I've just finished DMing my first real campaign! It was called, I suppose, Neverhood, because the party all lived in the Hive, in a collection of streets called the "Neverhood". I could never pull off a story hour, but we had so many good moments I thought you might like to read 'em!
Saint Elsewhere, a aasimar "cleric of freedom" that was brought up in Xaos: Zombies, zombies, everywhere. But not a drop to drink.
St. Elsewhere: Aren't the streets beautiful tonight, little fish?
Kit, a Prime wild elf rogue/barbarian princess: No, I hate Sigil. Unnatural.
St. Elsewhere: Oh come now-
St. Elsewhere: K-
St. Elsewhere & Kit about to question a orc strapped to a chair.
St. Elsewhere: It might hurt.
Kit: It will hurt.
St. Elsewhere: You may cry.
Kit: You will cry. It won't help.
Kit picks up a spoon, a spoon, and the orc tells them everything.
St. Elsewhere: By the beard of Zeus! It's a beholder!
Kit: Point me to the best stabbin' place.
St. Elsewhere: Well, the eye I suppose... Hey!
Kit charges the beholder.
Tiktak, a bladeling fighter: Say, I bet the Lady of Pain is a Blade Lor-
Tiktak was ripped apart by unknown forces.
Ronny, a human rogue with simple needs: Listen up berks, lets do this in a orderly fashion. You run at us, you die, I take your stuff.
A poisoned arrow hits him in the shoulder.
Ronny: You're doing it wrong!
Ronny: This Kit, is a cigar. It is what we of Sigil call, pimptacular.
Later, with a cigar in her mouth.
Kit: I am pimptacular! Fear me, orc scum!
Tarantula, a surprisingly un-charming incubus wizard: You are much less ugly than I was told.
St. Elsewhere: I was a choir girl as a child, I still love singing.
Tarantula: I took the form of a choir girl once. Do you want to know why?
St. Elsewhere & Ronny: No!
A crazed, blood-covered Chaosman: Aback at aback ataback back-back abck ka rrrrrrrrrrrr. Eh!
St. Elswhere: Oh gosh, tell me about it.
Brom the righteous Anarch: Down with the Doomguard! Those villians have no place in Sigil society!
Many Doomguards marching around the market place stop and turn their heads.
Ronny: Damn! A bloody dragon! Oh of all things a dragon!
Kit: Point me to the best stabbin' place.
Brom: Go for it's dragon balls!
Elsewhere: Collect seven and you get a wish!
During the battle with the red dragon Tarantula is knocked out by it's flames.
Elsewhere: Oh darn it!
Kit: We have to retreat! It's power level is over nine thousand!
St. Elsewhere when asked if she had a tale to tell on "Story Night" at the Smouldering Corpse: Once when I was a child I saw a pram being pushed by a tired looking old hag, the pram was full of dead mice.
St. Elsewhere: No, no, that’s all there is to that story.
Ronny: Sometimes Elsewhere, you're as crazy as a Xaositect!
Tarantula: Aye. Like a slaadi in heat!
Kit: You've...seen one in heat, haven't you?
Tarantula: 'Course, I was why it was in heat.
Ronny: And you! You are as sick as a...oh wait, you are a demon, nevermind.
Brom: Kit, what is best in life?
Kit: Knowing the best stabbing place.
Thongol the Mighty Destroyer, a one time played lizardfolk duskblade: What's that evil shambling zombies? You what to die properly? Yes, I'm sure thats what you are saying.
Some quotes from me the DM
"They are drunk, as is expected of young, educated men." Describing some clerks when asked why they are stood outside the Smouldering Corpse.
The oddly sane at times, current, as in this years, Xaositects factol, Mr. Pattern: It is not where you are from. It is where you are going, that truely matters. Oh, and remember, no matter where you are, there you go.
Mr. Pattern: Everything is in chaos, and yet nothing is chaos, there is only layer upon layer of complexity.
Mr. Pattern: While I often do quite impossible things; I still feel terrible when I wake up in the morning and my mouth feels all, all yack, until I've had my morning coffee, so feel free to sit down and ask me some questions. I'm not a Power, in fact I have a few friends that tell me Powers aren't Powers either.
Tellios Sharpsplinter, a sensate: Oh piss off, I've experienced more than enough berks in my lifetime.
Smiley Face, a loopy rogue modron: Beef, shaped like doves. Water, shaped like doves. Tears, shaped like doves. Hands, shaped like doves.
Wheels-within-Wheels, a sane, if equally rogue, modron: If I faith in a Power, I would no longer.
Smiley Face: Drizzt Do'Urden...*a long pause* shaped like dooooves. Click.
Baron Ithin Headstone, the oldest lich in Sigil, though he has been slowly waining in power for centuries: It is, basically, lying to the universe.
Just like ordinary lies, once you start making strange ones, you have to keep making them. That is vulgar magic.
By the end of a wizard’s career he is a mess; a patchwork of uncountable lies. Teeth like iron and eyes like cats and hair like copper wire and skin green as a cucumber. Internal organs rearranged to explain to the universe why you still survive after all those wounds, all those heavy years.
Intimidation doesn't work very well on the Baron: I myself could make no guesses. It was very long ago, and I was not there.
Baron Ithin: There are no means of preventing death, but you can hinder it, obstruct it.
You can hide from it feasibly; run is a better term I imagine. And while death may be slow, it never grows weary, it will find you, it will catch you.
Possibly because it was never looking, never chasing, it was always there with you, and in truth, you only ever get a lifetime, regardless of how long that may be.
Baron Ithin, upon finally dieing: I dream of a land, a kingdom, with stalwart knights and cunning rogues, with wisped witches and veiled princesses, and a hermit on very single mountain top.
A barkeep named Skruff: Ah jus' sells booze, I dunno nuffin' 'bout nuffin.
Perhaps more to come as I remember them.