Barakas, a Lawful Neutral Tiefling Paladin who is allergic to bullshit.
Zana, a Neutral Good Shifter Ranger with a hatchling wyvern on her shoulder.
Daniel, a Chaotic Neutral/Evil Dragonborn Cleric in a clown costume, who also has split personality disorder.
Saraiyu, a Chaotic Good Rogue/Paladin of Mask with an eye for shiny things. (me)
Narcelia, A Lawful Evil Drow Princess who hates approximately everything.
As you can see from the lineup, we were a motley crew. A lot of us were very new to D&D, and our DM purposely didn’t give us much guidance aside from, “Here’s the 5e Player’s Handbook, call me over if you need help.” So we all had very, very different alignments. Inevitably, this led to a split party by level five.
You see, we were investigating the slow death of the forest outside of the town, and we ended up discovering that it was the work of a cult following a local Archfey. We confronted the head of the cult, a Warlock, and right away Barakas, Zana, and Saraiyu decided this man was evil, and his cult was evil, and we should have approximately nothing to do with him. Narcelia, however, had just renounced her Goddess, Lolth, and needed protection fast. She agreed to start leveling in Warlock and joined up with his cult right there, hoping to win the Archfey’s favor. That left just one party member undecided.
Daniel’s player consulted his sheet, frowned at some numbers on a page, and then with a wide grin he held out a d6 and asked, “Evens or odds?”
He had just decided to roll to see whether he wanted to join the Warlock or not. And he ended up joining, too. That left us with two tanks and a ranger against our two spellcasters, a Warlock, and the horde of thirty zombies that the Warlock immediately summoned.
We fought like hell. It was a long, bitter conflict that lasted an entire session. My character was downed multiple times, only coming to because of the Tiefling’s healing abilities and, in one case, a very well timed Natural 20. When the metaphorical dust settled, four party members were making death saves on the floor, the zombies had been decimated, and the wyvern was a sad, slightly charred little corpse. The two Pallys and the Ranger were tied to a post, to be used as bargaining chips in the imminent battle with the nearby town. Our DM then revealed that the Warlock had been twice our level, and he had only had eight hit points left. We still won’t let him forget that one.
When our characters came to, we started thinking of a way to escape. All our weapons had been taken, we were being watched, and our ropes were strong. However- there was hope. You see, my character carried with her a trinket from her childhood: half a broken beer bottle from her first bar fight, which she called her lucky shiv. Of course, the Dragonborn, who knew about this trinket, had searched her for it, but he had failed his Investigation roll. He just couldn’t find it on her. So when Saraiyu realized she still had it, she conveyed this to Zana.
“Well,” said Zana’s player. “Where do you keep it?”
I glanced at my equipment and realized I had very few options.
“Okay, so bear with me.” I said, shifting into character. “I’m going to need you to reach down my pants.”
“I have something tied to my inner thigh that can help us escape.”
“Is this a pick up line?”
“No! Look, it’s on the right, you can reach it if I shift a little…”
We then had to roleplay through her rummaging around in there, all the while making stealth saves to avoid being discovered. There was a lot of giggling, and a lot of things like, “No no, a little to the left, that’s the coin purse… No, not that far left, buy me a drink first..” and so on. Finally, she managed to get it out and she cut us all free of the ropes that tied our arms.
We then had our characters sit in awkward silence while Saraiyu tried to wriggle out of her foot bindings, and Zana contemplated what possible reason someone could have for keeping half a beer bottle down their trousers.