Little background: This was back when I started playing DnD, version 4. I was but a little noob to the game, but my friends were more experienced. We each were playing two characters, and I had a Tiefling warlock and a Rakshasa artificer. One of my friends was DM. We’ll call me Me, him DM, my other friend L, and my OTHER friend A. We were fighting a brown dragon, which is in the chromatic draconomicon of DnD 4th edition.
We come across this dragon in the middle of the desert. It’s burrowing around in the sand under our feet, by it’s not strong enough to tunnel through rock so it can only travel through sand.
We’re standing on a rock with several dead kobolds.
Me: (as artificer) I’ve got an idea. How long does it take to make a clockwork bomb and a flesh patch?
DM: uh, about five minutes each.
Me: (artificer) sweet. Pass me a kobold, L. A, keep the dragon busy.
A:*chucks rocks at the sand to keep the dragon confused, trying to figure out which are footsteps and which are rocks*
I finish making the bombs and patches.
Me: (artificer) ok, can I cut this kobold’s stomach open?
DM: sure, roll for dexterity…?
*i roll a fifteen*
DM: ok, you slice his stomach open. What is the point of-
Me: (artificer) I set the bombs for four rounds and shove them in his abdominal cavity. Then I patch the wound.
DM: you better not be doing what I think you are…
Me: (warlock) I use burning grasp to push him out into the sand. *rolls a seventeen*
DM: you son of a…
Long story short, the dragon ate the kobold-turned-grenade, kept fighting for four rounds, and then promptly keeled over. Unfortunately, the blast also partially collapsed its lair and we didn’t get as much treasure as we could have.
Tl;Dr: I fed a dragon a bomb, he blew up, but karma screwed me over anyway.