Author Topic: The Tale of Sir Rathgar [4e]  (Read 1714 times)

Offline Plush Von Plush

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The Tale of Sir Rathgar [4e]
« on: December 31, 2013, 09:43:24 PM »
Alright, so here goes.

This whole thing started in D&D club, a few years back. I was pretty excited to go, even though it was 4e, which I had only played in a brief online campaign. (Long story short, the DM completely screwed up a roleplay I was in by bringing in OOC issues, acted in a manner I disapproved of to other people, and met at inconvenient times. Long story short, I dropped.)

I finally get in the club room, late. I get handed a paladin to play. I explain that I'd rather play my own character, which I had sort of made. (Chuckles, the elven bard! Breaker of the Unbreakable Chalice! Ah, but that's a story for another time...) I basically get "whatever, not my problem" as an answer, since the main DM didn't show up and the secondary DM, a sort-of-friend who we will affectionately call "Ranger-Man" (Every game! I swear to god!) was in panic mode, just giving everyone pregens, hoping they would learn the game and stop bothering him so he could run something half-decent.

So I go, "Alright."

Now, one of my best friends, "Wizard-Man," named because he consistently played wizards, (If we keep going by this naming scheme, I'm going to have to call myself Godlike-Charisma-Man) was there, and he could see I was a little annoyed, but he had no idea what I was about to do to this campaign. Heck, I don't think that even I knew what I was going to do to this campaign, though I was beginning to get a few ideas. So nobody knew what to expect when I asked, "So, are classes restricted by alignment in 4e?"

The answer I got was "No, you can be whatever alignment you want, even as a paladin." Score.

So SIR RATHGAR, the worlds most EVIL and VILLAINOUS paladin, the GODLESS BLADE, and the self proclaimed "BITCH-MAGNET" was originally supposed to just be that. He wasn't designed to be a campaign-wrecker-- hell, this wasn't even a regular campaign, and I hadn't designed the character! It was a just a module designed to teach newbies the game, and I was supposed to use what was in front of me.

But hey, when I'm not allowed to do any sort of character customization, I go for broke on roleplaying. And I'd be damned if I wasn't going to roleplay the most evil, villainous, entertaining paladin that ever existed.

The game started outside an inn. There was Xenoroc, human wizard (Wizard-Man), Throthbeard the Unquenchable, dwarf fighter (Throthbeard, since that name is awesome), some ranger played by some girl who only showed up once, (Ranger-Girl) and SIR RATHGAR. After a brief description of the town, we were asked what our characters do. Immediately deciding that SIR RATHGAR possesses an irrational hatred of dwarves, I picked up our dwarf and chucked him through the window while screaming "I DEFY YOU, SHORT ONE!"

There was a brief moment of silence. The DM asked me if I really wanted to do that. I told him that not only do I do that, when I walk in, I set the first peasant I see on fire, in order to "Send a message."

The inn, apparently being populated by the worlds calmest fucking peasants, sat there quietly while I proceeded to roast and urinate on the charred corpse of one of their fellow diners. Eventually, one of them got up the courage to ask me why I had done this. I told him "BECAUSE HE LOOKED UGLY, UGLY" and then proceed to light him on fire as well.

The rest of the party just sort of walked in and sat down. In possession of the highest charisma, and now beginning to realize that nobody else was going to do anything to interfere with my blazing trail of destruction and casual racism, I decided to go and talk to the owner of the inn. (I did NOT light her on fire, because Wizard-Man told me that his wizard would chuck a magic missile at my dick if I tried. I should have let him.)

With a decent diplomacy roll, I managed to get her to tell me some drow had been attacking the town. I told her that elves were coward bastards, but not as bad as dwarves. I then shouted that bit at Throthbeard, who was proceeding to get very, very drunk. Wisely, he ignored me.

I screwed around for a little while, lighting more peasants on fire and bluffing them into thinking it was the rangers fault until the DM FINALLY realizes that this is going absolutely nowhere and timeskips to the fight. Drow attack the inn, as we're all sleeping. Except, as I proceed to inform everyone, I was not sleeping. I was trying to get some of the peasants to piss in Throthbeards bed. After making a successful Endurance check to stay awake, but miserably failing the Perception check to hear the elves, I clump downstairs while bawdily singing "Fuck Bitches, Get Money."

Either the drow got an absolutely awful initaitive, or for some reason the DM did NOT want to kill me (unlikely), because I managed to surprise the first few attackers-- a paladin in full plate mail running down the stairs loudly singing and flipping off shadows.
Taking advantage of this, I declare my intention to use Throthbeard as an impromptu mace. This was not allowed, but only because Throthbeard was upstairs in a bed some guys had just pissed in. He did allow me to throw a table at the elves, and I also lit it on fire, because dammit, if SIR RATHGAR was going to throw a table at the sissy elves, he was going to light it on fire for good measure.
The table instantly killed two of the drow, and woke up the rest of the party, who rushed downstairs.

When combat began, after the wizard had fired a magic missile at the drow, and the urine-soaked dwarf fighter had charged I threw another table, since I figured that anything that insantly killed drow was a good thing. Unfortunately, I rolled really awful on the check. Like, awful enough to hit Throthbeard (honest mistake) who had woken up to the smell of piss, came downstairs to get a drink of ale, and was now trapped under the burning wreckage with a maniacally laughing SIR RATHGAR in the background. He then proceeded to fail each and every check required to lift it off, slowly burning to death as the rest of the party completely forgot about him.

On my next turn, I grabbed the bemused wizard and ran to the stairs, correctly assuming that the ranger, having utterly failed her initial perception check, was almost certainly going to die. Drawing my sword, I snagged some lamp oil from my pack and proceeded to begin throwing that shit at every drow I could find, adding even more to the all-consuming blaze that was now reaching full force throughout the inn, easily fending off the increasingly desperate raiders as they attacked me (Paladins do have the best level one AC in the entire game) while Wizard-Man started bombarding them with spells.

When we ran out of things to kill, the innkeeper told me to get out of the building because it was going to collapse. I told her to "stick it where the sun don't shine," stabbed her in the face, and grabbing Wizard-Man by the hair, ran to the upper floors, getting set on fire in the process. I threw him out a window and onto the street, dealing him an immense amount of damage. Thankfully, that did not kill him.
What DID kill him was me jumping out of the inn on top of him, correctly assuming that the check would be easier to pass if I had a cushion. Rising, covered in blood, still on fire, I then raised my hands and screamed "I AM YOUR GOD, MORTALS! BOW TO ME!!!"

Rolling an unmodified 17 on my Intimidate was enough to succeed, especially with the massive situational modifier that I had gotten. (Because fire, blood, jumping out of a building, pyromaniacal reputation, etc.) My final roll was somewhere in the thirties.

So the peasants fell to their knees, worshiping me as a God while I dropped my pants and started urinating on myself to put the fire out, while proceeding to belt out "FUCK BITCHES, GET MONEY" as loudly as possible.

I was PUMPED at the end of that session. The rest of the players just looked sort of shell-shocked, except Wizard-Man, who was downright pissed off. The DM must have aged ten years in those short two hours. He let us out without a word, ashen-faced.

When the main DM finally showed up for next week, he informed me that the other GM had begged for me to not show up at his table, the ranger girl was so traumatized that she wouldn't be coming back, (which I actually did feel legitimately bad about-- I did apologize to her afterwards, and she joined the year after that, when everything had been all sorted out) and I would be allowed to play my own character as long as the words "SIR RATHGAR" were never said in his presence ever again.

And that's how I joined D&D club, as well as how I used to be a massive dickwad.

True story.
This post is almost certainly not relevant.