Dead Tired Sidestory

I was asked to write something for the end of the DT Audiobook, and... well, I might as well post it here for the non-audiobook-listening patreons!

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“Sorry I’m late!” he said as he slid into the room. It was a little cozy in there, the space filled with a few boxes, a half dozen plush chairs, and in one corner, an old cast-iron wood stove. The stove was lit filling the room with that particular warmth that came from a real fire, and of course the faint smell of burnt wood that lingered pleasantly in the air. “Bit chilly out, and I didn’t want to drive too fast,” he said.

“You’re good at that. Always with the best reason to be late. And yet, still always late.”

“Oh, come on,” he said before turning to gesture to an old clock hanging off one of the walls. “It’s five past when we were meant to start.”

There were six of them in the room at the moment, all gathered around an hickory table marked by old scratches and a few blemishes where spilled ink had stained the top. At the moment, the old table was covered by a few books and a heap of loose papers. Player handbooks, monster books, and a few cheeky guides that weren’t meant to be in a player’s possession. 

The centre of the table held a small map, laid out flat, and with little buildings and bits of ‘terrain’ scattered atop it. The quality varied a lot. Some were expertly carved pieces, homes made from wood, cut and carved and painted so carefully that one might have believed them to be a real home made small. Other bits were discarded toys, an a few of the rocky mountains on the map were not so mountainous rocks plucked from a backyard garden.

A tiny group of characters sat in the middle of the map. They were on coin-sized bases. Some beautifully painted, with even their eyes dotted in the centre, and others were... not so pretty to look upon, and more about presenting a vague idea of what was being dealt with.

With a big smile on, the man who’d entered scanned his audience as he came to stand at one end of the table. “So, where were we last time?” he asked.

There was a fair bit of variety around the table. The young woman that kept snapping back was sitting slouched in a comfortably padded seat, constantly adjusting her big frames on her nose and staring at him with a pinched expression.

Next to her, in a character-accurate costume, was a maid, and next to the maid a pair of sisters. One had a small stack of papers with scribbled notes on them, several books, and three pens, all differently coloured to help her make even more notes. 

She sister had half a napkin with her character’s name on it, and her weapon stats next to that. It was all she needed.

Across from them was a young woman who didn’t always show up. “I’m glad you made it!”

“I could afford to. So, what’s in store for us tonight?”

He grinned, big and wide and more than a little excited before reaching into the pockets of his jacket and tugging out a small heap of papers. “I’ve had an idea,” he said.

There was a chorus of groans around the table.

“No, no, it’s a great idea. So! We’ve finished our big split quest, and what did we learn?”

“Don’t split the party?”

“Uh... yes, that too. But most of all, we learned that all of our characters are super cool and might have bitten off way more than they can chew! So, I was thinking, right? What about... a tournament arc?”

“A tournament arc?”

“It’s a clever way to introduce a whole host of new characters! I’ve got them all here... an ancient monk who’s only two feet tall called Bruce Flea, a bard called Lute Skywalker, I’ve got an idea for a ranger called Beau.”

The limpet sighs “I’m afraid to ask, but what’s his family name?”

“The ranger? Beau N. Arrow, of course!” 

Everyone in the room groaned. 

“I hate this,” the bespectacled woman muttered. “I hate that I know where this is going.”

“You love this,” he said, grinning with all the smugness of a man who had spent far too long writing pun names into stat blocks. “This is narrative brilliance. Character growth, interpersonal drama, thematic—”

“—filler,” the maid cut in, already leafing through one of the contraband player guides. “It’s filler, and you know it.”

“Oh, shush you. It’s nothing of the sort. Now... where were we last time?”

“Harold had just stomped that one army flat with those undead guys. It was pretty neat. Big battle scene, big stakes. No Big Bad Evil Guy, though.”

“I’m working on something like that for the next arc, don’t worry. But yes... how about a little bit of downtime before we get back into the big stuff. Your Limpet--”

“Her name is Fen Fang Fang.”

“Yes, the Limpet, now self-declared queen of... that one city whose name I forgot, just defeated a great big army. What do we do next?”

“I want to have Cinder look at the corpses of any of the cultivators. They might have valuables, and treasures. I think Cinder wouldn’t mind a few new pieces of gear.”

“Hey, some of that gear should be mine. I mean... the cities. We have an entire army to equip.”

“Hah! Okay, roll for... Perception of Investigation, whichever is higher. Don’t roll too high though I haven’t made a good loot table for those nameless cultivators yet.”

Dice clicked and clattered on the table, and then the results were read aloud. “That’s a sixteen with my Wisdom modifier. No proficiency, I’m afraid. Still, pretty good.”

“Alright, so, you start to rummage through the bodies, which means stepping out of the city. There are mounds of bodies, most of the common soldiers, faceless mooks that your own undead army have ripped into. Harold, of course, has better things to do at the moment, so he’s leaving all of this to you lot. Cinder discovers that some of the more enterprising undead have carried the richer-looking bodies off to one side where they’ll be easier to loot!”

On the table, little figurines were moving about and places in new spots alongside the folded cardboard walls of Yu Xiang. Some cheap little skeletons were shifted aside to make room for the heroes as they scoured through dead bodies. 

“Is there anything to fight?” one of the sisters asked.

“Not right now, no.”

“Eh.” She shrugged and leaned back into her seat. Not actually upset, but not quite as engaged. She did keep casting the occasional glance at the maid across form her, though.

“C-can I look for survivors?” Her sister asked. 

“Of course! Same as Cinder here, Investigation or Perception!”

Papers were shuffled, notes flipped this way and that, and finally, she found her character sheet, only to stare at all of the little boxes with their little numbers that all meant something. She bit her thumb. “Oh... uh, which ones are those?”

The DM leaned forward, one eyebrow raised like he’d just been presented with a delicious puzzle. “Wisdom is Perception. Intelligence is Investigation.”

“Oh. Uh…” She checked again. “Wisdom it is. I think.”

“Do you have a little dot next to either of those?”

She tilted her head, then spun the sheet around and held it out to him. He squinted at the page, then shook his head. “Ah, looks like poor Mem isn’t very perceptive... and her Intelligence is, ah, my, I didn’t know it could go that low. But your Wisdom score is just fine. Spin that D20!”

The game continued. There were grumbles--mostly whenever a particularly painful pun came up, but there was just as much laughter. 

“I swear,” the bespectacled girl said, pressing her fingers into her temples, “If the next NPC we meet is named ‘Sir Vival,’ I’m flipping this table.”

“Says Fen Fang Fang with the dog named Fang.”

“Will you flip out if I give up on the puns?”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Oh... well, maybe after I introduce this glant and slightly cowards knight. His name is... Sir Render! Oh-hoho!” 

He ducked, barely dodging a flicked chip.

“Hey now. I’m the one who has to clean that.”

Suddenly, about an hour into the game, there came a heavy thump-thump from the front door. “I think that’s the prophesied pizza.”

“It was prophesied?”

The maid pulled a smart phone from within the folds of their maidly costume. The delivery tracker on it was open for all to see. “Yup!” 

The maid moved over to the front door and opened it, allowing a gust a wind to sweep into the room and revealing a wide-eyed teen holding two large boxed. “Uh, I’ve got one pep and cheese and one everything pizza for... ‘The Prophecy?’” 

“You found it.”

“Found what?”

“The prophecy.”

Greg blinked. “Cool. Do you guys, like... need napkins…Is this a cult?”

“No,” said the bespectacled girl without missing a beat. “It’s worse. It’s roleplaying.”

The maid took the pizzas, bowed with surprising formality, and handed him a crisp twenty for the tip. “Thanks, brave courier. You’ve fulfilled the prophecy.”

The delivery guy scratched the back of his neck. “Right, yeah. Uh, you folks have a good night.”

He turned, paused, then glanced back again. “Hey… you guys need another player?”

There was a beat of silence.

The DM’s eyes lit up.

“Do you have a pun-based character name prepared?” he asked.

He thought for a moment, then shrugged. “Not really? But I like puns. I think they’re funny.”

The room erupted in chaos. One of the sisters screamed. The other applauded. Someone knocked over a cup.

“You’re hired!” the DM yelled, already flipping to a blank sheet. “Level three. Standard array. You’re entering the tournament immediately.”

“But I’m still on shift—”

The bespectacled girl grinned. “Maybe. But we have snacks, pizza, it’s warm in here, and we have lots of bad ideas.”

***