<Monk and Paladin walk…oh you get the idea.>
Monk: You look like you’re in charge here
General <Looking not happy about being interrupted>: That would be my good fortune. However did you guess, aside from the banners and people calling me “General”?
Paladin: “See, I told you he was the general!”
General: “Is there a point to you two aside from bad comedy?”
Paladin: “We’re here to help!”
General: “…just…how do you plan to do that?”
Paladin: “Monk hits real good and I get hit real good”
General: “Anything else?”
Monk: “Hmm…nope. He feels no pain, and I dish it out in interesting ways, that about covers it.”
General: “Well, as you may notice if you look overhead, our problem is a bit long distance and airborne, so unless you have some distance weapons, you’re kind of useless”
Paladin: “Monk could throw me! He can throw anything”
General: “…really now.”
Monk: “Well, yes, I probably could, but then he’d be rather far away, and he doesn’t deal a lot of damage on his own. And he runs faster than an Otyugh. Barely. So it would take him forever to get back here.”
General: “Not a lot of damage? even with that sword?”
Monk: “Not unless the dragon runs onto it several times of its own accord. Paladin only carries it because that’s what Paladins have. They have swords. He is a Paladin, he has a sword. His real value centers on nothing being able to possibly hit him hard enough to hurt him, much less actually damage him.”
General: “I get all the winners. Well, how about you?”
Monk: “I have shuriken. They’re returning, very nice, but face it, the dragon would die of old age before I killed him with a small circle of metal, even a magical returning one.”
General: “Too bad you can’t stick it into his armor, then you might be useful. Oh well. If you happen to know where I can get some…what are you doing?”
Lots and lots of hammering noises, with Paladin giggling. As Paladin is a warforged, it’s a rather disconcerting sound. Especially as he is face down in the mud while Monk is straddling him while doing what looks like punching him in the back over and over.
Paladin: “MONK! THAT TICKLES! YOU SAID YOU’D NEVER TICKLE ME IN FRONT OF OTHER PEOPLE!”
Monk: “I’m” PUNCH “Not” PUNCH “Tickling” PUNCH “You!” PUNCHPUNCHPUNCH. “There.” He hops off of Paladin. “Okay Paladin, stand up”
Paladin stands up, and shows the now largeish group clustered around the latest addition to his armor: the shuriken that has been beaten into his back plates.
Paladin: “Monk, what did you do?”
Monk: “Well, I can throw you, and I can throw shuriken, and you don’t return, well not quickly, but shuriken do return quickly…oh good, I didn’t use the acid one.”
Paladin: “I’m a shuriken?”
Monk: “Yes, you are now the world’s biggest shuriken.”
Paladin: “YAAAAAY! I AM THE BIGGEST SHURIKEN!!!!”
Monk: “General, you and your men better give me some room here”
General: “I have no idea what is going on, two loonies are beating each other up, and there’s still the dragon. Sure. Men, give the nutter room”
Monk bends over and grabs paladin by the feet. “Hold your shield over your head!” he says, then yanks Paladin off his feet and commences to spinning him around. The soldiers are giving him ALL THE ROOM. With a grunt, he lets go. As Paladin flies at the dragon, complete with fading “WHEEE!!! I’M A SHURIKEN! WHEEEE!!!”, Monk stands there and waits, with one ear cocked. In a few seconds a loud, albeit faint “KLONNNNG” followed by a very surprised and painful dragon roar echoes across the battlefield. not long after, Paladin’s “WHEEEE!!!” can still be heard, only getting louder. Quickly. As if he was flying back at Monk. Which he is.
Monk: “you should probably all get out of his way. Those things move fast on the way back”
At this point, the soldiers are diving out of the way, expecting Paladin to paste Monk, given the size differences. Monk doesn’t even try to get out of the way. All the soldiers duck and wince as Paladin come sailing back at Monk’s outstretched hand and…nothing. No screams, no impact, just Paladin madly giggling and yelling “DO IT AGAIN! DO IT AGAIN!”. The general looks up to see Monk’s hand in the middle of Paladin’s back, balancing him there effortlessly.
Monk: “Well, if I can catch a razor sharp throwing star that bursts into flame on impact or acid or whatever and it doesn’t do that when I catch it, then logically, that should apply even if it’s nailed into Paladin’s back. One second…”
Monk flings Paladin at the dragon again. WHEE! KLONG! ROAR! followed by ever-increasing streams of dragonese profanity.
Monk: “Well, it’s a good thing he’s already evil. Such language.”
General: <Just stares, slackjawed. As are the other soldiers. Because…wtf.>
Eventually, after 4–5 throws, the Dragon flies off, a bit limpy in the wings, muttering angrily to itself. Something about:
“Screw this, I’m going to take that gig as a spelljammer tow truck my cousin offered me. Illithids aren’t as fucked up as whatever the hell that giggling…nope, nope, nope.”
General: “I don’t want to know how that worked. Ever. I don’t want to talk to either of you ever again. For once, I sympathize with the dragon. I’m going to go home, get really drunk, then retire and do something more sane. Like raising Beholders.”
Monk: “Um…I hate to raise the point, but those shuriken aren’t cheap…”
General: “Payroll wagon’s that one that used to have guards around it. whatever’s in it is yours. Just go away and never let me see either of you two again.
Monk & Paladin: “YAY!!!!”