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.
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.
Playing a pathfinder game last night.
High (16) level characters consisting of an elven fae sorcerer with a big cat companion, a human vitalist, a gnome oracle, an elven arcanist and a half orc bloodrager.
We did time shinanigans and screwed up history, now we were trying to get back into an ancient buried church that we had used as our base, preparing to teleport.
Sorc: we don’t know what’s going to be down there, we should buff and stuff before going.
Party: listing off a couple spells/powers used before going
Bloodrager: I’m gonna go enlarge.
Party snickers like school children.
Sorc: don’t do that, I can’t take you if you go enlarge.