Courtesy of a Reader Submission
Courtesy of a Reader Submission
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.
Koru: Bothan Jedi Healer (Myself)
Bisskit: Trandoshan Soldier, Black Sun Vigo (lieutenant)
Gand: Gand Findsman (not high enough level to have earned a name)
Miscellaneous Party Members
The Gammorean (terror incarnate)
As our party sat around in a cantina one evening after a day of adventuring around, our Jedi Healer, Koru, decided that he was bored and wanted to play a prank on our Gand. Gand are an insectoid species that are gender-neutral. All of them are hermaphrodites. They also tend to loathe any sexual advance from someone not of their species. So, Koru thought it would be funny to convince one of the cantina patrons to flirt with Gand.
Koru, being a slightly-drunk Padawan, decided to pick a Twi’lek dancer and used a Force mind-trick to convince her to try to flirt with Gand. She sauntered over, looked at Gand for a moment, and slid away again. Not quite strong enough of a suggestion. Already getting a little tired of his game, Koru decided to pick a random patron in the cantina, used a force suggestion on them, and then turned back to his drink without really paying attention to who he’d chosen. This suggestion wasn’t super strong, but it was enough to get the attention of the patron he’d targeted.
As the party made small talk, Bisskit heard a large something lumbering up behind him. He turned around and was promptly swept up in a full-on bear hug by a Gammorean woman before he knew what was going on. Bisskit wasn’t a little guy, either. He was a solidly built soldier, a Black Sun Lieutenant even, with a pretty 17 strength. This Gammorean decided that Bisskit was a hot piece of Trandoshan and turned to take him up to her room. Bisskit, being the quick thinker he was, realized that she picked him because he was big and strong. He told her “Hey, look, see that fuzzy guy? You want him instead of me, trust me!” She turned to look at Koru (who was slightly stronger than Bisskit at 18 strength), thought for a moment, nodded, and shoved Bisskit under one of her arms. She then swept Koru up in her other arm, and proceeded to take both of us to her room.
The GM, being merciful, decided that it would take a full minute for her to walk up the stairs into her room, giving us 10 rounds to attempt to break free. The strongest members of the party, at 17 and 18 strength, could not break free in ten attempts. We only needed to roll above a 12 or so, too. The rest of the party finally decided that we did indeed need help after we disappeared into an upstairs room, still struggling futilely. They began to pursue The Gammorean to try to rescue us, but that naturally took them a few rounds as well. In that time, we had been wrestled into The Gammorean’s room, Bisskit had been thrown on the bed, Koru had managed to break free and dive out the window, and Bisskit had managed to fend off The Gammorean for a few rounds more before she finally overpowered him and began to move in on him.
Bisskit finally managed to roll high enough to break free for a round, and promptly used the time to dive out the same window Koru had. Trandoshans, however, are slightly larger than Bothans. He found himself stuck in the window frame, halfway free! The Gammorean quickly reasserted herself and began to pull Bisskit back in. Finally, the rest of the party busted into the room and valiantly provided just enough time for Bisskit to struggle his way out of the window and fall down three stories, landing with a busted arm and some flesh wounds (a minor inconvenience to a Trandoshan, especially when he has a pocket healer). Nonetheless, he was healthy enough and frightened enough that he and Koru were able to bolt from the scene. Naturally, both Koru and Bisskit received endless humiliation from the rest of the party after regrouping later for not being able to break free, despite their impressive strengths.
Koru, now permanently scarred by the images of The Gammorean attempting to rape him rather brutally, never again used his influence over other beings’ minds to pull a prank. (However, that didn’t stop him from other mischief and less-direct forms of pranking… some of which landed him in jails. Not the greatest Jedi to ever live.)
Continuing the adventures of Calsetes, ‘King’ Grom and Usajik, one of the first magical items they found was something that would change them, and the campaign, forever.
Cal had horrendous luck. Like, epic level failure when it came to his rolls. It wasn’t uncommon for him to go three rounds without landing a single attack. His rolls outside of battle were no better.
So when we found a Wand of Wonder, a wand enchanted to do… Well, any number of things, it rarely turned out well for us.
Traveling through a city, a massive sinkhole opened up in the center of town. Undead began clawing their way out, eager to destroy any living creatures. The three heroes fought alongside the city guard, though apparently NPC guards rolled as poorly as Calsetes.
Cleaving through zombies, eventually something bigger escaped the evil pit… Some sort of hellbeast. Usajik the Paladin fought zombies and skeletons on street level while Grom climbed up to a rooftop in an attempt to maybe jump at the flying hellbeast.
Calsetes, on the other hand, wanted something with a bit more punch than his dual longswords. He looted a magic shop and found some wands. None were labeled and the shopkeeper was either dead or had run away. But Cal grabbed them, and ran to fire away at his enemies.
King Grom stood on a rooftop, crown on his head, waiting for the flying hellbeast to fly by so that he might keep for it. Down below, Cal pointed his wand of choice and let it fly.
“Roll a d20,” said our Dungeon Master. And so Cal did.
The DM continued. “Grom sees the hellbeast flying toward him before disappearing into nothingness. But you can still hear it’s wings flapping before flame spews out from… Nowhere.”
He turned it invisible. Great job, Cal!
The beast was eventually killed after Grom chucked a javelin into its side so he knew where it was and could properly aim. This enabled Grom to jump on it and swing his greataxe. Cal, however, wanted one more shot from that wand.
And so, he rolled.
…….And our DM continued. With words Grom never wanted to hear.
“Grom sees a blast of flame rocketing toward him and the hellbeast he’s riding…”
Fireball. Two for two, Cal!
Once again, Grom’s racial ability saved him from dying. The Hellbeast, however, was vanquished.
The trio fortified an Inn after the battle, using it as a place to rest up and heal their wounds. Cal, however, wanted new armor, and left on his own to loot an abandoned armor shop.
After knocking over a display rack and alerting nearby undead, he was quickly surrounded. Surely that wand would come in handy! Cal points, and shoots!
….Now he’s fighting an Ogre and undead. Shoot again! Surely something beneficial has to happen this time!
Now it’s not an Ogre, it’s a Vampire Lord.
It’s at this point that myself, as a player, and the player of Usajik begin recommending new characters for Cal to play, since he’s obviously a dead man.
However, somehow, Cal manages to get out of there alive, but wounded, meeting back up with his allies.
Since Usajik was out of healing spells, and had expended his Lay on Hands, Cal points the Wand at himself.
Finally, Grom takes the Wand from Cal. But Grom can’t help but be curious… However, despite his low Intelligence, the Half-orc isn’t dumb enough to try it on himself. So he shoots Cal.
And turns him into a woman.
After many more attempts to ‘help’ Calsetes, eventually something decent happens. Cal is transformed into an Illithid.
And so, King Grom, Cal the Mindflayer Fighter and Usajik the Paladin continued their adventure…
Grom the Half-Orc Barbarian (Me)
Calsetes the Human Fighter
Usajik the Half-Elven Paladin
It was our first adventure together. Nothing crazy. Clear out the goblin cave, retrieve the relic. Simple enough, it was more than enough for us to get our feet wet and used to this new edition of the game. We had to retrieve the artifact to show we were worthy of entering a grand tournament.
It was my first time playing a Barbarian, or a Half-Orc. As such, I wanted to play it right.
Cal, being human and lacking the ability to see in the dark, lights a torch. After some goblins manage to find us, it’s time to roll for initiative.
Grom’s turn. First combat ever. Remember, let’s do Barbarian right!
“I rip the torch from Cal’s hands and attempt to impale a goblin with it!”
Next round. Finally time to draw the greataxe? No, let’s dropkick a goblin instead! Consider both attempts failed due to rolling poorly, I tried something much more standard and finally pulled out the greataxe. Small green creatures were finally being cleaved in two. Cal and Usajik had been doing fine, and Grom had to catch up. He couldn’t be outdone by a human or a knife-eared Half-Elf!
As we traveled deeper and deeper into the caves, we discovered something troubling: All goblin clan caves were connected. And all the clans were here, in a grand cavern, having a landsmeet. The three of us. Over a hundred goblins.
But we had a job to do. Grom got thinking… He was slightly green. So were the goblins. In HIS clan, the strongest ruled. Maybe it was the same for little green things, too?
While in the shadows outside the grand cavern, Grom managed to find some oil the goblins had been using for various purposes. He decided to coat his axe in it.
And so, Grom calmly (Well, calmly by Half-Orc standards) walked into the center of the meeting.
“GROM CHALLENGES FOR LEADERSHIP OF THE CLANS!”
Silence. From the characters, the goblins, the players, and the DM.
During this silence, Grom walked in a small circle, kicking away the dust covering the stone floor of the cavern.
Apparently, the strongest did rule their clans. Out from another cave stepped an Ogre.
Grom VS Ogre
My Half-Orc won initiative, and charged. But not before dragging his axe against the stone, igniting the oil. Flaming greataxe! (I’ve no doubt the DM wanted to reward me for my creativity) Grom and the Ogre traded blows for what seemed like an eternity. I’d managed to get enough swings into its face, particularly its left eye area. It had a bit of trouble aiming at me after that with its greatclub.
The dungeon master described the visceral scene. Grom was battered, covered in blood. A lot of it was his own. The Ogre’s face was gouged deeply, one eye missing chunks, and deeply wounded. The next person to land a blow would undoubtedly be the victor. It was the Ogre’s turn.
19. My AC was only 15. Grom is down… The players jaws dropped. Their characters had been cheering. Some goblins had begun cheering for Grom. But he was out…
I stared at my character sheet, looking for something. Anything. And then I saw it. One more shot.
“When an attack reduces you to 0HP, but doesn’t outright kill you, you can instead fall to 1HP and remain conscious.”
GROM WAS STILL GOING! But he had nothing else after this. One final attack. And it’s a good one.
The Ogre collapses, greataxe still stuck in its skull. Grom throws his hands up in triumph. Usajik the Paladin rushes to his side to heal him. Cal ensures nobody tries to pull any funny business.
Grom, now referring to himself as “King Grom, Ruler of the Goblin Kingdom of ****offville”, selects one goblin to accompany him, Calsetes “Sgt At Arms” and “Ambassador” Usajik on their adventures.
Back in the city, and at the start of the first round of the tournament, Grom demands to be treated like nobility. He even managed to procure a cheap, copper crown he proudly wore.
During his adventures, Grom would spend his downtime talking with that goblin about how their kingdom would rise to prominence, and how they could fix the goblin economy. Whenever Grom did something that’d get him into trouble, he would often scream “DIPLOMATIC IMMUNITY!” at town guards who would attempt to arrest him.
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.
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.
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)
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
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.
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
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.