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An All Barbarian Party Amazingly Derails A Campaign
Hi everyone.
All Things DnD is back with another story.
Oops all barbarians!
Who needs a variety of classes when you can just beat everything to death?
Tell us about your out of the norm party after listening to this one:
“Okay guys, time to start the game.
What are you guys playing?”
The DM asked.
My friend T cut in and answered first, “I’m playing, Urist, a dwarven barbarian.
He liked booze a little too much and got kicked out of his mountainhome.”
“Okay, sounds good.
How about you?”
The DM asked turning to me.
“Well, uh, I also rolled a barbarian.
He’s a human though.
He’s lived in the shadow of the same mountain his entire life but never knew there were
dwarves there.
That’s how we and Urist met.”
I said.
The other three people at the table awkwardly shared a look with each other.
G finally broke the tension and mumbled, “Well...we all rolled barbarians too.”
The DM looked at all of us, rifled through his notes for the next couple of sessions
and threw away about half of it.
He took deep a breath and said “Let’s do this.”
And so our all barbarian campaign began.
“The five of you are seated across from the Adjudicator of the city.
He gazes balefully at you-”
“I’m sorry, but my character’s INT is 7.
What do those words mean?”
J interrupted.
We all snicker.
“Adjudicator is man who make law.
Balefully is angrily.”
The DM clarified.
“Okay.”
“Shuffling a sheaf of papers between his hands.
Looking at you again balef...angrily, he tells you that there are a number of criminals that
need to be apprehend.
He stands up and hands you the list.”
The DM gives me a handwritten list of names, description, reasons for warrant, and bounty
amounts.
I turn it over in my hands, staring intently at the paper from all angles.
Then I turn to the DM.
“Thragmarr….can’t read.”
The table shared a giggle and the DM sighed.
“Alright.
Who can?”
The DM asked.
G raised his hand.
“My character can.
He has an INT of 12.”
We all looked at him in disbelief.
“It’s true.
His name is Ser Grogg, Esquire.
He’s a nobleman...of sorts.”
The DM buried his face into his hands and we could feel his spirit die just a little.
“I really should have looked over your characters beforehand, but alright.
Continue.”
G proceeded to read out the list of criminals while we listened.
The group is completely enraptured by his ability to read, which is a foreign concept
to all of our characters.
After a bit of bickering, we decided the first person we are going to track down is a horse
thief who’s set up camp a few leagues outside of the town.
After a long ride to the horse thief’s hideout, during which we praised Ser Grogg for his
astounding ability to read.
We finally got to the cave system he’d been using.
It’s a little cliche I know but the DM is a fan.
We dismounted, took a quick look around and spent a few minutes planning.
We decided that we’re going to try to sneak up to the entrance.
“The thief has a couple of sentries posted.”
The DM warned.
“Okay guys, I have an idea.
Let’s disguise one of us as a tree and sneak up on them.”
M said confidently.
We all agreed that this is a fantastic idea.
“Roll for it.”
The DM said, his tone all but promising that we would be seen.
M rolls a disguise check and we assist him, giving him a plus four to disguise himself
as a tree.
He rolled a thirteen which gave him a total of seventeen on the roll, making it a success.
His roll to sneak however is another story.
He rolled a six which takes a minus two because he’s disguised himself as a freaking tree.
“The sentries notice you.”
“I cast Sleep on them.”
M said.
We all looked at M like he’d gone bananas.
“I got this.
Just listen.”
He then proceeded to tell us how his barbarian pulled out his arcane-carved stick, waved
it around chanting nonsense for a few seconds, pointed it at the two guards shouting, “SLEEP
NOW!”
Both M’s barbarian and the guards are perplexed.
The barbarian is confused because he doesn’t understand why the spell didn’t work, and
the guards are confused because they don’t understand what the hell is happening.
So M’s barbarian does the only thing a barbarian would possibly do in that situation.
Get frustrated and bash them over the head with his “wizard staff” knocking them
out cold.
We all loved this turn of events and even the DM cracked a grin at the creative roleplaying.
We decided that there’s no reason for us to even attempt to sneak around inside the
hideout so instead we opted to break down the door.
We cleaved and bashed our way through plenty of baddies.
Eventually we reached the chamber of the horse thief.
“His chambers are draped in all sorts of cloth and chains.
Arcane symbols are scrawled all over the walls.
There are books everywhere.
Sitting atop a tall pedestal is a skull with a pentagram carved into its forehead.
It glares down at you with a malevolent air.”
The DM said in a pretty creepy voice.
He then read off a long and impressive speech by the “horse thief” about the imminent
end of all things, doom, and other grim stuff.
After patiently waiting it out, we initiated combat.
We quickly killed the fragile NPC and hacked off his head and thumbs.
“Alright, let’s get out of here.”
T said.
“But don’t you want to look around some more?”
The DM asked.
“We already got everything of value out of this place, let’s just take off.”
G answered.
“But what about his books?”
“Dude, we’re barbarians.
What the hell are we going to do with books?”
I asked.
The DM huffed a bit but couldn’t really do anything to stop us since he abhors railroading.
So we strike back towards the town, severed head and thumbs bounced merrily in a sack
hanging off the side of my horse.
Over the course of the game, which unfortunately only lasted about two dozen or so sessions
due to college getting in the way and respective jobs limiting our time, we collected each
of these outlaws.
And just like the first, each subsequent outlaw had a pretty similar setup going on.
A seemingly mundane criminal in possession of a great deal of magical items.
And each time without fail our simple minds would miss out on the connection or get distracted
by shiny things and other macguffins.
We completely failed to notify anyone of import about what was going on in these lairs.
But, I have to tell you it was a hell of a ride.
The dwarf was tossed on multiple occasions and in one instance ended up inside the guts
of a giant.
He proceeded to hack his way up through the body, cut the heart out of it and burst out
of the giant’s chest screeching then took a tremendous bite out of the still-beating
organ.
We were a bit more afraid of him after that.
Probably my finest moment in combat rolling happened during this campaign.
We were fighting a group of greater barghests and I had just been disarmed.
Not about to lay down and let these things eat my face I rolled a nineteen on a strength
check to grab the nearest one by the tail and swing it about.
I used my makeshift barghest flail to bludgeon the other barghests into the negatives.
I wasn’t content with just that though.
There was still one standing.
I rolled a nat twenty and threw the barghest THROUGH the other barghest.
But I digress.
Despite our best efforts to continue meeting, the time finally came when our boisterous
group of brawny barbarians was to disband.
We’d proven our worth a hundred times over to the townspeople so they were awarding each
of us with a small parcel of land and a good deal of gold.
Ser Grogg would finally be a real lord with real peasants and real holdings.
Urist Meadbeard the dwarf could have his very own genuine dwarven tavern to destroy every
night in a drunken rage and rebuild it in the morning.
Thragmarr was not content to settle down so he planned to sell the land and get an even
bigger axe with the money.
Then he would set off to find the legendary plane of Ysgard where he could fight, drink,
and wench for all of eternity.
He eventually got there but that’s a story for another time.
Rolf became the most famous muscle wizard in the land and planned to use his gold, land,
and influence to start a school for his unique brand of magic.
But fate, the DM, and our good friend J had other plans.
The DM’s grin was absolutely malicious as he sat behind his screen and described the
calamity that befell us as we were awarded our holdings.
It was as if he’d finally found a way to get back at us for derailing his campaign
so completely, so spectacularly, that there was no way in hell he was going to finish
it the way he’d planned to.
So he decided to try and do the next best thing.
Kill all of our characters.
What it boiled down to was this.
Each of the outlaws had been a part of the same malevolent cult seeking to resurrect
a forgotten beast which slumbered beneath the town.
Its name had been lost to the ages but pictures had survived.
So some bright bulb wanted to see this thing firsthand.
Fortunately for us the cultists had mucked up their spells without being able to figure
out how to get the spell to activate.
Unfortunately for us, behind our back J and the DM had conspired to make J the final piece
of the puzzle which would awaken the slumbering monster and, hopefully, kill us all.
“As you stand on the stage with cheering throngs of townspeople all around you, you’re
suddenly jostled out of the way.”
The DM said.
“I shove the party aside and toss the mayor away from the podium.”
J said then spoke in character, “Fools!
You come here on this day for celebration.But I am here to tell you that this day heralds
your doom!”
“With those words, I draw my longsword and plunge it through my own heart falling off
the stage onto the ground below.”
“The ground quakes and begins falling apart.
The bone chilling sound of gnashing of teeth rises up from the cracking earth.
Two hundred yards away an entire section of the town disappears as something massive shifts
beneath the ground.
Moments later from the bowels of the earth, the Unnamed One rises.
It’s many tentacles whip about its head in a bloody frenzy as its eons long slumber
finally ends.
The townspeople scream and panic, running in every direction in their primal fear.
Women and children scream and cry.
The old and weak are trampled underfoot.
Men go mad at the sight of such a monstrosity.
It opens its seven gaping maws, lets loose a mighty roar, and beings charging toward
you.”
The DM finished dramatically.
“Roll for initiative.”
We all roll reasonably well.
I get a sixteen, M gets a fifteen, G gets a nineteen and T rolls a thirteen.
Unfortunately the DM knew we’d do fairly well on our initiatives so to counteract the
penalty to initiative that Massive creatures take, he stacked improved initiative on the
monster.
So needless to say, it went first.
Luckily he gave us this round to prepare.
It would take at least two turns for the beast to get over to our location.
We grouped up in a quick huddle, made our plan and stood our ground against the charge.
Have you ever imagined what it would be like to be beset upon by a kraken when you’re
armed only with a greatsword of magic power and dubious origin?
How about if that kraken was on land, could cast several level three spells as abilities,
without requiring either materials or somatic components and did 3d10+35 damage per swing?
That’s what it was like fighting this monster.
I tell you, if we hadn’t plundered an amazing amount of gold from each of the hideouts we
wouldn’t have stood a chance.
As it was, we were getting pummeled and we needed to end it fast.
T passed me a note.
I looked at him and solemnly nodded my head.
“It's your turn.”
The DM said to me.
“I turn to Urist who grabs my forearm as I grab his.”
I said.
“I just want ye to know, ‘twas the greatest honor I ever knew fightin’ alongsid ye,”
Urist said roughly.
“I feel tears well up in my eyes and I see them welling up in Urist’s too.
I hand him my Portable Hole and he takes out his Bag of Holding.”
“Now toss me you sodding moron.
One last time.”
Urist growled.
The DM looked stunned.
“Roll...strength.”
I rolled.
I wish I could say it was a natural twenty because by Kord, Urist deserved it.
But it wasn’t.
It was a nineteen.
With my strength modifier and the feat from Complete Warrior that lets you toss things
better, the total was thirty one.
“I spin Urist around, tears streaming down my face into my beard as I do so and I toss
him into the gaping maw of the Unnamed One.”
“T, the round passes to you.
You take twenty three points of crushing damage and forty seven points of acid damage which
brings you to three HP.”
“I put the Portable Hole in the bag of holding.”
T said.
The DM looked at us, then at his notes, then leaned back in his chair.
“A portal opens up sucking you and the Unnamed One into the Astral Plane.”
We all miraculously passed our strength checks to avoid being sucked through.
Everyone was quiet for a few minutes after that.
The DM looked as if he was cycling between pure fury and helpless adoration at the defeat
of his BBEG.
J just looked sullen.
He wanted us to die with him, not defeat the monster in such an epic way.
The town built a statue to memorialize Urist for his sacrifice.
To this day, the town and the other party members like to think he’s on some better
plane.
One with lots of booze and fighting.
I know better though, because as it turned out he was.
But like I said before.
That’s a story for another day.
We hope to see you again Urist.
We salute you.
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