Who doesn't want to roll a bucket of d6?

Investimagations continued. Baradhi and Jayson went to a pub so that Baradhi could appear to be asleep, when he in actual fact was in astral form looking at Rita the Major Babe's shop with Jayson standing sitting guard. There were three large smoke pillars - solid on the astral plane - that took up most of the room.

Meanwhile, the other three were back at base, with Booker still in charge. Because the other two didn't check back in, Gorbash was dispatched to make sure they weren't in trouble.

They weren't. They just hadn't checked in. The three kept looking around a bit more, and talked to a shopkeeper.

And then they didn't check in on a very good line, so Drake was dispatched. Booker stayed back at the base ... having a coffee ... very slowly ...

And then a lot of Rakshasa came for the rest of the party, from every direction ...

So. Anyone for Rakshasa mince?

Let’s not use blowing stuff up as a way to get upstairs

Still dungeon crawling our way through the Devil's Tower, we managed to make our way to the cave containing a way upstairs. Soon after that, we found the next staircase we wanted to go up ... but we also found a hidden door, and what do roleplayers to when they find a locked door? They try to break it down. Slick didn't manage it and Sam's new alien super-claw broke the locking mechanism so Mary couldn't pick the lock, so we had the brilliant idea to let Reynard blow the door off its hinges.

The roof caved in, blocking our way to the staircase. Oh, what a surprise.

So instead, we had to take the long way around (fortunately, Gunney's pace has improved - this whole Armageddon-preventing trip must be rejuvenating), being chased by an acidic, black blob that causes temporary paralysis and which doesn't even taste very good. Unlike the bug-like creatures who attacked us in our sleep, who, when cooked, taste a bit like chicken. With Slick in the party, a whole new world of culinary delights have really opened up for us. This week, he surprised us all by actually managing to make cheese and cucumber sandwiches WITHOUT people in them!

Also, there's a new word on the block: scrota, a portmanteau of "scrotum quota". Best not to ask, eh?