(Scene: The Castle Gormogon game room. Tankards, rope, spores, and vodka litter the table. Six Gormogons sit with character sheets in hand, glaring and smirking at each other.)

Czar of Muscovy: “Da! My Experiences are clear. ‘The Pen Is Mightier… and I Own the Sword Too’ — because words AND war are mine. And ‘Ah Yes, I Was There When It Was Written’ — because I was, you miserable peasants. All law, all history, all conquest. Czar remembers, Czar was present.”

’Puter: “Ha! Mine are better. ‘Objection!’ — the rallying cry of justice, sarcasm, and booze. And ‘The Court Finds You Stupid.’ Self-explanatory, really. That covers every one of you idiots.”

GorT: “Predictable. My Experiences: ‘Access Granted’ — because doors, locks, and data all open for me. And ‘Terminate With Prejudice.’ Direct, efficient, final. Unlike ’Puter’s speeches.”

Volgi: sighs, tail flicking “My Experiences are suitably profound. ‘Still Right, Still Here’ — a testament to my survival and wisdom, which endure beyond centuries of mockery. And ‘According to the Text…’ — because precedent always supports me, even when reality disagrees.”

Mandarin: voice low, menacing “I chose ‘To the Last Gut-Boot.’ Self-evident. And ‘Never Again,’ a vow I made long before I met any of you. Wrath remembers. Wrath delivers.”

Dr. J.: “YES! Yes, mine are glorious! ‘Mushroom, Mushroom’ — for fungi are the answer to every question! And ‘Shocking Revelation’ — because force lightning cures all ills, or at least makes them more exciting!”

’Puter: “So, in summary: the Czar thinks he wrote history, Volgi thinks he is history, GorT is an overgrown lockpick, Mandarin’s a violent elf, Dr. J’s a spore factory, and I’m right. As always.”

Volgi: “Except when you’re not.”

’Puter: “Suck it, feline footnote. GorT, this adventure really sucks.”

GorT: “Ok, ‘Puter, can it, now we need to create connections for the party.”

Czar: “GorT! What favor have I asked that you cannot fulfill?”

GorT: “You told me to unlock a mirror-prison. That’s not a lock, that’s a physics problem. Rope doesn’t fix physics, Czar.”

’Puter: “Speaking of problems, Dr. J., what made you realize we’d be best friends?”

Dr. J.: “When you rhymed ‘spore poultice’ with ‘fear cultists.’ My fungi applauded, my lightning cheered. Destiny!”

Volgi: “Puter, why do you trust me so deeply?”

’Puter: “Because when I heckle a noble, you summon thunder to make the punchline land. You’re my special effects department.”

Mandarin: “GorT. You once saw me tithe. What did you see?”

GorT: “You gut-booted a cultist not to kill him but to feed your patron. I’ve flagged you ‘high-risk asset’ ever since.”

Czar: “Puter! What hobby do we both share?”

’Puter: “Commanding unwilling audiences. You bellow campaigns, I declaim limericks. Both forms of torture.”

Dr. J.: “Volgi! Remember that dream vision? What did I tell you?”

Volgi: “That if Hope falters, the Sister’s Embrace never ends. Eternal eclipse. Eternal Fear. I woke scribbling footnotes, still shaking.”

Mandarin: “Czar. My foolish moment — what was it?”

Czar: “You tried to command shadows like troops. Idiot. They laughed. I laugh still.”

GorT: “Volgi. What trouble did I get you into recently?”

Volgi: “You convinced me to scout the catacombs. We tripped wards, lanterns sputtered, half the harbor panicked. ‘Efficiency,’ you called it.”

Puter: “Czar, what do I do that annoys you?”

Czar: “Everything. Especially rhyming siege magic with peaches. I will burn you first.”

Volgi: “Mandarin, what did I do that makes you cautious?”

Mandarin: “You whispered back to the shadows during the eclipse. They whispered back. Wrath is dangerous. Curiosity is worse.”

Dr. J.: “Mandarin! What about my practice makes you uneasy?”

Mandarin: “Your spores sprout from wounds. My patron loves wrath, but even he finds that grotesque.”

Czar: “Volgi! What secret have you told only me?”

Volgi: “That if the Primal spark tips too far into Midnight, I may become something you’ll have to destroy. You promised you would, but you toasted vodka while saying it, so I doubt your follow-through.”

Puter: “GorT, why do you grab my hand at night?”

GorT: “So you don’t stumble into my rope traps muttering ‘suck it.’ Preventative maintenance.”

Mandarin: “Volgi. Why do I confide in you about my patron?”

Volgi: “Because I annotate, instead of running. Your patron’s madness is just another dialect of Midnight.”

Dr. J.: “Puter, why do you come to me for advice?”

Puter: “Because you’re the only lunatic who prescribes both gin and poultices in the same sentence — and means it.”

Tune in next time as this chaotic party launches into the campaign.

GorT

GorT is an eight-foot-tall robot from the 51ˢᵗ Century who routinely time-travels to steal expensive technology from the future and return it to the past for retroinvention. The profits from this pay all the Gormogons’ bills, including subsidizing this website. Some of the products he has introduced from the future include oven mitts, the Guinness widget, Oxy-Clean, and Dr. Pepper. Due to his immense cybernetic brain, GorT is able to produce a post in 0.023 seconds and research it in even less time. Only ’Puter spends less time on research. GorT speaks entirely in zeros and ones, but occasionally throws in a ڭ to annoy the Volgi. He is a massive proponent of science, technology, and energy development, and enjoys nothing more than taking the Czar’s more interesting scientific theories, going into the past, publishing them as his own, and then returning to take credit for them. He is the only Gormogon who is capable of doing math. Possessed of incredible strength, he understands the awesome responsibility that follows and only uses it to hurt people.