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[c] Dnd 2/2
“For the last time, you’re the DM, not a player!”
Rubes, having been in the midst of an attack roll, released her grip on the dice at a most inopportune moment. A patter followed as it bounced across the tabletop wildly before tumbling off the edge to an unseen oblivion. Before it had even struck the ground, her expression had become one of stubborn, boiling vexation. Brow furrowed, muzzle pouting and arms crossed, the glare she offered would have stopped a rampaging Bulette dead in its tracks.
Her friends were made of finer metal though. Sir Walder’s player, Liam, who had named his character after his cat, did not even flinch as she growled out her reply. His expression matched hers but his body stature was far more evocative as his hand had shot out in an accusatory point: Being roughly the size of Rubes’ finger, they had to be as animated as possible with their bodies. Doing so helped tremendously in communicating feelings and intent with someone that could just as easily flick them across the country.
“I know! I know!” she snapped at him, fingers tapping her elbow. “What’s your point?”
“The point,” continued the unperturbed Liam, “is that you keep breaking immersion and touting yourself up!” He thrust his paper-mâché sword towards Rubes’ stern face. “Stop stealing all the thunder!”
The Dungeon Master’s ears twitched at the accusation.
“What he means,” interrupted Jade, sitting at the edge of the battle-map with a bow fashioned from an unused toothpick, “is that we’re really trying to engage with this world. It’s just hard playing side-characters in your story.”
The rest of the players echoed the sentiment. Rubes looked to each of them in turn.
Stern faced, she tried to convince them she was very serious and very annoyed. Yet each moment softened her expression until all she could do was sigh. Her nostrils flared and the consequential burst of air struck the table and bellowed out to ruffle the hair of her pint-sized players. A character sheet spun slightly as well. Liam, having been standing atop it, fell to his ass.
Rubes snorted. Then she apologized.
“Sorry, sorry!” she said, reaching forwards to pinch the scruff of his coat and pull him back to his feet, her jumper straining against the edge of the tabletop.
“You’re right,” she admitted. “But I think we all have a small share of the blame if you really-”
“Rubes,” Jade grumbled, setting her bow aside and removing the toy coif she wore to cosplay her character.
“Not buying it?”
Silence and disapproving stares was her reply – save for the rustle of Liam’s patchwork armour as he shook his head.
“Then how about just giving me one more chance? I’ve been thinking about this next encounter for a while and I think it will be a real treat!”
So, while it took some convincing, they all begrudgingly agreed on one more hurrah. The tomb cleared, they downed a Potion of Greater Healing each, the rejuvenating liquid a saving grace, and then marched forwards towards the expansive staircase that would lead them straight into the heart of Castle Thronstenell. It would be there that they finally came face-to-face with the monster that had corrupted this once beautiful kingdom: The necromancer.
He sat before them atop an ancient throne. His ghastly visage was one that had defied death a hundred times over through twisted magic. His weathered, canvas of skin was tattooed with arcane seals and glyphs. As the adventuring party assembled in the crumbling chamber, he rose to his feet and spoke in a voice that resembled dust and gravel more than tongue.
“This realm holds no remorse for the lost nor weary,” he wheezed. “Leave. No esteem awaits you but as low-bred slaves for my machinations.”
Plainly visible in the light of his fiercely glowing, green eyes was a gathered force of only a dozen kobolds – though they were outfitted with weapons and armour far superior to the few they had encountered in the corridor. Sir Walder was characteristically undeterred however. He rested his hand upon the hilt of his blade and shouted across the cold stone: “We have no qualm with you or whatever it is you are doing here. Our only task here is to retrieve a weapon.”
Murdan shifted behind the knight, fidgeting with his Holy Symbol and muttering disagreements that the rest of the party ignored.
Lorelii drew back her bow but kept it aimed at the floor. “That’s right,” she agreed. “We seek a staff in your possession. Surrender it to us and we shall leave this place in peace.”
Rubes had both Liam and Jade roll persuasion checks, surprised by their willingness to cut a deal with the wretched creature she had placed before them. She gently lowered the dice into their outstretched arms, each D20 half the size of themselves but fortunately made from a lightweight foam rather than resin.
The Dungeon Master leaned forwards and then finally took a relaxing breath when the rolls settled: A 17 from Liam, bumped up to 22 thanks to his proficiency, and a Nat 1 from Jade.
A villainous laugh bellowed from her as the necromancer gave a dry chuckle. His body shuddered from the exertion and the kobolds guarding him added their own grunts to form a horrendous cacophony. “You amuse me,” he declared. He raised a hand above his head and one of the many, golden rings upon his hand began to glow. “My time down here has been dull. I could do with some en-ter-tain-ment.”
A swirl of turbulent energy erupted from the ring and flew straight towards the party’s rogue. Forced to make a saving throw against the necromancer’s Dominate Person spell, she too was unfavoured by the dice: Her body went limp. Standing so softly that an errant wind might knock her down, she awaited her command.
“Kill them,” the necromancer whispered through a terrifying smile, bones creaking like the unoiled hinges of a door as he sat back down upon his throne.
The rogue drew her blades. With misty eyes shining of green light, she spun around in a Sneak Attack on their sorcerer. The party was woefully unprepared for the massacre that followed. Forced to fight against her, all the over-powered abilities, traits and attacks she had at her disposal that had been until then an annoyance became sources of anguish and fear.
Dunerak the dragonborn sorcerer, your typical squishy spell-caster, fell in the first turn and was only brought back to consciousness by Murdan’s Lay on Hands. Lorelii spent her turn firing an arrow charged with electricity at the necromancer himself. It struck true and the Lightning Arrow lodged in his shoulder, pinning him to the throne he sat upon. Sir Walder hesitated to attack his friend though. As she bore down upon the prone dragonborn and the dwarf standing between them, he could not determine which fight he wanted to take. Ultimately, this was their undoing.
Their sorcerer could never quite gain his footing in the battle, reducing their damage output significantly and handicapping their paladin as well. When they both fell, not into unconsciousness, but to the hands of fate, Rubes the Dungeon Master rubbed her paws together eagerly.
“You’re out?” she asked, wanting to be sure.
“I am,” moaned the player.
“Me too,” said the other.
“You know what that means, don’t you?”
Red-faced, they resigned themselves to the all-too-familiar punishment for character death as Rubes reached for the first with a hand large enough to conceal him in a single fist. Her free hand tugged the front of her thick, wool jumper open and then her shirt as well. She raised her plaything into the air and held him above her now exposed chest.
“In you go,” she chuckled.
Her grip released upon him and he tumbled down, vanishing from the other players’ sight to settle amongst her cleavage. The second plaything joined the first and the titanic-sized Dungeon Master tucked them in real snug with a few pokes of her finger.
Rubes did this with an air of mirth. As far as she was concerned, there was nothing strange nor peculiar about this. It was all just part of the game. So, when she unhooked her jumper and it relaxed back into place, sealing them both in a newly-dark, warm and soft space, she did not miss a beat before declaring her next attack.
Such it was that Jade was soon lifted from the game board also and, after a brief apology, she too was tucked between Rubes’ girls. Temporarily forgotten, save for the occasional squirm, the Dungeon Master then turned her full attention on the sole ‘survivor’.
“So, Liam, what’s Sir Walder’s plan?” came her snide taunt. “Is he going to try giving them the ol’ thwack?”
The only reply she received was an exasperated: “I don’t think I like Dungeons and Dragons anymore.”
With a dozen kobold knights, a barely fazed necromancer and an over-powered rouge still on the board, Rubes declared the total party wipe shortly after and once more pinched Liam by the scruff of his cloak.
“Pity you think that, little knight,” she said, dropping him atop her cleavage before her jumper’s collar slunk back up to her neck.
Cast into the darkness as much as the rest of the party, all that was left for Liam to do was keep his legs and arms outstretched to try and stop himself from slipping too deep. He could still recall the last time that had happened during their previous campaign and the memory made him more than a little nervous.
Her playthings gathered together though and struggling so pleasantly each time she moved, all Rubes had to say for herself as she reclined back in the chair and examined one of the kobold miniatures was a simple remark.
“Pity indeed, little knight, because I love Dungeons and Dragons.”
Second part for
with a twist, thanks again man :D
story provided by commissioner
>if you enjoy my content, consider supporting my patreon!
>check my twitter for more doodles!
>sub to the picarto to see the pics in the making :D
Rubes, having been in the midst of an attack roll, released her grip on the dice at a most inopportune moment. A patter followed as it bounced across the tabletop wildly before tumbling off the edge to an unseen oblivion. Before it had even struck the ground, her expression had become one of stubborn, boiling vexation. Brow furrowed, muzzle pouting and arms crossed, the glare she offered would have stopped a rampaging Bulette dead in its tracks.
Her friends were made of finer metal though. Sir Walder’s player, Liam, who had named his character after his cat, did not even flinch as she growled out her reply. His expression matched hers but his body stature was far more evocative as his hand had shot out in an accusatory point: Being roughly the size of Rubes’ finger, they had to be as animated as possible with their bodies. Doing so helped tremendously in communicating feelings and intent with someone that could just as easily flick them across the country.
“I know! I know!” she snapped at him, fingers tapping her elbow. “What’s your point?”
“The point,” continued the unperturbed Liam, “is that you keep breaking immersion and touting yourself up!” He thrust his paper-mâché sword towards Rubes’ stern face. “Stop stealing all the thunder!”
The Dungeon Master’s ears twitched at the accusation.
“What he means,” interrupted Jade, sitting at the edge of the battle-map with a bow fashioned from an unused toothpick, “is that we’re really trying to engage with this world. It’s just hard playing side-characters in your story.”
The rest of the players echoed the sentiment. Rubes looked to each of them in turn.
Stern faced, she tried to convince them she was very serious and very annoyed. Yet each moment softened her expression until all she could do was sigh. Her nostrils flared and the consequential burst of air struck the table and bellowed out to ruffle the hair of her pint-sized players. A character sheet spun slightly as well. Liam, having been standing atop it, fell to his ass.
Rubes snorted. Then she apologized.
“Sorry, sorry!” she said, reaching forwards to pinch the scruff of his coat and pull him back to his feet, her jumper straining against the edge of the tabletop.
“You’re right,” she admitted. “But I think we all have a small share of the blame if you really-”
“Rubes,” Jade grumbled, setting her bow aside and removing the toy coif she wore to cosplay her character.
“Not buying it?”
Silence and disapproving stares was her reply – save for the rustle of Liam’s patchwork armour as he shook his head.
“Then how about just giving me one more chance? I’ve been thinking about this next encounter for a while and I think it will be a real treat!”
So, while it took some convincing, they all begrudgingly agreed on one more hurrah. The tomb cleared, they downed a Potion of Greater Healing each, the rejuvenating liquid a saving grace, and then marched forwards towards the expansive staircase that would lead them straight into the heart of Castle Thronstenell. It would be there that they finally came face-to-face with the monster that had corrupted this once beautiful kingdom: The necromancer.
He sat before them atop an ancient throne. His ghastly visage was one that had defied death a hundred times over through twisted magic. His weathered, canvas of skin was tattooed with arcane seals and glyphs. As the adventuring party assembled in the crumbling chamber, he rose to his feet and spoke in a voice that resembled dust and gravel more than tongue.
“This realm holds no remorse for the lost nor weary,” he wheezed. “Leave. No esteem awaits you but as low-bred slaves for my machinations.”
Plainly visible in the light of his fiercely glowing, green eyes was a gathered force of only a dozen kobolds – though they were outfitted with weapons and armour far superior to the few they had encountered in the corridor. Sir Walder was characteristically undeterred however. He rested his hand upon the hilt of his blade and shouted across the cold stone: “We have no qualm with you or whatever it is you are doing here. Our only task here is to retrieve a weapon.”
Murdan shifted behind the knight, fidgeting with his Holy Symbol and muttering disagreements that the rest of the party ignored.
Lorelii drew back her bow but kept it aimed at the floor. “That’s right,” she agreed. “We seek a staff in your possession. Surrender it to us and we shall leave this place in peace.”
Rubes had both Liam and Jade roll persuasion checks, surprised by their willingness to cut a deal with the wretched creature she had placed before them. She gently lowered the dice into their outstretched arms, each D20 half the size of themselves but fortunately made from a lightweight foam rather than resin.
The Dungeon Master leaned forwards and then finally took a relaxing breath when the rolls settled: A 17 from Liam, bumped up to 22 thanks to his proficiency, and a Nat 1 from Jade.
A villainous laugh bellowed from her as the necromancer gave a dry chuckle. His body shuddered from the exertion and the kobolds guarding him added their own grunts to form a horrendous cacophony. “You amuse me,” he declared. He raised a hand above his head and one of the many, golden rings upon his hand began to glow. “My time down here has been dull. I could do with some en-ter-tain-ment.”
A swirl of turbulent energy erupted from the ring and flew straight towards the party’s rogue. Forced to make a saving throw against the necromancer’s Dominate Person spell, she too was unfavoured by the dice: Her body went limp. Standing so softly that an errant wind might knock her down, she awaited her command.
“Kill them,” the necromancer whispered through a terrifying smile, bones creaking like the unoiled hinges of a door as he sat back down upon his throne.
The rogue drew her blades. With misty eyes shining of green light, she spun around in a Sneak Attack on their sorcerer. The party was woefully unprepared for the massacre that followed. Forced to fight against her, all the over-powered abilities, traits and attacks she had at her disposal that had been until then an annoyance became sources of anguish and fear.
Dunerak the dragonborn sorcerer, your typical squishy spell-caster, fell in the first turn and was only brought back to consciousness by Murdan’s Lay on Hands. Lorelii spent her turn firing an arrow charged with electricity at the necromancer himself. It struck true and the Lightning Arrow lodged in his shoulder, pinning him to the throne he sat upon. Sir Walder hesitated to attack his friend though. As she bore down upon the prone dragonborn and the dwarf standing between them, he could not determine which fight he wanted to take. Ultimately, this was their undoing.
Their sorcerer could never quite gain his footing in the battle, reducing their damage output significantly and handicapping their paladin as well. When they both fell, not into unconsciousness, but to the hands of fate, Rubes the Dungeon Master rubbed her paws together eagerly.
“You’re out?” she asked, wanting to be sure.
“I am,” moaned the player.
“Me too,” said the other.
“You know what that means, don’t you?”
Red-faced, they resigned themselves to the all-too-familiar punishment for character death as Rubes reached for the first with a hand large enough to conceal him in a single fist. Her free hand tugged the front of her thick, wool jumper open and then her shirt as well. She raised her plaything into the air and held him above her now exposed chest.
“In you go,” she chuckled.
Her grip released upon him and he tumbled down, vanishing from the other players’ sight to settle amongst her cleavage. The second plaything joined the first and the titanic-sized Dungeon Master tucked them in real snug with a few pokes of her finger.
Rubes did this with an air of mirth. As far as she was concerned, there was nothing strange nor peculiar about this. It was all just part of the game. So, when she unhooked her jumper and it relaxed back into place, sealing them both in a newly-dark, warm and soft space, she did not miss a beat before declaring her next attack.
Such it was that Jade was soon lifted from the game board also and, after a brief apology, she too was tucked between Rubes’ girls. Temporarily forgotten, save for the occasional squirm, the Dungeon Master then turned her full attention on the sole ‘survivor’.
“So, Liam, what’s Sir Walder’s plan?” came her snide taunt. “Is he going to try giving them the ol’ thwack?”
The only reply she received was an exasperated: “I don’t think I like Dungeons and Dragons anymore.”
With a dozen kobold knights, a barely fazed necromancer and an over-powered rouge still on the board, Rubes declared the total party wipe shortly after and once more pinched Liam by the scruff of his cloak.
“Pity you think that, little knight,” she said, dropping him atop her cleavage before her jumper’s collar slunk back up to her neck.
Cast into the darkness as much as the rest of the party, all that was left for Liam to do was keep his legs and arms outstretched to try and stop himself from slipping too deep. He could still recall the last time that had happened during their previous campaign and the memory made him more than a little nervous.
Her playthings gathered together though and struggling so pleasantly each time she moved, all Rubes had to say for herself as she reclined back in the chair and examined one of the kobold miniatures was a simple remark.
“Pity indeed, little knight, because I love Dungeons and Dragons.”
Second part for
with a twist, thanks again man :Dstory provided by commissioner
>if you enjoy my content, consider supporting my patreon!
>check my twitter for more doodles!
>sub to the picarto to see the pics in the making :D
Category Artwork (Digital) / Macro / Micro
Species Unspecified / Any
Size 1280 x 726px
File Size 166.1 kB
Macros playing TTRPGs with hapless micros will never stop being an excellent concept. Especially when the "punishment" for character death is as pleasant as that! ...Though, of course, I imagine shit gets old really, really fast when you have such a bad GM.
In terms of the art, you did a wonderful job with the expressions on this piece! The kobold minis are oddly cute. The previous piece had some really nice lighting effects (plus the dragonborn's "for fuck's sake" expression makes me smile). Great work all around!
In terms of the art, you did a wonderful job with the expressions on this piece! The kobold minis are oddly cute. The previous piece had some really nice lighting effects (plus the dragonborn's "for fuck's sake" expression makes me smile). Great work all around!
This reminds me of a quote: "I want to run an RPG campaign without having players who might throw off my planned storyline. edit: I have been informed this is called 'writing a book.'"
I would have questioned why anyone would put up with this game until I saw the 'punishment' for losing a character. Seems more like a way to comfort players for having to start over... and I admit, that would inspire me to make characters with single-digit Con, just so they'd get killed more often.
I would have questioned why anyone would put up with this game until I saw the 'punishment' for losing a character. Seems more like a way to comfort players for having to start over... and I admit, that would inspire me to make characters with single-digit Con, just so they'd get killed more often.
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