The Ballad of Flynnigan Whitfieldingtonshiresworth

College is a time to try new things. Some people spend that time trying weird courses. Others spend that time experimenting with drugs and sex. Last semester, I tried Dungeons and Dragons. Now, I have a weekly Dungeons and Dragons night where some of my friends and I play a bit of a campaign and talk shit to one another. It’s like a poker night, but for NERRRRRRRRRRRRRDS.

We all have a “first something”, and that “first something” is always terrible yet, despite its numerous faults, it’s surprisingly charming. Whether it’s a car or a sculpture, we all have a “first something”. D&D is no exception. This week’s blog post is about my first D&D character.

Tonight, we’re going to hear the ballad…of Flynnigan Whitfieldingtonshiresworth (*guitar chord*, *rattlesnake noise*, *Jack Black scream*).

(The following story is as true as a D&D campaign’s story can be. Some parts have been omitted for the purpose of pacing and because they were boring. The rest of the story has been patched together from what I can remember)

Like all great, epic fantasy tales, the Balled of Flynnigan Whitfieldingtonshiresworth began when my character, a barbarian dwarf, an autistic psion (a psion is basically Professor X + Gandalf), a gnome, and an incompetent pirate all met at a timeshare condo. What? Real estate is expensive in the D&D universe!

We decide not to buy a timeshare, and instead formed a rock band a party for an epic quest. Our quest was to investigate some weird mumbo jumbo that had been happening recently. We marched off and arrived at a local Orc village, where we picked up some freaky-deaky magic reading. For those of you that are unfamiliar with Orcs, they do take kindly to non-Orcs. As a result, their villages are not known for tourism. Our group split up and wandered around the town, trying to gather information. Eventually, the village elder pulled us aside, surreptitiously, and told us that we should run now, lest we wanted hell’s entire demon population to appear and give us colonoscopies. So our group ran away, avoiding a Stephen King-esque storm that obliterated the town. The psion of the group pointed us towards a cave, where she believed the source of the evil waited for us.

Just as we were about to enter said cave, various evil guards, twirling their mustaches ambushed us! My team sprang into action and fought them…except for my character. It’s not that Flynnigan Whitfieldingtonshiresworth was a coward, mind you. It’s just that he’s useless. You see, Whitfieldingtonshiresworth was a bard. To put that into Pokémon terms, a bard in Dungeons & Dragons is about the same as a Magikarp; unless our quest was to seduce a bimbo princess or to win the local battle of the bands or to make sure my mom and dad fall in love at their high school dance, I’m better off in the back, strumming old 80s songs on my lute like “Take on me” and “99 Red Balloons”

However, since this was the first time I’ve played D&D, I did not know this, and I charged into battle with my longsword eqipped. We won the battle and I honestly believe that it was all because Whitfieldingtonshiresworth was so successful at swinging his sword around in the air, not hitting anything. He wasn’t the worst fighter. Honestly. The incompetent pirate character in our party literally shot himself in the foot. I did better that. I found a weird red dagger from one of the guards, and my party entered the cave.

Inside, we noticed the cave was filled with red crystals that seemed to be humming lauder the closer I held that red dagger I just found to it. Thinking that the humming was a clue. I stabbed the wall with my dagger. The wall exploded, and for the party members that turned their heads around, they could see my charred outline on the opposite wall. Lesson learned: humming = bad. We noticed chanting deep inside the cave, and as soon as we realized it, a monster from another dimension appeared before us and assimilated our gnome friend. The surviving party members ran towards the chanting, with one more of us being assimilated by the shapeless monster each turn.

The monster did not assimilate me. I let him assimilate me. I figured that if he assimilated me, I could destroy him from the inside out. That plan did not work. It turns out that when one is “assimilated”, one can do nothing but slowly have one’s body, mind, and soul be digested. I should have read the rules more carefully.

Luckily, the barbarian dwarf was able to outrun the monster and butchered the chanting sorcerers, who were enabling the monster to exist in our dimension. We had defeated a monster from another dimension. But we had not stopped the weird storms that were swallowing up people and towns.

Okay, granted, the first quest I mentioned made the legendary Flynnigan Whitfieldingtonshiresworth look like a little bitch. No argument from me. I completely agree. But here’s where it gets better and he becomes a legend.

Following a lead, my gang of misfits, found us in a mass grave, looking through various dead bodies. See? It’s already better. My character is actually helping this time. Rummaging through the corpses, one of the naked bodies came back to life and told us he can help us. Not having a better idea of what to do, we followed the naked man into a local cabin, which had the secret basement stairs under the rug ™ that leads us to yet another cave. The naked guy who was temporarily dead brightly glowed and then disappeared. None of us really cared. Frankly, if I can’t make a montage of all the memories we shared together, I’m not really going to care if you spontaneously combust.

In the cave, we battled various monsters until we reached the end of the cave. There were three corrupt royal guards around the corner; each one of their levels was 15, when our highest character was only at level 3.

Little tangent here: I’m going to assume you do not play D&D. I’m going to explain part of the rules briefly, so you can understand just how miraculous the things Flynnigan Whitfieldingtonshiresworth is about to do actually are. In D&D, before I do anything, from attacking, to peeing, to lying, I must roll a 20 sided die. If the number is high enough, the action is successful. If not, the action doesn’t happen. If I roll a 1, that means the worst possible thing happens (ex. I pee on a tree, which is actually a tree monster; my peeing on him woke him up and he ate me). If I roll a 20, then the best possible thing happens (ex. I pee on a tree, which was a magic tree that had a curse placed on him that made him sleep; my peeing on him broke the curse, and he granted me a special item). Make sense? I’m going to assume you’re nodding your head. Alright. Back to the story.

Flynnigan Whitfieldingtonshiresworth walked around the corner and told the guards confidently, “Hi. I’m the new intern for the royal guards.  Listen, so there’s a dead body around this corner. Could one of you help me move it out?” A guard volunteered himself (I rolled a 20), and he followed me around the corner where the rest of the party jumped him and killed him before he even knew what happened.

I returned to the guards and explained to them “Hi again. I’m not sure if you remember me, but I’m that intern from earlier. So, we’re having trouble moving the body up the secret basement stairs under the rug ™ and I was wondering if one of you might help us.” Another guard offered to help (I rolled another 20). He followed me, and just like before, we ambush him.

I returned to the last guard (who was the captain) one last time and I told him “Hi there. I you probably do not remember me, but I’m the intern. So, we’re still having trouble lifting the dead body up the secret basement stairs under the rug ™. Could you give us a hand?” He complied (I rolled 20, the third time in a row), when, surprise surprise, naked, not-dead dude shows up, made entirely out of light and punches the dude through the chest. He enlightens all of us by explaining what exactly all the recent mumbo jumbo was about: apparently, these corrupt guards had gotten some sorcerers (whom we had killed earlier) to cast a spell that killed people and absorbed their energy (which is what happened to the Orc village), giving the corrupt guards eternal youth. After killing the sorcerers, the transfer of life energy got distorted, and he got a bunch of it, thereby temporarily making him a demi-god. He then faded away.

Fully understanding what had happened, I did the only logical action: I stole the dying captain’s sword to see if it was better than mine. I was told I had stolen a Vorpal Sword, and several of my party members gasped and even cried “bullshit” (including the Dungeon Master, whose job is to run the campaign).

Remember how in D&D, one rolls a 20 sided die to do anything? If I roll a 20 when I’m attacking, I then roll again to confirm whether or not my attack was a critical hit. If I roll a 19 or 20, it’s a critical hit, meaning whatever die I roll to calculate damage, I roll an additional time. That’s not the case with the Vorpal Sword. If I roll a 20 while attacking someone with it, and then I roll either a 19 or 20, I behead the enemy. That means unless the enemy I’m fighting does not need a head to survive, and I roll a 20 and then a 19 or 20, I kill him instantly, no matter how much health he had. I like to imagine that the Vorpal Sword is what the Angel of Death wielded.

Not only had Flynnigan Whitfieldingtonshiresworth saved the world, he also got a badass weapon out of the whole journey. But what happened to the legend? Some say he went back and bought that timeshare. Others say he went off and formed the greatest rock and roll band in the entire D&D universe. One person says he tripped and fell, which caused a nearby rock to scratch the royal insignia off of the Vorpal Sword, thereby negating the sword’s special power. We don’t really know (there’s no way in hell the last thing actually happened), but whatever he’s doing, I’m sure he’s strumming his lute and singing softly to himself, “We can dance if we want to, we can leave your friends behind…”