Saturday's 3.5 DnD game started off with a big ole tavern brawl.
So we've been playing Dungeons and Dragons for...ever. I've sat at the table with no less than three guys of our current group on a regular basis since high school (going on nineteen years now). Everyone else I've known just about as long, and have gamed with them in one form or fashion almost as long, just not on the "regular" part. We don't have all the time in the world, but we still manage to get in a game a month and we're currently hammering through the Forgotten Realms Weave-Tearing trilogy.
It's not a bar fight unless the Dwarf Barbarian starts swinging a chair...
The Moon Elf Rogue shows off his amazing tumbleness.
No one expects the Ratinator! Although, we never really fought this guy anyway.
Squaring off against a Beholder in the Underdark.
Zap!
Well, I've already told you all about my character, a major geek faux pas I know. Since you've studied him I'm sure, you'll note those two little six level spells lurking down there at the bottom of his spell list. There's some cool stuff at six level, including the 22d6 damage spell called Disintegrate. Fun stuff, and I was eager to tag the giant floating eyeball of anti-magic death aberration arrayed against us.
Alor 'SPLODES!
Ahh, the ironies in life. Well, Beholders are pretty nasty, and we are an eleventh level party, so it's not like he was serving up cupcakes. Well, the round after I cast Disintegrate, it did the same back at me, to a little bit more devastating effect than I had hoped for, heh. So my character that I've invested a couple of years in 'crafting' died a quick and painless death, but died nonetheless. This vexes me, I'm terribly vexed.
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