#nebula #travel #space #universe #cosmos #galaxy #galaxies #energy #eye #stars #astronomy #physics #elemental #sorce #explosion

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Not everything needs to be questioned...

Same session as “How we made our DM hate our classes”. This isn’t so much related to those as it is more rules ending up against the DM.

The sorcerer was sent to light the local farms on fire to distract the guards so the monk and rogue to whittle away at the ones in the fort. A guard captain, named Irons, chased after her after she failed to bluff at a funeral she wouldn’t have known about if she were the person she were disguised as. She sets the field on fire and faces Irons by herself. Most of the party kind of hates her and expects her to die, despite her taking down a bunyip by herself earlier in the campaign. They fight in the middle of an inferno and Irons is taking constant fire damage.

Sorc: I will cast resist energy on myself and run out of the fire.

DM: Ok, Irons will follow and swing his magical greatsword at you…


DM: That’s a crit. Any last words?

Me (Monk): Wait, doesn’t heavy armor reduce movement to 20 feet?

Dm: Uhhh, maybe. 

Me: *looks it up* Yeah, plate armor reduces land speed to 20 feet.

DM: Well crap. Yeah, you escape.

The Sorcerer proceeds to basically kite the guard captain through the fire until he dies, getting away with hardly a scratch on her. She charges toward the fort with the captain’s greatsword.

DM: COME ON! Somebody was supposed to die this session!

Me: I immediately regret my actions. Why did I do this?

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.