Let’s get this party started.
Mano y Mano
Me against You
My THAC0 is low, and your Armor Class is high
Get your dice ready, and prepare to die
Your lack of creativity appalls me
(let me guess a big barbarian with an Austrian accent and a two-handed sword named, Bonan)
Roll for initiative.
Yikes! I go first.
Step aside, and watch the master.
I rolled a twenty, bitch
That’s a critical hit.
Not shabby for an itty bitty long sword
Hate to see what carnage is released by my twelve-sided die
A deadly Dodecahedron
Inscribed with numbers.
Ouch! I maxed it out.
Twelve times two equals twenty-four
Two more points, and you go nighty-night
Pray for a cleric when you reach Death’s Door
Your turn, slug
You move like a tortoise with rigamortis
Roll your twenty, and don’t fuck up
Tisk, tisk, rolled a one
Oops, looks like a fumble
That’s the last time you’ll call me a tree-huggin’, dandelion-eating, cucumber-suckin elf lover. What’s sad is most of your kind are created by the evil act of a human female being violently impregnated by a hideous orc. But YOU exist because your Dad was so vile and disgusting, he could ONLY FUCK ORCS!!
Suck my steel, you son of a motherless goat!
Quinntoth Winterloc of Tanterbahn, son of Avin
(half-elf, male, 6th Level Bard)
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