In the Pathfinder game we're currently running, the party dwarf suffered fatal strength damage down in the underdark.
We only had a short amount of time to figure out a way to resurrect him, we were in a room with three scrying pools, two were burned out, only one remained, it was up to the sorceress (ME) to scry and find a way to resurrect him.
I roll to scry.
The flash blinds me, DM says to try again, have the bard watch the pool for an answer.
Panic sets in, the bard is blinded, the dice is taken as far away from me as possible, and my head drops to the table, muttering.
I can't believe I Holkinsed.
Now, of all the times to do so.
Luckily, I had one last chance to scry, with the Druid watching the pool, I rolled a 7, for one horrible second, we thought it was another one, but quickly calmed down, because my spell craft was high enough for a 7 to be sufficient, we found the princely barding, the NPC unicorn who joined us the previous session teleported the dwarf and the druid to the surface and the dwarf was resurrected with 5 seconds remaining.
Meanwhile, the Sorcerer and the bard are down in the underdark, blind, waiting.
The NPC fighter the king sent with us kept watch while we slept, unfortunately, the bard failed a will save and became possessed, slitting the guards throat and stabbing me in the gut, my immediate reaction is to reach out and use shocking grasp on my attacker.
And, of course, NOW I roll a 20.
The critical is confirmed, and the bard is negative hit points.
Dwarf and Druid get back to us and long story short (TOO LATE), I need to make a will save since I almost killed the bard.
And I break down into uncontrollable sobs.
That's not the end of the session. But the end of the story, for now.
Maybe some other time, I'll tell you about when the dwarf intentionally got swallowed by a giant frog.
But I'll leave you with this, one of the first realizations I have after pulling a Jerry is the fact of my real initials.
It was fate.