Here we go again. Maybe it amuses some people. If not, just pipe up and say so
While everyone was off trying to resurrect the two dead PCs from last session, me and the other player got to play one-off characters for shits and giggles.
Mage: You there! Go and get the king a pike!
GM: The dwarf takes a good look at you, then at his king, at you, at the king, then he walks over to one of the other guards and asks: "What's a pike?"
Mage: A spear, damn you!
Dwarf Priest NPC: We ain't got nothing to do here with such arcane shit.
Cleric: Ugh, guess Necromancer will have to do the job for now.
GM: Necromancer is currently busy piling Warmage's ashes into a neat round pile on the other altar. Then he draws two eyes and a mouth with his finger in the ashes.
Cleric: What's up with that weird relationship between him and.. What's his name again? Warmage?
Druid: Are we going to bring Warmage back as a dracolich?
Mage: No fucking way. He's dangerous enough as a normal mortal. We don't need him dangerous AND without any last shreds of morals.
Ruin: Depends. Which deity does Warmage worship?
Mage: I forget what it's called. Quetzal-something? Ah, no, it was Ehecatl.
Cleric: Are you sure it's not some eldritch abomination?
Ruin: I guess we'll have to walk from Silverymoon. Unless you can siffon spells from a pile of ashes.
Spellsword: Oh, right. I forgot. Mage has lost his spell list last session.
Mage: I CAN cast my own spells! I don't ONLY steal spell slots!
Druid: I guess I'll just wait at the tavern.
GM: Go with the party, damn you! - Is what you hear a voice shout from the forest.
Druid: Silvanus? Is that you? Have you finally noticed me?!
Bard: Hello, nice to meet you. My name is Luciel Elena Blair von Sengendwald. Also known as the Lawful Feather. ..Is there a problem?
Druid: Your name's too short.
GM: There comes a voice from Mage's backpack: "She is a true artist! I can see that from here!"
Bard: Where does this lovely voice come from? Who are you?
Mage's Gremlin Familiar: I am the personal assistant of Allando Roderick Geraldo von Peachtree A'Doro!
Mage: Stop it! Stop twisting my name whichever way you idiots please!
Druid: The poor owl. I I cast a Cure Moderate Wounds and give it 22HP.
GM: The owl is already writing a court case of harassment against you. You touched her unasked!
Potentially Evil Dragon Cultist: I suck on my cigarette and point at Mage's backpack: "Whatever is in there, I like it!"
Mage's Familiar: I like you, too!
Cleric: I throw a snow ball against the backpack. "Shut up!"
Familiar: Ey! That's mean!
Druid: Well, I think the situation is great as always. We killed Lolth's Chosen Warrior before even lunch rolled around today and nobody gives a rat's ass!
GM: Your Familiar is not listening. He's half hanging out of your backpack and talking to Bard: "We killed Lolth's Chosen. Lolth. It's spelled like L o l o l th..."
Bard: Yes. Yes. Thanks you, how kind.
Bard: Can we do something about that giant owl? Can it be brought away?
Druid: Where's that pokeball if you need one, eh?
Mage: I whisper to Druid: "We're not taking either of those clowns with us."
Druid: Is this one of those statements of yours? Like "We'll never go down to the Underdark"? Right before we do it?
Mage: Oh well, the we WILL take them with us, but they're going to have an accident on the way.
Bard: I have a sneaking suspicion that Mage does not like my new player character.
GM: Your Familiar is still hanging out of your backpack and telling Bard the juiciest stories.
Mage: He's never been THIS actie before. I am getting worried. Familiar, come on, you can't be serious about her.
Bard: Yes, yes, and what happened to the gold-shitting lizard you used to have with you?
Familiar: His head exploded because of a magical headband our druid, also known as the Ruler of Devils, had given him as a wise precaution.
Mage: Will you shut up?!
Mage: Pretty sure out lizard folk monk was not giving out gold on every corner. It was bread.
GM: We're working here with several layers of fake news, in case you hadn't noticed.
Mage: Hey, Necromancer. Whatever you did with Spellsword the last time she died... Can you do that thing again?
Necromancer: Ehrm...
Mage: I see. And here I though I was the guy to do spells by the seat of my pants.
GM: As you can see now, Necromancer has been secretly learning from you.
Mage: I use our mindlink to speak to my precious Familiar: "Remember, this is a matter of life and death! No talking about the white dragon! We've got this one suspicious person with us who's potentially a member of the Cult of the Dragon and she might get REALLY pissed if she finds out we've just killed a dragon!"
Familiar: Distract her, then! Tell her Ruin's a dracolich! - By the way, he shouts that aloud across the hall.
Mage: Oh for fuck's sake!
Druid: Have you ever heard the elven name Incariol?
Librarian: I don't know? Which elven subrace was he from?
Druid: Something deathly grey, I think?
Cultist: The next time Ruin happens to turn around he will find that I've crept closer and am sniffing at his cloak.
GM: He's not too happy about that. Forced smiles and all.
GM: You can hear a hissing sound coming from the potential Cultist's collar.
Cleric: That doesn't sound good. She should visit a doctor. Why not do so now?
Mage: Ruin, listen! We could teleport TODAY!
Ruin: How? Has one of you found a stray Teleport in his spell list?
Mage: Well, there's this certain young lady over there in the purple robes...
Ruin: Oh, I'm sure such a lovely lady would not want to find herself in the ruins of Hellgate Keep. Why would she ever want to see that much dirt?
Mage: Hey, she's certainly a big admirer od dragons and would probably love to see a citadelle built by one.
Ruin: There's not much left of it, though.
Mage: Well, but it was destroyed by a dragon, too!
Cultist: Indeed! Indeed!
Mage: I tap on Cultist's shoulder. - "Don't get scared when he shapeshifts."
Cultist: I just innocently flutter my eyelashes at you.
Mage: Oh, so you already know he's a dracolich? Should've figured as much.
Cultist: Uhuh.
Mage: Let's go, climb on board. At least it's so cold up there our two new party members will finally shut up. I hope.
Druid: What's that?
Bard: My pure-bred cat.
Mage: Is it as pure-bred as that owl you rode into a wall earlier today?
Bard: Of course not. I've just... heard rumors. I was fully prepared for my mount to die should I manage to locate you.
GM: You hear Ruin in your thoughts: "Look, finally someone who knows what it's like to travel with you."
Mage: Did he... Did he really just cast a telepathy spell just to diss me?
GM: Yes.
Mage, whiny: I don't want any damn bardic guild on my tracks!
Druid, copying the whiny voice: Not again that pesky Greyhawk Gazette!
GM: Ruin is glad to show you around Hellgate Keep, of yourse. - "Well, here's the market square, over there is the chruch and behind that there use to live some people. There. Done. Go away."
Cultist: I'd like to point out that one the so called dumasses here is not as dumb as she may look.
Bard: Ow, how nice of you! I can give the compliment right back, though.
GM: What you're now reading is basically like the Silmarillion, but way thicker.
Mage: So, basically a Moria-situation, but with elves.
GM: Moria-elves in the Abyss.
Mage: Doesn't that sound great...
Mage to Bard: Look, black magic pearls that can call black magic fortresses from another plane are a no-go topic down here... Have you found anything interesting about it?
Mage: Well, we could try and find Warmage's old Abyssal fortress again, turn it into a flying citadell and use it to travel the planes in comfort... It's not like he needs it anymore.
Bard: Is there a workroom over there?
Ruin: Not at all.
Bard: Is the way to it studded with traps?
Ruin: Any hypothetical workroom down here would be one giant trap if there even was one. - He glares at you to drive the point home.
Ruin: It's not bad, it's just that most people are bothered when the plane they're on gradually sucks their life energy out of them.
Mage: But you're actively suppressing that right now?
Ruin: Yes, mostly. - He says with a side glance at Cultist.
Mage: Note to self: eat an apple when back on the surface.
Druid: Is is just the plane or do you have people who regularly come down and clean here?
GM: Do you ask that aloud?
Druid: I ask that quietly.
GM: Then you're not getting an answer.
GM: As soon as you sit down at the table there appears food and drink for you.
Cultist: How neat!
Bard: Is that food locally produced, though?
Ruin: I dearly hope that it is not.
Bard: But it would be ecologically much more efficient and probably more tasty if it was locally produced.
Mage: What about "plane of darkness" did you not understand?
Bard: Oh, are dragons an endangered species?
Mage: They will be if we keep going like this.
Mage: I'm getting the sneaking suspicion that all of thise was a huge mistake...
Mage: Look, Cleric, I'll be frank here. I know you dwarves and the orcs aren't exactly friends and such, but we've got a world to safe, so our anonymous... donation to the orcish war chest HAS to remain a secret. Get it?
Familiar: Quite right, as the saying goes, you always see each other twice in life. Even if it's the mighty king of Giat.
Mage: Remember that when he's shooting lightning at us the next time, because I AM going to run away. With my backpack and its contents facing back towards him.
Familiar: If you already know this, how about getting used to wearing your backpack in the front?
Spellsword: If I was able to feel anything at all, I would have a headache now.
Mage: Hey! Great to see you! Let me hug you!
Drow NPC: Yes! - You notice how he's fingering you ass.
Mage: Great. I'm just going to ignore that.
GM: Pity. He now pulls a giant abacus from his tiny pant pocket and starts calculating what you owe him.
Drow NPC: Do you want one or two of my people with you?
Mage: The king pays, so I'm going to say two.
Mage: How are your spell slots for today faring?
Warmage: I'll let the GM decide.
GM: Since you're technically still in the same day as yesterday after being resurrected, whatver you had left you still have available.
Warmage: So pretty much everything. It's not like I managed to cast a lot yesterday.
GM: True, that.
GM, describing an orc village: There are a lot of orcs, doing orc things.
Spellsword: Can I take some time off while you talk to the warlord?
Mage: What, do you want to randomly punch people again?
Druid: "Excuse me, sir, would you be up to having a brawl? I am frustrated."
Druid: Wait, something about "no beer before four o'clock"... Eh, fuck it. It's past four in the morning, let's go find a tavern.
Druid: Hey, where can I get something to drink hereabouts?
Orc: Well, we've got two big taverns here, but they both only sell alcohol after five o'clock.
Mage: Right. Well, what other shops do we have here? Since we've got time to waste.
GM: There's a market square, but it is empty because it's past lunch and everyone went home already.
Mage: I see, there's been a lot of "getting cultured" going around this place in the past hundred years.
Warmage: Are you serious? Where are we? In the Orc Edition of Age of Empires?
Druid: You know what? We've got to keep secrets from all of out allies. We've got to keep secrets from the king. I'm going to sit my furry ass in a tavern right now, buy myself an apple spritzer and tell the first orc who cares to listen EVERYTHING.
Mage: You're not having a mental break down right now, are you?
This post has been edited by Puck: 20 January 2019 - 10:48 PM