A fun story about D&D

[Stevetank]

One autumn day, just as the sun passed over the highest point in the sky, a band of bold adventurers spotted something at the bottom of a river. It was shiny, glittered with gold, and caught the eye of the party's bard. The river was flowing fast at this part, quickly sweeping away branches and leaves that had fallen into the river. The river's edge was 3' below the shore line as there was a steep drop to the water below. The glittering gold lie a full 6' under water. Normally this would be too much for normal people, but these were bold adventurers!

There was the bard, a little gnome not more than 3 feet in height. The wizard, who through his dealings with demonic forces had become part human and part demon. The warlock, who's ambitions had lead her to leave her kingdom in order to save humanity. Lastly, there was the cleric, who was not really sure why he was helping the others but could not find a reason good enough to leave them on their own.

They did as most adventures would do... immediately do something stupid without informing any of the others about what was going on. So the bard, who had spotted the shiny thing first, jumped on her magic flying broom and descended towards the water. Being only 3' tall, the bard attempted to hold on to her broom and grab the shiny thing below, despite the DM repeatedly telling the bard that it was 6' under water.

The wizard then noticed that the bard was missing and quickly headed towards the river to look for her. There he spotted the gnome who was carefully drowning herself in the cold water below. The wizard also spotted the shiny thing in the river and thus immediately gave up on trying to help the gnome and dove in the river, attempting to get the shiny first.

After a few seconds of digging, the wizard found that the shiny thing was attached to a large piece of wood. Digging some more, the wizard discovered that the piece of wood was part of a chest. Knowing that it would be impossible for the wizard to lift the chest out of the water, he levitated himself out of the river and back on to the shore line where the drenched bard waited.

The wizard then began chanting a magic spell which lifted the chest up out of the water and placed it next to him on the shore. The gnome sighed as the cleric and the warlock ran over to see what was going on, knowing that she would now have to share the treasure with everyone. Unfortunately the chest was locked and rusted tight.

"Pick it!", said the wizard to the bard. "Get it open and let's see what's inside."
"I don't know how to pick locks", the bard replied. "I doubt that I could sing it open."
"Punch it!", joked the cleric to the wizard, who's muscles were swollen with demon magic.
"Alright!", the wizard happily replied and prepared to punch the chest open. "20!", he shouted at the top of his lungs.

The DM noticed that his critical success would allow him to punch straight through the top of the chest but also warned that he would break exactly 1 item because of it. The wizard agreed and rolled for the number of items he would receive from the random loot table. 1, the wizard rolled. The DM then proceeded to make the wizard roll to see which magic table the wizard would be rolling on. The wizard rolled high. Excellent, the DM thought as he made the wizard roll one last time to see which item he would receive in pieces because he broke it with a mighty punch. The wizard rolled one last time and rolled high again. Staff of the Magi, the table concluded. So the DM read the description.

The Staff of the Magi was a legendary item, able to let a wizard or warlock cast many spells with its 50 charges, absorb magic, levitate, block in melee, and much more. At the bottom, the staff also had a special attack. The attack read: upon breaking the staff, all of the charges left in the staff would be released at the same time in an arcane explosion. To all within 10 feet of the staff, force damage will be taken in the amount of 16 times the number of charges on the staff. Everyone in the party was standing next to the chest when the wizard punched it.... resulting in everyone taking 800 damage.

And that's how everyone in the party died. Moral of the story is: 20's won't save your life either. They might just get you killed.

Side note: No idea how a 6' long staff was hiding in a 3' long chest, but I like my loot random so that's how I roll!

 

[StdDev]

?
but 1st!

 

[Ammorn]

How many nearby villages and cities were destroyed and how big was the cater?

Everyone roll 1d20 to see what plain of existence your soul goes to and we'll pick up the campaign from there.

 

[Ammorn]

I've got some stories I've came across on the interwebs about D&D stories.

http://www.brunchma.com/archives/Forum13/HTML/000133.html

Ladies and gents, for your ultimate amusement, I hereby give you the full tale of Eric and the Gazebo!
=============================================

Let us cast our minds back to the early days of Fantasy Role Playing, back when ye Dread Gygax was loose upon the land. Funny how humor and horror can start out so alike. Let us go still earlier (yes, it is permitted to breathe sighs of relief) to the days before Gygax (and the courts) thought that he owned FRP. In the early seventies, Ed Whitchurch ran "his game," and one of the participants was Eric Sorenson, a veritable giant of a man. This story is essentially true: I know both Ed and Eric, and neither denies it (although Eric, for reasons that will become apparent, never repeats it either). If my telling of it does not match the actual events precisely, it is because I've heard it many different ways depending on how much of what type of intoxicants Ed had taken recently.

The gist of it is that Eric, well, you need a bit more about Eric, or else I won't fill quota. Eric comes quite close to being a computer. When he games, he methodically considers each possibility before choosing his preferred option. If given time, he will invariably pick the optimum solution. It has been known to take weeks. He is otherwise in all respects a superior gamer, and I've spent many happy hours competing with and against him, as long as he is given enough time.

So, Eric was playing a Neutral Paladin (why should only Lawful Good religions get to have holy warriors was the thinking) in Ed's game. He even had a holy sword, which fought well, and did all those things holy swords are supposed to do, including detect good (random die roll; it could have detected evil). He was on some lord's lands when the following exchange occurred:

ED: You see a well groomed garden. In the middle, on a small hill, you see a gazebo.

ERIC: A gazebo? What color is it?

ED: (Pause) It's white, Eric.

ERIC: How far away is it?

ED: About fifty yards.

ERIC: How big is it?

ED: (Pause) It's about thirty feet across, fifteen feet high, with a pointed top.

ERIC: I use my sword to detect good on it.

ED: It's not good, Eric. It's a gazebo!

ERIC: (Pause) I call out to it.

ED: It won't answer. It's a gazebo!

ERIC: (Pause) I sheathe my sword and draw my bow and arrows. Does it respond in any way?

ED: No, Eric, it's a gazebo!

ERIC: I shoot it with my bow (roll to hit). What happened?

ED: There is now a gazebo with an arrow sticking out of it.

ERIC: (Pause) Wasn't it wounded?

ED: Of course not, Eric! It's a gazebo!

ERIC: (Whimper) But that was a plus three arrow!

ED: It's a gazebo, Eric, a gazebo! If you really want to try to destroy it, you could try to chop it with an axe, I suppose, or you could try to burn it, but I don't know why anybody would even try. It's a *)@#! gazebo!

ERIC: (Long pause. He has no axe or fire spells.) I run away.

ED: (Thoroughly frustrated) It's too late. You've woken up the gazebo, and it catches you and eats you.

ERIC: (Reaching for his dice) Maybe I'll roll up a fire-using mage so I can avenge my Paladin.

At this point, the increasingly amused fellow party members restored a modicum of order by explaining what a gazebo is. It is solely an afterthought, of course, but Eric is doubly lucky that the gazebo was not situated on a grassy gnoll...

=============================================
I should now probablyexplain that a gnoll is a monster straight outta the Fiend Folio...

A picture of a white Gazebo for those that aren't familiar with them.

 

[Ammorn]

http://www.blindpanic.com/humor/vecna.htm

Head of Vecna

From Steve Jackson Games website....

Many years ago (back when we all were still playing D & D), I ran a game where I pitted two groups against each other.

Several members of Group One came up with the idea of luring Group Two into a trap. You remember the Hand of Vecna and the Eye of Vecna that were artifacts in the old D&D world where if you cut off your hand (or your eye) and replaced it with the Hand of Vecna (or the Eye) you'd get new awesome powers? Well, Group One thought up The Head of Vecna.

Group One spread rumors all over the countryside (even paying Bards to spread the word about this artifact rumored to exist nearby). They even went so far as to get a real head and place it under some weak traps to help with the illusion. Unfortunately, they forgot to let ALL the members of their group in on the secret plan (I suspect it was because they didn't want the Druid to get caught and tell the enemy about this trap of theirs, or maybe because they didn't want him messing with things).

The Druid in group One heard about this new artifact and went off in search of it himself (I believe to help prove himself to the party members...) Well, after much trial and tribulation, he found it; deactivated (or set off) all the traps; and took his "prize" off into the woods for examination. He discovered that it did not radiate magic (a well known trait of artifacts) and smiled gleefully.

I wasn't really worried since he was alone and I knew that there was no way he could CUT HIS OWN HEAD OFF. Alas I was mistaken as the Druid promptly summoned some carnivorous apes and instructed them to use his own scimitar and cut his head off (and of course quickly replacing it with the Head of Vecna...)

Some time later, Group one decided to find the Druid and to check on the trap. They found the headless body (and the two heads) and realized that they had erred in their plan (besides laughing at the character who had played the Druid)...The Head of Vecna still had BOTH eyes! They corrected this mistake and reset their traps and the Head for it's real intended victims...

Group Two, by this time, had heard of the powerful artifact and decided that it bore investigating since, if true, they could use it to destroy Group One. After much trial and tribulation, they found the resting place of The Head of Vecna! The were particularly impressed with the cunning traps surrounding the site (one almost missed his save against the weakest poison known to man). They recovered the Head and made off to a safe area.

Group Two actually CAME TO BLOWS (several rounds of fighting) against each other argueing over WHO WOULD GET THEIR HEAD CUT OFF! Several greedy players had to be hurt and restrained before it was decided who would be the recipient of the great powers bestowed by the Head... The magician was selected and one of them promptly cut his head off. As the player was lifting The Head of Vecna to emplace it on it's new body, another argument broke out and they spent several minutes shouting and yelling. Then, finally, they put the Head onto the character.

Well, of course, the Head simply fell off the lifeless body. All members of Group Two began yelling and screaming at each other (and at me) and then, on their own, decided that they had let too much time pass between cutting off the head of a hopeful recipient and put the Head of Vecna onto the body.

SO THEY DID IT AGAIN!... [killing another PC]

In closing, it should be said that I never even cracked a smile as all this was going on. After the second PC was slaughtered, I had to give in (my side was hurting)...

And Group Two blamed ME for all of that...

 

[Ammorn]

 

[Ammorn]

 

[Ammorn]

Part 1

 

[Ammorn]

Part 2

 

[Printimus]

tis' a silly story

 

[Ammorn]

https://1d4chan.org/wiki/Sameo

Sameo

My Paladin was sitting alone in the tavern while the party was doing some disreputable thing they didn't want me knowing about, when a peasant came in to warn everyone to hide. Scouts saw the orc army that had been alluded to during the campaign was just a few hours march. The rest of the party had no idea and were away (and were actually getting killed by being stupid and being led into an obvious trap.) My Paladin character, who has been laughed at his entire life for one thing or another, stepped up with an air of determination that would have made the most epic veteran of many wars quiver. He told the guards how to set up the defenses as he rode off to prevent this town from being destroyed in any means he could.

This orc army had been devastating the lands. Since the beginning of the campaign we have heard about their Epic level Half fiend orc Fighter specced cleric of Orc God leading the campaign on his invulnerable Vampire Fang Dragon. His army of ten thousand marched to the town to claim it for their God.

And my level seven paladin rode off to stop their reign of fear and destruction here.

I met an orc scouting party and told them to go tell their boss to surrender. Otherwise this will be the last day he sees on this Earth. They laughed, so I fought and broke their squad and won the fight against the ten of them by being smart and getting lucky.

In the meantime, the rest of the party had wiped by falling in the most obvious of traps and getting backstabbed. I so wanted to scream at them for being so stupid and warn them, but I wasn't about to meta game.

So the DM concluded that the campaign was over. But I told him I wanted to continue, and if I died, I died, I would at least see the rest of the story be told damn it.

So there I was, at the edge of this forest, watching the orc army move past me.

I took out my bow, and fired a shot into the mass, killing something.

Then again.

And again.

Until they realized someone was killing them from the forest.

They sent in a group to find who it was. I hid from all of them, and killed anyone who found me. I continued shooting into the mass, and they sent more into the forest.

I continued this for a few more minutes, until finally I saw the vampire fang dragon in the sky flying towards the forest. He used some sort of fire breath attack for some reason and started burning down the forest.

I took pot shots at the dragon until I pissed it off something fierce.

I ran through the cover of the forest, and searched for a fallen sturdy log, and a high Y shaped tree bearing. I lifted the log using all of my strength to drag it onto the tree bearing. I fired flame arrows into the air to show the dragon where I was.

I mounted up as I saw it approach, and when it was close enough, I did something stupid. Compared to everything else, it really was.

I rode my warhorse up the log and jumped into the air as high as it could go and then jumped off, passing the necessary rolls to do so, and jumped on top of the dragon, grabbed the evil orc cleric's boot, and made him fall. In the meantime, the dragon bit me, doing a lot of damage and two negative levels. My horse died from its fall. I rolled to hit, and luckily, did max damage on my called shot to its wing, tearing it out. It plummeted to the forest below, staking itself into the trees.

In its death throes it breathed an everlasting curse against me and screamed to its master to avenge it, breathing fire everywhere.

And now in the clearing, I grogged in pain and attempted to heal myself while standing and watching through hazed eyes as the Half-fiend orc approached me, giant bone tower shield and great war axe in hand. I saw orc warriors circling the area.

The Orc warlord said something in orcish and the warriors stopped, circling us.

"I hope your ancestors grieve at the knowledge of the stupidity they have sired. You will die this day, and not even in death will you escape the fate that you will face. An eternity of pain beyond your comprehension awaits you. Your soul will be forever engulfed in suffering, knowing no release." as he heals himself and buffs himself up. "All you will find this day is death, and forever on.... only pain."

Initiative.

I win.

But I miss. So I draw back.

Move and attack, one attack hits, and brings me down to 15%.

I slam against a tree and am brought down to 4 hit points. I pass my fort save versus massive damage.

New round, I hold off my turn until he is close enough to attack, as he comes near.

"Feel accomplished, Paladin; you made this day memorable -- for myself at least. And I will make sure that there will be no one left to remember you, your name, or what you did here. That village will burn, and all within it will die. You are nothing but a stain on my blade. Nothing."

I knew it, this was it, there was no way I was going to live through this. Not even with a crit. I was going to die. But dammit, I was going down swinging.

So he spoke my Epitaph to my own thoughts and memories, detailing everything he knew, and why he had became a paladin, and even though everyone had laughed at him, and ridiculed him, that he would save them, even if they never cared, even if no one cared, or would ever care.

He walked up to deliver the final blow. And I screamed out loud and swung...

All hope resided on this die, I wanted some memorable scar to leave him with. Up to this point, this die I had used always failed me when it mattered the most. But I kept using it for the day that for all its bad luck, hoping it would one day churn out unbelievable luck and count at the right time.

So I rolled to make it spin, making it last forever. and it finally came out.. . . . ... .....

.......

It had rolled a 1.

I groaned and the DM laughed at me.

He told me to roll again to see how bad I fail.

I rolled again.

Another 1.

I groaned again. The DM laughed again, and told me to roll again. If I got another 1, I was dead.

I rolled and thought about how embarrassing it was going to be to die by my own hand.

... 1.

I sat there in complete pissiness and threw my die in the fucking trash as the DM laughed and consulted his book of critical failures.

He rolled his dice, referenced the book and froze.

"What, I decapitated myself didn't I?"

He didn't say anything.

"Well, what is it?"

He just looked up at me in a look of befuddlement and spoke words that I will never, ever, ever, ever forget.

"Character and adjacent target die."

 

[Ammorn]

I'll have to dig it up, but there was a reddit post I read a couple years ago called something like D&Darwin Awards where everyone posted the stupid and amazingly stupid ways they or the party died in D&D.

 

[Ammorn]

K, found it. Too many to copy pasta so I'll just link it here.

https://www.reddit.com/r/DnD/comments/1d5rnk/1000_ways_to_die_dnd_style/

Top reply:

Level 1 half-orc barbarian ate an ooze.

The DM responded with "Okay, roll a d100."

Barbarian responds "What kind of disease or whatever am I gonna get?"

DM response: "...It's for damage."

RIP Mogar

 

[Ammorn]

Hmmm, round 2 of 1,000 ways to Die in D&D.

https://www.reddit.com/r/DnD/comments/2d9obk/1000_ways_to_die_2nd_annual_dnd_darwin_awards/

 

[Stevetank]

Hmmm, round 2 of 1,000 ways to Die in D&D.

https://www.reddit.com/r/DnD/comments/2d9obk/1000_ways_to_die_2nd_annual_dnd_darwin_awards/

Ammorn.... I can't breathe..... I've only ever read like 2 of these and I think reading too many in an hour is hazardous for my health. OMG, dashing rogue bear!

 

[Ammorn]

Ammorn.... I can't breathe..... I've only ever read like 2 of these and I think reading too many in an hour is hazardous for my health. OMG, dashing rogue bear!

It's a good workout for your sides. So many utterly dumb and crazy stories. I remember my sides were hurting reading through the 1,000 ways to die in D&D.

 

[makute]

Back in the days... when the crew was still together and I had free time to play games, we roleplayed a lot: World of Darkness, Ars Magica, Legend of Five Rings, Call of Cthulhu, Fading Suns... amongst many others. So, as I deeply despise D&D, and to make sure everyone remembers (acknowledges) that there are hundreds of better RPGs out there, I'll contribute with a couple stories:

The first one is about the Call of Cthulhu. Good old Call of Cthulhu, not that D20 monstrosity.

So, the party arrives at the "Juju Store", a shady stablishment set in the shaddiest, dirtiest part of a slum, looking for clues about a cult that we suspects is hidding there. Sat in a rocking chair is an old black man who cheers at the party (picture a 40 kilograms, 110 years old uncle Remus) "Hi lads, ho'u'doing?". In response, the PI of the party (an ex-cop extremely tired of everyone's shit) grab the guy, throw him behind the bar and starts interrogating him. The old man is crying and sobing, of course, so the ex-cop draws a sawed off and points it to his leg: "Better loose that tongue mate...". The poor man screams in horror and a loud boom reverberates out of the store and through the alley.
Half old man's leg is gone. The other characters scolds Mr. Trigger Happy, as a group of locals is gathering outside the store. The party takes a glance above the bar and sees several fishy individuals (pun intended) driving the crowd into a lynching mob. After a brief exchange of words, the mob attacks the party, throwing stones and sticks inside the store trying to drive us out. A couple of cultist have guns, and it's a matter of time until someone with a grenade or a molotov show's up.

A member of the party is the bodyguard of another character, a diletant richboy, son of a notorious bussinesman (read, head of a mafia family). So the next thing the characters see is this slim, italoamerican guy, stylish pinstripe jacket, scar from temple to chin and tothpick hanging from the lip (110% gangster stereotype), calmly rising from behind our only cover, violin case in hand (yes, he carried a f*cking violin case everywhere).
Bullets and stones fly around him while he quietly open the case and assemble a .45 Thompson, drum magazine and all. We barely hear him humming a tune to himslef while he carves a path of fiery death and gore through the crazy mob and leads the party to salvation. I mean, the jaws of some primordial horror.

My second story is about Ars Magica, the BDMSE (Best Damn Magic System Ever). This time, the GM run an introductory session to every player, individually, in order to determine our background and skillset, instead of just choosing them from the manual.

So, we have this young lad, firstborne of a small noble house, trying to make himself a name while keeping his little sister off the stake. She is really a mage, a powerful one indeed, and is starting to draw some unwanted attention.
A noble from a rival house has seen lil'sis' cast some spontaneus magic, and would love to get both siblings on the witch barbaque, but lacks evidences for such an accusation. His B plan is to taunt the brother (he has a fame of being short-fused and temperamental) and make him to kick up a fuss at a public meeting.

A few days later, everyone is having fun at a feast in honor of the Duke. Rival noble's son (a nasty and unplesant twat) is making fun of our hero, waiting for a reaction. And he had it indeed. The hot-blooded brother, having enough of it, confronts his offender.

I'll make a small pause here to explain how combat rolls works in Ars Magica. In most situations, AM characters roll a D10 plus Attribute+Ability against a difficult ranging from 3 (easiest) to 9 (hardest) or more. In a combat situation (like this one), players make stress rolls, that means that a natural 0 is a fumble, and a natural 1 is a critical hit. In that case, the player rolls again and doubles the result. If another 1 is rolled, the player quadruplicates the result of the next roll, and so on, multiplying by eight, sixteen, thirty two, etc. To determine damage, the Armor+Stamina value of the target is deducted from the damage roll (usually D10 stress roll+weapon bonus+Strenght+previous To Hit roll result). Every 5 points of excess results in the loss of a health level (humans have 5 health levels). In an unarmed brawl, fatigue levels are lost instead, and once a character runs out of fatigue, starts losing health.

Back to the feast. Our hero sees everything through a red mist, approaches that stupid kid and, gnashing teeth, throws a kick. Rolls to hit against his unprepared foe and conects. Rolls damage and gets a 1, and another, and another, and another... This m*therf*cker gets a final roll of +60 damage, outright killing his foe with the most epic kick in the balls ever.

 

[Stevetank]

Back in the days... when the crew was still together and I had free time to play games, we roleplayed a lot: World of Darkness, Ars Magica, Legend of Five Rings, Call of Cthulhu, Fading Suns... amongst many others. So, as I deeply despise D&D, and to make sure everyone remembers (acknowledges) that there are hundreds of better RPGs out there, I'll contribute with a couple stories:

The first one is about the Call of Cthulhu. Good old Call of Cthulhu, not that D20 monstrosity.

So, the party arrives at the "Juju Store", a shady stablishment set in the shaddiest, dirtiest part of a slum, looking for clues about a cult that we suspects is hidding there. Sat in a rocking chair is an old black man who cheers at the party (picture a 40 kilograms, 110 years old uncle Remus) "Hi lads, ho'u'doing?". In response, the PI of the party (an ex-cop extremely tired of everyone's shit) grab the guy, throw him behind the bar and starts interrogating him. The old man is crying and sobing, of course, so the ex-cop draws a sawed off and points it to his leg: "Better loose that tongue mate...". The poor man screams in horror and a loud boom reverberates out of the store and through the alley.
Half old man's leg is gone. The other characters scolds Mr. Trigger Happy, as a group of locals is gathering outside the store. The party takes a glance above the bar and sees several fishy individuals (pun intended) driving the crowd into a lynching mob. After a brief exchange of words, the mob attacks the party, throwing stones and sticks inside the store trying to drive us out. A couple of cultist have guns, and it's a matter of time until someone with a grenade or a molotov show's up.

A member of the party is the bodyguard of another character, a diletant richboy, son of a notorious bussinesman (read, head of a mafia family). So the next thing the characters see is this slim, italoamerican guy, stylish pinstripe jacket, scar from temple to chin and tothpick hanging from the lip (110% gangster stereotype), calmly rising from behind our only cover, violin case in hand (yes, he carried a f*cking violin case everywhere).
Bullets and stones fly around him while he quietly open the case and assemble a .45 Thompson, drum magazine and all. We barely hear him humming a tune to himslef while he carves a path of fiery death and gore through the crazy mob and leads the party to salvation. I mean, the jaws of some primordial horror.

My second story is about Ars Magica, the BDMSE (Best Damn Magic System Ever). This time, the GM run an introductory session to every player, individually, in order to determine our background and skillset, instead of just choosing them from the manual.

So, we have this young lad, firstborne of a small noble house, trying to make himself a name while keeping his little sister off the stake. She is really a mage, a powerful one indeed, and is starting to draw some unwanted attention.
A noble from a rival house has seen lil'sis' cast some spontaneus magic, and would love to get both siblings on the witch barbaque, but lacks evidences for such an accusation. His B plan is to taunt the brother (he has a fame of being short-fused and temperamental) and make him to kick up a fuss at a public meeting.

A few days later, everyone is having fun at a feast in honor of the Duke. Rival noble's son (a nasty and unplesant twat) is making fun of our hero, waiting for a reaction. And he had it indeed. The hot-blooded brother, having enough of it, confronts his offender.

I'll make a small pause here to explain how combat rolls works in Ars Magica. In most situations, AM characters roll a D10 plus Attribute+Ability against a difficult ranging from 3 (easiest) to 9 (hardest) or more. In a combat situation (like this one), players make stress rolls, that means that a natural 0 is a fumble, and a natural 1 is a critical hit. In that case, the player rolls again and doubles the result. If another 1 is rolled, the player quadruplicates the result of the next roll, and so on, multiplying by eight, sixteen, thirty two, etc. To determine damage, the Armor+Stamina value of the target is deducted from the damage roll (usually D10 stress roll+weapon bonus+Strenght+previous To Hit roll result). Every 5 points of excess results in the loss of a health level (humans have 5 health levels). In an unarmed brawl, fatigue levels are lost instead, and once a character runs out of fatigue, starts losing health.

Back to the feast. Our hero sees everything through a red mist, approaches that stupid kid and, gnashing teeth, throws a kick. Rolls to hit against his unprepared foe and conects. Rolls damage and gets a 1, and another, and another, and another... This m*therf*cker gets a final roll of +60 damage, outright killing his foe with the most epic kick in the balls ever.

Sounds like a lot of fun. Must have kicked his balls out of the guy's mouth.

My first time ever playing D&D was a poor one. I was an elven fighter with a longsword and leather armor. We had to slay some orcs and we were already in combat by the time I finished my character. I didn't do so well up against the first orc, dropping my sword and having to punch him into submussion. The srvond orc I fought was also my last.

Charging up to the dwarf, I rolled a 20. In D&D 3.0, you rolled again to confirm your crits and we had a house rule to confirm critical fails as well. So I rolled again, another 20, then again for a 3rd 20. My first attack against this orc was going to be a triple critical and all I had to do is confirm the hit to kill him.

And then I rolled a 1, a critical fail, so I had to roll to confirm the fail, another 1, followed by a 3rd 1, then a 2. My character had essentially ran up to the orc, spun 180*, stabbed himself through the stomach, then proceeded to kill the orc by spinning Yoshimitsu style from Soul Calibur till we were both dead.

Nobody kills orcs like Stevetank does.

 

[DarthMatter]

This m*therf*cker gets a final roll of +60 damage, outright killing his foe with the most epic kick in the balls ever.

Isn't that how Grimgor Ironhide defeated Archaon?

 

[makute]

Yeah, basically :D

Ahh... the good times of 6th edition