Scene: Conan inside a dark crypt, making camp
DM:By the light of your fire, you can just make out
the form of human remains, standing in alcoves along the
Conan:What, like a crypt?
DM:Yes. All manner of skeletons, in different
states of decay, litter the floor and decorate the walls.
Conan:Oh crap! Undead!
Conan:Is this the "Tomb of Horrors"? I've heard about
that. Maybe I should roll up a thief and cleric.
DM:No. Just, look. It's a bunch of motionless skeletons
in a small crypt. You don't feel any evil nearby. Sheesh. You
don't even have a weapon.
Conan:Oh, right. I grab a burning log from the fire to
use as a club.
DM:By the light of the fire, you can make out the form
of an ancient king's remains, still sitting on his throne, and
wearing his burial armor and sword.
Conan:I carefully approach the big guy. Maybe I can sneak
attack before he wakes up.
DM:It's just a very dead man. He won't move.
Conan:I don't believe you. I attack!
DM:Whatever. The skeleton collapses.
Conan:Yes! I won! With two hit points left!
Conan:I loot the armor!
DM:It's rusted beyond use.
Conan:And let me guess - the sword is a bastard sword
in perfect condition. Fine. I take the stupid sword.
Conan:CONAN TAKES VENGANCE!
DM:I suggest you rest first.