Pre-game:
“That wouldn’t have flown in 1977.”
“It’s a good thing I play in 2012.”
“Well, you don’t…”
“Touche.”
“You have created a blizzard of angry, evil toothpicks.”
“The one that’s on you is going to grapple you to try to get your fucking backpack, because that’s where the bombs are, you fucking fire-throwing douche.”
“I would thrust bombs.”
“I would thrust bombs all day…”
“Your Majesty? How much do you trust your alchemist?”
“Not at all.”
“It was dead before I rolled the dice, wasn’t it?”
“No, it had two hit points left… and then you rolled 4 d10s…”
“Do the trees have any loot?”
“They could have low-hanging fruit…”
“We are not having a food fight with the trees’ low-hanging fruit.”
“These bulbous fruit are redacted.”
“Do we get, like, extra XP tonight? Because we have defeated the gamemaster…”
“So there’s the description, should anyone have been coherent enough to hear it.”
“All right. I put bear traps in my ears.”
“We only appreciate medically correct humor.”
“All right, you’re going to take a -2 penalty if you don’t shut your king up.”