Posted on March 01, 2018
I was in a 4th edition campaign with my brother, father, cousin, and a few friends. In this campaign I decided to veer away from my melee murder roots and play a Bard. I optimized my character to the maximum, putting the 18 I rolled into charisma and playing as a Tiefling, meaning I started with a charisma of 20. I trained in bluff and diplomacy, and thus Talia the Gifted was created.
Our party started out in a small town, and was tasked with removing the goblins and kobolds from the place. After liberating the abandoned general store and claiming some slightly looted rewards, I happened across a few jars of what was labeled as "Miracle Cream," a cop-out my DM brother had put on the shelves to satiate my curiosity.
I took some jars, and they came into play when we liberated the blacksmith's shop. We asked the thankful blacksmith if he could upgrade our arsenal with some magic weapons, and when he told us the price, I broke out my bluff skill. I told him of the strange, agelessness the miracle cream promoted, and then rolled against his insight. I got a 16, plus bonuses. He got a 2. The party walked away with +1 weapons and a precedent set in my mind.
We hit up the town jail and found a wounded guard who gave us some info. My brother had expected us to treat his wounds and leave him, or simply let him be. He hadn't expected me to roll diplomacy and convince him to join us in liberating the town. I still get dirty looks for making him look up stats for a human guard we weren't supposed to get.
The crowning moment, however, came at the end of the session when the town had to elect a new mayor after the old one met his unfortunate demise (on the edge of our swords). There were two candidates, and after collaborating with my cousin we decided we wanted to rig the election. So I went with the path of least resistance and rolled a bluff check on the town. "He murders kittens!" my Bard claimed. I rolled bluff, and I succeeded.
The town elected our candidate. My brother, already irritated by my Bard making the townsfolk dance like puppets, decided to have our candidate get on stage and say, "Thank you all for electing me, but I can't help but think I've gotten this position through illicit means. Namely, I think that Bard was lying!"
I didn't hesitate. "No, I wasn’t." I rolled. Nat 20. "Oops, my mistake! I accept my candidacy!"
And that's how I learned to stop worrying and love the Bard class.