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Poetry

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Not Veeky Forums but still.

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I wanna hear the story behind this one.

It's... not looking good...

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I'm sorry, user. You can tell me about your setting if it helps.

Rogue Trader is fun.

It's a world that was built by dragons, which are like minor primordial gods. A necromancer is trying to bring a dead malicious archdragon back to life, but the power requirements mean he needs to kill a living dragon, the guardian of the isles, to do so.
The players have had clues to all this handed to them so often and blatantly that it's wrong to even call them clues, but they still don't seem to understand the relevence of the assassin creatures that have been trying to kill the guardian, and they seem to be under the impression that if they walk around for long enough instead of actually speaking to anyone or looking for answers, the solution will appear.

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If that's the case, why not just let it happen and have the players deal with it?

If they say 'we had no chance to stop it' pull up all the clues you gave

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You don't understand, they've killed the assassins, they're just not putting the pieces together and realising that the horrible ghoul monsters work for the necromancer that needs dragon power to power his dragon.
Next session I'm going to have there be another attempt on the dragon's life, this time I think I'm going to just have the assassins jump in and tell them who they work for like cartoon henchmen.

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The party's northern viking-ass Barbarian kept antagonizing the Halfling barkeep in the setting's equivalent of fleabottom, the scummiest part of the capital.
It became a running joke that we'd get our drinks and board for free and any time he'd ask for payment the barbarian would lift him up in the air and pull some junior shit on him. You know, stuffing him in a barrel, perching him on a bookshelf, one time straight up threw him up and down until he grabbed hold of a rafter. General superpowered school-bully level antics.

We all thought it was a harmless bit of fun. The barbarian was kind of a dick, but it fit his character, and the barkeep was kind of a weedly money-grubbing shit who stole from passed out clients.

Fair's fair right?

Well after warning us again and again that he used to be a "big man" in organised crime and that he knew people that could "cause you big trouble", he finally came through last session.

We were trying to smuggle some poor sap out of the city as a favour to a rich-dude who could get us on the list for jobs in the nice part of town. (The sap slept with a nobleman's daughter or something. Dm kept dodging the question.)
Anyway, we've got this guy to the edge of the town, and we get him saddled up and ready to go, when all of a sudden a crossbow bolt slams into the guy's neck and the surrounding populace goes nuts.

Halflings pop outta nowhere (Lightfoots can hide really well in crowded areas) and form a half circle around us with the town wall to our backs. Most had daggers, but there were a few perched in windows or alleyways with shortbows, and the fucking barkeep was sat on an archway with a hand crossbow.

The DM called the session there. He seems really amused with himself.
The Barb wants to go ham and kill the lot of them, but I think it'll be safer to try and run.

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TO SAVE OUR MOTHER EARTH FROM ANY ALIEN ATTACK