PotM April

[Admin Choc]

• joke – grap maken
• funny – grappig
• prank – geintje
• humor – humor
• lie – liegen
• fool – dwaas
• deceptive – misleidend
• surprise – verrassen
• sneaky – stiekem
• prankster – grappenmaker
• April 1st – één april
• play a joke – een grap uithalen

April, a Month in the Netherlands, starts with pranking each other to the fullest. Even though I am not into pranking others myself, I have seen so many cool pranks online, my interest in board gaming always delivers a lot of funny expansions, game release news, weird box designs, and fake news. This Month we have Easter, (religiously and ofcourse the bunny hiding eggs), Pentecost and... our Monarchic King's Day! So a month full of special days, meaning days off work and time to read and nominate some cool posts!!!! yes, that was a weak bridge from one subject to another but could not think of a better one, hehe*

Please keep in mind that if you spot a cool, original, awesome post -> nominate it for all of us to read and enjoy as well :-). Why keeping it for yourself when you can share the fun and nominate the post in here?

You need to create one post only, to keep everything organizeda post in this thread, and explain to us why you thought this post was worth your nomination.
A link would be appreciated and that is all it takes. Yes, feel free to nominate your own post, there is no shame at all in doing that, if you want to share a written gem you are proud off, do not keep it to yourself but share it.

Remember: nominating makes you cool and will add swag to your personality

[Fillyjonk]

Nomination Player: Wynamoinen Game: The Banshee Bride System: 5e DM: Fillyjonk Post: Laisren Confronts the Banshee Context: We are at the climax of a one shot where a team of hardy adventurers are STEPS away from escaping the hellish demiplane where an angry Banshee has trapped them. Laisren, a simple farm boy from a small, upright and uptight town, tries to get the monster to remember she was once a person in the hopes of retrieving a stone that contains the lost souls of another player's family. Reason for Nominating: In this heartfelt, beautifully written post, Wynamoinen is doing four things at once. 1) Being extremely collaborative and taking a huge risk to help another player. 2) Bringing in Laisren's backstory and history, so we see how his choices here reflect who this character is. We have all come to know Laisren very well, and this is spot on. 3) Remembering an important item and a plot point from all the way back in Chapter 1 and using them at this key moment. Ahhh how a DM loves a player who invests this deeply! He paid such close attention to the world I spent so much time and energy crafting. *weep* 4) Engaging deeply with an NPC. He has a whole conversation with the Banshee, letting me have a chance to step into the game and play her part. This is great fun for a DM, and in this case, he also gives the Banshee options— a path through a story I could not resolve without such deep player buy in. His choices will cause her to reveal secrets and close out a storyline I thought would not be resolved before the game was over. As a player, If I write an entry that does one of the above things, I feel I have probably done enough to justify hitting the POST button. But he does four really good empathetic and movement-forward things? WOW! *wild applause*   Laisren Laisren leads A'Ru (and their repsective posessor Marda-ghosts) down the path he trod before. From the vestry, down to the chapel. He peeps in to see if it is occupied. It is not. He enters there, and then turns to the east door. He looks down at his ridiculous acolyte's disguise and tears it off. His tail remains hidden under his farmer's tunic. He grips his weapon tight, confirms A'Ru is ready, and then bursts through the door. There is Malveen! Not Liri (though of course Liri), but the Malveen they battled, gruesome and beaten. She looks to the two warriors but does not charge. She does not wail. She looks pensive, even lost. Laisren stops his charge short, skidding amidst the debris. He puts up his fork and raises is left hand, as if in surrender or truce. He looks around to see the others finding their places. He notes the mirror. But Laisren only has attention for the Bride. He advances slowly towards her, holding his fork vertically, like a walking stick. It clacks along with him as he approaches. He stops at a respectful distance, trying to meet her eyes (and trying his best to avoid the shudder that wants to pass down his spine). He again rubs his wizened face, and he sighs. He leans on the fork like a crook and can't help a small chuckle. "Do you even recognize me anymore? Your Groom did this to me. Just like he ..." he looks Malveen's undead form, but decides not to press that issue. "I can't say I like him very much." He sighs again and shift his weight on his makeshift crook. A joint pops. He speaks low, like in a conversation over a dimming fireplace. “We failed. I’m sorry. For all this. You didn’t deserve it. Tomas didn’t. Vildenai didn’t. You deserved better. And… and I think we could have helped. I thought we could. But we didn’t." He pauses to see if there's a response - will she snap back? Attack? - but nothing immediately comes. Laisren scowls. She should do SOMETHING! Raising his voice, he blurts, “We shouldn’t be here! You don’t get off free. We just wanted your help. We came to you. And you hurt us. You did this to us. Look at me! Look at poor Master Hlin. Don't expect forgiveness all of a sudden! But. Well. Once we were here, we saw the way of things. Everyone has their reasons. There's no forgiveness for what your Groom was doing. What your father did. We say the way of things. I tried to help. But. I’m no hero. I couldn’t do it. So all I can say is: I’m sorry for what was done to you. And I’m sorry for what I didn’t do. What I should have done." Hanging his head, Laisren summages into his pack. “Look, I have this.” He produces a statuette of a cat, their companion, Baly. “This was… is… the elf who came with us, Baly. He had an ear ring, made by your love. The pair to yours. We know. Would… would you like it? We can give it to you. But. You’ve got something that matters to our friend, Nukky. That red stone. We need it. We can’t leave without it. We can offer you this statue, it has the earring within it. And look, I’ve even got these.” Laisren pulls out the daggers he bought for a pittance from Tomas. "He said you helped him with them. He said they said... um, oh I can't remember. About a hero, a false one." He grimaces. "Here I am. I will give you what I have." He extends his now-overflowing hands, with statue and dagger pair, handles first. "They belong together. They belong with you. Like he did. Like the two of you did, together. I know it’s not enough. But… it’s what I can do." “Sometimes together can’t happen, even when it’s the right thing. I know. I know. It’s terrible. You’ve shown me. I belong to someone. Like you do. But fate got in our way, too. It's in your book. So, I guess… We just need to put one foot in front of another. I… I don’t know what that means for me. I can’t even…” His mouth involuntarily turns down in pain, and he wipes a tear with a shirtsleeve. “But here’s a piece of your love, that you won’t ever lose. Just… please give us that piece of Nukky”

[Alemar]

Player: Alemar
Game: The Yondering Lands
System: 5e
DM: Amarga
Post: Harper tells a Tale

Reason: Harper was asked to tell the story of how her and the adventuring party wound up in a strange land. I am proud of the way I was able to convey the information to an NPC, and who doesn't love an overly dramatic / eerie Origin Story? Complete with multiple castings of Thaumaturgy to set the mood for everyone.

[Retry]

Player: jbear
Game: Tales of the Fen: Red Claw (Crimson Claw Team)
System: Dungeons and Dragons 5e
DM: Retry

Reason: It is the final scene of the game. The final round of combat - the wounded dragon has suffered heavy damage from the intruding adventurers. With a final fiery breath attack the Adult Red Dragon attempts to leave its lair behind to save its own scales. However, the party would not let their quarry escape so easily!

Through clever tactics and some rule of cool at play we are rewarded with the finale of this adventure! I was quite open about the Dragon's remaining health and that this would be the final round. Do or die, as it would escape if they missed and the dice gods heard their plight.

Post: LINK

 

Originally Posted by jbear

[47Ronin]

Player: mad_gondsman
Game: Icewind Dale: Cold Souls
System: DnD 5e
DM: Flying Fox

Reason: Flying Fox's game has only just started, but already there's some great character work going on. In a team in which almost everyone has below average Charisma, we all seemed anxious to show just how socially inept our characters were, but no one nailed it quite as expertly (and with as much humour) as mad_gondsman in his introductory post for Ralston "Piper" Farnsley.

Post: Piper feels a bit sheepish

[writelite]

This might get overlooked, given the rules... But I would be depriving the reader, I feel, of the complete enjoyment this fragment can offer - should I only point out one post: Here is a storytelling duet between our GM, 97mg, and Palliven, a player of the second group -- Pal's call (post 39), mg's reply (post 43), and Pal's ending (post 45 on the page); it's the last paragraph in the first two posts and the first paragraph of the last post mentioned.

The system and world here is Forbidden Lands, where magic comes in exotic and RP stimulating flavors, and the two writers give a fine example of what can be experienced in the game: Pal's character, Ravgor, calls to the mountain he's on - as to a living being, for knowledge. The mountain (97mg) answers, and more than with thought -- it's a vision that speaks! Palliven, then, concludes the interaction, describing Ravgor's return to usual perception.

Were it only one post - of one player, it might not have impressed as much, maybe; though the word-craft and the ideas weaved in here are excellent. The fact that two people, working together - though each with his own style, have managed to achieve something impressive is what makes this special. And RPGX too, as the place for it.

Now, in accordance with this contest's rules, I'll nominate Palliven and his last post I mentioned. He has a way with words that allows much to be expressed within little space, and quite vividly and engaging - focusing on his character's relationship with the immediate environment and the game world. There is a lot of personality to Ravgor, too, and a post seldom passes where that is not emphasized to good story effect.

Both Palliven and 97mg are words artists, and I hope to attract more attention to their approachable and charming writings. Besides them, our game has smeowlin's consistent RP, as well as psuedenim' and Effete's play with words, within the permissive boundaries of their complex characters. If the readers have time, perhaps they can search back to where Effete, psuedenim, and DBCowboy make a good show out of exploring an abandoned house - before it ended up in flames. That is one of the times their writing was best matched. Or a bit later in the story where a hint of romance is in the air between Effete's Oniver and Bethe, an NPC skillfully handled by our GM. I believe them well worth your story time : )

[bananabadger]

Player: Leftyyy88
Game: Reluctant Heroes
System: D&D Homebrew
DM: Horseman/Gibbon/Rasgorn

Post: Kusta is on the verge of becoming a full-fledged warrior. But for now, the youthful hobgoblin has to complete other tasks, such as playing nanny to groups of younger hobgoblins--the hobbles--as they gather wood for the tribe's nightly fire. Of course, Kusta resents this, but he also is prepared to defend the hobbles from strange noises in the woods and manages to connect with the younger hobbles and win their admiration as he prompts Yaviz--a daredevil hobble--to provide more details about his failed attempt to ride a wild deer.

Context: This is from a zero-session character-building thread. Leftyyy88 is going through a short adventure that builds up his hobgoblin's background and connections. Taking time for these delightful interactions with NPCs provides depth for story elements that can serve as possible hooks for future interactions and adventures. Even when you are posting as a big, fierce hobgoblin ... it's the small things that matter.

Link to Post

 

Kusta's annoyance at being stuck with the hobbles quickly subsides with the crashing in the distance. Uncle Laktos may have stuck him with this undesirable task, but now it was his turn to protect the young ones. Kusta reached into the pile of kindling and grabbed the sturdiest branch he could find. He would find this disturbance and fight it off. He would win the respect of his tribe and his elders. Everybody would hail him as a hero this night! He set off through the underbrush with a determined gait.

"Kusta? What about us?"

The youthful hobgoblin stopped dead in his tracks. He couldn't very well bring honor to the tribe if he let the hobbles get lost or eaten while he was fighting some monster. He sighed and turned around. Growing up was supposed to be fun. But responsibility was anything but.

Another crash in the distance made the whole group pause: breath held, movements rigid, eyes scanning everything. Kusta listened and tried to think what might be making this sound. Were two elk bulls fighting over a female? Had a tree fallen? He shook his head. He had one priority right now. Uncle Laktos had tasked him with the hobbles and with the kindling. If he returned without either... The thought made the splotchless hobgoblin shudder.

"Come. We must get back. Gather the sticks, now, and hurry. Laktos-viz doesn't tolerate lazy hobbles."

Kusta matched his words with action. He helped them gather the last of the branches onto the canvas and roll it up. Then he took the heaviest part of the bundle and began pulling, letting the hobbles pull on the edges. As they dragged the kindling back to the camp, Kusta couldn't help dreaming of fighting some wicked monster and saving his tribe. Every few minutes he would look over his shoulder to make sure nothing followed them.

As they neared the camp, Kusta leaned over to Yaviz. "How far did you get?"

Yaviz turned a confused face to Kusta. "What?"

"On the deer. How far did you ride it?"

Yaviz frowned. "Just a few steps. I snuck up from behind it and tried to jump on, but it bucked and I fell."

"That is very bad. I am tempted to tell your mother about this." Yaviz's countenance fell and Kusta laughed before continuing. "You need to wait in a tree and ambush it from above. Much better chances of staying on the deer that way."

Yaviz peeked at Kusta, but when he saw the hobgoblin's slight smile he broke into a giggle. Soon all the hobbles, and Kusta too, were laughing.

 

Taking the hobbles back to camp, begrudgingly :P Do you need a STR check to drag the canvas?
I put a temp score of [ability]-3 in the three physical scores on my sheet so the skills and attacks and whatnot should all work themselves out via the character sheet code. And the rolls below all have the prof. removed.

Dice * Insight:

1d20+2

(12)+2

Total = 14

Dice * History:

1d20-1

(13)-1

Total = 12

I would also like to make a survival check to try to identify the sound, assuming it's natural (ie. the elk or a tree falling).

Dice * Survival:

1d20+2

(1)+2

Total = 3

[Elanir]

April PotM Nomination Player: Black Jim Game: Dragons of a Broken World: A Dragonlance Age of Mortals Campaign System: DnD 5e DM: Elanir Reason: It is often that we hear that a failed check can make the story more interesting and lead to better roleplaying than a successful one. Black Jim obviously believes in this and has provided a post so masterfully written to prove his point to anyone who still doubts. His character, Xihue, a unique individual, since he originates from a different continent than the one the adventure takes place on, has just failed his Stealth check as a group of evil knights approach on horseback. Most of his companions will be able to hide in time, but what about him? Though his movement is restricted by a burning injury he suffered a short time ago at the hands of a budding sorcerer, he doesn’t give up. Why? It is the beautiful story he provides that explains it. This is not an epic story about killing a dragon or saving a friend’s life from a group of bandits. It is merely a story about crossing the wilderness as fast as possible. It is the story of a young man seeking to prove himself to gain the respect of his clan and the favor of the girls. Its simplicity -and realism- stresses its great importance for the character and the way that Black Jim describes the events and the individuals involved in it, makes it a true pleasure to read. Does Xihue succeed? You are going to have to read the post to find out. No matter what happens to Xihue, you are going to feel like a winner! Post link: A victory of a different kind   Xihue of the Alan-Atu A burst of light preceded the heat of arcane fire as the world around Hashem ignited. Without thought, the world spun as sewer walls, suddenly visible in stark relief, momentarily free from their customary gloom and shadow, reverberated with the sound of the Khurishman's voice. This man was as damaged as Aric and more dangerous for his apparent lack of control over forces that could have easily ended this cycle upon the wheel for Xihue. "Peace be with you, Hashem." intoned the shepherd as he rose and bowed briefly to the emotionally damaged boy. Isandril intervened and the son of the mountains was glad for the elf's calming presence. Magic was more abundant here than it had been back home. Whenever a man shall need a teacher, one will appear. The old adage echoed with the Ascended Master's voice. As long as that tutor wasn't an incarnation of death, there was hope for growth. Even when fatality arrived as an instructor, it gave a soul another chance to begin again with greater wisdom. His belongings properly collected and incorporated into his attire, the Alan-Atu monk followed Naelathan and Larimielle from the sewer sanctuary. Four Years Ago All the unproven men in the clan were taken out onto the flatlands amid the tall browned grasses of late fall shortly after their decent from the mountainside camps of summer. They would be guided to an unknown, unmarked, lonely place, far from the safety and comfort of hearth and home. One skin of fresh water, one pouch of short rations, a knife and shield were provided each teenager. The three adult warriors who brought them to this place departed a few short hours before sunset. They would be watching tomorrow but could not, would not help. Their job was to chronicle this test for the bards who would sing life songs at the campfires during upcoming long winter nights. If they worked together, all the boys would survive but the first to arrive back at the village circle would be given high honors. All the young women would be watching and the winner always had their comforting warmth to surround them at night. The victors were often the first to sire children and their names were known by the wise men and the women elders. Those who arrived last were always relegated to the least desirable jobs, latrine duty, or re-dedicated themselves to training for the next year's contest. Each man could compete twice in their lifetime. Of the five present, Lihong was a year older than Xihue and, although he was a half-hand shorter than the shepherd monk, Lihong was the fastest boy in the village. The two were good friends. The other three "men" were younger and had never run before. Each of the five took turns trying to get some rest. It had taken them two days walking to get to this spot and they were expected to complete this challenge by sundown the next day. They would all have to run, find their way, avoid the dangers of the wilds, and outpace four of their peers. For now, they were friends with a common goal and shared expectation. In a few hours they would become competitors as well as clan brothers. Lihong was smart enough to know that his speed was only one advantage. The youngest boy of the five had the best sense of direction and Xihue had the best coordination of them all. One of the other two was the smartest and the last boy wasn't particularly special at anything but neither was he deficient in any way. Early morning hours blinded the five young men within the inky blackness of a starless, moonless night. Bioluminescence of some mosses scattered among the scrubby, low profile trees and within the rocky crags of stone scrabble at the foothills provided the only hint of the surrounding wilderness. There was no campfire. There were no tents or shelters to protect these Alan-Atu youth against the inherently frigid, cooled climate of autumn. To have company in misery seemed something to be grateful for as they huddled together, customarily sharing each other's warmth. At least they didn't have to suffer the ravages of rain this year. There were times when the trial had been conducted under the ceaseless conflagration of endless lightning under a sky that screamed in it's booming voice and every feature of the land was clothed in wet shrouds of obscuring torrents or thick folds of seasonal fog. Not one of them could tell the moment when darkness began to dissipate. One of the younger boys simply noticed that he could see features of the terrain that had been invisible just moments earlier. As soon as the horizon appeared and the hulking silhouette of the mountains materialized to the south, Lihong began to move and Xihue followed closely behind. Three smaller lads trailed them in silence. Predators hunted by scent and sound. They had all masked their scent with dirt and mud from last night's camp and placed sprigs of blooming plantlife behind their ears. Birds were fairly rioting by this time in full song as an overcast sky slowly transitioned into morning's muted glow. The boys moved faster with each moment of increased brightness. Lihong and Xihue soon left the other three behind and ran together toward home. After six hours at a steady pace, they slowed for a light meal and to refill their waterskins in a clear spring that bubbled happily from the side of a rocky slope. There were many like it in this land. In another six hours, they could see smoke from the village casually ascending, a finger of artificial cloud that pointed the way. There was no true adventure here, only a long run between two friend until Lihong smiled a wicked grin, clapped Xihue on the back, and began his final sprint of the day. "Peace be with you, Xihue. I shall tell everyone that you will be along shortly." Within a few minutes, the faster boy was hundreds of yards ahead of his friend. There was no fanfare. There was no grand adventure. Xihue was resigned to his fate and his pace slackened until he reached the final rise of the riverbank, about six hundred yards from the village. To his shock and surprise, he saw Lihong slogging through deep mud, bogged down and moving at a crawling pace. He had chosen to ford the river in the wrong place and was paying the price for that decision. His heart sprang back to life as Xihue sprinted with every ounce of vitality that remained within him. He could be the winner! The better crossing was only about thirty yards to the west but Lihong was close to regaining solid ground. Xihue shot past the other boy at full speed, wet with the spray kicked up from the riverbed, yet careful not to slip upon the smooth stones of the shallows. Everyone from the village was clapping and cheering, calling him home. It was exhilarating! His strides lengthened like a horse extending from a canter into a full gallop. He had never run so fast in his life and he smiled with elation as the goal came into view. Seated upon his thin bench beside the small hut, the Master applauded Xihue and looked proud of him. Was there ever a greater feeling of achievement, of success? If so, Xihue could not imagine it. With less than 120 yards to go, however, Xihue realized that they were not cheering for him. Lihong had freed himself from the mud and had been rapidly gaining, and the other man passed Xihue with only 30 yards remaining, claiming the prize, the accolades and the glory. Xihue finished a close second, a place that, had he not resigned himself to this very fate too soon, could have been Lihong's destiny. Exhausted and belabored by heaving breaths, Xihue collapsed at the feet of his Master who offered water and a knowing smile from behind the long white lines of his thin bearded face. "Congratulations Xihue, I am proud of you!" "But... Master... <<huff>>... I lost!" "Did you? Did you really?" "Please... Master... <<huff, huff>>... Don't... tease me...<<huff>>... now! You saw Lihong pass <<weeze>>... me." "Yes, I did. He was stuck in the mud but did not give up. He struggled his way free and used every skill he possessed to chase you down and pass you. Yet, you are here! You made him work for it. You arrived at nearly the same time even though Lihong is much faster than you. Perhaps you could have won if you had been running as fast as you did at the end when you first reached the river? It does not matter now. To the victor goes the spoils.", the old man began to massage the shoulders and muscles, arms and legs with skillfulness and every lingering fatigue was banished as the wrinkled old hands kneaded away pain and tension, clearing each chakra. "That was your second run. You will never have another chance to win that particular race but their will be other races. There will be other challenges in life. Peace be with you, Xihue. Look forward to your future victories and learn from losses and near successes. You have done well today." Under a Khurish Sun Knights of Neraka had become Xihue's least favorite people on Ansalon. They had tormented everyone they encountered with their totalitarian tyranny. They were violent, unrelenting, fanatical, and powerful. Xihue did not like to kill but it was becoming increasingly apparent that their eradication, as an order if not as individuals, might be a blessing to all sentient races upon Krynn. "Riders! A Dark Knights mounted patrol. About half a dozen armored horses bearing knights, A group of seven Knights of Nerakaa talon probably." "There!", Xihue spotted the dust cloud of the approaching cavalry before they crested the horizon and had quickly scanned the area for cover. There was an outcropping of rocks, barely within reach if everyone pressed themselves. The shepherd broke into a sprint that he hadn't experienced in over 4 years. There will be other races, Xihue. Pain hobbled the monk at first but panic was a familiar foe that had been conquered long ago. With inward calm and carefully collected breath, the strange man from the East closed his mind to the ravages of his body. Chakra's filled, unblocked and fluid with each mindful inhalation. As graceful as a gazelle, the young man overtook Tegan, traversing over 80 feet in less than 6 seconds, and gracefully ensconced himself behind the cover of the outcroppings. From cover, Xihue turned to see either the bravest or the dumbest stunt that Talia had ever attempted in his company. She defiantly stood before the advancing horsemen with her sling-staff whirling dangerously above her head. Peace be with you, Talia!! If this works, I would proudly sire your children. thought the monk as a twinge of pain from his burn reminded him that he was still injured.   Xihue has a normal movement of 40ft., doubled to 80ft using the full dash action. A successful athletics check (18) should allow him to accomplish the feat. How badly did the burn damage restrict his movement?   Xihue Human Monk 2 Acrobatics +6 ♦ Perception +6 ♦ Animal Handling +5 ♦ Survival +5 Proficient Skills Ability Scores Str 12/+1 Int 9/-1   Dex 16/+3 Wis 16/+3   Con 14/+2 Cha 10/+0   Sheet Stats & Saves HP 15/18 HD 1d8 AC 16 DEX +5 Init +3 WIS +3 KI 1     Speed 40 ft.     Attacks Unarmed +3 1d4+5 billy club +5 1d4+3 Staff +3 1d6+3 dart +5 1d4+3 Sash +3 +5 1d6+3 spec Current Actions Action: Full movement Bonus Action: Dash Movement: >80 ft Rolls: Athletics=17 Reaction/Free Object InteractionFOI: none Equipment Bedroll Tiger skin   Waterskin Tiger stomach from the same tiger as the bedroll   9 Torches   Tiger Tooth pendant   Flute   50' Rope   Trinket : Invitation to a party Where someone was murdered, given to Xi by a Minotaur   Ram's scrotum coin purse with all of Xi's wealth   Ink brush Mom said I should write home   Candle Dad said "Caves are dark"       Abilities & Spells Unarmored Defense   Martial Arts   Ki Points = 1/2   Caramon's Fist XP & Inspiration 300/900 XP 0 Inspiration Notes: Suffering from 1 point of exhaustion