So earlier last week I was a bit stressed out: My mother had gone into the hospital and due to pneumonia was on a ventilator. Thankfully by Sunday morning she was out and back at home. Part of the stress was for a while she was really stuck to that ventilator, and I had flashbacks to my grandmother's passing back in January. Anyways the call from my parents that she was back at home came during my weekly D&D session here on campus.
I have to set the scene here, because I in part think my actions were a form of stress release than anything else. We have
- Preston (Dungeon Master), running 2nd Edition AD&D.
- Myself (Human Fighter)
- James (Halfling Thief)
- Chase (Human Wizard, Preston's older brother)
- Thor (Half-Elf Bard, Yes it's his real name and no he doesn't have a brother named Loki)
- Kyle (Human Druid, also a shapeshifter)
Kyle was absent from this session. Sad, because we did run into the local Feral Druid in the area, and we missed him talking nonsensically to animals. Moving on our party was needing information about a mine we had bought as a group and the last miner to work there frequented The Silver Crown. This tavern wasn't the greatest place in town but had a rotgut drink. Rondo, Chase's wizard, decides it would be a good time to buy a full mug and down it. It helps to understand that the wizard is an alcoholic, which helps when we need to make Molotov Cocktails. Rondo, shockingly, makes his save vs. poison but we still end up having to drag him back to the mansion we also just bought. The next day Roheen (me) and Lollard (James) make their way back to the Silver Crown to show off that Rondo is, in fact, still living.
Then the stupid hits ME. I decided I want Roheen to try to same feat and Rondo. I take only a shot of this rotgut. It doesn't go so well. I fall over blind stinking drunk. You have this 5'10" warrior in pitch black plate mail, his horned helmet to the side, face down on the tavern floor. Rondo, who by his miraculous rolls is now immune to the rotgut, takes another sip of the substance with no ill effects.
James, who has been playing a friendly rivalry between our characters, decides to try to one up the tall man. His tiny little hafling gets his own shot, and makes all the goddamn save rolls I missed. Then, in a stroke of brilliance, thinks the best thing his character would do in the situation would be to drink some wine. We're not talking about any old wine. No, this shit is weapons grade liquid. It's made from a local cheese[1], itself practically a weapon based on it's smell. Lollard takes a swig, and falls over to the same fate as Roheen. No saves, this cheese wine is that nasty.
This is all going on, the game in the real world, in a sound proof "Think Tank" at our dorms. I'm pretty sure if it had not been the laughter from our whole gaming group would have pissed off all around us. To finish of the story, Roheen and Lollard were hung out to dry, hanging over a trough to catch our vomit. This did not keep us dry, as Jame's character was cut down from his bindings and landed right in the trough. I had the same fate, only it was because Lollard used a throwing knife and cut me down before anyone could react. Yeah, rivalry in full effect there.
That laughter, and how much I loved the session, relieved a lot of stress I had built up even with my mother being back at home. I hope you guys enjoyed the story, and I'll see you next week.
[1] I'm not sure you can make wine out of cheese, but we'll go with it. It's more a weapon than a drink.
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