sorc

Spicy Dragon Milk

Context: So my party (CN Rogue, CG Sorc, and me the NG Bard) had just finished slaughtering almost the entire mafia (who our rogue was a part of) in a town while the rest had surrendered.  The current session we needed to introduce our new player (CN Paladin) who decided that he had simply gone out for coffee for everyone and came back to a room full of corpses.

Paladin: “Hey guys, I’m ba- OH MY GOD!”

Rogue: “Oh hey Paladin.  Welcome back, wanna join us?  What’s that you got there?”

Paladin: “Um, sure?  I’ve got coffee, sugar, milk- no, spicy milk.”

Me, Bard: “Spicy… milk?”

Paladin: “Yes.  Spicy dragon milk.”

Sorc: “Spicy dragon milk?  How would you even milk a dragon?”

Bard: “Care to elaborate?”

Paladin: “Nope.”

From then on, any mysterious substance is instantly spicy dragon milk.

INTP Was Mistaken
  • INTP: I’m going take a bunch of our bloopers and compile them into a music video.
  • ENFP: Are you sure you want to do that?
  • INTP: Yeah! I’m so ready!
  • ENFJ: *narrator voice* INTP would, in fact, find she was not ready. INTP Was Mistaken. A feature film by Catching Stars Productions and Wallflower TV.
  • INTP: You acknowledged ENFP’s channel!
  • ENFP: :)
  • ENFJ: No. This is the not serious corner. INTP Was Mistaken 2.
  • ENFP: :(
  • INTP: Whatever. I’m ready to get to work!
  • ENFJ: INTP Was Mistaken 3. She fools herself again. The epic trilogy.
Why Herbalists and Pheonix Sorcerers Don't Mix

Our party has found our way into a giant dead tree that was once the home to a very wealthy elf and is now infested with undead and fiends. Most of the party’s energy is spent on keeping the Pheonix Sorcerer (who is also our party’s herbalist) from burning the place down.

We find ourselves in a large indoor garden complete with magical fake sun and weeping treant gardener. Through circumstances the sorcerer has become invisible (partially my fault for rubbing him with a flower that turns people invisible) and found his way into a shack kept dark to grow mushrooms in. Four major mushroom colonies are in here, all of which the rest of the party has identified before, but the sorcerer want paying attention.

Through terrible rolls the sorcerer has falsely identified three of the mushrooms as deadly deadly poison, then he gets to the fourth… Which actually is deadly deadly poison.

Sorc: I attempt to identify the glowing white mushroom. *Rolls, gets a two*
DM: you’re pretty sure this mushroom is great on pizza.
Sorc: okay I have an idea! I pick one.
DM: with bare hands?
Sorc: what no! I’ve got gloves in my Herbalists kit. I put them on when I’m about to herbal.
DM: okay you pick a mushroom. It still glows
Sorc: okay I put some of the spores from the sleep flower on it… And then a petal from the invisible flower!
DM: well the mushroom still glows but is now invisible and has little spores on it.
Sorc: okay cool… I eat it.
Whole party stares
DM: roll a con save *sorc fails* okay you do to 0 HP, roll a death save
Sorc: aw shit
Fighter/bard: wait 0 HP?
DM: yeah he’s dying
Me: that… *Finally realizes* oh…
Fighter/bard: Pheonix Sorcerer…
Me: when he hits 0 HP…
Sorc: oh yeah, I use Pheonix spark
DM: *reads the rules* okay yeah… You’re not dead… *Points to rest of the party* you guys hear an explosion and see fire blow a hole in the roof of the mushroom shack
Sorc: *leaves the shack looking like a blown up cartoon character* do NOT go in there!

The party and the random arse newts/ shit the DM says

Context: Our party consisting of 2 seasoned players (Myself and my partner) one playing a Dwarven Druid (ME!), the other playing an Aasimar (half angel) Bard, and two fairly new players (my best friend and their fiance), a Dragonborn Sorc, and a Half Elf Rouge are all on the run from a terrifying organization that we were apart of but are now called traitors of, after a battle between four assassins sent to kill our butts in which I wild shaped in to a giant eagle and helped speed the of winning up, I fly back to the clearing I was scouting to see if the large group of men I saw were still there thinking they were possible allies, all that remains in this clearing/ dying grove are a rare breed of newts. The conversation that follows when the party catches up in hilarious.

Bard (ooc): I roll for investigation on the newts *rolls  a 5* 

DM: These are newts.

Sorc (ooc) I roll a nature on the newts *rolls a two*

DM: (amused by our antics) Still newts.

Druid (me) (ooc): I roll a nature! *Rolls a 14*

DM (telling me only): These newts are extremely rare, they don’t need to stay in water at all times to survive. 

Rouge (not paying attention) (ooc): I roll nature for the newts and how they got here. *rolls a 1*

DM: (to the Rouge) DUUHHHH NEWTS. 

The rest of us (in character): *Dies laughing*

sorcererinslytherin  asked:

King AU. Ryan exhausts himself teleporting. Good thing there's his lovely husband ready to kiss it better.

( *blows kiss*)

When Ryan voiced his interest in practicing his longer blinks, teleporting longer distances, Gavin already knew exactly how the day was going to end. So he isn’t surprised at the sight of his exhausted husband stumbling into their bed chamber in the late afternoon, looking like he’s just run twenty miles.

“Have fun?” Gavin chirps, standing up from the small desk he was writing at. He moves over to Ryan, reaching out and taking his hand, smiling brightly.

“I think I blinked over three miles in one shot,” Ryan grins back, squeezing his hand lightly. “Also might have scared some of your knights blinking back out from the jungle.”

Gavin chuckles, shaking his head. “I’m sure they’ll forget all about it. Or Dan will convince them it was nothing.” He pecks a kiss to his cheek. “But that’s good! You’re going farther! Is it getting any easier?”

“Not yet,” Ryan says, shaking his head but still beaming down at Gavin. “It’s still just as tiring.”

“Then let’s get some rest, shall we?” Gavin says, moving them both over to the bed.

Ryan all but collapses into it, letting out a low sigh as his body aches, soar from the energy he had used up. Gavin shakes his head fondly at him, knowing full well he did this to himself. But Gavin still lays down with him, throwing his arms around the other.

“I’ve already told a servant to bring supper here instead of the dining hall,” Gavin mutters, brushing Ryan’s long, blond hair away from his face. “Figured you’d just sleep through it anyway.”

Ryan gives a small hum of pleasure, already closing his eyes and nuzzling close to Gavin. “That sounds good. You always know how to treat me right, my love.”

“It’s almost like you married me for a reason,” Gavin hums back, placing a gentle kiss to his forehead.

Ryan gives a sleepy smile. “Hm, I thought it was just for your beautiful face.”

“No, that’s why I married you, remember?” Gavin teases, placing more kisses to his face.

“Oh yeah. That and my ‘bloody beautiful eyes’,” Ryan mimics, exaggerating Gavin’s accent.

“I don’t bloody sound like that,” Gavin chides.

“No, you sound much prettier than that…” Ryan mumbles.

“Well I can tell you’re really tired, that didn’t make any sense.”

Ryan yawns then, only proving Gavin’s point further. “Blinking’s hard,” he explains simply. “Stay with me?” he mutters, wrapping his arms over Gavin’s thin frame.

Gavin chuckles, giving him a big grin. “I’m already in the bed, aren’t I? I’m staying. Now get some sleep, love.”

Ryan only nods, drifting off cuddled close to his husband, in his warm and safe arms. Gavin presses one more kiss to his hair, hearing his breath even and his weight press against him. 

“Love you, you big nerd,” Gavin whispers against his hair, letting his own eyes slip closed and dozing off not long after him.

See no evil

We’re reaching the storyarchs boss in our Dnd 5e campaign. We’ve subdued (killed) evil cultists trying to sink the life force of a city into what they call the ‘godchild’ to drench the world in darkness and make their master the supreme god of these lands.

Our party consists of me, the blind cleric Deiva, Rurisc a folk hero fighter big as two barns (20 str), Efrim the bard ( who is also Gwen the Shadow Sorc, sometimes one of the cults upper necromantics and some other people because he’s really Sasha the Changeling) and Skata the Elf Barbarian and the Tabaxi rogue Quickpaw who just joined us (Skata and the Quickpaws players couldn’t make it so they are handled by us but not really… acting out).  

Deiva has felt a great evil forming, a horrid feeling similar to the one she had when she stood infront of her god and got blind. Though that was a good experience. The One True God is a merciful God after all. So she wanders straight into the portal leading to where this Godchild is formed with the determination of a fanatic on a quest.

Rurisc: I..no..what..damn…

Me: I’m going to kill that evil baby!

The others follow. Less eager, since they haven’t felt this godlike presence of Evil. We wander through a fleshy hallway and come upon a malformed fetus. About 4 meters from head to toe. Initiatives are rolled, as the Baby rises to engage us in battle. 

DM: Everyone, on your turn roll a willsave. The sight of this evil might stun you.

Me: Me too? I’m still blind. (The DM continues to forget that Deiva is blind)

DM: No. Not you. You just sense this great evil vaguely formed as a baby.

Efrim: oh god we are in the womb of evil…

Me: Good. I’m going to cut this baby up right here.

The others roll, and fail their will saves.

DM: It’s your turn, Deiva.

Me: Well fuck you baby, you’re going down. 

Roll and hit the baby. We win the battle, the baby explodes. I get downed, as does Rursic. The bard heals Rurisc, he picks me up and they run out of the collapsing womb of evil. Hours later Rurisc has gathered up the 10% of the cities citizens that didn’t get their souls sacrificed before we managed to kill the baby. I’ve had my long rest and meets up with them in the courtyard.

DM: There are parents carrying their dead children in their arms refusing to let go. They are heartbroken.

Me: I am sad too. That was good babies. I only kill evil babies. I try to comfort them. 

DM: Fine… you do that… freak. 

Happy Cinco De Mayo
  • ISFJ: Happy Cinco De Mayo!
  • INTP: It's not even a real holiday. It's the date of a single battle the Mexicans won against the Spanish. The actual Mexican Independence day is September 16th.
  • ISFJ: Yup. It's just another holiday Americans created to drink.
  • INTP: I was told by my Spanish teacher that Americans celebrate Mexican independence on May 5th, because it's easier to say 'cinco de mayo' than it is to say 'diez y seis de septiembre', but I like yours better.