Our adventurers were getting their crunk on in the Welcome Wench and attracted the attention of a few scruffy-looking schrees at the bar. These newbie neer-do-wells had the audacity to suggest they should be allowed to join the party. For a few under the table favors their dreams of professional skull-thuggery were realized and they took off toward the Swamps of Chaos to kill smurfs [Xvarts].
Many steps were retraced through the cave maw and many Detect Trap checks were fumbled until, once again, our heroes faced the inpenetrable bulk of a highly electrified door. After numerous probes, prods, and sensual strokes, Ftr/Mu/Clr of Kord began to perceive this as a situation in which size really did play a crucial role. Casting Embiggen on the door caused it to shatter into a half dozen gnarled panels, sending a shower of sparks dancing across the party's shiny helms.
They wandered up dark stone stairs, careful to stay in the newly clean-swept areas of floor where some poor blue soul had recently been dragged. Salty kicked in a barred wooden door and stormed into the room beyond with Steve, the apprentice fighter, near at hand, sword gleaming in the tepid torchlight.
The sound of puppies had tempted them, and had especially peaked the interest of one H.C. Johnson; but only death waited. Death, not cute puppies as "guy who got killed latter" would discover. The adventurers were quickly overcome by an unending stream of gnolls and gnollettes. A haunting laughter echoed off the walls behind as the trap was sprung. Surrounded, "guy who got killed latter", pious Cleric though he was, found no sanctuary as he was torn assunder between the slobbery, dulled jaws of a dozen angry gnolls (whose blasphemous coupling had most likely just been disturbed by the party's untimely arrival.)