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Author Topic: The Leeroy Corner: Simple Plans and Other Stories  (Read 754 times)

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Offline blingdenston

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The Leeroy Corner: Simple Plans and Other Stories
« on: 03/14/18, 07:06:30 PM »
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Inspired by @recoveringgeek 's Shoutbox find on the subject of the plan to rescue Han Solo in 'Return of the Jedi', I thought I'd start a thread on plans and debacles that YOU'VE experienced/taken part in/never spoken of again in your stories and games! I'll open up with a little story I'm calling...

Unmaking a Murderer

Dramatis Personae

The Slipshod Knights
Rhynn (played by J.) - CE elf fighter, possessed by the Darkbringer
Tarlin (played by I.) - CN (E) anatomist/priest of Loviatar, goddess of pain
Felmadi Aman (played by B.) - CN horse trader/horseback raider, barbarian/ranger/philosopher
Geall Barnevuolo (played by me!) - N minstrel, chronicler of the adventure, hardly important

Rhynn had gotten possessed by remnants of the fallen god Moander after getting drunk and partying with a bunch of demons in an offal pit somewhere west of the Moonsea. This, coupled with his generally obnoxious and violent attitude, had lead to him waking up every week or so with no memory of what had occurred the night previously, while the locals whispered fearfully about a terrible beast who was claiming the lives of the innocent in the twilight hours.

Because of our peripatetic habits, we didn't notice the trail of carnage we had left in our wake until, one day, Rhynn entered the lodge where we were staying carrying a large bundle of bloody sheets and, in the middle of breakfast, hurled them into the roaring hearthfire and tried to head upstairs.

When the innkeep demanded to know what in the Nine Hells he was doing hurling giant masses of roughspun and linen into the fire while people were trying to eat, Rhynn (and his player, J.) was at a loss. He had spent the entire morning in the victim's house repeatedly rolling Search checks hoping to find secret doors and hollows. Despite the DM's assurance that it was a completely normal house, J. was convinced that there HAD to be a secret lair, or a hidden basement, or a false wall or something where he could hide the evidence. When that proved impossible, he decided upon the next best course of action: burn the evidence. And where better to hide the evidence of his crimes than the lodge where his entire party was staying, in the middle of the breakfast rush, with a dozen witnesses around?

After assuring the publican that our elf friend was suffering from an untreated truncheon blow to the head, we braced Rhynn in his room and finally got him to admit to his blackouts. When we demanded he accompany us to a local magician to get treatment, he grew agitated...he didn't actually MIND being a sleepkiller, just that he was so bad at hiding the evidence of his unconscious crimes.

The rest of we Knights put our heads together to ponder the problem. We had noticed signs of Rhynn's mysterious fugues, of course...plus numerous omens of the sinister Darkbringer, which had been plaguing our travels for months. We checked in with the local cult of Loviatar, Tarlin's patron goddess and the S&M mistress of pain and servitude. The high priestess was able to identify the source of the curse (the aforementioned demon-party) and the possession by a profane spiritual remnant of the god of rot and corruption, Moander. She affirmed that she would be able to perform a ritual that would cure Rhynn of his curse: a physical and spiritual scourging that would beat the taint out of him (no incense and baptisms for them)! All we had to do was get the burly elf into their hands, without his armaments and preferably tied up.

But, how do you help someone who won't help themselves? Especially when they're violent maniacs who continuously threaten their party members (like poor Geall, who he continuously called 'thief' and accused of rifling through his things, despite the fact that Sr. Barnevuolo was quite obviously a minstrel and scholar who just happened to know a thing or two about picking locks and slitting throats)? ESPECIALLY when they're violent maniacs who threaten their fellow party members and are immune to sleep spells and poisons?

Tarlin had more experience with Rhynn (and I. had more experience dealing with J.) than the rest of us, and knew just what to do. He dispatched Felmadi into the wilderness to find a rare type of poisonous toad, while he had Barnevuolo shadow the burly elf (to make sure he didn't get into any more trouble than we were already in), while he personally brewed a series of potions and poisons designed to break down the elf's resistance to sleeping draughts and put him out. Then, he got out his eeriest robe and wrote a threatening scroll full of instructions and had Barnevuolo take him to where Rhynn was prowling.

Standing atop a roof, the robed wizard used the message cantrip to eerily demand that Rhynn pay him heed, then used true strike to throw the scroll to him, making the parchment flutter down and land perfectly in his hand. Impressed by the display of weird prodigies, Rhynn read the scroll and, for reasons I cannot begin to explain to you, just did as it demanded. First, he journeyed into the town's alleyways, seeking a beggar (just some poor anonymous, uninvolved soul). Once he found one, he braced the man and made his demands: "You will take me into the wilderness, and we will find a toad, and then I WILL pay you!"

Terrified, the beggar did as he was bade and, miraculously, after much searching and endless threats from the elf, found the toad (just where Felmadi had planted it). The toad's poisonous flesh was the final component of the special sleep poison Tarlin had brewed (and infused into the squirmy little beast), but the subject had to willingly and knowingly imbibe it in order for it to be effective. The elf grabbed the fat toad and wrenched it in twain with his bare hands, then told his shivering companion: "You will eat half of this frog, and you will STOMACH IT!" Together, the two ate their poisoned meal, the poor beggar having difficulty choking down the warty meat ("STOMACH IT!" Rhynn roared at him, chunks of toadmeat flying from his lips). With that done, the elf paid the beggar the princely sum of 5 platinum tricrowns, and bade him depart (whether the beggar survived the poisoning, or made it back to town, we never learned).

And so, we were able to find the brutal murderer, napping in the woods. We bundled him into a cart, tied him up, and delivered him to the cultists, where he spent a long night being beaten and mortified while chants to the Willing Whip echoed in his ears. By morning, we were able to bundle the raw-skinned, but cured, elf into our cart and leave town before the local constables could question us in the murders.

Then, two days later, I had to kill Rhynn when he tried to cut my throat in the middle of the night with a hatchet (?) for messing with his pet cat. (The cat had tried to eat Sr. Barnevuolo while I was turned into a canary, but that's another story).


And that's one story of bizarre plans, nonsensical choices, and comical outcomes! What's happened to YOU? What're YOUR favorite misdeeds, heists, plots and peccadilloes?
Pehn Qardaak - Captain of the Rodomontade
Ran-del Qardaak - Big Time Space Hero
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Online recoveringgeek

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Re: The Leeroy Corner: Simple Plans and Other Stories
« Reply #1 on: 03/14/18, 08:19:51 PM »
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Damn you @blingdenston, you're going to make me do this, aren't you.

Well, first I'll pay it forward and tag in my fellow 80's kid @Seraphie. Though the story itself probably takes place circa 1995? While many of you were graduating, I was already trying - and failing - at my first round of Adulting.

I also wrote this in the vein of another 90's fad that died a horrible, mangled death. Blogging. The System of note is Dungeon and Dragons 1st Edition. Though somewhere along the way, someone bastardized it into D&D 1.0.

I've left in all the stupid formatting and exaggerated pauses, because let's face it, why mess with a classic?

I've also spared you all the horror of scrolling and scrolling, and placed it behind some Spoiler tags so I don't engulf the entire first page of this thread.

Spoiler: Worst RPG Ever • show

The following was my Worst Game Ever. It is amusing to me how many of these stories start out the same. I had been dating my then girlfriend for a while, and lamented the lack of role-playing I had done since moving. Now she was no stranger to this eccentric activity, her previous boyfriend had role-played, and always tried to encourage her to join. She made mention of a friend of hers from high school who role-played regularly, and was looking for players. Now it was I encouraging her to "give it a try" and trust that "it really can be fun" and other foolish comments.

So she relented, and we went. As it turned out, our arrival was timed with a special event. Their role-playing group had swelled beyond normal proportions, due to the arrival of the Guest Dungeon Master. A friend of someone in the ten or so odd people scattered around the cluttered and stained living room rug. This generous individual had agreed to run The Adventure, and we all had arrived with character sheets in hand.

I wish for the life of me I could remember what my girlfriend had made for her character, but like so many bad experiences, the little details fade with time. My character was amusing, if contrived, but it was one of those moments where as a player you make a conscious decision to Be Different. I played a Half-Orc Assassin with Great Strength who specialized in the two-handed sword. He was of good alignment, and protected the back alleys and shopkeepers of his adopted home in a psuedo-vigilante theme. I mention this because it will be of note later.

As everyone settled into their assumed positions, the guest Dungeon Master uttered these inspired words. "You are all sitting in a bar." I am pretty sure I felt my stomach harden and heard Those Little Voices You Should Listen To in times of need, but I needed to put on a brave face for my girlfriend, so I smiled at her and tried to pay attention to the explanation of the job we were hired for, all the while watching as The Leaders emerged among our intrepid band.

There was a journey, some minute role-playing, and plenty of whispering as I explained to my girlfriend what the Random Encounter was, and what the hell all these different dice do. Finally came the Big Moment; a group of assorted adventurers who have defied traps and curses to enter The Temple. One final trap remained, one that triggered The Guardian; a large animated statue that our initial feeble attacks could not deter from slaughtering our first level party.

There was likely a battle of some sort, but what I recall was this. Some of the party was holed up in a small sewer-type tunnel, watching the statue demolish the party and I was with them. Seeing our weapons appear to not be effective, and being of good alignment, I wanted to help. The leaders had disintegrated into a squabbling group, some of whom hid in the back, letting the others fall to their fate.

I can recall enlisting another of the stonger-looking characters to assist me, and demanded all the rope the party was carrying. In the moment of need, I had changed from the silent brute to The Hero. I had The Plan, and most of the players in the room looked over to the guy playing what they likely assumed was the Half-Orc Fighter, and were impressed by my leadership and quick actions.

With the help of my party member, we ran wide of the statue and encircled it with the ropes. Then I acted the hero once more, valiantly rushing up the back of the statue. Attempting to use my great strength, I pulled hard on the rope, trying to unbalance the statue as the ropes about its' legs tightened and cause it to topple.

The players were alternately cheering or waiting anxiously to see if my plan would succeed where their disorganized attempts had failed. The Dungeon Master had not seen this coming, likely had never suffered the disorienting feat of Improvisation. Where in the Dungeon Master Guide is the chapter on toppling the animated statue with the coils of hemp rope in perfect cut lengths of fifty feet?

So the Dungeon Master rolled some dice, and the hero's valiant actions to Save The Party culminated with this event...

I fell.

The statue stepped on my arm.

My arm was ripped from my body.

I was now a dying Half-Orc Assassin who specialized in the two-handed sword with one arm.

The rest of the characters fled, my girlfriend's character survived, though half the party did not. At the end, many of the players could not resist asking The Question.

“What should we have done?”

“How could we stop it?”

His reply makes me smile to this very day.

"You need magic weapons to hit it."

Though my girlfriend and I abstained, the group reply was as vehement as it was numerous and loud. "WE WERE FIRST-LEVEL CHARACTERS!” “WE DIDN’T HAVE MAGIC WEAPONS!" etc, etc.

He then sheepishly looked at his notes and uttered the understatement of all time.

"Oh, I guess I made it too hard then."

The game was over, my girlfriend looked at me with Those Eyes, and even her friend, as much a gamer nerd as any of us, seemed embarrassed at what happened to me, being his guest and having invited us to come play. I wasn't upset at all. It had been a couple of years since I had sat down to what I hoped was going to be a great D&D game. I realized that if I ever wanted a hope in hell of keeping my game books anywhere near the same shelf as my girlfriend's novels, I needed to impress her.

So I took inspiration from insipidness, and started my own campaign, with some new friends we had met. It turned into what became My Best Campaign Ever. It ran nearly two years, once a week, closed only on Christmas and New Years.

Those of you wanting to try role-playing, I encourage you to throw yourself into the moment and enjoy it as much as you can. You really are at the mercy of your Dungeon Master, but they are also at yours. There are schools of thought amongst the worst of the Dungeon Masters that they are placed in the role to Oppose The Players. This is incorrect. They set the stage, you are the one who determines the course of the story.

Good luck, and have fun.
I knew some of the Palace history, but not the bit about Jaade crashing that barge. That's good lore, right there.  :grin:

Offline Hawking

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Re: The Leeroy Corner: Simple Plans and Other Stories
« Reply #2 on: 03/15/18, 12:51:55 AM »
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From an ongoing campaign, this took place several weeks ago.
Dramatis Personae:

-Rose Kurz, Insufferable lawful good Paladin/all around cheerleader (played by yours truly)
-Ningle, chaotic good Gnome Wizard who was just in it for a good time.
-Bogar, chaotic good half-Orc. Part time philosopher, full time barbarian.
-Khazar, reanimated Tielfing bag of bones who just really wants to die. Chaotic neutral. Unhealthy relationship with some demons, and also probably Satan's punching bag.
-Alfredo, generic elf Archer with centuries of experience. A man of few words. Chaotic good.


We were getting duped by the mayor of an unassuming city.

People were going missing. Bones were turning up in large piles in the forests beyond the city. Lives were being lost here. The mayor knew more than she was letting on. 'Find the Lich, and defeat him.' She had said. But what was her relationship to this Lich? And what did she know about the Sylvans who had occupied this continent before the younger races came over and fucked it all up?

We asked. Bogar posed the question with his mighty 13 Charisma. The mayor was phlegmatic. 'Good enough, she's cool', said the party.
'Not good enough.' Said Rose, who was way too certain of her abilities, and also believed she was the Chosen One™. She questions the mayor with her mighty 18 Charisma. The mayor hesitated. The party insisted that Rose was being too pushy. 'Let's go, Paladin, and chase this obvious red herring.'
KERBLAM. Rose casts Command on the mayor, Jedi Mindtricking her.
'You are endangering lives you are beholden to protect by withholding this information. You will tell us all you know of these disappearances and of the Lich.' Said the noble Paladin, wasting a significant potion of the allotted time to which the Elven mayor was bound to obey her wishes.

The mayor knew more than she had said.
But the party wasn't around to hear it. Seeing the Paladin lash out, they had bolted for fear of reprisal, throwing poor Rose right under the horse-carriage.
"Congratulations." The mayor spat after breaking free of the Paladin's spell. "You have uncovered some painful personal history.'
The mayor lashed out and reached into the Paladin's mind, and forced Rose to smash her face against a nearby table for 30 long seconds.
The once beautiful Paladin's face was a mess that was to be only partially healed by the overpowered and significantly ezmode Lay on Hands.
Her companions were aghast. "You did what? That was really dumb. You're really dumb."
But she had 16 intelligence, she knew what she was doing.

Courage is having your face mashed like a potato for the greater good. The forces of good were able to use the information extracted from the treasonous mayor to find a source of the Lich's power and destroy it. The cowards came too.

The DM was unamused.


-Hawking Shatari, Wandering Warrior
-Aspasia Maguire, Smack Talker
-Rieko "Boogie" Black, Agent of the Empire