There was once a tiefling hog-tied in a stable. You know the sort. Untrustworthy. Chaotic. Arsonistic tendencies. He was all these things, but Amnon was also the unintentional clown.
Last Amnon knew, he had been pinned down by an owlbear. He feared he'd died when he couldn't move, but the sounds and smells of horses clued him in.
"They went and left me!"
He turned himself on his side. He was at the hind legs of the horse that had carried him to the city, and was now face-to-face with a ripe pile. He wriggled.
"Did they take my dagger?" He wriggled again. No dice.
He rolled his eyes, stopping them on the horse's legs. What possessed Amnon, none know, but he turned himself toward the horse and its pile. Gently, oh so steadily he did turn as his face crept closer to the stinking mess. His nose wrinkled. His eyes watered. His lungs burned. But he made it. Then he met something solid.
"Ah, yes. The horse."
The horse greeted him with a swift kick to the head, sending Amnon's world spinning. There was a crack as his head met the back wall and a third noise, which couldn't be placed. The smell, however, was unmistakable.
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A professional engineer and amateur writer who has played D&D since 2015 (started with 5e) and has been a DM more than a player. When I'm not playing god I'm usually your friendly neighborhood rogue.
My bardlock was performing in a tavern, when the party started to get some 'fancy' drinks. After everyone else went, I said 'my bard wants in.' So he stood on the stool and asked the crowd what to order. My first roll was for water, so the crowd yelled water and told them to f*ck off. The next roll they all yelled "Get him the Zuzu!" (which was a drink that was ment to nerf your character into the ground). Well, cause our paladin became the next incarnation of bahamut, her aura let me succeed the roll...the DMs face was full omg as my bard's strength, constitution, and intelligence all jumped +10. So 28/31/28, was the new stats, and my bard is as strong as our bahamut paladin now.
But now he wants to kill all humans cause of what our rogue did during a fight, so yeah. We have a game of clue next session cause my bard killed 2 party members (they stopped playing, so perfect victims), and he framed it so it looked like a rogue did it.
The name's Seamus William Kane, the third. My hobbies include traveling from place to place; picking up music, picking up women, picking fights, picking pockets. I come where I please and I go where I please and yes, those were both double entendres. Ever since meeting Lucille, though, I've been a changed man. Hair the color of raven's wings at midnight, with eyes like two rolling green hills in the midst of summer. An elf, she was, and the most beautiful and bold woman I've ever laid eyes on.
But Lucille's gone now. Her ship's been missing for months, and my wandering has been getting more and more desperate. And now I'm here. Only desperate people come to this little tavern on the edge of the world, so I ask you these two questions, friend:
Why are you here?
And have you seen an elf woman, with raven-black hair?
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I know what you're thinking: "In that flurry of blows, did he use all his ki points, or save one?" Well, are ya feeling lucky, punk?
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Tell your great stories, especially bardly stories, though it's the bard's job to tell the tales of the rest of the party (with embellishment) too.
Bonus points for poetic form.
Klogg, wearer of wooden shoes, was a half-orc
Killing and dancing, a bard
One night at the tavern he saw her
And her and her from afar
Donning an infinite flagon as helm for a show
Drowning, he showed them a feat
From his bag, he pulled out an antelope
Which would be inconvenient for juggling
He passed it off to the sweetest firbolg
The lady (or one of them) who'd captured his eye
Then out pulled a weasel and badger
And tossed straight up and on high
As he climbed on the beasts back and juggled
On beast and in arms of his lass
A pal sent torch and flagon to tumble
Along with the beasts as they pass
With moments of flurry and swooning
And nary a catch gone amiss
Klogg tilted his cap, drunk in his bout of lampooning
He ended the show with a kiss
The story does follow with much
Though Klogg were too drunk to extend
He woke up disrobed in the clutch
Of a she-bolg, two others, and his friend
There was once a tiefling hog-tied in a stable. You know the sort. Untrustworthy. Chaotic. Arsonistic tendencies. He was all these things, but Amnon was also the unintentional clown.
Last Amnon knew, he had been pinned down by an owlbear. He feared he'd died when he couldn't move, but the sounds and smells of horses clued him in.
"They went and left me!"
He turned himself on his side. He was at the hind legs of the horse that had carried him to the city, and was now face-to-face with a ripe pile. He wriggled.
"Did they take my dagger?" He wriggled again. No dice.
He rolled his eyes, stopping them on the horse's legs. What possessed Amnon, none know, but he turned himself toward the horse and its pile. Gently, oh so steadily he did turn as his face crept closer to the stinking mess. His nose wrinkled. His eyes watered. His lungs burned. But he made it. Then he met something solid.
"Ah, yes. The horse."
The horse greeted him with a swift kick to the head, sending Amnon's world spinning. There was a crack as his head met the back wall and a third noise, which couldn't be placed. The smell, however, was unmistakable.
A professional engineer and amateur writer who has played D&D since 2015 (started with 5e) and has been a DM more than a player. When I'm not playing god I'm usually your friendly neighborhood rogue.
My bardlock was performing in a tavern, when the party started to get some 'fancy' drinks. After everyone else went, I said 'my bard wants in.' So he stood on the stool and asked the crowd what to order. My first roll was for water, so the crowd yelled water and told them to f*ck off. The next roll they all yelled "Get him the Zuzu!" (which was a drink that was ment to nerf your character into the ground). Well, cause our paladin became the next incarnation of bahamut, her aura let me succeed the roll...the DMs face was full omg as my bard's strength, constitution, and intelligence all jumped +10. So 28/31/28, was the new stats, and my bard is as strong as our bahamut paladin now.
But now he wants to kill all humans cause of what our rogue did during a fight, so yeah.
We have a game of clue next session cause my bard killed 2 party members (they stopped playing, so perfect victims), and he framed it so it looked like a rogue did it.
The name's Seamus William Kane, the third. My hobbies include traveling from place to place; picking up music, picking up women, picking fights, picking pockets. I come where I please and I go where I please and yes, those were both double entendres. Ever since meeting Lucille, though, I've been a changed man. Hair the color of raven's wings at midnight, with eyes like two rolling green hills in the midst of summer. An elf, she was, and the most beautiful and bold woman I've ever laid eyes on.
But Lucille's gone now. Her ship's been missing for months, and my wandering has been getting more and more desperate. And now I'm here. Only desperate people come to this little tavern on the edge of the world, so I ask you these two questions, friend:
Why are you here?
And have you seen an elf woman, with raven-black hair?
I know what you're thinking: "In that flurry of blows, did he use all his ki points, or save one?" Well, are ya feeling lucky, punk?