Day one of the Central Texas Mini-Con was thoroughly enjoyed by this humble (and slightly besotted) author yesterday--who for a refreshing change was not saddled with being DM.
Norm of Troll and Flame graciously ran his extended dance mix version of the Caves of Chaos , the famed dungeon portion of the old chestnut module, B2: Keep on the Borderlands. And an aptly-named dungeon it was for this particular session as little "c" chaos (accompanied by much biergarten ambient noise) seemed to rule the day. Seven players, a number of whose characters were Chaos-lining themselves, kept the DM busily engaged marshaling our somewhat anarchic high-jinks.
Perhaps a bona fide session report (noting Norm's use of fellow Austinite Trollsmyth's death and dismemberment table and other fun bits) will be in order later, but for now some of my pictures of said foray.
Artfully-drawn portrait of Mohagg the Wanderer (and yes, I did rip his name straight from the B1 pre-gen list), my own trident-toting, oily-mustached scalawag of a thief. Though 3d6 in order left him puny, stupid, and lacking all charisma, with a Dex of 16 and four mighty hit points he was a giant among men. Note the seven copper and one silver worth of mighty booty he had managed to lift from the bodies of dastardly Molemen and Kobolds in the first few hours of the game.
The gruff, tribal Molemen chief appoints San Antonian Bradeep's psycho Chaotic dwarf their new "ogre" after the party made quick work of the previous office holder. Unfortunately, the orc-blood-drinking, head-collecting even-more psycho Chaotic magic-user, admirably played by the fellar in the center, ruined our new-found status by throwing a sleep spell at the chief. The Molemen obliged the mage's erratic behavior by duly killing him and placing his head on a pike.
Fortunately, our fearless, young leader, elected for his decisive, experienced hand, shown to the right, navigated us through many a danger such as this. Barely.
Above-mentioned "Chaos mage" responding to being swindled out of a hefty 100 silver pieces by your fair author, who sold him a clerical scroll he found beneath the ogre's stinking bedchamber.
The fighter to his left managed to not only have his original PC die abandoned in a grey ooze-ridden cave, but have his twin brother fall too in a final fight with ape-like orcs. A fight that forced many a roll on the death and dismemberment chart for all of us. Good times in my hometown.