Thread by @DropTheDie

#dnd story time

Once I was playing a Fighter named Braxus von Uldrick, a Rashemi human who worked as a mercenary and father of three young boys, one of which traveled with him as a squire.

By level 14, we were trying to stop the avatar of a long-dead elder god named Toloph.

We fought our way through cultists and ogres, trolls and orcs, chasing after this crazed warlord who craved might and power more than anything and drove those around him through sheer fucking force of will. Like a cross between a paladin and warlock, he was a powerful leader.

We finally cornered him atop a mountain at the ruins of a temple to Toloph. We were already pretty battered from fighting his flunkies, but it was a "kill him now or Toloph will breathe once again" situation.

There was no talking to him, he was already yoked out of his mind-

Toloph promised strength and everlasting life, brutality and skill, the power to subjugate, all the good gravy this warlord dreamed of.

Braxus, as with most of my characters, rushed in, and the fight started in earnest.

The wizard took way more than half his hit points in damage from a thrown battle axe, and the ranger very nearly died from a bolt of lightning. Braxus hit this dude for like 81 damage in the first round and he healed back up to "look okay."

Our Paladin used all their lay on hands to get the ranger back up and the BOTH of them went down to another chain lightning, the wizard had single-digit HP, and Braxus had tanked enough damage to kill a dragon that day. After that crazy first round, he was running on empty.

The sun was crossing over into an eclipse and the DM had that half-sad half-bloodthirsty look in their eyes.

Braxus, a dude with an axe, didn't have many options left, so... I did the only thing that came to mind.

"Okay - I'm going to try and grapple him," I said, carefully, "so that he can't cast so many spells." A lie.

The DM, sometimes adversarial, grimaced, and said "Roll it."

I rolled a 27, the warlord rolled a 26.

DM: "He can still cast spells though, so..."

"Yeah, i know. I move him half my speed and -" I turn to look at the people at the table, "drag him over the side of the cliff with me. You said it was 5,000 feet to the bottom."

The whole table had that "b-what?!" look on their face, DM included.

A few seconds pass, and I tap my finger the 3 spaces to the cliff edge. "15 feet."

DM: "Oh, you can only move half your speed, so you barely get there."

"My speed is 40, from my boots."

Y'all, I was trying my absolute best to sound calm and understanding, supportive -

I know what it's like to be a DM in this kind of hot seat, make or break campaign level stuff. So I just said it all so flatly and evenly. He needed a second to think. So i said (approx.)

"As I'm pulling him, I see [wizard] and [ranger] alive, but smoking on the ground. I see-

[paladin] casting their spell to try and keep the two of them up and in the fight. I see my own son, hiding in the rubble of the temple. There is nothing more in my power I can do but this ONE thing. All these years training this body, these muscles, to keep THEM SAFE. I try."

The DM wrinkled his nose, read through the stat block one more time, and flicked the two miniatures off the side of the cliff.

When the warlord went 500 feet from the temple, the spell stopped. 4,500 feet later, we hit stone.

Official D&D 5e rules (pg 183 PHB) state "1d6 bludgeoning damage for every 10 feet it fell, to a maximum of 20d6." BUUUUUUUT, our Paladin got dropped by a wyvern THAT SESSION and took 30d6 (nearly killed him).

So when the DM said "I don't have 20d6-" the paladin said "NAY!"

Always thematic and hilarious, our paladin player cackled with joy REMINDING the DM "FOR THOU DID'ST DESTROY MY BUTTHOLE with 30d6 earlier from a THREE HUNDRED foot drop!"

The DM grimaced again, chewing on his beard.

"20d6 is fine with me," I said. Again - i know the feeling.

To our DM's credit, he relented.

We certainly didn't have 150d6 to roll (terminal velocity, I suggested when '500d6' was brought up, is reached at 1500 feet).

481. I remember the number, to this day. 481 damage when we hit the bottom.

It was the best move our DM had ever made, at that moment. And I think it was because we had impressed him in what he believed to be an unwinnable fight. I doubt he even expected us to make it to the TEMPLE, let alone kill the warlord: he let me describe the fall -

where I talked about straining with every fiber of muscle in my arms, my legs. About the warlord hammering his helm into my face, about the-

The DM raised his hand and I knew EXACTLY what he was doing... We had hit the bottom in the middle of my description.

The very next scene was One year later.

It was the best and most thematic transition I had ever been a part of. The whole campaign was combative and frustrating - a lot of DM fiat and mind control and skewed rolls. But that ONE MOMENT made up for all of it in our minds.

Our players and our DM completely changed after that. We didn't /win a fight/. We, collectively, as a table, had TOLD A STORY.

It was unexpected, hard, there were clenched fists, but it was a watershed moment.

Work with the DM, work with the players, and you'll have one too.

If you like this, I have one other storytime post you may enjoy - it was... quite popular:

https://twitter.com/DropTheDie/status/1210482288200306688