Buns on the grill, gods on read,
Milkshakes debating the fate of the dead.
Ancient evil? “Can it wait?”
Ketchup first—then seal the gate.
We flex on a stone slab, DC thirty like “sup,”
Vasuki, Kirk—double crits—temple glow-up.
No wedge planned, so Kirk turns hinge-prop,
Congratulations, champ—you’re now a doorstop.
Purple guardian hissing void-colored spit,
Radiant Sentinel nukes a crystal—one-shot crit.
Follow-up whiffs? Yeah, we’ve all been there,
Divine aim’s shaky when the stakes are rare.
Button to hold? Kirk’s on that grind,
Party speedruns puzzles—leaves him behind.
We’re flipping levers like a DJ set,
If patience’s a save—nat 20, no sweat.
Get splashed! Get divined!
Holy water, faster than tech support lines.
Exorcise that void with a healing cantrip shine,
“Get splashed! Get divined!”—corruption resigns.
Door-fu smash, radiant flash, treasure aligned,
Level up chime: from nine-nine-oh to one-thousand—we climb!
Aurelius’ stepping stones—dark to light,
Drain the pool, stairs say “right this way, knights.”
Murals confess: this place is R&D,
“Predict your dungeons!” (Except…they didn’t, see.)
Two void crystals pocketed—mint in box,
The third went poof in a beam of talks.
Dawnbreaker’s Chalice, a third of the key,
Need Noon’s Staff, Sacred Geometry.
Cantus jams buffs, anthem on loop,
Caithyra boom-booms elemental soup.
Geekaat flurries, Linn yeets décor,
Brazier to the face—seven bludge to the door.
Get splashed! Get divined!
We heal, we peel, we un-corrupt your mind.
Snack-fund jar, pinkies high, be kind,
“Get splashed! Get divined!”—receipt itemized.
Sweet rolls, Dr. Pepper berry-spiced,
Door-fu certified, ancient evil downsized.
We knock. “Parley?” High priest says nope,
Divine Lance to Kaluulah—face tanked, soap.
Ignition flickers, HT Sphere sparks,
Magus strikes thunder, lights up the dark.
Zariel, math-free, “Force Barrage: send,”
Automatic feelings hurt—boss meets end.
Petroglyph lesson, radiant burn,
“Dawn ain’t first”—okay, now we learn.
+1 Striking Mace: gently used by regret;
Treasury coin: count it, don’t get wet.
Alchemical stash, research worth two-hundred G,
Five bags of holding?—committee says “We’ll see.”
Cats on the table—dice-roll auditors,
Nox, Mochi, Cid, Nori—furry provokers.
Slut Squad scoreboard, “tank-tickle” plan—
Look, it worked; don’t @ the game-tan.
Get splashed! Get divined!
From door-rips brutal to enlightenment lines.
Three-artifact saga? We just found one of the signs—
Noon’s Staff, Sacred Codex—next quest assigned.
Hit level three as the GM hits pause,
Surgery break—cooldown clause.
When we resume? Rift-closing time.
‘Til then—raise your chalice, and shout the line:
“Get splashed! Get divined!”
Door-Fu forever, baby—temple re-designed.