It's been interesting. For weeks, the party is suddenly vanishing from their surroundings--their beds, the bar, the garden, the bar--and appearing at a place wherein a different member of the party is tested each time. These tests have included the entire party turning into hummingbirds to ride on the thief's hat as she crossed a chasm on an enchanted rope, and the horribly embarassing I Roll To Seduce The Dragon Incident, of which we will not speak again.
We are at the final test now, wherein our ranger (having blasphemed to failure through her previous test) found herself outside a jail cell. Inside the jail cell was the rest of the party, tied hand and foot. Outside was the ranger, a very large giant, and a note that said You Brought This On Yourself, You Know.
PALADIN: Now, what have we learned about blasphemy...?
RANGER: Look, a lot of things got said in the heat of the moment. Let's not point fingers.
Executing a dramatic cartwheel, she seized the key from the jailer, flung it through the bars to Lawrence, the alchemist's toad familiar (not tied up) and Lawrence freed the party. Fizzgig (yes, like the one from the Dark Crystal, the paladin's beloved but frequently incontinent companion) was muzzled and chained down, so obviously it was ON.
Unfortunately for the giant, when there is only one enemy to focus the party's firepower on, things go badly. He would get up and get knocked prone, into the wall of acid surrounded by the wall of thorns. He would get up again. He would get knocked prone again. And Fizzgig wanted revenge.
FIZZGIG: Graw graw graw!
PALADIN: Fizzgig attacks.
GM: He misses.
PALADIN: He pees in rage. And spends an action point to attack again.
GM: He hits that time.
PALADIN: He pees in triumph.
THIEF: I knock him prone again!
GM: He's prone again.
GNOLL: I mark him.
GM: Like..um...mark him how--
GNOLL: Oh, I pee on him like Fizzgig.
GM: ...Of course you do.
PALADIN: Fizzgig would high-five you, but he can only reach up about six inches.
GNOME: This is so not sanitary.
GNOLL: I hear it works on jellyfish stings, too!
GNOME: No, that's vodka.
(There is a pause while it is determined that urine is not actually effective on jellyfish stings.)
PALADIN: *uses new level power, which includes glowing brightly*
PARTY: Uh...Rooster, what the hell is that?
PALADIN: Err...vitamins? And the blessing of the weasel. But mostly vitamins.
GM: It's a stance.
THIEF: So you just...like...struck a power pose and started glowing?
Eventually the thief hung from the ceiling and dropped her Wondrous Elephant on the giant's head. (Elephant Being Dropped On Enemy Heads From A Great Height is basically the party's signature move now.) He was knocked prone again.
GM: I guess technically he's grabbed too, because there's an elephant standing on him...
At long last, the giant finally got off a power which knocked everyone back three squares, got the elephant off him, and fled the walls of pain. Mr. Stompy the elephant, who for once was not dead (Mr. Stompy has an assigned therapist at the castle, as he rarely survives combat but is summoned nearly every time anyway) stood there, confused.
PALADIN: Maybe we should ask Mr. Stompy if he wants to be unsummoned or not.
THIEF: Good idea! Mr. Stompy! Using the medium of interpretive dance, can you tell us what you'd like to do?
GM: ...he decides to stay.
PALADIN: Did you roll for that?
GM: No. I just tried to put myself into the head of the elephant. Now about the giant...
THIEF: Oh, I knock him prone again.
GM: Jesus christ.
PALADIN: I use Knight's Defiance and drag him back adjacent...on his face.
GM: Little silver weasels grab him and drag him across the floor. He reaches the walls.
DRUID: The wall does 4 damage--
GM: He dies.
GM: Tiny silver weasels assembled around the ranger, dancing like they are at a rave. The blessing of the Weasel is upon you.
RANGER: Uh, cool, I guess?
The party found itself back at their castle, yet again. The current avatar of the Silver Weasel, the mad rune-priest Ancient Gil, appeared, informed the party that they were worthy, and that there was only one of the party left to deal with.
And turned to Fizzgig.
AVATAR: You know your pet is a demon, right?
(Technically the Silver Weasel is a demon-hunting order. It's just...well...Fizzgig looked sad when we found him, and you know...)
PALADIN: Okay, yes, technically, but he's not bad.
PALADIN: Anyway I got a dispensation! From you. Years ago. Remember?
AVATAR: What if I ended that dispensation?
PALADIN: ...I'd be very sad?
THIEF: We'd have to rehome him. It's very hard to rehome a Fizzgig.
PALADIN: I mean, if the Weasel wills it, I guess that's the way it is, but he's my buddy! I'd...err...ask for a chance to talk the Weasel out of it?
RANGER: Oh god, he's gonna try to use diplomacy on the Weasel.
GNOME: What if we convert him?
PALADIN: The Weasel? I don't think we can convert the Weasel to following the Weasel. That'd be like narcissism or something--
GNOME: I MEANT FIZZGIG
PALADIN: HE'S MY LITTLE BUDDY, GIL
AVATAR: *sigh* FINE.
AVATAR: But he has to convert. And swear fealty to you personally. And renounce all his claims in his home plane.
PALADIN: I have a Comprehend Languages ritual right here...
*Five Minutes Later*
PALADIN: Okay, Fizzgig, I know you understood all that, but that's a lot to ask. And if you feel you can't convert, I'll understand. And if we have to go our separate ways now, you have to do what's best for you. But I'll miss you terribly!
PARTY: *stands around awkwardly*
DRUID's PLAYER: You're not rolling Diplomacy?
PALADIN'S PLAYER: He means every word!
RANGER'S PLAYER: Every guilt-dripping word...
PALADIN'S PLAYER: Look, Fizzgig has to want to stay. He's not gonna make him.
PALADIN: *buries face in Fizzgig, sobs*
RANGER: *gagging noises*
FIZZGIG: Graw. Graw graw graw...
FIZZGIG: (translated) Oh lord. What do you think the odds are of you surviving without me?
PALADIN: Uh...the druid's the numbers guy...
DRUID: I dunno, maybe fifty-fifty--
GNOME: (cutting him off) VERY LOW. EXTREMELY LOW.
PALADIN: But it's asking a lot! I know it is! I don't want you to do it if you don't want to!
RANGER: The guilt!
PALADIN: *sobs some more*
GM: ...this is some Old Yeller shit right here.
GNOME: (in the backround) Super low odds.
GM: Oh, fine. He turns to the Avatar and kneels.
PALADIN'S PLAYER: So that's a height change of what...half an inch? I'm pretty sure his feet are bolted directly to the undercarriage...
AVATAR: Graw graw graw
FIZZGIG: Graw. Graw-graw.
GM: Glowing light surrounds him. A patch of his fur turns silver.
AVATAR: Fine, you can keep him. *vanishes, grumbling*
PALADIN: *picks Fizzgig up* I LOVE YOU, FIZZGIG
RANGER: Is anybody else getting, like, super uncomfortable here?
THIEF & GNOME (prone to sentimentality): Nawww.
GM: (some hours later) I didn't expect you to just say "Okay, but I'll be sad."
PALADIN's PLAYER: What? It was his god saying it! He's a paladin! Do you expect Rooster to fall from grace for Fizzgig?
PALADIN'S PLAYER: Okay, yeah, probably. But I would have tried Diplomacy first, anyway.