The Tale of The Dwarven Cleric, or I Poke Him: 101 Stupid RP Tricks, Volume One.

lol

Please bear in mind: this was the first time I'd ever GMed, and it was also my first tabletop RPG session of any kind. Most of the players were either as green to RPGs as I was, or at the very least had minimal experience in the 3.5 system, which had been released less than a year earlier. In fact, I taught myself on the 3.0 core books and then had to read the 3.5 books shortly before the first session.

Sure

I set the game in the World of Air from the Death Gate Cycle novels. It was a hollow egg of a world, with floating rocky islands dry as parchment and the only source of water an eternal storm at the bottom of the world. We began play in a small unaligned bandit city.

Even then I was comfortable throwing out or changing the rules for the sake of a good scene, so when I saw that they had very little healing I gave the party a set of potions which, when imbibed, granted full healing after eight hours sleep.

One last note: my players enthusiastically embraced the house rule that natural 1s are automatic failures, and three in a row kill your character (natural 20s were auto-successes, and three in combat auto-killed your opponent, but guess which is going to be relevant in this story).

lol

So: we're maybe three sessions into the campaign. Still level 1. Mostly RP, a little fighting, and the goblin rogue stole the mayor's money and took a leak on his front door. The Lawful Good dwarven cleric is being played by a guy who desperately wants to throw himself into RP, but is overwhelmed by the mechanics of playing a spellcaster and has some peculiar ideas about RP for his character.

"I've got a few hours before my meeting with the mayor. I put on my full plate, pick up my shield and mace, and wander through the city looking for ways I can help people."

I have him assist the local blacksmith, rescue a kitten from a tree, and help an old lady across the road before I give him what he really wants: "I want to rescue people from a burning building."

The dwarf finds and carries out a little girl, who screams that her mom is still inside on the second floor. He runs back in, coughing and soot-covered, and passes out in front of the woman, who hauls him out by his ankles just before the building collapses.

Nice GM

(I didn't want to kill him!)

He's at 1 hit point, singed and burned and has a nasty smoke-inhalation cough when he wakes up, but at least nobody stole his bag of stuff! He puts his armor back on, realizes he's now late for the meeting with the mayor, and runs all the way across the city. At noon. In a desert. In full plate. At 1 hp.

huhuhuh

Unfortunately the mayor has cancelled all appointments that day because someone took a leak on his door in the middle of the night, and stole his money, and he's apoplectic. So the severely burned, still-coughing dwarf heads back to the inn. All the way across the city in the noon-day desert heat. In full plate. At 1 hp. Yes, he's a cleric. Yes, I asked why he didn't heal himself. I can't remember his answer.

At this point I probably should have been calling for Fortitude saves or something vs the heat, but it was my third-ever session so I was just noting the situation and figuring he'd hit the sack and heal up before it was something I needed to act on.

The crispy fried dwarf arrives at the inn, panting and covered in sweat and still at 1 hp. He goes straight to bed, but first he chugs two of my homebrew healing potions. You know, the one that cure you of all that ails you after a good night's rest?

Yup

lol

I figure I'll have him make a Fort save and take Con damage or something --I hadn't quite figured out what but I want there to be some consequence. I'm still pondering this a moment later when the monk pops into the room.

oh no

The group erupts with groans, jeers, catcalls, and whoops. The monk's player declares his finger to be a Vorpal Death Finger.

lol

[1.]

OH no!!!

I throw my hands up in the air, the dwarf seizes up and dies, and the player rolls a new character: a dwarven cleric with exactly the same stats, gear, and appearance, except his hair is brown instead of black. This dwarf goes on to be slaughtered by his own party after betraying them (leading to one character's death) to a nice lady who gave him tea.

I thought you were going to have another death there

And that is The Story of the First Time a Character Died in One of My Campaigns, and Also the Second.