The session began in chaos — an explosion rocked Drybones’ laboratory in the Scriptorium. Smoke billowed from the windows as the party raced to investigate. Inside, they found Drybones, eyes ablaze and shouting at unseen figures: “Say it to my face!” Fire poured from his body, igniting the room around him.
Ben charged through the flames, taking serious burns to reach Drybones and calm him down. The skeletal researcher revealed he’d heard voices in his head while he slept — sinister whispers telling him he was dead, urging him to rest, to let others claim the secrets hidden in his lab. The voices reminded him of his own death, a truth he cannot face.
Amid the smoky ruins, another foul presence lingered: the acrid scent of Erasmo’s stew, which had caused discomfort and confusion throughout the bastion. Though not the cause of the explosion, the meal had clearly been prepared under some form of mental influence.
It was Badger Scratch who first connected the strange behavior, stew, and growing unease to something deeper — recalling how the Rollers once infiltrated the bastion through the sewers. Had the bathroom layout changed since then? The memory sparked suspicion of the plumbing itself.
Following this lead, the party uncovered the truth: a hive of cranium rats — vile psychic creatures with exposed, pulsing brains — had been influencing the bastion through the sewer system. Glorb peered into a toilet and found them staring back in eerie unison. He summoned a glowing mini-Glorb in preparation. Brother Kralj lit the bathroom with divine flame. The battle was tense and disgusting.
Finally, Drybones dove headfirst into the toilet and eradicated the hive in an explosive blaze of glory.
The toilets were condemned. A new outhouse was built outside the bastion, proudly bearing a sign: “No Cranium Rats Allowed.”
In a burning laboratory, Drybones the skeleton stands at the center, eyes glowing and mouth open in a furious scream. Flames swirl around him, igniting wooden shelves and scrolls. Behind him: broken vials, overturned cauldrons, and a pot of vile bubbling stew.
A long table filled with half-eaten bowls of rancid, steaming stew. Party members clutch their stomachs or stare blankly, while Erasmo grins manically in the background, holding a ladle. Floating above the table: ghostly rats whispering suggestions.
In the dim, grimy corridor of the bastion, Mevlin Grone, the depressed tiefling duty manager, sits slouched on a crate reviewing janitorial rosters. A dagger is stabbed into his thigh — blood dripping — but he reacts with only mild surprise or apathy. One party member or NPC looks on in shock or confusion.
In a grimy stone bathroom lit by flickering torchlight, the gooey, translucent creature Glorb stands at the edge of a cracked porcelain toilet, cautiously peering down. From his chest, a small glowing version of himself — Mini-Glorb — hovers dramatically in the air, pulsing with greenish light. Below, the dark bowl swirls with sewer mist. Suspense and absurdity hang in the air as backup is sent… into the toilet.
Drybones cannonballs into the toilet with righteous fury. Magical energy and bone fragments swirl as the rats explode in radiant light. The toilet shatters. Party members look on from the door in disbelief.
A brand-new outhouse stands proudly outside the bastion. A handmade sign reads: “No Cranium Rats Allowed.” Drybones stands beside it, arms crossed and proud, while other NPCs cheer or hold their noses.
