“I try to break out of the stocks.” He had been waiting all session for combat, trying to pick fights with anyone who threw him shade, and here he was watching combat helplessly from the stocks.

This moment had me in stitches on Sunday morning in my weekly D&D game. I don’t think I’m speaking too far out of turn here when I say Joe plays D&D mostly for the combat portions. Well, that and the character names, including such gems as Lon Geshaught the archery ranger, Ken Barbie the barbarian, and Noah Stradamus the divination wizard.

That session had been heavy on the roleplaying. There hadn’t been any combat at all, and very few die checks. Looking to stir something up, Joe decided to try destroying the town’s stocks that had been used for morally questionable reasons recently, which ended up in him getting put in the stocks himself, with the party standing by watching.

The party left him there and went to attend the festival, and Joe tried, in vain, to break out of the stocks. During the parade, a fight broke out in front of the stocks. Finally, combat! Joe was excited, but… there he was, still in the stocks, struggling to get out, never to meet the high DC I had silently set. It was the perfect picture of agonizing irony.

Fortunately for Joe, Andy picked the lock after a couple of rounds, and Joe was able to join the fray. I even ruled that the guards hadn’t stripped him of his gear, and let Joe have his weapons. I’m just such a nice guy, I suppose, but not nice enough not to experience a fair helping of schadenfreude.