Scene 1: Buying, Trading, and Celling

Drowmande: Watch, as our latest attractions awake in darkness with cramped muscles and pulsating bruises.

Rhomande: We’ve already done this a bajillion times!  Tell you what… I’ll just do a quick recap, and we can skip over the whole bit with escaping the cells.

Drowmande: Well, that’s not how I usually roll, but in the interest of time, go ahead, Rheumy Andy.

Rhomande: It’s. Rhomande.  And these are the adventures of my Insufferable Basterds!  When last we stood before my adoring audience, Vragul and the dread Yfirma∂r had just be joined in unholy matrimony by Father Maldreth.  Somehow, my Deep Elf counterpart here…

Drowmande: Hello, my coves and cozies!  Are you enjoying tonight’s spectacle?

Rhomande: As. I. Was. Saying.  Somehow, this filthy, can’t-possibly-be-more-charismatic-than-I, Drow and his as-yet unrevealed master had constructed the wedding scenario as some sort of contest or trial in their never-ending parade of nonsense.  And then they further complicated matters by flipping an unborn baby right-side up and inducing Yfirma∂r to give birth.

Drowmande: Actually, that wasn’t us.  We’re good, but not that good.  It was just a happy coincidence that we got to witness my ninth favorite “contestants” try to save a half-orc woman and child from a breach birth.

Rhomande: Well, that’s a tiny relief, at least.  In either case, everybody was stitched up and sealed with magical healing, when our resident Trixie Pixie made a Spot Check.