Quote of the Game

Lord Neverember, Open Lord of Waterdeep, self proclaimed protector of Neverwinter, and a sophisticated asshole who sits on top of a mountain gold, invites the player to his hall to speak of unrest emerging from a nearby Orc tribe. He amuses the players with a hospitality that is normally reserved for far more dignified guests such as Kings and Queens. The players are treated to rare and tasteful delicacies and fine spirits of foreign lands, tobacco of the richest flavors, and the entertainment of musicians that lingered in the heart and lifted the spirits days on after they were heard.

As the time passed and all players were comfortable, seeing that his company was pleased, Lord Neverwinter began to speak, “Friends of Neverwinter, I am pleased that you are enjoying my humble hospitality, yet I must confess I brought you here for a purpose. Events have recently transpired that disrupt the delicate balance of Neverwinter and with that the protection of this city that I am…”

Enter the level 1 Bard.

“What are you protecting!? This city is falling apart and you don’t do anything but sit in comfort while the city suffers. Who do you think you are you vagrant!?”


The guard stands at attention at the Winged Wyvern Bridge. In his time employed by Lord Nevermber the guard has attempted follow through with his duty enamored with the vision Lord Neverember holds of attempting to return the city back to its former glory.

The players approach the bridge.

“Halt,” the guard raises forth his hand, “none are allowed to cross this bridge without paying the toll.” The party contemplates paying the toll and after a while one of the players questions the toll.

“Although, “ begins the guard, “ perhaps unreasonable the toll goes to help the…”

RE: Enter the level 1 Bard.

“You’re retarded or rather incompetent if you think I shall pay the toll! Why should I be tarried to pay a toll to the horrible likes of you? You are daft if you believe I shall pay, daft I say!”

The Bard finds himself standing on the opposite side of a great door that leads into the Chasm. A section of the city, blockaded from the rest, plagued by monstrous creatures known to be spell-scarred who derive pleasure in killing anything and everything. As the Bard looks on group of these foul creatures hurl them-selves towards him.

DM: “What do you plan on doing? The beasts are coming straight for you.”

Bard: “Are the guards readying themselves?”

Note: The wall stands around him for a great distance to his left and his right, just a moment ago he had been on the other side and the guards (particularly the Guard from the previous story) backhanded him and had his companions toss him onto the opposite side of the wall (the side he is currently in) and closed the massive wooden doors behind him.

DM: “Um, no you don’t suspect the guards are readying themselves. So, what do you do?”

Bard: “I will wait till they are out twenty-five feet from me.”

DM: “Okay.”

Bard: “Do the guards notice the beasts?”

DM: “You hear a call to arms issue forth from above you, but quickly the call is muffled.”

Bard: “Are the beasts near the twenty-five foot mark?”


RE:RE: Enter the level 1 Bard.

Bard:”Okay! I cast light on top of the monsters so the guards can see them and launch a volley!”


Bard: “Are the guard shooting?”

DM: “No… and the creatures are quickly approaching. You notice you don’t have much time left before they are on top of you what do you do?

Bard:”I wait till the guards fire off a volley.”

DM:”The monsters attack…”

Initiative roll, the monsters go first. The Bard gets (in a term a close friend of mine uses all the time) BODIED. In the end the Bard saw his limbs rip apart from his body before he succumbed to death.

Bard:”Wait,why didn’t the guards fire off a volley?”

DM: “So… who wants to play Chutes and Ladders?”

I had two PCs exploring an underground ruin where an elemental wyrd had taken up living. She sent forth an earth elemental to see if the PCs were worthy of receiving her visions. This is the party's response:

Avenging Druid/Fighter: I expose my genitals.
Dracha Sorc: Aren't you wearing full plate?
AD/Fighter: I take off my armor then.
DM: In front of the elemental?
AD/F: Yes.

They were deemed unworthy, but they managed to find her temple anyway. She begrudgingly extolled their fates.
First Instance:
Monster Summon level 3, summons 3 puppies. Go find the traps

Second Instance:
Dm. Room is pretty empty except some mildew growing in the corners. 
Thief / Half Orc "Is it edible?"
Pointer-left Yay_thumb
The party is preparing to question the surviving bandits to find their hideout:
DM: "so it's an intimidate check with others assisting..."
we figure out who's helping who...
DM: "so this is good-cop / bad-cop?"
Player1: "it's more like bad-cop / worse-cop."
Player2: "no, it's more like bad-cop / worse-cop / insane guy..."
The characters we're celebrating Shining Ever (which is pretty much halfling christmas) with an NPC. The party is a dracha, a necropolitan, and a tiefling.

Halfling: So I got you all presents. You brought presents for each other right?
Undead: *takes out a scroll and ink* I grant you one minor boon each.
Halfling: This is what I get for inviting the dead guy to my party.
Pointer-left Clansnowraven_thumb
I had given one of my brainier players an actual cipher puzzle that I made with a cool rune font I found on the internet to represent the monolithic inscriptions they were finding in this ruin. I had tried to make the cipher easy, but gave it a few twists such as the letter C and the letter B using the same runic character. He took the puzzle home and the next week proudly came back with completed translation. Things were going great until we got to the last inscription he had translated.

"Welcome to the house of Hasepher the Cold!" He proudly spouted off.

I couldn't breath for almost two minutes.
We were putting on a performance in town to try and get an audience with the emperor. After many buffs and assist checks our bard made the roll.

Bard: I got a forty two.
Me: I think thirty is when outsiders take note?
DM: The blood war shows up and turns into a mosh pit.
"We're not dead yet" party motto
A 1/2 Orc character was competing with a Goliath monk as to who was better. They then wagered who would have the most kills. Later that game the 1/2 Orc was severely injured and despite his assurances to return to the game, he flaked. So, his injuries were a little worse off and he died.

Alma Maiden: "Sorry for your lose. You have my condolences."
Narrator: "the innkeeper leads the party to an undertaker and after a brief service the party returns to the inn"
Gath Broulin: Gath says some words at the burial, "Each stone that builds a wall must be laid upon that which came before. Each step we take is preceeded by the journey that brought us to where we are. The lives around us continue, even though one of us falls, because it must; because eventually, we all must fall. Remember, each of us, the life is this man and the impact that it had. We are all links in a chain that stretches behind us and before us."
Gath Broulin: "In Wee Jas' name, amen."
Alma Maiden: Alma sheds one singular tear for Gath's words.
Jotan: "Thanks for those kind words. I was looking forward to beating him in killing more goblinoids, but now that just feels wrong."
Jotan: "But I'll say it anyway. I win, you lose. Rest in peace."
We have had a full night of crashing palace parties and fighting off guards and searching for treasure. After we got what we came for our swordmage with the mind of a ten-year-old hears a whisper in his head telling him to go to the darkest corner of the dungeon and open the prison cell.

Swordmage- "I go open it."

We grind to a halt as we begin talking out of game.

Liz- "Wait are you going to roll insight or anything?"
Swordmage- "no"
Liz- "are you at least going to tell anyone?"
Swordmage- "no"
Liz- confused look and melodramatic sigh... "ok"

Back to the game

Swordmage: "I open the door"
DM: "congratulations, it's an ilithid!"