Zack:

The entrance way seems to be impassable. A massive and foreboding double portcullis blocks the entryway of a 30' wide corridor. A breeze is gently blowing from the palace corridor and it carries with it the dust of decayed stone and the smell of decaying bodies. Occasionally sounds of pain, fright, and hunger can be heard, but they are far away and sometimes muffled, so that all that may be heard is a short piercing scream and then total silence.

Steve: That's fairly foreboding, but I am a tough man hardened by a foreboding world and will not be deterred by your average foreboding. What does it take to open this portcullis?

Zack: A combined strength of 30.

Steve: Combined with what?

Zack: The rest of the party.

Steve: Did I mention that Yngwulf, being raised by the wulves of the tundra, possess a strength of 30 through his physical conditioning and constant, wanton shredding?

Zack: You heave open the portcullis and enter the shadowy entrance of the palace. It is really spooky and mossy and there are bugs. This place is the pits.

Steve: Heh, I've seen worse. I was a roadie for Iggy Pop. I caught hepatitis three times just from reaching into boxes and bags.

Zack: The room branches into two hallways, both leading south.

Steve: I will go with the one on the right, because the left hand is the sinister hand and south paws shred pitifully weak.

More WTF, D&D!?

This Week on Something Awful...

  • Get In The God Dang Weight Room, Johnny Manziel!

    Get In The God Dang Weight Room, Johnny Manziel!

    Simply put, if I had Johnny Manziel’s physical gifts, you better believe I would be there in the Weight Room, getting to bed early, doing whatever I had to do to be the best possible athlete I could be. I wouldn't be posting on social media about sucking titties. I wouldn't even look at a titty, buddy. I'd look at a titty and see two big footballs.

  • Helping Your Real Friends Move

    Helping Your Real Friends Move

    A real friend doesn't move until the middle of August, ensuring temperatures in the 90s and a humidity that turns boxers into moist balls of ruined cotton.

Copyright ©2014 Rich "Lowtax" Kyanka & Something Awful LLC.