The Gaming Den

At Archimedes, "Damn it, you really need to figure out how to work that thing. Well, at least the snails are gone, and... shit..."

Orr tries to his best to ignore his pain and rushes towards his dog.

At Thrull, "Thanks. Alright, let's see if we can stabilize Malogos and then get out of here as fast as we can. Doesn't look like we have much time."

Orr attempts to aid Archimedes in stabilizing Malogos (Heal +4).

The dog staggers to his feet, hair already growing back as the blackened chunks of skin fall off, tail wagging. Thrull rushes over to Malagos and presses his paws against his forehead.

"I would say I've seen worse," the rat comments wryly, "but the last patient that looked like this, I just turned them into a zombie. Took their family three weeks to figure out..."

Slowly, the blackened skin begins to crumble and flake off, revealing healthy tissue underneath. Malagos still looks not great (0 hp), but can be moved.

Drowning-Squid bursts in from one of the unstable walls, dripping with yellow squid ichor. "Must move quickly." she gasps.

At the dog, "Just hold on for a bit longer. We'll get you fixed up proper once we're out of here."

Orr nods. "Right then, grab Malogos and let's get moving."

On it. Let's get out of this damned place, Archimedes says, picking up Malagos' unconscious body. He gets ready to head to the exit with all the speed his body can manage.

Archimedes, Malagos, and the dog (who is carrying Thrull and the remainder of the rats) run for the exit. Drowning-Squid sprints ahead and parts the water, lifting it up like a trap door. Behind Archimedes, he can hear the roar as the water walls finally collapse...

The much-smaller party finally emerges onto the riverbank, blinking in the bright glare of the sun - a sun they have not seen for what feels like weeks or months.

The brown water of the river ripples, and then a slender head and shoulders emerges. The body is almost human in its contours, though strangely androgynous, and their head is covered by a mask of gold and bone in the shape of a seashell crowning a reptilian skull. Strange opalescent eyes can be glimpsed within the dark hollows the of the skull-mask's eye sockets. With four-fingered, webbed hands, the figure makes several strange gestures, then appears to wait for a response.

At the masked figure, telepathically, "Sorry, didn't quite catch that."

Greetings, in the name of Those-Who-Change-Scales, the thoughts stream out to all of you present, not only those with a natural telepathy, and the figure continues to gesture as it speaks. I am the Third Hierophant of the Fallen Tail, under the Shade of the World-Turtle. We have eagerly awaited your return to fulfill the Rite of Consumation.

You are suddenly aware of the dragon-turtle - and several hundred figures, all in a variety of finery and dress, emerging from the brown waters of the river.

Bring forth the Sacred Ointment, so that we may... the figure looks around Malagos for a moment. ...is that a rat? Is that Thrull? Did you people seriously let Thrull out?

Hey, I helped. The rat says, gathering what's left of his followers about him.

You...is this true? You had help from the rat?

Help us? Couldn't have done it without him, Archimedes says. He's practically one of us now. Can't help but imagine his role in our success more than makes up for whatever he was put away for. Anyways, here's your ointment, he adds, taking out the flask.

Dark Mother of Scales preserve us...fine, whatever. The figure presses its hand against it's face-mask and closes its opalescent eyes for a moment. Right, the Sacred Ointment. They take the flask, and pass it on to a smaller figure, whose scales are still smooth and shiny with youth, who runs with it towards the rest of the group.

THANKS BRO the dragon turtle mumbles. The whole party begins moving up-river at a leisurely pace. One of the group - who bears a familiar yellow mask - turns back for a moment and sketches a salute, before following the rest of the wedding-party, leaving only the figure you've been talking to.

"Now," says Thrull. "The consummation shall take place, in the ancient mating grounds of their ancestors." The rat shudders.

By by the laws of the Fallen Tail, you shall have a tenth part of the dowry of the Dragon-Turtle, nine questions from the Oracle of Those-Who-Change-Scales, and the right to shed your scales in the world after this world. They say. Clapping their four-fingered palms, a group of brutish, muscle-bound lizard-men dressed in painted loincloths emerge from western swamp, carrying large canoes and great earthen pots that shimmer with golden treasure.

When they reach the shore, they begin to pile it in front of you. They are heaping baskets of rectangular gold coins marked with queer hieroglyphics, and pearls in a range of colors from turquoise to black, torcs of silver and adamant, and curiously-worked rings of jade looped together with gold wire. Wealth enough to buy a duchy, in the old lands...

Wealth and glory are yours, after the many trials in the Fire Swamp...and you know you have only begun to touch on its mysteries. Off shore, you can see the shadow of The Black Crusade, waiting to hear word of your adventures. Deeper within the swamp, you see the gleam of a pyramid temple, one of the many places you did not have a chance to explore. But as you run your fingers through the wealth, you know that this adventure at least is at

The End