Occasionally I laugh so hard and so long I get major head pain. Saturday night, one of my players was on it so much that I lost it laughing. I laughed till I was out of breath, then laughed some more.
The world is Warhammer, a decidedly grim and ruthless place. The players have taken on the roles of a group of thieves, thugs, and ne'er-do-wells recently come to seek refuge in The City of Middenheim. Their hometown was sacked and razed to the ground, so there is no returning home.
If this sounds like the criminal portion of some immigrant groups, it's bloody well meant to. They have been commiting many crimes, but killed very few (that weren't deservin' of a blade 'tween the ribs, anyway). The name of the overarching story, Greedy Little Bastards, is appropo, I think.
At any rate, two of the characters woke up in custody after a lengthy heist. Several things went wrong on the job, not least of which was the drugs administered to knock a few prostitutes out killing one of them. One of the group also knocked himself out. Getting the dosing right on this kind of thing is so difficult, don't you know. At any rate, much of the proceeds from the heist ended up having to go for bribes of the magistrate and such to secure the release of the two men taken into custody.
The halfling, the group's second-story man, and halfling with a plan for the heist, asked the rat-catcher he'd employed as a scout, "What were you thinking?"
The rat-catcher replied, "If you're going to be this upset every time a whore dies, I don't know what we're gonna do."
Now, I am not sure what killed in that statement, but God I had a laugh. Laughed till my head hurt.