kept landing critical hits

This is why I cried during DnD last night

Last session, we left off right before entering a sinking swamp temple to fight a chimera. We started this session all pumped to fight this thing, but we then learned from questioning some nearby trees (one of our party is a druid) that there was something…off about this chimera. Like a great sadness to it that the trees couldn’t name. 

I’m a human sorcerer with a draconic bloodline, so I decide that I’m going to try to talk to the dragon portion of this chimera, on the off chance that we don’t have to fight it. 

We enter the temple. The goat and lion parts of the chimera are hostile af. The dragon is curious, recognizing me and the dragonborn of our group as other dragons. It then speaks to us in a childlike, Barney voice.

“Oh, hullo.”

I respond in Draconic. We have a brief back and forth where I try to convince the dragon head to stop his other heads from attacking, but find that the dragon head can’t overpower the wills of his other two heads. 

Then the dragon says this: “Can you help me? I want to become a real dragon.”

My desire to kill this thing dissolves immediately, and I start trying to brainstorm how I could possibly let this baby in a monster’s body become real. 

We can’t just cut off the other two heads, because they are all one being and the dragon would die. None of us has any spells that could be helpful. And there’s the other issue of still being attacked by the lion and goat, who control the legs and claws and cast spells. 

So then we ask, “If you were a real dragon, what would you do? Where would you live?”

The dragon says, “Um, I would fly around. I would collect my shinies. I would eat so I was never hungry. Would you like to see my shinies?” 

“What would you eat?”

“Whatever was around. Whatever I usually eat, I suppose.”

We look around the temple, covered in mangled skeletons from other adventurers who had wandered too close. We realize that even if there was a way to separate the dragon from its chimera body, it would still be a monster. It would still fly around, eating and murdering people. 

My party members agree we have no choice but to put it down. I’m already shedding some tears, both IRL and in character, so I’m secretly relieved when my actions keep missing. The only thing keeping me somewhat composed is that the party is mostly focusing their attacks on the other heads, not the dragon, out of pity.

Then the barbarian of our group, Claybourne Curry Jr., who had been raging for like 20 minutes now and pissed because he kept missing his swings, lands a critical hit. He chooses to use that hit to cut off the dragon’s head. 

But before he strikes the final biow, he leans in and says in Draconic.

“The thing is, you can never be a real dragon.

Our DM describes in detail the shock and sadness in the dragon’s eyes right before the axe falls. Our entire group starts yelling because of the drama of it all, and I burst into fucking tears. 

Literally ten minutes later a party member gets killed (an event planned by the player and the DM, but unknown to the rest of us), and I can’t even be sad because I’m still teary from the chimera. I’m teary writing about it right now.

It was the rawest DnD session I’ve ever had, and I’m still emotionally traumatized from it.