Dead Tired Side Story Thing - Second try! 

Second try! 

Last one... felt off? Idk, I just don’t like the idea of making the characters of the story ‘not real’ in the metanarrative, even if it’s just as a one-off gag chapter?

Anyway, let’s give it another go!

***

“Alright, I’m here,” the Limpet said as she entered the room. In the grand tradition of the game, someone had to arrive late. It was only right.

“Ah, what kept you waiting? This should be a fantastic learning opportunity for you.”

At the moment I had requisitioned one of the nicer rooms in the main sect building that the Limpet had turned into the centre of her fledgeling government. With some assistance from Alex, the drab meditation room had been turned into something a little more cozy. The brazier in the corner was lit, filling the room with a warm glow, and a few lanterns hanging from the vaulted ceiling provided more light. 

A large, smooth-surfaced table took up the centre of the room, with several chairs around it. There were several loose sheets on the table, as well as a large map laid out in the centre with a few carvings of small homes and even a few small, moving figures. They had been teeth recently, but a bit of transmutation and some clever necromancy.

I couldn’t decide if they should be called tooflings or enamites. 

“Sorry,” the Limpet said. She looked around the room, taking in the people within. Alex was to my right, and past the maid was Rem and then Mem, finally, Seventeen was sitting on my left, which left an empty seat for the Limpet to his left. “Just... lots of political things going on at the moment.”

“You know, if you’re always late, your fledgeling nation will start to copy your example, and then what you’ll have is a... procrasti-nation! Oh-hoho!”

“Urgh.” the Limpet groaned. “Master, please.”

Ah, the simple joys in life. “Very well. Before each of you is a sheet! I created it very carefully based on observations of your persons both mundane and magical. Next to these, die, of several sorts and values.”

The Limpet frowned and picked up a cute little dodecahedron and turned it this way and that, examining its twenty sides.

Mem poked one of her die and it rattled across the table. A twelve! Not bad.

“Is this a stupid game?” Rem asked.

“No, it’s a smart and clever game, but also an abstraction!” I said.

Rem stared at me, and I suspected she wasn’t familiar with the term. She was also unfamiliar with asking what something meant when she didn’t know its meaning. 

“That means that the game represents reality in some small way. Chess is a war game meant to teach the basics of strategic thinking, and this is merely an extremely complex version of that.”

“What is it called?” the Limpet asked.

“Dungeons & Disinterment. It was quite popular in my day,” I said.

Seventeen nodded. “Every young boner loved a good weekend session of active roleplay.”

The look that crossed the Limpet’s face was not terribly encouraging, but this was mostly for her benefit... and because I found it funny, but also for her, so I didn’t want her to be too disinterested. “Your character sheet has your actual stats on it, and your spell-list is like your own. Think of it as a way to safely experience scenarios where you can use your abilities to their greatest effect, without the cost of actually leaving your home and adventuring and perhaps getting stabbed for the trouble.”

“Oh,” the Limpet said. “Yes, that does sound nice.” She reached over and poked the tiny figurine of herself who cowered away from the Limpet’s finger without leaving its little round base.

The tiny wooden figurine teetered, then righted itself with a little shake, one arm raised in what could generously be interpreted as a gesture of mild protest.

“I love her,” Mem whispered. She’d picked up her own miniature and was holding it carefully. Her miniature waved back, which was better than the immediate murderous attitude of Rem’s miniature on the table. “And I like these,” Mem added. She tapped a die with the end of a scythe, ending it rolling off the edge of the table.

I tilted to the side to see the result. “Unfortunate,” I said solemnly. “It appears you’ve failed a reflex save against poor decision-making.”

“That’s just called being awake,” Rem muttered.

“Indeed. Now, let’s start... you are all in a tavern.” I gestured, and all the miniatures moved, the map shifted, and the little houses spread across the table twisted and turned into the interior of a small but well-appointed tavern. It wasn’t the most complex bit of Illusory, and it wasn’t necessary, but I found it amusing to have the game board be a little more animated.

“Wait,” the Limpet said. She looked between the board and her character sheet. “You didn’t explain the rules?”

“Hmm? Oh, I didn’t. Too bad. Learn as you play. Perhaps that’ll be the first lesson that this game teaches you.”

Alex cleared their throat. “I will assist you where I can. Just as the Bonefather and I have assisted you in the real world.”

The Limpet gave Alex a small nod. “Thank you. I’m sure this will all make sense in time.”

“It won’t,” Rem muttered, flicking one of her dice again. This one bounced off the corner of the map and vanished under the table. She didn’t look like she planned on retrieving it.

I ignored her, as was tradition. “Now then, you find yourselves in a quiet tavern at the edge of a small, windswept town. The kind of place where strangers don’t stay long, and the regulars have developed a complicated relationship with chairs not nailed to the floor.”

Seventeen leaned forward, peering at the map. “Are we alone in the tavern?”

“There’s a barkeep polishing a mug behind the counter and one lone patron in the corner, dozing into his stew. The fire is low. There’s the occasional creak of wood. Otherwise... quiet.”

“Good,” Seventeen said. He reached for a die. “May I roll a medicine or nature check to determine if the people of this establishment have bones?”

“Certainly,” I said.

He rolled, and the result was a respectable fourteen. With his modifiers... “Yes. You determine through observation that the people of this tavern have bones.”

“Hmm, yes, this will be useful later.”

The Limpet squinted at her sheet, then at the little figurine of herself sitting at the imaginary tavern table. “Do I have any money?”

“Yes,” I said. “You’ve each been granted a standard adventurer’s stipend. Ten gold coins, two silver, a copper piece you don’t remember receiving, and a pocket lint sample of dubious origin.”

Mem leaned over her sheet. “Can I trade the pocket lint for something?”

“It is not accepted as currency,” I said.

Mem frowned. “But it’s got history. That has to be worth something.”

“If you can find a merchant who trades in forgotten lint, I will allow it,” I conceded.

Rem tapped the edge of her sheet with one claw. “Can I just rob the place?”

Alex sighed audibly. “You haven’t even talked to the barkeep.”

Rem tilted her head. “Is that required?”

I cleared my throat. “This is a narrative-driven exercise. Ideally, you engage with the scenario. Attempt diplomacy. Ask questions. Establish trust.”

Rem scoffed. “I trust that I can kill a barkeep and eat him.”

The Limpet was still staring at her sheet. “Do I… have any spells?”

“Yes,” I said. “Though not many. You’re a low-level character, meant to survive only slightly longer than a cow in a thunderstorm.”

She glanced at me. “That doesn’t sound very survivable.”

“That’s the thrill,” Seventeen said. “If you survive, it’s because you earned it.”

“And if you don’t?”

“Mem heard that some people write songs about people that die. Mem thought about that, but most of her songs about dying are just screaming.”

I gestured again, and the illusionary map shimmered. “As you consider your options, the barkeep approaches your table. He’s an older man with a limp and a long scar down his left cheek. He carries a tray with mismatched mugs, each filled with a different drink. One of them is bubbling. The others are simply untrustworthy.”

“Is this a trap?” the Limpet asked.

“No.”

“Is that a lie?”

“…Maybe.”

Alex leaned forward slightly. “I inspect the drinks.”

“Roll an Arcana check.”

She did so, murmuring under her breath as the die clacked against the tabletop. “Fifteen.”

“Two of the drinks appear to have minor enchantments on them. One is gently glowing. One is vibrating.”

“I drink the vibrating one,” Rem said.

The Limpet stared. “Why?”

“I want to see what it does.”

“It might kill you.”

“That’s fine. Then I don’t have to keep playing.”

“You just sat down!”

The mug rattled faintly on the table as Rem’s figurine raised it to her mouth. Or where a mouth would be, if her miniature had one. I made a show of glancing at my notes.

“The drink temporarily enhances your speed and coordination. You feel jittery. And deeply aware of every creak in the floorboards.”

Rem nodded. “I flip the table.”

“You what?”

“In the game. I flip the tavern table.”

“Why?”

“To see if the barkeep reacts.”

Alex pressed a palm to her forehead. “That’s not... It’ll create a mess. My character will begin searching for a mop and bucket and maybe a rag. Hmm... why is Cleaning not a skill? Is it not fundamental?”

“She drank the vibrating one,” the Limpet said, tone dry. “We should’ve seen this coming.”

I sighed, but lifted a hand. The illusion shifted, and the tiny table on the map launched into the air with a thud, mugs clattering mid-flight before freezing midair.

The barkeep blinked.

Then he said, “Well, that was rude.”

Seventeen tilted his head. “Can I roll Insight on the barkeep?”

“What are you trying to learn?”

“Whether or not he’s secretly a skeleton.”

“Ah. Yes. That’s a valuable skill.”

He rolled. “Natural one.”

I paused. “You are now completely convinced that he is not a skeleton, and that you were foolish for ever suspecting otherwise. You may feel bad about it for several hours.”

Seventeen nodded solemnly. “I do.”

“I didn’t know you could roll wrong,” the Limpet muttered.

“Oh,” Alex said. “You’ll learn that very quickly.”

The Limpet watched all of this in silence for a moment longer, then quietly pushed her chair in just a little closer to the table.

I let the moment linger.

They weren’t playing well.

They weren’t even playing correctly.

But they were playing.

And really, wasn’t that all I wanted?

I leaned back in my chair, steepled my fingers, and allowed myself a pleased little smile.

***