Plose and the Ogre
DM: As you approach the goblins, you see a hulking creature in their midst, clutching a two-handed sword in one huge fist. It…
Me: Is it an ogre?
DM: … Yes. You think it might be an ogre.
Me: Where’d these goblins get an ogre?
DM: I imagine it was the other way around. Anyway, the ogre is…
Me: Are they trying to get rid of him?
DM: He looks like he’s their leader. They’re doing what he’s telling them to do. And what he’s telling them is…
Me: Do you think an ogre could have sex with a goblin?
Me: Sex. There are no other ogres around, right? I wonder if he’s jerking off every morning or he’s using one of those goblins as a Fleshlight.
DM: As a flashlight?
Me: No, Fleshlight. It’s like this silicone vagina in a plastic flashlight shell. Hang on, I’ll show you…
DM: No, stop. Please. What does this have to do with the goblins again?
Me: The ogre. He could just pick up one of the goblins in one hand and…
DM: I am officially retracting the question.
Me: I’m just trying to understand the enemy. You’re the one who created the whole ogre/goblin sex situation.
DM: As I was saying… the ogre is directing the goblins to take the…
Me: I charge the ogre.
DM: You… why?
Me: Because… he’s… an ogre?
DM: The Prince hires ogres and goblins all the time. This one is wearing the Prince’s colors.
Me: What was that about the shoes?
DM: I have no idea what you’re talking about.
Me: It’s right here in my notes… uh… okay, here. “Shoes needs magic sword. Look for ogre… something, something.”
DM: Let me see… No, that’s not shoes, it’s “Plose.”
Me: That’s my character’s name!
DM: And you’ve miswritten it again. It looks like you were reminding yourself to kill one of the Prince’s ogres and make it look like an accident so you could steal his magic sword.
Me: That’s it! I charge the ogre!
DM: You do remember that you’re a paladin, right?
Me: Yeah, so?
DM: And that the Prince is the head of your paladin order?
Me: Who is the Prince again?
DM: The man who rescued you from a burning forest as a baby and raised you as his own? Who educated you and taught you to fight? Who has provided for every material, spiritual, and emotional need you have ever had?
Me: Well he should have given me a magic two-handed sword. Roll initiative, ogre!
DM: The ogre gets a 16.
DM: The ogre hits you with a twenty-five… you take fifteen hit points.
Me: Hah! Not even bloodied!
DM: The goblins all whirl their extra-large tripod-mounted crossbows on you…
Me: What? What crossbows? Tripod…? I thought they only had those on the city walls or something? You’re making this up!
DM: You’re on the city wall.
Me: How did I get here? I thought we were in a field.
DM: No. The rest of the party is in a field fighting giant spiders. You left and climbed on top of the city wall to see if the apple trees on the royal lawn were ripe, because you were going to sell the apples to the homeless and “be so rich you could pay the Pope to eat his own poop.”
Me: Heh heh. That’s a good idea.
DM: Let’s see… hit… hit… hit… hit… hit…
Me: Is all that against me?
DM: hit… hit… yes… hit… hit…
Me: How can they all be hitting? I have a 20 armor class!
DM: They’re ten levels higher than you and using specially steadied crossbows with a +4 proficiency bonus, and they all have 16 dexterities and expertise feats. They need a four to hit you. Okay, you take 65 more points of damage.
DM: Your turn.
Me: I’m dead! I’m all out of turns!
DM: Okay. In that case the ogre turns back towards the field, and orders the goblins to start firing on the giant spiders. What spiders don’t die are driven off, and the party can quickly retrieve the Orb of Amarran.
Me: That was stupid.
DM: Though saddened by the death of his adopted son Plose, the Prince is overwhelmed with relief at the return of the Orb. In payment he allows each of you to pick one weapon from his magical armory.
Me: That bastard! He never gave me anything!
DM: He is also refitting Plose’s old rooms as the new royal gaming arcade, and you guys can come by any time you like.
Me: What!? No!
DM: Oh, and remember those two serving women Plose was always going on about? The Prince claps his hands and they rip off each others clothes and start making out on the floor.
Me: Nooooo! It’s not fair! Wait! Plose has a twin brother! I just wrote it in my background! Plose II bursts in through the front door!
DM: Nope. Plose II died of syphilis at age six. He sat on the wrong toilet seat.
Me: Fine! I’m coming back as a zombie!
DM: Great! The rest of you guys up for a little zombie killing?