D&D 5E So long and thanks for all the fish!

[Dannyalcatraz]

After a montage of preparation, The Party- as they would be known henceforth throughout history in tale and song- began their "adventure honeymoon" with all deliberate haste. No sooner had they begun, than:

A group of men headed by. They were not tarrying or running. Nor were they singing. They didn't seem to be making apple pies. As far as The Party could tell, they were not talking about sports. They neither had sombreros nor stilts. These men were not acrobats. They had no expression as they didn't dally to the west.

(Edited without permission to facilitate verb tense agreement, etc.)

 

[rgoodbb]

After a montage of preparation, The Party- as they would be known henceforth throughout history in tale and song- began their "adventure honeymoon" with all deliberate haste. No sooner had they begun, than:

A group of men headed by. They were not tarrying or running. Nor were they singing. They didn't seem to be making apple pies. As far as The Party could tell, they were not talking about sports. They neither had sombreros nor stilts. These men were not acrobats. They had no expression as they didn't dally to the west.

These quiet unhatted eastern non-descript drifters, or QUEN-Drifters doubled back and began to follow the party from an observable distance.

Throg, being the most nature-minded, led the troop into higher ground. They tracked and trailed in another beautifully orchestrated flamboyant montage performed by the flamboyant Spiton, until they eventually camped up for the night, the Quen-Drifters also camped, keeping the same distance as before: exactly 171 ft. away.

“Once Fireballed, Twice Shy, I guess” Gildan remarked. He didn’t like being out here in the wilderness. Especially now they were getting higher and into cooler terrain. The Wizard thought back fondly at their Session Zero in the Painted Pumpkin and sighed at the thought of that huge fiery hearth

Sister Hermione and Bar De-Door RP'd their own whispered campfire conversation....

 

[innerdude]

Romani ite domum!
View attachment 83945

CONJUGATE THE VERB!!!!!!!

 

[Dannyalcatraz]

Sister Hermione and Bar De-Door RP'd their own whispered campfire conversation....

BDD: "Pull my finger."
SH: "What?"
BDD: "Pull my finger."
SH: "Why?"
BDD: "just do it- pull my finger."
SH: "OK."

*phhhhrrrrrAAAAAAAAPPP-P-P-P........P..... wheeeeeeeep*

SH: "EW!"

 

[innerdude]

One night, Chuck Norris' 20th-level Wizard PC cast a Wish spell and the spell went off in the real world.

Wizards in D&D don't have a spells per level table, they have a Chuck Norrises per level table.




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On an unrelated note, I actually had an NPC character named "Throg" in my Pathfinder campaign years ago. He was a bugbear ranger. He and his older brother "Grog" were the terrors of the Arthfell Forest.

Indeed, a mighty fear of Grog and Throg went throughout the land . . . .

 

[rgoodbb]

After retracting his now dry and flaky pseudopod, De-Door bubble-chuckled himself to sleep.

Throughout the night, both The Party and the Quen-Drifters abysmally failed all of their Perception Checks. And thus a convoluted set of scenarios (which must have been a nightmare/joy to DM) played out. Firstly, Spiton the Bard, garbed of course in his very best flamboyant smoking Jacket, went to relieve himself upon a snow-topped pine tree.

That’s when it happened…..

 

[BoldItalic]

The leader of the drifters, whose name was Edric son of Cedric, was an arable farmer by occupation and he had bushels. He was somewhat unnerved by the nearby adventurers who seemed to be, basically, a weird bunch of misfits and he thought it was uncanny the way that, however quickly or slowly he and his companions walked, the adventurers were always exactly thrice nineteen yards ahead. He turned to his friend Ernie and asked "What do we know that is exactly nineteen yards long?"

Ernie thought for a while and replied "Dunno. Let's ask the tiny wizard".

And so it was that Edric and Ernie came over and to ask Gildan that very question but they waited politely because he was obviously in the middle of casting a spell. There was a noiseless pop! and a tiny, rather gaudily-dressed female brownie-gnome appeared. "Hello, Dearie," she said to Gildan, "Looking for a good time?"

"What spell was that?" asked Edric, in case he ever wanted to know, which of course he didn't. Absolutely not. "Leomund's Tiny Slut" was the smug reply.

 

[rgoodbb]

Not knowing exactly the correct etiquette of how to reply in this specific scenario, Edric was left with "How do you cast that?"

"Well" replied Gildan who was secretly hoping he was asked. "First you gather all the Threads of magic. Even the abandoned Threads or the new Threads but most importantly the recently resurrected Threads. Even take The Best Of The Forum Threads. Sling them together and act as if you know what you are doing. Do a little Fixing and HomeBrewing and add a little Hitchhiker and there you have it. Capiche?

...."Urhm.....sure."

 

[Corwin]

I come back from the weekend to find this thread has taken a very strange turn, even considering its history.

I wish there was a "hard exit" option for threads. Maybe I should just type up a ragequit post here explaining how I'm never coming back...

 

[Dannyalcatraz]

[video=youtube;UPw-3e_pzqU]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UPw-3e_pzqU&sns=em[/video]