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How A Fat Drunken Monk Beat The Demon Lord
Hi everyone.
All Things DnD is back with another story.
Never underestimate the power of a monk and his ability to brew the finest of booze.
So fill up a cup and listen to this fantastic story and make sure you tell us about your
unique characters after listening to this:
The party is all min-maxed to hell in preparation for what will surely be a terrifying campaign
not a fan of going ham so I go healer.
Since the party definitely has damage covered that leaves me open to try something different.
The rest of the party consists of a Fighter, a Sorcerer, a Rogue, and a Gunslinger, all
they know is combat and work.
I decided the party needed someone to help mellow it out and keep them in check with
reality, to remind them what they are fighting for.
Enter Father Nicoloso Abbatangelo, Cleric of Cayden Cailean (The Accidental/Drunken
God) who dabbles in Alchemy on the side.
Pretty much your typical medieval monk, brews beer and wine, studies alchemy, friendly to
everyone.
One of those generic priests that are always at the villages that you stop by for heals,
just going about their day helping everyone and doing charity work.
He’s a big portly happy old man who just wanted everyone to be safe and have a good
time.
As one player put it "it's like Friar Tuck and Uncle Iroh adopted a kid and replaced
all the tea with beer".
Nicoloso was an Abbot as his name would suggest, lived peacefully in a town that the party
had stopped by.
Their healer had died and they needed anyone who would help, naturally the large father
agreed to tag along.
His name is a mouthful so they just call him Abbot, though the Gunslinger insisted on calling
him Saint Nick since his usual half-drunken state made his nose red, he constantly gifted
the slinger with more powder and fancy bullets, and he was definitely fat enough to play the
part.
So the party sets off with their new healer in tow, as well as his rather large wagon
full of supplies and tools
A quick mention about Abbot's wagon.
Being a common man he did not live out of a backpack like the rest of the party, he
was reasonable and he had a wagon full of food and tools and various other things.
However when I say full I mean full, this was a fricken conestoga wagon which was designed
to carry 6 tons of freight.
He had an alchemy table, oven, hammer and anvil, forge, grindstone, spare robes and
clothes for EVERYONE, half a ton of food and water, another half a ton of beer wine and
whiskey, spinning wheel, spare wheels, butter churn, full distillery, more alchemical components
than you could shake a 10 foot pole at, and pretty much everything else the party could
ever practically or impractically need.
He even brought a pair of cows named Sasha and Maxima to walk behind it while the bulls
Brachev and Vitaly pulled.
Naturally the party started to throw an absolute fit when they realized their travel speed
would slow down to a blindingly fast 10 miles a day.
Then the rogue realized that the wagon could still carry 4 more tons of crap and just about
creamed herself when she thought of all the loot she could hide in it.
The gunslinger was too busy preparing to enact all his wildest western fantasies on it to
give a hoot about speed.
The fighter and sorcerer were still a little iffy but they got over it when Abbot put up
hammocks so they could rest without even stopping.
Eventually after a one sided vote they let him keep it and they set off to their great
adventure
Traveling turns into a twisted Oregon Trail from hell.
Have cured dysentery no fewer than 5 times.
Had to bury a hireling.
"Here lies RICK, "He got the shits" " Owlbears when we go hunting or leave the trail.
Raids from tribes of goblins and orcs.
Quickly learned that Abbot was most definitely not optimized for battle.
An overweight monk who refused to wear armor and was definitely not fit for combat of any
type whatsoever.
HOWEVER he was a godsend when it came to supporting, especially after the Gunslinger gave him a
blunderbuss.
Everyone was well rested, had more than enough healing, had alchemy vials and treated weapons.
Every now and again would see the wonder of a bomb being lobbed through the air by the
impromptu grenade launcher.
While he didn't do a lot of damage by himself he made sure the party's lives were significantly
easier and that their loot was always safe.
Mostly because he stayed with the wagon to hide and heal/create as needed.
As such the wagon became a bit of a priority for the party and most of the tactics revolved
around staying near it or keeping the enemy away from it.
On one occasion in particular an Orc got past the party and made a dash for the wagon, the
Gunslinger fumbling a last minute shot as it jumped in.
Abbot was in the middle of getting an Alchemist's Fire bomb ready when his unexpected guest
entered and his blunderbuss was out of reach.
Seeing no other option he grabbed the vial, grabbed another of kerosene, drained them
both directly into his mouth.
One passed constitution check later the orc had a very bad time.
The portly priest followed his flaming intruder out of the wagon, giving his best battle cry
as flames shot everywhere, which caused the remaining orcs to decide that perhaps they
should be somewhere else.
The rest of the party turned and stared in awe.
Abbot burped as a puff of smoke left his nostrils, politely covered his mouth and apologized,
then went back into his wagon.
A few weeks later the party is in a city going after a lord doing some very unsavory things
with the other planes.
He knows we are coming, but we need to get into the keep and no way in hell is the party
is gonna sneak in there.
They need someone unsuspecting who blends in.
The party (and table) slowly turn and look at Abbot (and me).
Welp.
Don't even need a disguise, just waddles his fat ass right into the keep.
He talks with all the other priests, takes a visit to the king's wine cellar to make
sure everything is as high quality as his god would like.
Asked to sample some old brands just to make sure they are still good and aren't poisoned
since divine protection and all that.
Christmas came early Proceeds to get his wine snob on.
He goes through the entire damn cellar marking which ones are crap, which ones are good enough,
even identifies a few poisoned ones.
Throws out over half the wine in the cellar, so much it's turning the streams red.
The lord hears about this and demands to meet this priest.
Abbot is dragged out of the cellars to the throne room to meet the lord.
By the time Abbot gets to the inner keep he is absolutely sloshed, his blood alcohol content
is so damn high a Vampire would consider him a hard liquor.
Barely able to stand by the time he meets the lord.
Time to talk with him, the extremely honest and nice monk is hammered and needs to stay
undercover.
Gods help me.
Proceed to knock over a dozen charisma checks out of the park.
Rich idiot gets a kick out of it, tells his guards "that there is a man who's dedicated
to his work" Instantly promoted to cellar keeper.
Demands Abbot start a new brand to help with his income.
Develop a new wine only using water that is Holy Water and blessed grapes.
Name the brand Drunken Monk.
Celebrate with more wine.
The party now has a man on the inside.
They can't poison the lord, that would blow Abbot's cover.
Can't assassinate him or charge in, too many guards and the guy is paranoid.
The party is out of ideas.
But Abbot has a plan.
We're gonna help him do his planar stuff.
The Party is skeptical.
But Abbot convinces them to roll with it.
Charisma.
The party has no idea what the plan is but they trust Saint Nick.
Start running secret missions for the lord.
Abbot keeps bringing him wine and thwarting assassination attempts.
The lord loves this fat bastard.
Weeks pass, the Lord has everything ready, he's going to bind himself with a demon in
exchange for power and immortality.
He throws a party with all his advisors and friends, of course the abbot is there supplying
drinks and having a good time.
He makes sure to give the lord PLENTY of wine.
The ritual starts, the party all looks at Abbot for the dramatic interference and grand
master plan.
Abbot doesn't even leave his seat, just sits and watches.
The party waits, the demonic circle starts glowing.
Abbot just sips his wine.
The party panics and goes into action mode.
They start fighting their way through underlings and minions as the lord starts to transform.
Abbot just throws out enough heals to keep them alive, no buffs or alchemy.
He doesn't seem bothered in the slightest.
The lord floats up into the air, burst of red light, then drops to the ground.
Big ol' demon wings and horns.
The party is losing their crap.
The demon lord stands and gets ready to tear them apart.
Then he starts screaming.
The demon lord falls to the ground, vomiting profusely and yelling.
Abbot is still calmly sitting in his chair.
The fighting stops as everyone stares at the demon lord dying on the floor.
His body breaks down and starts burning.
Nobody knows what is going on.
The party turns and stares at Saint Nick.
Before the transformation he gave the lord three whole bottles of Drunken Monk.
Once he became a demon he counted as an Evil Outsider.
The demon had drunk three whole bottles of distilled holy water and blessed grapes.
Father Nicoloso Abbatangelo grinned and looked back at the party as he took a sip
"He never did appreciate Good wine."
Cheers to the good guys!
What an awesome character.
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