#demons #storytime #food mention #I didn’t actually laugh aloud but it still amused me enough to reblog #I saw a bunch of people in the notes tagging this #Venom #and while I have not actually watched Venom I see their point
#overly literal interpretations #I didn’t actually laugh aloud but it still amused me enough to reblog #puns #our roads may be golden or broken or lost
So in Goblin Squad D&D yesterday, our Barbarian had just… the stupidest, DUMBEST, most terrifying, absolutely godlike thing happen to him.
This is a story of numbers, but it’s still beautiful.
We were fighting a dragon.
The dragon is hopping around while the Barbarian is just racing around trying to catch up to her
Dragon finally decides, no, really, fuck specifically THAT ranger and goes hog fucking wild on me (I LIVED!) but holds still long enough for the Barbarian to finally rage and LEAP ONTO HER BACK and go STAB
Dragon sees this and goes, “Oh. Sick.”
and just goes VERT
Pro: I am not tanking anymore
Con: She instantly moves FOUR HUNDRED FEET STRAIGHT UP INTO THE AIR…. with our raging Barbarian holding on for dear gottdamn life
One round later, she’s another 160 feet up, still getting stabbed by a Barbarian who has somehow held on, now getting attacked by ballistae and we’re all starting to get CONCERNED
Because if they take that dragon down, that is 560 feet our Barbarian is also falling out of the sky, and he is not attuned to the ONLY THING WE HAVE that can save his fucking life from that height
I’m sitting there doing math, trying to determine if 560′ is enough to kill him outright, silently being very grateful we still have exactly ONE diamond to rez his ass
and the dragon just goes VERT again, ANOTHER four hundred feet in the air
The Barbarian, now finally free from any potential collateral, cackles, as he is at long last, unshackled by the restraints of his conscience.
He has a tattoo, you see, which allows him to cast Fireball once per day
centered on himself
with a save which he autofails
But he is a tiefling.
And this fucker still has 160 hit points by the time it’s done exploding. But the explosion sends him backward as he fails the Athletics check to continue holding on and he begins to fall.
He falls for 3 fucking rounds and we can only watch our friend fall to his certain death.
The DM… has to roll ninety six d6s
let that number sink in for you
NINETY. SIX. D6s. They normally roll with real dice, you can hear the clickety clack through the discord, but they had to get out a fucking app for this because they do not OWN ninety. fucking. six. d6s.
It comes out to 402 fucking bludgeoning damage he takes on impact as he leaves a Barbarian shaped crater in the center of the forum, 10 feet wide, 5 feet deep, a cloud of dust and broken brick shooting out as he lands.
And do you know what happens next?
Do you know what the fuck we see as the dust settles?
We hear a cough, and a see a thumbs up come out of the crater. 1 hit point left.
402 damage. Raging as he landed, halved to 201. He had 160HP left, it only brought him down to -41, not enough to kill him outright (you have to get equal to negative your max HP), AND HE’S LEVEL 12, which means he has access to Relentless Rage: the first time you’d drop below 0 HP, if it doesn’t outright kill you, you have to roll a Con save of 10 or higher to instead drop to 1 HP. He rolled an 11.
He fell almost a THOUSAND feet from the air off the back of a fucking dragon, took NINETY SIX D6 FALL DAMAGE, AND LIVED.
His arena name lived up to the hubris of this fucking swan dive. All hail ALTANIN, THE UN-FUCKING-BREAKABLE
Tags:
#D&D #storytime #death tw? #I didn’t actually laugh aloud but it still amused me enough to reblog
The first couple trillion digits of the base ten expansion of pi are known. Presumably it should not be difficult to calculate at least the first trillion digits of the base 36 expansion which heuristically should contain hundreds of thousands of f-bombs. Checking this should be enough to secure the R-rating, without proving the full normality conjecture.
ok but anakin and obi-wan talking like danny and rusty from ocean’s eleven when they spend too much time together
listen, sometimes reaching a planet takes a lot of time and rex thought that cody was kidding when he told him to NOT let the two generals spend all their time together
and that’s how you get obi-wan and anakin finishing each other sentences but also not even speaking an understandable language to anyone else but them and saying shit like ‘ she has your…?’ ‘yeah’ ‘that means that she’s…’ ‘yeah’ ‘well you better…’ ‘yeah’
or ‘you wanna…’ ‘all yours’ ‘where should we…’ ‘start with the deck’
and they don’t even explain anything to rex? one time he asked them a question and they answered the exact same thing at the exact same time without even blinking, even clones don’t do that
cody only sighs when rex calls him desperately and says ‘they’re doing the weirder-than-usual ‘one mind in two bodies’ thing, aren’t they?’ and rex is almost shaking and screaming ‘THEY’RE FREAKING ME OUT CODY’
“One time my Nanny and the Gardener were having a heated argument in the car and he took her Queen tape out of the player and threw it out the window with rage and she looked him dead in the eyes and pulled out a second copy of that same tape and put it back in the player.”
I can totally envision Warlock’s version of the duck story!
One day when I was ten, the gardener comes into the house soaking wet and says, in that voice one usually reserves for toddlers or small animals, “Ah! One feels like a duck splashing around in all this wet! And when one feels like a duck, one is happy!” And then Nanny yelled, “Ooh, ducklings!” To which the gardener replied, “Too old to be a duckling. Quack, quack.” And then walked into the kitchen. I think about that every goddamn day.
“I love my family, or at the very least people would assume so. People would think that growing up as a politician’s son would be easy, and they are right. I got everything that I ever asked for, spending money the only way Rick People could spend money.
“Dad! I want a Pony” Boom, Pony is at my feet
“Dad! I wanted it black” Boom. Done. Pony now looks like it crawled out of the Black Lagoon.
“Dad! The Pony glared at me!” I get a bottle of glue the next day. I was living the Rickie Rich lifestyle. I can have anything I want.
But the best part of growing up rich, the absolute best part, was that we were able to afford our own nanny.
I love her so much but am goddamn terrified of her to this day. I am a 28 year old man and I live in my own bodyweight of fear towards her.
When I was 1 to when I was 11, we had a nanny in our house. Her name is Nanny. If you call her anything else you will die. Somedays I think that my parents made a Rumpelstiltskin Deal with her before I was born, where instead of taking baby me she just moved in to our house to raid our fridge and judge the world from lofty windows. This is just the first part of the mystery of my nanny.
She dresses like she is preparing to go to a funeral. And the difference between preparing to go and actually going is that they hadn’t found the body yet. You know when friends say that they would kill someone for you? Nanny would gut a cat if I wanted to play the violin that’s how hardcore she was. She wore red sunglasses because her glare alone could turn anyone to stone. If you squint hard enough you can actually see lasers coming out of her eyes.
Now you need to remember, I lived with this woman for Ten Years. Since I was a baby. This shit was normalized to me. While my parents were in West Wing I was living in the Addams Family. Nanny loved me and raised me and so what if she told me that I was going to lead Satan’s Army someday. That’s just Nanny. But throughout all of this, I never truly understand how terrifying she could be until I was 8 years old.
Picture this: a little 8 year old me, plump and trimmed with baby fat, standing next to Mary Poppin’s evil twin. One day we were going out for brunch so I can, and I’m quoting here “practice giving out orders when the army of hell arrives”
I’m still waiting for them, just to let you know.
So we get inside Nanny’s car, an old Black 1933 Bently which plays nothing but Queen music on cassettes.
I know this sounds fake, but she is a real person and not some Baba Yaga who decided not to eat me.
As we were about to leave, Brother Francis ran out to us. Francis was out gardener. He worked for us for as long as Nanny has, wears suspenders and a sun hat, and I’m pretty sure he ran away from a monastery. He walks up to Nanny and asks for a ride to the local gardening store for supplies. So he gets in the front seat, I’m in the back, and all three of us get on our way.
At 1000 miles per hour in a 55 zone.
Now I’m 8 years old. And no matter how cool your Nanny is, you just don’t pay attention to boring adult stuff like meetings, or finances, or traffic safety laws. So I’m lost in my own thoughts on how to direct my hell army to build myself a waterpark.
I don’t know how long I zoned out because when I snapped back in Nanny and Francis were arguing. Not in the pleasant passive aggressive way that makes you rethink your life choices, but full on yelling. So we are speeding down the road like death is chasing us. Bohemian Rhapsody is playing on blast. Nanny and Francis screaming at each other. Sulfur filled the air, radiant light pulsed menacing around us. Exactly how I imagined what parents fighting would be like. Things came to a head right as Freddy was about to hit his last “For Me!” because that was when this meek looking gardener snapped. Francis turns to Nanny and screams “YOU’RE DRIVING TOO FAST!” yanks the cassette out and pitches it out the window.
And then time stood still.
Have you ever been on a rollercoaster where at the top of the first hill staring down you regret every decision you’ve ever made that led you to this point? That was where we were all at.
Because there were three rules to Nanny’s Bently. Nanny always drives. Nanny always drives fast. And Nanny always drives fast with Freddy Mercury blaring down like her own personal angel.
This is all new uncharted territory for me. I’ve never seen anyone even dare disrespect her angel and plan to live to tell the tale. I was just watching in fascinated horror as this moment just searing into my mind.
Nanny’s looking directly at Francis, you can feel her eye’s heat laser’s charging up. I was trying to think of reasons to tell my parents why we don’t have a gardener anymore. Because even at 8 years old I know a death marker when I’ve seen one and by the end of the trip I was expecting Francis to be nothing but a smoldering piled of ash and a $15 hat.
She looks at him, and takes one hand off the wheel. Still barreling down the road like a madman mind you. But it alright because time’s frozen so we don’t hit anything. And with one hand, she reaches in front of him to the glove compartment, gently pulls out another cassette tape, and places it in the deck.
[pauses]
[sings] “FOR ME!!!!!”
We pull into the parking lot by the time Bohemian Rhapsody ends and I have never looked at Nanny the same way ever again. Because anyone who can play the exact same song on two different cassettes without missing a beat is their own god and needs to be feared.”
“to your battle stations, boys! it’s time to line up and see who’s tall enough for the roller coaster to hell!! some of us may not survive this, but the ones that do will get the ultimate reward…. paid.”
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