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2/2/06

Today, I played D&D and had a really great time, and only because of two words: Table fighting. My friend Ulrich had accidentally tried to kill the high counselor of a town. Convinced he was going to be caught and killed, and because he's an insane pyrokineticist, he proceeded to burn the high counselor's house down with an everburning torch. When riders entered the house in hopes or rescuing the counselor Ulrich had "mind spiked" them-put intense pressure on their minds and had their brains get expelled from all orifices. The one he couldn't kill however proceeded to pursue Ulrich until he had hid under a table in the counselor's study. Ulrich then tried to fight off the rider whilst under the table. The rider got some real good rolls and there was a lot of swearing implanted by me, the Dungeon Master, but the rider had been knocked unconscious before it could hit Ulrich once(Ulrich hit him once real good in the nose). We had this all start because we were organizing a hostage trade and our rouge had let it slip that we had kidnapped the hostage instead of just "finding him". It all ended well, however, when the rouge in question, Cyric, had polymorphed himself into the hostage and informed everybody untruthfully that Ulrich really saved him and everything was one big misunderstanding. The people believed him, and the riders that didn't see Ulrich kill their buddies, rushed in to save Ulrich under the pretense that he was a hero returning a hostage to its rightful stomping grounds. What was supposed to be a routine kidnapping turned us into heroes. We were doing an evil quest, and it just feels so right when evil prevails. twisted