(reposted from RPGnet, 'cause I wanted to save a copy.)
I was playing Botonomus Bradlebreek, half-elf neutral druid/magic-user. Dave was playing Bud the Wiser, lawful good cleric. Eric was playing Krug, chaotic stupid half-ogre fighter. We're in a dungeon which can only be accessed via a 200' deep pit when Botonomus is struck down by a critter that had been released from a cage. For reasons which I do not fathom to this day, Dave decides to pimp me over. Bud informs Krug that my guy is dead even though Botonomus was simply unconscious at 0 hit points. Being a cleric, Bud performs the last rites on me or whatever and then tells Krug, "We can't leave him here as food for monsters, nor can we possibly make it back up the pit with his body. Let's inter the remains in this handy monster cage." They then leave the dungeon and pull up the only rope the party owns, abandoning my unconscious PC in a dungeon at the bottom of a two hundred foot deep pit.
But I got revenge. Dave thought I wouldn't be able to get myself out of this tight spot, but he forgot that I could cast stone shape. Once I regained consciousness I 'dug' a tunnel through the cell floor and shaped a ladder up the pit. Given the volume of stone that I needed to sculpt the whole operation took several days with my guy slowly dying from lack of food and water. ("Since he's dead he won't need his rations or wineskin, we might as well take them." -Bud.) Once I tracked the two ratfinks down I waited until they were separated, then I went to work on Krug. Botonomus covered himself from head to toe in flour and appeared in Krug's room late at night.
"Krug, you left me for dead! Now I will haunt you for the rest of time! Boogah! Boogah! Boo!"
"No, please! Me do whatever you want, just no haunt Krug!"
"The only way to save yourself is to kill Bud!"
Eric was the kind of player that welcomed any excuse to kill another PC. So Krug promptly sauntered over to the place where Bud was staying and gleefully whacked on him with his bastard sword until the treacherous priest was good and dead. Worst thing about the whole fiasco was that at the end of the session Dave was pissed at me! "I never thought you'd make it out of the dungeon!" was his mean-spirited justification for his irrational anger. That was going on 15 years ago. I still don't know what made him decide that his lawful good cleric needed to act that way.
cryptid in july poetry day 05, indrid cold - a poem about indrid cold I should have been a hand model Then no one would think I’m weird for holding my hands up to cover this huge permanent shit ea...