Woot trollbridge

WOOT TROLLBRIDGE

The First Adventure

Woot Trollbridge was, bastardly enough, a troll. Because of this, he felt compelled to introduce himself into online games that he had no real business in. Also because of practicing his particular hobby, he was smooth enough to convince the DM that it was a good idea to let him in on the activities.

So, upon speaking with one DM in particular, Woot was given the opportunity to play a Chaotic Evil barbarian. This was not Woot's idea, but rather the idea of the DM himself. "I want to see what you can do with it." And so, Woot the Barbarian was introduced into the game.

His first act was to immediately go into the magistrate's office of the town that the players were in and attempt to become sheriff. He then used his piss-poor Disguise skill to cover his face with a mustache and began rallying support for his cause amongst the NPCs. Before long, Woot the Barbarian had become quite the popular member of society and was awarded the prize he so candidly sought after. At which point things took a turn for the surreal.

Woot Trollbridge gathered a posse, picked up a fencepost from someone's property, and attempted to make a good first impression by chasing one of the PCs out of town for loitering.

The PC in question was an elven wizard, and was something of a dick to the other players and a rules lawyer to the DM. When the posse came for him, the wizard calmly assessed the situation and found that he could not take on all of the people there without things getting awkward with the general populace.

So he ran. And Woot the Barbarian pursued him, heading west, for twenty days.

Things were still happening with the other players, so Woot politely allowed those things to carry on before stating that he was still chasing after the elf. By the twentieth day, he finally asked the wizard if he was still running. The wizard confirmed it, and asked why he was doing this. Woot responded "I forget, but it doesn't matter anymore. I'm heading back to town." The elf player's irritation had been growing and growing since Woot the Barbarian's introduction into the game, but the response to his "Good, I'm heading back, too," fanned the flames of anger into a roaring inferno.

"You can't. You headed west," said Woot.

"Yes, that's right. You headed west, your character's been retired," said the DM, seizing the opportunity to get rid of the obnoxious rules lawyer. "What? Goddammit, that's not what that means! I have to get on a boat!" "I'm sure I chased you over a river at some point during those twenty days," said Woot. "What does that even have to do with what we're talking about?!"

And so, the conversation carried on until the elven wizard left, much to the relief of the other players and the DM. Woot was praised. Woot was celebrated. Woot was excellent.

Woot was under suspicion from the human paladin of the group, who was suspicious about the motivation of a barbarian that had chased one of his party members out of town and hadn't been seen in a while. But, ever prepared, the barbarian headed back to town and sent the DM a private message, saying that he wished to purchase a Ring of Obscure Alignment with the money that he had been provided when his character sheet was given to him.

And so, the plot thickened. And then it congealed.

Woot arrived back in town just in time for the party to find a plot hook. Finding themselves short a man, the remainder of the party searched for someone that could fight. The paladin, the druid, and the ranger found Woot the Barbarian in a tavern and recruited him for the dangerous task of exploring a desolate and decrepit mines.

Six days and twenty-three hours into the mines, full of treasure and adventure and slaughter of helpless kobolds, Woot revealed a dark and terrible secret.

"I... I didn't want to bring this up, gentlemen. I thought this wouldn't take nearly as long as it has, but I was wrong. You see, I have a curse.

I must drink the blood of an enemy from its skull every week, or I will die."

Private messages flew like the wind. The DM asked Woot what he thought he was doing. The other players were asking what the DM thought he was doing. The DM was cryptically responding to the other players. Woot spoke simply.

"Trust me."

At which point Woot raged and attacked the ranger, managing to beat him into a pulp within a few rounds. Stunned, the paladin and the druid looked on. When Woot's rage ended, he was exhausted and collapsed at the feet of the paladin.

"P-please... help me! I need you!"

The paladin's player, having long since given in to Woot's weirdness, laughed and said "Sure, fine, whatever. I cut the ranger's head off and remove the top of the skull so he can get his blood."

To which the DM replied in private messages, "You feel the light of Good fade. You have fallen for desecrating a corpse and serving its remains to an Evil being."

The paladin glazed over, sightlessly staring at the barbarian as he slurped the blood and ick from the skull of the ranger. The paladin's player, being something of a good sport, cackled at the sudden turn of events and carried on with his good time.

"Uh. I. Don't feel so great, you guys... let's just hold here for a while before we try to escape this mine."

And so, they waited for two days. On the third, the paladin had still not regained his powers. Also on the third, they broke camp and started for the exit, with Woot still partially wounded from his fight with the ranger. Their food supplies were growing thin and things were looking grim.

Grim for all but Woot the Barbarian, who hatched a master plan.

Of course, being a barbarian, the definition of "Master Plan" doesn't exactly startle your average person with the sheer brilliance and/or clarity of thought put into such a thing. Woot's plan was to leech as many Goodberries from the druid as he could possibly manage, to get his health to recover as quickly as possible.

While he was at it, the barbarian managed to foil escapes by way of waiting until they found a cave exit, exclaiming "I SEE LIGHT!", then smashing the cave wall to create a cave-in to seal the exit off. Much hatred was directed at Woot the Barbarian... but he was still a raging maniac, the likes of which they were not sure they could handle on their own with naught but a fallen paladin and a druid.

So they carried on until the sixth day after breaking camp. Twenty-two hours into it, Woot the Barbarian cleared his throat and hefted his fencepost.

"Gentlemen... it's getting to be that time again..."

The druid and the paladin looked at each other, wondering who was going to be the victim this time. The fallen paladin was weaker, but the druid presented a greater threat and might be a wiser decision to eliminate for the evil tyrant.

In the end, though, the decision was taken entirely out of Woot the Barbarian's hands. The druid struck fast, first, and hard. The paladin fell for the second time, though in a far more permanent fashion.

Woot was impressed. "Didn't see that one coming... nice." "Shut up. I hate you." "Heh heh. Look, can you do me one favor? My hands are shaking too bad to get this guy's head open and I don't even have a knife on me." "I hate you, I hate you, I hate you..."

And so, the druid picked up the paladin's shield, the sword having long since gone missing, and messily severed the fallen paladin's head from his shoulders. A few more awkward thunks later, Woot the Barbarian had his skull of blood and was happily slurping up the clotting mess.

"Man... that was great. But you know, I think I could go for another." The druid slowly turned to stare at Woot. "... What." "You know. A skull of blood. Very delicious stuff, that." "... You LIKE it?" "It's a delicacy, where I'm from." "... You're not cursed at all." "Heh. Heh. Heh."

The out-of-commission players, no longer allowed to speak in-character, went wild. Name-calling and hateful remarks filled the out-of-character void, and demands for Woot's head to be bitten off by an angry bear were heard here and there. The DM, long since given up on trying to keep secrets, cackled like a madman in the background. The druid rolled for initiative straight off the bat, and Woot followed soon after.

"I change into a bear and start swiping the shit out of him." The DM took a moment to recover and replied, "Oh? How do you plan on doing that?" "... I'm a druid. I can do that." Woot the Barbarian, likely coldly smiling at the words on his computer screen, replied.

"Not when you've just used a metal shield to give me a skull full of blood."

A hush fell over the crowd. Sweet, sweet silence. You could almost hear the earth that made up the cavern walls holding its breath. A pin dropped on the floor could have made the most deafening crash ever heard since the Big Bang.

"What," uttered the druid.

And then a rising crescendo of text flooded the screen.

"OHHHHHHH-" "WHAT-" "MYYYYYYY-" "THE-" "I CAN'T FEEL MY LEGS, HOW DID THIS HAPPEN" "GOOOOOOOOD D:" "FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK"

In desperation, the druid took his turn to throw the shield and attempted to run. Taking the blunt side of the shield to the face and suffering a minor laceration, Woot the Barbarian gave chase. He knew the fight was already won, before he even took the first steps. The druid was powerless to stop him and he knew it. He would walk away with blood in his wake, treasure in his sack, and no one would be the wiser.

Victory was his.

The Second Adventure

The following tale of Woot Trollbridge occurs soon after the story I told in this very thread, with the very same players and DM as the last tale.

This time around, however, Woot deemed it necessary to show his true colors. After all, there was no point in hiding what he was anymore. He introduced himself as a troll blackguard. Much to his surprise, though, the entire group rolled up characters of similar alignments. The wizard from the last game, codenamed Jules, had rolled up a tiefling cleric of Hextor. The paladin who took his beating with a laugh, AKA Joker, became a Lawful Evil fighter. The ranger, "Vic," a warlock. The druid that had lasted until the end, so-called Happy for his delightful demeanor, became a kobold wizard.

Woot was in unfamiliar territory. They had apparently learned from his last exercise and had taken the lesson to heart. But, ever doughty, he pressed on.

This particular adventure was short, sweet, and simple. A caravan for the local church of Pelor was coming through. The goal was likewise short, sweet, and simple: Waylay the caravan and make off with the goodies. The fight was brutal, and Vic immediately died in the melee with a little help from everyone else in the party.

"Vic" is short for "Victim," you see.

The insidious adventurers made short work of the caravan and made off with the loot. Among the holy items and artifacts that were in it was a blade that practically gleamed with the light of Good. A Holy Avenger.

Knowing what horrible effects that could befall any evil being that touched the weapon, Woot insisted that no one touch it. Being the contrary soul that he was, Jules immediately picked it up anyway and was promptly dealt negative levels, a fact that everyone still alive in the party quickly took advantage of.

After defiling the bodies of their fallen comrades and dumping them in the ditch, one with a single note pinned to its shirt with a crude drawing on it, Woot and Co. made their way to a super-secret treasure trove... better known to geographers as a slimy cave some short distance from the town that the last adventure had taken place in. Taking full advantage of the resources that the kindly souls dedicated to Pelor had provided unto them, they transported the holy relics to the aforementioned cave and proceeded to carefully park the caravan wagon inside.

It was at this point that a reverent silence fell over the gathered people. This was something to be remembered. The calm after the hail of steel and the rending of flesh. The basking in the warmth that the holy items gave off, like that of the setting sun. The simple feeling of accomplishment.

In an instant, the silence was shattered as Woot found a blade plunged into his back and through his chest. Woot regarded the tip of the blade with the utmost calm, then peered back to see that it was Joker.

"This might be the poorest decision you've made y--"

It was at this point that Happy launched a blast of eldritch power at Woot.

"... Like I was saying. This might be th--"

Another display of eldritch power from Happy.

"Ah, fuck it."

And the fight was on.

The battle was bloody and almost as brutal as the onslaught that the entire group had laid upon the caravan to get the items in the first place. For Woot, the fight was for the items and the glory. For Happy, it was about vengeance. For Joker... hell, it was just too funny to pass up.

Though outnumbered two-to-one, Woot fought like a demon. In the end, though, he was felled by Happy, who promptly fell to Joker's mighty greatsword.

The treasure was not Woot's, nor the glory, nor the victory. Not this time around. But his third and final tale involving this motley crew of players would definitely prove to be his best.