Hi, all. I know I said April was probably going to be kind of quiet, but seeing as though I’m not playing my regular Wednesday Dungeons & Dragons game tonight, I figured I’d blog about one last week's session instead. Because boy oh boy did things get wild.
So, I DMed my first dragon encounter last week as part of my ongoing campaign. It was, top to bottom, a blast. And while I was already well aware of it, this encounter has cemented the fact that my players are way too smart for their own good. I love them and hate them for it.
Allow me to elaborate.
A while back, my players, a party of characters known as The Bad Joke, ventured into the ruined and long-abandoned dragon city known as Kharaskor. The party’s adventures brought them here in search of demon cultists. These cultists were after dark secrets and knowledge that seemed to be held deep within the city’s ruins. The party ventured through the city and eventually found an ancient, subterranean tower, where old and honored dead dragons and dragonborn were buried. It was within this tower that The Bad Joke found their quarry, cornering the cult leader and defeating her and her cadre of demons in a heated battle.
It was after this battle, then, that my troubles began, as I inadvertently handed my players a fully loaded gun which they would inevitably turn back on me somewhere down the line.
You see, within this burial tower were the remains of a powerful and heinous red dragon named Krimefeng. Even in death, this dragon remained a greedy bastard. His tomb was filled nearly to the brim with a vast treasure trove. Except, because he was an especially spiteful prick, Krimefeng had all his treasures magically trapped so that if anyone tried to take anything, they would get burned. Basically, each piece of treasure would burst into flames when touched. The party discovered this, and I figured, at that point, they would leave it alone, seeing as though they couldn’t reasonably take anything without getting lit ablaze.
Boy, I sure was wrong about that.
Utilizing a spell that created a magical, floating disc, the party managed to make off with several hundred gold pieces from the dead dragon’s hoard. I didn’t really specify an amount of gold at the time because I was just so baffled that they figured out how to make off with some of the treasure. They stuffed their bag of colding (like a bottomless bag of holding, but colder) with a bunch of burning gold and sauntered out of the city ruins like kings.
Fast forward, then, about… I want to say at least half a year, to last week’s session. The Bad Joke have found the hideout of another demon cult (the overarching story involves a sort of demon cult gang war). This cult was led by a human warlock named Marko Skullraiser, who rode a young but fearsome white dragon named Vanafear. The two chosen acolytes of the demon lord Baphomet, along with a few of their underlings, faced The Bad Joke in an uproarious battle to the death. And it was at this point that my players decided to finally utilize their trapped treasure.
What unfolded was a stroke of pure genius. This came courtesy of the loxodon (think bipedal elephant) cleric, Khelgas, and mousefolk wizard, Pip (see why they’re called The Bad Joke?). Khelgas essentially punched open the party’s bag of colding, turning it inside out and letting loose the flaming loot into the air. Pip then rushed in and blasted the gold forward with a pulse wave spell, aiming the cavalcade of coins directly at Marko and Vanafear.
Simply put, they carpet bombed my dragon! And it worked! They didn’t kill either of the baddies with this, but it certainly caused problems for them. Needless to say, the fight tipped heavily in the party’s favor after that. The nerve of these clowns, am I right?
In all seriousness, though, this was absolutely awesome. I was nearly tempted to disallow this altogether for logistical reasons (the players had discussed doing something like this outside the game, but characters in-game had never directly said anything about it during or even before the fight, so it seemed a little dicey as to whether or not they could sensibly pull this off). Ultimately, though, by the “rule of cool,” I allowed it to go through. And it was most definitely worth it.
This turned into a campaign-defining moment, something that almost certainly clinched the fight for The Bad Joke, and I’m sure none of us will soon forget it.
And yeah, that’s pretty much it. Just felt like sharing. D&D stories are always fun to share. Because anyone who’s ever played D&D has definitely had something like this come up, so I know a lot of people reading this can probably relate. If you’ve got any good D&D stories to share, please feel free to hit me up. I’d love to compare notes.
Until next time: peace!