Tuesday, September 15, 2009

Table Talk 2

In the last session of my D&D game, before I put it on hiatus, the player characters assembled their might to take down a red dragon. They'd been dealing with a family of dragons who were forming a power base inside the largest city in the land - one of the family turned out to be willing to help the PCs, though, and arranged for them to have a shot at killing her younger cousin.

So they trekked into the hills where the dragon made his home. He lived near a barbarian tribe that worshipped him as a semi-divine entity - bringing tributes to his cave, that sort of thing.

And the party was loaded for bear. Lots of preparation for the dragon's fire immunity and fiery breath weapon. Ultimately they prevailed in the battle - thanks to a surprisingly effective showing by the NPC Cleric as a front-line melee combatant. And once the battle was over, the dismemberment began.

See, my pal Eric often likes to play warrior-types with a thing for taking trophies of their kills. Teeth, claws, skulls. This is a tendency the rest of us tolerate in good humor. Eric's current character is no exception - in fact, he may be worse than usual, because as a warrior-wizard he's also looking for exotic spell components. So he began to chop up the dragon. He summoned up a mule to try and haul out some of the pieces.

Though what he said was :

Eric : "I attach the dragon's wings to the mule."

Which led to a round of amused speculation about animal hybridization experiments and crude stitches, and the laughter only intensified as he specified 'with hemp rope', leading us to envision the horrifically painful stitches such rope would form for the poor winged mule.

But that wasn't the really funny part.

Various bits of the dragon had been attached to whatever beasts of burden could be manifested and other bits were put on sledges for the players to haul out under their own power, when Kurt came up with an amusing mental image.

Kurt : "We'll probably stumble into that barbarian tribe of his. (tremulously) 'What are you doing to our god?'"

And as it sometimes does, musical inspiration struck me.

Me : (singing) "Stop draggin' our.. /stop draggin' our.. /stop draggin' our god around.."

And that was when the table busted up. Kurt even followed on with another line or two. I'm one bored evening away from writing out the rest of the lyrics to that.

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