Jed as Gargrim the Dwarf Fighter
Eric as Rurik the Dwarf Druid
Scott as Donaar the Dragonborn Barbarian
Me as the merciless DM


The two girls and the party’s leader were absent on this day leaving only these three young men to go at it alone. What could go wrong? These guys are close friends and without the more sensible players to deter them from their usual foolish antics, they ended up in a heap of trouble.

The players were feeling invincible after defeating a group of orcs and an ogre. They had been fooling around all session, insulting a banshee’s appearance and decapitating the slain ogre in order to drag its rotting head around as a satirical trophy through the blistering summer weather.

They came across a non-hostile necromancer who was studying a ruin. Though surrounded by undead minions, he was willing to speak with them. He requested their help in a quest but having no superiors to put an end to their rampage of jokes, the trio decided they didn’t want to work for a necromancer and so they debated on whether to kill him and loot his camp. In a sudden turn of events, Jed decided that his dwarf didn’t want to risk the fight after not fully recovering from the previous one. I thought that perhaps the trio had decided to put an end to their antics however, they conversed and formed a new strategy. The dragonborn barbarian’s player, Scott thought it’d be hilarious to throw the festering ogre head at the necromancer’s tent. Knowing that the undead were slow to move, the trio would run off giggling, leaving a bloody mess for the necromancer to clean up.

They waited for the necromancer to return to his tent, barely able to stifle their laughter then tossed the head over the undead guards and onto the stone tiles outside the necromancer’s tent. The loosely attached flesh peeled off and splattered outside the tent and the trio began laughing aloud, turning before sprinting in the other direction.

Unfortunately the necromancer cast a hold spell on Scott’s dragonborn which froze him in his tracks. I smiled and said, “roll initiative”. A bloody fight ensued which ended up with Eric’s druid and Scott’s dragonborn bleeding out and dying. Since Rurik the druid was closer to him, Jed made Gargrim grab hold of him and flee. Unfortunately for Donaar the dragonborn barbarian, he was raised as a minion of the undead and wanders aimlessly along the Sword Coast to this very day.

Needless to say, when the other three players returned they were not happy to hear that one character was dead and the other had to be resurrected, costing them a fortune in gold.

What’s the moral of this story?

Never throw ogre heads at necromancers.



By: Shikenkan

Violence Becomes Us

We were playing a custom variation of DnD. Mostly the same but with simpler character creation and some different classes and abilities. We needed to get into a Keep in the woods with guards at every entrance without one of them raising the alarm.


Jason – The Ranger
Derek – The Rogue
Robert – The Druid
Nick – The Barbarian
Sharda (me) – The Healer

Now I’m not saying I have violent tendencies… but when playing a game I like to knock heads and blow things up. Knowing this the DM assigned me the Healer class to “broaden my character range”. His Healers were not allowed to pick up any weapons, not even a knife. His rationale for this was because the character was so weak. The only “weapon” at my disposal was a very large tome of spells I kept on me and was enchanted to allow me to lift it. No damage spells, buff and heal only. I was a little sore at the handicap but trying new things can be fun so I went with it.

The plan was simple. Two guards stood at the least protected entrance. If we took down one and not the other they would blow their horns and we’d be dead. Solution? Why take the risk of missing a role when you can split them up? The Barbarian seeing this as a stealth mission choose to stay in the woods we were watching the castle from. I was to get the one guard away from his post, and let the Rogue deal with him, while the Ranger and Druid took care of the other.

We waited until nightfall. I played the lost girl in the woods and asked if someone could escort me if not to the village I was looking for, then at least to the main road. One of the guards agreed and away we went. The Druid tried to pull off a fancy maneuver, and ended up snapping his own neck before the action even began. Multiple critical fails and too much show does that to a character. Luckily the luck all went to the Ranger who natural 20’d his shot and killed his guard instantly. His job being done, the Ranger kicked back and decided to wait until the rest of us returned… Don’t mind us, we’ll be fine… luck stealing bastard…

Back to the Healer and guard escort. I pretend to trip and ask for the guard to give me a hand up. This gives the Rogue a chance to come up from behind. He chose to use a black egg (basically a smoke bomb you crush in your hand and blow powder towards your enemy) containing a paralyzing agent. The Rogue fails the roll and the wind blows the black egg powder away, but making enough noise to alert the guard. So their stands our Rogue, exposed and panicking. He makes a few more attempts to take down the guard before he sounds the alarm but is met by failing roll after roll. I was getting frustrated at this point, feeling very powerless, barred from attacking and itching to join the fray. So I did.

IRL – I turned to the DM and asked “So how big is my tome again?” he told me it was two feet by one foot and a good six inches thick. “Is it decorated?” he tells me yes, with metal on the cover and around the trim. “Excellent! I whack the guard over the head with it.” He couldn’t think of a reason to stop me from attacking so though he wasn’t happy about it, it was done and the dice were cast.

I got something like an 18. Down went the guard, dazed but still conscious. The Barbarian charged from the woods and gave the poor guy another good lump to the head to rectify that.

We eventually made it into the castle and completed our mission.

Moral of the story? Don’t be flashy but be creative. You’ll live longer.


By: BloodyTrollop

The Level 10 N00b And A Dragon

I had played roleplaying games before. That was Call of Cthulhu though. Which is a very, very, very different lore system from D&D. A friend of mine from the Cthulhu group also played in a D&D campaign. I’d never tried D&D before and asked if I could 1 shot (at the least) and maybe stick around. They said yes, and I showed up early to roll up a character with the DM. I was a turtle guy druid, and after gearing up. I had a whole 2 gp to my name.

The Cast (can’t remember player names or races)

Arthur: DM
Conner: Playing a rogue and fighter
Liam: Monk (who has started a cult to Cthulhu, guess who I knew?)
James: Paladin. Very by the book. The book could be an asshole though.
Arthurs Dad: Gnome wizard or sorcerer. He conjured rings of fire protection for party member so that he could just napalm the hell out of everything.
Erik(Me): Turtle guy druid

So they start me out at level 10 and give me a reason to join up with the adventurers when they returned to town during a dungeon crawl. Now I’ve always heard that a first time D&D player is very likely to almost or succeed in getting himself killed level 1. This problem does not fix itself with levels, we’ll get there.

So we are derping through the dungeon. There are some traps, but its like 90% completed (which I don’t know) and we come to a room piled way to the ceiling with treasure. The gnome wizard was in another room for a reason I can’t remember. The rogue goes exploring for things to take and this giant scaled claw just reaches over a pile of gold and nabs him. He failed the reflex check. So now this huge red dragon is staring us down. Not being the nicest of fellows it said it would let us leave alive if we left all our gold. (I later found out red=chaotic evil) My allies instantly take off their money pouches and throw them down.

Ignoring this, I reason that a dragon that big isn’t going to be able to get into this itty bitty hallway and turn around to start walking away. Everyone stares at me. Arthur exhales deeply and says, “Man I don’t have enough d6 for this.” So we roll initiative. And the monk is the only one to leg it in time to get out of the breath weapon. The breath weapon that takes EVERYONE to negative health. The monk does eventually get to the wizard and they cut a deal to give all the wizard’s gold in exchange for retrieving all of the unconscious people.

To add insult to injury the dragon still took my 2 gp


By: ChucklingBoy

Learn From Our Mistakes

So me and some of my friends decide to start a Pathfinder campaign on Roll20.  We’re pretty inexperienced save the DM, but we’re all psyched.

Our party:
Jace Fairis, the Cleric of Aleria.  18 wisdom from the start, more heals than hairs on his head.  Hits things with a hammer when things get personal.
Sincion, the Ranger.  Takes any job, doesn’t care much what it is.  Doesn’t talk much.
Slenamin, the Ninja.  Standard revenge backstory, needs money.  Similarly doesn’t talk much.
William, the Knight.  Armor class of approximately infinity, nothing seems to hurt him much.

At least, that was the plan.

Our first quest-like object: clear out a tower.  Sounds simple enough.  We enter the tower, and our first perception checks find a secret door with two magical lines leading to the east and west.  We check the east, and see a large collection of statues – which, going off intuition, we guessed would come alive if we made a wrong choice.  So we instead turned to the west, and found a room full of a putrid odor.  Inside is a dog, pig, and skunk, all of which seem very hungry, and proceed to attack us.  We figure, “this ought to be easy.”  The Knight goes in first, then the Ninja behind him (with his reach weapons he could hit the dog from outside of the room), the ranger standing back to shoot, and me (the cleric) taking up the rear in case of any injuries.

We make relatively quick work of the dog, with the Knight taking absolutely no damage, but being sickened by the Skunk.  But after that, we come across a string of infuriatingly bad rolls in which we, one after another, either miss completely, don’t do any damage, or actually hit our allies, without hitting any of the remaining animals once.  But we practically have taken no damage either.  Unfortunately, the Ranger’s rolls a natural 1, and he was shooting an arrow.  This arrow ricochets off the wall, and bounces straight into the room where the stone statues are.  And a giant stone statue immediately walks through the door of that room (which we conveniently forgot to close.)

This guy is clearly way higher level than us (who are level 1).  The Cleric (me) decides to use spiked fists from the Plant cleric domain to make his melee attacks deal lethal damage (and also slightly more damage), and then use Mighty Fist of the Earth to do an unarmed strike at a distance.  I explain this as coating the rock fist in spikes before throwing it at the golem.

I then proceed to roll another awful roll – something like a 5 or below – and the fist bounces off his chest.  But I have just hit him in the face with a large rock.  So he’s pissed.  He then walks across the room, and clubs me across the face, knocking me unconscious in one hit and leaving the rest of the party with no healer.  The Knight runs through the room with the animals (who have proven themselves completely unable to do any damage to him), dives over the Ninja’s head, and smacks the Golem across the face with his sword – this, too, does no damage, thanks to a rolled 6.  The Ninja moves forward simply to be standing over me so I don’t get trod on, and stabs the Golem in the chest – this, too, does no damage, thanks to yet another abysmal roll (RNGsus was not on our side, I said afterwards).  He also yells to the Sergeant who had led us here.  “SERGEANT!  WE FUCKED UP!”

The Sergeant doesn’t reply.  The walls are stone – of course he doesn’t.

The Ranger takes a shot, and actually does some damage – which only seems to infuriate the thing.

It’s the Golem’s move, and he smacks the Ninja out of the way with one move, nearly taking all his health off.  He then proceeds to smash the ground and turn all the lights off, disappearing by the time they come back up.  They have to make untrained heal checks to revive me – but for once we get semi-lucky and they can pull me back so I can heal myself back up.

The first thing we do?  Close the damn door.  Lesson learned.

So we finish off that pig and skunk – we finally manage to get some decent rolls and take them out.  After some looting of the room, we open the next door, which leads to an empty hallway.  Now this, obviously, screams trap to me.  So the Knight goes in.  Nothing happens.  The Ninja follows.  I stand back, wary.  The Ranger is about to enter, but stands in the doorway, hesitant.

The door proceeds to slam shut.  The Knight and and Ninja are trapped inside – the Ranger has to roll a reflex check to see if he dodges the door or not, which he passes.  He decides to dive in instead of out (for some ungodly reason.)  I, obviously, don’t make it in – getting trapped outside of the hallway.

A ghost proceeds to appear in the middle of the room, and a fire erupts around them – dealing 1 damage every turn that passes.  And they can’t open the door.

I can’t see anything, but I have a general idea from the heat I can feel coming through the door – I, having high wisdom, get away with assuming there must be a fire.  So I use the level 0 spell Summon Water through the door, to try to help.  This only creates a load of steam, obstructing everyone’s vision.

They, in turn, spend a few turns panicking and trying to attack the ghost (which, obviously, fails).  They give up on that and try to bash one of the doors in.  But we can’t do nearly enough damage, thanks to (again) our shitty-ass rolls.

The Ranger, out of sheer despairing, decides to try to shoot a hole through the door, or something.  But then proceeds to roll a 1, and fires the arrow straight through the keyhole (despite the fact that the keyhole is smaller than an arrow).

Eventually, the Ninja collapses on the floor unconscious, which seems to appease the ghost – it vanishes, and with it the fire.  I open the now-unlocked door, and use channel energy to heal everyone up.

From then on, we had the cleric always get in a room before we proceeded.  Lesson learned.

But the real lesson?  Roll better.  Especially you, ranger.


By: Jace Fairis

The All Guardsmen Party: Origins Part 3

Our evac finally came, and what was left of our regiment started the final retreat. There were a few valiant last stands, but most of us got into the shuttles.

We were equal parts pissed and terrified as our DM described shuttle after shuttle being destroyed. The Regimental Commander’s bird was nailed early, so were the bigger shuttles with the vehicles. He didn’t say who was in most of the other shuttles, just rolled his dice and removed them from the board as they fell. It was heartbreaking.

Finally there was only one shuttle left and even though the Tyranid fliers swarmed it none of their shots seemed to hit and it started to climb out of the atmosphere. Then we were away, the fliers broke off and that one shuttle was headed for its fleet transport free and clear.

Inside the shuttle our last set of characters were trying to figure out what was going on. There were about fifty guardsmen crammed into a twenty man shuttle, and everyone was trying to figure out what was happening. Everyone had heard the Tyranid fliers, and everyone had heard when we hit space. The guardsmen close to the cockpit relayed what they could overhear from the pilots radio, so everyone knew that the other shuttles had been attacked, but no one was sure exactly what happened. In any case everyone was happy to be alive and looking forward to getting off the crowded shuttle when the shuttle stopped. The guardsmen near the cockpit relayed that they were being redirected to a different transport.

When the shuttle docked and everyone piled out we found ourselves in a completely empty loading bay. We were ordered via the speaker system to form up by rank for inspection and at this point our DM gave us a list of the guardsmen who were on the shuttle. Every single PC who had survived a battle had been on the shuttle along with a few other grunts, all 37 of our beloved characters had lived (with the exception of the artillery crew we played, but fuck those guys, teamkilling fucktards.)

We formed up, and after a bit of waiting the doors opened and a few storm troopers marched in and instructed us to drop our weapons. There was a bit of argument on this point, until the captain of the stormtroopers pulled out an Inquisitorial Rosette and told us we were currently “guests” of the Ordos Xenos. After we were done pissing ourselves and disarming, an acolyte and a team of medicae entered. We were informed that our Regiment had been disbanded, we were officially dead, and we would all be subject to scan for genestealer infection.

At this point our DM ended the session, handed us copies of the Dark heresy corebook and a list of our surviving PCs (with all the filler grunts crossed off) and told us to pick our characters for the next game.

Yeah, so that’s how our DM does backstories. Motherfucker.


By: suptg

The All Guardsmen Party: Origins Part 2

We were taking a city this time, and once again our regiment acted as the cannon fodder. We secured and pushed, and secured and pushed, and died and died and died. We decided we’d take the Orks back any day, at least with them it was obvious who the enemy was and their snipers and heavy weapons teams were NOTHING compared to what we were fighting here. We were higher level this time and better at the game, but still we died in droves leaving only a few PCs alive when our regiment was stood down while a veteran regiment took the lead.

Once again we got to see the nice little map of our progress, and we got a warm fuzzy feeling when we saw how our stubborn defense of one building had crippled an enemy advance, but we were exhausted. Our DM pressed us to play fast and make new characters faster, we would roll up Lil Jimmy who lied about his age to enlist, then have him bleeding out in a pile of rubble within 15 minutes. it drained us. We were actually glad to take the evening off from playing and just watch movies and shit.

The final day of our marathon started with more Orks, but this time we won. That’s not to say we didn’t die like frogs in a blender, but we fucking won. We pushed them out of their barricades, and hounded them across the plains when they routed. I played a gunner in a salamander during the chase and mowed down greenskins like ugly blades of grass. We partied like champs in the bumfuck town we liberated, and settled in for a few months of boring garrison before we got redeployed. Then we fought some Tyranids.

It was only a splinter fleet so we actually had a chance, but it was hell. Our regiment was defending an evac point on some grassy agri-world and it was trench work again. We burned off the grass to clear lines of fire, dug ourselves into the rich soil, set up the heavy weapons and watched the edge of the burn area like hawks (Trigger-happy hawks as it turned out, we wound up failing a spot-check and killing the first few retreating PDF to come through the grass). When the Tyranids came it was ridiculous. We mowed down wave after wave of Gaunts, but unlike Orks, Tyranids don’t lose morale and break, they just keep coming as fast as you can kill them. We stopped using actual dice for a while, just so we could roll combat faster.

The bastards in command (see DM) had decided to do a “Collapsing Defense” where we fought until the front trench was collapsing, then shelled the bejeezus out of it while the survivors retreated. We lost something like 20 PCs to our own gorram shells, but it really did work pretty well, at least until we ran out of ground to give. All the civvies were out, it was just a few regiments of guards crammed into a spaceport completely surrounded by the swarm killing them off as fast as possible and hoping either reinforcements or evac would come down before ammo ran out.

Things started to get bad when the higher forms of Tyranid started appearing. Gaunts and Gargoyles are bad enough, but it was when the Warriors showed up that we started taking serious casualties. However the evacs shuttles had started to ferry men up and we had some actual air support, unfortunately our regiment was going to be the rear guard. The end was in sight and morale was holding up well, right until we encountered a Lictor brood, then things started to fall apart. I hate Lictors, I fucking hate them, we played three backline squads in a row and each one was torn to bloody shreds by those sneaky bastards without us landing a kill. We started to rout, but our Commissar and his guards went into the breach and killed one of them and we shouted the regiment back into position.


By: suptg

The All Guardsmen Party: Origins Part 1

Our DM can be a little bit evil.

Last weekend our group got together for a marathon session to start a new campaign in a new system. Upon arrival we were all given copies of the Only War sourcebook and told to build a regiment, then build grunt level characters, then make a few backup characters. Now our DM runs what we refer to as “High Mortality Games” (in our several year-long DnD game so many PCs died that our GM actually appears on the “Hitler Scale” of death measurement) and we were all familiar with the nature of a guardsman’s life, so each of us made a bunch of backups and didn’t get too attached to any of our characters as we wrote them. No special snowflakes here.

Our regiment was mustered, our characters met and trained, and we were deployed to fight some Orks. We learned the system in a few skirmishes, and commiserated when one or two characters rolled poorly or fucked up and bit the dust. Then we were marched out to the trenches, given our piece of the line, and the battle started.

We had expected some sort of priority mission. We had expected to be the heroes who went in behind the enemy, or were dispatched to save a key position, or led the valiant charge. Instead we were put in a bloody trench and told to Hold The Line.

The Orks came, and we killed them.

The Orks came again, and we killed them again, but now we were low on ammo.

The Orks came again, and some of us died.

The Orks came again, and brought a tank and the rest of us died, except for me, I ran.

The first session ended there, with our first (sorta) set of characters dead in the trenches. We agreed it was a proper introduction to the life of a 40k guardsman, and got ready for the next days session where we expected to finally be sent on our mission.

The second session started with us watching my characters execution by the Commissar. Then we were put back in the same bloody trench and told to Hold the Line. We did better this time, we actually held out long enough for fresh ammo and reinforcements to come up, but in the end we died. Then we brought up new characters and did it again in another part of the trenches.

Then again.

Then again.

We were rolling up characters between turns now, either to bring in as reinforcements, or for when we had to start-up as a new unit. Very rarely we would survive long enough to be rotated to the rear, or take a non-fatal injury and get evaced, usually we all died. Finally after 3 in-game days and something like 100 PC deaths, we were told to Charge.

We bitched hard when we heard this, it was a fucking death sentence. Our characters had done well this time, we were all still alive and ammo levels were good, we knew we could have held out much longer in our nice safe trenches. Our DM asked us if we wanted to lodge our complaints In Character, so we shut up and Charged. We died like fucking animals.

We fought on the left flank of the charge, then on the right, then got to play our first armored characters in the center. When the charge failed we played as a basilisk crew covering the retreat. Then our regiment was rotated off the front.

Our regiment had lost a third of its strength in that first engagement. Out of over 100 PCs, about 10 lived, and five of those were artillerymen who never saw the enemy. We were shown the battlemap, we were shown where our squads held or failed, we were shown how our charge weakened the enemy for the fresh (and much more valuable) reserve troops to come up and break them. We were given a summary of the next few months of light skirmishes and mustering, then we were sent into battle against Traitor Guard.


By: suptg

I Said…

Scene: Thay in Forgotten Realms, at an auction for some items, one of which we need to retrieve (a hammer). There’s also a slaver lord we’re supposed to assassinate. Party is split into 3 parts, our cleric of Sune and her patron are in the private vault, the gnome rogues and the druid’s animal companion are in the main auction room, and the druid and I are (rogue/sorcerer/fighter/gold dragon disciple with 24 Int and 4 Wis) in the courtyard looking over the slaves. We’re polymorphed to look human (Thay after all) and the magical auras are damped to throw off detect magic/arcane sight. When we go into the auction, our weapons are wired shut, the gnome rogues disable theirs surreptitiously, but I have mine wired shut still.

Fight has started, priestess of Sune uses greater command. “Kneel!”. About 1/3 fail in the private vault. Recover spell with item, cast again. “I said, ‘Kneel!'” All but 2 fail in her section.

My section is going, the druid has freed 2 of the angel slaves. I’ve gone to one of the guards and try to rip his sword out of his hand with improved disarm.

“Give me that sword!”

I fail. I try again.

“I said, ‘give me that sword!'” Success. Last attack, I toss the sword to one of the angels.

The rogues fail to kill the slave lord and he runs through the courtyard to escape. I spot him and use my bluff skill.

“You coward! Don’t run away, we haven’t finished the job yet!” Some of the guards fall for it and try to stop him, but he escapes.

In the private vault, the 2 who didn’t fail their saves grab an urn that has the 1000 souls of an undead army in it. This turns out to be a cleric of Bane and his minion. They run out through the courtyard, but run out of movement.

My character has great folklore, knowledge religion and appraise, so he recognizes the urn as an evil artifact. My next round, I run over and disarm the urn from the cleric.

“Give me that!”

Using haste, I run over and give it to the other freed angel.

Cleric of Bane’s turn comes. He casts hold person on me. I critically fail. He casts hold monster on the angel with the urn, she fails. His minion runs to the angel and takes the urn. DM says he coup de graces me. I point out that it’s a full-round action to coup and he decides to just run off with the urn with his haste action.

Fight going okay in other two sections, with cleric of Cylindra giving the cleric and her patron some issues, but nothing major. The rogues move into the private vault to help and/or loot.

I use a mental action with an item to cast dispel evil on the hold person on me. Kip up and chase after the cleric of Bane’s minion. By the time I reach him, I only have a haste action left.

“I said, give me that urn!” I rip the urn out of his hands again with improved disarm and then we have to stop for the night due to time.

Can’t wait for next session.


By: Pookha

Dead Dwarves

As a DM, some of the most hilarious moments in my homebrewed campaign were a result of players decimating my carefully laid plans. Because you can never predict how a player will react to any given scenario, the improvised jargon that came after my failed plot points were more fun than the original idea.

The homebrewed campaign was a spin off of the four horsemen of the apocalypse with a fifth horseman added in for flavor and story. The lead figure in this story was a human barbarian who we took to calling Manbearpig. Manbearpig was a mute, leading to hilarious conversations of charades, miming, and eventual frustration by all the other party members.

In one unexpected twist, Manbearpig died in a fight in the sewers underneath some city. As a kind and gentle DM, I felt bad and wanted him to keep this super-interesting character, so I sent the primary antagonist, the God of Death, to Manbearpig with an offer. He can be resurrected as an undead human with the same persona and soul in exchange for becoming a vessel for the fifth horseman of the apocalypse. Of course, Manbearpig said yes, and I thought this was going to be a great little plot twist for the rest of the party. Little did I know how it would end…

Manbearpig also had an unusual talent for looting extraordinary items. Whilst sifting through barrels and crates in almost every room of every dungeon, he came across a potion that would literally annihilate everything within a large radius. (I rolled a 100 as his loot roll). He tucked it away for future use.

Fast forward to when the party decides to take a break in an underground dwarven city to rest and relax. They shop, wreak a little havoc, and regroup for the next adventure. I had planned for this, and because of some unseen event, the front entry to the city was blocked by a cave in. The only way out was an abandoned mine at the back. The plan was for Manbearpig to emerge as the fifth horseman, thus becoming an enemy of the party, kill some dwarves and maybe some PCs, and be defeated. Then the party would leave via a dungeon crawl through the mine, winning the loyalty of the dwarves in any upcoming fight. This was the last city of the dwarves, and their race was being threatened by extinction.

Instead of all that, however, things got a little crazy. Manbearpig emerged into his role as one of the world bosses, instantly killing dwarves left and right and raising them from the dead. After assembling a substantial zombie horde, he went after the rest of the party…

…who were separated and confused. They ran more than they fought, and Manbearpig was unstoppable. Except for one dwarf battlemind (who slept through most of the excitement), the party eventually regrouped at the entrance to the mine, ready to run or fight. I breathed a sigh of relief, reassured that the fifth horseman would die that session.

Wrong. The bard taunted Manbearpig to come and get them. Manbearpig smiled, took out his potion of destruction, and hurled it at the bard. It missed, thankfully, but it caused another cave in and sealed the party in the mine…

…with Manbearpig still inside the dwarven city! He proceeded to commit genocide, effectively erasing the dwarves from the face of the planet. Our poor battlemind, who woke up after the cave-in, was subjected to scenes from 28 Days Later. He was no match for thousands of zombies and one pissed off undead barbarian world boss horseman.

Why do dwarves always get eradicated in every fantasy setting ever?

The party left through the mines with two players dead, ready to be rid of dwarven zombies. Manbearpig rolled another character as the barbarian became a stagnant world boss.

We never did get around to tying up that loose end…


By: Fatjoke

I Didn’t Kill Anyone!

Ok leading right off I need to apologize. We were running a relatively small 4e Campaign, and kind of rushed our characters… Which in truth is why I can write this story.

The players are as follows ; A Human Paladin (abusing the heavy armor perks), an Elf Swordmage running for a stealth crossover (Me), A dwarven Warden (no real distinguishing features), and a painful semi evil Drizzt-clone.

We had just had a run in with some pirates who severely out leveled us and were actually meant to be allies later on. The pally and clone got captured, while my Swordmage and the Warden escape and return to our cave base. I decide “Hey I’ve got decent stealth, how about I just scale the cliff next to the pirates base and infiltrate it top down style”…… Which goes fine. (Incidentally the Dwarf Warden stays at base while repairing his shield which took a couple of throwing axes more than necessary) I then ace all my stealths, make my way down to the prison level, and snuff all the torches while dodging increasingly confused guards. I make my way to the cell that contains the Drizzt-clone, only to have the DM describe a shadowy figure get there first. I decide to sit back and see what happens. Promptly my Senses check comes up with

Clone: Who are you?

Figure: *draws sword, Removes hood, revealing similar featured drow*

Clone: You! No! It can’t be, you’re dead.

The Clone basically rushes the other drow and tries to get out of the cell and make an escape.


The drow promptly rolls a nat 20 on what the DM said was a Violent Disable check, and cuts our clones leg off.
Then he promptly steps over and coup de grace for a one hit.

I’m completely shocked, firstly for just the sheer lack of resistance by the player operating the clone, (He fought tooth and nail to be able to make this Drizzt-clone) and then because the DM then describes the drunk guards coming back, who I was sure I had locked in one of their own cells.

So I do the only thing a Swordmage can do in times of trouble…. I drop my Assault glyph right on top of this drow assassin, doing a double arcana and stealth check to not be noticed. They pass. I then just sit back and watch. The drow then spider climbs onto the ceiling and tries to drop on top of one of the guards.

Because it’s not me, My glyphs passive makes him fumble it. So then we hear more noises and apparently the Captain was going to mess with our Paladin and found the guards locked up. So we have the entire crew charging down a 2 wide hallway. The drow uses Cloud to block them and starts sprinting towards me. Again I just be Mr. Sneaky and trip him. Pass. He hits the floor, the captain has a sword at his throat in seconds. The DM promptly hands our single D20 to the previous player of the clone and says “Your Turn”

Turns out the player decided to kill his old character off and replace it with…… wait for it….. A Drow Entreri clone.

I Immediately throw my hands up in disgust and decide to screw this character over. I pop the glyph and make it explode in a flash of light. After a six turn charge the glyph pretty much blinds everyone but me. I leg it passed the blind pirates and through the Cloud. Only to run face first into the heavily armored bosom of the Paladin. Quite literally I, blurt out the first thing that comes to mind ” I didn’t kill anyone”.

Meanwhile The pirate captain starts swearing and also adds in “Whys there a ******* leg here” everything goes pretty smoothly after that. The “new” drow gets a pair of nat 20s on his Diplomacy checks and explains away the issue. And then the Paladin slaps me with the leg for not rushing in to help the Clone.


By: Dashiell Gallagher

DnD And Role Playing Stories