Trust me guys, I didn't come up with this.
I got this from a comic about guys playing pen-n-paper RPG games.

First, to properly enjoy this story, you need to know a few things.

1. This was my first DnD campaign ever, so I had no idea what to expect.

2. Our party consisted of the following characters:

*A female paladin with a fairly large knife in her chest from the very first battle ever had (one that I unfortunately missed)

*A Samurai (Samurai class and everything) who would, eventually, commit seppuku when he could not defend his homeland. (A sad tale, but not one I will list here.)

*A Gnomish Rogue, who my own character hated intensely for doing my job far, far better than I ever could

*A sorcerer, who would eventually become plot-relevant

*A dwarven Cleric, complete with beer-soaked beard

*Me, a halfling rogue with way too much confidence

Our first session involved raiding a bandit camp to save a girl who may or may not have been the mayor’s daughter (and who would become the cohort for our Paladin). Then we headed South, and along the way, were attacked by a raiding party of goblins. There were very typical goblins and, by all accounts, we should have mopped the floor with them.

Our Paladin could not hit a goblin to save her life, and I couldn’t even get close enough to attack any of them. The DM saw that we were going to die if he let them actually flank our party, so rather than let this happen, he made the goblins very, very stupid. These goblins, you see, were wielding weapons designed for medium-sized creatures, and coming at us through a passage that was just big enough for a goblin, but not big enough for them AND their large weapons.

The goblins, like raccoons trying to get honey out of a log, would not lower their weapons, and proceeded to clumsily amble towards us.

But we were still losing, literally rolling natural 1s over and over, stumbling over each other like fools.

And then a rock came down, out of nowhere, and crushed half the goblins.

The deity of our cleric, St. Cuthberg, spoke directly to us.

DM (St. Cuthberg): You have a great destiny to uphold, but while I was looking down upon my cleric, I realized that you all suck! So I had to help you beat these puny goblins. I hope you’re happy.

And that is how our DM had to bail us out on a random encounter, that we, by all rights, should’ve won easily.

Oh, and my Halfling was at negative HP by the end of the fight. This was the second time this had happened during the campaign. Keep this in mind.

Now, our party needed adamantine from the South because, through an NPC, it was revealed that we would need some to fight the golems our sorcerer’s evil twin brother was making. The dwarves who had the adamantine minds informed us that the caves were infested with snakes, so naturally, we ran in and cleared out the caves (well, THEY cleared out the caves. My 20ft movement rate kept me firmly in the back of the party, doing bugger all). Afterwards, there was a conflict over whether or not we would get the adamantine, and this exchange occurred.



DM (Dwarf King): I’m sorry, we just cannah’ give ye’ tha’ adamantine.

Paladin: In that case, I challenge your weakest warrior to a duel!

Gnome: I accept the challenge!

DM (Dwarf King): Uh…very well! Your Gnome will fight our weakest warrior!

After much confusion, and drawing of a circle, our Gnome went toe-to-toe with essentially the Dwarven equivalent of a book-worm. With the house rules in play, every failed hit allowed a fighter to make a counter-attack. This was an unarmed battle, and the opponent made a lot of AoOs because she (Yes, she) had Imp. Unarmed Strike, and our Gnome did not. Much cheering ensued, and eventually, both fighters managed to knock each other out. Then the Dwarf King approached us.

DM (Dwarf King): Well lads…I must admit…that is easily the sissiest fight I have e’er seen. Me lads will be laughin’ at tha’ one fer’ weeks. But I cannah’ in my right mind give ye’ all this adamantine. So, we’re gonna get ourselves reeeeally really drunk, and THEN I’ll give it to ‘ya.

And after a drunken night of Dwarf Partying, during which our Gnome may or may not have had a one-night stand with the same Dwarf, we left with our metal to find smiths who could shape it into weapons. (I’m…not exactly sure why the Dwarfs couldn’t do it, but for some reason, the Paladin insisted that we go to some random island on the map).

It occurs to me that I forgot to mention our Wizard. We had one, and he had a Tower Shield. An Animated Tower Shield. That he would use to fly overhead and drop alchemic fire on our enemies. And he would use Ghost Sounds to make it sound like a flatulent dragon was invading the bandit camp. Yeah…he’s that kind of player. No, it doesn’t have much to do with this story. But I feel I should mention him, if only for completion sake.


Okay, so on this island, we find that the place we were going to has been invaded by Drow, totally taken over. Breaking through their defenses (and my rogue entirely missing the one session where he could’ve helped disarm some traps), we find ourselves outside of a human battle camp. We need to find out what’s going on, so they send my rogue out to investigate.

I’m very new at this, remember. And I don’t always make the smartest of choices.

So…this happens.

Me: Okay, I sneak into the camp and find the tent with the most official-looking people.

DM: You mean the Generals?

Me: Er…yea, let’s go with that.

DM: Okay, you find their tent. They’re discussing battle tactics and-

Me: I knock.

DM: …What?

Me: I knock on the tent door.

Paladin Player: What, do you just knock on the tent flap?

Me: No I…I knock on the wooden part.

DM: You’re knocking, in the middle of a Battle Camp?

Me: Yeah, what’s wrong with that?

DM: …*Sigh* Okay, everyone inside turns around and spots you. The General yells out “SPY!”, and you are descended upon by everybody in the tent.

Me: Oh…er…do I-

DM: You’re completely dead, a bloody spot in the corner of the tent.

Paladin Player: …Ouch, man.

So, lesson learned. Never try to knock on the door to a battle tent. <.<;

My next character was a bit more creative…I rolled some pretty good stats, so I figured I’d give a neglected race a chance: A half-Orc. But not just any half-orc, a Half-Orc Monk! Strong as an Ox, Fast as a Steed, Wise as an Owl…

And an intelligence of 6.

Yeeah…so they told us to go into the nearby encampment where a Drow Sorceress was keeping dangerous magical beasts (Or something…), and we went into the first room, and fought some skeletons. By then, our Gnome Rogue had left us, and had been replaced by a Warmage. So then…

Warmage: Okay, I search the nearby desk.

DM: Hmm…you find inside a few gold coins and a big brass key.

Warmage: *Pockets the coins for herself* Hey, I found this key! Maybe it’ll open the other door!

Paladin: Well…let’s give it to Gesan. He’s pretty tough. If there’s anything on the other side, he can take the first hit.

Warmage: Okay. *Giving Gesan the Key* Now Gesan, I want you to go and open that door.

Gesan: *nods* Okay. GESAN SMASH!!

Paladin: No, wait!

*Roll- Natural 20*

DM: …Um….okay, so the door shatters into splinters. Way to go.

Paladin: B-But…but we had a key…and…and that key was probably to open that door…and…and now we’ll never know if…aaaaugh!

From then on, they made sure to give me the key, and to make me USE the key when entering a door.