player(off)

(You Gotta) Party for Your Right (To Fight!)

(Context: Our party is focused on making alliances among small colonies to help us combat the intrusive inquisition of our old country. While the more polite party members and I were talking to the paladin leader of the elf colony, the super chaotic swashbuckler and slayer, who would be recognized by the paladin’s right hand men for their prior offenses, were left to their own devices.)

Swashbuckler: I guess I’ll put my skills as a revolutionary to use, and go to the barracks to try and rile up the elf soldiers to join our cause.

Fighter: You can just kick in the door, carrying in a ton of booze, and say, “Hey! Who here hates the inquisition?!”, and just start a huge kegger!

(After enough joking, we come to realize that actually is the best plan we have, and the DM rolls with it. The two kick in the door with 500 gp worth of booze, enough to get the entire barracks absolutely wasted. They then proceed to absolutely ACE their knowledge (local) rolls.)

DM: Alright, you’ve found the people who hate the inquisition, are really drunk, and are charismatic enough to get their buddies to join up. Now, roll Diplomacy to convince them to stand by you against your common enemy.

Swashbuckler: Do we get a bonus for the booze? We paid a lot for it, we better get a bonus for it.

DM: Yes you do. Since you found just the right people, and brought so much booze, add… add a +5 for each 100 gold you spent on tonight’s drinks.

(After rolling a FORTY-SEVEN, none of us can stop laughing as the DM describes the party to end them all:)

DM: The morning after, you remember flashes of what happened last night: Word spread across the entire barracks that this party was going down, and everyone joined in the fun. You remember the slayer dancing on the table with an elf twice his height, you remember bonding with your new buddies over just how much you hate the inquisition, you remember getting into a fistfight with one guy, and then sobbing in each other’s arms: “I love you, man!”, “I love you as much as me bloody musket!”. Then you all sang drinking songs about fighting the inquisition together and kicking them all in the taint. This was the night of your life.

Me: (Still laughing) We picked the right people for this! You were the right people for this job!

“well i suppose i’ll be patching you up… as usual”

i love how mercy only says this to pharah because there’s just this tiny bit of resignation in her voice in the “as usual” and it makes me think fareeha’s always training a little too hard and getting minor injuries (a few of them are definitely an excuse to seek out angela) and angela just shakes her head but she can’t really find it in herself to tell her to stop

You asked for it

Context : I homebrew a campaign in which the players struggle against a cult to a goddess of carnage, violence and destruction. The group interrupts a summoning ritual and amongst the chaos of the fleeing cultists must battle a badass fiend.

DM : The demon turns his gaze towards you and peers into your soul! Make a Cha saving throw.

Monk (ooc) : *nat 20* yeah! The thing can’t read my mind! I read his!!!

Everyone (ooc) : So cool!/Can she do that?!

DM : Why not… You see a flash of the fiend’s mind, a vision of countless hovering demons over an endless battlefield filled with fighters hacking and slashing, severing members, falling dead on the bloodsoaked ground, only to heal immediately and raise up, stuck in a never ending cycle of bloodshed and massacre.

Monk (ooc) : urgh. Not cool.

DM : you asked for it.

anonymous asked:

would you ever consider collecting all of the parts and putting them into one big comic book? or ever smaller books based on location? u could even open a store and sell it! o:

((i’ve thought about this before but the problem is that to print a book, your pictures have to have a nice and consistent size and resolution. the pictures here are just a mess, so trying to make something nice is nearly impossible

Sign please

So the wonderful @alexxphoenix42 gave me the unilock prompt: “I’ve been receiving all your freaking mail since you moved out and you keep getting weird gifts from your brother, make it stop AU”. It was a lot of fun to write! Really hope you enjoy it. Fair warning: it got REALLY long, like 3000+ words long, so if you prefer you can read on AO3.

“Excuse me. Excuse me – hi? Yeah, I’m wondering if you could help me.”

The receptionist at Student Services fixed him with a baleful glare that would melt the resolve of a lesser man. John Watson, however, squared his shoulders and glared right back.

“Yes?” she asked, sounding less than interested.

“I need to find out the address of a current student. He lived in my room last year, and I’m still getting all his post. Parcels. Weird parcels.”

“Sorry,” she said, looking him up and down suspiciously. “We don’t give out the addresses of our students.”

John sighed, maintaining his temper with an effort. “I don’t think you understand. I’m also a student.” He handed over his student pass: John Watson, age 22, Fourth-year Medicine. “I just need to find this guy so I can get rid of all the weird post that keeps arriving, and convince him to change his address with whoever-it-is that keeps sending the parcels.”

“No, I don’t think you understand,” she said, flatly. “We don’t give out addresses.” She pushed the pass back across the counter at him.

John took a deep breath, in through the nose, out through the mouth. “Okay. Perhaps if I brought the post here, you could pass it on to him for me, and give him a message to change his address?”

“No, sorry,” she said, already shuffling some papers on a desk to her left. The phone rang, and she picked it up. “Student Services, how may I help you?” she intoned as John took a step back.

“Not well,” he muttered under his breath as he stamped away.

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Zidane says (for the umpteenth time this summer) that James is staying | August 27, 2016