YES! That’s it!
Thanks BraheSilver.
Who else, upon seeing the thread title, was expecting S&M porn related queries?
Sorry, you’re not geeky enough for this thread. Go hang out at a game store and play a few dozen D&D games.
[sub]You should have asked, "Which saving throw do you use against a riding crop of pleasureable pain, Will or Fortitude?[/sub]
I like this version better.
Things like this always remind me I’ve only been playing D&D for 6 years or so.
Sooooooooo, who’s gonna start the new thread?
I just noticed that most of the people in that old thread are no longer with us.
::sigh:: Too bad there aren’t any fun folks around anymore.
:: looks pointedly at all the un-fun folks ::
Man, if you guys are gonna be that mean to the thieves, then I want no part in this!
To be fair, the thieves had it comin’. Or they’d do something to warrant it later, for sure, so it was a pre-emptive “backstabbing and corpse-tossing down a possibly trapped stairway.” No jury would convict us.
8 years? Why, I’ve got pizza stains on my character sheet older than that! I’ll tell ya - these kids today… blah blah blah uphill to the dingeon - both ways blah blah blah giant rust monster and a box of brillo blah blah blah desecrated my Fiend Folio blah blah blah colored in my dices numerals with crayon wax - and liked it!
Damn. dingeon = dungeon; dices = dice’s. And yes, I am pedantic. :smack:
And, of course, that should have read “6 years.” Please kill me. Kill me now.
I’ve never played it at all. Don’t anyone be too surprised.
Ahem.
Your party finds itself in a large, rectangular room. There are torches placed along the stone walls every 20 feet or so. There are exits to the north, east, and west and a large wooden door with metal bars and a large padlock to the south. You hear a dripping noise from the northern corridor.
The magic missle bounces off the wall wounding Corii’s left kneecap: he now walks like Igor in Young Frankenstein, “Walk this way. . .”
After casting the light spell and waiting several minutes for his eyesight to return, Galstaff sees the corpse of a familiar-looking theif behind a pile of rubble itn he southeast corner of the room. BraheSilver stands with his thumbs in his beltloops, nodding proudly.
There is also a mostly-drunk bottle of brandy.
You people really don’t want me to bring my preferred weapon into this, do you?
FaerieBeth announces hereself as a CutCo knife sales associate for Vector Marketing and pulls a small sample case out of her rucksack. She thinks you’ll be very interested in this set, considering your busy lifestyle.
Several party members shriek and withdraw, holding their crossed fingers before their eyes.
Is there a cleric in the party?
Oh, what the hell…Sure, I’m a cleric. 'Course, if anyone expects any hot cure light wounds action, they best make a mantra out of “I’m Hal’s bitch”.
Hal holds a holy symbol aloft, the Seven-Tentacled Squid of Lord Arragggh. FaerieBeth winces and glares for a moment and packs the knives back up, secreting them again into her pack.
The dripping from the north becomes louder, as if it approaches. . .
I’m too cowardly to get up close, can’t be trusted with edged weapons, and am a lousy shot with bows.
::takes out a whip and proceeds to try snapping out one of the torches::