My group of friends and I traded off DMing different campaigns, and when it fell to me to DM, I took up the mantle for fun times in Ravenloft. It was during one extended play session (at approx 3AM in the morning) when this story took place.
Shortly after the group reached the dark and evil lands, they found themselves in need of an Inn. It was either stay warm and safe indoors, or risk being stuck out in the cold during the night (which they had found to be an unwise idea). I steered them toward the Red Cat Inn. Everything appeared normal; warm fire in the hearth, a friendly innkeeper and his wife... the only oddity was there were a…
Military life has a way of bringing people from all over together in the most amusing ways. Several of us had grouped together and discovered that all six of us had played D&D. Only one of our number had never taken up the reigns as DM (but had always wanted to). The eyes of five experienced DMs twinkled, and we agreed to band together in a fortnight to make our way into the vast realm to conquer the unconquerable with nary a clue of what was going on (for a change) and to let the new guy run things.
Game day arrived and our new DM ran us through the typical tavern-get-together and we’re-all-the-best-of-chums-now-so-let’s-go-kill-som…
Our party Cleric was a little bit of a weirdo. He decided he wanted to start practicing making magic weapons. Problem was, we were traveling through a very poor continent, so he didn't have, say, a forge.
Refusing to let that stop him, he put together a makeshift forge out of rocks and prayers, put it on a wagon, and dragged it through the swamp with us.
He spends weeks practicing. He doesn't really have the necessary levels or skills to pull this off, but he's trying really hard, and our DM respected that. After enough badgering, the Cleric finally gets the DM to let him finish a magic knife.
"Okay, give me your roll," says the DM…
Our party is made up of typical fare: a hulking Half-Orc Barbarian named YR (pronounced Ugg... he's not good “wit letturs”); a dashing Half-Elf Sorcerer named Erendriel; a stalwart Half-Elven Cleric of Lomedae called Seethe; and Dave, our nondescript Human Rogue.
Most of the party is played by role-players—uninterested in the small details, just point me at the next enemy and let the slaying commence. So it befalls the only character who is interested to keep track of their finances. Dave's player cheerfully inventories items, loot, and gems, as well as calculates their pawning value. He rolls and role-plays for increasing their wort…
The session began like many others. The party was searching for a noble to speak on their behalf before the Baldurian parliament so they could take ownership of a Thieves' Guild House they’d recently cleared out.
After strong-arming a tailor whose shop sat above the Guild House into making them some better clothes, they headed for the nicest part of town to find where the city's elite ate brunch. Things were going just fine until the Monk decided he wanted to sample some under-the-table Illithid Calamari. I had the waiter offer it as a joke, but I should've known better.
The Monk crit failed his Constitution save; so instead of just…