How do you know a dwarf raided your pantry?
Only the bottom halves of the shelves are empty.
How do you know an elf raided your pantry?
Only vegetables and fruits are missing.
How do you know an ogre raided your pantry?
Pantry? What pantry?
How was the first copper wire made?
2 dwarves picked up a copper piece at the same time.
What sound does a dwarven god make falling down the stairs?
CLANGEDDIN clandeddin CLANGEDDIN clandeddin CLANGEDDIN clandeddin
A TR,GWF are party questing... TR is 60 and GWF is 34...GWf says can you stop killing small mobs, but help with Mini mini boss mobs...TR says "SO MINI MINI MINI MOBS ARE A NO NO?" GWF says "Yes correct" TR says " I DID A NO NO......I DIIID A NOOO NOOO...... ARRARARARAGAGAGGAGAGG ...... ok Fine Ill stop killing mini mini mini mobs and kill mini mini boss mobs" .....*TR KILLS MINI MINI MINI MOb" GWF SAYS" YOU LIE" TR SAYS " MY NAME HAS TRICKSTER IN IT....DID I LIE?....DID I..." GWF FACE = -___-
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camclemonsMember, Neverwinter Beta Users, Neverwinter Hero UsersPosts: 6Arc User
edited May 2013
Why was dinner ruined when the Wizard carved the turkey?
A human rogue and dwarf each spot a Hulk guarding a chest. The rogue suggests stabbing it in the back. The human wants to lure it into a spike pit the dwarf runs and head butts the hulk to death yelling YOU LADIES HAVE FUN DECIDING!!THIS CHEST IS MINE!
A dwarf walks into the Fallen Tower Tavern and looks at the tavern wench and yells ding! She kindly gives congratulations and the dwarf points out that he is level 60. At this the young wench says well you know what happens in Neverwinter stays in Neverwinter. At this the dwarf says yes that would be true if we lived in a Perfect World.
Well, here is my joke. It's a bit long, but please bear with it. I believe it's worth it in the end.
***
A Human Cleric and a Half-Orc Fighter walk up to an inn. It had been a long day traveling, and the two just wanted a nice drink and a warm bed.
However, upon entering the establishment, their ears are assaulted by a raucous voice. A rather noble-looking drunkard waves his ale in the air, telling crude, disparaging jokes and tales about Orcs and Half-Orcs. The Cleric, remembering her companion’s strong temper, glances at her friend. The Half-Orc’s face shows weariness, but doesn’t seem to show any anger.
“Do you want to leave?” The Cleric asks. Just then the man shouts.
“I mean really, an Orcish fellow couldn’t even pick his own horse from a pack of mules if it spoke to him!” He says, accompanied by the roars and hollers of his equally intoxicated listeners.
The Cleric cringes, but the Half-Orc just grunts and nods at the bar.
“Just order me an ale; I’ll be right back.” He says, trudging back out the door.
The Cleric sits and orders their drinks, while the drunkard continues his spiel and his audience continues their laughter. Just as the nobleman finishes his long anecdote about the stupidity of Half-Orcs and begins another, the Cleric’s friend walks back through the door.
Still afraid her brutish friend will begin a brawl, she studies him as he sits, thanks her for the drink, and takes a long swig. He continued to show no signs of hearing the jokes.
“Want to know what the ‘half’ in Half-Orc means?” The drunkard calls out. “It means half a brain!”
A due, said commoner speak once worth. In Elvish Dwarvish pensive Draconish
Heleth, Karvath, Corru. We sing a tale of lothesome deeds, of cowish theft and fontive steeds.
For in the depths of Cottledale lived a Kobold no taller than a cat-o-nine tails. His head was gruff
scaled and hewed, his teeth were sharp, rotten and worn. His eyes bobbled like coddled corn. He'd
dance by day and hum by night, chasing young lasses in white.
When once came a scholar, of Elvish brood, dressed in fine linens and piled with cretonne. The Kobold twirled
his knife all about, hoping to scare the Elf and make his horse swoon. "Graggled barggled biggid foo" he said as he drew the knife across his neck.
The elf sat pondering, cowley and cold, "Griggidy iggidy loo..." The Kobold twiddled and stood a step back, "how do you know of my rivaling tongue, no pink skin has sung."
"A kobold who sits, fearing of me, my horse, and it's bits, would only soon stretch his tongue forgetting the wanderings of some."
"Feh, you and your horse, wouldn't trample me."
"No...know I know what I would do, but you should ask him and see."
The kobold stared back at the Elf so high, turned to the horse, squinted and with a sigh, "You wouldn't trample me...would you horsey?"
With one snuff the horse stood on hind legs and squished the kobold dead.
And that is the story of why Kobolds are afraid of horses.
With horror, the Cleric realizes that perhaps her admittedly slow companion couldn’t actually understand the derogatory jokes. She stares at him for a second before cautiously asking, “Do you know what he’s saying?”
The Half-Orc nods, finishing off his ale. “Let’s get to bed.” He says, standing and asking the innkeeper for two rooms. The Cleric, shaking her head in wonder at her friend’s surprising behavior, goes to her room, deep in thought.
The night passes, and in the morning the two companions meet at a table to order breakfast. The Cleric smiles at her friend.
“You know, I’ve been thinking about last night.” She says over their eggs and ham. “I just want you to know how proud I am of you for taking all that in and not exploding.”
The Half-Orc shrugs and tries to brush off the Cleric’s comments, but she continues. Behind them the nobleman, who had also spent the night, comes out of his room and heads out the door.
“No, really, I am so proud of you!” The Cleric says. “I think this is the start of a new chapter in your life. No more will your temper contro—”
Suddenly the nobleman bursts back into the inn. “Barkeep!” He shouts. “Get me an ale!”
The man crashes at the bar with a mixture of livid anger and woe. “I can’t believe it! Why does everything bad happen to me!? My prized horse’s disappeared! I mean, of all the horses, only my white stallion’s missing! Of all the terrible luck…”
The Half-Orc grins widely as the Cleric’s mouth slowly drops open.
“I picked the right one!”
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crimsonfalconerMember, Neverwinter Beta Users, Neverwinter Hero UsersPosts: 2Arc User
edited May 2013
Q: What did the frog do after crossing the road?
A: Returned to Sergeant Knox.
EDIT: hmmm..this is an edit..i apologize..i used Reply to a Joke/post but i seem to have posted at the end instead of my comment appearing as a reply to the said joke..can't remember which page..in the 30s i think,, anyways..i should ve used 'reply with quote' am guessing..
Reson why am writing this , is i wanted a do over and/or simply delete this..but i cannot..all i can do is EDIT.. so there you go..
Could you please allow us to remove our Response in case of mistakes.. Thank You!
Hunched over a table, a man with an eyepatch was writing furiously.
“BATTLE REPORT 20
On May 20th, 2013, we faced a foe more fearsome than any that Neverwinter had seen. Using neither steel nor wizardry, the enemy manipulated and destabilised the foundations of our society, threatening to destroy not only Neverwinter, but every single being inhabiting the shard. For 14 hours, our fates were left hanging.
We survived. But at great cost.
Till this day, I still do not know the face of this enemy. I can only hope that Neverwinter will be better prepared to face a foe like this should the threat ever return.
- Sergeant Knox”
In the corner of the room an animal stretches before curling up and napping.
That funny moment when some Trickster Rogue uses his duelist's flurry on the adds that were pushed both by Clerics and Control Wizards. Trickster Rogues went down with the adds. That will be the laughing moment for everyone and full of WTF.
One day, Satan was out for a walk through Hell, making sure things were running smoothly. When he got to the Lake of Fire, he saw a halfling sitting by the lake, relaxing in a lawn chair, and not sweating or looking uncomfortable at all. Perplexed, Satan approached the halfling and asked:
"Young halfling, are you not hot or bothered by this heat?" The halfling replied, "Oh no, not at all. I lived in Neverwinter and this weather is just like a typical July day near Mount Hotenow."
Satan thought that this was not a good sign, so he rushed back to his office and turned up the heat in Hell another 100 degrees. Satisfied with himself, he again returned to the Lake of Fire to check on the young halfling.
When he got there, the halfling was showing a few beads of sweat, but that was all. Again Satan asked the Neverwinter native, "Are you hot and uncomfortable yet?"
The young halfling looked up and said, "No, the temperature is just like a hot August day at home. I'm dealing with it just fine."
Satan decided that he had to do something drastic to make this halfling's stay in Hell unpleasant. He went back to his office, turned the heat all the way down, and then turned up the air conditioning. The temperature in Hell quickly dropped well below zero. As he approached the Lake of Fire, he noticed that it was now frozen over. He also saw the young halfling jumping up and down wildly, waving his arms and yelling into the air.
"This looks promising!" thought Satan. Coming closer, he finally made out what the halfling was shouting:
"Loot I can use finally dropped, and I actually won it!"
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woodlanddrakeMember, Neverwinter Beta UsersPosts: 3Arc User
One of my friend's old party members was a Gnome Wizard named Pyerox. They had created an elven city near Myth Drannor during the Phaery war that had a Mythal. Somehow he was able to essentially power down this mythal for a time. So, being a good follower of Garl Glittergold, he comes up with the best prank ever. He gets into the city and begins to change a few things. He takes the statue of Corellon Larethian and changes it into a statue of a triumphant Garl Glittergold standing with a foot on a subdued Corellon Larethian, then turns it into an illusion of the original. He also takes buckets of purple paint and plants them near the trees of the forest. When the mythal comes back up, the statue turns into the Garl Glittergold statue. And then slowly, over time, an entire section of forest begins to turn purple. The elves of that city still despise him to this day. Just thought i'd share that, since i thought it was the best thing i'd ever heard someone do to some elves.
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woodlanddrakeMember, Neverwinter Beta UsersPosts: 3Arc User
edited May 2013
So my friend asked me about Neverwinter and I told him just how great a game it was and I had spent so much time on it; he asked me what level I was and I told him: 15
A Half-Orc walks into a bar, picks it up and throws it at the Elf.
A Halfling tries to walk into the bar, but is too short.
A Dwarf walks into the bar and rubs his head.
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gidrionMember, Neverwinter Beta Users, Neverwinter Guardian UsersPosts: 1Arc User
edited May 2013
One day, in Protector's Enclave, a young scribe was handling a Who's Who in Faerun book for the wizard Gendrax. However, he noticed that at the bottom of many entries for human and elf artists was a "See also..." followed by the name of a gnoll who did landscapes in oils. Since the scribe hated gnolls, he would blot out the name every time he saw it at the bottom of someone else's entry.
One day Gendrax caught him at it and fired him for dereferencing a gnoll painter.
Comments
Only the bottom halves of the shelves are empty.
How do you know an elf raided your pantry?
Only vegetables and fruits are missing.
How do you know an ogre raided your pantry?
Pantry? What pantry?
How was the first copper wire made?
2 dwarves picked up a copper piece at the same time.
What sound does a dwarven god make falling down the stairs?
CLANGEDDIN clandeddin CLANGEDDIN clandeddin CLANGEDDIN clandeddin
He was an Okay-ish Weapon Fighter!
All he had to use was an Ice Knife!
A Human Cleric and a Half-Orc Fighter walk up to an inn. It had been a long day traveling, and the two just wanted a nice drink and a warm bed.
However, upon entering the establishment, their ears are assaulted by a raucous voice. A rather noble-looking drunkard waves his ale in the air, telling crude, disparaging jokes and tales about Orcs and Half-Orcs. The Cleric, remembering her companion’s strong temper, glances at her friend. The Half-Orc’s face shows weariness, but doesn’t seem to show any anger.
“Do you want to leave?” The Cleric asks. Just then the man shouts.
“I mean really, an Orcish fellow couldn’t even pick his own horse from a pack of mules if it spoke to him!” He says, accompanied by the roars and hollers of his equally intoxicated listeners.
The Cleric cringes, but the Half-Orc just grunts and nods at the bar.
“Just order me an ale; I’ll be right back.” He says, trudging back out the door.
The Cleric sits and orders their drinks, while the drunkard continues his spiel and his audience continues their laughter. Just as the nobleman finishes his long anecdote about the stupidity of Half-Orcs and begins another, the Cleric’s friend walks back through the door.
Still afraid her brutish friend will begin a brawl, she studies him as he sits, thanks her for the drink, and takes a long swig. He continued to show no signs of hearing the jokes.
“Want to know what the ‘half’ in Half-Orc means?” The drunkard calls out. “It means half a brain!”
***CONTINUED TWO POSTS BELOW***
A due, said commoner speak once worth. In Elvish Dwarvish pensive Draconish
Heleth, Karvath, Corru. We sing a tale of lothesome deeds, of cowish theft and fontive steeds.
For in the depths of Cottledale lived a Kobold no taller than a cat-o-nine tails. His head was gruff
scaled and hewed, his teeth were sharp, rotten and worn. His eyes bobbled like coddled corn. He'd
dance by day and hum by night, chasing young lasses in white.
When once came a scholar, of Elvish brood, dressed in fine linens and piled with cretonne. The Kobold twirled
his knife all about, hoping to scare the Elf and make his horse swoon. "Graggled barggled biggid foo" he said as he drew the knife across his neck.
The elf sat pondering, cowley and cold, "Griggidy iggidy loo..." The Kobold twiddled and stood a step back, "how do you know of my rivaling tongue, no pink skin has sung."
"A kobold who sits, fearing of me, my horse, and it's bits, would only soon stretch his tongue forgetting the wanderings of some."
"Feh, you and your horse, wouldn't trample me."
"No...know I know what I would do, but you should ask him and see."
The kobold stared back at the Elf so high, turned to the horse, squinted and with a sigh, "You wouldn't trample me...would you horsey?"
With one snuff the horse stood on hind legs and squished the kobold dead.
And that is the story of why Kobolds are afraid of horses.
With horror, the Cleric realizes that perhaps her admittedly slow companion couldn’t actually understand the derogatory jokes. She stares at him for a second before cautiously asking, “Do you know what he’s saying?”
The Half-Orc nods, finishing off his ale. “Let’s get to bed.” He says, standing and asking the innkeeper for two rooms. The Cleric, shaking her head in wonder at her friend’s surprising behavior, goes to her room, deep in thought.
The night passes, and in the morning the two companions meet at a table to order breakfast. The Cleric smiles at her friend.
“You know, I’ve been thinking about last night.” She says over their eggs and ham. “I just want you to know how proud I am of you for taking all that in and not exploding.”
The Half-Orc shrugs and tries to brush off the Cleric’s comments, but she continues. Behind them the nobleman, who had also spent the night, comes out of his room and heads out the door.
“No, really, I am so proud of you!” The Cleric says. “I think this is the start of a new chapter in your life. No more will your temper contro—”
Suddenly the nobleman bursts back into the inn. “Barkeep!” He shouts. “Get me an ale!”
The man crashes at the bar with a mixture of livid anger and woe. “I can’t believe it! Why does everything bad happen to me!? My prized horse’s disappeared! I mean, of all the horses, only my white stallion’s missing! Of all the terrible luck…”
The Half-Orc grins widely as the Cleric’s mouth slowly drops open.
“I picked the right one!”
A: Returned to Sergeant Knox.
Why did the necromancer alchemist get arrested? He was caught making ELF potions. Health. Elf. Get it?
What do you call a dead-raising fiend with a crush? A nec-romancer.
A dwarf walks out of a bar...
What do you call a Tiefling protestor? A Demon-strator.
What's the most lucrative gig an alchemist can have? Making eyedrops for Beholders.
EDIT: hmmm..this is an edit..i apologize..i used Reply to a Joke/post but i seem to have posted at the end instead of my comment appearing as a reply to the said joke..can't remember which page..in the 30s i think,, anyways..i should ve used 'reply with quote' am guessing..
Reson why am writing this , is i wanted a do over and/or simply delete this..but i cannot..all i can do is EDIT.. so there you go..
Could you please allow us to remove our Response in case of mistakes.. Thank You!
Hunched over a table, a man with an eyepatch was writing furiously.
“BATTLE REPORT 20
On May 20th, 2013, we faced a foe more fearsome than any that Neverwinter had seen. Using neither steel nor wizardry, the enemy manipulated and destabilised the foundations of our society, threatening to destroy not only Neverwinter, but every single being inhabiting the shard. For 14 hours, our fates were left hanging.
We survived. But at great cost.
Till this day, I still do not know the face of this enemy. I can only hope that Neverwinter will be better prepared to face a foe like this should the threat ever return.
- Sergeant Knox”
In the corner of the room an animal stretches before curling up and napping.
“Meow.”
A. Three: One Cleric to heal the party, one Wizard to cast spells at him, and one Rogue to think ahead and go around.
I'll be here all week.
-Do you want to come with me to Neverwinter?
-Not a chance, i never-win-there
"Young halfling, are you not hot or bothered by this heat?" The halfling replied, "Oh no, not at all. I lived in Neverwinter and this weather is just like a typical July day near Mount Hotenow."
Satan thought that this was not a good sign, so he rushed back to his office and turned up the heat in Hell another 100 degrees. Satisfied with himself, he again returned to the Lake of Fire to check on the young halfling.
When he got there, the halfling was showing a few beads of sweat, but that was all. Again Satan asked the Neverwinter native, "Are you hot and uncomfortable yet?"
The young halfling looked up and said, "No, the temperature is just like a hot August day at home. I'm dealing with it just fine."
Satan decided that he had to do something drastic to make this halfling's stay in Hell unpleasant. He went back to his office, turned the heat all the way down, and then turned up the air conditioning. The temperature in Hell quickly dropped well below zero. As he approached the Lake of Fire, he noticed that it was now frozen over. He also saw the young halfling jumping up and down wildly, waving his arms and yelling into the air.
"This looks promising!" thought Satan. Coming closer, he finally made out what the halfling was shouting:
"Loot I can use finally dropped, and I actually won it!"
-From one breath.
-Red Dragon, Gorgon?
...
...
-No breath of dwarf...
==============================
-I realized my alignment when I got to launch a "detect evil" and started walking in circles.
===================================
Because Chuck is Ao.
A little Drow-sy!
A Half-Orc walks into a bar, picks it up and throws it at the Elf.
A Halfling tries to walk into the bar, but is too short.
A Dwarf walks into the bar and rubs his head.
One day Gendrax caught him at it and fired him for dereferencing a gnoll painter.