A year stolen by the Elysian Inn, raining oil-fire over Hawk Tuah, and somehow the party walks away with a bottomless beer mug, a dragon-blessed pantry, and a sack of wagon scrap for Tim’s next bad idea. Their report to the Gem and Metallic courts earns them a new job and a deed to a tiny riverside bastion that might someday be home—or a tomb. Between a too-smooth “I can get anything” broker, a town crier screaming about skyscraper-sized kuo-toa, and a village peacefully ruled by undead, the line between diplomacy and preemptive smiting is getting very, very thin.

Music: Neverwinter - Neverdeath Graveyard Background by Supernova Collective https://supernovacollective.bandcamp.com

Licensed under Scrybe Quill Context License

https://www.scrybequill.com/license

The stream cut out again even after dropping to 1080p, so Tech Diaries covers Wi-Fi finally betraying me and the plan to hard-wire the house before it happens again. In game, the party woke in a drained, starless nowhere, met Grashka and her radiant sword Mildred, and killed a nightmare creature that left behind a single purple key. For the DM Deep Dive, I break down two rulings on old spell-point memories and a Vortex Warp vs “swallowed whole” moment, and how to keep trust when your description and the stat block don’t quite match.

The Elysian Inn finally showed its teeth. As Bellamy, Kolut, Tim, and the rest tugged at the seams—guest ledgers that spanned centuries, blood-refilling relics, and offers to “grow old” without ever leaving—they made their call: slam the automa-cart into the front door and pray. It worked… mostly. They burst back into daylight to find a year missing, the war grinding on without them, and no sign yet of the stolen chalice that might decide the next move in the dragons’ game.

There’s no time to mourn lost months. The town square erupts into chaos as goblins turn a packed theater into a killing floor—children strung up as leverage, archers on the rails, a warg-rider king laughing under a sky that starts raining fire. Planet crew and Plight crew hit the aisles together: fog to blind the archers, thunder to clear the balconies, steel and radiant fury to drag hostages out of the blaze. By dawn, streets are scorched, a crowned goblin has slipped away, and both parties are riding toward the capital with smoke at their backs, a missing artifact on their conscience, and a very personal score to settle.

Music: Sigil - The Sanctum (Echoes of the Multiverse) by Supernova Collective https://supernovacollective.bandcamp.com

Licensed under Scrybe Quill Context License

https://www.scrybequill.com/license