...written this week by his fellow D&Der (and AQ-customer) Ankarino Lara, aka the somewhat verbose Professor Wormbog:

As you'll recall from last time, one of our party -- a slimy lout with dripping skin and an offensive, swaggering demeanor -- unintentionally caused a dimensional rip with his extradimensional bag of holding, sending several of us far from our home plane. As Son Ute (of the Seritan Empire), Maxar (the Sorcerer), the slime master (the slime master), and Professor Wormbog (a tall and sturdy tiger-mawed half-orc draped in Victorian finery) recovered from our accidental inter-dimensional trip, we were relieved to find ourselves in the well-ordered plains of Arcadia (itself a Plane). After a short chat with a helpful Arcadian native on one of the roads leading to the nicely shaped walls of the geometrically perfect Arcadian city of Innutan, we decided that we must be off to rescue our lost shaman, Amar, if possible, and also locate the wayward & vile Rakshasa corpse that we desperately needed to speak with. With a knowing nod and a jingle of the power-infused crystals about Prof. Wormbog's tunic, our foursome returned to the Prime Material Plane (PMP) via the manifestation of the Professor's teleportation power. There, after further misadventures in a booby-trapped wizard's chamber, we acquired the necessary looking glass to scry upon our missing shaman and the misplaced body of the Rakshasa.

Retrieving Amar was a tricky endeavor. As we looked into the smoky scrying mirror we were horrified to find Amar, standing on on side of an impossibly large metal cube, floating in a river of molten rock! As our view zoomed in and out, we realized he had fallen into the plane of Acheron, the Hell of eternal battle-men. These cubes, the size of small continents, were many in number, all floating across the sea of lava and colliding with each other with appalling consequences. Further, each cube was swarming with thousands of marauding warriors, resigned to do battle and be killed, only to awake again for another days war. And there among the murderous droves, Amar sat crouched and weeping, trying to hang on to his last bit of life-blood. The Professor and Maxar bravely turned themselves invisible, clasped hands, teleported into Acheron, flew over to the crouching Amar, and teleported him out in the nick of time, as a circling blue dragon swooped for the kill.

Retrieving the Rakshasa corpse was even more convoluted. Gazing into the smoky glass, we spied the dead Rakshasa lying on a crudely made table, and a gruesome, purple-skinned hag loitering by its side. The walls were befouled with carcasses hanging on meat hooks. All manner of corpses littered the floors -- the bodies of Humans, Halflings, Angels, and Devils alike decorated this most fiendish hovel. Fortunately, the Professor speaks Infernal, and overheard the hag bartering feverishly with four tittering insect devils with bloated bellies as they negotiating a price for the prize they found. Rakshasa corpses are in high demand in the Hells, it seems, worth quite a few human souls (in the form of horrid human-headed worms). With a knowing nod and a rub of his crystals, the Professor's tunic unfurled revealing a second set of arms. He manifested a few more powers and announced that he would retrieve the corpse. In a blink, he was gone. Exactly 18 seconds passed, and with a 'pop!' and a hiss, the Professor reappeared, bleeding heavily from a nasty shoulder wound, but carrying the Rakshasa corpse! Astonished, the party asked how he managed to defeat the five devils alone. After a short pause, Professor Wormbog revealed his origins, and explained in great detail what transpired in the hag's chambers...

Next week -- Who is this Professor Wormbog??


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