Gather ‘round, let me tell ye a tale of adventurers seven. Among them ye’d find a disconcerting combination of people with no obvious business together except to get into trouble: a half-elf wizard, a half-elf monk, and a half-elf ranger, a dwarven cleric, a human sorcerer, a water genasi bard, and a dragonborn rogue.
Yes. A dragonborn rogue. She is gold and kickass.
Our adventurers, they fought many a demon, got lost in an enchanted forest, killed some duergar, and then found themselves in the beautiful city of Elventree, where they planned to rest for about a month while the DM performed in a play—I mean, while they learned skills and developed as characters through downtime. But instead, they burnt it to the fucking ground.
Okay, here’s what happened: up until this point, we had been playing our game at a local bar dedicated to nerds. This place has every board game you’ve ever heard of in your life and they loan out copies of pretty much any D&D handbook you can think of. I have personally ordered a Unicorn’s Blood, and I have my next drink picked out in honor of this story: Critical Fail, a terrifying combination of Wild Turkey 101, rum, and vodka, topped with Cocaine Energy Drink.
That being said, a few weeks ago, we decided to play at a friend’s house for the big finale before our month-long hiatus. The trouble is, we didn’t consider the significant advantage (and devastating disadvantages) of having a generous host with an abundance of wine. Everyone in the party had at least half a bottle of wine. At least.
As a result, we were not as careful as we normally were at our typical bar where we could only afford a drink or two. Long story short, we missed important details, made stupid decisions, and completely destroyed several months of our DM’s preparations that he had arranged so he could take a month off without having to stress.
Here’s what was supposed to happen: we had captured a Bad DudeTM who was trying to bring a black deity of death into the world, sort of got possessed in the process, and was in prison to stand trial for all this, and we were going to find out if there was any shred of him left that hadn’t been possessed by the deity. Many people in our party were loathe to kill him without a trial, but the politics in Elventree insinuated that he might go free if we didn’t do anything. So we sent Tervill, a brave but naïve sprite who we were drunkenly calling “Tervis,” to look into his heart.
The DM says Tervill rolled a natural 1 and the Bad DudeTM rolled a nat 20. As a party, we think he may be lying to make us feel better about what horrible drunken decisions we made, but regardless, Bad DudeTM immediately grabbed Tervill, and we had no idea what to do. I’m not sure who rolled the highest initiative or who did what first, because wine, but I know my character, the half-elf ranger, pulled her bow in the middle of a crowd and shot an arrow at Bad DudeTM. What I thought that would accomplish, I couldn’t tell you now.
Some other party members were foolish like me, others had good ideas but rolled poorly, but no matter what the characters tried to do, it did not go well. Our rogue made a few non-rogue-ish decisions, our bard only rolled enough to put 18 people to sleep, and to create a distraction, one of our NPC’s blew up the local pub, which he owned. Elventree was literally on fire.
To top it all off, our wizard set Bad DudeTM on fire as well, and Tervill, our brave sprite, fell toward the ground limply. Don’t worry, someone caught him, but then we all ran for the fucking hills. And that’s where our session ended, at midnight on a week night. People were…less than pleased. Our DM was…significantly less than pleased.
Tune in next time (read as: check your feed on Monday) for Part Two: How the DM Saved the Day