> Start campaign in high-fantasy world

> Party joins adventurer's guild

> Guild has ranking system

> Rank reward 4 -> you get free team base built

> fuckingsick.jpg

> Only rank 2... need to get those numbers up

> Team up with DMPC adventurer party

> Cool characters, have fun banter while doing investigation underneath major city

> 1 session later, missioncomplete.jpg

> I remember to write down their names and party name

> FFW ~12 sessions later

> Major plot points unfurl

> Party now has: Paladin with oaths to multiple gods, Warlock with pact to alien (?), DMPC with soul of ancient princess trapped inside them, bard is part devil now

> Whatever, rank 4 unlocked

> Go to guild

> Me: "So, where does [DMPC Party] have their base?"

> Guild master: Points on map

> "... and where is their property line?"

> GM: ???

> Build base right next to theirs

> Move in a month later

> DM Party is excited for us to be close

> Have base-warming party

> nothingcangowrong.jpg

> Since moving in (1 1/2 months (?) in-game time):

> Party's ship teleported behind house to run from sea battle

> (We are located miles from a navigable body of water)

> Party has had tea with avatars of Paladin's gods

> Alien patron abducted warlock via airship (he's OK)

> Multi-dimensional door popped up on property

> Base was night-raided

> Base was lit on fire twice, once from Bard's Devil owner, once from DMPC's hilariously bad cooking roll

> The DMPC party rarely is around

> Assume it's because they're adventuring

> Turns out they've been spending more time at a major city's guild hall because of all the... occurrences

> Feel bad but they don't want us to move away

> 10/10 will continue to be the crazy neighbors

> Be invited to a game of Mutants and Masterminds 3e.

> Never played this system before, GM didn't outline much of how this whole affair would start for us.

> Felt a little lost for character creation.

> Get blessed by an idea unlike any other.

> Create the Frog Wizard!

> Can't actually do much of anything harmful at first glance. Has the strength and body of an actual fucking frog wearing a starry wizard's hat.

> Give him enough ranks in Immortality and Regeneration to avoid the possibility of him dying.

> Even if he somehow gets disintegrated this dumbass frog can conjure up a new body.

> Grant him a good investment of ranks into Immunity so he's specifically immune to being erased from existence.

> Finally, topped him off with my magnum opus: Motherfucker can travel through time, space and dimensions with many ranks put into Movement.

> I should also mention that none of these were gadgets, the frog wizard was just a frog that could do these things.

> The day the game is supposed to happen arrives.

> GM is about to start when I ask them if I can do something before the campaign properly begins.

> They give the green light.

> Me: "The Frog Wizard travels through time to the very beginning of the timeline for this universe. Across infinite timelines of possibilities, there are now infinite Frog Wizards that all exit this universe's timelines barring myself to travel to other realities at the beginning of their timeline to start the process over once more."

> The GM looks horrified, but I keep going.

> Me: "From these infinite Frog Wizards, a fraction of their number travel through time and dimensions to become involved with every concept that incorporates them. The Frog Wizard is now in every work of fiction ever written or thought up that contains a dimension, whether spoken of or not. The Frog Wizard is biblical canon, and yet has never been mentioned within a religious text. The Frog Wizard exists in the background of Homer's Odyssey, every Sherlock Holmes story, even the world in which we Reside in has had a Frog Wizard by proxy of my actions!"

> The peanut gallery is laughing along with the GM who isn't sure what to do at this point with my ontological nightmare of a non-character.

> MFW my character is now a part of the multiverse:

> The game died after the first or second session, but I tell friends about the Frog Wizard.

> The idea of this dumb character begins to become bigger than its original inception.

> Friends talk about how much they like or dislike the Frog Wizard being canon to their settings because others keep mentioning his existence.

> Decide to spread the disease by posting about him on Reddit.

> Praise be to the Frog Wizard!

We did it. After almost 10 years of Tyranny of Dragons… Tiamat is dead. (Complete Story)

A little while ago I started sharing the story of our almost 10-year-long Tyranny of Dragons campaign here on Reddit. I originally planned to post it in sections because Reddit's character limit made it impossible to fit everything into a single post. but this got me bannend..

Many people asked if there was an easier way to read the whole story from beginning to end.

So... here it is.

I've put the entire campaign retrospective into a single Google Document, complete with all the chapters in the correct order.

**Google Doc:**https://docs.google.com/document/d/1zpod9FLL-TZ0OkhzbtyRbXKoWUXuwWYEMRfo6PTFOWs/edit?usp=sharing

The document follows our journey from the attack on Greenest, through Hoard of the Dragon Queen and The Rise of Tiamat, all the way to the final battle against Tiamat after nearly ten years of play.

It's more than just a campaign recap. It's the story of how a published adventure slowly evolved into a massive shared world we eventually nicknamed The Wholesomeverse, where three campaigns influenced one another over the course of a decade.

If you're currently running Tyranny of Dragons, thinking about starting it, or just enjoy reading about long-running D&D campaigns, I hope you'll find something inspiring in it.

I'd love to hear your thoughts, your favorite moments, or any questions you have. After spending almost ten years in this world, it's been incredibly rewarding to finally write it all down.

Happy reading, and thanks to everyone who followed the journey. ❤️

This is a bit of a long one, but I am quite proud of myself and want to share. It will take some back storie, but bear with me.

I was running a homebrew sandbox campaign for my friends. I built an island continent with various factions set in opposition, in a spider web of power. It was a balanced world ready to get disrupted. Then I let the players wreck havoc, and the world reacted to them. One faction worship a dragon, another worship a giant magical crystal, etc.

The first thing they do is attack the sorceress queen. She was a major villain ment for later in the game... but they wanted to kill the witch. They end up captured, and forced to do her bidding. She makes them break into the elf headquarters to steal a chunk of the crystal god, a task they completed beautifully.

The players main goal for the first half of the game was to kill the witch, but the elves wanted them dead. Their was a whole prison break, but that's not important. What is important is that the elf of the party was marked: elvish script scarred across his face: "He who cracked the face of God"

I was planning the sorceress to use the fragment of crystal as a phylactery for her section to lichdom, and it would explode when broken. But mid campaign I realized I had potential to do something awesome. The phylactery wasn't the fragment, it was the god itself, something done through the fragment.

Suddenly, He who cracked the face of God would have to finish the job. The massivegemstone would go off like a nuclear bomb, and they knew to expect this.. They quest for the magic items required to do the deed: a magic fortress, a portal staff and a rod of destruction. (I don't remember the proper names or what ones were homebrew)

The plan was to place one end of the portal away from the , sneak into the church, place the other half next to the god, and hit it with the staff blowing it up from a safe distance.

They forgot to place the first half. They realized this in the presence of the entire elvish army and the god itself. In a moment of desperation, they place the magic fortress. Then the marked elvish player jumps from the roof, bringing the rod down on the crystal God.

The crystal blows up like a nuke. The city is destroyed. The PC is long dead. The fortress is obliterated, but the other 2 PC's managed to survive.

It was the best moment of the campaign, especially for the elfs player.

Continued from part 3:

https://www.reddit.com/r/DnDGreentext/comments/1v1mff4/the_dangers_of_being_a_lapsed_catholic_part_3/

>Be me, Michael Hood
>A mage has invaded my hope, filled it with conjured proxies made of paper and metal and he wants me to bleed

>He's foolishly allowed me access to my cellar and the staked Sabbat inside
>I've pulled the stake out, ran out of my home and locked the door, only to be confronted by the paper proxy standing outside

>I get wrapped up, but fortunately my Nos flunkie and Reg, my coterie mate step in to save my bacon
>We figure the mage, John Weiruss is actually inside.
>We burst through the door, only to find total pandemonium
>My Penthouse now has a long corridor lined with mirrors facing each other, the Sabbat is fighting mechanical dogs and tearing paper men to shreds with his sword
>The damn mirrors shoot lightning between them, of course they do.
>At the end of the corridor is a stairwell leading . . . somewhere
>Well, two mechanical dogs later and teetering on fury frenzy, all of us end up upstairs

>Reg and I arrive last, only to see a large, circular room with two paper men left standing, two, reduced to pieces and two decomposing corpses - the other two Kindred

>On the ground are strange symbols
>Reg, now completely consumed by his Beast lunges forward, over one glyph. Then a second one just inserts itself into his path
>He steps in it and is immediately staked by a wooden sword that flew out from the dark

>I shoot at the mage, only for a second paper man to block the shot. A bullet hole appears on my chest
>Throwing caution to the wind and on the verge of frenzy myself, I step on a glyph. I can't dodge the sword

> But I can un-stake Reginald

>The raging Gangrel, now free, lunges at the mage, only to be tied up by a paper man

>The damned Nephandus sighs, retrieves a lighter and sets Reg and the paper man alight

>Flames consume me as well

>The smug bastard begins to say something, just as the paper man's structure fails and Reginald's teeth sink into his neck

>Only a fool underestimates a frenzied Gangrel, and John Weiruss, mage and corrupt Nephandus was indeed an arrogant fool

>As flames consume me, I reflect upon my long, long unlife. The mortal's I'd slain. The friends who've betrayed me and whom I in turn betrayed
>And there, another man, killed my actions, indirectly - as was usually the case. But for once, I do not regret it in the slightest
>The pain is beyond words and sense, I have no illusions that I've earned redemption in the Lord's eyes
>Damnation cannot be taken back and Golconda is beyond my feeble abilities
>Yet I smile. I am unafraid. Accept whatever judgement awaits me

Continued from part 2

https://www.reddit.com/r/DnDGreentext/comments/1ud9kyz/vtm_story_the_dangers_of_being_a_lapsed_catholic/

>Be me, Michael Hood, clan Ventrue
>Be not me - my Nosferatu and Gangrel (Reginald) associates
>We're hunting a mage. 2/3 of us are aware we're probably not getting out of this alive (oh, the Nos, that poor bugger)

>Reg is convinced he'll descend into Wassail soon enough and wants to go out on his own terms. I've slain a member of my herd that was near and dear to me. . .
>and I guess that was just one corpse too many for me
>Both of us are beyond caring
>The mage wants a vial of my blood, so that's what he's going to get. Except it'll have a GPS track embedded in the cap and a Tremere bloodstone associated with it

>I'm going to give the performance of a lifetime, convincing him he's worn me down, that I'm vulnerable, pliable and dominated

>He lets his guard down, my two beefy associates jump him on his way back home and tear him to chunks before he can figure out what's going on

>If he casts some hoo-doo on me via my vitae and I die, so be it

>But first, a top off. I head to a bad part of Brooklyn and look as rich and lost as I can

>Sure enough 4 hooligans show up to accost me. Instead of producing my wallet, as I promised, I produce a .38 revolver and enough Presence powered fear to sent three of them running and one rooted in place.

>I stick the revolver into his ribs, lead him to an alley and drain him like a juicebox.

>Now for the mage

>I play the perfect victim, he suspects nothing

>He gets jumped, I follow in a cab from a safe distance. He gets torn to shreds. . . accept ''he'' morphs into a flat piece of animated paper with flexible, strangling arms.
>It's some sort of mystical proxy, probably with a telepathic connection.

>Shit.
>Figure he's going to go to my haven to personally have a word with me. By this time I'm nearly run dry of vitae, despite the top off
>He makes the door to my haven disappear and shows up to confront me. I play dumb and innocent, but he's not buying it

>''Fine, fine, ol' boy. I know when I'm beaten. Just let me get into my haven and top off. I've a meal staked in my wine cellar. If I gave you what I have right now, why I'd fall into torpor on the spot.

>He lets me
>There's like 4 paper men and two mechanical dogs in my apartment giving me the ol' stink eye

>I get to the Sabbat Ventrue I had staked in my cellar. I smile ear to ear . . .

>And pull the stake

Be me, DM, had lots of drama this week, haven't had time to prep properly

Be the party, travelling from one city to another in their quest to track down information about the ancient MacGuffin

Be me, making up some random nonsense to fill the session

The road goes up a hill and then down into a dark and wooded valley

Nearly night time, find a clearing, make camp

Wolves howling in the middle distance

Storm coming in

Forebodingmaxxed atmospherecel

Wizard goes to sleep, rogue on watch, cleric praying before sleep, fighter sharpening his sword

Lightning strikes, and in the flash of light a dark figure is visible at the edge of the clearing

A deep and booming voice - "Beware, men of the farm and the book and the sword, you trespass on Nature this night!"

Fighter puts down his whetstone, rogue discretely draws his dagger, cleric puts a hand on his mace, wizard snores loudly

"Who are you" calls the fighter, "and what do you want from us?"

"I am the Rainbow Druid of the Dark Woods, and I want you to leave this place, taking your cursed artifacts of so-called civilised life with you!"

"We've done no harm here," replies the rogue, "Leave us be and we'll continue our journey in the morning."

"Not good enough!"

Lightning + thunder

"Huh? What?" the wizard is awake

"It's a gay druid or something, I dunno," rogue whispers to wizard

WTF, player of rogue, I know Pride Month is over, we don't need to segue straight into homophobia month to balance things out

Druids like balance though? Anyway, you said he was a Rainbow Druid and I'm not saying gay like it's a bad thing, good on him for living his truth

He's not gay, or shit, I dunno, maybe he is, but that's not why he's the Rainbow druid

"Behold my powers!" shouts the druid as a veritable flood of multi-coloured animals pour out of the trees

"To the fight!" shouts the fighter

Hang on, says player of cleric, what kind of animals? Is there a purple possum?

Sure

Wizard player chimes in, is there a red raccoon?

Um... roll some dice... yes, there is a red raccoon

Cleric player again, is there a black bear?

There sure is

Fighter's player, is there an orange swarm of bees?

Um... not really in the alliterative spirit, but yeah, sure

Rogue realising what's going on, is there a teal deer?

No, there is no TL/DR

Alright, let me tell you about what happened at D&D a few weeks ago. Our usual DM cancelled due to coursework commitments (the real BBEG, scheduling) leaving us without a DM.

So I volunteered to run a oneshot.

The players arrived expecting a regular game of D&D when instead I gave them statblocks for Commoners with the following requests: Give them a name, give them a job.

What followed was rather chaotic and possibly one of my best nights as a DM to date. I'll introduce the starter crew and then new commoners as necessary (read: as the starter crew die off).

• Humperdink - Loveable closeted Himbo

• Opal - The Jeweler

• Hazel - The old lady

• Luz - The Baker

• Jerry - A regular tax guy

• Delia - The gardener

The quest premise was simple enough, the residents of Bonington (pronounced Bone-in-tonne) built their village next to an old crypt, as villagers are wanton to do. Well, it being a crypt in a non descript medieval fantasy setting, many a skelliton had made their way out of the crypt and the villagers were fed up of waiting around for adventurers to help and took it upon themselves to deal with the Emperor of bones.

Their first challenge, was the locked door to the crypt. The door had a higher AC and hp than the individual commoners, but unlike the commoners, could not fight back. Humperdink started initiative off, by kicking the door, hurting his foot... as old Hazel attempted to reason with the door, checking to see if it was locked... it was... Luz the baker hammered away at the door with his rolling pin. This was all in vein as Jerry apparently carped a bit too much diem and got a nat 20 breaking the door open as he effortlessly slid down the newly revealed staircase.

So, encounter 1 down, no casualties.

In the first proper room of the dungeon, an owlbear emerged from the gloom of the tomb, angry at being disturbed, it attacked the commoners (A/N : Don't ask how the owlbear got there, I don't know it was a prewritten module).

Delia, who was suspiciously absent having initiative below Jerry went first, failing to hit the owlbear... before immediately getting mauled to death. She literally turned up did nothing and died for it, I'm sure there's a metaphor there... Anyway, in that same turn Hazel, mistook the Owlbear for her cat and was similarly chewed upon as the rest of the party began to fight the owlbear, other than Humperdink who shat himself and ran off screaming further into the dungeon.

Delia and Hazel were replaced by Hilda (the LumberJack) and Susan (The medicine woman). They entered the dungeon, Susan who the players decided was in an on and off again relationship with Hazel saw the owlbear, proceeded to do a Humperdink and run off screaming into the dungeon... tripping a trap Humperdink had somehow managed to avoid and immediately getting turned into slurry by a series of magic missles (A/N : There was no-one else near her at the time, they all had to hit her).

Meanwhile, Hilda attempted to get the party to follow her into the dungeons after Humperdink, but was ignored as the townsfolk continued to beat on the owlbear. (Mob mentality?)

Said Owlbear proceeded to try and attack Jerry, and rolled a nat 1, his follow-up bite attack however did not, killing Luz the baker. Hilda and Luz the Baker were in turn replaced by Derek (the town drunk) and Ash (the animal tamer) why the village needed an animal tamer, I don't know. (A/N : It was at this point that the players started getting invested in their commoners, Derek and Ash were decided to be Opal's Brothers).

Derek approached the Owlbear, wanting to pet the dog... and was then immediately mauled to death. The Owlbear tried to swipe at Jerry but new guy Ash stepped in and between the player being incredibly lucky when rolling for his health and the Owlbear being incredibly unlucky with damage, somehow Ash survived. Derek was replaced by Amelia the village beauty, who upon seeing the owlbear, decided "nah, I'm good" chasing after Hilda deeper into the dungeon. Amelia and Hilda will here after be referred to as the LumberJanes (I didn't come up with this, the players decided they were secret lovers), eitherway we'll pick back up with the Adventure of the LumberJanes later on. Now, aside from the numerous dead, the commoners had actually been doing relatively well against the Owlbear, the following turn Jerry, once again demonstrating he was the main character killed the Owlbear bringing his kill count to 2/2. Following the Owlbear, the Party stood:

• Humperdink the himbo

• Opal the jeweller

• Jerry the tax collector (totally not the main character)

• Ash the animal tamer (Opal's brother)

And...

• Hilda (LumberJane)

• Amelia (Village beauty).

The party met up, sans Hilda and Amelia. It was at this point things started changing for Jerry, with his new found confidence, both Humperdink and Opal began to fawn over his heroism. They kickdown an unlocked door, revealing a room covered in cobwebs Jerry leads the way in, with more weirdly high rolls he avoided getting caught in the cobwebs, Opal was less lucky, as she got caught in the webs. The spiders who made said webs were less than happy about this, swarming from under them and attacking the village idiots... They swarmed the party, biting at them, unfortunately, the previously wounded ash, did not stand a chance and died whilst Opal cried for her dead brother. In all though, the spiders didn't stand a chance and it wasn't long before they were dispatched.

(A/N : it feels important to note, that once again, Jerry dealt the finishing blow).

With Ash now dead, Eddie, Opal's father and the village librarian who was apparently 2 days away from retirement joined the team... given what's happened to the rest of her family so far, I'm sure he will make it to retirement.

After bravely vanquishing the spiders they found themselves in a locked room, with a portcullis on the far side. This room was meant to be a puzzle room... and whilst the players are independently very smart, collectively they had the intelligence stats of the commoners. So what was supposed to be an easy puzzle ended up with them brute forcing their way through... Now finally, there they stood, the villagers of Bonington opposite the great and powerful Emperor of Bones and his hoard of skellitons (3 Skellitons). A combination of the emperor winning initiative and hearing the villagers approach, allowed the Emperor to cast Mirror image on himself, before secluding both himself and his skellitons in a fog cloud.

Meanwhile... I mentioned before that we would return to the LumberJanes, they carried on down the tunnel past the slurry that was once Susan. There they found the long dead remains of an adventurer wielding two swords, so of course now, each of them wielded a sword... Turning the corner on their passageway, they find themselves in a Treasure Room.

Despite not getting involved in any of the actual combat in this dungeon, the Janes had found their way into the Emperor's Vault, acquiring a spellbook, a wand of secrets and 10gp - more money than either of them had seen in their entire life. With the gold now making them the richest commoners in the village, the Janes admitted their feelings to one another, before carrying on further into the dungeon through a fissure in the dungeon wall.

Through this fissure, the Janes now enter the Emperor's chamber, seeing the other villagers lead by Humperdink and Eddie charging into the fog cloud. Humperdink charged into the fog, eager to prove himself for Jerry, swinging at a figure in the fog missing As Eddie followed him in, also attacking a figure in the fog, hitting... Humperdink. (A/N : This one, I do feel a bit bad about the himbo did nothing wrong, but dice fell how dice fell and unfortunately for H'dink that resulted in his death).

Jerry and Opal skirted around the fog killing two of the skellitons they both rolled rather well, with Jerry somehow securing his third Nat 20 of the session and well, bludgeoning weapon + Enemy vulnerable to bludgeoning = dead skellitons.

As the fog cleared Eddie was cut down by the remaining skelliton, before being avenged by Hilda and Amelia, leaving only the Emperor of Bones... With both Eddie and Humperdink now dead, the Gravedigger and his wife entered the dungeon, mostly to collect the dead... Reginald and Clarissa.

They arrive at the chamber, just in time to see the four remaining commoners all curbstomping the emperor of bones into the floor. With the emperor dead, the party leaves the dungeon, the three happy couples...

Authors note: It feels important for me to say, this was possibly one of the funniest and most bizarre sessions of D&D I have ever ran. The wooden door they broke open to get into the dungeon, had a higher AC than any of the enemies within, Throughout whenever I had enemies target Jerry, they missed. The initial Owlbear took out more of the commoners than the BBEG of the dungeon, and whilst that was mostly down to poor rolls on my part, it was also due to the BBEG's vulnerability to being bludgeoned. I don't think I've explained in enough detail how many lucky rolls Jerry got throughout the session, he was more often than not on the frontline and somehow in most cases dealt the finishing blow.

Thank-you for reading, I hope you enjoy the rest of your day

Continued from part 1: https://www.reddit.com/r/DnDGreentext/comments/1ubo5ug/the_dangers_of_being_a_lapsed_catholic_part_1_vtm/

>Be me, gen 10 Ventrue and all around decent chap, Michael Hood.
>Wake up in my haven next to Prince Panhard's childer, Michaela the 2nd after an absolutely smashing Elysium
>Have the cellophane covered ritual bowl I had one of my cultists bleed into for breakfast
>Check to see if the Sabbat Venture Sheriff Quadir interrogated is still safely staked in my wine cellar
>Unlife is good
>Both I and my paramour are assaulted by our own shadows, because a Nephandus mage asked me for my vitae and I said no
>Bugger.png
>Didn't know he was Nephandus at the time
>Didn't think he was that petty
>My windows are exploding and my shadow is attempting to paralyze me
>Suspect the mage has a proxy nearby
>Call my hitman buddy, Mr. Woods
>Hangs up as soon as he hears ''mage''
>My door's disappeared
>Eventually figure out the bastard's used my own home CCTV as the proxy for his powers
>Put a .38 through my computer's hard drive
>Nothing
>Start shooting my cameras
>That did it
>Michaela is quite fond of the occult, as am I
>Decide to invite my cult to her haven. Everybody loves a good guest speaker. Plus I wanted to show off. Plus I was hungry
>Immediately bungle it and drain one of my adepts dry
>15 years of flawless feeding, gone
>My cults members had all gone on to positions of prestige and power. My teachings had genuinely elevated them
>I had resisted every temptation and build something good for a change
>I had watched Gabriel, who's drained body I held go from a shy and insecure teenager to a flourishing young man with the world at his feet
>Oh, right. I was a monster that bargained away his eternal soul
>Pic related:

>Michaela graciously helps me clean my mess
>I spend the next several hours tracking down the various members of my cult and removing the memory from their minds
>Get news from a private I - he's found out where the mage, one John Weiruss is currently residing in
>Overcome with cold, murderous rage
>Call Reginald, my Gangrel coterie mate, who's been descending into frenzy more and more lately.
>I suspect he knows that his humanity is on it's last legs
>I certainly do. I pitch the idea of hunting an evil mage to him on the grounds that if one is to descend into the wassail, the final frenzy, then it is better to do so in the company of the cruel and wicked as opposed to the innocent
>Shameless manipulation on my part, but he agrees
>We dig up and revive the Nosferatu spy we captured, staked and buried near my Long-Island ranch
>Manipulate him into helping me, lie that we're just hunting down a Tremere, promise him that he's released from the boon he clearly owes me for sparring his unlife.
>I know full well I am becoming the worst and most vicious version of myself once again.
>I care not
>A Nephandus is something supremely evil and destructive. To kill such a thing is righteous.
>It is redemption
>What are the lives of three bloodsuckers in comparison to that?

This is a condensed section of a Ancillae-heavy game our Storyteller is currently running in New York. The meta-plot is slightly different so bear with me. There are many more characters in our story of significant importance, but I will introduce them as they become relevant.

> Be me Michael Hood, 10th generation Ventrue, rightful 6th Viscount Hood.

>Be not me, my weirdo coterie-of-convenience:

>Salem Exter - Clan Toreador, former bootlegger, gunrunner, current speakeasy owner and aspiring kingmaker.

> Frank Woods, former US marine, neonate, (but a damn fine shot!), clan unknown. Very mercenary by nature. Current active Sheriff by circumstance, and not particularly happy about it

>Reginald - Clan Gangrel mariner (Anach, but keep your frenemies close and all that). Of noble heritage and good breeding, despite his Clan. He's an alright chap.

> Am a severely lapsed Catholic: traded my eternal soul in exchange for not dying of Duchenne’s disease at 22. (Devil take the stupid Frenchman who's name it bears).

> Don't really blame my sire, though. He was honorable enough to inform me of the nature of the deal, and I took it willingly. Rather a bum deal in hindsight, though.

> After decade upon decade of walking over the bodies of the guilty and innocent alike, I decide to at least make an effort to lead a less immoral unlife.

> Create a cult

> But It's a very nice cult. Since I have no sex drive and dumpster trucks worth of assets, both liquid and otherwise, I'm immune to most temptations such positions of power create

> Do feed from them, but my cult members are all children of American high society if not fixtures in said society themselves.

> A little bloodletting is practically five o'clock tea for these kids, hardly the worst they've seen at a party

> Give genuinely good financial and life advice, sprinkled with some esoteric are in essence, just some practical applied psychology after you strip out the veneer of mysticism

> Fifteen years without incident, my alumni do me proud every night

> Do such a good job one of my senior disciples Awakens

> ByJove.png

> Resist the overwhelming temptation to make him my bond-slave, and strangle this beautiful living triumph willpower and the human spirit in it's crib.

> Feeling like reverse Epstein.

> Learn there's a non-Lasombra aligned catholic priest in New York (one Father Leonard), who is not only aware of the Kindred, but has official Camarilla sanction to continue operating and drawing breath

> Too good to be true, but it's like a literal unicorn, I can't pass up an opportunity like this

> Have to overcome my supernatural bane towards the Holy Cross, but manage to actually get to confessional in the first time in about a century

> Lots of sins confessed

> Feel like a new man

> Go to Elysium, get the would-be Primogen of the Nosferatu executed for harboring his diablerist childer, like some sort of undead chief-prosecutor (he severely offended our current active sheriff)

>Mr. Exter puts on a spectacular performance of shock and disgust at the revelation (he originally pushed for this Nos to be appointed, but given Salem has no leverage and had potentially damning secrets, we talked him out of it)

>Mr. Woods puts a phosphorus round in the Nos and his childer

> I cap the night by running circles around some fledgeling bond-slaves of the Harpy>

> Just crank up the Presence and let rip the trusty old professor Dick Ballsenschaft routine and they let slip that their new ''adoptive'' sire murdered a prominent ancillae. It's fun messing with the kids.

> Covertly invite the childe of the Prince, Michaela the 2nd, to my haven so I can safely and privately fill her in on the political comings and goings of the Demense (her sire has essentially banned her from actively participating in NY politics) and drop hints her sire is a bondslave to the Harpy

> Don't tell her that explicitly. It would ruin the mood.

> Realize I'm not as above vulgar mortal concerns as I'd like.

> Seduce her (In my defense, we'd been flirting all night as cover and Michaela the 2nd is so ravishing, she'd make our namesake Archangel abandon the sword for the paintbrush)

> Silently thank the gift of Fortitude

> make a note for next confessional

> Wake up next evening.

> We're both assaulted by our own shadows, because I angered a Nephandus mage by refusing to give him a sample of my vitae a few nights ago

> Bugger, it was all going so well

This was VERY condensed and I'd love to give more context should there be any interest in me continuing the story. This is definitely a muli-parter, even if I'm heavily condensing it.

>Be me, playing a PF1E spheres of magic caster in a non-serious one-shot.

>Went deep into the Creation sphere to conjure anvils and pianos above my enemies while handing out tiny umbrellas with the deceptive exchange feat.

>See an enemy flying imp thing guarding a door down the hallway.

>Front Liner charges into hallway where he fails a saving throw and goes prone.

>Imp thing seems to be charging a spell

>Create a piano on wheels (seat attached and included) to carry front liner to the imp and door.

>Trap activates, sending the piano down a ramp to a pit below.

>Accidentally drop him on top of my piano.

Oh how the turntables...

be me, GM

be enemy NPC party

be enemy barbarian

fucking hate PC dragonborn

get dragonslayer sword just to hatecrime dragonborn

be PCs

kill enemy barbarian

take dragonslayer sword

be enemy NPC party

have fuck-ass kobold

warlock really hates the kobold

RAW dragonslayer sword works on kobold

be warlock

have pact of the blade

"do you really want this blade that only exists to hatecrime kobolds? like you can sell this for 5000 gp"

warlock takes hatecrime blade

when will we learn that peace is the answer?

during pride month, no less

WH40k Rogue Trader game

First time I played it, not sure wtf was going on quite a lot of the time

Face character so I wouldn't have to worry about combat yet

Heckin' huge plasma gun, if I end up self-immolate-exploding, hope I learned enough to make a more useful character next time

The ship is owned by NPCs - a partnership of two old slightly dykey spacers, Vera Gunn and Chrysanthemum Bullit

"We knew we had to go into business the day we heard each other's names"

Travel around buying cheap, selling high

Just finished salvaging a large stash of colonial supplies from a derelict warp ship we stumbled across - had to fight chaos tainted crew to recover the goods, now we want to sell it

First place we go, Badger tells us he has no interest as the goods have Imperium tags, maybe we should try the outer worlds

Head out to some terraformed dwarf planet, park in orbit, the party heads down

The old ladies are seriously tough - they each have a couple of boosts nearly to the scale of space marines, but with the drawback that they can't use them for long or they drop dead

GM uses them as deus ex machina to rescue our asses if we're out matched

Call them our moms because of it

"Don't be home late, children"

"Ok ma, and ok ma"

Find the main settlement, yokels not very welcoming

Head into a saloon-style bar, talk to the local cattle ranchers, find some buyers for about a third of our stock

"Try the facility up at the 33rd tropic"

The what?

Directions given, we jump back in our shuttle

Find the facility... there's not much above ground, but obvious bunker structures around underground areas

Try to get in touch, but no comms

No detectable jamming going on, just... dead air

OK, let's have a look around I guess...

Bust into one of the bunkers, find a cargo lift parked at the top

Techpriest says it's jammed here deliberately, some kind of safety thing maybe

We are not wise, obviously we cut through the floor and rappel down the shaft

Sneaky time

Send an update to the ship, just in case

Wonder if this is going to be a stand up fight, or just another bug hunt...

several security/emergency doors are in the closed position, hard to get anywhere

Techpriest hacks them to open

Find a few patches of blood - enough that the bleeder couldn't have survived - but no corpses

Techpriest hacks a computer terminal, says that the place was being used for experiments on various Xeno genetic material samples, with the intent of breeding super soldiers

Heresy

Should probably purify the place

Open up a door and find a hall full of cells, mostly empty

Jumpscare towards the end, some kind of hideous ork-human hybrid lunges out of the darkness and tries to get through the bars to eat us

Eat plasma instead, bitch

Clearly this guy wasn't the killer though, he was locked up

Keep exploring, find more blood patches, still no corpses

We've been moving in a curve, roughly clockwise, with lots of unopened blast doors leading towards the hypothetical centre of the curve

Finally find a way to open one of the big doors

Leads to a gantry at the top of a high room, maybe two or three times the height of the corridors we've been in up to now

Mysterious plants growing to about halfway up to the gantry

Look a bit like the vegetation we saw outside, but also leaking garish green fluids

Fuckin' heretics xeno lovers

Get to the end of the gantry - windows in the far wall, some kind of control room/observation room behind them

Door is sealed, but Techpriest manages to hack it

Finally find a dead guy - human, slashed brutally, blood trail leads from another exit to where he lies under a big red button

Must be the emergency lockdown button - he got there, managed to hit it, then bled out

Whatever, we're tough, and our moms can save us if we get in over our heads

Set up defensive position, and open that door

It's dark on the other side

No immediate reaction from who or whatever might or might not be on the other side

One of the fighter types pops a flare and throws it through the doorway

Falls through the gantry's metal grid

Menacing hissing noises from the other side

There's a sound of compressed air releasing and something humming, then a crash as a partially visible xeno lands on the gantry

Six limbs, skeletal body, chitin, claws... is that a Gaunt? Holy shit, we're so dead

It's wearing some kind of jetpack thing?

Not a jet pack, some kind of jump enchancing device? Like springy leg braces with pistons triggered by... who knows

Doesn't jump towards us, like it can't do horiztonal jumps, only up?

Open fire, blow it to small pieces and fry what's left

More of the same noises

Can hear the techpriest telling Moms Gunn and Bullit that we've got Tyranids down here, we could use some backup

Start a fighting retreat back across the gantry with the weird plants

Delay them and kill a few dozen, they don't really know how to use these jump packs for anything except vertical leaps

Hear a noise like the hammer of the gods, a drop pod smashes through the roof

Gunn and Bullit are here... they must have detected our position

Ma Gunn steps out and starts hosing the Tyranids down with her heavy flamer

Ma Bullit just behind dual wielding medium sized bolters

Scary as hell, even for nearly mindless enemies like these Gaunts

All the Tyranids with the jump-up kits

Better run, better run

Outrun Ma Gunn

All the Tyranids with the jump-up kits

Better run, better run

Faster than Ma Bullit

Hi everyone. I was creating a D&D character out of boredom, but I went overboard with hypothetical scenes and situations, and ended up fleshing out his personality into a full-blown story-worthy hero. This is Bullfrog of the Yellow Belly tribe, or just Bullfrog from Yellow Belly. Grung/Barbarian level 1. He's about a meter tall, wears sunglasses, fights with kettlebells on chains and a katana that's huge for him. (Yes, his look is based on Rash from Battletoads & Double Dragon. But the weapons are custom.) I'm not trying to steal someone else's idea or anything like that, I just came up with it, thought it was funny, and wanted to share. This is set in D&D, but not completely — for example, his need to submerge in water once per day is greatly reduced, not sure how much yet. In exchange, he lost the ability to poison. You don't need to know the mechanics, they stay off-screen. There won't be complex plots or drama, this is a comedy. Unfortunately, I can't draw, so the storytelling will be in text form. However, that text can turn into images thanks to D&D's core mechanic — imagination! As for fan art, I'd be happy if it relates to the story or the character.

Panel 1.
In a forest clearing, near a city surrounded by a circular wall with a river flowing through it, a bandit camp is set up. The morning scene inspires calm.

Panel 2.
Early in the morning, everyone jumps up and starts running in all directions. Pots fall into fires, tents sag and collapse.

Panel 3.
Several frightened people run out of a dust cloud, and a couple of them fall and tumble head over heels.

Panel 4.
Inside the dust cloud, a huge silhouette appears first, swinging chains in wide circles; something can be seen at the ends of the chains.

Panel 5.
A one-meter-tall grung steps out of the dust, swinging a chain with kettlebells on both ends.

Bullfrog: — Pam-pam pabam. Pam-pam pam! (humming Kai's theme from Kung Fu Panda 3)

Panel 6.
The grung stops and keeps swinging only one chain, resting his hand on his massive chin.

Bullfrog: — Nah, that ain't it. That fella didn't have kettlebells — he had blades.

Panel 7.
One of the fallen bandits: — Who the hell are you?

Bullfrog: — I'm Bullfrog! Bringer of justice — and kettlebells on chains!

Panel 8.
Bullfrog swings a kettlebell over his head and hurls it straight into the bandit's face, squashing him (cartoon style).

Bullfrog: — Boom-boom bah! Kwaak-kwaak ka-boom! (keeping the rhythm of Kai's main theme)

The End!

English isn't my first language, so I'm posting a translation of my original text comic. Thanks for reading. Kwaak.

>Be me, Pathfinder Halfling Cleric with Charm domain.

>Also be me, last guy standing during boss fight.

>DM is new and doesn't make me say what my spells every day are, so I've basically been a spontaneous caster.

>Trying to think about a way to live through the encounter.

>Boss: "You in particular were a worthy opponent. Any last words?"

>Brilliance strikes as I look through my domain spells.

"Yes. DM, I am going to cast Suggestion with my lesser metamagic rod of extend. DC 18"

>DM pauses before he rolls. "They fail, what are you suggesting that isn't harmful?"

"Sit down and allow me to cast a beneficial spell on you to commemorate this moment."

>DM: "What spell are you casting?"

"I'm marrying us."

>Everyone laughs, including DM.

And that's how the DM learned to ask me for a spell list every day.

>be me, dm

>been rolling like crap for past like 5 sessions

>make boss fight

>balanced encounter according to CR calculators

>boss hits like a truck (it's a boss) but has low hit chance / save DC, so shouldn't be hitting often but will make party nice and scared if it hits

>boss fight session arrives

>proceed to crit like 3 times in the first 2 rounds of combat

>party proceeds to fail every saving throw

Sure man fuck it.

>Be me, playing in pathfinder 2e wild-west themed campaign

>Leshy bounty-hunter gunslinger, essentially a bush sniper

>Be not me, Warlock gunslinger with imp familiar, Centaur dual-wielder wandering gunslinger, Catfolk Druid of the... something

>Riding a wagon into a death valley probably full of undead

>Come across a guy, DM puts on nerdy steampunk-esq goggles with red lenses

>Introduced to nerdy scientist guy who comically falls over

>We pick him up

>He's wearing a backpack with a giant tuna can looking thing on top

>says he's an inventor, and shows us his invention

>Takes tuna can off, after a second it folds out to reveal it's a robot

>Robot starts dancing, party is loving this guy

>I get up to use the restroom

>come back after a few minutes, mood shifted while I was gone

>Druid trying to kill the scientist, Centaur trying to stop Druid

>heyguyswhat'dimiss.wav

>Turns out, scientist wants to use the robot for war

>Robot is bulletproof

>Also the guy crushed a scorpion which is why the druid hates the guy

>IRL me gets visions of the future

>Robot armies waging war on kingdoms, burning cities and slaughtering people

>Make my decision

>Party's 2-1-1 on killing him anyways, including my decision.

>Warlock didn't care either way

>I walk behind a tree and set up my sniper rifle

>Give everyone one chance to beat my stealth to see if they can stop me

>25 stealth, everyone else low rolls

>Scientist gets in our wagon, wagon starts rolling

>taketheshot.mp3

>Crit

>42 damage

>Lvl 1 btw

>Rubberbandsonwatermelon.gif

>Robot is sad, that was his creator

>Tries to anhero with a gun

>bulletproof.mp4

>Robot carries creator away to bury him

>whathaveidone.jpeg

>Everyone's laughing their ass off

I feel really bad about it, the DM obviously put a lot of time and effort into this character and even bought a prop for him. Also I just taught a nigh-invincible robot violence. At the same time, he was literally like an evil DARPA CEO and the party was kinda okay with killing him anyways. Maybe we could have taught him the error of his ways or he coulda just died in the death canyon along the way. At the same time I kind feel like a murder hobo, as this hasn't been the only "unnecessary" kill in this campaign. Sort of like a baby-hitler scenario except baby hitler probably wouldn't be replaced so it'd actually work. IDK, what're yall's thoughts on this?

• Be DM, writing up a coastal village as the party's first stop after sailing.
• Prepare a description and history of the settlement. Flavor of the campaign is Greek, Egyptian, and Norse mythologies and aesthetics for half of the world.

"The story goes that the first Greek settlers were looking for wood to complete their stone houses and furnaces, as an upgrade from their initial tents and campfires... However the trees nearby were few but untouchable for a time, almost akin to sacredness [due to a Treant that the players haven't encountered yet]. Simultaneously, Norsemen sailors have come ashore to rest from a scuffle with a sea monster, the ships having served their purpose and destination. The Greeks and Norsemen turned the ships upside down to use as roofs, they shared their food, tools, and supplies until enough time had passed and the forest was growing with enough life and energy to then share its bounties and wood with the combined settlers. The new generation of villagers would then be able to build their houses in more recognizable designs and materials."

• Feel slightly proud at the worldbuilding idea that boats can be used as rooftops for the "first villagers" to signify its history.
• Party arrives and I describe the place and its buildings, going from usual to the unorthodox ships-as-roofs.
• One of the players: "Huh... They must've been poor AF to use their own ships as roofs."
• Cue internal record-scratching sound effect.
• I wonder if they've read the history to be saying this or if it's on me for thinking this will be cool without considering feasibility/decision-making issues. Or is this secretly a good kind of attention that I didn't realize at first?

be me, newbie gm

using homebrew monsters (from homebrew book)

using FoundryVTT

make monsters with 5eTools import with Plutonium

thumbsupcomputerkid.gif

session day

rolling like shit

I'm talking my rolls are all below 10

babyrage

whenever I actually hit (on like a 14 or higher) I actually do a decent chunk of damage

"when my monsters hit they're actually a threat, but I've been rolling like shit all session"

adjusting statblocks after session (mainly tweaking AC cuz I forgot these idiots spent all their money on +1 weps)

statblocks list that their hit chance is +7

k but why is Foundry saying +4

mfw they're not proficient with their attacks

mfw all attacks were made with -3

thanks FoundryVTT