*battle starts* *me watching him slowly finding his way around with his cane*
Me: “…I will feel bad if I hit him like this, won’t I?” *walks up to him* “Uh excuse me sir I don’t feel like fighting you for n—“ *smashed by Ignis* *9999 damage* *insta-killed* WHAT THE HECK, IGNIS??
*me keeps dying from his blizzard balls* WHAT DO YOU THINK I AM, A POKEMON?? STOP THROWING MAGIC BALL AT MY FACE, JERK!
Needless to say after that I didn’t feel that bad bashing him with katana.
Stephen Black in Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell, “The Black Tower”
My skin means that any man may strike me in a public place and never fear the consequence. It means no matter how many books I read, how many languages I master, no matter how diligently I work, I will never be anything but a curiosity.
Well, in my fairy tale campaign, my players had to defeat a silver dragon who was way more powerful than them. But the silver dragon spent much of his time in his humanoid form, and they came into possession of some enchanted manacles that could prevent shapeshifters from changing form. So they decided to try and trick the dragon into the manacles so he would be easier to defeat.
The doppleganger took the form of a princess and seduced the dragon. They were quite successful. Moreso than the rest of the party thought was strictly necessary.
What I’m trying to say is that a non-insignificant portion of tonight’s session was one player fucking a dragon 3 times over the span of a couple hours while the rest of the party hid in a room next door and waited for the signal to attack. After the second time they started questioning their friend’s loyalty. It was a weird session.
Thanks so much to all the kind responses I have received about this story. It totally makes my day, so I appreciate it!It took me a little longer than I expected to get this chapter up, but I hope it was worth the wait.
Emma couldn’t get the blasted pirate out of her mind. It had been about 36 hours since she’d last seen him, and during every one of those hours a random thought about him would cross her mind and she’d be forced to think about him once again. It was extremely irritating.
So, now that she had the ship in some kind of an order and Phelps was at the helm, Emma decided that she couldn’t ignore the man forever. She’d sent Amalia, one of the crew members, to collect him and bring him to her cabin. Just to talk. She was sure that whatever she had experienced around him last time was an aberration that wouldn’t be repeated in the light of day.
Besides, she did have some genuine business with him.
The door opened and he shuffled in, his wrist and ankles bound with chains, closely followed by Amalia. Emma’s heart did an odd little tumble at the sight of him which she desperately ignored.
She gave Amalia a look of annoyance. “Chains?”
“He’s dangerous,” she replied. “Part of our duty as crewmembers on this ship is to keep you safe.”
Emma rolled her eyes. “It would be extremely stupid for him to attack me. And he does not strike me as a stupid man.”
Amalia pressed her lips together to express her disagreement with the statement. Hook, on the other hand, grinned. “Thank you, lass. I believe I’ll take that as a compliment.”