I'm a Wizard!

I died forty-five minutes ago. Perhaps I should start from the beginning. 

We sat down at the table to play a little bit of Dungeons and Dragons when Biggboy looked over at me and said, "Let's all play something we've never played before." Now eEveryone got all excited about the prospect of playing some kookie class like a Truename Mage or a Dread Necromancer while I just sat there looking at my Player's Handbook and tried to remember why I hate magic users so much. So as they're pulling out books and giggling to themselves about how cool it's going to be to play a Stonechild Freemason I'm rolling stats. Me? I'm playing a fucking wizard.

9 - Strength

12 - Dexterity

7 - Constitution

14 - Intelligence

10 - Wisdom

16 - Charisma

A 7? Really? Who rolls a fucking 7?

Anyway, I'm flipping pages and building a wizard because I've never played one. Poot is leaning over my shoulder and trying to help me not fuck this up because while everyone else is playing some class I've never heard of I'm the only one slumming it with the basics. Don't get me wrong, I'm grateful for his help because I honestly don't know how to build a wizard for 3.5, let alone any other edition. So he's telling me about components and Concentration checks and I'm trying to figure out if there's someone at the table I can con into buying me full-plate. 

See I've always enjoyed playing combat classes so as I'm building my 2 hit point wizard I keep muttering to myself that there has to be a way to keep myself alive through this night's session. I pick up a sling, dagger and attempt to con Poot into loaning me 50 gd so that I can buy Padded Leather Armor and have a little breathing room in my fictional financial situation, but there seems to be something really interesting on the ceiling that's absorbed him and I decide to let the loan go.

The game starts and we're in this old, abandoned tomb where some dead guy long ago got burried for being really fucking awesome. We're here to kick open his dirt stained door and take all his plunder - because tombs are always filled with plunder. The party of five consists of two pseudo-fighter/mage hybrids with different class names, one wizard/cleric combo who's name makes me think of disentary, a thief/wizard combo that sounds like it came straight out of someone's fan fic, and me, a fucking wizard with 2 hp. 

Now everyone else is kicking open doors and talking in loud, booming voices while I'm making sure that I'm stuck right in the middle with my knife in one hand and my sling in the other. Well it doesn't take long before Bullhorn the Mighty and her door busting foot attracts the attention of seven wraiths. Now everyone's casting spells and swinging weapons like two year olds in the ball pit at McDonald's and I'm creeping back down the hall having left my dagger in one of the pseudo-fighter/mage hybrid's thigh after my third natural 1 of the night.

What the am I doing. Wizards are fucking useless!

"Have you thought about casting a spell?" Poot asked me.

Oh? I guess I could cast one. Eat Light you bitches! That's when we found out about the Grell who'd been sneaking up on me. Like I said, I died forty-five minutes ago.