(The party walks into their favorite inn, and finds newcomers are at the tables, enjoying a drink)
Rogue: I wanna do a hotness check
Rogue: I want to do a Perception check, but to see who the hottest person in the room is
DM: Everyone looks pretty rough but there’s one guy who catches your eye. Longer, dark hair - a little too long for your taste, but he makes it work. Stubble, not a beard, but a fairly defined jaw, and bright eyes. He’s playing with a dagger at the table
(Cut to months later, after she & aforementioned fellow rogue became each other’s regular hookup, the party walks into a Society of Adventurers mansion)
Rogue: I wanna do a hotness check. I rolled a 26
DM: Okay - (goes on to describe a beautiful Drow woman and a fairly rugged, Jeffrey-Dean-Morgan style human male)
Rogue: Nice. I’m filing that away for later.
(Cut to many months later, the party has been through a gruelling experience on a carnivorous island with quicksand, tangling vines, Will o Wisps, corrupted Treants, etc. On the journey they met a talking skeleton whose body is animated by a magical curse, and moves around by vines that intertwine about his bones. He promises to guide them to the other side of the forest if they take him with them, as leaving the forest ends his curse and lets him finally die. Half the party thinks he’s going to betray them or turn out super evil, the other half likes him. They’ve been travelling with him for days, narrowly avoiding a hag coven and a green dragon thanks to his guidance, when they finally reach the other side)
Rogue: I grab his arm and lead him through the last of the trees, into the open field.
DM: As you do, you take one step, two steps into the open. For a moment, it feels like nothing is going to happen. But then - it comes with a low whistle that sounds so far away, but grows closer rapidly as the wave of energy that rips along the tree line finally hits with a blast that throws you off your feet when it reaches him beside you. You watch as the vines grow tight, creaking around the bones as they wither, then each vine begins to splinter and crack as he staggers forward, to his knees, to his hands on the ground- he reaches out one last time, in a gesture of thanks
Bard: Oh god, it’s really over
DM: The bones clatter against each other as they fall to the earth, the vines now powder and dust
Rogue: (After a brief silence) I guess we should camp for the night. Its getting dark and we’re pretty tapped
DM: (making quiet heartbeat noises under the conversation)
DM: On the ground, the bones, you notice, have begun to shake. Its only a moment before they begin to turn red, then pink, as a grotesque line of slick, bloodied flesh and tissue sprouts and wraps around each of them in turn - like crimson, wet, skinned snakes, writhing and grasping as each joins on to the other pieces -
Bard: Oh god what the fu-
DM: A body begins to take shape, thrashing on the ground – you watch, horrified, dumbfounded as the skeleton is consumed by this pink and scarlet writhing flesh that builds on itself, squirming in long strips, flecking the grass underneath it with smears of crimson red. You begin to see, at last, after minutes of this display – pale white flesh in strips spreads across the muscle and tissue, stark in comparison to the pink and purple and red beneath it. Soft brown hair sprouts on the arms, the legs, the chest of this fleshy mass, bent over itself, clutching itself as it grows. A loud, desperate, rasping gasp rolls out of his mouth as it finishes taking form and his head throws back, lips just turning pink, long dark hair thrown away from his face, which you can see in detail now just as eyeballs bulge up to fill the empty sockets. The first thing you notice, even in your horror and shock, as he sits there, crumpled, gasping for air, is that he is very - very - naked-
Bard: I think I’m gonna be sick
Fighter: I’m keeping my eyes on him to see if he moves
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