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Destroying the world on a budget
Archived Post
Member Posts: 5,050,278 Bounty Hunter
DM: In the months you've spent wandering the ways and means of the world, you've never seen a hobgoblin farming. And yet, here he is, digging up this field with a pickaxe. You cannot help but approach him and inquire.
As you get close, you see he's clearly not farming. He's dug a wide trench across this field, with no apparent purpose.
You: Uh. Hey there. Whatcha doin'?
Hobgoblin: I'm destroying your world.
DM: You draw your weapon, taking an aggressive tone.
You: What? What've you got there, a weapon hidden down there? A demon buried? A magical relic? Come on, now!
Hob: I'm cutting the world in half. Go away.
DM: He's waist deep in a long trench. It is not inconceivable that in a few millennia, he could do some harm to the planet, assuming he could get through the bedrock and survive the heat and pressure, while managing to find food and water.
It doesn't seem likely. What you appear to have here is an insane hobgoblin with a pickaxe, digging forever on some chaotic quest.
You: Oh. Well. You know, there are these new black powder weapons that might help with that . . .
Hob: Do you know how expensive those are? Do I look like some wealthy ogre mage to you? Go away!
You: Uh, alright. Good luck with that.
DM: You leave him to his senseless task. As you go on your way, you can't help but feel that this isn't the last time you'll meet this insane humanoid. Perhaps on the other side of the world, when he's nearly done digging the planet in half . . .
As you get close, you see he's clearly not farming. He's dug a wide trench across this field, with no apparent purpose.
You: Uh. Hey there. Whatcha doin'?
Hobgoblin: I'm destroying your world.
DM: You draw your weapon, taking an aggressive tone.
You: What? What've you got there, a weapon hidden down there? A demon buried? A magical relic? Come on, now!
Hob: I'm cutting the world in half. Go away.
DM: He's waist deep in a long trench. It is not inconceivable that in a few millennia, he could do some harm to the planet, assuming he could get through the bedrock and survive the heat and pressure, while managing to find food and water.
It doesn't seem likely. What you appear to have here is an insane hobgoblin with a pickaxe, digging forever on some chaotic quest.
You: Oh. Well. You know, there are these new black powder weapons that might help with that . . .
Hob: Do you know how expensive those are? Do I look like some wealthy ogre mage to you? Go away!
You: Uh, alright. Good luck with that.
DM: You leave him to his senseless task. As you go on your way, you can't help but feel that this isn't the last time you'll meet this insane humanoid. Perhaps on the other side of the world, when he's nearly done digging the planet in half . . .
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Thank you. I strive to be unintelligible and bring unfiltered anarchy to the people.
If I knew anything about your character type, I . . . well, this little snippet wouldn't have been the same then, yes? It's based on the ridiculous games I used to run on my time in Myspace or Yahoo, wherein the rules were LESS than guidelines. Thus the order of what happens, or doesn't, is up for grabs by any participant. And there was only one participant.