Context: PCs we’re a drunken dragonborn, a poison loving rouge, and a highly modified Warforged named Tick-Tock(me). Our DM hated that everything he threw at us, my character found the stupidest way of winning. We raided a goblin stronghold located in an abandoned mine being led by a warlock elf. We found the warlock in a rune circle that healed him every round to full health and does 3d10 damage to anyone else in the room.
(Entire party sitting in the hallway as we are all melee fighters and our ranger bailed on us)
DM: (SMUGLY) So are you guys going to finish this quest or what?
Me: …there was an armory in the other room right?
Rouge: yeah but it’s all Garbo. I mean we can use the Javelins to try and chip away but he heals so quickly. There’s also slings with rocks and glue pots but that’s weaker.
(Me thinking for a second before laughing out loud)
Me: hold my beer moment guys. BRB.
Grab rope from my pack and tie it to the end of the Javelin. Tie three glue pots to the point end and return to the doorway.
Me: I’m gonna call shot for the chest of the warlock.
(Rolls 18+3 -2 for calling the chest)
DM: ok you hit.
Me: so it’s in his chest?
DM: yeah but he heals and the Javelin falls out.
Me: but the glue pots stuck to him. And those are attached to the Javelin.
DM: Tick-Tock what are you doing?
Me: … I’m yanking that SOB out of the room.
DM: (chokes on Mtn dew) um strength check… I hate you so much.
DM: Fu*k… No. Seriously no. COME ON! FINE! he’s in the hallway, on his back.
Me: Crushing his head with my Maul.
(Rolls nat20) head explodes.
My dm stood up, walked out to the garage and didn’t come back in for 20 minutes. All we heard was quiet weeping and a string of obscenities.