"Brett, what fucking shit is this?"
It was Brett's DM. "Your bard is named Julius, and he plays the maracas? C'mon. And look at those stats! They're either godly or shitty, I can't tell which."
Brett stared at his DM. "So?" he asked. "If you'll consult my sourcebook -" he rifled through the pages. "Here," he announced, and pointed. "Maracas are a perfectly valid bard instrument."
"Not in my setting! Did you even read the campaign materials?"
Brett shifted in his chair. The other players reached for the Cheetos.
"Well, NO, but I skimmed." was his final reply.
The DM sighed, and passed a hand through his hair. "Fine. Have your fucking Julius. Does he have any more third-party gimmicks I need to know about?"
Brett shifted, again. "Yeah. Yeah, Julius does."
The DM grimaced. "And what," he hissed, "would those be?"
"He, um... He has sex with things."
The DM nearly fell out of his chair. "What?" he spluttered. "WHAT? What the fuck? WHY?"
Brett shifted some more. "A plus ten," he admitted.
and den julius had secks wit dem.