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I was bored, so I decided to turn this week's episode into a written form. If anyone can be bothered to read it (it's 5015 words, so I would be surprised), I'd love to hear what people think. Also, would I be able to post it on Wattpad (with a link to this video, of course) ? Our story begins in the back booth of Edgegate's worst-kept tavern. Here, we find an odd group of people. Sat on a cushion half-eaten by maggots are two hopeless kidnappers. Sat on a potato sack to protect herself from the maggots is their kidnappee. Last in a very long line to the throne, Princess Ansley Foggyfeather always felt like people didn't want her. Never actually having received their ransom for her, the kidnappers agreed. After all, she was the king's backup's backup's backup's backup's backup. It wouldn't be worth paying for her back. The first kidnapper is a half-elf wizard. In training. Again. The first time he was taught his spells, people thought it would be funny to teach him the wrong incantations. Krifpum Pumkrif is well on the way to having a full repertoire again though. His spell book enables him to instantly turn anywhere into a disco with his "Dancing Lights". He is also able to instantly stop the party by silencing it. And, for whenever wood is needed, Krifpum Pumkrif can summon a block right in front of you. For combat (though looking at him one would assume this was a foreign concept), he can scatter everything in the room, or be more precise and hurl a single object. If he feels like it, he can coat himself in a corrosive red slime. But, of course, the most important spell has been left until last. If you are locked in a room, if your key gets stuck, if it's been wet and the door won't move, Krif can open it for you. Curled up on Krifpum Pumkrif's lap is his cat named Jiggalump. Its eyes hold the grumpiness of spending many years with a failed wizard. Its belly holds all the food that came along with that. Looking somewhat similar to Garfield, Jiggalump is a sometimes welcome addition to the team. The second kidnapper goes by the name of Leo Shadow. He's a rogue halfling, and a previous member of the thieves guild. Following a rather unfortunate incident absolutely nothing at all to do with himself whatsoever, Leo became a target for the guild, and he fled for his safety. Along with the head of the guild's wallet. He's a good looking guy with an ugly heart, and skilled with a knife. Don't get on the wrong side of him if it's the last thing you do, because it very likely will be. Ansley, though she should really be looking terrified about her having been kidnapped with no apparent release, is excited. The idea of rebellion sounds like so much fun, and she wants some kind of a thrill. Brought together by their stories of abandonment, the three somehow soon became friends. They need to stick together through anything thrown at them. They need stand tall and hold their ground. But, most of all, they need a shower. Krif takes the initiative and decides to approach the bartender. Walking to the bar, Krif cranes his head slowly up, and up, and up, until his eyes meet with the bartender's. He holds in a squeal. The bartender's face shows many scars. His nose bends and meanders like a river. One eye is slightly squinted, and the eyebrow above lacking almost all its hair. "Hello. How are you?" asks Krif who is shrinking by the second. The bartender lets out a grunt, and continues wiping a mug with a stained towel. "My name's Krifpum Pumkrif. Not quite a wizard. Just, asking about a shower. Could we make some deal for a shower? For bathing?" The bartender's eyebrows raise to his forehead, almost hitting where his hair would be were he not bald. "Shower?" he asks. "Like, uh, like what the nobles have? What about a bath? A pond? The sink?" The bartender's head swings from side to side. "Where do you think you are, mate?" Krifpum Pumkrif squeals, audibly this time, and hurries back to the booth. Even when sat down again, his voice won't go any lower than two octaves higher than normal, and his back stays in a bent over position. "No showers for anyone, guys," he says, in a voice that sounds like a piglet crossed with a screaming goat. "Did you offer him money? We have some." enquires Leo, holding out in his hand the party's funds. Money is normally the thing on the top of his mind. That, and an abnormal paranoia for hidden traps. "I didn't. I didn't even think, I just..." In an expert manoeuvre, Krif swipes the money and heads back. His voice lowering somewhat and his back straightening so as not to overbalance, Krif pushes through the crowds of people and reappears at the bar. He digs into his pocket for money. Feeling around, he pulls out what he thinks is fifteen gold, and puts it in front of the bartender. It's actually just a handful of assorted boiled sweets, which ought to have gone off a few years ago. Krif grins meekly, and quickly replaces the sweets with the actual gold, before popping a sweet into his mouth. "A shower?" he asks again, his voice muffled by the sugar swirling about his mouth. The bartender looks again confused, and slides the money across the counter and into the bar. His hands return to holding the mug and the cloth. "What do you want, mate?" "A sh-sh- a shower, or a bath? And a room? I guess?" "What money have you got for that, mate?" "But I, uh, I just- I just gave you fifteen though, for the, for the shower? What about... a solid cube of wood? Which I can conjure up for you lickety split!" The bartender's eyebrows raise further still, almost lying flat on his bald scalp. "Like perhaps... so that you could stand taller? Or you could..." Leo hurried over and interrupted to help. "Is there anything we could do to get some of that back? I needed that," says Leo, looking hopefully over the bar. Or, attempting to. His legs are a little short, as is the rest of him. The bartender laughs. A mighty grunt pierces the air. He fires it over, and over again. Perhaps he wants to mock Leo for his suggestion. Perhaps he want to see if he can make Krif jump again like he did with the first grunt. The tavern is lucky that its roof still lies on its walls. Then, the door creaks open. Sounding like the long, uncared for nails of a goblin scratching and scraping against rough wood, the hinge turns. Krif jumps again, almost landing on top of Leo on his return. With footsteps that echo across the entire tavern, a man walks in. A sword is placed carefully across his back. His muscles bulge underneath his worn armour. His overcoat wraps around his bloodied breastplate. The bartender carefully puts the mug back and turns to face him. This man's face is even more tattered than the bartender's, but somehow looks like it was weathered in victories rather than occasional losses. The man's eyes swing about in their sockets, their focus drifting across the room. Though the group attempt to hide from his gaze, the man still holds eye-contact with them for a few seconds. The grip his stare holds is like that of a headlock. Krif squeals for a third time. Ansley reaches for Jiggalump, almost to check if Krif has swallowed him or not for all the squealing he's doing. Eventually though, the man's gaze lets go of the group. They slink back, like marionette puppets whose string has gone limp. Pounding across the tavern, the man makes his way to the bar. Leo and Ansley follow his movements with their gaze. Krif follows the man's coat with his. "We could get our money back," notices Leo. "I wasn't a member of the thieves guild for nothing, you know." "Good idea! You want me to cause a distraction real quick?" asks Krif, excited to use his limited magical abilities. "Sure," agrees Leo, a decision he'll soon regret. Krif walks over to the nearest table and sweeps all the mugs and plates off of it. They land with a sort of clang-y squelch on the muddy floor. He leaps up as if about to make a great speech, though Ansley is the only one watching. Waving a staff around in a way that can only be described as an elephant trunk's attempt at interpretive dance, he shouts at the top of his lungs. "Lancing dights!" Eyes swivel towards Krif as he proudly holds his staff infront of him. The smug grin on his face slowly turns to a confused one as he realises nothing has happened. Leo shakes his head and thumps it against the leg of a bar stool. One of the men whose table Krif is standing on top of begins to compute somewhat what has just happened. His fist forms, and begins to swing at him. "Dancing lights!" he shouts, slightly less enthusiastically than the last time and with slightly less elephant-esque dancing from his staff. The faces in the tavern morph from a "what is this guy doing?" kind of confusion into an "oh my goodness me what is that in the air that is not possible why is that there what is life oh my gosh" kind of confusion. Krif grins again, sheepishly this time. Jiggalump paws at the orb of bright light floating above him and plays with it like a ball of yarn. These shining balls hover and move, taking hold of everyone's attention and sucking out all noise from the room. They gently illuminate the dark patches of the tavern air. Like stars in the night sky, their beauty contrasts wonderfully with the somewhat less beautiful room they lie in. Entranced, everyone begins to watch the orbs. Everyone, that is, except the bartender and the mysterious man. They're too locked into their conversation to notice anything else happening. Krif, seizing his moment of glory, begins to swing his arms around in a way that should be illegal. His body flies around on top of the table, his legs following in a strange fashion, trying to keep him balanced. Krif calls it dancing, though noone else appears to have made the connection. His hips swing around, orbiting him like some kind of weird planetary system. Leo leaves Krif to do whatever it is he thinks he's doing, and makes for the money. He climbs up onto the bar, only knocking over one stool. He leans forward. He swirls his arm about behind the bar, landing it upon something slimy and wet. Leo quickly swaps hands, and soon finds the money. Sliding back over the counter and landing on top of his knocked over bar stool, he finds the gaze of another man. Grinning as if that was supposed to happen, the man breaks eye contact and returns to being confused by Krif along with the rest of the tavern's patrons. Still in the groove, Krif points a finger and moves it quickly around his head. It hits the rim of his tattered hat. As his hat falls from his lofty height, he attempts to catch it by reaching the floor before it does. In some kind of goalkeeper manoeuvre, he dives underneath. Krif lands on the table with a grand thud. The table happens to be slightly wet, and he slides across. Almost completely off of the table, he reaches for his hat which lands on an outstretched finger. Krif carefully places it back on his head and begins to "dance" again. The tavern by this point has stopped being enthralled by the lights. They are now more interested in Krif's attempted dance show, though Jiggalump is still happily playing with his floating orb. Ansley however, has turned her attention to the conversation happening in the corner of the bar. Her nose tingles with excitement as curiosity bubbles up inside of her. What are they talking about? She has to know. Royals need to know everything, of course. She creeps over to where the men are standing. She walks carefully between confused man and confused man. Reaching them, Ansley grins and assumes a spy-like pose. "These people, are they rich?" "One is said to be a princess, though I've never seen a princess sat on a potato sack before." After a few seconds, Ansley realises who they are talking about. Her eyebrows move together and her breathing becomes dangerously loud. "And, can they handle themselves?" "No." He lets out a snort of half laugher, and half pity. This was it. Ansley was so filled with fury by this hideous comment that she was driven to do what no lady should do. It was enough to insult her friends. But, to insult a royal as well? Her hand acted before her brain could think about what she was doing. And, she hit the wrong one. The more experienced brawler turns slowly around. His large hand shoots out. Its fingers are outstretched. He snaps it around Ansley's wrist, curling his fingers and tightening his grip. Her fingers slowly begin to turn into a pinky shade of blue. She wants to wince, but she doesn't want to show any sign of weakness to this man. The man moves his face so close to Ansley's that the tip of their noses are almost touching. She can feel his sticky breath brushing against her top tip. She can feel the warmth from his sweat tickling her forehead. She can feel the anger in his gaze boring through her eyes. She gulps. "What do you want?" Ansley can see his tongue tracing the words against his teeth. Lined up in wonky rows, they glint in the light of Krif's magic. They are stained the same colour of the fragments of crisps caught between each tooth in a slimy blob of spittle. As he talks, one crisp glob shoots out of his mouth. It stings her lip. Ansley makes the decision to try to flirt with this vile creature. Her mind can't think of any compliments fast enough, so her mouth runs off and speaks for her. "Nice... face?" attempts Ansley. This was probably the biggest lie she'd told all day. She stares at him as she watches his forehead furrow into more grooves. Her eyes follow beads of sweat trickling down his face. His nose flares, and fires another putrid gust of air towards her. All her focus drifts from his face and turns to the more difficult task of not being sick. After a few seconds, the man loosens his grip and allows some of the blood to return to Ansley's wrist. With his spare hand, he gestures towards the flailing lunatic and severely embarrassed halfling. His grip loosens more as he looks upon them. His eyebrows squash together as he tries to work out what they are doing. It doesn't work. The man sighs, and passes it off as some kind of elvish ritual. "These two, they with you?" he asks, somewhat hopeful of the answer "no". "Yes." He shakes his head again. "Adventurers, right?" His mouth forms the words as his brain wonders why he even asked. The last time this man had ever seen anyone as pathetic as these, he had just knocked someone out and removed their legs. "Yup!" she exclaims, "Rebellious adventurers! I'm not a princess at all!" By this point the man is somewhat used to the confusion, and simply ignores her last two statements. His eyes move once again over to Krif, who is tripping over limbs he doesn't even know he has. The man shakes his head and sighs once more. "I have a proposition for you." The man tightens his grip on Ansley again, and begins to pull her back to their table. Leo notices and begins to make his way over himself. Ansley, as she is dragged past Krif's table, grabs onto his arm. She pulls him off the table as Krif attempts some kind of a finishing bow. Instead, he ends up elbowing himself in the ribs. Doubling over in pain, he slides across the wet floor to the booth at the back. If Leo could have a look that disowned Krif any more, then that would be stuck upon his face right now. "The proposition is simple. You pay me money, and I give you something in return." The group stare blankly at him. "Yeah, you're going to need to be a bit more specific than that," says Leo, still with his head in his hands. The man nods, and scans the bar. Luckily, nobody wants to look at Krif again after his terrible dancing debut, so they are safe. The man puts his hand into the beautifully sewn pockets of his waistcoat, and pulls out a scroll. Leo and Ansley watch as he unravels it. Krif admires the quality of the stitching, and reaches over to touch the coat, but the man strikes his hand out of the way. "Do any of you know of a mage called Wandering Norton?" he asks. Krif nods as he hears this name. Of course he'd heard of Wandering Norton. Any wizard who's anybody (or indeed nobody in Krif's case) has heard of Wandering Norton. His attention severed from the fantastic waistcoat, Krif begins to pay more attention to the conversation. Leo makes understanding noises as they talk, pretending to know all there is to know about the Norton family of wizards. "Yeah, the alchemist," begins Krif. "I heard he's not that nice of a bloke. Sends out raiding parties to villages, owns a dungeon with loads of evil guards, cheats at the bingo evenings." "Oh, yeah, the bingo evenings," nods Leo. The man looks confused again. "Well, maybe not so much the last one," admits Krif, a sheepish look on his face. "But, he does own a lot of weird potions and stuff. Some of those have some pretty expensive ingredients, I'd say." Leo's face lights up. "Oh, yeah. If someone were to steal them all, and sell them on, we... I mean they... could make a nice profit." He grins, "And he's not a nice bloke, so maybe the authorities will have a bounty! And we... they could kill him and bring back his head for gold and then w-- they'd be rich for the rest of their lives and be happy and live in a massive castle with fifty-nine bedrooms at least and it would..." Leo trails off, fantasizing about riches. "Wait..." starts Krif, "Is that what you're proposing? That we go and kill the greatest and strongest wizard in existence?" A round finger extends from the man's hand and taps the scroll on the table. "I happen to have plans for the first level of his little dungeon," he explains, "I'd be willing to sell them to you. For a price." Leo's eyes widen as he leans in further. Excitement is painted all over his tiny face. "How much?!" he blurts. The man's eyes scan the group. He calculates how much they can probably afford, and adds about five. Then he remember's Krif's "dancing", and subtracts ten. "I reckon... twenty gold." "Four gold," barters Ansley, resting her elbows onto the table. Realising what exactly is on the table, she quickly lifts them a few inches and wipes them on the corner of her potato sack. The man simply laughs in her face. "Four and a half gold," she continues, almost oblivious to her incompetence. The man laughs again. "Sixty-four go--" starts Ansley. "Only four gold! Just four gold!" interrupts Leo, attempting to save what little funds they had. "How about... fifteen gold and a five-foot block of wood!" offers Krif. The man grins, and shakes his head. He laughs a hearty laugh once more. "Eighteen gold," he offers. "We'll go for that, but you have to throw in anything else you've got. Any weapons to go against this guy, any armour, anything like that." agrees Leo. "And more potato sacks!" Ansley adds. "As you can see, Ansley over here isn't exactly well equipped or indeed well dressed for adventuring. So we need something to get provisions." "Twenty-five gold, and I'll get you a scroll that'll get you past one of his traps," says the man. "And new clothes," adds Ansley. "I don't have new clothes for you." The man motions towards his small backpack. "Do I look like the sort of man who carries around extra sets of clothing? Let alone extra sets of clothing for girls, and-" He looks down at Leo. "and dwarvish guys?" "I'm a halfling!" explains Leo, almost shouting. Changing the subject, Krif decides to jump in. "You wear nice clothes. Where'd you get the waistcoat? I like it. Looks prettier than mine." An idea suddenly pops into Krif's mind. Possibly not the best idea he's ever had, but certainly better than his idea to try dance. "Twenty gold, and we'll take that and the jacket." "But not the scroll to get past the trap?" "Nah, we don't need that." "So, twenty with the waistcoat? Yeah, okay." Krif grins and raises a hand to hi-five Leo. Leo just stares blankly back. He keeps grinning, and lowers his hand to hi-five Jiggalump instead. Jiggalump is having none of it though, and extends his claws. He hisses, and slashes Krif's fingertip. "Yeowch!" exclaims Krif, sucking the tip of his thumb. The man looks over, seriously worried. His attention is soon diverted however by Leo holding out the money. He takes it, and puts it in his trouser pocket. He then slides the plans across the table and they land in Leo's outstretched arms. He grins, and holds it tightly against his chest. The man then takes off his waistcoat, revealing more scars on his arms. He hands it to Krif, who wipes away a tear with it before returning to sucking his thumb. "Hang on..." begins Leo. "That coat doesn't actually fit any of us. He's a big man. I'm a halfling, you're a half-elf, and you're, uh, a girl, Ansley." "Hey!" The man leans over and begins to pull the map from Leo's grip. Leo holds on tightly, but the man is far stronger. He lays out the plans on the table so everyone could see. For a few minutes he explains in exquisite detail all the traps and dangers they will face in the dungeon. He also explains the trap for which they needed the scroll. Krif looks at the map, and points to a certain part with his bloody thumb. "Hey, that makes a smiley face!" he exclaims, as a drop of blood falls from his thumb and lands on the parchment. He quickly withdraws his hand, and returns his thumb to his mouth. "I'll, uh, I'll trade you a lovely coat for that scroll," offers Leo. "I just happened to get it, it's only second hand." The corners of the man's mouth drop as it forms a line as straight as his broad shoulders. His eyebrows come together. His begins to breathe in puffs. "You wouldn't happen to be talking about the coat I just sold you, would you?" "Hey, I didn't ask you where you got your map from! You shouldn't ask me where I get my stuff from." The man just gets up and begins to walk off. Funnily enough, he's had enough of the group. Pounding again across the floor, sending splatters of mud flying into the air, he makes his way over to the door. Krif notices, and quickly sneaks after him, with the scroll in mind. He slowly creeps up, step by squelchy step. He lowers his non-injured hand into a pocket, and rummages around. All he finds is the sharp end of a pin, however. It sends a shooting pain through his arm and Krif is forced to withdraw. Now sucking two thumbs, Krif looks over at the others for reassurance. They simultaneously lay their heads in their hands. Returning to the table clutching the waistcoat awkwardly between his elbows whilst holding both thumbs in his mouth, Krif releases his grip and plops the coat down on top of the map. "What're we going to do about this?" he asks, his voice muffled by his two sore thumbs. "We could sell it," suggests Leo. "You tried that, remember?" "Wait!" commands Krif, his eyebrows raised to make space for his sudden epiphany. "We could auction it!" "That was where I was going..." sighs Leo, somewhat disappointed. "Danfing fights!" shouts Krif, holding his staff in some kind of weird embrace between his two elbows. After nothing happens, he removes his thumbs from his mouth. "Dancing lights!" Krif quickly stuffs them back in. He struts up to the table he had cleared previously, and leans over. He takes his elbow and slides it around, knocking off the plates and mugs again. It looks more like his elbows are the feet of a three year old attempting to ice-skate, as they trace strange lines across its surface. Krif, Ansley, and Leo hop up onto the table and they stamp their feet to get people's attention. "Ladies, gentlemen, and whatever the bartender is-- Ouch! What was that for?" Krif bent forward, looking like he was about to whistle to a sheepdog. Ansley had just jabbed him hard in the ribs. "So we don't get kicked out before we sell the coat!" "Ladies and gentlemen, you've never seen a coat like this!" shouts Leo, taking over from Krif's failed introduction. "One hundred percent genuine leather from the furthest reaches. This coat has seen some places!" "Oh my gosh, is that dragon leather?" says Krif, with his best salesman hat on. That was probably the most useful thing he'd said all day. "It sure is!" grins Leo, waving the coat about to show its many angles. As he spins it, Leo realises he can see all the way through the coat at times. There are some seriously large holes in its front. "Six copper!" comes a voice from the tavern. The voice's friends snigger to themselves. If you gave a beggar in the street six copper, he'd throw it into the wishing fountain and ask for a mouldy loaf of bread in exchange. "We'd like slightly more than that..." says Krif, hopefully. If his contorted position allowed it, Krif would have shaken his head and sighed. Instead, he knees himself in the chin and almost falls off the table. Leo and Ansley glance over to see him crouched in the corner of the table, appearing to be impersonating a snail. The three look around the tavern. Nobody is paying attention to their auction but the man who offered six copper for it. All are focussed on their drinks and their conversations. Even Krif has stopped caring. After all, this visit to the tavern has been a real danger to his health. "Fine!" Krif says, in a voice made of pure agony. "Have it! Take it for six copper!" They exchange the coat, and Leo and Ansley move over towards Krif. "You want to head off today? We'd make it there sooner if we did," explains Ansley. "Sure!" says Kriff. He hops off the table and hobbles like a baby penguin towards the door. Krif is shrunk down so much that he is even shorter than Leo. "So long, tavern! When you see these boys next-- Ow!" Ansley glares at him, removing her elbow from his side. "When you see these boys next-- and girl, we'll be the richest men-- and lady, in town!" They strut out of the door attempting to look cooler than a cucumber in ice. They actually look like they've begun round two of the Krif dancing competition. Nobody wants to see that. Krif waves his staff back through the tavern door. "Prancing knights!" he shouts. A man sitting near the door who had seen them leave nods his head, and turns to his friend. "They were a bunch of prancing knights, weren't they?" Leaving the tavern, the group emerge into the town square. Surrounded by shops on each of its five sides (they told the mayor not to hire an orc for an architect), it's the hub of all commercial business in Edgegate. The large fountain in the centre shoots water into great columns. Spray descends and fizzes upon the pool's surface. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" asks Krif, staring longingly at the fountain. "Well, I'm thinking of something, so I'd say nope," replies Leo. "That fountain looks a lot like a shower." "I am not getting in there, Krif. Even rats have standards higher than that," states Ansley. She turns to the side, folds her arms, and huffs stubbornly. "I guess it's just you and me then, Leo." "You got the first half of that right. It is just you," states Leo, assuming the same pose as Ansley. "Fine, then! If you guys want to smell of orc breath whilst I'm slaying monsters with my epic magic tomorrow smelling of... eau de fountain, that's your choice." With that, Krif waddles over to the fountain and rolls in. Clothes now wet and sticking to his body, he washes himself. Leo and Ansley stand as far away from Krif as possible. They look around the town square, and whistle inconspicuously. They freeze when they notice a member of the town guard strolling about. Their heads turn. Their eyes lock on to his. They watch as he walks nearer and nearer to the fountain. They stare as the guards gasps, and takes a few steps backwards. He squashes his eyes shut, turns around, and reopens them. The man walks off again in a half run, muttering to himself confused murmurings. Once Krif is satisfyingly clean, and Leo and Ansley satisfyingly embarrassed, the group set off once more. Their thrilling adventure awaits! What will they find in the dungeon of Wandering Norton? Will they survive the treacherous journey? Will Krif ever learn to dance properly? Find out in the next instalment of "D&D is For Nerds: The Novel"!

Pum Pum is a slang word for vagina in England.

Will there be more of these how to be a great game master videos?

Jp stop the crap with invisibility. It does not take 2 rounds to cast it. It takes about 12 seconds. Please read how rounds/actions work.

Why is Neal in a bath robe?

Wow really JP? POE = D2 clone?

The Battle of Thermopalye(?) is the ONLY reason we even know that the Spartans ever existed, If they didn't do what they did there we'd all be speaking Persian right now.

she doesn't let him playing with his wand?

Shall I sing a FUCK for you?

1:27 Just look at the tower and bushes and tell me you don't see an image.

I bursted out laughing at 0:53

I LOST IT AT 1:01

I think that I am going to run mine with a ghost pipe once I am back up and running, I just like the dual look better. Nice catch on the white ring on the ghost pipe.

Crossed are basically like reavers in firefly

So JP's a violent slut, Maggie's a creepy possible rapist, Kaitlyn is a driver with flair and Dodger is a fucking psycho bitch with a weird as fuck shotgun who has mechanic experience... Well this will be fun!

What was the comic called?

ommmmyyyygggoooooaaaddd dodgelugger lobelia driver is playing and wheat be d.m-ing. GET JESSE