Uh can I train? I show the Tree-Gnome to Gretin and Shetin. Maybe they can help the guy. Uh can I train? Special like.
  His Bark Is Worse Than His Bite
Marivhon, you describe the gnome, and eventually someone says that although they haven't seen anybody who looks like that, they were out cutting wood and saw a tree with a perfect little gnome's face in the bark, just like that, key and all. They tell you where it is.

You head out of town a bit and sure enough, find a tree. The gnome's face is clearly evident as a 3D pattern in the bark, and his mouth and eyes are twisted in pain.

A cold wind blows through you.
Uh I don't think I have any extra cash. I would like to train though. I want to also ask around town if anyone has seen a small gnome and I describe the gnome we pushed though the door. I wonder if he ended up here. Maybe this is the weird plane where the gods fight....
"Hey can anyone lend me some special training money?"

"Don't we have to take care of this book thing before we can train and stuff?"
  Dave, Fist of Odin
I too buy the special training. Seventh level! WooHoo!

My special training, I imagine, involves drinking heavily and rasslin'. You know, spreading the word of Odin, or something like it. Odin's word involves things like 'hey barkeep - a round for the house on me', and 'hey you - yeah, you, motherfucker, I just bought you a drink and now you're looking at me? I think it's go time!'

Plus, some bears.
I buy a new lock and put it on the door.
I find some dude to train with.
  Probably Against The Building Code
The lock comes off, the door opens to a void.

You remember nothing about Vrill going anywhere, nor about becoming un-undead, which you seem to be. Still flesh and blood half-elf.


"Hey, where Marivhon at?" inquires Gregolas. "I got some killer endo. 'I do not sniff de coke, I only smoke-'" he sings, pausing to look at you all.

"'Sensimilla,'" G whistles the song while he continues to play his game, which seems to involve turning civilization into one giant homogenous blob. "Fuckin Mr. Wiggles!" he curses at the screen, when a little gremlin... no, it looks sort of like Jesus Christ... floats across the screen restoring some of civilization back. You doubt Ron would approve of this new game.
  Descent into Depths!
Uh i was hoping to remember something about where vrill ended up. Open Locks 20 made it. I check the place out. I also wanted to know if I'm undead still. If now do I remember why not, or more precisely HOW not.
Pinched. Everything seems pretty cool. Grito has not yet been destroyed by the Knights of Armek, the Monks of Progress, or the Undead Legions. Ronald and Gregolas are chilling at SO.

"Hey there dude-ios," intones Gregolas, without looking at you. He's intent on playing some game on an insanely huge TV. Looks like the goal is to... uh... drip colors of paint across a cartoon city? "Long time no see and all. Hey, you guys didn't swing by the chip shop before coming back to Casa Grande, didja? Fuckin' brilliant chip shop in town now. It's called 'Thee Chips Are Down', which is a fuckin' sweet ass name. It's perfect."

Master Apprentice Steve seems to still be running Ye Potione Guilde. "Uh hey there guys. If you wanna buy some potions that's cool. I bet you guys need some healing potions and stuff, huh? Uh, did you guys have some good adventures? Yeah, I bet, that's pretty cool." Steve seems to miss his 'adventuring days'.


Okay Marivhon, you Hide In Shadows somewhere in Grito, and no one really seems to notice, or care. You still have your Hello Airport Guidebook, page still dog-earred where Vrill was excited about some legendary artifacts.

Memory tonic taken... that's a headrush right there. You're pretty sure that there aren't any details you're missing. You were in Terminal Z, went through the door, and now here you are in Grito. Well, maybe the only detail you're missing is just where exactly the door was that you came through. IQ check made, okay, you remember where it is. You sneak into an alley and head towards the trash in the back. A stout door is at the end, locked with a rusty padlock. You're pretty sure that's the door... looks like no one's used it in a long time.
uh I sort of hang around. Move silent, hide in shadows.

BR 34 and 55. made and missed.

I look in my satchel for my Hello guidebook. I take some memory tonic and meditate and try to remember the details I assume I'm missing.
BR 7 which is half my int and misses wis check by 2 cause I'm a genius.
I pinch myself, reeally hard.

Is everything cool? Is Ronald around?

No Vrill? Hmm...

How is Grito doing? Are the Grisbanics still hanging about? What about the walking dead?

Let's head over to the Potion Guild and see who is in charge.
  Lookin' Good
Vrill's nowhere to be seen. And nope, you're not skeletons. You guys look fine.
I keep my eyes on Vrill. Do we all look like skeletons again?
  The Conclusion Of D2: Hello Airport
Okay, you push the gnome through the door, slam it shut, and count to ten.

Everyone stands around awkwardly for a second. "Alright, screw it. Let's just get this over with," sez Vrill. Door open, void revealed, in you go.


Well, the terminal must've been right there, because after a moment or two of blindness and disorientation, you're back in Grito! You head back over to Shady Orchards for some much needed R&R. Great job weathering the underworld, everyone, 10,000 xp apiece. That levels each of you. Thanks for adventuring through D2: Hello, Airport! Stay tuned for D3...
  Dave, Fist of Odin
BR: 2. I believe that makes it - my STR is 15.

Hey - remind me on opposed checks here. It's been awhile. If I'm making a ST check, I roll a d20, and try to get under my ST - right? So an opposed check is . . . my ST minus his ST? The difference between my roll and my ST and his?

And I apologize to the doorkeeper. No hard feelings! Hope the god world works out okay for you - and beware of juggernauts! I hear they'll take off your arm.

Now what? Don't we go through there too?

Just for the record, I hate being dead. Let's do this thing, whatever it is.
Strength check eh? 10 I made it.
  Day ?: Sport You That One
At this point, I sorta hate punishing peeps for posting, so that 20? Don' worry about it.
Well, that's interesting.

Kind of mean, though...

I'll help Cinder with the gnomes' arm. BR:20. Hmm, bad timing for that.
  Day ?: A Surprising Turn Of Events
Hmm, okay. Not what I expected. But those are some pretty good rolls.

You quickly jimmy open the magical lock, grab the padlock, and swing open the door, revealing... a void. In classic Ed fashion, later in the same round, you kick over the stool, knocking the gnome to his knees, and shove him through the door.

However, right as you slam it shut, the gnome's arm arcs out and prevents the door from being closed further. The arm seems pretty darn strong. Begin to make opposed STR checks.
Cinder off to the side kinda ducks into the shadows. BR:15.
Then he steps up to that there lock and begins to pick after searching for traps. Remember, thieves can disarm magical traps in d&d. Don't cheese me here.
BR:51 and 11. That 51 makes it with dex modifiers. What happens?

If this shit actually works, my plan is to open the door while hidden, and shove the gnome through to the other side and shut it real frickin quick. Pretty ambitious, I know, but Cinder is going big here.

here's some dex checks if it comes to it:
6, 17, 2
and strength too:
9, 5, 9 huh. Made those.
  Day ?: Life's A Bitch
By the way, nice work everyone, posting like that, getting on the ship and all. D2 nearing completion, it looks like, innit?

Anyway, the gnome cracks his knuckles and takes a second before answering. "Well, listen, lemme just tell you straight. What's going on in that door behind me? It's a holy war. Er, maybe not so... holy, but it's definitely a war between gods. We are in the underworld after all. Now I don't know who's on what side and all, but I'll just say this. It's not like gods fight by lining up all their tin soldiers, everyone rolls to hit and all that. Gods create and destroy reality. So I'm tellling you that you can't come in, mainly for your own safety. If I kill you here, you don't die, you just drop your stuff, I donate it to the temple, and you wind up back in the terminal you started in. You go in there? You could end up uncreated. Or altered in some bizarre way. Maybe your arm just happened to be where Mr. or Mrs. Big wanted to put a juggernaut, now guess what, you're part of the juggernaut, rolling around with your arm stuck in the damn thing, because your arm is the damn thing. Okay?"

"But you seem awfully particular about getting in there. So here's the deal. The only people I let in have direct permission from the gods. Or at least, one of the gods. How do I know if you have permission? I don't know, but I just know. It's easiest if you're a god yourself, and sorry, none of you fit the bill."

Ron pipes up happily. "But my god Jesus is in all of us... he IS all of us! I am JESUS!"

The gnome blinks. "Uh... riiight. Anyway, some of the others I've let in have been either footmen, attendants, or raw fodder for the stuff of creation. I'll tell you this, too. No one's who's ever gone through that door has come out. Actually, no one or no thing has ever come out, at all. So, whatever. It's fine if you wanna stand here and chat, I guess. I mean, you see what my day's usually like. By the way, the temple?" He points to the huge iron cathedral of Zelba behind you. "As you can see, that's off limits too. And ol' Frank, he's not as chatty as I am. Step onto the walkway, expect a nice little fight there. Yeah, it's been like that for a while now, ever since I got on the job. Something... something's happened with Ms. Z, I think. Or to her." He's talking in lower tones now. "Really, I dunno what, just a feeling. But it used to be, I guess, that lichs from other planes, Drow lords, those kind of guys, they'd come here on pilgrimages and such. No more, place is just closed. But last time I let someone in, they went in there, and got what it takes. Of course, the last time I let someone in, it was a skeletal ooze. Ooze made of skulls, sort of."

The gnome sits back up on the stool, and yawns. "Yeah, it ain't laughs a minute here, but it pays the bills."

Vrill shakes his head. "Wait a minute guys. You gonna believe everything this rent-a-cop tells you? You have to be a GOD to get in? Give me a break. We're on a 5th level adventure. Look, just because an NPC says some shit doesn't mean you have to buy it. And don't buy into the whole 'oh he's unarmed and unarmored and looks pretty plain, that must mean he's a badass!' thing. Oldest trick in the DM book. Don't believe the gnome hype."
  Dave, Fist of Odin

Greg, I certainly have proven myself a man of action. I mean, I'm the fucking FIST of Odin here - no stranger to the clobbering.

But first off, if I'm going to clobber someone, I just do it. I don't say 'Hey there, I think I might be about to clobber you. Are you ready? Do you need a moment?'

And secondly, being dead has given me a certain amount of perspective. Sometimes, a little talking can avoid the other person getting hurt. Which doesn't make any difference to me one way or the other, really, but if they run, then I have to chase, and I'm wearing a fucking suit of plate mail, here.

Being dead has made me tired, dig?

So hey there - gatekeeper. I'm Dave, the Fist of Odin. How's your day? Here's the scoop. We've got to get through that door, so we're going through that door, and there's bad mojo and things we have to fix beyond it. Sure, you look like a man of action - or at least, resignation - so what I'm asking, is what'll it take to get through there? We're kind of on a timeline here, and I'd rather get this taken care of here and now. You overheard what I said just now? About being tired? Yeah. Being dead's a bitch, ain't it?

[and just an aside - if shit ends up going down - first I bring in a bear, then I begin clobbering. I might have some lag.]
  Day ?: Vrill Is A Bitch
"Oh, right, heh heh, sorry about that. Forgot that's your book there. I mean, I seem to be the one reading it and using it all the time, it's understandable. And for the last frickin' time, I'm not your father. Not at all. You can read all about it on my web blog. Or do you want a frickin' paternity test? And the management? Are you crazy? I guess you must be if you still think I'm, you know, goddamn related to you. It's one frickin' gnome for Christ's sake." Ron frowns. "It's, what, seven to one? Didn't you guys just kill a goddamn death knight? We can take this guy. Dave, just make him walk Spanish while I cut the key off his neck. We don't even have to kill the guy."

Ron disagrees. "Well, I'm not necessarily advocating communion with other deities. But I'm certainly against killing this fellow, who's just doing his job. He seems like an upright, god fearing chap."

Vrill's turn to frown. "You're just... you always do this. It's not like you voted one way or another, you just voted to nullify my vote. No offense Ron, but you might look into worshipping a god of action like Odin over there. I bet I know how Dave's voting, don't I?" Vrill claps you on the back and re-readies his spell components.
First off I calmly walk up to Vrill and take his backpack and then I put the Guidebook back in my pack. I didn't know he even had access to my stuff, but I guess Cinder must have given it to him or something.

"Try the stealing thing again Vrill and I'll get all old testemant on yer ass. I don't give a shit if you are my dad."

I vote we talk to management.
  Day ?: The Guardian Of Terminal B
Ron looks up at you from where he's sitting cross-legged. "Oh yeah, you know, that makes a lot of sense. Hey Greg, what do you think of that plan?"

"Look, no offense, Mr. Big Magic Player, but really, who's the magic-user here? I am, that's who. And I'll have you know that I've played lots of Magic in my day. I got into the game during Arabian Nights, that's how long I've been playing. I have an original City in a Bottle, and I had a Black Mox until I was forced to re-ante with some gay little cheese card some twelve year old brat snuck into a tournament. I was in the process of building an all-black-border beta set when I met my untimely demise. So I think I know a thing or two about how to play Magic."

"Hey Cinder," says Ron, "if you have any more tips, just let me know."

Vrill sighs and heads back over to the other corner, grumbling. "Can we just get out of here now?"

Everyone on board, the boatman pushes off and rows across the lake. The game of Magic concludes one way or another.


You travel for what must be a few more hours. Vrill says "We're sort of pushing the timing here. We probably won't be able to rest, or if anything, just once to regain spells, depending on how long it takes to find the exit terminal in Terminal B."

You walk through the gloom of L2, following underground passageways until you get to Terminal Z. It seems you're mostly underground in L2, under a huge forest. You certainly see large roots pushing through the dirt ceiling above, and large worms writhing in the soil walls. It's sort of unnerving, but again, you're dead, so what do you care?

Finally, you come into what seems to be a large root cellar. A rickety wooden staircase heads up, and you exit into a dank, barren cabin on the outskirts of a massive overgrown forest. You leave, and see a trail heading towards a massive, impossibly high brick wall. The other direction heads into the forest, and as you look around, you realize this forest also is impossibly large.

Vrill reads from the guidebook. "'L2 is the infamous Graveyard of the Titans, a massive prehistoric woodlands where ancient dinosaurs clash with huge colossi.' Clash of the Titans, heh heh. It's a good thing we didn't have to... hmm, wait a sec... 'The Graveyard is rumored to be the location of several legendary artifacts forged by the titan gods, including the mystic Orb of Teeth and the Hundred-Bladed Sword.' Oh my." Vrill dog-ears the page in the guidebook and puts it in his pack.

The trail leads up to the brick wall, and ends in a little, human-sized door. In you go.


It's brilliant, with a blinding white light giving way to complete darkness. After a while, the blindness wears off, and you realize you're standing at the entrance to terminal Z. Terminal Z, like the robot graveyard, seems to be one massive citadel, surrounded by a circular bridge suspended in absolute space, although there's no outer sphere as in the robot's land. And unlike the robot realm, terminal Z is not all shiny and new. On the contrary, the place is gloomy and decrepit, and the inner citadel appears to be a massive black iron cathedral.

"The Cathedral of Zelba. Let's not go in there," says Vrill.

"Jesus will..." starts Ron, but Vrill cuts him off. "Don't start," says Vrill curtly. "Look, no offense to Je- to your big ol' god, but we're in Zelba's domain here. So don't fuck around with other gods."

There's a decaying iron bridge encircling the cathedral, over gaping empty space. You proceed around the cathedral, passing right by the front. A huge metal barricade blocks off the stairs leading up to the front doors, and an enormous chain and padlock holds the doors shut. Leering at the top of the stairs in front of the doors is what seems to be a giant skeletal gargoyle, easily 20 feet tall and 10 feet squat. It's motionless, but watches you with large eyes as you calmly pass down the metal bridge, heading towards another portal on the far side of the terminal... the exit to your final destination, the legendary Terminal B.


It's a simple wooden door, the kind you might find leading to your inn room or into a 10'x10' room in your standard dungeon. It's suspended in space at the end of the thin, rusted metal bridge. The door has an average looking padlock on it, with an exceptionally large keyhole.

Seated on a tall wooden stool next to the door is a gnome. Around his neck on a chain is a large key, most likely which opens the door to the terminal beyond. There's a sign letting you know you're on the right track:

to Terminal B
This exit off-limits by order of the management.
We apologize for any inconvenience.

The gnome looks exceptionally bored. He's unarmed and unarmored. Besides the key, the only other objet of interest is a baseball hat he's wearing that says 'Hello Airport... A Nice Place To B'. You're not sure if there's a missing 'e' at the end there or not though. As you approach, he looks up and frowns.

"Sigh, not again. Hi there folks. This entrance, or exit, what-have-you... it's off limits." He points to the sign. "So just head on back to where you came from. Sorry, I don't know anything more than that, I'm just doing my job of making sure no one passes through here."

He sees the skepticism on your faces. "Yeah, I know what you're thinking, and I strongly advise against it. I mean, just think about it. You know who the god-damn management is around here?" He points to the temple behind you. "And I'm the one, sole guardian here? I know you think there's something to be found beyond, but there's not, and I'm only gonna tell you once. Try to get by, and you'll find out why I'm the frickin' guardian. So what's it gonna be, folks?"

Vrill looks at the lot of you and prepares to cast.

The gnome says one more time: "Really, I'm not screwin' around here. You think you're special, maybe you can go talk to The Management and convince 'em otherwise." He points again to the massive black temple, and gets down off the stool, rolling up his sleeves. "Otherwise... well, nuts."

So what's it gonna be, folks?
"Uh, hey everyone...heheh."

Cinder walks out from the shadows and kinda steps lightly up to the boat and looks at the golem smiling. "Hey there buddy. Guess you want to know why I came? Where I'm from and what I'm doing too? Well how bout a)To turn the tide b)The land of the living and c)Yo momma. Now step aside."

Cinder gets on the boat.
"Ron, you shouldn't have lighning bolted Marivhon right off the bat. You need to take care of his permanents, like creatures, that will stay on the board and do damage to you. When you've gotten him low enough, then let him have it with what burn spells you have in your hand. Untill then though, just use them as creature control. Vrill may be a wizard, but he'll never rule Domina, if ya know what I'm sayin. Can we get outta here?"
  Day ?: Bad Math
"Up to 20 life? I thought you were supposed to be the brains of this operation. Sorry, but you're at 19," says Vrill.

"Okay, good draw. Actually, whats-his-chops gave you some fairly decent cards. Next round will be a big round for you. So, tap that and play that, and then tap that and that and play that. And don't forget to attack."

"Great, thanks coach!" says Ron, who plays a Sol Ring and a Grey Ogre. "Grey Ogre- well I guess you got some crap cards too."

"I kind of like him," says Ron. "He reminds me of Jesus." Ron sends the Goblin your way again, and you're down to 18.
"Damn man. This is rough. ok well I play a plains and a healing salve for 3 to me putting me back at 20. With my other 2 plains I play a felwar stone. Done I guess."
  Day ?: Who's Playing?
Vrill: "Okay, now play that, and tap all of those, and play that on that guy."

Ron: "Are you sure? I mean, that guy's not too bad."

Vrill: "Look, you don't know how to play. I'm just giving you some pointers."

Ron plays a third mountain, taps all land, and Fireballs the White Knight. Then the Goblin hits you for 1.

Ron says "Hey, I'm winning! I guess that's what happens when you play against the power of Jesus."
I play another Plains. tap tap and a White knight! go.
  Day ?: Tap Dance
Ron plays a mountain and a Goblin. "Hey Greg, why didn't I play the Goblin first, and then Lightning Bolt this round?"

"Huh? Shut up and draw. He's playing White, so expect some cheese in a few rounds."
"Come on Cinder just answer the questions!"

I play a plains. "fuck, I'm done."
Descent into Depths is an old school 1st Edition AD&D adventure run by the Infinity Group.

What type of dice? How many dice?

3 Sided

4 Sided

5 Sided

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