Zitat
>DM: Ok Kirk, you've taken 150 damage. What does that leave you at?
Kirk: Oh, I'm fine. I still have 50 hit points left.
DM: Kirk, what the fuck are you trying to pull? That's impossible.
Kirk: Well, I -am- 143rd level.
DM: Kirk, I told you you had to level down to 10 before you could play. Lemme see your character sheet.
*looks at sheet*
Kirk, you're at -79 hitpoints. The called shots alone would have severed your head. You're dead.
Kirk: No. I've got an adamantite spinal cord given to me by Lilith, goddess of the Drow!
DM: No you don't. That never happened!
Kirk: Well, I've got this ring that heals me to full hit points whenever I reach 0 hitpoints.
DM: Kirk, I told you to remove that!
Kirk: *gets all misty-eyed* Well, I've got a ioun stone that teleports me to safety whenever I fall unconsious.
DM: Kirk, Fabian is dead.
Party: Let's loot his corpse! Dibs on that ioun stone! I want his healing ring!
Kirk: *tears streaming down his face* THAT'S NOT FAIR! THEY CHEATED!
Party: BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!! GTFO Kirk!
Kirk left crying. A grown man reduced to tears over a piece of paper. I almost felt bad for him. But Kirk was the cancer that was killing D&D.
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