| Roger Quigley |
Okay, just to start this all, I'll admit one thing: I am the worst kind of player. Wherever there is a party fit to be derailed, I will be there. Wherever there is a player looking for a good personality trait for their paladin, I'll be there (suggesting "hard to work with"). I have, in the past, been known to make characters for the simple purpose of derailing a campaign.
Not long ago, a man I know (let's call him Jay) started Rise of the Runelords. He was very excited, and I discussed ideas for my character. I wanted to play a rogue (save your rage for another thread, please), and was kicking around a few ideas. I came upon a rogue talent that lets the character dip his weapon in muck or feces to bestow a disease upon the first creature struck (why that is a class feature instead of just something you can do is beyond me). This is the true beginning of my story.
The problem I found was that the disease it bestowed was useless (DC 12, cured with 2 saves, deals dex and con damage). So, I discussed with the DM the idea of tweaking diseases and poisons. He was not on board.
But worse, he was adamant that diseases and poisons were fine! That it makes no sense for a poison or disease to be able to kill a strong and seasoned warrior (because, you know, constitution). I argued that Fortitude saves were essentially non-magical, therefore it makes no sense for them to bestow a supernatural near-immunity to poisons, especially at higher levels! I brought up the examples of Khal Drogo and Gregor Clegane from Game of Thrones, but Jay wouldn’t budge. He claimed that I was trying to manipulate the rules to make my character better. He said that he should not arbitrarily change the rules.
Okay, Okay, THIS is the true beginning of my story (patience, people). So I scrapped my character concept. Instead, I created a fighter. Con was my best score, obviously. The first day of the game arrives, and I am ready. Gregor Drogo was pitched as a standard stereotypical fighter type. He introduced himself to everyone at the Swallow-Tail festival (the other players, that is), and went about his way. Spoiler Alert: goblins attack. He survives the attacks just fine, because obviously.
While the PCs all get to know each other, Gregor decides to slip out of the meeting. Gregor has no interest in party composition, he is interested in only one thing. I tell Jay that I wish to exit the town. He asks if I intend to track the goblins back to their lair by following their path to the town. I say, “Gregor is not interested in goblins, Gregor is interested in only one thing.” Jay leaves it at that while he attends to the wishes of the other players.
They discuss their pedestrian schemes, but Gregor has no interest in pedestrian schemes. They decide to investigate, but as I have said: no interest. While outside the city, Gregor uses his convenient snake charmers kit (I didn’t bother to check and see if that was actually a thing, I relied on Jay’s preoccupation with attempting to get the story going.
But he would inevitably fail. There shall be no storyline progression, Gregor is not interested in story progression. Before long, the other players became interested in my exploits. They slowly abandoned their goblin investigation to investigate another strange occurrence. They became consumed with discovering the answer to one simple question: why was Gregor wrangling snakes?
They found their answer before long. Gregor returned to town and walked to the nearest bar. He set down his wriggling bag of snakes, and proclaimed in a loud voice, “who in this bar wants to die?!” The patrons of the bar all stopped their games, mostly out of curiosity, partly out of anger. Gregor continued, “Because I feel like dying! So which one of you wants to watch me kill myself!?”
Six adventurers in the corner of the bar stood up, and walked over to introduce themselves. However, Gregor in not interested in introductions. He asked, with a number of random insults to manhood thrown in, “So, who here wants to see what’s in my bag?” A short black-haired man wearing leather armor, equipped with two daggers and a shortbow answered, “It’s full of snakes.”
Gregor was genuinely thrown off by the supernaturally perfect guess. Almost as if this strange adventurer had been watching Gregor as he spent the day wrangling the tricky creatures. The bartender looked visibly shocked, but did not seem to want to do anything.
Gregor opened the bag, and pulled out a few snakes. He grabbed them by the head, and milked their poison into his beer mug. Shocked gasps ushered out from the crowd. Gregor spoke up, “So! How much will you (nice folks) pay me to drink this beer?” His voice boomed throughout the silent room. Then, almost all at once, they shouted in adoration, handing over their hard-earned silvers and treasures to watch this daring man potentially kill himself.
Gregor downed the drink in one heavy glug. His vision blurred, and he heard in his mind a strange chorus of voices coming from above him. As he sat at the table, it was almost as if the voices were speaking above the table.
Jay did not know what to do, and there was a spirited discussion of how to proceed. I told him that I would swallow the beer, and Jay asked for the poison. I showed him some of the poisons, and we discussed which one would apply. He settled on fiddleback poison, because that seemed to be a snake venom. Jay insisted that we add to the DC from 13, but I told him that we should not arbitrarily change the rules.
I rolled my fortitude save, and it was my time to shine. I threw the die, and it fell from the table. I kneeled down to retrieve it, and saw that it had landed on the 2. I have probably never been more grateful for the house rule that says to reroll die that fall on the floor. I smiled to myself. I rolled a second time.
8. The tension was palpable as I added up my numbers. “14,” I said. A sigh of relief ran out as Gregor’s vision cleared, and he stood up, shouting out in triumph and holding his hands up high. He prepared to do it again, pulling out two fresh snakes and ordering another beer. The rowdy and thoroughly entertained crowd shouted in joy as they handed me more of their hard-earned gold.
I rolled again, this time rolling a 5. A slight smirk crept upon Jay’s face as I rolled the die to determine how long I was nauseated. Gregor vomited, and the crowd gasped. A minute later, I rolled a save again. 15, I was in the clear, but I had to roll 2 in a row. I failed the next one, and took 2 con damage. However, with a DC of 13, and a modifier of +6 (now +5) it was not long before Gregor Drogo was up and shouting again.
And I wonder why I wasn’t invited back.