78 more posts in this thread. [Missing image file: 1325478431229.png]
Elina burst into your cottage, slamming the door behind her. Your sister's eyes are wide with terror. The villagers have you surrounded, torches and pitchforks held high in anger. Made desperate by the plague, the people of Grenwell blame you and your sister for their plight. Those with the gift of magic make convenient scapegoats in times of crisis. All who had survived the disease were had gathered into a mob outside, and they demanded retribution. The air is heavy with jeers and shouting bereft of compassion and reason. It's clear their rage will only subside once their bloodthirst has been slaked.
In a panic, your sister frantically stuffs her satchel with whatever provisions she could find from the pantry. She grabs a leather-bound book, your spellbook, from the kitchen table and tosses it into the bag along with a few loaves of stale bread. Tearfully, your older sister pushes the satchel into your hands and embraces you, bidding you a final farewell.
You scream in protest, but Elina has already begun to speak the words of power. A stone shatters your kitchen window, but she pays it no mind. There is a frightful banging on the flimsy wooden door to your cottage. You strike her across the face, but your sister does not falter. Falling to your knees you beg Elina not to finish the incantation, but she continues to speak the sorcerous words. The sound of splintering timber signals that the door has given way. You tear at your sister's skirt, pleading with her to not send you away, but the spell is complete.
In the blink of an eye, it is all gone. The mob, the torches, and Elina have vanished without a trace. You are all alone on a moonlit road. The shouts and jeers have been replaced by the chirping of crickets and the occasional hoot of a nearby owl. You weep until the sky grows pale at the approach of dawn.
>What is your name, sorceress?
>What is your physical appearance?
10 more posts in this thread. [Missing image file: Wow. Wow!.gif]
Hilarious/stupid/ridiculous/hilariously and stupidly ridiculous shit your DM has pulled?
>dm tells us we're going to what is basically a fantasy version of the bermuda triangle
>current party is sorcerer (me, still fairly new to DnD), necromancer (closest thing our group has to a That Guy, although he's still a bro), rogue (the most serious player), and druid
>stereotypical dark clouds, deep purple fog, etc etc
>we hit land and disembark
>i make a spot check
>"You spot a post, it's a bit far to make out what exactly it is though"
>"As you approach..."
>"I'm sorry, but I've mentioned this a long time ago"
>"I told you to expect it"
>"when you least expected it."
>jesus man get on with it
>"As you approach you make out what the pillar is."
>is this going to be an outdoor warlock strip club or something
>"There are 10 figures by it and you hear a sound"
>he sends us this link
>"They are playing some B Ball"
>collective "SON OF A BITCH" from the group
>mfw campaign started as a rag-tag group of adventurers investigating a ghost town because of giant spiders
>mfw we are now dealing with basketball playing zombies