Last night we started the Greypocalypse Arc of my campaign. Fimbulwinter has come to the Flanaess and frost giant vikings roam the land. The players totally beat the crap out of my giants. Their 21st level gestalt PCs pretty much slapped them around as if these guys were just another pile of 1 hit die orcs. Then the blizzard came, and with it the five Old Feral White Dragons. "Feral" is an old template from Mike Mearls's Monster's Handbook for 3E. It basically shuts off a dragon's more fiddly spell power and ramps up the killing machinery. 3.x dragons as written drive me nuts. Too many crunchy bits to manage. At the end of the session I put my Galactus action figure on the board, to stand in for this guy. Once the heroes put down the Glacier That Walks Like A Man then we can get to the meat of Ragnarok: god-killin'.
"Man, is there anything Jeff CAN'T do when it comes to gaming? This guy is like a critical 20 every roll. Jeff can bite the heads offa five game geeks, including their sorry-ass DM, and spit 'em into a large duffel bag ONE AT A TIME!...that's just the kind of messed up bastard he is! You think yer a gamer, punk? Well..do ya? Jeff will depants your weasel-ass right in front of your grandma."