The mountain finally exhales. The Skygate is stable, the screaming wind is gone, and the elementals that once begged for relief now swirl around Cliff like kids around a campfire, calling him Earth Brother. The party heads back to the Metallic Capital thinking they’re carrying a win… but the Platinum Keep doesn’t reward “mostly heroic.” It audits everything.What follows is a three-day descent into confiscations, iron doors, and a courtroom that feels colder than the summit ever did. Witnesses step forward, debts get weighed, and the party learns the hard way that saving a dragon does not erase the bodies left behind in Leake. When the verdict lands, it doesn’t fall evenly. One of them gets taken. The rest get a leash. And the Keep assigns them a new shadow: Nefir, a paladin whose job is to make sure they don’t “fix” the realm again.
Music: Underdark - The Web's Edge Ambience by Supernova Collective https://supernovacollective.bandcamp.comLicensed under Scrybe Quill Context Licensehttps://www.scrybequill.com/license
A storm that won’t break. A mountain trail where even the wildlife bails early. And at the top, Mecoo’s sky-gate starts acting like it’s about to rip itself inside out. The party pushes through warped winds and half-spoken warnings, only to find a “secured” scene that feels anything but secure… and then the ambush hits. Poison. Masks. Someone pulling strings from far away. By the time the clouds finally start to thin, they’re left with one living problem they can’t ignore and one name they definitely won’t forget.
Music: Eberron - Mount Ironrot Background by Supernova Collective https://supernovacollective.bandcamp.com
Licensed under Scrybe Quill Context License
https://www.scrybequill.com/license
Streamlabs decided to take a hard nap mid-session. Not the “everything looks fine on my end while you’re all staring at a black screen” problem, thank God. This one was a full lockup. Preview frozen, controls dead, the whole app basically turned into a screenshot. So I did the only thing you can do: killed it, restarted the stream, and jumped right back into the scene as fast as possible.
In Karra’s stronghold, the Shadowfell didn’t ease us in, it just took something. The Jester showed up, called it a new board, and Nefir was suddenly gone. The party salvaged what they could (including a Scroll of Gentle Repose), said a surprisingly real goodbye to Ed-D, and followed Grashka’s “pull” straight into a wraith ambush that got messy fast… especially when Cliff’s holy power hit Grashka like it hit the dead. Later, they found villagers they’d saved before, picked up another key from Brie, and now it’s two keys in hand, three to go.
DM Deep Dive is backstories: why I cap them, why “too short” is still a problem, and what happens when you give me nothing to pull on. Spoiler: I’ll make the strings myself.
An undead village that asks to be raised, a necromancer with rules, and a paladin order ready to burn it all down. The party has to choose between kingdom law and Karra’s living–dead families, knowing whatever killed an Emerald Dragon without leaving a mark is still out there. They bend the truth, break a few knights, and walk away with ash on their boots and the Sky Shrine on their to-do list. How long can they juggle “necessary lies” before Bahamut’s court puts the pieces together?
Music: Barovia - Death House Background by Supernova Collective https://supernovacollective.bandcamp.com
Licensed under Scrybe Quill Context License
https://www.scrybequill.com/license
A year stolen by the Elysian Inn, raining oil-fire over Hawk Tuah, and somehow the party walks away with a bottomless beer mug, a dragon-blessed pantry, and a sack of wagon scrap for Tim’s next bad idea. Their report to the Gem and Metallic courts earns them a new job and a deed to a tiny riverside bastion that might someday be home—or a tomb. Between a too-smooth “I can get anything” broker, a town crier screaming about skyscraper-sized kuo-toa, and a village peacefully ruled by undead, the line between diplomacy and preemptive smiting is getting very, very thin.
Music: Neverwinter - Neverdeath Graveyard Background by Supernova Collective https://supernovacollective.bandcamp.com
Licensed under Scrybe Quill Context License
https://www.scrybequill.com/license
The stream cut out again even after dropping to 1080p, so Tech Diaries covers Wi-Fi finally betraying me and the plan to hard-wire the house before it happens again. In game, the party woke in a drained, starless nowhere, met Grashka and her radiant sword Mildred, and killed a nightmare creature that left behind a single purple key. For the DM Deep Dive, I break down two rulings on old spell-point memories and a Vortex Warp vs “swallowed whole” moment, and how to keep trust when your description and the stat block don’t quite match.
The Elysian Inn finally showed its teeth. As Bellamy, Kolut, Tim, and the rest tugged at the seams—guest ledgers that spanned centuries, blood-refilling relics, and offers to “grow old” without ever leaving—they made their call: slam the automa-cart into the front door and pray. It worked… mostly. They burst back into daylight to find a year missing, the war grinding on without them, and no sign yet of the stolen chalice that might decide the next move in the dragons’ game.
There’s no time to mourn lost months. The town square erupts into chaos as goblins turn a packed theater into a killing floor—children strung up as leverage, archers on the rails, a warg-rider king laughing under a sky that starts raining fire. Planet crew and Plight crew hit the aisles together: fog to blind the archers, thunder to clear the balconies, steel and radiant fury to drag hostages out of the blaze. By dawn, streets are scorched, a crowned goblin has slipped away, and both parties are riding toward the capital with smoke at their backs, a missing artifact on their conscience, and a very personal score to settle.
Music: Sigil - The Sanctum (Echoes of the Multiverse) by Supernova Collective https://supernovacollective.bandcamp.com
Licensed under Scrybe Quill Context License
https://www.scrybequill.com/license
Velvet rules, sweeter air. The Elysian looks harmless until the seams show—ledgers that outlive their guests, a ceiling you can’t fly past, a chalice that bubbles with habit. Promises are weighed against price, tempers spark, and a certain automacart decides the front doors are optional.Sunlight hits different outside. The calendar jumps, the inn sheds its glamour, and the square erupts—goblins, hostages, a wolf-rider chief grinning under drawn bows. Straps cinch, blessings rise, and steel answers noon.
Music: Vecna's Grasp - Cave of Shattered Reflection by Supernova Collective https://supernovacollective.bandcamp.comLicensed under Scrybe Quill Context Licensehttps://www.scrybequill.com/license
Tonight’s opener: why the stream hard-failed twice and why we’re shelving 4K for crisp, reliable 1080p—less glitter, more live. Then it’s back to the story: Menest’s ever-present hum, “Mark” who flips from harmless to horrifying, and an inn that isn’t an inn at all. One bad gulp later, the party wakes in a stomach-lake… just in time for a storm-armored orc to step through the dark without a word.
I lay out how we do ability scores so no one “loses” at Session Zero: shared-pool rolling (18s stay, 3s don’t), a simple swap for concept fit, and the promise that I tune DCs/ACs later—not mid-fight—if the numbers run hot. Fast, fair, and fun: the dice keep their sparkle, and the world still bites back.
Velvet doors, sweeter air. Hawk Tua’s Elysian Inn promises delight without consequence—weapons sheathed, smiles a little too practiced, pink flower-sweets on silver trays. Grendwynn’s instincts prickle; the hosts are charming, the rules are gentle, and somewhere under the music a fiendish heartbeat keeps time.
Night fractures into temptations and tells: a ceiling that won’t be flown past, a chalice that bubbles behind glass, confessions traded in warm water and low light. By last call, allies tighten their circle—and the bill isn’t coin. It’s breath, resolve, and what you’re willing to leave on the pillow when the candles go out.
Music: Greyhawk - Tomb of Wayward Souls Ambience by Supernova Collective https://supernovacollective.bandcamp.comLicensed under Scrybe Quill Context Licensehttps://www.scrybequill.com/license
Crystals that only wake to raw mana. A grove chained to stone. A warden of ice that makes every brave strike hurt. The team pushes past cold and consequence to cut someone free—if they can.By dawn, a confession chills more than the dungeon ever did. The road bends to velvet comfort where the bill isn’t paid in coin. Step in, breathe deep… and notice what the inn quietly takes.
Music: Spelljammer - Astral Sea Background by Supernova Collective https://supernovacollective.bandcamp.comLicensed under Scrybe Quill Context Licensehttps://www.scrybequill.com/license
We open the lines with Open Frequency—a spoiler-safe chat with a real fan of the show. Favorite PCs/NPCs, the moment that hooked her, and what she wants more of. If you can hear us, we can hear you.
Then the DM Deep Dive: Random Encounters That Actually Matter. Not “roll a die, throw a wolf.” How to use quick scenes with a job—spend resources on purpose, flip hero/villain moments, spotlight who your players built, drip clues, and change the map—using a simple loop: setup → choice → change. Short, sharp, and stealable for your table.
Two dawns: one where a prayer goes unanswered, and one where a stranger steps out of wild magic with a rabbit and a promise. The fourth saddle rides empty, the road bends toward answers, and the Company decides whether grief will make them sharper—or softer.
Below ground, runes wake iron, the earth itself throws punches, and a crystal chamber hums like a held breath. Mercy and necessity trade places in the smoke. When the echoes fade, only one question matters: what kind of heroes walk out of that light?
Music: Six Towers by Sydney Fabel https://bradowens.bandcamp.com/album/blades-in-the-dark-by-john-harper-unofficial-ttrpg-soundtrack
Licensed under Scrybe Quill Context License
https://www.scrybequill.com/license
A manor yields its truth: unity over greed, guardians stilled, and a will that warns what pride would ruin. Treasure shared, papers sealed, the company rides on dragonel wings with a ceasefire to carry and too many omens in their pockets.Night in the deep wood turns the road to a stage—cards drawn, rules bent, and a scythe that laughs in violet light. Hearts stop. Diamonds fall. Breath returns… mostly. By dawn, the mission still stands—but so does the Jester’s shadow.
Music: Silkshore by Sydney Fabel https://bradowens.bandcamp.com/album/blades-in-the-dark-by-john-harper-unofficial-ttrpg-soundtrackLicensed under Scrybe Quill Context Licensehttps://www.scrybequill.com/license
Clean run, messy landing: the stream behaved until the credits froze and the file went gelatinous. In Tech Diaries, I lay out the fix—credits as a scene change, stop stream → stop record in that order, instant remux to MP4 with a rolling audio backup, a 30-second “goodnight” slate to watch bitrate/drops, and a slightly lower bitrate with a bigger buffer. Clean handoff or bust.
Then to Menest: vows over blood and ash, a locket as Cliff’s anchor, and a makeshift gauntlet for Mecoo. The town hums through every smokestack; faces sit just wrong; stone says remember. Inside the inn, the tone dies when the fire dies, and Tim carves a moving pocket of silence—right as Mark appears, knowing our history “too well.” We don’t confirm the theory; we test it: walk Mark past the border, drag the silence-bubble through a crowd, ink names on skin, and listen beneath a smokestack when the hearths go dark.
A chattering amulet reveals the truth about Cliff’s gear: the chainmail eats. A bargain is struck—nightly rations for protection—and Eddie the mimic joins the roster with a mouthful of spider husks. Debts paid, supplies restocked, and a new commission lands: an abandoned noble estate where “only the leader can reveal” the treasure.Dust, portraits, and skittering swarms give way to hidden levers, diary clues, and wrong shelves that wake ghosts. Then the corridor of mirrors cuts deep—visions of shame, threats of betrayal, promises and condemnations slipped into pockets. Blankets over glass, eyes down, nerves tight. At the end, one last mirror swings like a door… and a lock clicks open on the truth of the house.
Tracks one way, a scream the other—and a dead run into hard choices. The bears fall, the traveler doesn’t, and the true trail leads to a ruined temple where the Oracle sits behind a shimmering cage. Plans buckle under fire and mud as a young white wyrm crashes the field; parley turns to prayer, then to steel.
Help vaults the treeline—radiant blades, crackling force, and a barrier that finally breaks. The Oracle answers with flame, the wyrm falls, and the city breathes out: honors, coin, and keys to deeper stacks. Two quieter weeks follow—craft, research, and preparations for darker roads—while something small and wrong still gnaws at Cliff’s gear. The council’s summons looms.
Music: Charterhall by Sydney Fabel https://bradowens.bandcamp.com/album/blades-in-the-dark-by-john-harper-unofficial-ttrpg-soundtrack
Licensed under Scrybe Quill Context License
https://www.scrybequill.com/license
Tech first: we stopped relying on brittle automations, stabilized the rig by driving it manually, and took notes on what actually works on stream. The plan going forward is simple—lean setup, quick scene kits ready to drop (alleys, rooftops, back rooms), and a clear rule: if we’ll live in a space for more than a moment or it affects positioning, it goes on screen; otherwise theater of the mind keeps us fast.
Story second: rumors of people “returning unchanged” kept pointing us to Menest. Cliff’s shadow-mark grew more active, Tim’s tests confirmed it isn’t leaving without a fight, and the table kept walking the line between talking our way through and drawing steel when the clock ran out. We ended with our heading set: track the vanishings, find the crossing, and face what’s waiting in Menest.
The chase quickens. A scream off the trail, four bears in the mud, and a stranger who bleeds out before names can be exchanged. Pelts packed, nerves raw, the road leads to a smoking shrine—wagon, platform, and an iron-etched cage that won’t yield to gold fire.
Winged kobolds wheel, cultists conjure grasping arms, and the lock has no key to pick. Nilar drops, Kolut follows, Cliff sprints through flying stone to drag breath back, and Mecoo’s axe writes the line. Then the clearing shakes as a vast white shadow falls and a voice of ice asks: Who’s invaded my space? The rescue has become a reckoning.
Music: Street Skirmish (City Battle Theme) by Supernova Collective https://supernovacollective.bandcamp.comLicensed under Scrybe Quill Context Licensehttps://www.scrybequill.com/license
The Sacred Wyrmling is missing. Whispers lead from market stalls to slum alleys, an old seer drops a riddle, and a trail of clawed prints pulls the party beneath the trees.
In this recap: a quiet orphanage check-in, political stonewalling in the capital, a cave raid through kobolds and zealots, and one terrified captive who reveals the handoff: a carriage, two hours ahead. Press play and join the chase.