Slain by Elf

Ambushed! As we travel through a cliff pass of sorts, some loud bangs startle our horses. A couple of us manage to control our mounts, a couple don't, causing their mounts to sprint down the path away from the noise. As they do, a pair of half-orcs appear above us and start shooting.

We have no choice but to enter combat with the half-orcs, even though they have the advantage of height and range. One of the enemies shoots an arrow at our cleric.

'Are you in melee?'

'Nope.'

'So the half-orc isn't getting penalised for firing in to combat?'

'Nope.'

'So don't just stand there, punch your horse!'

Out of the city, making our way to our destination along a road that hopefully isn't subject to many patrols. Just in case, our contact is taking us on a route that is rarely trod.

'I'm sure there's a good reason why we're planning to go through the Fire Forest of whatever it was.'

'The Fire Forest of TPK. No one knows what the initials stand for. Because no one comes out the other side. It'll be fine, though.'

We get the case and the information inside, now we need to get it out of the city and to safe hands who know what to do with it. Getting out of a city that is somewhat sieged and being held to ransom won't be as easy as walking out of the gates at midnight, however.

Our contact with the resistance sets up a meeting with a councillor who can apparently get people out of the city somewhat legitimately. He's rather eccentric and awfully rich, and quite influential. As we are exchanging pleasantries, he shows us some of the paraphernalia that his house was preparing for the celebration of the new year, which has now been cancelled. This includes a load of weapons made of flowers, and dresses made of sweets.

'Well, if they're not going to be used...'

'No. We are not bloody walking out of the south gate, past the guards, wearing dresses made of Liquorice Allsorts! I know we aren't the best adventuring party in the world, and that most of our plans are shoddy, ill-considered nonsense, to say the least, but there is a limit, which definitely includes refusing to disguise ourselves as Bertie-bloody-Bassett!'

'I just wanted to eat some of them.'

Aggar's mysterious voice is talking again, except this time we can all hear it. It wants the case that we've recovered, which we are fine with, but only after we've got what's inside the case, which the voice is fine with. The problem is that we can't open the case.

My terrible diplomacy works wonders, in a terrible way, and forces the issue. A glazed look comes over Thrak's eyes, and he is convinced that our best option to resolve the conflict is to just hand the case over. Not on our watch, mister. Salvador grabs the case from the table before Thrak can get his mits on it.

Our reluctance to give away the information we've fought for has the invisible voice reveal itself, as the imp attacks Salvador with his sting, wanting to take the case by force. The sting hits, piercing Salvador's skin, and poisoning him.

'I say, little fellow', says Thrak in response, 'that's very bad form'.

Best dwarf barbarian ever.

Inside the elven enclave, we've surprised the elf wizard leading us to the case we're after by ambushing and killing her. The surprise didn't last long. Now we've found the building where the case is supposed to be, and been let in all by following the voices in Aggar's head. No, it's not ideal.

Also not ideal is that we get in to the building by setting off a trap, which gets an alarm bell ringing. The celestial guard badgers growl at us for a bit, before our two critter killers despatch them with a little too much fervour.

There's no sign of the case on the ground floor, so up the stairs we go, my leading the way. I stop abruptly, seeing two elf fighters in chainmail appearing at the top of the stairs.

'This is the time to use the devastating spell you've been saving for this moment!'

'Disguise self?'

'Yep, as an elf.'

'An elf that's a good foot shorter than the shortest elf on record? I'm not sure that would be convincing. An elf child, on the other hand...'

'How about a mutant, disfigured elf?' says Thrak, making a callback to an entirely different adventure, and adventuring party. And race.

'You could pretend to be kneeling down', says Salvador.

'Or an elf that doesn't have any legs!' adds Aggar.

'Or—or—an elf child! I'm pretty sure one of us suggested that already. No wonder none of you are wizards specialising in illusions, you're freaking idiots.'

We track the case we are after and find that it has been taken by elves, who want the information inside it for themselves. With a bit of diplomacy and compromise, we strike a deal to at least be able to see what is inside the case before they whisk it away to their lands.

The case has already been taken to an elven enclave within the city, which we are led to. The whole of the enclave looks like walls to us, but the elf leading us walks up to a certain spot, presses something that we couldn't see, and a door opens.

'Pah, elven secret doors', spits Thrak. 'Dwarf secret doors are better.'

'But they're generally just stone doorways, aren't they? Failing to put a door in the hole doesn't make it secret.'

'Is there anyone at the temple who can identify this flask of oil the soldier was carrying?'

'I imagine so, yes.

'Hi, can you identify this flask of oil, please?'

'We're not there yet.'

Our connection goes somewhat awry. For a start, our contact identifies me, a gnome, to be his contact, a human. He gets shifty, we remain clueless. Of course, us being the greatest detectives in the realm, we spook him.

The gnome flees, hitting the first-floor balcony and starting to scrabble up the side of the building, somewhat spider-like. Salvador gives chase, barging open the door, through which Thrak runs and tries to grab the gnome, knowing we want answers and not a dead body. He misses.

A light appears from the floor above, which Salvador recognises as a lantern archon, a lawful-good planar being. They must have met before, because a light from the archon engulfs both Salvador and Thrak, dooming them, just a little bit. The gnome remains in good health and climbs up to the next story.

Undeterred, Salvador shares his plan to reach the next balcony. 'I'm going to jump up there. All I need is a run up.'

Once reminded that the building is circular and convex, and that most people have trouble changing directions in mid-air, Salvador decides instead to find a ramp up to the next balcony and keep his feet planted on a solid surface. He does this, catches up with the gnome, and tries to grab him, failing.

I knew it. No one really wants to touch a gnome.

Heading in to the depository to meet a contact and collect a case, we are told that inside there is a 'very ugly gnome indeed'.

'That's okay', says Thrak, our dwarf barbarian, 'we're used to dealing with ugly gnomes.' Thrak looks my way, me being a gnome. '...not mentioning any names.'

'What is my name?'

'I literally have no idea.'

'Uh-huh.'

'A bow 'n' arrow goes flying past you.'

'A bow and arrow? I don't think he's doing it right.'

'No, a bone arrow.'

'That makes more sense.'