Dirtface reaps what she sews (??), and Henry levels up hard

That girl from previous entry got all jazzed about the idea of a potion of double size dick (currently possessed by the now level four wizard Mop of the Hot Rock), and made this for us.

In the meantime -

Thomson: "OMG WHAT HAPPENED DID THE LIZARD PEOPLE DISCOVER THAT WE'D BURNT SOME OF THEM TO CRISPS DID THE SKELETON ARMY CRASH THROUGH THE WALLS HAS ALL FLESH BECOME ONE FLESH DID UNDEAD DEB SEEK VENGEANCE UPON US HAS THE DUKE OF AMALGAMATION MADE HIS PLAY HAS THE KING IN GREEN DOOMED US WITH HIS SORCERY HAVE THE FROG PEOPLE BEEN GIVEN "THE DARK KISS" BY FRANCIS GNASH IS VISTULA OHN ALSO A WITCH SISTER IN DISGUISE AHHHHH"

Henry: "We got stoned with some lizard people, bluffed our way into some sweet new lizard crystal breastplates and had the archbishop Aagisss perform the RIte of Tiamat and foretell ~100 attack rolls against the angry wind god who roosts in the chambers of Izorides not far from the lizard domain."

Thomson: "oh my god i love you guys"

 Henry is becoming an extremely savvy player.

"So the giant lizardman lounging by the fire is accompanied by five carrion crawlers.  Their tentacles probe the air in your direction."

"Hail lizardman! What is your name? How much are you selling those carrion crawlers for?"

"My name is Ttiist and uhh well I raised them myself from grub and trained them with the meat of the living to do my bidding . . . so . . . maybe 800."

"Oh that's out of my price range."

After Shayne got the lizardman guards stoned with some elf weed he found in some dungeon maybe a year ago, they learn that one of the lizardman camp's primary defenses are their hooded basilisks.

"How many do you have? How much are you selling the basilisks for?"

"Only the three, and they belong to Aagiss, so I don't know, but probably priceless."

Then he met the heavily bejeweled and generally annoyed Bishop Zegis in the bottom chamber of the giant ram statue, who preferred to be pruning the magnificent jeweled armors rather than talking to thick-tongued surface interlopers.

"What beautiful armor you have! How are they made? What would you part with them for?"

Mop: "Can we PLEASE kill something?" (Pokes at her phone)

A couple good bluff rolls later, and after trading two potions of insanity and the shining eye of a long-dead priest to Tsathoggua, who was transformed into a malicious slime, but whose jeweled eye still remained amid the slop, Dirtface and Johann the Jotund have two crystal breastplates, and continue to gaze longingly at the forces and monsters of the lizardmen of great Sereth.  I don't think they've engaged in combat for two sessions now.  I hope Velrathi, the Eight Thousand Seven Hundred Thirty Fifth God of the Winds skewers them with his cruelly hooked beak.