Jefe: I start singing inspiring battle hymns. General chorus of "Indiana Jones" theme.
Jefe: So if it's slowed, does that mean I get attacks of opportunity? GM: No, that just means it's poky.
Me: I'm not on crack any more, because crack fucks me up.
Me: I take the corpse's foreskin. David: I reincarnate it. Angel: You can't. It's Jewish now. Much later, on reading of quotes, David: I get it.
David: What is it with you and doors?
Me: I'm making myself so interesting to the DM that he'll keep me alive just to see what the fuck I'll do next. Angel: In the meantime, you're really scaring the other drow.
David: Since when do lizards have boobs?
Angel: 11. Me: 20. Jefe: I have to make a save, what?
David: I am my own scroll of change self.
Angel: I cast Mordenkainene's Card Catalog.
Angel: Someone enlighten the daft man.
GM (ah, the wonders of pre-genned random dungeons): That I wouldn't bother going down because - oh, my god, what the fuck? Okay, there's no door there.
Me: We walk along in the glorious anticipation of a door.
GM: You see an alcove. Angel: A senile cove? (Read it out loud, it makes sense.)
GM: And you take the door. Me: Right there, in the hallway, we take the door. Jefe: Full Metal Jacket.
Bri: No, no, wait. Let me guess. We see another door.
Jefe: And I will do some damage to it, which I will proceed to relate to you as soon as I find a bloody freakin' 8-sided die.
David: I didn't think it (the builder) can just gatling-gun you with its eyes. Angel (to me): Can you hand me that gatling - errh, cushion - by your knees?
Bri: (sneezes) David: Gawoomba! James: What? David: You heard me. Me: Gawoomba! It's Aboriginal for "is that mucus on your fingers?"
David (singing): Q is for quickie, that's good enough for me...
Angel: I is not real! I is not real!
Me: Have you ever rubbed a beholder on your hair - GM: - and stuck it to the wall?
Me: Holy shit, we're on our second round of combat? Angel: What, did you quadruple the hit points? GM: Basically.
David: I want a staff I can do damage with instead of turning it into a tree. Angel: Stick it up its ass, then turn it into a tree. James: Ow! Splinter!
nostalgic 