#i cannot avoid fucking strahd

[vimoftheforest]

found out the man I've been romancing since we got into The Lands™ isn't actually the doctor....

[mylordshesacactus]

VERY soft about my girl Atri tonight tho.

She's a little baby cleric, nineteen, level 2 and one of those is in ranger, raised in a cloister, never been more than a day's travel from her home temple before, but her devotion to the Raven Queen is very real and very very tender.

We're running Death House as the optional intro to Curse of Strahd (so, spoilers if you're avoiding those!) and just. God, I'm so glad I decided to play my girl in this campaign, it's perfect for her.

Atri's defining character trait is that she loves the undead--truly and genuinely, even the mindless or vicious undead, because by their very nature the undead suffer. They're trapped--sometimes in prisons of their own making, yes, but trapped--and, worst of all, very few people seem to care. Even other clerics of her Lady generally view undead as abominations; to be pitied, maybe, and the peaceful ones treated with kindness, but objects of revulsion, an aberration of the natural order, something to be purged.

Atri says: The undead aren't abominations. Necromancers are.

In her world the Goddess of Death makes a promise: All chains are broken. Death means an end--no more joy and memories but no more suffering, no more fear, no more loneliness or pain. No matter what, or what you did in life, bad or good--death ends it. No one can hurt you, and you can't hurt anyone else.

Necromancy breaks that promise. It gives cruel spirits the ability to continue harming others when they should be past all chance of it, and it allows the innocent to continue to suffer. Spirit-binding is an obscenity--you cannot command a soul. No one has that right.

Which means this module has been, just...I couldn't design a scenario to better let Atri shine.

It says a lot about her that, having more than established that the lady of the house murdered her husband and his pregnant paramour using fucked-up necromancy and her vengeful spirit appears to still be around, Atri's response was...to gulp, light incense in her censor, and walk a slow circle around the room, calling out politely to the Lady Elizabeth and offering her some understanding--you must have been very hurt, and very angry. Your husband disrespected you in your own home, and that was wrong of him. I'm sorry you were betrayed that way. Will you talk to me? I'm Atri, Order of the Broken Chain, I'm here to help...

(It says a lot about her, also, that she made no further attempt at reconciliation after finding what she did to her victims. Compassion doesn't mean forgiveness. She just...lit the incense again, called out to what was left of Klara, and very very softly apologized. You were taken advantage of--whether you felt that way or not. And then you were hurt very badly by your employer. They shouldn't have done any of it...I'm sorry. Someone should have helped you...)

The party in and out of character has been pushing Atri to the forefront to do the talking-to-ghosts bit. She's had some lovely, lovely tender conversations with Klara and the kids, telling them how sorry she is, that she and her friends are here to help them...she cut the bindings on the bed where Klara was tortured to death, just as a gesture that might bring her spirit some closure. Broken chains, a promise kept too late. Recited full funerary rites over what was left of the poor woman's body.

Just feeling VERY soft that while we DID ask them important questions about the plot, 90% of Atri's conversations with ghosts in this house haven't been about mystery-solving; they've been about slowly, gently, prying free some of the pain that's kept them trapped in the place just as much as the fucked-up necromancy.

If Atri dies in this prologue, calling it now it'll be because she's not gonna run if it means leaving anyone behind.

[dndeviants]

Battle with the Abbot

Strahd leaped from his seat and grabbed the Abbot’s hand, his face contorting into something inhuman as his eyes glowed red, his sclera turned black, his nose drew back from his face into the shape of a bat’s, his fangs extended from his mouth.

Strahd hissed, “Cease this! Don’t you dare lay a hand on her, nor my guests!”

Strahd’s hand burned, his flesh sizzled as he touched the holy creature, but he extended his claws, and held on tight. He wouldn’t show weakness now.

The Abbot looked to Strahd in disgust, “I had aims to help you, you unholy, pitiable mess! But I see now that some sinners cannot be saved.”

The Abbot glowed and his form shimmered. He began a transformation of his own... His skin paled to a glowing silver. His eyes turned pure white, as did his hair... He looked youthful and young. 

His drab vestments fell away, revealing a well muscled, but nude form, lacking any distinguishing characteristics of sex. 

Finally, his wings unfurled, showering those around the Abbot in a golden light. He pulled away from Strahd’s grasp and rose above everyone with a disapproving look.

“All of you sinners will receive judgment. I am the most trusted deva in the service of Lathander Morninglord... and now I will send you to him.“

Mina quickly loaded her crossbow, no longer content to wait. She fired one bolt at him, hitting him in the chest. 

He seemed unfazed. She reloaded, aimed and-

Tlik! She was too quick and not careful. Her crossbow jammed, “SHIT!” She cried out, fiddling with the loading mechanism.

The Abbot’s head snapped toward Mina, he raised his glowing hand...

“Language,“ he simply said as he hurled a ball of flaming gold at the woman. 

Mina ran from the flames, heat scorching her back.

Strahd drew his sword from his side and sliced upward at the angelic creature. The Abbot reeled back from the blow, and dodged narrowly as Strahd’s return swing aimed to cleave the creature’s head in half.

Ruki stood, brandishing her Ba’al Verzi daggers. She drew the Mark of Death on the Abbot, before launching herself headfirst at the deva. She infused her blades with mystic power, warping the air around her as she cut into the Abbot.

The Abbot’s form flickered, before settling back in. He looked to Ruki, “Fiendish filth. How dare you attack a servant of the Morninglord?”

The Abbot raised his hand to strike her down as a rapier slid through his back. 

Aric removed his rapier and rolled out of sight, doing his best to conceal his body.

The Abbot staggered and whirled around to look for his assailant. His eyes settled on Aric. Aric could feel his stomach churn with dread.

This isn’t good... thought Aric, grimly.

The Abbot’s eyes burned brightly as he commanded, "Vasilka, remove this pest..."

The golem that had previously been motionless, rose obediently, her eyes glazing over. She lumbered over to the rogue and raised her arms. She slammed Aric.

Aric flew threw the air, stunned. The golem looked like a small, frail woman. But her strength was incredible. He positioned himself to land on his feet, and just barely managed to keep himself from falling prone. His eyes watered, head pounded, and his lungs ached from having the wind knocked from them.

“Aric!“ Jeeves cried out, reaching for his crossbow. He fired a shot at the golem, the force of the blow staggered her. 

Victor Vallakovich held out his hands in front of him, summoning arcane power to fire magic missiles at Vasilka. They landed on her, throwing her away from Aric

Linda pulled out her revolver, determined to put down this fallen angel. Three shots rang out, and struck their target, but it didn’t seem to do much of anything.

She swore to herself. This wasn’t a kind of creature she was prepared to tussle with.

“Stop this, please!“ Sergei cried out, his hands alight with radiant light. 

The Abbot looked to his protegee, “Sergei, this is an unholy creature of the night and his allies... You know what has to be done.”

Sergei glowered, “I do,” his hands were aglow with holy energy as he squared on Strahd...

This is it. Fate’s recompense... My brother will kill me on this day, as I have killed him... So be it. Strahd faced his brother. 

Sergei hurled the holy energy. Like a lightning bolt it flew out of his hands, and passed by Strahd, striking the Abbot behind him.

The Abbot flew into a rage as Sergei chose his side, “You dare use my own spell against me?!”

Strahd was just as shocked as the Abbot.

Sergei’s face was stern with righteous fury, “The Morninglord I know wouldn’t condone this! Killing the innocent? Torturing those in your care? You are not the man I looked up to! You are the monster here!”

That was all the time Mina needed. She re-set her loading mechanism, fixing it.

“Back in the fight!“ she cried out as she loosed another bolt into the Abbot’s wing.

The Abbot’s wings fluttered as he was knocked off his balance. He landed and held out his hand... a golden mace manifested in the deva’s previously empty palm. He gripped it tight and launched himself at Strahd.

“You have corrupted my apprentice with your very presence!“ The Abbot cried.

He raised the mace high and brought it down. 

Strahd raised his sword in defense- a little too late. The mace slipped right past and buried itself in his shoulder. Despite his best efforts, he bellowed in pain as the blow broke bones, and the holy aura ate through his skin like acid... burning through his flesh, charring muscle, exposing bone...

“I was a fool to take pity on you. I should have destroyed you when I had the chance!“ The Abbot made a return swing with his mace.

Another hit. It seemed like he was taking the opportunity now.

Strahd staggered... his eyes bleary from the pain. He could feel that death was upon him... he tried to reach out to the Heart of Sorrow in Castle Ravenloft-

The connection was severed.

How? He thought, then realized with dread that Khazan’s spell drain had severed his connection to his shield... 

He cursed, thanking the powers that be that there was no sunlight to further his weaknesses. He raised his good arm and tried to blight the deva... Surely a creature of holiness would be susceptible to unholy power...

The Abbot still stood, angrily, and hardly effected by Strahd’s use of magic... He raised the mace again...

Tactical retreat. Strahd’s form wavered as he summoned a magical mist to take him outside of the Abbot’s melee range. He couldn’t afford to take another blow like that... not in this situation... 

He could feel his regeneration delayed... all he needed was time...  He tried not to focus on the pain that wracked his undead body as the holy energy continued to eat away at him.

“Lord Strahd!“ Ruki’s eyes flashed white with psionic energy as she struck at the deva. 

He dodged her advances. Fury fueled her as she slashed at him, forcing him to focus on her instead.

The Abbot raised his mace defensively, and warded off Aric as he came at him. He turned his focus on the two attacking him, and commanded Vasilka:

"Finish the vampire!"

Vasilka obediently rose and turned to face Strahd, her arms outstretched. She hobbled over to the weakened vampire and swung her arms...

Strahd flew backward... Vasilka pursued him, raised her arms...

Strahd rolled out of the way, ignoring the pain of his broken bones as he did so...  

She still pursued... Strahd summoned his will power to survive and moved quickly past the golem, slipping from her, and retreating behind Victor and Jeeves’ position.

Linda ran to a better position and took aim... One shot, two shots... three-

Tink! She pulled the trigger, and nothing happened. Dread gripped her. A jam. Now of all times?

“Fuck!“ she cried out. She fiddled with her repair kit, twisting... there. Fixed. 

She leveled her gun. Let’s try this again, shall we...

Three...

The shot rang out and hit the Abbot... this one actually seemed to do something. The Abbot’s form wavered, and began to show wounds... His skin turned dark gray...

But he still stood.

Vasilka mindlessly continued her pursuit of Strahd, barreling toward Victor and Jeeves. 

Victor released a fire bolt at the golem, panicking, “Stay away from me! ”

Jeeves braced himself for the attack...

Sergei turned to the golem, calling to everyone over there, “Watch out!”

He hurled that divine energy at the creature, staggering her.

Mina focused on the Abbot, loading her crossbow and hitting him. He was looking like he was starting to falter, and she wanted to finish him off...

The Abbot glowed with a radiant aura and placed his hands over his heart, “Morninglord... give me the strength to carry out your will...” His graying skin glowed golden, and a few of his wounds seemed to melt away... 

He raised his hands at Strahd, golden energy crackling as a bolt of holy light struck the vampire...

Strahd bared his fangs... no more chances, he didn’t care about the risks. Near delusional with pain, he raised his hands, summoning a wall of fire over the Abbot.

The Abbot tried to breach the wall, his feathered wings burning. He could not pass... 

Strahd willed the wall not to harm his allies... he had the Abbot trapped in the corner... there was no escape for him.

He watched, with no small amount of satisfaction as the creature tried and failed over and over to escape... until all that was left was a skeletal form...

The Abbot cried out, “Damn you! Damn you, Von Zarovich! May the Morninglord take my ash recreate me, so I can exact his vengeance! YOU WILL HAVE RETRIBUTION, VAMPIRE! AND IT WILL BE DIVINE!”

The skeletal form shrieked and then fell to ash... 

Strahd released his spell, and breathed to steady himself and ignore the pain he was in... he shuddered and took knee...

Barely alive.

Ruki ran over to her adoptive father to steady him. He was in very bad shape, his skin charred where the holy energy had hit him, his flesh eaten away in some places... His face gaunt and bestial... parts of his skull showed...

He looked as if he should be dead. 

She held on to him. The best she could do was wait... 

A few seconds passed... and then she could feel his wounds mend beneath her. 

Strahd raised a hand to Ruki, “Thank you...” he took in that small comfort as his body began to repair itself.

Linda jumped from her position and ran over to Strahd, overcome with fear for his well-being, "Are you okay?"

She watched in horrified fascination as the bones in his arm set themselves, sinew and muscle growing and weaving back into place... the skin returning to its pallor, burn marks fading away... 

He seemed like he was getting better, but he still looked worse for wear.

“I’m...“ his voice wavered. He took a moment for his strength to return to him before answering, “I’ll be fine.“

She lightly touched his shoulder that had been hit, before retreating her hand. She shook her head. She didn’t know what had come over her.

Aric rose from his hiding place and rushed over to the pile of ash. He searched through it, panicking, Please don’t be destroyed, please...please.... there! He pulled out the ring... it was still a bit hot, but it only made his hand slightly uncomfortable.

Annulus Qysaris Minor... a spell storing ring. It’s true power wouldn’t reveal itself until he had its partner, Annulus Qysaris Major.

But one more for me is one less for Mehmet. He put it on his hand.

Strahd recovered back to his normal appearance and Ruki let go of him. He worked on mending his clothes and noticed that Mina and Victor were staring at him with odd expressions on their faces...

No use hiding.

 "Great..." Strahd growled and made a flippant gesture, "Yes, I am Strahd.”

He began to answer their unspoken questions in quick succession:

“No, I am not going to drink from you. Yes, I know I'm not the typical vampire. No, I don't want you to treat me any differently. Yes, I understand if you no longer want to continue traveling with me. Yes, I expect you to keep this a secret. Does that about cover everything?"

"If it doesn't,” Linda stood up and turned to them, “ I'd be happy to answer any further questions."

Strahd looked to Linda, baffled at her support.

“Worry not my lord,” Ruki gripped her staff, “I can affix their memories if need be...”

"We'll see if it is necessary..." Strahd looked to Mina and Victor, an edge in his voice, "Is it?"

Mina simply shook her head. But Victor raised his hand, "Just out of curiosity... how does one affix memories?"

Ruki’s eyes flashed, “Oh? A demonstration, is it?”

Victor stammered holding out his hands,  "N-n-n-no! I was just asking theory!"

Ruki looked over to Jeeves. The loyal servant was busy collecting samples of the deva’s bone ash, and separating them into small vials, musing about how useful they could be. She walked over to him and reached out a hand...

Aric stood and warned,  "I wouldn't do that Ruki, could end badly for you."

Ruki did not heed Aric’s warning, and put Jeeves into a daze without his notice. Jeeves paused his collection and stared off, confused.

“What was I doing?“ he muttered.

“That is how, young Master Victor,“ Ruki smiled, satisfied.

Victor scratched his head in confusion.

Aric was less than pleased. He turned to Ruki, “Ruki, undo whatever it is you have done!”

“Fine,“ the mystic tapped her staff on Jeeves’ head.

Jeeves cried out, “Ow, hey!” and rubbed his head, “What the hell?”

"She put some kind of spell on you,” Aric explained, “and could have been nicer about removing it..."

Jeeves glared at Ruki and began to sweep up the deva ashes again, "I don't see why. I was just cleaning up here. Something needs to be clean in this place or I'm gonna go insane!"

“The other method would have taken longer...” Ruki simply replied.

Aric looked to Jeeves and whispered, “You know where she sleeps. Get her back then. Just nothing too extreme. Strahd seems attached to her.”

Strahd walked over to Sergei, who was silently, and numbly sitting at the table, staring at the scorching on the floors and walls. He looked to Strahd’s approach without fear...

Without memory...

Strahd felt something stir within him, but forced himself to remain calm, "I'm going to need you to take care of the creatures in this place. At least until we can get everything sorted out."

"Why me, Lord Strahd?" Sergei blinked up at him. 

Strahd sighed, "Because I don't trust anyone in the village to take kindly to them,” he explained, “Don't let them be seen. Not yet. But at least... unchain these... mongrelfolk. As for you... Vasilka...”

Vasilka cowered in fear at the vampire’s approach. 

Strahd paused, and moved no further, "You also stay out of sight.”

He shook his head in disgust, “Whatever you may have come from is an abominable act, but you are not responsible for your creation. Stay out of sight. Am I understood?"

Vasilka nodded slowly, to show she understood.

Ruki stepped forth, “My lord, if I may suggest... Shall we send her back to Castle Ravenloft under Ludmilla's care?”

Strahd pinched his brow. The last thing he wanted was this mockery of Tatayana in the castle, “I'll have to think on it."

Ruki was firm, “She will remain out of sight if she stays within the castle walls.”

And the castle was very large. He didn’t have to see her if he didn’t want to... he conceded, "Very well. We will arrange for transportation. But in the meantime, we have much larger things to worry about. Such as the defenses of Krezk.”

He turned to the bounty hunter, “Mina, a word with you, what you found at the walls..."

Mina nodded and stepped forth, "Yes, Vasili-I uh mean Strahd- erm... Lord Strahd-"

"The report," Strahd reminded her. He had little patience for this.

Mina grounded herself, "Bad shape. The walls are not holding up near Lake Baratok, and there is a gap where the Abbey overlooks the cliff. If they come in through that way, the town can be overrun very quickly."

Strahd nodded, "Then we need to set up defenses in those areas. Anything will do, even a palisade or pit trap. Something."

Ruki walked back to Aric. She had nearly seen Strahd fall due to holy energy. She didn’t want to see that happen again, and she went to the genasi with her hand outstretched.

It was her duty to protect her adoptive father from things that could subdue him.

“If I may have the symbol back in my possession please...” Ruki looked to him firmly.

Aric tilted his head, confused, “Symbol?"

“The Holy Symbol of Ravenkind,” she patiently clarified.

"Oh, I forgot i still had that..." he reached in his pack and carefully handed it to Ruki, not wanting to upset Strahd further.

Ruki nodded her appreciation, “Thank you Master Aric,” She put the symbol in her pack and walked back to Strahd.

Linda watched Strahd calculate and pace, thinking on different things to do to prepare for the werewolves. She stood, “We don’t wait for the attack.”

Strahd looked to her, tiredly,  "We aren't prepared, Linda...” 

He made a frustrated gesture,  “And from the sound of it, they've had months to prepare... I need to protect my people,” he looked to her, “whether or not they still accept me as their Lord and Protector. Rushing headlong into a den isn't going to solve anything."

Linda folded her arms, conceding, "Fine. But we still need to figure out why they are attacking."

Strahd blinked, realizing he hadn’t told her what he had learned. He held out his hand, "It's because the mate of the former leader of the pack is here. That is who I was talking to. Zuleika Toranescu...”

He folded his cloak around him, “The rest of the town doesn't know that she is here. She still expressed loyalty and gratitude to me, and was kind enough to not out me in public. I did the same for her. She told me that she would meet me by the Shrine at the next available opportunity."

Linda nodded, determined, "Then, let's go. No time to waste."

[boobtubedude]

The Tournament Of The Archomentals: Part 1

As background, which I may spell out later: I started DM’ing a game of Dungeons and Dragons last summer. It was my first time ever playing the game, AND I was running it. I got a few friends who were interested and we all kind of learned as we went. 

We started playing the pre-made intro adventure “Lost Mine Of Phandelver” in June, and segued into the “Curse of Strahd” about two months after that. I led a five-month campaign in which the vampiric Big Bad ended up sneezing to death, because Dungeons and Dragons is a weird game sometimes. This is the third arc, which narratively connects the adventures of four players and everyone they’ve met along the way. It’s my first attempt at a fully original campaign, although it borrows themes and plot points from some familiar pop culture pieces, as well as using some canonical D&D lore. 

At this stage, everyone is a Level 10 character. These are the notes I normally type out to the players, as they literally cannot remember things between biweekly sessions, but thought it might be fun to start posting them for all to read. We had two new players decided to join the game this time around, which is why a tournament celebrating eight gods has six participants. I bet you’d ask because the players asked and were kinda asses about it.

The story picked up right at the end of the last session, with the gnome Garrick hurrying over to your campsite. He noted that he was excited but a little annoyed you guys waited so long to come back. Turns out what felt like a few weeks for you was 10 years in Neverwinter. During that time, your efforts at Wave Echo Cave have essentially turned Neverwinter into a rich, bustling ecosystem. And since then, you have become folk heroes that helped turn this place from Brookyln in the 1980s to Brooklyn now. (Lots of skinny jeans in Neverwinter now.)

Garrick had been holding your place in The Tournament of the Archomentals, which celebrates the 1,000-year anniversary of the defeat of the god Asmodeus. Asmodeus arose thanks to the assassination of Mystra, a goddess in charge of maintaining The Weave. The Weave is like the Force, only for magic, and killing her set off a chain reaction in which reality itself was warped and changed. Asmodeus was a decently powerful wizard before Mystra’s death, but The Spellplague (also known as the “Blue Breath Of Change”) then ensued after Mystra’s assassination turned him into a god-like figure. He turned the lands into hell itself with his empowered Ruby Rod, and was only defeated when the 8 archomentals (beings of supreme power in the earth, air, water, and fire planes of the multiverse) combined for the first time ever to defeat him.

The tournament involves four contests, after each week one of the five remaining teams is eliminated. Each contest celebrates of plane of elemental existence. Garrick’s an organizer, but not an architect, of the arenas in which these contests take place. He’s sort of a coach, but more of a fanboy at heart. (He may or may not have playing cards of the four heroes of Wave Echo Cave.) However, it won’t just be you in the contest: Since the challenges are designed for parties of six, Garrick has two more people that he’s gotten to fight along side you in order to balance out your team’s strengths and weaknesses. In no way did anyone think this was all major foreshadowing for the return of Asmodeus at the end of the tournament, which pleased the DM as he did not have to massively rewrite the narrative he had been planning for a month and a half.

As he takes you into the cathedral in which the tournament’s festivities are arranged, you see Mystra’s symbol above the cathedral door: it’s a red mist rising to the heavens, with seven stars surrounding it. The seven stars represent the seven schools of magic in this universe. 

Inside, you see that Gundren Rockseeker (who gathered you all together on your adventure to find the Lost Mine of Phandelver) is one of the architects, along with three others: 

 Artin Battlehammer (Dwarf): A stout, keenly intelligent creature with an eye towards designing strongholds than looting them with treaure

Theren Amastacia (Elf): Think Cate Blanchett in LOTR, but somehow hotter

Kallista Orianna (Tiefling): about 6’, purple skin, horns that extend out from her eyebrows about 15’’ in a 45 degree angle. A large tail slinks back and forth behind her. She seems to regard you with distrust, whereas the others barely acknowledge your existence

From there, after exchanging pleasantries with Gundren, you met your two other teammates: a half-orc Fighter named Kieran Lonesword and a human Bard named Danfielding. You also meet a halfing named Vivienne, a gruff fashion designer/wizard who allows you all to create your own hero within the world of the Tournament. (In real-world parlance: This is a chance to re-spec your character.) Arzgarth Riffrocker the Paladin stayed the same. Peter Dinklage the Cleric switched his Domain to “Tempest” in order to indulge his inner Thor. Chad The Conqueror switched from Paladin to Warlock, which was badass on all levels. Demora the Rogue did not participate in this, as in real life she was very sick, so everyone established the canonical fiction that she had consumed room-temperature shrimp as her first meal in Neverwinter and was horrifically nauseous. This was not badaass on any level.

Vivienne also gave everyone a pin to help brand this team: a silver pin with the face of the monkey the group adopted in Barovia, Piccolo. Chad was greatly delighted by this development, as he loved Piccolo more than anything in the world. Garrick led you all the antechamber, a long hallway with paintings of the Archomentals on each side. He explained that this first exhibition honored the Earth Archomentals, Ogrémoch (generally eeevvvviiiiil) and Sunnis (generally pleeeeesssaaant). He told you that the fight was based on “Rock, Paper, Scissors,” and to avoid the dome protecting you from the audience that would be watching. Also, he noted that there was audience participation: Above the arena would be a wheel that would spin after everyone had completed a round of combat, in which something fun or terrible might happen.

You walk up to the final painting of the antechamber, and it’s of none other than Asmodeus himself. He’s painted as a twenty-foot figure crushing the hordes of fighters that had assembled to defeat him. In his hands is the Ruby Rod to which Garrick alluded earlier. This painting lifted up to reveal a circular platform inside, and a bright light illuminating it from above. Peter Dinklage kissed the three middle fingers of his left hand and held them up, because he’s a dick.

You all get on the platform, and ride it up. You see you’re in a dome that’s about 30 yards in diameter. On the periphery, two smaller but similar looking trees reside. In the center of it is a huge, beautiful tree. Facing it at forty-five degrees on each side are two stone statues, reminiscent of the Terracotta Army. It’s a beautiful, lush landscape, and your eyes go from that to realizing you’re surrounded on all sides by spectators. You can hear them, but the sounds are muffled due to the invisible dome. Due north in the crowd is a smallish section for the Tournament Architects, and the Wheel stands above them. The options on the wheel read:

Hale and Hearty

SkullCracker

Flight of Fancy

Ring Around The Posey

Amor-All

Broken Mirror

Well of Haste

Electric Slide

The fight begins when the fighters try to use magic to assess the area, which wakes up both the central tree and the stone golems. The tree does a lot of damage when it hurls a boulder at the entire party, forcing Danfielding to heal everyone up quickly. Just when it looks like the initial flurry was over, a dozen ropes descended from the top of the dome, and twelve men looking like Santa’s Elves gone to seed landed with a thud on the ground, wielding large sickles. “We’re the Scissors Gang, here to kick your ass!” the leader declared. Much head shaking was done by all at the DM’s voice for these creatures, but they said nothing, for lo, the DM had bought the pizza that night. Rock (golems), Paper (tree), and Scissors (Bastard Keebler Elves) had finally all assembled.

Combat continued for a few rounds. After the first, the audience wheel landed on Ring Around The Posey, which had the effect of switching all the elements to which these creatures were either vulnerable or immune. That wasn’t too obvious to the heroes, who mostly marveled at the fact that Kieran could seemingly roll nothing but twenties on her first night. The initial batch of Scissors Elves were eliminated fairly handily, as Peter and Danfielding teamed up to essentially roll the elves into the electrified dome like bowling pins, but the group couldn’t make their way to the tree (which had raised up the other two to help attack) nor make much headway with the golems.

Round two started with Flight Of Fancy, which made the entire arena zero-gravity. A new group of Scissor gangmembers floated down like a group of skydivers, which the DM erroneously called “plane jumpers,” because the DM had had a fucking week, so back off. Once again, Peter and Danfield feasted on these creatures, singeing them all with fire. Arzgarth teleported on top of a golem, and struck him down towards the earth. Kieran then curbstomped this sucker to death, and wove the newly-formed floating pebbles into a cape, because apparently half-Orcs have proficiency in Etsy. The DM granted Kieran a point of inspiration, because holy crap, you guys. The audience, on the other hand, threw up in their mouth a little at the violent (albeit creative) display before them.

Meanwhile, Chad decided to use his Warlock abilities to take over the mind of the tree, which it then ordered to hit itself with the boulder over and over again. Not only did the central tree take damage because of this, but so did the other trees. Everyone enjoyed telling the tree to stop hitting itself.

With the combatants earthbound for the next round, the wheel landed on Electric Slide, at which point lighting emerged from the Piccolo pins and singed every player. No one enjoyed that, not even Chad.

Finally, Chad realized he had a Warlock spell that could essentially incinerate plant life, which probably would have helped them out in the first round of combat. Game, set, match, ex-masochistic sentient tree. Garrick ran into the arena, pleased by the results. He noted that they came in second overall in terms of quickest victory, as another team had used that plant spell off the bat, which made things much easier.

Just then, the sky went dark, the wheel started spinning of its own accord, and glowed red from its central point. Just as soon as it started, everything went back to normal. The architects retreated hastily, and a nervous Garrick told the group to rest up for the next event in two weeks’ time.