…the internet knows what I want.
My brother sent me the most blessed video of all time
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Big difference between the two
JARVIS: sir, I know you are probably very angry right now but I feel that picking a fight with Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes is not the way to handle this situation.
FRIDAY: You can’t beat him in hand to hand combat, let me analyze his fighting style for you.
karen: activating instant kill mode
I just accidentally invented a new idiom, maybe?
“Licking a tree & hoping for maple syrup.”
aka “A attempt at resolving/achieving something with less effort than is required for success, & a high probability of it proving merely futile & faintly unpleasant’
I can support this as a turn of phrase.
I think you’ve really tapped into something here.
Absent-minded Warlock vs. Arrogant Beholder, Round 1
So right before spring break, three of my friends and I were playing a one-shot campaign. I was playing an older character of mine named Jack, who is an absent-minded warlock with a +1 Rod of the Pact Keeper. We were lost in the woods and had just gotten ambushed by a beholder who wanted our magic items, the fighter had yet to say anything, and the bard was flipping his shit. So:
Me: -still trying to do this diplomatically- “‘Okay, what do you want?’”
DM: “'Just your magic trinkets.’”
Me: “'So…do you want the relic sword?’”
DM: “'Yes.’”
Me: “'What about my rod?’”
(beat)
Entire table: -cracks straight the hell up-
Me: -OOC and realizing what I’d just made my character say- “I meant my Pact Keeper Rod!”
Bard Friend: “'Go for it Jack! Seduce him! Maybe you can convince him not to kill us!’”
Entire table: -laugh until they’re red in the face-
DM: -once he can breathe again- “The big eye blinks at you and you hear him say ‘Your…your what?’”
Me: “I slowly bring up my magic rod, looking incredibly confused. 'My…Rod of the Pact Keeper?’”
I was paralyzed immediately after that, but the beholder actually considered keeping my character alive for the entertainment value, and according to the DM, if the beholder had actually responded, the response would’ve been “Oh Daddy, yes.”
Some context: I’m working with another player (a half-elf sorcerer) to try to haggle down the price on a Deck of Many Things we found in a shop. The shopkeeper refuses to sell it for any lower than 60 platinum, the price he bought it for.
Half- Elf (OOC): Can I convince him that he was ripped off and the deck has no value?
DM: I mean, you can try.
Sorcerer: (Rolls a 4)
DM: The Shopkeeper doesn’t believe you, claiming that the wizard that sold it to him was a longtime friend of his.
Me (OOC): Ok ok, then I’m going to ask to see the deck before I buy it.
DM: Roll for persuasion
Me: (Rolls an 8)
DM: Nope. Sorry, he doesn’t really trust you.
Me (with a smile slowly creeping across my face): Then can you at least show me a card? I need to know that you’re not ripping me off.
The DM immediately realizes what I’m doing, and attempts to set the persuasion saving throw incredibly high.
Me: (rolls a 19)
Shopkeeper: Sure, I guess. I don’t see anything wrong with that.
The DM sighs as he picks a random card out of the Deck of Many Things. And, lo and behold, it the card Ruin. (Which makes all non-magical items you have disintegrate.)
Needless to say, the shopkeeper lost everything he owned except the Deck. This included his house.
Me (OOC): I’m just gonna bend down and pick up the deck. Does he do anything to stop me?
DM: Well… no. No, I guess not. He just stares at you, and whispers “why”
Sorcerer: You should’ve given it to us when you had the chance.
So not only did we get a free Deck of Many Things at Level Two, we also ruined a man’s life. Overall, I’d say it was a good day.
help a nonbinary lesbian and my family out
I’m Erin and my family needs at least $10 to eat this week. I’m still trying for disability but if you’ve ever applied for disability, you know how hard and long it can be. If you want to donate, be it 1 cent, it would be greatly appreciated. I will repay anyone who donates in any way I can. We are in bad debt, which is where most of our money goes to. Reblogs are as helpful as donations and nobody has to donate if they don’t want to or can’t, times are hard,no one should feel guilty for not donating. If you don’t want to donate or are in debt yourself, it’s fine. I love y’all. Please don’t send me hate, I will block you.
Manners
Context: My significant other is introducing a new, neutral evil, character to a West Marches game I help DM. The following is done over text chat. The setting is a tavern in the middle of a town, far from other civilization: East Piceno.
Valence (My S/O’s tiefling rogue): The doors to the tavern slam open, and a rather odd looking tiefling appears. “Hello, the tavern!” He promptly sits down at a table, and puts his feet up on an adjacent chair.
Me, as the barkeep: As soon as your feet hit the chair’s surface, a walnut flies from across the room and pegs you in the forehead. “Feet on the floor, or your ass is out the door,” the barkeep says with a scowl.
Valence: “Aw, this is one of those boring bars.” He considers, briefly, whether he’s willing to get into a fight with the barkeep, but decides against it, swinging his feet to the floor. His claws click intentionally. “That’s what I get for coming to a town in the middle of nowhere.”
Me: The barkeep rolls his eyes, but decides not to comment. “Food? Drink? A room? What do you need, kid?”
Valence: He puffs up indignantly. “I’m no child. I’m here looking for a group of adventurers, but all I see are some miscellaneous common townsfolk and someone who needs his eyes checked before they-” He cuts himself off, seeming to think better of his comment, and crosses his arms. His tail lashes, twin ends whipping in sync. “I’m flat-out broke and need a way to make money. I’m fucking starving.”
Me: The keep sighs, making a muttered comment about adventurers. “You’re in the right place. Pull up a chair, first drink’s on the house.”
Valence takes his seat, and the barkeep gives him an ale before vanishing to the back room. Several minutes pass, and the barkeep returns. A few minutes later, a man most of the players know, but my S/O has never met enters the room.
Me, as the man in question: The tavern doors open, and a young, but white haired and bespectacled human enters the room. A quick glance is cast about the room, and he moves to sit across from the tiefling. “Hello there.”
Valence: The tiefling raises an eyebrow, sitting up a bit more. How…unusual this man looks. “Hello.” He sits relaxed, not quite lounging but definitely not tense.
Me: A charming smile crosses the man’s face and he extends a hand. “Klossowski. I hear you’re looking for the guild in town, yes? Well, you’ve found them.”
Valence: The tiefling looks at his hand, almost suspiciously, but only for a brief moment before relaxing and taking it. “You’d be correct. I’m Valence. Looking for, ah, work. Preferably something exciting that doesn’t involve dying horribly.”
Me: “Excellent. Welcome aboard.” He withdraws the hand, and reaches into a pocket for a moment… Retrieving a small, three inch iron sphere. He mutters the word ‘manners’ and the ball streaks out across the table.
[I roll, and the sphere hits Valence’s AC]
Me: Valence is restrained by the Iron Bands of Binding. You can make a strength check or an escape artist check to attempt to escape. “Let’s get one thing clear. I have eyes all over this town. You’ll keep that attitude in check, and you’ll not threaten my people again. Understood?”
Valence: Valence snarls and fights at the restraints. “I won’t tolerate being insulted! And I didn’t threaten him, I just- threatened to threaten him. I didn’t say anything.”
Me: “Riiiight.” The Mayor rolls his eyes. “Look, the guild needs all the help it can get. What we don’t need is someone who’s going to cause more trouble for this town than they’ll help. You do your part, you help the guild with their operations, you’re a free man. Cause trouble—threaten people, hurt people, destroy property, the usual—I make your life a living nightmare. Are we clear?”
Valence: Valence hisses through his teeth but stops fighting. He’s pissed, obviously so, but knows when he’s beaten. “We’re clear.” He wiggles a bit, unhappily. “Who are you? What is this? I can get out of anything-!”
Me: “I, my good sir, am Mayor Klossowski Piceno.” He snaps his fingers, and the bands shrink back down into the 3 inch ball from before, flying back to his hand. Valence is no longer restrained. “Good day sir.” And with that, he turns and walks towards the door. As he approaches the door, he stops, and turns to the barkeep. “Get the tiefling some food. He looks half starved.
And that was the day my players learned “Don’t fuck with the Mayor” was rule number 1.
yourplayersaidwhat