Pot Head!

[DerVVulfman]

Trust me guys, I didn't come up with this.
I got this from a youtube video recounting pen-n-paper RPG stories.
Unfortunately, no names were attributed.

Pot Head!

I, some friends, and my sister, were playing Tomb of Annihilation.  Among our ranks was a necromancer with a long history of messing with the other party members in various ways, with whom our sorcerer had developed a rivalry.

We were in the middle of combat against a bunch of undead. We were tired and we were sore, since we barely managed to survive a trap not long before. Our necromancer casted fireball (whether out of exhaustion or apathy, we may never know) and killed off all but two of the enemies.

As always, our sorcerer casted his own fireball at an intentionally higher level, this in an attempt to outdo the other caster.  As he was a practitioner of wild magic, we handed the him the 'trusty' die for the result. He shrugged and rolled nonchalantly.

What's the worst that could happen?

As per expected in such a tale, he rolled a nat 1.

The look of horror on everyone's faces as our sorcerer turned into a pot of petunias* must have been incredibly entertaining... That is, everyone except our necromancer.  She, of course, was wearing the grin of a devil on her face.

"I pick up the pot," she declared after combat ends.  She made an arcana check and succeeded with a score of 27 just before, so she knew exactly what was going on.

"Break it!" says our sorcerer.

But she smiled sweetly, and "No" was her only answer.

His shock and anger was nearly palpable, but maybe that was just his sweaty hands, because I was seated right next to him.  He turned to me next.  "You're the bard," he said. "Convince her to break the pot!"

I, of course, deny his request. I had an inkling of an idea as to what she wanted to do with it, but nothing concrete. Besides, I told him, that's meta-gaming. I told him that I didn't know he pot needed to be broken, and I couldn't make that sort of check on her anyway.

Over the next few in-game days, our lovely necromancer protected that pot like she would her own phylactory as if she were a lich. Given this, I wasn't sure if she was or not. And honestly, it wouldn't surprise me if that were the case.

Needless to say, our sorcerer was seething. He couldn't do anything until that pot was broken. And all of us present at the time knew there would be player homicide should that pot be broken.

We said nothing.

Eventually, we come to a winding staircase. It dug straight into the ground, further than any of us could see.  At this point in the dungeon, most of us had begun to figure out that charging head-first into deep, mysterious staircases wasn't the bsest idea. And so, our necromancer proposed an idea.

"Can I drop something down the hole to see how deep it is?" she asked our DM, a physics major.

He agreed wholeheartedly. "Theres rubble scattered all around the place," he replied. "Take your pick."

Our necromancer giggled. And then she said "No thanks," and pulls out the pot of petunias.  Our sorcerer's mouth drops wide open and our DM's eyes widen.

Smiling sweetly, the words "I'm gonna drop it now," sung from her lips.

Our DM nods... slowly.  "You drop the pot down the stairwell. And it shatters like glass at the bottom some three seconds later."

"And how deep would that be?"

"X feet," Because... I don't remember the original number, and I'm not about to calculate it myself.

She nodded and continued smiling as our DM turned to our sorcerer.

He clapped his hands togther.

"Orin," he spoke. "You wake up at the bottom of a very large pit. You see three figures in the distance, looking down at you. They look vaguely humanoid, but it's pretty dim so it's hart to tell. Surrounding you are a trio of four-armed gargoyles.  Roll for initiative."

That rivalry is better than Goku's and Vegita's.  Holy heck...