While teleporting away from one battle, our heroes found themselves in the middle of another. Injured and tired of this bullshit, Garik and Marc “the man who stands on bridges” us resorted to subterfuge and convinced the attacking commander that they were reinforcements to cover their retreat, but only after exploding their ammunition, making a horse kick a guy in the face, and tying a rope to a explosive barrel and a guys leg and firing it at another K. Night Bannermin… exploding them both… also some shit about stopping a team of commandos from disabling the elven artillery.

Will they succeed? Will more hi-jinks ensue? Will Lemway finally wake the fuck up?

FIND OUT THIS TIME ON… FRIENDS AND LEMWAY!!!

On our way to see the wood elves, we encountered a series of strange idols jutting out of the sand. These malformed heads, either the work of some ancient civilization or an art major, marked the way toward civilization. At the last of these there seemed to be a jumble of shambling figures wandering at the edge of a pit. Zombies. Behind them were a group of necromancers – one seemed eerily similar to the thief we had been pursuing from the arena, but there was no time to investigate.

The accursed creature summoned what looked like a giant glowing snot with swords. As the nasty-ass abomination began to take form, the zombies likewise took notice and began to shamble over towards us. The majority fell into the pit or were decimated by Gilda’s Flying Axes of Death, but no amount of swords or arrow strikes could keep the summoner from finishing his work.

The Desert Snot essentially leveled our party. It was the combat equivalent of being sodomized with a piece of desert shale.

So Garik threw the dice, and we are off toward some known realm. It’s a blessing, really, what with the fact that we ran out of water three days ago and yet are completely fine, or that we seem to be getting distracted by every stick and rock we seem to come across.

Although…if we end up smack in the middle of the Hraken Empire, I may just find a use for that piece of desert shale in my pocket.

As our mediocre to slightly possibly brave heroes made their way to the wood elves, they encountered some of those Bitch ass MoFos that may have stolen their reward in the arena, and amiss the battle, Garik was forced to roll the magic transporter dice things to avoid certain death.

Where will the end up? Will they ever find the wood elves? Will they finally get their shit together and stop dicking around and arguing about items that Lemway “borrowed” and should totally give back to Garik?

FIND OUT THIS TIME ON, FRIENDS AND LEMWAAAAAY!!!!!

After our heroes victories in the waists, they eagerly awaited their prizes only to find out that they had been robed. weary and tired of this grade a bull shit, we find our heroes continuing their noble quest to find the elves or some shit… at this point a barely remember.

WHAT WILL HAPPEN THIS TIME ON, FRIENDS AND LEMWAY!!!!

We are so weary. Our bones feel dry and brittle as the sand scrabbling amongst our boots. Poison courses through our veins, wounds dry black with the sting of daggers and the overhead sun. We drag ourselves from the arena once more, ultimately victorious, but too tired to even enjoy the gold which weights down our palms.

Merileth came slithering at us from the depths of a plane unknown. We were bombarded, each in turn, with a flurry of daggers and blades from her four hands and snakelike tail, while she cast spells with her remaining two hands. jewels fell from her scales as she darted between us, stabbing and snapping and gripping and poisoning, her movements too fast to block and her hide too tough to pierce. It was dazzling and terrifying at the same time. She wore us down to the very brink. As we were shambling back, all three of us away from her, covered in slashes, bruises, and greenish poison; we began to fight back with a renewed intensity. We refused to let it end here in this crumbled pit of an arena. Our swords, axes, daggers, and arrows hit home. Just as quickly as she would have finished us, we ended her right there and then.

And we may or may not have started to loot in a massive frenzy once her bedazzled rump hit the ground, but hey. Nothing says “I’m thankful to live another day on this beautiful earth” like fighting off your teammates for jewels in the sand.

At any rate, we hope to heal and rest one more night before setting off to find the wood elves. If I can sleep with Fermitti’s accursed eyes boring into my soul. (Not the one in the box. The figurative soul. Though if he ends up stealing said my soul-in-a-box it would be rightfully ironic.)

My eyes are weak. My body is exhausted. I cannot stay awake any longer. I shall retire to bed, and may the little squeaker do what he will with my soul.

Victory in the wastes! our heroes collect their rewards After slaying the Whorific Six-Armed She-beast in the arena. Barely fazed as the blood-lust slowly fades, our heroes plan where to go next and debate weather or not to tell Fermmidy that he’s a creepy little bastard.

FIND OUT WHAT HAPPENS NEXT, THIS TIME ON… FRIENDS AND LEMWAY!!!!!!!!

We are once again victorious – but really, is anyone surprised – having won the second fight in the Wasteland Championship or Something of That Ilk. We entered the stadium bashing our weapons together, badassery flowing through our veins. Unfortunately, two minotaurs, a Medusa-spawn, and three spear-wielding monks had already descended from the steps near the Velucian podium and zeroed in on us with bloodlust in their eyes.

Faster than one could say, “Oh, fecal matter,” they were upon us. Garik, Gilda, and Junior ran to meet them head on. They clashed with the minotaurs in a flurry of spark and steel, axes and swords bashing together in a deadly storm. I sprinted for the nearest column and climbed the vines to the top.

The minotaurs’ greataxes were devastating. They swung hard and heavy, our dodges hindered by the flying points of the monk’s spears. The snake-woman dodged in between the pillars on the other end of the arena, letting arrows fly at Marcas and I. I screamed down to Marcas, “The bridge! Flank them!!!”

He drew his sword and charged out onto the bridge with a bloodthirsty battle cry. Unfortunately, a gust of desert wind then blew across the stadium. The bridge rocked and Marcas fell flat on the ground.

“Spirits help us,” I muttered. I rolled my eyes and struck the tips of my flame arrows against the column. Moments later, they were flying into the chaos of flying dust and steel. The minotaurs’ fur ignited, sending them reeling back from shock in the already-sweltering desert heat. Behind them, Junior leapt up onto the arena’s edge and brought his dragon bastard sword down with an almighty swing. The strikes hit home, driving the beasts back toward Gilda, who struck out in a frenzy of furious swings with Narwen and her axes. As they turned their backs, Garik hammered them with even further strikes. We had them cornered!

Meanwhile, Marcas tried to get up again and fell.

Medusa and the monks ran for the melee. They were fools to try. Nothing could save their group now. The minotaurs fell in a plume of thick smoke, out of which our warriors burst with their weapons brandished. I pelted the enemies with covering fire as they entered my sights and ran around the corner towards our warriors.

Then the ground shook. An almighty roar sounded from within the deepest bellows of the earth. The very dust shifted on the ground, forming curlicue patterns on the worn tile and making the very pebbles rattle against the quieted stands. The monks froze. The snake woman backed up toward the Velucian podium, black eyes roving the stadium suspiciously. Our warriors stopped in their tracks, weapons still raised high to meet the impending threat. All that could be heard was Marcas’ silent cursing as he struggled to right himself on the rocking bridge.

A purple worm burst from the ground beneath the stadium. The crowds shook the air with their screams as the gigantic monster reared a huge, ugly head filled with teeth. Just as the roaring reached a zenith, we all watched as an axe curved through the air to lodge in the monster’s side. Gilda was the first to charge forward. She dodged the worm’s clumsy attacks, sliding a fire opal down its’ throat as she slid by. Junior and I covered her charge, laying down fire against the remaining fighters. Garik ran forward to grapple with the snake woman. Marcas was still laying on the bridge, somehow managing to simultaneously roll and wave his sword while on his back. It was all very impressive, really.

The monks fell in short order. One escaped my notice and scaled my perch, forcing me to trade swing for swing as we dodged each other’s attacks. Our fighter heard the Medusa-spawn begin to breathe her last breaths and turned their attention to the worm. We would have ALL the glory today, or none. Gilda threw fire opal after fire opal, watching with glee as fire creatures hatched inside the bewildered worm. Junior flung arrows at the worm and the remaining monk in turn. Garik cradled the dying fighter in his arms. I could see a bottle of healing potion in his hands – I swear to the androgynous elven spirits that that man was not given the spirit of a ruthless battler but the build of one, and is therefore proof that the planes have a sense of humor.

The worm tried to escape, meeting only steel and arrows each time. I barely leapt to the ground and scrambled away before it burst out of a hole next to my perch. But eventually, it retreated back into its’ lair with barely a heartbeat in its’ body, fire creatures still clawing out of its’ hideous maw. The arena lay deserted. Marcas had finally crawled off of the bridge, his face white and his heart palpitating with the thrill of his adventure. Gilda and Junior walked away with large, deep gashes and even deeper victory cries. The Velucians rewarded us well with much glory and many riches, including the company of the snake woman who Garik revived and has now claimed as a liege. We have tasted the wine of gold and glory, having triumphed all but the largest opponent in the Wastes. The battle will only last for tonight…it CAN only last for tonight…and the crowd is calling for more. I think we are actually going to see this insanity through to the end. Some of us are on the brink of death and we all know it – I can only hope that our bloodlust will lead us not to the end, but to more greatness and the horizon of the Hraken empire.

We watched as our intrepid heroes and Lemway fight in the wretched battle arena, barely making it out with their lives. With the help of Shesha, who sworn her allegiance to Garik for sparing her life in the previous battle, our heroes must gather their strength for the final, and most treacherous arena battle to date. will our heroes vanquish their foul opponent, or will their gallant journey be cut short and end in a puddle of blood?

FIND OUT ON THIS EXCITING EPISODE OF, FRIENDS AND LEMWAY!

[Chi’aira’s Journal]
Our trek through the desert continued. Led by Coco and Whiskers, or whatever the hell they call themselves , we eventually came to a giant shoe settled among the endless dunes. I sniffed our water supply.

Should’ve checked for drugs.

On the other hand, the shoe was quite fabulous, so we knocked on the door and were greeted by a regal-looking mouse. We hoped this was not a drug induced hallucination, as the mouse seemed to know everything about getting out if the wastes. The fire crystals that Gilda had in her possession – oh yes, from smacking fire eggs that also spawned daemons when Garik decided to be a greedy ass – were the means to finding the water supply that would see us out safely. But even that was not enough… we needed the location of all the water deposits or we would die trying to cross. However, the only way to get those would be to look into a Velucian crystal ball. We had three choices: storm a Velucian stronghold, cross over into their capital on another plane, or use the one in the middle of the Arena of the Wastes. Deciding that the third option was the least batshit insane, we then set off with Cuckoo, Nibbles, and Fabulous Shoe Mouse on a quest for mystical balls.

In short, we placed bets like people possessed, despite having less than solid confidence in the ability of our tank to kill the opponents as opposed to befriending a cat. I trusted that, whatever the outcome, Gilda and her flaming amazeballs sword would be enough to conquer our opponents. I perched atop the stadium walls, ready to help them fight out of the arena if the Velucians noticed Garik clearly using their crystal ball for purposes of sneakiness and whatnot.

Garik tossed me his mystical Turner box and said, "Keep this safe until I return. "

I hid it in my cloak. Looking up, I saw Lenwe watching from across the arena. He signaled with a flick of his hand: If it comes to death… roll the dice.

This turned out to be unnecessary, as we ended up winning in a glorious show of badassery. Gilda snapped the dune witch’s neck over her knee, and Garik punched a massive paladin down a chasm with his Badass Fist Gauntlets.

Tomorrow we all fight in a grand royale, having what we need but demanding riches, glory, and fame to carry us through the next leg of our journey.

Garik’s Log™

The mice led us to a giant shoe where the Grand Poobah of the the mice lived, where he told us about a crystal ball that would help us get out of this God forsaken sand hole. He told us were it was and what we had to do. Afterwards he thought me how to use it. When we got to the arena, some of us may have placed some bets in the wrong place, and maybe said place GTFOT when the battle was over. To make it short, I punched a TANK of a man into a Pit of Doom™ and Guilda jumped off his shield and attacked the Bitch Faced™ mage behind him… Guilda killed her by snapping her neck on her leg.

Anyway, we got paid, we’re fighting in the death match tomorrow, and Guilda and I are the Champions of the Wastes™. Oh and I now find that I have an unquenchable blood lust…™… YAAAAY!