We had a new player once. He decided “Hey cool, barbarians sound awesome. I want to be a barbarian trapper. I shall regale you with his antics :
1. Upon entering a dense forest in search of some Kobolds who were preparing to attack a nearby town, Steve rolls perception and spies a deer. He’s bringing up the rear and veers away from the party. We find him later, playing checkers with a band of Pixies in a clearing. Apparently he had rolled a Nat 20 for animal handling and the deer led him here. The deer is nearby just watching. Everyone in the circle turns to look at the party.
Steve : Oh hey guys. These are my friends.
The rest of the party : *Bewildered stare*
Steve : We can’t really talk to each other. But I’ve named them. This little guy is Peter. That one is Vicky. And that little bugger over there is Steve Jr. I’ve always wanted a Steve Jr.
Tiefling rogue : Uh… Steve… We have a mission.
Steve : Oh! Right! *looks at the pixies* Bye guys! We’ll catch up later.
Dwarf Cleric : You sure you’re not a druid?
2. Steve was with the party in a goblin cave. He’s a bit ahead scouting as a meatshield/warning bell. After a few moments we no longer hear him moving ahead of us. We stop, the rogue stealths ahead to find Steve in a side store room sitting at a table with a few goblins. They’re playing some form of poker on a rickety table of explosive powder. Steve is smoking a pipe we’ve never seen before. The rogue brings the party up.
Steve : (in goblin) Oh don’t mind them. Those are my friends. (To the party) Hey guys! Check it out. These dudes are super cool!
The goblins smile and wave.
Tiefling Rogue : Steve… We need to have a chat.
Steve : Sure. What’s up?
Tiefling Rogue : Okay first of all, We think you have a wandering problem. And a gaming problem. Where the hell did you get that pipe? And you -DO- realize we’ve been paid to kill these goblins right?
Steve : Aww… But these dudes are super cool! See? We’re playing poker.
Rogue : Steve. We have to kill them.
Steve : Shame… *turns to the goblins while unlimbering his great axe, aptly named The Axe of Steve* Look fellas. I’m really sorry about this.
3. After arriving at a local farming community and meeting some locals, Steve wanders off to set some traps to check in the morning. The farmers have agreed to purchase anything he catches. It’s been a rough harvest season. The next morning he goes to check the traps. Alone. And finds an owl bear.
Steve : Oh man. Check you out! What a magnificent beautiful bastard you are! (ooc) I’d like to roll animal handling to see if we can be friends. *rolls a Nat 1*
There is a cairn stone in the clearing where we found him with the Pixies. Steve died that day. The owl bear proved to be too much for his gentle nature.
Our party contains naming gems such as Theryn
Moonsparkle, Skaan Tillykladd (scantily clad), Manpip the Turgid and Calov
Quethulu (literally pronounced Call of Cthulu)
Our bard to our fighter, whose player is playing
via video chat so we can’t see his character sheet: ‘on a scale of one to
twenty how charismatic would you say you are?’
Our warlock uses Thaumaturgy to make a dramatic
entrance literally every time he walks in a room, and also talks like Doctor
Orpheus from Venture Bros
Our gnome barbarian was raised by orcs and
therefore has only recently discovered that a) he is a gnome and b) there are
other gnomes out there, and will ask literally any NPC we meet if they’ve seen
a gnome recently
I play a red dragonborn and the DM gave me a
point of inspiration for giving her a Welsh accent
The first NPC we came across was also a red dragonborn - I instantly went for a high five which he interpreted as a handshake and we just ended up awkwardly touching each others faces
He accompanied us on our long voyage at the start of the campaign and it ended up being our secret dragon buddy handshake
Our bard asked the DM if, during a battle, he
could use Message to telepathically convince one of the goblins we were
fighting that his sword was incredibly hot and he should put it down, to which the
DM responded ‘you can certainly try’, the age-old D&D equivalent of ‘that’s
fucking stupid but I’m gonna let you attempt and fail’
The bard then rolled a 19 and this goblin starts
screaming and fucking hurls his sword across the field like a javelin because
he heard a soothing Yorkshire accent in his head saying ‘hey fella, that sword’s
a bit warm, innit?’
Before checking out a potentially goblin-filled
cave our gnome used Minor Illusion to create a ‘sexy lady goblin’ to lure any inhabitants
out. He crit fails and, because this raised-by-orcs gnome has never seen a
goblin before apart from the ones we killed outside, the illusion created is a
horrific Frankenstein hodge-podge of dismembered goblin bits, but with mascara
and lipstick on. It floats judderingly into the cave in a static T-pose, then
clips through the floor and vanishes
The gnome tries again. He crits a second time.
This time the goblin illusion has no head, and the mascara and lipstick are
drawn onto its chest
DM to one of the players: ‘Kane take three points of damage’ ‘what the fuck, did someone ambush us?’ ‘No you promised you’d get me a drink from the kitchen and you fucking forgot’
So, it was my first time DMing, my first time using 5e, and also the players’ first time using 5e, but everyone was having fun. They’d just finished killing some goblins outside a cave and had gone in.
Me (DM): Okay, so you enter the cave and off to your right, there’s a room with some angry wolves chained to stalactites.
[Discussion about can I pet the wolves, what’s the room look like, etc, then]
Player 1: Can we feed the dead goblins to the wolves?
Player 1: Can we chop up the dead goblins and feed their corpses to the wolves?
Player 2: Yeah, they’re dead anyway and maybe the wolves are hungry!
Me: (giving up) I…oh my god, yeah. Sure. Why not? I won’t even make you roll for it, because they’re dead. You chop up the goblin corpses and throw the pieces to the wolves. The wolves whine a little, because they know these goblins, but they’re hungry, so they eat.
Context: This is from very early on in our campain, there are three of us in the party me a Half Elf Paladin, a Fey-Corgi Articifer and a Tiefling Wild Mage. We had been approaching a goblin cave and had one gobiln captive with us. We sent the Tiefling ahead to scout.
Paladin: What happens if the goblin runs ahead and tries to warn everyone that we are coming.
Articifer: Good point maybe we should tie him up.
Paladin: Don’t worry I got this. *I step forward and attempt to knock him out. I roll a nat20*
DM: Ok so you go up behind the Goblin and hit them with the butt of your sword, it caves in his skull. It falls to the floor very much dead.
Paladin: Oh Sh*t, er I didn’t mean too! I mean you saw him struggling right? Right?!
Articifer: You complete idiot Ian!
Tiefling comes back and sees the goblin at my feet: What happened here! I leave you alone for two minutes!
Paladin: Errr a really big tree branch landed on his head…
Articifer: Yeah a tree branch… lets go with that.
I somehow manage to bluff the Tiefling.
Tiefling: Oh ok well. I guess we just need to be more careful in future then…
Now whenever anything bad happens in our campaign its always blamed on a tree branch.
The mint took over Alex’s garden overnight with a disturbing aggression. Sunday evening she had received the box from Aunt Rose, a small note stuck to the cardboard with only the words put outside written on it. For an empty cardboard box it had looked unsuspicious, so she had followed the instructions. Monday morning arrived with the surprise of a new herb next to the basil. Alex inspected it thoroughly, and, when no signs of evilness were found (they were yet to appear unnoticed after the afternoon tea), she left it there. Aunt Rose knew what she was doing. Most of the time. Alex possessed a similar demeanor when it came to her own magic, so she didn’t judge. Aunt Rose was nice company and gave good advice.
Tuesday morning was less fun, and more stress. Her garden was no longer basil, lavender, cilantro, and hollowing honeyplum. Those were gone, devoured by the vicious mint that had covered all fifteen square meters of it. Alex did not know what her reaction should be when she saw the mint leaves swallow the last hollowing honeyplum blossom. They stuck to the petals, and the flower was dragged to the bottom of the green sea. When it was done, the monster mint had the audacity to burp, the gurgling sound as disturbing as the fact that the plant had a consciousness of its own.
Aunt Rose had left on a business trip to the Underworld, so she didn’t pick up her phone. Alex was alone in her freshly smelling time of crisis. This was the only bright side to it, unlike that one time two years ago when a whole family of gnomes with poor personal hygiene had sneaked into her basement and spent there a whole week, during summer. That smell had not been as pleasant.
During a layover in another airport you can’t be bothered to learn the name of, haplessly trapped in between point A and B, you make a quick call to your current base of operations.
A gray-suited stranger awaiting a flight to Belize is happy to lend his cellphone to your cause after only a little sweet-talk, and in exchange you whisper him into a contented stupor. He looks like he could use the rest anyway.
Context: The party has just exited a goblin cave at the dead of night, finding the only alive member of a missing caravan they were searching for. The tabaxi barbarian (my character) and nearly died in a ruthless ambush in the caves, and the party in general hasn’t eaten much despite the elf cleric’s attempts to cook mushrooms (note: they were awful).
DM, to cleric: With your darkvision, you see a rustling in the bushes nearly. It is a fox.
Cleric: I take our my crossbow, load it, and aim it at the fox.
Fighter: Dude what are you-
Cleric: I shoot!
DM, chuckling: Roll to hit.
Cleric: *rolls 12*
DM: It misses, and the fox starts to run away. The party can now see this.
Fighter: WHY ARE YOU SHOOTING AT A FOX-
Cleric: I CAST SACRED FLAME! Dex save, motherfucker.
Me: THIS IS PROBABLY NOT THE MOST EFFICIENT-
DM: *rolls 18 on dexterity save*
Naturally, the party loses their shit knowing their cleric is a shit hunter as well as a shit cook.
DM: WELP, the fox fucking NYOOMS away, living to see another day.
Addendum: The cleric would later cast Sacred Flame on a random bird in the trees.
So I’m playing a 5e game, and we enter a cave with goblins and trained wolves. Our half-org paladin named Reggie (don’t ask) is dealing with the goblins, but one wolf gets past on 1HP. However, me (Dragonborn sorcerer), Khaeloss (Halfling rogue) and Steele (Tiefling rogue) all keep missing and the wolf with 1 HP actually kills Steele and puts me down to 1hp as well. Eventually, we hit the wolf, but Reggie has already killed 2 goblins by then by himself and is waiting for help with the goblin boss. We didn’t even get anything good from the wolf of confusion. D:
An hour’s worth of makeup and hair styling, wandering around my apartment for 20 minutes to find the best lighting and angles to take selfies, and then taking 200 selfies and only posting the best ones. And in nice cosplay pictures, there’s a professional photographer on the other side who’s spending 20 minutes messing around with lighting and taking 200 shots and then taking the 3 best ones and putting them through Photoshop.
Like these are taken about an hour apart. The difference is hair, makeup, and opening my bedroom window curtain for better lighting:
Like don’t get me wrong, I’m super cute all the time no matter what, even when I’m in my Cave Goblin state of being. But I’m not gonna lie, the “HOW????” is usually a bunch of steps that no one sees that make me prettier in my social media life. It’s definitely not how I look 24/7 and it doesn’t come naturally to me and it’s never effortless.