caught Hanzon's eye. In truth, it was just the overly large Goliath woman that had caught his eye, but the other individuals with her were worthy of honorable mention as well.   He’d wandered over to them and struck up a conversation. They were pleasant enough and had all introduced themselves in turn. Hanzon, of course, promptly forgot all of their names, but had compensated by making up his own names for each of them.   Seated near the fire, sprawled out on the bear rug, was Ye Ole Bone-a-rino, or Boney for short, a Dwarven cleric. Hanzon was pleased to meet a fellow Dwarf, even if he was a little on the overdressed side as far as Hanzon was concerned. In all fairness, Hanzon had never met a single individual outside of his village who wasn’t on the overdressed side.   Nearby was a human woman, who was rather conspicuously eyeballing every chest and cabinet behind the bar. Hanzon remembered her as Chupa Chups, the fire ballin Rogue. He was impressed with anyone who identified as a Fire Baller, and he felt that this title almost made up for the fact that she was a human…almost.   Spread across three stools at once was the most voluptuous lady Hanzon had ever laid eyes on. She was a Goliath woman who went by the name of Juwanna SnuSnu. Hanzon enjoyed the company of just about any female with a pulse, but he had a very special interest in overly large women. One of his favorite pickup lines had always been “How much can you hold in your pouch of holding?” This line had worked for him exactly never.   Standing awkwardly in the middle of everyone was a large Dragonborn by the name of Volty Umbilical. Hanzon could never tell the difference between males and females among Dragonborns, and he had given up trying after a few uncomfortable surprises on three distinct Tinder dates. Though the creature was certainly large, and attractive in certain lights, Hanzon thought it safer to not “swipe right” in this particular case.   Posted up nearby at the bar was a curious fellow by the name of Quoth. Or was it Kwat?…Cot?…Kathy? Hanzon had honestly no idea how this guy had said he pronounced his name, but, in the end, he was both human and a bard, so Hanzon couldn’t imagine anyone actually cared. The man generally kept to himself at the bar, downing pint after pint of the worst ale the tavern had available and muttering incoherently something about the girth of this mule.   Finally, directly next to Hanzon, standing on a barstool, attempting to get the bartender’s attention, was a halfling by the name of Newman Whispergerbile. The thought of potentially finding another kindred spirit who whispered to gerbils filled Hanzon with excitement, and he had decided to ask this fellow where he kept his little furry friends. In his heart, however, he knew the odds were very low that the halfling had the same approach to gerbil storage that he did.   But before Hanzon could broach the subject of rectal rodents, a ruckus suddenly erupted across the room. The sounds of drunken shouting and the rattling of tables and chairs replaced the previous hum of low voices that had filled the tavern before. Several humans had picked a fight with a female Orc, and heavy blows were already being exchanged. Several tables were overthrown and chairs started to scatter around the ongoing slobber-knocker. The quickly escalating scuffle distracted the members of Hanzon's newfound party.   Newman made good use of the commotion, leveraging the distraction to reach into the pants of a man standing nearby. The Halfling managed to deftly retrieve six silver coins and the man's house keys, and the man was none the wiser. Seeing the man robbed of his bar funds only reinforced Hanzon's belief that pants were the most impractical place to store things. Though he had seen his fair share of thieves in his time, he had never once encountered a pickpocket willing to try their luck at reaching into the pocket where Hanzon kept his coins...not unless he was paying them for the service, of course.   Though the brawl had captured the attention of most of the patrons in the tavern, Hanzon's focus was drawn to something else entirely. On the opposite side of the room sat a human bard, dressed in a t-shirt, board shorts and flip-flops. The bard had no facial hair, save for a small soul patch under his lip, and his long blonde hair had been tied up into an especially douchey-looking man bun. The bard was surrounded by a group of high school age girls, all listening as he strummed his loot and sang in a strained falsetto. Hanzon would have found this offensive no matter the choice in song, but the fact that the bard heavily favored Nickelback covers only compounded the problem. As Hanzon began to involuntarily grind his teeth, the bard sang out "Look at this photograph...".   The Dwarves of Hanzon's village lived by a strict code of honor, and this code was based on three simple life principles. The first principle summarized the essence of their culture: "Live Free, Die Naked". The second was equally simple: "Humans suck". And the third was "Never abide a man quoting the lyrics to a Chad Kroeger song". Hanzon had never quite understood the origin of the third principle, but honor was honor, and it was his sworn duty to silence this bard.   Hanzon turned to the man beside him he'd decided to call Kathy. "Hold my beer..." he said, handing the man his mug and getting up to quickly move in the direction of the bard. Kathy gave a solemn nod, then immediately drank Hanzon's beer the moment he stepped away.   At the exact same time, Volty had decided enough was enough, and had opted to try his hand at quieting the scuffle between the humans and the female Orc. The Dragonborn yelled something out in an ancient language and cast a sleeping spell over the brawlers. The "ancient language" was in fact just the common tongue, but Hanzon had an awful time deciphering the thick accents of Dragonborns, and it all sounded like gibberish to him in the end.   The sleeping spell had a sufficient radius to cover the entire fight, but the spell was poorly executed and only had an effect on the female Orc, rendering her unconscious almost immediately. Volty nodded in approval, apparently feeling quite satisfied with having managed to only put the victim of the fight to sleep, as the humans began pummeling the sleeping Orc.   Chupa Chups moved closer to the fray, in an attempt to gain some valuable information. She asked the humans why they were wailing on the unconscious Orc. The humans largely ignored the Fire Ballin Rogue's line of questioning, but did briefly pause to flash a gang sign, which they felt sufficed for an answer. Hanzon had already identified the humans as Crips. His Uncle Seymour had taught him much about gangs as a child, often quoting the ancient philosopher and poet Snoop Dogg: "they keep a blue flag hanging out their back side, but only on the left side, yeah that's the Crip side".   Chupa Chups looked slightly dismayed by the human's response. She kept frantically scurrying around the brawl, searching for clues and muttering to herself "there's gotta be a quest in here somewhere...this fight has to mean something...".   It was Juwanna's turn now to get involved in the fray. She stood up from her three stools and gave a shout "SnuSnu powers activate! Form of...a honey badger!". A bright light flashed and a puff of smoke followed. As the smoke slowly faded, it was revealed that the Goliath woman's previous form had been replaced by a large bear. Hanzon thought for a moment that someone ought to tell her what badgers actually looked like, but before he could do so, the bear roared and broke out into a run, charging directly at Hanzon.   Now Hanzon could have run; he could have ducked behind cover; he could have climbed a tree; he could have done any number of things to dodge the oncoming bear. But instead he stood stone still, unable to move as he was overwhelmed with the thought that he might actually reach his lifelong dream: death by SnuSnu. The fantasy quickly faded, however, as the bear rapidly closed the distance, opening its massive jaws and clamping down firmly on Hanzon's bare left butt cheek.   Hanzon let out a loud squeal. He wasn't sure if the shapeshifting Giantess was attacking him as retribution for all of Hanzon's failed pickup lines, or if her bear form was simply attracted to the leftover salmon lunch he still had in his prison pouch. Whatever the reason, Hanzon found himself wishing, at that moment, he'd been raised by a village of Dwarves who believed in wearing chain mail.   Hanzon hadn't been paying much attention the actions of the rest of his party, but in between wincing in pain, he noticed something across the room. It was Boney, his fellow Dwarf, standing on top of a table, his war hammer held with both hands above his head. Before anyone could make sense of what they were seeing, the Dwarf swung the hammer with all his might, bringing it down squarely atop the head of another bar patron. The man's head collapsed like a wet paper bag, spattering chunks and fine pink mist in every direction. The scene looked like something out of a Gallagher show, if Gallagher was into cold-blooded murder instead of watermelons.   Time seemed to stand still for a moment. The humans stopped pummeling the unconscious Orc, Juwanna released her hold on Hanzon's butt cheek, Hanzon stopped whimpering like a school girl, and a hushed silence fell over the entire tavern as everyone stared at the blood-spattered Dwarf.   Boney's eyes darted from left to right. "But...he had a rake...indoors. Nobody rakes indoors...he was up to something. Somebody had to stop this guy. I...I was just doing what had to be done!", the Dwarf frantically tried to explain. "Enough!" a voice erupted from behind the bar. It was Durnan, the owner of the establishment, who had hopped over the bar and was running towards Boney, brandishing a great sword that looked almost as big as he was.   Normally, Hanzon would have forgotten the barkeep's name immediately, but the barkeep wore a name tag that read "Hi! My name is Durnan". This made the task of remembering the owner's name an easy one.   "You will surrender immediately and wait for the town guards!", Durnan bellowed, holding his sword up to Boney's throat. At the mention of the town guards, the humans who had started the brawl decided to make a quick exit, along with many of the tavern's patrons.   All the color drained from Boney's face as terror began to take hold of him. He looked back and forth between Durnan and the bar exit, clearly weighing his options. "I...I can't go back to prison! I like it on the outside. I've gotten used to showering alone!", he yelled, pushing chairs out of his way and attempting to make a dash for the door.   But while Boney was many things, quick was not one of them. Durnan raised his great sword up and brought it down so fast that Hanzon barely saw it move. At first, it looked as though the barkeep had missed entirely and that Boney might actually escape. But Boney stood completely still after the swing, a vacant look taking hold in his eyes. After a moment, the Dwarf's armor slid off him, parting cleanly down the middle and clattering to the floor. The Dwarf's body then followed in kind, splitting into two perfect halves and falling to the floor with a wet thud as blood pooled in mass underfoot.   At least he had died naked...the only fitting end for a Dwarf in Hanzon's mind. Hanzon closed his eyes and said a prayer to St Barey, the patron saint of Nudists.   Durnan looked back at the rest of the party. "Ye can revive yer friend, ya know. For two thousand gold pieces, there be some folks in town who would be willing to bring him back." Though everyone had clearly heard Durnan's offer, all members of the party casually looked away and began to whistle nonchalantly, while slowly backing away.   Seeing an opportunity to finally advance the plot, Chupa Chups sprang into action and immediately began to pilfer the unconscious Orc still lying on the floor. "There's gotta be a quest, gotta be a quest, gotta be a quest...everything has a meaning" she muttered to herself hysterically as she searched the body from top to bottom. She dug into the Orc's pocket and shouted "Eureka!", as she pulled out a half-eaten lamb chop and held it proudly above her head.   The party gave a collective groan as they eyed the "quest" that Chupa Chups had discovered. But before anyone could comment, a thunderous roar echoed from the giant pit in the middle of the tavern.   By now, you might be thinking that the presence of a very large and impossibly deep pit in the middle of the tavern might have been a detail worth mentioning at the beginning of this story. After all the detail that was paid to the absorbent covers of the tavern's bar stools, you would probably think that some exposition could have been dedicated towards the description of a feature as prominent and as relevant as a giant hole in the room that was known to hold oversized monsters. You might also want to point out that some degree of explanation is required to justify why anyone in their right mind would even want to build a bar around a big ass monster pit. While both of those points are valid, the author will kindly ask that you refrain from critiquing his writing. For the sake of this story, let's just say that pit had always been there, and its contents well-known, but that our adventurers were still somehow surprised to hear a monster emerging from it. It doesn't have to make sense...just roll with it.   Everyone still in the bar immediately looked over to the pit, just in time to see three Texas-sized Mosquitoes emerge. The large creatures buzzed around the top of the tavern, swooping low occasionally and causing the bar's patrons to squeal and duck under tables for cover. One of the big bugs locked eyes on a barmaid struggling to get back behind the bar. The buzzing nightmare swooped in and pounced in the helpless barmaid, pinning her to the ground and burying its large stinger directly in her neck, sucking the life out of her and draining her like an empty pouch of Capri Sun.   Another of the grotesque insects came upon the bloody remains of Boney and seemed content to lap up the mess. The creature took turns sipping the blood up from the floor like a straw and feasting intermittently on the two separate halves of Boney's body.   The third insect came swooping down on a direct path for Hanzon and Juwanna. Instinctively, Hanzon reached into his magical prison pouch of holding and fumbled around desperately for a weapon to use against the incoming attacker.   These magical pouches were unique to the tribe Hanzon grew up in. The Dwarves in his village had all sworn a blood oath to remain true to their nudist values, and that included carrying no backpacks or belts. This would have made life as an adventurer especially difficult were it not for the special pouches created by the villagers. These pouches could fit neatly inside the body orifice of one's choosing, and were imbued with magic, making them capable of holding many times their size and weight. The magic within the pouch was bound to the life force of its holder, meaning the capacity of the pouch could improve as the strength and skill of the holder increased. Hanzon's pouch was only capable of holding 16 cubic feet, but the pouch of his old village Chief was able to hold far more than that. All the members of the village could meet inside of the Chief's pouch for weekly town halls with plenty of room to spare, and the Chief was even flexible enough to fit his entire head in there as well and address the people of his village.   In combat situations, however, the pouch was an inconvenience. It was often difficult for Hanzon to find anything quickly, and it was a real crap shoot as to which item he'd actually pull out in a crisis situation. His hand latched on to the first item it could find, and he pulled it out to see what he'd grabbed -- a bag of sand. Hanzon had just resigned himself to sharing the same fate as the barmaid -- who was now looking a lot like a dried up raisin -- when suddenly Juwanna, still in her bear form, leapt up and grabbed the incoming insect in her jaws. Blood spattered everywhere as Juwanna shook the insect violently and cast it over to the side of the pit.   Before anyone could celebrate, a second roar erupted from the pit, and a large hand came up from the pit, grabbing on to the ledge at the top. A second hand quickly emerged and a large monster began to pull itself up from the depths. The monster climbed out and stood up to reveal itself as a massive troll, barely able to fit under the vaulted roof of the tavern. The troll scanned the room and lashed out at the nearest person, which just happened to be poor Newman. The troll's large fist connected directly with Newman's body and sent him flying across the room. The Halfling landed hard on the floor and didn't stir, clearly down the for count.   Shock fell over the party. Hanzon's mind raced for ideas on how best to take down the large new threat. But before he could think of anything, a high pitched voice spoke up from behind him. "I'll help you all with my song!". The voice then began to strum a loot and sang the words "Never made it as a wise man. I couldn't cut it as a poor man stealing...".   It was the bard, still hanging out in the bar, and still determined to assault Hanzon's eardrums with the music of Chad Kroeger. Hanzon took the sand he'd previously removed from his anus and threw it directly in the face of the bard. He then followed it up with a large right hook that sent the bard toppling head over heels.   Hanzon then bent over, grabbing his ankles, and yelled "Attack, Butterbean!". Hanzon's trusted rectal rodent then darted out from his damp burrow, bolting quickly over to the troll. The troll made several attempts to squish the furry fellow, but Butterbean was far too quick to be hit by the slow moving attacks. The distraction opened up an opportunity for the other members of the party to attack.   Juwanna moved over to attack the second oversized mosquito that had been feasting on the barmaid. In a single strike from her jaws, the second blood-sucking creature went down just as easily as the first.   Seemingly taking advantage of the opening, Kathy stood up from the bar, where he had apparently been sitting the entire time. He waltzed over the troll and attempted to use his bard skills to charm the troll, with a wild gleam in his eye. Trolls, are, however, immune to charm spells, so the bard's attempts had no effect.   Kathy clearly looked disappointed by the result. But rather than issuing another attack, the bard simply turned around and began to walk towards the exit in the back. On his way, he grabbed the hand of the barmaid on the floor, and began to drag her empty juice box of a body along with him. As he passed by, Hanzon could hear the man muttering to himself something to the effect of "I hope my mule doesn't think three's a crowd tonight...", just before he disappeared completely out the door with the barmaid in tow.   Everyone looked around uncomfortably, and even the troll seemed to be a little weirded out by the turn of events. Durnan, however, capitalized on the opening, swinging his massive sword at the large troll and cleaving it nearly in two. The torso of the troll slumped over backwards and was dangling from its own waist by only a few meaty threads.   The victory, however, was short-lived as the threads connecting the torso to the rest of the body quickly began to thicken and multiply. The torso slowly began to raise back up and the large gaping hole in the troll's gut began to close completely. "Fire!", Durnan yelled. "Trolls will only regenerate in response to physical attacks, you have to use fire!"   Hanzon didn't have any fire, or at least he didn't think he did. It's not like he could actually see into his prison pouch, so who knew exactly what he had up there. But he did have a rapier in storage that might prove helpful. It was, however, always a little tricky to finagle the sword out from its place. Hanzon bent down into a squatting position and grabbed hold of the tip of the blade. Using both hands, he slowly inched the blade out from the pouch.   He was making good progress until the hilt of the sword got hung up on the lip of the pouch and wouldn't break free. Hanzon pulled harder, curling himself into a ball and rolling onto his back with his legs up in the air, as he struggled to get the blade free from his colon cabinet.   All combat seemed to stop for a moment as everyone in the tavern watched the display, the Troll and remaining mosquito included. "Please don't watch", Hanzon grunted, "it's only harder when people watch...".   Durnan struck again at the Troll, dealing the same heavy blow he'd delivered before. This time, however, Volty was quick to jump in and add his own strike to the mix. The large Dragonborn let out a roar followed by an incantation that sounded once again like gibberish to Hanzon. The warrior then unleashed a large fire attack in the general direction of the crumpled Troll's body.   But, just like the previous sleep spell, Volt's fire spell was pretty poorly executed as the attack went wide and struck the ceiling, singing the rafters in turn. Volt looked sheepishly over at Durnan who was glaring back at the Dragonborn fiercely.   Volt sighed and decided to try again, repeating the incantation and firing a second fireball at the Troll. This time, the fire found its mark and the spell exploded against the fallen Troll's body. The Troll screamed as the fires consumed him until nothing remained but ash.   In the meantime, Hanzon had managed to wrestle the rapier from his pouch, and stood ready for battle. But, upon realizing the Troll no longer posed a thread, he turned his attention to the last remaining mosquito, who up until now had been having a feast on Boney's dead corpse.   Hanzon called out to his gerbil, "Butterbean, Kamikazee attack!". The furry crusader then returned to its master, hopping into his hand and making a rocket pose. Hanzon then hurled the rodent into the air in the general direction of the remaining mosquito. The gerbil missile made impact on the side of the large insect, but because of the amount of blood the mosquito had consumed, the furry rocket man bounced off without doing any real damage to its target.   Just then, Chupa Chups, whom no one had even seen since the fight started, decided to follow Volt's example. Using a fireball of her own, the very attack that had been her namesake, she launched a strike at the remaining mosquito. The attack was dead on, and the remaining mosquito erupted in flames, burning the insect to a crisp...along with Boney's remains.   The battle was over, and everyone struck their respective heroic poses to bask in a battle well-fought. Newman woke up and was able to stand to his feet, and Hanzon slowly put his tools back into his pouch, with Butterbean's help.   Most of the party then immediately scattered to try to collect loot, which apparently also included robbing Durnan's tavern. Chupa Chups broke into Durnan's office and proceeded to remove every thing of possible value, while Juwanna and Volt distracted Durnan.   The spoils included: • 1 vial of strange liquid...stored in the bum of holding • A spell book containing 5 spells...stored in the bum of holding • A pair of contact lenses, which probably have a cool name, but they're really just contact lenses...stored in the bum of holding • A magical item called Hayward's Wrinkly Sack. This item is not placed into the bum of holding, as it would cause a chain reaction according to the laws of bum physics. • 1 Elixir of Health...stored in the bum of holding • 1 Hand crossbow...stored in Hayward's Wrinkly Sack   After the party was finished robbing him blind, they all gather back around Durnan. After looking over at the charred remains of Boney, Durnan once again reminds the party that Boney can still be revived...there are still no takers in the party.   Sensing that a lack of money might be the problem, Durnan offered to put the adventurers in touch with someone who could provide a loan for the cost of revival...there were still no takers among the party.   "I might be able to help with that". A voice spoke up from behind the group, and a small man emerged from the shadows twirling his mustache. "I can pay for your friend's revival, if you help me with a task".   The party sat in silence...not even so much as a nibble on the offer.   "Err...uh, fine, I'll pay for your friend's revival and pay you each 10 dragons a piece up front to help me with a task", the man offered, after clearly reading the lack of interest in his earlier offer.   The strange mustache-twirling man introduced himself as Volvo Whatsa-ma-call-it. That, of course, was most certainly not his name, but Hanzon was never very good with names. Volvo told the adventurers that he was looking for his friend Floonbo Baggins, and the steep price that he'd offered to pay the adventurers was to help him find his friend.   And so we end this chapter of our story. What new adventures await our heroes? Find out on our next episode of The Waterbed Campaign! Same Waterbed time; same Waterbed channel.   [roll end credits, as music plays and Boney is slowly scraped off the floor with a spatula]