Friendship is Dragons
Updates Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays
Page 555 - Electric Stun Fun
Author Notes:
Newbiespud
12th Feb 2015, 5:00 AM
edit
delete
Notice: Guest comic submissions are still open until this arc is finished! Guidelines here.
(Pop-out)
46 Comments:
I haven't had a whole lot, but in my experience one-on-one fights are always horribly one-sided. Closest thing to an even fight I've played in was a friendly fist fight between my half-orc barbarian and a half-elf fighter in Pathfinder, and that's only because the barbarian didn't rage; barbarian won anyways.
Yup. That was how my halfling druid died in a Kingmaker campaign. Hobbit with a scythe vs. blasty mage doesn't go well.
One thing I remind myself as GM in many games in the past, is that it's not whether or not that particular NPC does well in the fight, it's the story as a whole. I've had PC's ace what I thought would be a tough fight, and I've had them on the ropes for almost ten rounds. It varies. But the story is more important. Even if you wanted a more interesting engagement.
Naturally, the brave sorcerer, upon reuniting with his companions, asked if he'd missed anything while chewing on dead snake.
Fallout Equestria:
After leaving the party a note of where I was heading, my character Doc Wagon traveled out of the town toward an old army recruitment building in search of loot. While exploring the old building, he nearly tripped over a ghoul filly that was hidden under some trash at a desk. It tried to chew Doc's leg off. Doc drew his revolver and took one shot. Crit-- Headshot. Blew the poor thing's head off. Well then! Now that he knew ghouls were about, Doc kept his sidearm close by and went deeper into the building. Then he failed a particularly important Perception check and fell 30 feet down a hole into a deep basement. Landed poorly and injured himself a bit, but the good news was he could still limp around.
Bad news was that a hungry feral ghoul was down there.
It had a high initiative, but Doc managed to barely beat it out on the draw. It charged. Doc lifted his revolver and opened up into it despite his unsteady injured legs.
Hit. Hit. Crit.
That ghoul didn't even cover half the distance before it was lunchmeat. :D So continues the trail of bodies from Doc, the wasteland surgeon.
And he's not even highly skilled with guns! He's just incredibly lucky when it comes to shooting opponents. We joke that he's either cursed or blessed with incredible aim.
After leaving the party a note of where I was heading, my character Doc Wagon traveled out of the town toward an old army recruitment building in search of loot. While exploring the old building, he nearly tripped over a ghoul filly that was hidden under some trash at a desk. It tried to chew Doc's leg off. Doc drew his revolver and took one shot. Crit-- Headshot. Blew the poor thing's head off. Well then! Now that he knew ghouls were about, Doc kept his sidearm close by and went deeper into the building. Then he failed a particularly important Perception check and fell 30 feet down a hole into a deep basement. Landed poorly and injured himself a bit, but the good news was he could still limp around.
Bad news was that a hungry feral ghoul was down there.
It had a high initiative, but Doc managed to barely beat it out on the draw. It charged. Doc lifted his revolver and opened up into it despite his unsteady injured legs.
Hit. Hit. Crit.
That ghoul didn't even cover half the distance before it was lunchmeat. :D So continues the trail of bodies from Doc, the wasteland surgeon.
And he's not even highly skilled with guns! He's just incredibly lucky when it comes to shooting opponents. We joke that he's either cursed or blessed with incredible aim.
We had a broken gunslinger in our party: specifically a pistolero. We were in a dungeon and searching for a demon-king type fella that we had to un-alive. On our way down, we came into this large square room with one opponent in it. It was a half-ogre cavalier, our level or higher, mounted on a gorgon. He made a challenging gesture for a 1v1, and our gunslinger accepted.
Gunslinger steps onto the tiled squared, gets the challenge ability aimed at him, and combat begins. Gunslinger wins initiative, shoots, and crits his first shot on the gorgon. 127 damage. It goes down and pins the half-ogre, who has to spend his turn untangling himself. Gunslinger's second turn, he unloads four shots into the cavalier and turns him into swiss cheese.
Gunslinger steps onto the tiled squared, gets the challenge ability aimed at him, and combat begins. Gunslinger wins initiative, shoots, and crits his first shot on the gorgon. 127 damage. It goes down and pins the half-ogre, who has to spend his turn untangling himself. Gunslinger's second turn, he unloads four shots into the cavalier and turns him into swiss cheese.
So... This happened?
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=anEuw8F8cpE
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=anEuw8F8cpE
127 damage? How did he do that? Pistols are x4 multiply, but even so he had to get 30 odd damage before hand, and for a single feat that's insane!
... Well I suppose he could of used Deadshot... if this is Pathfinder
... Well I suppose he could of used Deadshot... if this is Pathfinder
Trust me. A gunslinger with the right build can pump out that kind of damage with ease.
Well its the 127 a single critical hit which gets me. I know Gunslinger's, especially pistolero's can get ridicious as I've played them a bit myself. But I still can't figure out what the build was.
Wonder what level he was at...
Wonder what level he was at...
My group has a musket Master that gets 120+ damage a round at LEAST.
Gunslingers add their dex to their damage. Point Blank shot, focused aim, a few other feats add to the static damage bonus.
The pistols have a X4 crit, but if you use the Critical hit deck it's possible to actually get greater than X4 damage. Can't remember if we were using them or not. Not to mention, the pistols themselves were both +2, flaming, and the gunslinger had extra damage dice from grit abilities. Combine all of this with a touch attack and you've got a recipe for broken shenanigans.
The pistols have a X4 crit, but if you use the Critical hit deck it's possible to actually get greater than X4 damage. Can't remember if we were using them or not. Not to mention, the pistols themselves were both +2, flaming, and the gunslinger had extra damage dice from grit abilities. Combine all of this with a touch attack and you've got a recipe for broken shenanigans.
Near the end of one of my campaigns, I had put together an orcish barbarian chieftain, who challenged the party to a one-on-one duel. I spent a good 3 hours or so putting him together, ensuring that he was a beast in combat; I anticipated a good fight.
Our cleric agreed to the battle, and so the duel began. Cleric wins initiative, walks up to the orc, and plane shifts him to the negative energy plane. I rolled a 2 on his will save. I was rather distraught, upset even.
Our cleric agreed to the battle, and so the duel began. Cleric wins initiative, walks up to the orc, and plane shifts him to the negative energy plane. I rolled a 2 on his will save. I was rather distraught, upset even.
now that's hilarious. he must have been min-maxed for armor, strength, and health. i can't stop grinning about this, it's so funny!
I had a fight I set up similarly- orc chief I put together would only help the PCs in their MacGuffin quest if one of them beat him in a 1v1 fight to about 50% health (I staged his HP to match whoever challenged him +10%). He chooses the weapon though.
The female paladin answers the challenge and the chief laughs at her for being a "puny elf girl". She doesn't back down as now her honor is being attacked, so the fight begins. For the weapon, chief chooses rock!
He lifts a huge stone and nearly crushes the paladin's head in with it. The paladin picks up a small rock and makes a desperate all-out attack with what amounted to an improvised weapon.
The crit'd. Twice.
Well then... honor defended. And she won. So much for me being clever about that.
The female paladin answers the challenge and the chief laughs at her for being a "puny elf girl". She doesn't back down as now her honor is being attacked, so the fight begins. For the weapon, chief chooses rock!
He lifts a huge stone and nearly crushes the paladin's head in with it. The paladin picks up a small rock and makes a desperate all-out attack with what amounted to an improvised weapon.
The crit'd. Twice.
Well then... honor defended. And she won. So much for me being clever about that.
Suddenly, as the alarm was thrown up, an elite soldier entered the fray, and fought the gnoll. With a two level advantage, the guard brought the gnoll to dangerously low hit points with little difficulty.
As a last desperate act, the gnoll, with some distance, used his high acrobatics to leap at the enemy, and crush his head in with a powerful head jump attack (think Overgrowth). He succeeded in his jump check, and went straight at him... but failed his attack, provoking an attack of opportunity... which the guard failed too.
This lead to a spectacular crash with both samurai and guard in a heap together, and gave the gnoll enough time to get up and withdraw, allowing the small force he came with to pull their bows and fire upon the still downed guard.
Of course, that wasn't the worst 1v1 that game, cause on the inside, the nymph had straight up killed a chained up slave out of sheer paranoia then anything else (guess which was evil, and which was good).
After being eaten alive by a shambling mound, we all decided we needed to have a short rest, if only to make the ringing in Taiyth's head stop (My cleric took a part of whatever damage it took while he was inside and sledgehammers are not soft by any means of the imagination). After the first hour or two of resting, we noticed that we were surrounded by some bullywugs, who seemed content to just watch us lie about the place. Our dragonborn wouldn't have that and hocked a lightning bolt at one of them to scare them off. With that done, we finished our rest and continued on our way.
Of course, this wasn't the end of them, as we shortly found ourselves surrounded by ten bullywugs. They didn't look hostile at first...until the dragonborn insulted them by trying to imitate their language and got them all riled up. Taiyth, however, was in no condition to fight and, with the power of thaumaturgy, he yelled at them to go away. Which they did after wetting themselves. Of course, another hour later they came back with friends.
At this point, the party was just fed up with this and decided to abandon the dragonborn to his fate since it was all his fault that they were angry at them. While I was of the same mind (two versus twenty was obviously suicide), my cleric wasn't going to abandon one of his teammates without trying to peacefully resolve this. So, having discovered that they understood him, he managed to use a mixture of diplomacy and the dragonborn's vast suppy of bear meat to convince them to leave us alone.
All but one.
See, when our dragonborn hocked a lightning bolt into the water, he actually burned the fin of one of the bullywugs who turned out to be their champion. So, in order to regain his honor, he challenged our dragonborn to a fight. At this point, Taiyth stepped back and our dragonborn smiled before accepting the challenge. That smile faded when the bullywug said something to his ax, which caused it to burst into flames, and proceeded to beat my friend's scaly face in.
Thankfully, our dragonborn won with two hitpoints remaining and claimed the ax as his own. Sadly, he can't actually speak the magic words to get it to burst into flames, but it was better than what he had before, so it was still a win as far as he was concerned. The bullywugs took their champion's body away to eat him later, while the rest of us decided to rest up yet again before we attempted to enter the keep that was off in the distance.
I just had one the other night, actually. It wasn't against a boss or a group of thugs or anything. It was against another party member. Possibly the strongest party member. I mentioned a bit about my character a few pages back, and touched on this one a little. (the one that got strangled) But I'll sum a few things up.
The two both work for a mercenary group occasionally referred to as the Hungry Dragon Associates. It's lead by Gen, a drakken who wants to go out and make the world better. Also she likes treasure. A lot.
My character is Buttons, a half-mimic monk. She is normally shy, submissive, and to an extent, cautious. The only reason she is with the mercenary group is she fell in love with Gen ...after trying to eat her.
The other character is Josephine, our group's gunslinger. She is extremely powerful, but often reckless and has a fragile ego. She originally joined group to get enough money to resurrect her sister. (We ended up summoning the god of revelry and her sister was brought back as a pixie.) After getting strangled in my previous story, she was the one that got Buttons to calm down, and they ended up as friends. (Since vowed to help Buttons bring back Gen, because she knew how she felt.)
So, why are they fighting? That is the story.
You see, Josephine wasn't feeling too appreciated. After all, no one ever thanks her for taking out all the enemies she does. And to matters worse, after what would have otherwise been your garden variety fight with demons and zombies in mental institution deep in the woods of the fey and under a literal portal to Hell... (oh, right, the point.) our berserker was still berserking. Buttons tried to hold him but wasn't quite strong enough in human form. So, against orders, Josephine shot him in the leg, to keep him down. This angered Gen, who fired her.
Cut to the next morning, with Josephine packing her things and acting distant, Buttons trying to hold on to their friendship, and a bit of a bonding moment. But, there is still a problem. Buttons feels Gen only fired Josephine because she was reckless and refused to follow orders. Josephine didn't want to follow orders or be anyone's lacky, etc. So Buttons decided it best they settle things with a fight.
Josephine was ungodly confident, and why shouldn't she be? If all of her hits connected, she could literally kill Buttons with four bullets. Still... she shows her friend a bit of mercy and only fires one shot.
Buttons immediately takes the gun, swallows it, and knocks her down.
Josephine still feels cocky, until she realizes she forgot to enchant the gun with called.
What followed was a series of tripping, grappling, and biting that ended with Josephine tied up and ready for a coup de grace. But of course, they were just sparing. Josephine agreed to Buttons' terms and the two walked back to camp, with an agreement to tell the others that it was Josephine who won the exchange. (Save for Josephine's succubus girlfriend who witnessed the whole thing through a mental link and will never let her live it down.)
The two both work for a mercenary group occasionally referred to as the Hungry Dragon Associates. It's lead by Gen, a drakken who wants to go out and make the world better. Also she likes treasure. A lot.
My character is Buttons, a half-mimic monk. She is normally shy, submissive, and to an extent, cautious. The only reason she is with the mercenary group is she fell in love with Gen ...after trying to eat her.
The other character is Josephine, our group's gunslinger. She is extremely powerful, but often reckless and has a fragile ego. She originally joined group to get enough money to resurrect her sister. (We ended up summoning the god of revelry and her sister was brought back as a pixie.) After getting strangled in my previous story, she was the one that got Buttons to calm down, and they ended up as friends. (Since vowed to help Buttons bring back Gen, because she knew how she felt.)
So, why are they fighting? That is the story.
You see, Josephine wasn't feeling too appreciated. After all, no one ever thanks her for taking out all the enemies she does. And to matters worse, after what would have otherwise been your garden variety fight with demons and zombies in mental institution deep in the woods of the fey and under a literal portal to Hell... (oh, right, the point.) our berserker was still berserking. Buttons tried to hold him but wasn't quite strong enough in human form. So, against orders, Josephine shot him in the leg, to keep him down. This angered Gen, who fired her.
Cut to the next morning, with Josephine packing her things and acting distant, Buttons trying to hold on to their friendship, and a bit of a bonding moment. But, there is still a problem. Buttons feels Gen only fired Josephine because she was reckless and refused to follow orders. Josephine didn't want to follow orders or be anyone's lacky, etc. So Buttons decided it best they settle things with a fight.
Josephine was ungodly confident, and why shouldn't she be? If all of her hits connected, she could literally kill Buttons with four bullets. Still... she shows her friend a bit of mercy and only fires one shot.
Buttons immediately takes the gun, swallows it, and knocks her down.
Josephine still feels cocky, until she realizes she forgot to enchant the gun with called.
What followed was a series of tripping, grappling, and biting that ended with Josephine tied up and ready for a coup de grace. But of course, they were just sparing. Josephine agreed to Buttons' terms and the two walked back to camp, with an agreement to tell the others that it was Josephine who won the exchange. (Save for Josephine's succubus girlfriend who witnessed the whole thing through a mental link and will never let her live it down.)
Sorry for my question, I just went back a few pages to get a better understanding of Button's race (horrifying aberration, huh), but how was the gun eaten? I assume it was a type of rifle, and I am guessing that Button's appearance of an aberration had a large mouth, maybe. But... I just can't get my mind around this.
... Even then, how did you get the gun back? I assume you somehow did.
Buttons is half mimic. Most of her body is a treasure chest. If she swallows something, it can easily be retrieved.
As for the type of gun, it was a musket. Guns aren't really common in the setting yet.
As for the type of gun, it was a musket. Guns aren't really common in the setting yet.
Only problem is that Buttons is chicken infested. So there is a colony of chickens farming corn inside of her, and occasionally one gets taken.
Now, this was an excellent weapon. It always had +2 and keen, and, based on the alignment of the wielder, could have anything from vampiric properties to holy avenger. It was a darn good early game weapon. However, it was obsolete by level 10. Two characters wanted it. The rogue, and the npc paladin.
The paladin wanted it because it was a holy relic, the rogue wanted it because he could change it into avery, very short cudgel, make it super thin, and hide it basically anywhere in or on his body. In addition, he found that he can more or less create a lockpick with it by making it a custom shapped shiv.
Both had entirely valid reasons for wanting it, and their conflict could have ended immediately if they had compromised. The rogue could hand it over at the end of the campaign. And his argument for keeping it was "I need it to complete our mission."
Their fight, and the resulting troubles, could have been avoided if cooler heads had intervened.
I've got one that's sorta 1v1. My orc barbarian was in a single-session D&D 3.5 campaign with my sister's ranger. Near the end, we came across a cabin in the woods. My orc decided to peek through the gap beneath the door to see what was inside. Suddenly, a naga (the final boss of the campaign) smashed through said door, right over my crouching orc. Because it went over, it didn't notice him and went straight at my sister's character. This should've given me an advantage, allowing me to hit it by surprise with no immediate risk to myself. However, I kept failing my rolls, causing me to miss repeatedly. It was essentially a 1v1 fight between it and the ranger. She was a much higher level than I was, so it wasn't too bad. By the time I managed to roll high enough to hit the thing, it was already almost dead, so it was too late to make a meaningful contribution.
The fact that he'd been drinking just before the start of the campaign provides a convenient excuse for the improbably high number of bad rolls I had throughout the campaign. In fact, that was the whole premise of the campaign: to pay off his bar tab! The debt was considered forgiven as the naga had just eaten the guy he owed the debt to.
The fact that he'd been drinking just before the start of the campaign provides a convenient excuse for the improbably high number of bad rolls I had throughout the campaign. In fact, that was the whole premise of the campaign: to pay off his bar tab! The debt was considered forgiven as the naga had just eaten the guy he owed the debt to.
Heh, that reminds me of my current campaign. Our party bruiser is a war forged barbarian with a great axe. Of course, to lend some understanding of how our party works we have a tibbit (werecat) throw ninja, a half dragon, a cleric who thinks he's gods gift to justice (and he might well be), and an anthropomorphic duck rogue/ranger who's all about vanquishing potential evil.
To date, the only thing to survive the war forged's amazing damage from all his critical hits and general power has been the tibbit, who was only a target because he was being an actual twit about stealing things from party members. He tried to use slight of hand to steal the axe from the barbarian while he was using it.
After failing to kill the tibbit (he only had 7 hp to begin with) he spent the next hour and a half of the campaign trying to sharpen his axe.
To date, the only thing to survive the war forged's amazing damage from all his critical hits and general power has been the tibbit, who was only a target because he was being an actual twit about stealing things from party members. He tried to use slight of hand to steal the axe from the barbarian while he was using it.
After failing to kill the tibbit (he only had 7 hp to begin with) he spent the next hour and a half of the campaign trying to sharpen his axe.
I've been playing a Synthesist in Pathfinder, which is a variation on Summoner where the summoner turns into his eidolon. So, effectively, when I go into combat I've got twice the hit points of anyone else in the party, an AC and saves 10 points higher, and do 250 damage or so per round if everything hits.
So most fights aren't technically 1 on 1, but they're 'my character tanking everything while everyone else hides and takes pot-shots'. The difference between this and a real 1 on 1 is that when I get stunned, confused, or hit for 120 damage in one round, I have backup.
(and I get stunned all the time because I have horrible luck with saving throws)
So, after a failed teleport I get stuck in a part of the dungeon that should be empty -- we already cleared it. Except that there was this pit full of poisonous-looking smoke that we never went in. We'd dumped several enemies down there and they hadn't come back up. So, that means there's at least a little loot down there, right?
And I've got a high stealth...
Not high enough. The gorgon and I spotted each other at roughly the same time. I won initiative, but I didn't know if there were any other gorgons in the pit or what -- so I withdrew.
Except that I could only withdraw 40 feet, because I had to go up and you gain altitude at half speed. Gorgon 'turn to stone' breath has a range of 60, which meant I had to roll at least a '3' on a d20 to save vs. petrification or I was in serious trouble.
...
Luckily, (a) I'd gotten high enough that my petrified body fell onto the lip of the pit instead of back inside it, and (b) the GM was nice and had the Gorgon give up after I didn't fall back into the pit, instead of breathing again anyway.
Eventually we went back for revenge (with the whole party), and it turned out there were *four* Gorgons in the pit, so if I'd tried to fight I would have been toast. I mean, assuming my luck held.
So most fights aren't technically 1 on 1, but they're 'my character tanking everything while everyone else hides and takes pot-shots'. The difference between this and a real 1 on 1 is that when I get stunned, confused, or hit for 120 damage in one round, I have backup.
(and I get stunned all the time because I have horrible luck with saving throws)
So, after a failed teleport I get stuck in a part of the dungeon that should be empty -- we already cleared it. Except that there was this pit full of poisonous-looking smoke that we never went in. We'd dumped several enemies down there and they hadn't come back up. So, that means there's at least a little loot down there, right?
And I've got a high stealth...
Not high enough. The gorgon and I spotted each other at roughly the same time. I won initiative, but I didn't know if there were any other gorgons in the pit or what -- so I withdrew.
Except that I could only withdraw 40 feet, because I had to go up and you gain altitude at half speed. Gorgon 'turn to stone' breath has a range of 60, which meant I had to roll at least a '3' on a d20 to save vs. petrification or I was in serious trouble.
...
Luckily, (a) I'd gotten high enough that my petrified body fell onto the lip of the pit instead of back inside it, and (b) the GM was nice and had the Gorgon give up after I didn't fall back into the pit, instead of breathing again anyway.
Eventually we went back for revenge (with the whole party), and it turned out there were *four* Gorgons in the pit, so if I'd tried to fight I would have been toast. I mean, assuming my luck held.
This was a while back so I don't remember all the details, but I can think of a one-on-one that was memorable not for the fight itself but for the entrance that triggered it.
In one campaign, one of my housemates at the time had what he called a "gnomeataur" (half-gnome, half-minotaur) berserker. Basically a three-foot-tall minotaur ready to bite your knees off. Whenever someone asked our party, "Is he really a..." the response was "We try not to think about it too much."
He was pretty much what you'd expect: tiny, vicious and always charging into danger, taunting enemies to distract them from beating on other party members with varying degrees of success. ("I taunt him." "You're on an entirely different level of the dungeon." "I taunt him VERY LOUDLY.")
Anyway. Party got briefly split up in rolling hill country - I think the cleric, one of our two mages and the gnomeataur got separated from the rest of us and had to catch up and circumstances were such that we couldn't just sit there and wait for them. I don't remember the exact reason. I think it had to do with the fact that one of the mages had his own secret plot going on (but that's a different and fairly complicated story).
So the rest of our party was ambushed by a knight who was like twice the highest level in the party, who had henchmen and proceeded to kick all of our asses. It didn't help that I'd been rolling terribly and was on the verge of melting my D20 as retribution. (But the DM wouldn't let me use his microwave or lighter, so it survived.)
So we were out of healing, the mage was out cold, the thief was MIA, the knight had broken the paladin's Super Special Weapon and my longsword and I think the dwarven fighter was blinded or something. I was down to maybe ten hit points, rolling really badly, and this black knight was just fine. No sign of the rest of the party - specifically, no cleric.
So the knight laughed at us and demanded to know if any one of us could give him a proper challenge. I said the hell with it, and figured it was time to throw my fighter to the wolves and just try to beat on him with a quarterstaff before he hacked my fighter to death.
But before I could speak up, my housemate, who'd been rolling and passing notes with the GM for a few minutes, spoke up.
"A high-pitched voice in the distance yells, 'I CHALLENGE YOU!'"
(To give you an idea, the high-pitched voice he used sounded a lot like Bubbles from the Powerpuff Girls doing her "HARDCORE" scream.)
And with that, the gnomeataur charged over the hill. The GM had allowed him to hear the fighting and start running to catch up and he'd rolled well enough to not get tripped up by the terrain.
Well, the knight couldn't resist THAT challenge, and decided to hold off in killing the rest of us. We all decided it was the best entrance ever.
Normally, I tend to regret hesitation in scenarios like these, but I'm kind of glad I hesitated long enough for his character to get there.
(As for the fight, well, the gnomeataur lost, but he was at full HP and was able to hold out for long enough that the knight decided that the fight was worth letting us go. Apparently he just wanted a challenge and the GM just wanted to mess with us. As per usual.)
In one campaign, one of my housemates at the time had what he called a "gnomeataur" (half-gnome, half-minotaur) berserker. Basically a three-foot-tall minotaur ready to bite your knees off. Whenever someone asked our party, "Is he really a..." the response was "We try not to think about it too much."
He was pretty much what you'd expect: tiny, vicious and always charging into danger, taunting enemies to distract them from beating on other party members with varying degrees of success. ("I taunt him." "You're on an entirely different level of the dungeon." "I taunt him VERY LOUDLY.")
Anyway. Party got briefly split up in rolling hill country - I think the cleric, one of our two mages and the gnomeataur got separated from the rest of us and had to catch up and circumstances were such that we couldn't just sit there and wait for them. I don't remember the exact reason. I think it had to do with the fact that one of the mages had his own secret plot going on (but that's a different and fairly complicated story).
So the rest of our party was ambushed by a knight who was like twice the highest level in the party, who had henchmen and proceeded to kick all of our asses. It didn't help that I'd been rolling terribly and was on the verge of melting my D20 as retribution. (But the DM wouldn't let me use his microwave or lighter, so it survived.)
So we were out of healing, the mage was out cold, the thief was MIA, the knight had broken the paladin's Super Special Weapon and my longsword and I think the dwarven fighter was blinded or something. I was down to maybe ten hit points, rolling really badly, and this black knight was just fine. No sign of the rest of the party - specifically, no cleric.
So the knight laughed at us and demanded to know if any one of us could give him a proper challenge. I said the hell with it, and figured it was time to throw my fighter to the wolves and just try to beat on him with a quarterstaff before he hacked my fighter to death.
But before I could speak up, my housemate, who'd been rolling and passing notes with the GM for a few minutes, spoke up.
"A high-pitched voice in the distance yells, 'I CHALLENGE YOU!'"
(To give you an idea, the high-pitched voice he used sounded a lot like Bubbles from the Powerpuff Girls doing her "HARDCORE" scream.)
And with that, the gnomeataur charged over the hill. The GM had allowed him to hear the fighting and start running to catch up and he'd rolled well enough to not get tripped up by the terrain.
Well, the knight couldn't resist THAT challenge, and decided to hold off in killing the rest of us. We all decided it was the best entrance ever.
Normally, I tend to regret hesitation in scenarios like these, but I'm kind of glad I hesitated long enough for his character to get there.
(As for the fight, well, the gnomeataur lost, but he was at full HP and was able to hold out for long enough that the knight decided that the fight was worth letting us go. Apparently he just wanted a challenge and the GM just wanted to mess with us. As per usual.)
I have two stories about 1v1 fights.
The first was in a Renaissance-era fantasy campaign I GM'ed, using Savage Worlds rules. Two of my players were from different cultures, and got into an argument over theology. The mercenary scout challenged the knight to a duel (to first blood), and before I knew it they went outside the tavern, a small crowd formed to watch (and place bets), and they had at it.
To my great surprise, the duel lasted 11 turns. Despite the mercenary scout being less armored and skilled at-hand to-hand combat than the knight, he held his own and delivered a few good whacks on his opponent, but his sword couldn't penetrate the knight's armor. The duel finally ended when the knight one-shot KO'ed the scout with his warhammer.
"First blood," indeed!
And that's how the party had one member already heavily injured when pirates attacked the town that night...
~~~~
The other 1v1 story comes from another Savage Worlds rules campaign I ran, "Holy Hellraiders" ("His Holiness Pope Francis I has been kidnapped by demons! Can the Vatican's finest brave the perils of the Inferno itself to rescue the Pontiff?!").
The party made an alliance with a repentant demon Marchosias to fight against Beelzebub, who held the Pope hostage. Yet the party still had nowhere near enough troops to take on the Lord of the Flies, so they needed to gather other allies.
They approached a demon lord Merafawlazes who was friends with Marchosias, but although he hated Beelzebub and regretted betraying the Almighty so many eons ago, he could not bear to fight on the behalf of Man, whom he blamed for their fall from grace (Lucifer and the others had rebelled out of jealousy for humanity). Merafawlazes would not join the fight, unless a human proved to be his better.
Our chainsaw-toting nun interpreted this as a challenge to a duel. She walked up to him, revved up her chainsaw, and spoiled for a fight. Now, Merafawlazes was a demon lord with totally overpowered stats. This was going to be a very one-sided fight. And it was!
Chainsaw nun totally destroyed him. The demon lord was rolling terribly every round, whereas our crazy nun was a holy roller with the dice. Her blessed demon dicer cut into Merafawlazes again and again, and the flabbergasted demon yielded to her.
And thus, the party enlisted another 20 legions of demon infantry to their cause. Merafawlazes slowly warmed up to the party, and once Francis I was rescued and the party was ready to return to the mortal world, chainsaw nun gave him her chainsaw as a parting gift.
The first was in a Renaissance-era fantasy campaign I GM'ed, using Savage Worlds rules. Two of my players were from different cultures, and got into an argument over theology. The mercenary scout challenged the knight to a duel (to first blood), and before I knew it they went outside the tavern, a small crowd formed to watch (and place bets), and they had at it.
To my great surprise, the duel lasted 11 turns. Despite the mercenary scout being less armored and skilled at-hand to-hand combat than the knight, he held his own and delivered a few good whacks on his opponent, but his sword couldn't penetrate the knight's armor. The duel finally ended when the knight one-shot KO'ed the scout with his warhammer.
"First blood," indeed!
And that's how the party had one member already heavily injured when pirates attacked the town that night...
~~~~
The other 1v1 story comes from another Savage Worlds rules campaign I ran, "Holy Hellraiders" ("His Holiness Pope Francis I has been kidnapped by demons! Can the Vatican's finest brave the perils of the Inferno itself to rescue the Pontiff?!").
The party made an alliance with a repentant demon Marchosias to fight against Beelzebub, who held the Pope hostage. Yet the party still had nowhere near enough troops to take on the Lord of the Flies, so they needed to gather other allies.
They approached a demon lord Merafawlazes who was friends with Marchosias, but although he hated Beelzebub and regretted betraying the Almighty so many eons ago, he could not bear to fight on the behalf of Man, whom he blamed for their fall from grace (Lucifer and the others had rebelled out of jealousy for humanity). Merafawlazes would not join the fight, unless a human proved to be his better.
Our chainsaw-toting nun interpreted this as a challenge to a duel. She walked up to him, revved up her chainsaw, and spoiled for a fight. Now, Merafawlazes was a demon lord with totally overpowered stats. This was going to be a very one-sided fight. And it was!
Chainsaw nun totally destroyed him. The demon lord was rolling terribly every round, whereas our crazy nun was a holy roller with the dice. Her blessed demon dicer cut into Merafawlazes again and again, and the flabbergasted demon yielded to her.
And thus, the party enlisted another 20 legions of demon infantry to their cause. Merafawlazes slowly warmed up to the party, and once Francis I was rescued and the party was ready to return to the mortal world, chainsaw nun gave him her chainsaw as a parting gift.
My best One-on-One confrontations weren't combats (at least, not standard-rules contests). Instead, they were contests. Frequently, they occurred as part of some in-game festival (not unlike this one, actually).
The contests were things like foot-races, eating and drinking contests (Half-orc Monk making Fortitude saves--nearly took out the rest of the party trying to keep up with me), and staged combats with special rules (like, say, wrestling contests where you were attempting to push your opponent out of the ring).
While the contests often start out as multi-character events, usually, if you do well, most of the NPCs are winnowed out and it boils down to a PC and the named NPC who is the local champion. How you handle victory or defeat often plays into how you're treated by the locals thereafter.
The contests were things like foot-races, eating and drinking contests (Half-orc Monk making Fortitude saves--nearly took out the rest of the party trying to keep up with me), and staged combats with special rules (like, say, wrestling contests where you were attempting to push your opponent out of the ring).
While the contests often start out as multi-character events, usually, if you do well, most of the NPCs are winnowed out and it boils down to a PC and the named NPC who is the local champion. How you handle victory or defeat often plays into how you're treated by the locals thereafter.
This did not end as a 1v1, but it started that way.
Toward the end of a long campaign, one of the PCs finally had to deal with his mother. You have to understand, this mother didn't just disapprove of her son's adventures, oh no. She had allowed herself to become an avatar of hatred, after her son went forth and saved all those other dirty races, not to mention the planet itself (there was this little problem of an incoming moon), rather than stay home and take the place in society she had worked hard to prepare for him. Worse, he had actually fallen in love with and planned to marry one of those "rabble" (another PC).
Also this mother was an arch-mage. The PC mage's long adventures had merely pushed him up until he was almost but still not quite her equal.
So when he finally came home, things devolved to a duel. Nothing was off the table. She would use her magic: it was all she thought she needed, and it was more formidable than any spells he could summon. He could use anything he wished to attempt to prove his way was more powerful.
He simply smiled and answered with two words, that brought more disgust and horror to his opponent than any actual beatdown possibly could have: "My friends."
This was a 9 PC campaign. This wasn't D&D, but they were all at the end of their respective power trees. Imagine a party of 9 30th-level types, well-balanced to compliment each others' abilities, and you'll get the picture.
They fought. It was not a curbstomp, but in the end the party stood victorious among the cratered and smoking wreckage of the last symbol of the old order. It was a good note to end the campaign on, with a bit of epilogue to explain each PC's further adventures. (Ironically, that mage did indeed serve as one of the new society's arch-mages.)
Toward the end of a long campaign, one of the PCs finally had to deal with his mother. You have to understand, this mother didn't just disapprove of her son's adventures, oh no. She had allowed herself to become an avatar of hatred, after her son went forth and saved all those other dirty races, not to mention the planet itself (there was this little problem of an incoming moon), rather than stay home and take the place in society she had worked hard to prepare for him. Worse, he had actually fallen in love with and planned to marry one of those "rabble" (another PC).
Also this mother was an arch-mage. The PC mage's long adventures had merely pushed him up until he was almost but still not quite her equal.
So when he finally came home, things devolved to a duel. Nothing was off the table. She would use her magic: it was all she thought she needed, and it was more formidable than any spells he could summon. He could use anything he wished to attempt to prove his way was more powerful.
He simply smiled and answered with two words, that brought more disgust and horror to his opponent than any actual beatdown possibly could have: "My friends."
This was a 9 PC campaign. This wasn't D&D, but they were all at the end of their respective power trees. Imagine a party of 9 30th-level types, well-balanced to compliment each others' abilities, and you'll get the picture.
They fought. It was not a curbstomp, but in the end the party stood victorious among the cratered and smoking wreckage of the last symbol of the old order. It was a good note to end the campaign on, with a bit of epilogue to explain each PC's further adventures. (Ironically, that mage did indeed serve as one of the new society's arch-mages.)
Hmmm...
Two stories spring to mind. The most recent one being a Pathfinder campaign a friend DM'ed a while back. If I remember correctly, I was a Changeling Cavalier. Our party (I can't remember who was what, but there were only three of us, all told) had just defeated two (young-ish) blue dragons, and we were negotiating with a nearby tribe of gnolls who worshiped the darn things. Long story short, they challenged us to a duel with their champion, and I accepted (my character had felt useless in the fight with the dragons, and one of our party members was a noble she had pledged her service to, basically trying to regain some semblance of honor/competence here). The gnoll I fought was a Barbarian that was five levels higher than me, didn't rage, and I was a Cavalier whose entire combat prowess lay in being mounted, while fighting this guy hand-to-hand with nothing but my natural claws. I think I lasted two to three rounds. Thankfully my party members stepped in to save my sorry hide.
The second story is one I am not particularly fond of. In a 3.5e D&D campaign a long time ago (two? three years?) I created a dragonborn/tiefling Duskblade who payed homage to the dragon deity of death, Chronepsis. We had just routed a mob of madmen (who laughed every time we hit them with sword OR spell), and were recuperating at the tavern (as per fantasy RPG tradition). The tavern keeper had mentioned that his son had died in the attack. My character responded with "Death comes to us all." Now, he meant this not as an insult, or to lessen the loss of the man's son, simply as a statement of his beliefs, that death is something to be accepted, and to move on in life from there. I did not, however, explain this, either to the man, or my teammates. Mistake numbers 1 and 2. The man, seemingly distraught over my comment, excused himself to the back room. The party's Rogue, thinking that I was being unnecessarily rude/dispassionate/emotionless/cold, sneaked behind me, and attacked me with a bottle, knocking me out. Upon my return to consciousness, I proclaimed that the next person(s) to attack me would get a face full of fire. The man who lost his son was found not long after, apparently having hung himself. The Rogue blamed me for this (though not openly) and attempted to knock me out again. This time he failed his check, I saw him, and proceeded to engage him in combat (after breathing fire on him). Odd thing was, the Rogue's player had not heard or listened when I made my proclamation of fire and faces. My character died in that fight, and I had to roll up a new one. I'm still mildly upset that a fellow player killed my character (who doesn't when it's unexpected?), but I can't fault him for playing his. Sneaky sonuva...
Moral: I'm NEVER going one-on-one against ANYbody unless I'm the last one standing in a hopeless situation.
Two stories spring to mind. The most recent one being a Pathfinder campaign a friend DM'ed a while back. If I remember correctly, I was a Changeling Cavalier. Our party (I can't remember who was what, but there were only three of us, all told) had just defeated two (young-ish) blue dragons, and we were negotiating with a nearby tribe of gnolls who worshiped the darn things. Long story short, they challenged us to a duel with their champion, and I accepted (my character had felt useless in the fight with the dragons, and one of our party members was a noble she had pledged her service to, basically trying to regain some semblance of honor/competence here). The gnoll I fought was a Barbarian that was five levels higher than me, didn't rage, and I was a Cavalier whose entire combat prowess lay in being mounted, while fighting this guy hand-to-hand with nothing but my natural claws. I think I lasted two to three rounds. Thankfully my party members stepped in to save my sorry hide.
The second story is one I am not particularly fond of. In a 3.5e D&D campaign a long time ago (two? three years?) I created a dragonborn/tiefling Duskblade who payed homage to the dragon deity of death, Chronepsis. We had just routed a mob of madmen (who laughed every time we hit them with sword OR spell), and were recuperating at the tavern (as per fantasy RPG tradition). The tavern keeper had mentioned that his son had died in the attack. My character responded with "Death comes to us all." Now, he meant this not as an insult, or to lessen the loss of the man's son, simply as a statement of his beliefs, that death is something to be accepted, and to move on in life from there. I did not, however, explain this, either to the man, or my teammates. Mistake numbers 1 and 2. The man, seemingly distraught over my comment, excused himself to the back room. The party's Rogue, thinking that I was being unnecessarily rude/dispassionate/emotionless/cold, sneaked behind me, and attacked me with a bottle, knocking me out. Upon my return to consciousness, I proclaimed that the next person(s) to attack me would get a face full of fire. The man who lost his son was found not long after, apparently having hung himself. The Rogue blamed me for this (though not openly) and attempted to knock me out again. This time he failed his check, I saw him, and proceeded to engage him in combat (after breathing fire on him). Odd thing was, the Rogue's player had not heard or listened when I made my proclamation of fire and faces. My character died in that fight, and I had to roll up a new one. I'm still mildly upset that a fellow player killed my character (who doesn't when it's unexpected?), but I can't fault him for playing his. Sneaky sonuva...
Moral: I'm NEVER going one-on-one against ANYbody unless I'm the last one standing in a hopeless situation.
Hey everyone. As a longtime reader this comic finally convinced me to make a login, since this is the first story time where I have a relevant story of my own.
This was in Pathfinder Society play. The party had been charged with calling in a favor with a centaur champion from a nearby tribe to represent the Society in a coming tournament. But before she agreed we had to do some favors, including returning her prized lance that had been stolen by bandits.
So we went into the woods looking for the bandit camp. We came to said camp knowing we were being watched by snipers in the trees, but the leader was in a clearing. This is where my character's background comes into play. I was an Ulfen berzerker from the Lands of the Linnorm Kings (think Golarian Vikings), wearing armor made of rhino hide pulled off a cursed elf from space (Doom Comes to Dustspawn anyone?) and welding a greataxe. Obviously this is my cathartic cliche character I play for mindless fun. We knew from the centaur's descriptions that the bandit leader was an Ulfen raider.
So getting back to the story, my Norseman challenges the leader for the lance, calling out to his Ulfen sense of honor. Now this is highly irregular for PFS since it is a paint-by-the-numbers system, but our GM thought it was too good to pass up. So the bandit gets on his Axebeak and we roll for initiative. I won, I raged, I charged. With a surge of strength I overrun both him AND his mount, knocking them prone, with an AOO. Bandit gets up, AOO, mount gets up, AOO, and then they finally get a hit in. Next round I go into an animal fury and eat them both. I turn to the trees and shout "Who else wants to die!" The rest of the bandits go running into the woods, scrambling over each other in their attempt to get away. What could have been a long, drawn-out fight with a band of archers who were no real threat ended in two rounds of glorious 1v1. Praise be to Gorum!
This was in Pathfinder Society play. The party had been charged with calling in a favor with a centaur champion from a nearby tribe to represent the Society in a coming tournament. But before she agreed we had to do some favors, including returning her prized lance that had been stolen by bandits.
So we went into the woods looking for the bandit camp. We came to said camp knowing we were being watched by snipers in the trees, but the leader was in a clearing. This is where my character's background comes into play. I was an Ulfen berzerker from the Lands of the Linnorm Kings (think Golarian Vikings), wearing armor made of rhino hide pulled off a cursed elf from space (Doom Comes to Dustspawn anyone?) and welding a greataxe. Obviously this is my cathartic cliche character I play for mindless fun. We knew from the centaur's descriptions that the bandit leader was an Ulfen raider.
So getting back to the story, my Norseman challenges the leader for the lance, calling out to his Ulfen sense of honor. Now this is highly irregular for PFS since it is a paint-by-the-numbers system, but our GM thought it was too good to pass up. So the bandit gets on his Axebeak and we roll for initiative. I won, I raged, I charged. With a surge of strength I overrun both him AND his mount, knocking them prone, with an AOO. Bandit gets up, AOO, mount gets up, AOO, and then they finally get a hit in. Next round I go into an animal fury and eat them both. I turn to the trees and shout "Who else wants to die!" The rest of the bandits go running into the woods, scrambling over each other in their attempt to get away. What could have been a long, drawn-out fight with a band of archers who were no real threat ended in two rounds of glorious 1v1. Praise be to Gorum!
Thus, Tom was born. (I use Tom as a name to refer to a lot of characters, but this guys name actually was Tom.)
Tom was a rather basic and generic stupid fighter guy. About as subtle, intelligent, and strong as a meteor impact. But he did have one interesting personality quirk. He was absolutely fascinated by magic of any kind. Not in the "Oh this is rather intriguing" way, more like the "Oooh pretty lights" way.
So as a result Tom was best friends with the party mage, even if said mage was not tolerant of stupidity. Tom even gave him the lovable nickname "Magic Man" mostly because he could never actually remember his real name. Tom followed Magic Man around all the time, and constantly asked to see magic tricks. The mage hated Tom for the entire adventure until one encounter.
Hiking through a forest to reach some ancient ruins to do some treasure diving when we come upon a large stone bridge over a massive canyon. Standing upon this bridge was a half-orc with a rather unfriendly air about him. We request passage, he denies. We ask why, he tells us we can pass only if we present someone who can best him in a fight to the death. Our mage quickly chimed in that this was pointless and a waste of everyone's time, and wanted to know why he would want such a stupid thing. The half-orc took offense to this, drew his two handed sword and approached him rather quickly with a few curses. He raised it over his head to end the mage quickly for his crimes against his honor. Tom wasn't having any of that.
He stepped in the way of the blow and raised his shield. He blocked the attack and pushed it to the side (which was a feat in itself considering the dude hit like a falling tree). Tom then looked at the half-orc menacingly and simply stated "You no hurt Magic Man. I fight you."
It was a long fight, over half an hour real time, over 10 in the game world. Even when we landed hits, the damage was minimal. The best part was halfway through the fight we were both smiling and laughing as we were trying to kill each other. The thing that ended the fight was when he hit my shield so hard it sent me flying back a distance, but that distance put Tom at an advantage. Tom didn't have a lot of moves beyond "hit with sword make dead", but he did have one thing. He made an excellent battering ram.
He placed his shield in front of him and sprinted forward at full speed. I ran into the guy so hard, he was visibly lifted into the air and went flying off the cliff behind him.
After that, the party mage was much more tolerant of Tom's actions and proximity.
He got force choked, but luckily was able to draw his gun and shoot the door controls, cutting him off. He then laid a few trip mines the Sith stepped on and ran away.
Once back on the surface, the Sith caught up with him, and with nowhere else to run, Tak was forced to duel against him and his Lightsaber, with TWO DAGGERS.
It was a close fight, and Tak lost a few fingers (Luckily they can regrow back)
But because of the mine damage earlier and some good rolls, Tak skewered the Sith, stole his robes and light saber and his Skull as a trophy, before lighting his body on fire. Tak now has a Sith skull belt buckle.
Barbarian wins initiative, and charges the paladin. Natural 20. Of course, the paladin has ac up the wazoo, so it shouldn't be a problem.... until the barbarian rolled 19 to confirm.
The paladin was promptly sliced in two.
The best part? The paladin didn't blame the barbarian, as he believed he was just a slave fighter. Of course, now he's learned the barbarian likes being a gladiator, especially all the killing that comes with it. (I'm awaiting their next 'epic' conflict)
So it is a unicorn. Now I just have to hope it's a stallion with a blue horn, grey coat. and a twister cutie mark.
In our Jurassic Park campaign, my zebra hunter Raken one on one'd a t-rex and won after two Nat 20s. He only did it because his other teammate was rescuing their wounded party member who has been flung by it. Yeah Raken has been a Badass against things that should kill him.
Plenty. Biggest headache was my monk fighting some kind of orc cleric thing. Jerk blew himself up, nearly killing my character.
I have two, both were in an old campaign a few years back. Both were at a little tourney the local city was having.
One was me, Reolahaii, Level 4 Wizard, follower of Mystra, and the wilder of Spellfire.(Ready an action, able to absorb the next spell flung at you, basic explanation there), vs...I can't remember his name, but was an Apprentice the Elminster, much higher level then me, and huge ego. 1v1 Mage Duel, way out of my class. Spellfire his first spell, a non-lethal chain lightning. I soak it, actually got the apprentice confused...Who just cast Iron wall on me, me failing the reflex save, and having to tap out of the fight.
Second was our Fighter, Andrew Ironfist. Him against the local Sheriff. Andrew's build was the broken charge build. He charged, crit, did x4 damage to the poor level 7 fighter, cutting him right in half(THankfully all fights were being watched by clerics who prevented death). From then on, Andrew Ironfist was called, Sir Twain...Until he converted into a Cleric later on in the campaign...
One was me, Reolahaii, Level 4 Wizard, follower of Mystra, and the wilder of Spellfire.(Ready an action, able to absorb the next spell flung at you, basic explanation there), vs...I can't remember his name, but was an Apprentice the Elminster, much higher level then me, and huge ego. 1v1 Mage Duel, way out of my class. Spellfire his first spell, a non-lethal chain lightning. I soak it, actually got the apprentice confused...Who just cast Iron wall on me, me failing the reflex save, and having to tap out of the fight.
Second was our Fighter, Andrew Ironfist. Him against the local Sheriff. Andrew's build was the broken charge build. He charged, crit, did x4 damage to the poor level 7 fighter, cutting him right in half(THankfully all fights were being watched by clerics who prevented death). From then on, Andrew Ironfist was called, Sir Twain...Until he converted into a Cleric later on in the campaign...
In a 3.0 campaign, the rogue was scouting separate from the rest of the party and came across a gelatinous ooze. Unfortunately, failed Spot & Listen checks meant the rogue WALKED INTO IT. A failed save vs. the paralysis left the rogue to be well and truly digested before the party found her...
The title of the strip reminded me of this:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AKDkvy9sKuY
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AKDkvy9sKuY
My very first Pathfinder campaign in which I joined in a bit later than everyone else had a theme of "Weird Party Syndrome" where everyone plays a race not very common. The DM allowed me to play a Cactacae druid (8 foot tall cactus man found in a Pathfinder magazine) and when we got to a port town everyone was getting supplies and he was left to guard the ship. Suddenly a bad guy disguised as a guard got on our ship to find my character there. The DM informed me I didn't have enough time to pull out my weapon so I ended up supluxing and criting the guy dealing an additional 1d4 damage because of my spikes and knocking him out.