Playing Vampire the Requiem with my group and this session we did some character bonding while the DM and her GF finished putting together some stuff for the campaign. You know, icons, maps, that sorta thing. Anyways, my character sucks at chess, as we established in the first session. But she’s from Chicago area. So the rest of the session has just been my extremely flirtatious and violent vampire teaching the others, calmly, how to play Euchre. And going on angry rants about how much she hates the Midwest. But hey, at least our 200 year-old 12 year-old master is having fun 😀
Archive for the ‘Stories’ Category
Playing dungeons and dragons. the party just killed a large mechanical monster that compacts down into a hyper dense orb upon death. the party cleric tries to move it, rolls a 1, gets a hand stuck under the orb.
The fighter laughs at her, tries to help, ALSO rolls a 1.
Now half the party has their hands stuck under the ball.
Level 1. New campaign. A new scene is being described: “You are on the outskirts of a forest, a thick and dense forest filled with mysteries and possibly monsters. It’s light.”
Players take that to mean the forest is light, so debate why the forest is light. After a while, I give up and say there’s a burning house in the forest. They decide to enter it.
They enter the -burning house-… and see a pack of wolves. They stay to fight.
They then re-rolled characters.
Upon entering a larger chamber in a cave system our party saw 8 Orcs with their backs to us, facing down another tunnel.
It looked like they were fighting something down the tunnel so we decided to wait and see what happened. Next thing I saw was all 8 Orcs hitting the floor, seemingly dead.
After some discussion the party sent my Dwarf fighter to scout the tunnel as we didn’t trust the Half-Orc to scout reliably, and we were the only two party members with the ability to see in the dark.
So the Dwarf in half plate was sent to scout… Read on »
I saw three hooded figures standing over another dozen or so Orc bodies, and decided to go back to the party so we could make our plan of attack.
The Wizard however, had different ideas and asked “How do we know they’re evil?”, I replied with “They’re in a cave, of course they’re evil!” The Wizards view? “But we’re in a cave, and we’re not evil.”
After a bit of to-ing and fro-ing a new plan was decided. I would go around the corner and play the diplomat (I’m still not sure how the fighter ended up as the parties diplomat), with everyone else poised to attack on my signal if needed.
Before I even finished my greeting I was struck with three darts and promptly fell unconscious.
Lesson learnt, if they’re in a cave, of course they’re evil, also, never listen to the wizard.
Rogue on 1hp from a tough battle decides to vanish and flee from the scene. He finds a nearby shack and decides to get in there and hide from the commotion to rest up a bit.
He tries to lockpick the door but the door was already unlocked. A minotaur inside the shack hears the fiddling with his lock and rushes at the door, slamming it open. The 26 strength from the minotaur smacks the door straight into the rogues face.
The rogue rolled a 1 and died to a door.
Our paladin was not the brightest of characters. This is important to remember.
When presented with a small clay frog that had to be filled with molten gold and named aloud to produce a key to a door, the party got as far as filling it with gold and then sat obliviously wondering at what its’ name might be, nobody even thinking to roll a knowledge check of any variety!
The paladin entertained himself by playing dot to dot with the pattern on the frog’s back. In so doing he revealed the constellation that was hidden therein.
He’d solved the puzzle by playing dot to dot because he was bored…
So the party encountered a large spider at the entrance to the dungeon. The spellcaster thought it was a good time to bust out his breakdance moves. He rolls a critical and so breakdances so well that he has to spend a turn getting his shit together XD
So some skeletons were attacking the party. The Elf Wizard (Who for some reason decided he was more Gnome Sized than Elf Sized) jumped out of the Dwarf’s beard into what he called a “Spinning Jump Slash” which he described as “Holding the sword above his head and jumping through the air while spinning”. Rolling a critical, he turned the skeleton into a white mist. However, he turned out to be overzealous as the skeleton’s mate clobbered him and knocked him out
Welcome back once again gentle reader to the last instalment of my tales concerning Bob the Dybbuk. Firstly I’d like to thank Mrs Betty Crump of Chiswick who wrote to me after our last instalment. She told me that she was rather concerned that her new neighbour, Mr X, might be Bob. She said that she came to this conclusion due to his showing signs of extreme stupidity, social ineptitude and, what she calls, an ‘unnatural’ liking for both doors and door knobs. Well Mrs Crump I can tell you that your new neighbour isn’t Bob, for he no longer resides upon these fair shores, your new neighbour is, what those in the medical profession would call, a nutter. He may murder you in your bed or use your beloved tabby ‘Bruce’ in an unspeakable pagan rite but he will probably never threaten you with a tedious and endless D&D session. I hope that puts you at ease Betty.
Now I know you’re going to say “Mr Narrator how could this be? How could he have a 5th level character when no one had even seen it before?” The answer confused and outraged readers is Bob had a long tradition of producing ‘special’ characters i.e. the Fighter with 18/00 Strength, 18 Constitution and not a stat under 16 or the Magic User with 18 Intelligence, 18 Dexterity and again no stats under 16. Also nearly 80% of his characters were ‘Psionic’. In AD&D there was such an ability though there was very little, if any, chance of creating a character with it. About 1% to 3% as I recall. But he would always claim that they were fairly rolled up, though no one ever witnessed it. And when the occasional 5th, 6th or 7th level superman/woman, who no one had ever seen or heard of before, made an appearance Bob would claim that he used to play with himself a lot, get your mind away from the artistic magazines, doing solo dungeons. At first we railed against this flagrant abuse of rules and fair play, but once we realised that no matter how he created them or how they gained their experience they all died the same, swiftly, we just let him get on with it.
I can tell you we were staggered at the potential uselessness of having a Fortune Teller in the party, 5th level or otherwise. I mean to say what in god’s name is a fortune teller going to do in a dungeon? One of our party proclaimed him about as much use as mammary glands upon a gill-bearing aquatic craniate animal that lacked limbs with digits. Whilst another more prosaic member of our team declared that he was going to be, and I quote,”fuck all and no use”. Sorry about that but it had to be said.
Try as we might we could not get Bob to change his choice of character. Indeed he stoically refused to be moved on the point and thus the dice were cast. Now at first, we thought we would have to eat our words for at the start of the dungeon, whilst we were in the town ferreting about for clues, Bob’s character actually came in useful, telling fortunes and making money in the bazaar. It was once it came time to leave the cosy confines of civilisation that his fortune teller began to become a burden.
Firstly as a teller of fortunes he felt that he needed to take with him one or two rather special items such as his garishly stripped tent, his collapsible table and chairs and of course his crystal ball, his collection of reference books and various other esoteric nick-naks most of which had to be loaded upon his mule. After all these many years I must admit that I cannot remember what became of Bob’s mule or many of the items he had upon it, though I have a feeling it didn’t meet a good end. Once within the dungeon proper Bob revealed to Wonny just how irritating it could be to have a Fortune Teller in a party. Bob, now tent less, mule less, chair less and with only a few surviving reference books and nick-naks, had been reduced to carrying his collapsible table upon his back and his crystal ball in the pocket of his robes, but still he was determined to prove his worth. Thus it was whenever our party encountered a door, rather than get the thief to hear for noise and check for traps Bob decided to whip out the old rune stones and try and divine what lay upon the other side. This alone would have been bad enough but he also went through this same ritual whenever we came to a crossroads or junction in the dungeon. And every time, after much candle burning, chanting and stone casting, the DM would humour him with an answer of either the omens were favourable or unfavourable when it came to that choice of action. As we soon discovered Wonny’s proclaimed answers to these prognostications had little to do with the reality of what lay in wait for us, not that this stopped Bob.
Now apart from the sheer amount of time lost dithering, and just plain farting about, in this manner Bob’s chanting also attracted wandering monsters, which of course we had to fend off whilst Bob complete his pointless auguring. Several times we almost left him to it mid-casting but his pitiful pleas stopped us. Finally however the thief lost his rag, picked Bob’s pocket, stole his rune stones and conveniently lost them. The DM, also sick of all the fannying about, had a monster steal and eat Bob’s backpack and of course the bulk of his possessions. By now we were a good third of the way into the dungeon and Bob’s Fortune teller’s possessions had been reduced to a, rather scratched and battered, portable table, a crystal ball, his slightly chewed pack of Tarot Cards and the robes he stood up in. Not forgetting of course his ten foot pole, well 6¼ foot after an encounter with a blade trap. But still he was determined to prove his metal, even though all he’d achieved thus far was to slow the adventure to a crawl, summon several wandering monsters down upon us, accurately divine that it wouldn’t be in our best interest to open one of the umpteen doors we’d encountered and of course browned everybody right off. But everything he’d done thus far was to pale into insignificance when compared to what he was to do next.
As I stated earlier Wonny was a great lover of traps and it was into one of these we now fell, allow me to describe it. We had become trapped in a twenty foot long by six foot wide corridor; a slab had slid into place behind us cutting off our egress. Before us the corridor widened out to form an eight foot octagonal chamber with, what appeared to be a seven foot, circular, pool in the centre of it. It had been this pool and the softly glowing figurine in a wall niche beyond it that had attracted us in. When we reached the edge of the pool we discovered that it wasn’t a pool but the top of a long water filled brick tube. The tube was lit by phosphorescent lichen. Half way down its length and at right angles to it another tube connected to it, this was our way out. Just beyond this junction however and only barely visible to us we could make out the four eyes and fearsome jaws of a Marine Umber-Hulk clearly waiting for dinner to be served. It was now that we could have done with one of the aforementioned gill-bearing aquatic craniate animals that lacked limbs with digits, with or without Mammary glands, just so long as it had an attitude and large teeth. It was then that Bob uttered those immortal words “I’ve got an idea that’ll put the cat amongst the pigeons. I’ll tell its fortune.” At first we thought he was extracting the urine but no he was deadly serious, dead soon to be the operative word. We tried to explain that there were a few drawbacks with his plan, let me summarise:
1. It’s a Marine Umber-Hulk, a mindless, and hungry, killing machine.
2. He can’t breathe underwater.
3. He also wouldn’t be able to talk underwater.
4. Even if he could speak underwater he had no idea how to speak Umber-Hulk, Marine or otherwise.
5. He would need to get within a few feet of it to even attempt to tell its fortune. See 1.
6. If he did get that close he would be in danger of achieving eye to eye to eye to eye contact with the beast qv. There is a high chance it would cause him to suffer from confusion. See 1.
7. What did he intend to tell its fortune with? His table will sink as will his crystal ball and his Tarot cards would just float away.
8. It’s a Marine Umber-Hulk it’s as patient and understanding as a Rottweiler that’s just had its testicles gently tickled by a pair of pliers.
9. What’s the point! How will trying to tell its fortune help us in any way shape or form?
10. It’s just going to eat you, you idiot!
Bob sat listening to all the pros and cons, nodding sagaciously in all the right places, seeming to heed all that we said. He then whipped out his collapsible table, his cards and crystal ball and dived in.
Below is a recreation of the scene as Bob no doubt thought it was going to play out:
Bob: “Well Mr Hulk or is that Miss?
Umber Hulk: “?”
Bob: “Cross my palm with silver and I’ll tell you what your future holds in store for you.”
Umber Hulk: “??”
Bob: “I see a bit strapped for cash eh? Well as you look like an honest…err…thing. Now if you’d just like to float there for a moment I’ll gaze into my crystal ball and discover what the fates have in store for you.”
Bob believed he would then no doubt proceed to tell the Marine Umber-Hulk its fortune which would both enlighten and delight it so much that it would allow us all to pass unharmed or something like that.
Meanwhile back at the dungeon and reality. The hungry Marine Umber-Hulk prepared to receive its dinner. Bob’s table had immediately tilted sideways and sunk to the bottom of the tube where it unceremoniously landed upon the Marine Umber-Hulks head. This of course was seconds after Bob’s Crystal ball arrived squarely between its eyes.
11. See 7 above
The Marine Umber-Hulk was now hungry and angry. Bob announced that he didn’t think it fair that his table and ‘Glass’ had been taken from him before he’d had a chance to use them. Wonny explained Newtonian gravitational theory as well as Einstein’s General theory of relativity to Bob, who chose to totally ignore them. But neither science nor common sense would shift him. For nearly an hour Bob complained, moaned and wedeled about the injustice of it all before the DM told him to get on with it or he’d kill him, let alone his character. Bob, now in a huff, declared that as he still had his tarot cards he would still have a chance to read the Umber-Hulk’s fortune. If by ‘read his fortune’ he meant wildly thrash his arms about in the water causing his tarot cards to appear like snow in a snow globe, whilst slowly drowning in a sea of bubbles, then job done. From the Umber-Hulk’s point of view all it could see was a pair of bare, hairy legs and Bob’s loin clothed groin area framed in voluminous quantities of wet sacking, better known as the Fortune Teller’s robes which were now floating up around his midriff and shoulders. The end, when it came was swift and brutal.
12. See 1, 8 and 10 above
Still Bob continued to argue, even as he was being devoured, that he hadn’t been given a fair chance to read the creatures fortune. And thus the only ever Fortune Teller passed into the anals of D&D history, moaning all the way. What can be said of this irritating and largely useless character class? Good riddance, probably. All in all it was a third rate character class that had turned out to be a first rate main course. In Bob’s defence I would however like to go back to point nine ‘What’s the point! How will telling its fortune help us in any way shape or form?’ As it turned out Bob’s Fortune Teller’s actions helped the party get past the Umber-Hulk as it was so busy eating him it ignored us as we made our way past it, thanks Bob.
And so gentle readers here ends my tale of Bob the Dybbuk. Try not to think too harshly of him as we who knew him try not to think of him at all. He was an arse, a cheat, a whiner and an all-round waste of space but looking back on it now he brought us some happiness, mainly because no matter how bad things got at least we weren’t him. I bid you farewell and thank you for your indulgence. Oh yes and don’t forget to put the cat out.
Well since our party (lvl 15) was now running a town/city our DM decided to have it under attack. So he goes and rolls on the tables for encounters, and comes up with Beholder. He then rolls for the number of them, and gets 7. He starts laughing and says they fly out of the sky and start to wreck havoc. The Monk, being the fastest character in the party, sees this and runs up to them and kills two. He then gets hit with the other fives death rays. Rolls the Will save for them, and passes the first four of them. Rolls the last one and gets a natural 1, he falls over dead. Only to awaken again in a dark room. Come to find out the party Wizard had used clone on all of us. The Monk then becomes ethereal and walks out of the place. Sees the beholders and runs toward them killing 2 more before failing the saves again. The cleric walks up and casts disintegrate on the last 3. Then sits in the town square using Resurrection on the Monk. Monk wakes up and punches the cleric in the face saying, “You couldn’t have done that sooner?”