My other campaign just ended, in a much less satisfying way than the first one did. We, a group of level four to level five adventurers, spent the last few sessions trying to rescue our friend Ulrich from the keep of the seventh level wizard Zanzer Tem, and we charged in again today. We killed many hobgoblins and bugbears, but ultimately reached a room with a large revolving door. Some members of our party (not me) thought it was the best idea to open the revolving door slightly, fire arrows into the crowd of mining hobgoblins on the other side, and then close the door again. Krash (half-orc barbarian and defender of hippos everywhere) and Spencer (my character, half-elf fighter and essentially nice guy) were assigned to do the shooting. I want to be on record as saying I have no clue what this tactic was supposed to do for us, but it was in character for Spencer to go along with it. Well, anyway, we failed to reclose the door, and a mob of hobgoblins came pouring in and basically slaughtered us. I mean, we killed all of them ultimately, but we were all dying, and a bunch of ogres and bugbears were coming, so we wound up having to run away just as the session ended, so that wound up being the end of our story. I wanted more resolution than that, but whatever. Enough talk, on to the funny bits.
In the beginning of the session, we were all supposed to be brainstorming, but kept getting sidetracked by irrelevant stuff. The first time this happened, I said "Okay! Clever plan!" to get us back to the game, but then people started being silly again. Our DM said "Okay, so you wake up, say 'Clever plan!' and then spend the day getting drunk and playing dice. You go to bed." We kept talking, people kept bringing up irrelevant stuff, and I again said "Clever plan!" "Day two!" said our DM. "You wake up, say 'Clever plan!' and then spend the day getting drunk and playing dice. You go to bed." More talk, someone else said "Clever plan!" "Day three!" quoth the DM. We wound up going through a week like that.
One of our characters was a dragonfire adept (yeah, I hadn't heard of those before either) named Drachgok, who could breathe cones of fire. It was a standard thing: 3d6 damage, ref save for half. She breathed on a group of hobgoblins, and said "Thirteen damage." "So," said our DM, "half the crowd fails the ref save and dies, and the other half passes and. . . still dies."
Before we could storm the keep, we wanted to do scouting. For some reason, before they left to go scouting, the people playing Drachgok and Krash started singing songs from "Evita," until the guy playing our wizard/cleric Aleen said "Okay, I'm casting Silence." "Excellent," said the DM, "That's exactly what I would have done." Later Aleen regretted having blown a spell on making a joke.
Krash was rolling incredibly well during today's session, and had just picked up Cleave. It was a shame she didn't have Greater Cleave, because she probably would have been able to take out the whole mob in three rounds, but c'est la vie. In any event. Our DM likes to play it cool, but when Krash reported that in one blow she had done nineteen damage, he screamed "Jesus shit, woman!" This was probably funnier to me than to anyone else.
And finally, as we were being attacked, grappled, and exterminated by the horde of hobgoblins, our DM got a thoughtful look on his face and reflected "You know, as 'Rocks fall; everyone dies' goes, a mob really isn't bad."
The moral of the story, of course, is that our DM is a clever and delightful total bastard. I'll miss this game. I'd grown rather attached to Spencer, who, as we walked into the whole death trap thing, turned to Krash and said "If I die, I want you to tell my father he's a jerk."