No, the rules are the rules.

Looking over at the shapely priestess of Saint Cuthbert you ponder what to do. You have always prided yourself on being a firm, but fair Dungeon Master, but you have also certainly gotten quite use to having the charming and well proportioned Ms. Sandra Morelli around. Deciding to play it straight, you figure that showing favoritism would not only offend the other players, but if you have read the attractive sophomore correctly, it would bother her too.

“Sandra,” you put on your official DM voice, “Rae, in her effort to quickly hide, stumbles into a stack of large wooden crates, which unfortunately for her are empty. They easily tumble about causing the other crates to noisily come crashing down, including knocking your character to the ground. This draws the majority of the guards attention, who come rushing towards the commotion. While still on the ground, you push a large crate off of you, and realize you are surrounded by several guards with swords drawn and crossbows at the ready. A large one, clearly a hardened veteran, who looks like he easily has a 18 something strength, growls at you, 'Surrender thief or be run through!'”

“Large one . . .” David gives out an intentional snicker. “Hardened. I would definitely go for the 'run through' option, princess.”

“Ragnar, you sense that the dark gods of divine intervention are becoming angry.” You give the party's thief a friendly warning, while being a bit concern that Sandra might think you were overtly using a double entendre.

“Can I at least role on the punishment tables for her?” David cannot help himself.

Looking at the unofficial jester you state, “Roll a d4 and 1d6.” After David complies you state, “While hiding in a darken alley a large chamber pot is dumped on you from a window five stories above you. Not only do you take three points of damage from the velocity and size of the excrement that hits you, but since the refuse is from the Mage's Guild it also has strange magical properties. You lose five points of Charisma and stink for one week.”

“Well shit.” David takes his correction, and the message, with his usual good nature.

“No.” Saul chimes in, “It's +1 cursed enchanted giant hardened shit.” Which brings a chuckle from everyone.

“Okay, okay, settle down,” you turn your attention to the hard-pressed cleric, “what does your character do?”

After looking over her spell and abilities list, Sandra quickly realizes there is little a 3rd level cleric could do, so she raises her hands above her head, going along with the good nature feel of the moment and announces, “I surrender, don't hurt me.”

The lifting of her arms, however, causes the buxom brunette's sizable chest to gently thrust up, straining at the confines of the conservative stylish gray dress t-shirt she wears. You try not to stare, as the abrupt silence from the other three men around the table means they are all noticing the same two things. You hear Vivian slap Brian on the shoulder for being too obvious. Again, your mind races on how you should play this out with four of your closest friends watching you coming dangerously close to ERPing (erotic roleplaying) with the sexy newest player.