At the End of My Rope

Posted on March 06, 2018

My group's first few experiences with D&D weren't very serious. We just kind of joked around a lot, and it irritated our DM. So in the next campaign he did, he gave us pre-generated characters.

By this point, I considered myself a decent role-player, and one of our other friends thought the same way about himself. Our party dynamic was pretty interesting. We had the naive Cleric, the dashing and vain Fighter (me), the constantly flustered Paladin (the other good role-player), the gender fluid Dwarf Rogue, and the ever-fuming Wizard. My character was generally hated by everyone except the Cleric (who I treated like a kid brother most of the time). But the greatest ire I received was from the Paladin.

Constantly he lectured me on how my selfish ways, vanity, and constant trysts would be my downfall. He was very concerned with the well-being of my soul. I, in turn, blocked him at every turn. His biggest issue with me, however, was my vanity.

After clearing some abandoned mines, we split up the treasure equally, except for a single fiery orange gemstone the size of a fist. My Fighter, the Rogue, and the Wizard all wanted it, each for our own reasons. Because we couldn't agree, someone suggested in-character that we roll gambling dice for them. The Paladin, who wanted to sell the gem and split the gold amongst us, opted in as well.

I ended up winning, and to rub it in everyone's face I had the gem set into an intricate steel and leather eyepatch (which he wore just to look more 'hardened'). The Paladin fumed when he saw it.

Later, during a dungeon, I volunteered to cross a half-broken bridge (since the Rogue was scared of heights and I was the only other dex-based character), but only on the condition that the party tied a rope to me and caught me if I fell.

Needless to say, I fell. And the resulting Strength checks to keep hold of the rope left only the Paladin keeping me alive. I yelled for him to pull me up. He yelled for me to drop the eyepatch first. I proceeded to tell him where he could stick his scabbard.

Our DM ended the session there, and we stopped playing for so long that the DM lost all the notes and character sheets.

Submit your own Tales from the Table!

Please Note: By submitting your story you agree that we can publish it on the Internet and on other mediums if the opportunity arises. The names and events may be edited to protect the innocent.