Thug Muggers in the Past 2/12/23
Table Talk:
Diedrik got me Cypress’s backstory this week, so that’s up for everyone who wants to read it. He also got an extra luck token for being the first to get it to me. Also, i am granting bonuses to people specifically based on their backstories. The way it works is that i’ll pick something about it that inspires me, and offer it to the player to decide if they like it and want it. Diedrik very much liked his, but is waiting to reveal it so i won't say what it is, but it’s cool.
I noticed that i am having a tough time remembering Fire and Poison damage that takes place each turn. So, if you have a fiery thing or get poisoned, please help me remember that that needs to happen in the initiative order.
A note before i get started: In this session, we did a lot of backstory, and in this summary i have tried my best to encapsulate the ideas of the players. But, the narrative was still written by me. Please take this into consideration and i apologize if i get anything wrong as i attempt to write from the character’s perspectives. Obviously, the players know their characters much better than i do, so if the narrative surrounding them seems off, that’s on me, not them. To help with this, I have included the recording transcription that Diedrik typed up afterwards HERE, so if you are curious about what the players described, or how the actual gameplay went, you can find it at the end of the summary. Also, in an attempt to mix the tones of DM narration versus actual story, and in an attempt to show the flashback time versus the now, there are some shifting tenses, and some shifting perspectives. I apologize in advance if this gets confusing.
“the Brounie would have had to be super powerful to pull off anything like that. On a basic level, you need consent and compliance to perform magic on someone – and the human body is the most resistant thing there is to magic. That’s because it is a vessel of will, so to pull off a spell like that would be quite a feat. I suspect the Brounie induced some sort of psychosomatic suggestion, as opposed to any real binding of your intestines by a magical umbilical cord. The Fae are known for their use of glamour. Suggestion is more likely to succeed than brute magic on a person.”
-Priyanka Kapoor —T. L. Huchu, “The Library of the Dead: XXXV”
🎲🗡️🔔✨🌿
Chapter 13: A Gelatinous Puzzle (cont.)
🎲🗡️🔔✨🌿 Chapter 13: A Gelatinous Puzzle (cont.)
The rain drips off awnings in the main square of Nibiru as people bustle around buying and selling things. It’s a busy morning despite the rain and many people find themselves stopping and cursing the mud as their boots splash in the puddles. Most people are hoping the rain will quit soon so they can set up for lunch, but one industry just wants it to just keep on coming. It’s gonna be a good few days for the bath houses here in the city.
But we aren’t in the city, we’re down below, in the Sewers. So what are the Thug Muggers up to down here in VanCUBEre?
Ari is leading the party, holding a tin-wooden crate lid in one hand, and using the other to cast Thaumaturgy and make little scurrying rat shadows along the wall.
Cypress is following her, waving the dead Stirge and occasionally resituating their crate lid under their arm. They move the Stirge like a worm cat-toy, letting it set just long enough, then pulling it back so the Cube only gets a taste, then dangling it and swinging it in the air.
Sorin is behind the Cube, holding his crate lid up with both hands in case the Cube suddenly changes directions. Occasionally he peeks over the top like he’s afraid the Cube will notice him. Every few steps, the chain bumps against his tin board and the sound startles him into almost dropping it.
Finally at the back, both of Rae’s hands are holding on tight to the chain. She steps right and left, throwing her body weight around as a counter-weight to keep the Cube on a straight path, like a small child trying to walk a Great Dane. She is just barely keeping up with the Cube, constantly jerking the chain around to keep the Cube from hitting any walls.
We’re at the next intersection now, and before anything can happen Sorin wants everyone to know “I can use Firebolt again and get it moving.”
“If you even suggest that one more time, I will tie you up with this chain and leave you here.” Rae’s voice is a dead pan, she doesn’t even look around at him.
Ari ups the Stirge noises to bait the Cube down the right hallway.
As soon as the corridor opens up, Rae darts in without looking. She runs up behind the Cube, tightening the chain to keep it in line. When she does, a Large Spider (like a Giant Spider but half the size and with ‘bloodied’ stats) jumps out from a shadow behind her and bites at her ankle for 5 damage. Rae groans, she has already had enough of this and i’m not even a page in. She slacks the chain with one hand, and grips her new staff in the other. She reaches over her head and swings the staff down hard!
Rae, you hear a loud wooden crack, the sound of wood splitting along the grain from a hard hit. A voice rings out “Raelle Woodmaker! What have you done!?”
Raelle, you are 30 years old (the human equivalent of 8 years old). Your staff is across the shoulder of a young human. You are standing over them and you can see a small line across your staff where the crack is starting. Off to the left you can see your father walking over to you. He has stopped working on the wooden beam he was planing, and dropped his tools. They float around him in the air causing his robes to flutter as if in an unseen wind. You’re used to this, it’s a thing a lot of the High Monks do to keep things close at hand, but you know that swirling pattern, like a figure 8 behind his back, things only swirl around him like that when he’s angry. You’ve been seeing that pattern a lot lately.
Your father marches up to you with quick decisive steps, like his moccasins are scolding the stones he’s walking on. He is speaking in Elven to spare you the shame of the villagers hearing, “Raelle, you will answer me, child.” He reaches out to pull the staff from your hands.
Raelle pulls back the staff, jerking it out of her dad’s hand, her eye has a malicious gleam in it, and she parries. When she pulls the staff back, she lets it roll over her hand, bringing the bottom up at the human bully.
He doesn’t understand! This brat was making fun of the temple, and the elves, and her family, and and and... and he just doesn’t get it! The kid needs some kind of punishment, so even if she gets scolded and lectured, Rae will pay that price to teach this walking snot-bag a lesson. These kids will learn to respect the temple and everything they do.
She swings the bottom of the staff up, but it stops. Her father’s hammer has floated in the way and now his hand is on the back of it.
“I have had enough of this, Raelle.” (ooooh so that’s where she gets it)
With tears welling in her eyes, Raelle refuses to lose like this. She twists her grip, and brings her elbow down, snapping the staff at the crack line.
“Wait, Raelle-” a hand darts out to stop her, but it’s too late. Raelle is already off and running. Her father lets out a frustrated groan and without thinking, tosses the broken stick to the side. But to young Rae, in her sensitive child mind, it seems like he’s throwing it at her to try and stop his daughter.
Raelle feels the stinging needles of angry tears under her eyes as she runs away. Behind her she can hear the idiot children chanting and mocking her family name. “Woodbreaker, woodbreaker, doesn’t know how to make a thing.”
‘So that’s back I guess’, She thinks. She’d hoped they’d have moved on, but seeing her break the practice staff must’ve brought it back.
“I just wanted to help.” Rae says as she runs around through the sawdust and wood chips. Her feet kick through it like little snow drifts until she rounds to the corner, and vaults one-handed over the village wall. She can’t hear the kids anymore but she’s still trying to outrun their voices in her head as she runs up the hill behind the public house.
Phew! That’s some emotional stuff, let's see what’s going on back in the sewers.
The Spider is flat on the floor, Rae’s knock to its head having driven it to the ground. It spreads its legs, thinking to skuttle up on her feet. Suddenly it’s thrown back. A small explosion hits the cobblestones right in front of its face. The shockwave ripples through its gooey little brain and all consciousness stops.
Sorin’s Fire Bolt was a perfect hit. Landing just under and in front of the Spider, killing it instantly and making it backflip into the air. The explosion also knocks a spec of paving dirt loose and it bounces back, hitting Sorin in the forehead. It actually lands right on top of an old scar in his eyebrow.
Sorin, you are clutching your hand to your face. That hurt. Though to be honest, you are kinda getting used to it. Is that a good sign, or a bad sign? You shrug it off.
You’ve just half-fallen-half-slid down the last couple steps of the steep staircase here by the front door of the orphanage. The cracked wood in this place seems to hate you, it always trips you and none of the other kids. Well, you’re down stairs now, that’s the important thing. You hop from one foot to the other, Matteo will be back any minute. It’s not fair that you can’t go with him to the clerk's office, but you’re sure you can soon. Nen even said she can make out most of the writing in your last journal, soon you’ll have neat perfect letters like Matteo. (you won’t, but it’s good to dream)
The wooden step outside creaks, the latch clicks. HE’S HERE! Sorin runs forward to greet him, and slam his face into the door as it opens.
Matteo walks in and looks at you confused, “whu-oof”
Sorin hits him full force, running into him for a hug and nearly knocking him over.
After a laugh and a tight hug, they let each other go.
Matteo kneels down to take a look at his little brother. Sorin’s cheek is swollen from hitting the door, and his forehead has a cut on it from the stairs.
“Hold still little clutz.” he says and carefully pulls a little sliver of wood out from the cut. “Sorin, you have GOT to be more careful. You can’t just keep running around without any care at all.” He stands up and turns to throw the splinter out the still open front door. When he turns back concern and stress are written all over his face. “You’re growing up fast, Sorin, and we both know that you’re smart.” He starts gesticulating and waving his arms. Trying to explain. “But you can’t keep treating the world like it will move out of the way for you. You exist in the world, not the other way around, and the walls are not going to suddenly change to be soft when you run into them, just because it’s you.”
Little Sorin feels the tears welling up as he stares up at his big brother.
So there they are, little Sorin with barely holding back tears on his beaten up face, and the bigger Matteo standing over him moving his arms around wildly, when Nen’s new half-Orc housekeeper comes out from the hallway and sees them.
“No hitting!” She shouts. She drops the basket of rags and bottles and rushes over. In a flash she is standing over Matteo and holding his arm back. In her mind, she is a hero and this is proof that these unholy human kids need a good Orc upbringing to learn how to be civilized.
“What, no, Orangina, you got it wrong.” Matteo splutters, holding out his other hand and trying to explain.
Sorin’s disappointment is gone in a flash, replaced with a fierce, hot anger. ‘My turn,’ he thinks, ‘Matteo always saves me, but this time I’m gonna save him. Little Sorin takes a stance and gets ready, ignoring the talking going on above him.
“Oh I see,” Orangina says, letting go of Matteo's arm. He rubs his wrist.
Sorin lunges. “Don’t you hurt my big brother!” he yells and rushes the seven foot half-Orc housekeeper. He rushes her leg, and pushes as hard as he can.
Orangina’s leg does not move. But, Sorin did push it hard enough to knock himself over. He stumbles back and trips on his hand-me-down pants (from Matteo of course, he wouldn’t accept the better fitting ones because they weren’t from Matteo). He falls back and hits his head on the bottom stair again.
There is a moment of silence, and then it’s just too much, Matteo and Orangina splutter with laughter. They're fighting to hold in and not laugh at a hurt child, but it’s all just too much, and the laughter bursts out anyways.
Sorin lays there on the floor, glaring up at them.
9 years and 4 months later, 26 blocks away and underground, Ari is walking along the sewer hallway. She loses her concentration on the Thaumaturgy spell, and the sound of flapping wings vanishes. She loses her concentration in the same instant she draws her rapier. The same instant that the Giant Centipede scuttles up on her and Cypress and bites into her ankle for 5 damage.
Ari slashes out at the Centipede as it curls and rears up for another strike. Her blade cuts through its chitin just below the head. The greenish blood spurts as the beast hisses and gurgles.
Zavari, you are sitting at a stone desk. You hear a throaty-hissing. It’s the voice of your tutor as he rambles on in Infernal, as he attempts to transfer years of history into your brain by cramming the words in your ears with a metaphorical shovel.
The desk is a blank stone with gray and blue flecks. It matches the stone of the walls, which isn’t a surprise since, like the walls, it is carved out of the same mountain rock. But where the desk juts out from the wall, it is polished so smoothly that it shows your reflection when you look down at it. Along the edges of the desk are gold inlays that make pleasing geometric patterns; a mix of straight lines and gentle curves. You trace your little claw along the pattern, and the gold is warm, almost soft to the touch. The corners of these patterns are inlaid gemstones cut to shape beautiful mosaic faces with elegantly curling horns and fangs. (To the demonic elite horn grooming is an art that says a great deal about class and beauty, similar to how many African hair styles traditionally showed social status in some places. The difference being that to style it takes years and a lot of expensive magic, as well as lava-based creams for the really coarse horns.)
After tracing the outline of the lady with her horn in an over-head spiral, you sigh softly and look up at the window next to the desk. The landscape beyond is lit with a dull orangish-red glow, like something set down next to a campfire. Most of what you can see when you look up is the roof of a cave. Its black stalagmites hang like shiny constellations in the night sky. The stone is so black that it becomes purple. Or at least we humans would see it as a purplish brown, since all color is just wavelengths, its true color would be around 95.3 FM.
You stare out the window and daydream. You become so lost in your thoughts that you don’t even hear the silence when your tutor stops talking, or the soft thump as he closes the book. You do hear his gentle sigh, and with a shameful start, you turn to see him take off his glasses and clean them on his sleeve.
Your tutor is a full fledged demon. An old, old man with granite colored skin, his horns hanging down to his chest and twist to braid in with the horn coming out of his chin. His robes are black with hard lines of green traced over it. The edges have delicate lace woven from emeralds.
He pushes the glasses back on his face and gives the young tiefling a gentle smile. “So, Zavari,” he says with a kind mock-scolding, “what are we dreaming about today instead of listening to my Hellstory lecture?”
Little Zavari looks sheepishly down at the Hellstory text book on the desk, but it’s no use pretending. He caught her and she knows it. “Adventure, and fighting dragons.” She says, looking wistful.
Yofess looks away with a sly smile. “I do know a story…” he trails off, taking great care to be casual, and not at all eyeing Zavari for her reaction. He stands up and stretches. “It’s about your Great Grandfather King Raenef, and the time he fought the HellDragons.”
“What!?” Zavari sitting bolt upright in her seat, the picture of a model student.
“But,” says Yofess, facing the window and trying not to smile at Zavari’s reaction. “That’s just stuffy old Hellstory.” He sits back down and reaches to pack up his bag.
“No wait!” Zarvari’s excitement is practically vibrating the stones of the whole castle. She tries to match her teacher’s coyness, “I could … try to pay attention to that story …”
After a brief silence, Zavari drops the pretense, and lets her eagerness show, “Please, Yofess?”
Back in our world, the Giant Centipede falls on its back. It writhes and wriggles in its final death throes. Cypress stares at it, and for some reason, it brings back a memory.
Cypress, you’re 17, the equivalent to 8 years old for a human. You’re out on a walk in the woods, which is a nice treat for you. It’s only been a few seasons now (Halflings thinking of seasons like we do months) that you’ve been allowed to go out on your own. A few days ago when you were out, you saw the great big stump of a downed tree about three miles out from hole (like from home). You’ve been excited to go back and really look at it because you remember it had a whole bunch of mushrooms on it you could bring back to look up and learn about.
Unfortunately, the last few days have been nothing but chorrin’ so you haven’t had a chance to go for a walk.
But, today you had nothing after breakfast. You packed a little day-lunch sack and spent 20 minutes picking out the right walking stick.
You’re almost there now, in a part of the woods where lots of old dead trees lay on the ground slowly being eaten by moss.
CAAW!
Cypress steps out from behind a tree and the startled raven yells out at them angrily as it flies off, leaving its food behind on a log. It’s a long, thick, plump centipede. It wiggles and twitches on top of the log as the talon holes ooze green blood.
“Sorry,” young Cypress says to the treetops high overhead. “I didn’t mean to disturb your lunch.” He walks away, following a path drawn in shaky lines in his memory. Occasionally he has to trace back to an old rock and start again.
Eventually, they find the way. This all looks familiar, there are rows of thick red-barked trees on either side forming something like a natural cathedral. Sun shines through in rays from the canopy. This part of the woods feels warm and special, like just up ahead will be a moss covered stone plinth with a sword in it. Instead of a hero’s sword though, at the base of this tiny hill in the dead tree stump.
The stump was once part of a mighty Redwood that must have towered over the skyline for miles around. Cypress’s child imagination paints it as tall as a mountain when he looks at the stump. Even tipped on its side, the trunk is over ten feet tall (that's eight kilometers in metric). The exposed roots form a tangled halo-wreath around it with grass, moss and saplings winding up in between them. The heartwood of the tree has long since rotted away, leaving a hollow pit like a small bear cave. The sides of the stump shape a hillock where decades of wind swept dirt have piled on the sides.
Cypress breathes a reverential breath as he looks at it. He knows enough to see centuries of time crammed into this one little natural tablough. First the birth of sapling, then years of good and bad seasons, then storm which must’ve shaken the whole world to topple this tree, the long path where its log rotted away and stopped sapling from growing, then the sand and dirt blown into its cracks, the seeds of grass and tiny lichen, and finally the years of decaying wood feeding it all into a flourishing garden-carpet. Cypress breathes a reverential breath.
After several minutes watching this imaginary time lapse play out, Cypress shakes their head. Mushrooms. That’s today's plan. Mushrooms. He walks up to the dead tree and looks around at all the mushrooms clinging to the dead wood. Tall and short, red and white, puffy and fluted, it's a treasure trove just waiting to be classified.
‘Time to see which ones I know and which ones I need to learn,’ he thinks.
Cypress sticks out a finger and points along the rows, thinking to himself. But, when his finger points to a flat-topped Chanterelle, he stops. His breath catches and his whole body goes still.
A few feet away, in a direct line with his finger, is a lady. A tiny glowing lady with wings. She is standing underneath the mushroom and raising a basket. Cypress’s mouth falls open as he watches the little woman brush her tiny hand through the gills of the mushroom. Little dots fall out of the gills and into her basket, then she pets the mushroom stalk, kisses it, and moves to the next one.
Very, very slowly, Cypress lowers his hand and crouches down in the grass. The little woman doesn’t seem to notice him, and he watches as she goes on. After a few of these Chanterelles her basket is full of a fluffy tan powder. Her little arms strain and she flaps her wings dragging the basket through the air.
Cypress ducks down lower trying hard not to be seen, then after an impatient couple breaths, they poke their head back out. The tiny lady steps back out from the knot hole in the nearby young tree carrying another basket and she flutters over to the giant rotting stump.
‘This is so much more exciting than just some new mushrooms,’ Cypress thinks to himself, licking his lips, ‘I’ve heard stories of the little ones that make the forest grow, but to see this...’ he watches on ‘I always thought they were just stories…’
For a few minutes young Cypress watches as she carries basket after basket to different mushrooms, and combs through their gills for spores. Shitake in a green-grass basket, White-Button in a blue basket, Cremini in an orange basket, and so on. At one point she puts a basket on top of a little cluster of Enoki, wraps her arms around them, and squeezes, sending a little cloud of spores up into the basket before carrying it back to the knot hole in the tree.
After all this the little woman carries each basket out of her little hole and lines them up on a long flat leather-leaf. She starts taking handfuls from each one and dropping them into another. Then, after all of them have been mixed she reaches down, elbow deep in each basket, and stirs them. Cypress continues to watch as she halls on the green basket and flies back to the giant stump.
‘I never would have thought’ the young halfling thinks. He sees her reach into the basket, pull out a few spores, lick them, and stick them to the side of the rotting wood.
Cypress hasn’t realized that he’s slowly been inching out of his hiding spot in the grass, until the tiny woman turns around. Her basket is empty and shen she goes to get a new one, she spots him.
Very…very…cautiously…she floats over to the leatherleaf where her baskets are all arranged. All while maintaining eye contact with our young halfling, she sets her basket down, and floats over to them. Her every movement seems to suggest that at the first sign of aggression, she’ll disappear.
Cypress stays still, trying to push good intent out of his pores like sweat.
. . . a broken staff 🔔🎲
. . . a broken staff 🔔🎲
At the top of the hill beside the little village Raelle runs to the back of Eda’s house. The witch’s house is an old cottage on top of the hill. The stone walls have shifted and settled so that one end looks like it was built for someone a few feet shorter than whoever lives at the other end. The roof is tiled with wooden shingles that have gone gray and green with age. Most of them have thick moss carpeting on them, and the corners have a few tiny saplings beginning to creep out from under the eves.
Raelle runs around the back of the little house where the rough wood-log fence is built right up to the walls of the house, and a handful of goats mill around inside the little pen. Next to the pen, the back door to the house hangs open. A couple of halved logs lay next to each other as a half-ramp-half-step. Eda is sitting on this makeshift stoop, one gnarled hand scratching the ears of a salt and pepper sheep dog sitting at her side. She is staring at the sky when Raelle approaches, her other hand clutched around the thick black bowl of a churchwarden pipe. She smiles and rubs the pipe stem across her hairy chin before lifting it to her lips. When the cloud of smoke clears she has the pipe stem pointing at the sky, seeming to trace the shape of the clouds.
Eda sees the Elfling running up to her and smiles, until she sees the ghost of angry tears on Raelle’s face. She maintains her outward smile as she lets her inner-self sigh. She’s known the young Raelle all her life and she’s been a friend to both the temple and the Woodmakers, its head family, for generations. Every one of them has sat here with Eda as they grew up. Having long conversations about the important things of childhood; a favorite rock found while finishing, the desire to pull girls hair, the desire to marry some boy, the way the thunderstorms scare them, all of it. But this Raelle now, it’s never been so light and easy for her. Every one of their doorstep confessionals has been so serious; the woes of a child who is too old to be so young.
‘Here we go,’ Eda thinks to herself as she takes another pull off the pipe for good luck.
Raelle stands, back straight, in front of her panting. Her fists are clenched at her sides, shaking.
“Where are the goats, Eda!?” Raelle-the-Furious demands as she fists the tears off her. She looks like she’s trying to punch them off her face.
Eda lets out the smoke with a little burst of magic hidden inside. Her laugh is loud and happy as she rolls back. Then she pulls back from the pipe and points it at the goat pen.
The Charm spell washes over Raelle and Eda sighs with relief, seeing the young elf’s shoulders relax. ‘Good,’ she thinks, ‘she wasn’t too far then.’
Raelle blinks and visibly sags, as the weight of the day falls off her like a wet cloak.
“So child,” Eda says as she pats a worn stop on the stoop next to her, “what happened?”
“I fought the village.” Raelle says in a flat voice, “And, I fought my dad.” She pauses for a thoughtful moment and then she corrects herself. “Well I fought a villager. A kid.”
Eda blinks back the worry she had for just a moment and laughs again.
She lifts her hand off the dog at her side and whistles a little chirping tune. The dog takes a step, yawns, stretches, and then walks over the fence gate. He pushes his head under the little wooden latch and walks in. Then the dog corrals the goats around Raelle, who giggles and laughs trying to pet each one while trying to keep her sleeves from being eaten. The dog shifts to stay behind the goats, and waits. When Eda winks at him, he nudges the goat in front of him, who jumps and turns, accidentally kicking the goat next to it, who leans away bumping the goat in front of Raelle and tripping her so that she falls back onto the wooden step.
Raelle lands hard on her butt, laughing as she sits next to Eda.
After several minutes of goats vying and butting for attention, Rae seems calm and the scene settles down.
Now the sun is slowly falling into the afternoon shy as Raelle sits with a kid on her lap. She tells Eda everything that happened; how the children had kepting making fun of the temple, how she tried to explain, how they made fun of her, how they made fun of her dad, and how she finally snapped.
“I just…” she says scratching the kid’s baby goatee, “it's easy when they make fun of me, but when they talk about the temple not doing anything…” she takes her hand away from the goat and sighs.
“Let me tell you something, Raelle,” Eda says, “I’ve known your family for a very long time, I even remember when your father was your age sitting here next to me.” She smiles down at the little Elf, “In fact, you’re actually a lot like how he was at your age.” She hesitates, because some lies are too big even for a witch. “Okay that’s a lie. You’re almost nothing alike. But, I can still tell you about him, and I think it might help.”
Young Raelle stairs up at Eda as she talks and the thought dawns on her, ‘Eda is treating me like an adult’.
Eda tells Raelle a long story. A story of her father struggling to make ends meet, of him trying hard to keep his daughter calm, of trying to do everything he can to help everyone around him, and it never being enough. Then she tells a story of human children, little kids with the lifespan of goats, at least to those of us that live so long. It’s a story where a child picks on an Elf, then learns better and grows up, then sees their own child picking on that same Elf, and all the while it seems like such a short time to us.
Eda talks on and on as the afternoon turns to evening, explaining why some people are calm, and why some people are angry, and why each one is right at different times . . . .
. . . the 91st time I hit my head ✨ 🎲
. . . the 91st time I hit my head ✨ 🎲
Sorin’s glare isn’t working on Matteo or Oragnina as he stands up from the floor. Frustrated, he runs out the open door and slams it behind him. He pauses for only a heartbeat, looking around at the busy street, and then he’s off. Like a life-and-death stakes game of Frogger, Sorin ducks under cart yokes, and around horse legs, running across the street before Matteo can get out here and call him back.
At the other end of the street, he ducks into an alleyway, then around the back of a warehouse, then across Merrybridge Street, then over a wall, and across farmer McEgor’s cabbage patch, then past the Shane’s apple trees, and so on.
Soon, the young Sorin is sitting on a rock by the river. His arms around his knees, his face on his elbows.
After some angry muttering, he gets up and walks the river bank. He’s slow as he paces along it, occasionally kicking stones out into the water, and occasionally picking others up and weighing them in his hands. Some of them he pockets, and some of them he drops in the water, watching the ripples spread out and change from circles to D’s when they hit the shore.
After an hour or so, Sorin goes back to the rock, and looks around. Making sure no one is around to see, he pulls out his treasure. At the base of the rock, he moves aside a branch on a little shrub and takes out a small box. He sets it atop the stone and undoes the ribbon holding it shut. He pulls out the book inside, and the few rocks saved with it, along with the stub of a little pencil. ‘I’ll have to swipe a new one soon’, he thinks.
Sorin thumbs through the pages of the book, and we see diagrams and numbered notations. There are traced drawings that look like little lumps along with some measurements. He flips to a clean page - well a page without any writing on it at least - and then traces the outline of the new stones there, numbering them. Then he turns the rocks on their edges and traces them again from the side.
He looks over the last few pages at little stick figures with their arms up higher and lower. He sets the book back down and goes up to the edge of the bricks that line the irrigation ditch coming off the river here. He carefully counts 3 foot lengths back, then stands with his back straight, takes aim, and throws.
The little rock bounces and skips on the water twice and plunges to the bottom.
Sorin slouches a little and takes aim again. His arm swings low this time and the next stone skips five times.
Sorin thinks for a second then widens his stance, aims, and throws again. This stone skips 8 times over the water before falling in, and Sorin pumps his fist in the air in the universal ‘booyah’ gesture.
He runs back to the stone and scribbles a bunch of notes before he traces in 3 more rocks.
Actually, i like this scene so much that we’ll end it here. I don’t need to bring in anything else because this so perfectly captures little Sorin; desperate, and eager to learn about how the world works.
. . . a daydream about dragons 🗡️
. . . a daydream about dragons 🗡️
Little Zavari is staring up at the old tutor, her eyes barely even blinking. Some time into the story, without her realizing it, it has become a song, a glorious battle ballad.
Her great grandfather, Raenef, was in the cave. His band, The Four Companions, were bruised and battered, but hope had not been defeated. Raenef touched his hand to his horns and suddenly an orb of light flared around them. A roar sounded out, rattling the very stone of the cave, cracking the black onyx so that it shivered in fear. Then Raenef opened his great wings and soared straight for the HellDragon. It sent waves of fire at Raenef, but his shield held, the light making an arrow as he charged. Raenef darted up and up at his fearsome flying foe, the cones of fire got smaller and tighter, until he was there at the beast's mouth. The Demon King dropped the lit shield of magic, and the Dragon grinned in the fresh darkness. It roared, ready to shoot out lances of molten diamond, but as soon as it opened its mighty beak, Raenef was there, inside its mouth! He rammed his horns up and through the roof of the HellDragon’s mouth. And as chunks of its brains dripped down Raeneff’s chin, he laughed in triumph!
And so on.
Eventually Yofess slows his fingers and sets the Mbira down on a chair. He looks at Zavari with the clever grin of a sly old fox and winks. “But, that’s just boring old Hellstory. Some dusty old song about an old King, right?” Then he chuckles at the Tiefling child's open mouth.
“Well…” She says slowly, “If more text books were like that…”
“Ah, so more about adventures, huh?” He chuckles and picks the Mbira up again. “So what should we talk about next?’ He asks with the excitement of all teachers who finally get their students interested in something.
“Do you think, maybe,” a shy Zavari looks down at her desk, and once again runs her finger over the delicate inlaid lines, “some more about my older family?”
Yofess is standing looking down out the window, and a serious shadow crosses over his countenance. He shifts the kind old smile back on his face and turns to Zavari. “I know just the story.” He sits down and places the Mbira on his lap, plink-plucking out a soft melody. Not a ballad or an anthem for a rising song of brave battles, but a gentle background rhythm. His fingers tap the keys more as a way of helping him think, than anything else.
“This is a story from long after your Great Grandfather, High King Raenef the Second - may his wings hold us forever - conquered these Hells, and long after The Great Bleed (the time when worlds collided and realms seeped into each other, the opening of rifts between planes). This is a story of cities rising. The peoples of earth had come in The Bleed, and they joined us in settling the Hells. Humans, and Dwarves, and Elves, and Ogres, everyone worked together, cracking the stone, grinding it to sand, and learning to grow new plants; like the Gehena nut, and the Jahim beans. Cities grew and grew, and eventually, as you know, your Grandmother, Doraxii the Wise, ascended to the throne of King, and Raenef ascended to High King in his old age.
“These Humans and Orcs, and Drow and other Earth races brought many things with them, including your mother. But along with the beans and trees, something else they brought with them flowed in, and it began to seed.” His tone grows ominous and the tune shifts to something in a minor key. “It took root in the mind, sprouting, not in soil, but in whispers. In back rooms and in alleys its name took form, a filthy idea, a kind of insanity cooked up by some human in a world of peace.
“Democracy.” He spits out the word and the music stops as he wipes at his mouth.
“Some silly idea where people asked ‘Why should he be king?’ ‘Why should she rule?’ ‘Why should they be the mayor here?’ They gathered and grew, and even convinced some demons. Our people should’ve known better, we were here when the land was fresh and writhed under foot. We broke and tamed the Hells, and we knew the power it took. But, these people, these … outsiders from foreign lands, they kept asking ‘Is it fair?’ ‘Did we choose this?’ ‘Why should they be in charge, just because they are strong?’ ‘Maybe they cleared the way, but we are civilized now.’” Yofes sighs, “Zavari, maybe those thoughts work in other lands. Maybe they even work well, and maybe the people are right about people leading themselves, in their own way. But, not here. Not in the plains of Hell.
“There was a coup. Many people on both sides yelling and fighting. It went on for weeks in the capital, until finally Raenef was summoned. He had to be. Zavari, the turmoil was too much, the land began to writhe underfoot again, buildings shook and fell. The shouts of fighting and protest had reminded the stones of the old days, the lands and caves were thirsty once more for the anguished screams of the damned!
Yofess seems to get tired, his fingers slow and eventually stop plucking at the keys. “That’s how he died, Zavari, your Great Grandfather, High King Raenef the Second - may his wings hold us forever - conquered the land anew. He poured himself into it, and fought back Hell itself so we could once again live in peace.”
A tear falls on the Mbira.
“I only hope that the people will remember; here, strength still matters.”
. . . alone in the woods with mushrooms 🌿 🎲
. . . alone in the woods with mushrooms 🌿 🎲
Cypress is standing as still as he possibly can. He's barely even breathing as if he’s auditioning for the role of store mannequin. Except that when the little woman gets closer, he lets out an involuntary gasp.
She is only a few inches tall, and seems to be naked, though it’s hard to tell in the glow emanating from her. As she gets close, Cypress can tell that what he first took for gossamer wings, like the wings on dragonflies or bees, are actually tiny bird wings; they look more like the wings of a hummingbird as she approaches. But, what makes Cypress gasp, is her skin. It swirls and changes as she moves, it seems to have some sort of spirals or paisley within that is constantly shifting. And even more than that, she is translucent. He can see through her body as she floats around examining him.
Cypress catches his head drifting to watch her circle him, then snaps his head forward trying not to move again.
“Why are you staying so still?” The little woman whispers. Her voice sounds like a summer breeze that decided to get curious about him. “I know you can see me, so why do you still try and hide?” She asks, her whole body tilting with the question.
A full range of options runs through young Cypress’s mind, but he decides to try the blunt truth. “I - I’m not sure.” His shoulders fall as he relaxes and takes a breath. “I guess,” he says, looking at her, “because no one else will ever believe I DID see you.”
Bluebells
She holds her hands up to her mouth and giggles through them. It sounds like the ringing of Bluebells. “Of course they will, silly.” she taps his nose and pirouettes away in the air, “You just need to tell the right people.”
Even at a young age, Cypress is a little bit cynical about people. “Hmm..”
“At the Temple of Sheela,” the tiny woman sings, “they will know my name.” She lands to sit on a branch, and kicks her legs back and forth. “The priest there can guide you, and teach you. About me, and about the forest, and about life, and everything.”
With her wings resting, Cypress can finally get a good look at them. They arch back behind her like rainbow colored dove’s wings. In awe, he says, “You’re - you’re not just a fairy are you?”
There is a beat of silence before she laughs again and falls backwards off the branch. Her wings flutter to a blur and she hovers in front of him again. “Of course not. I am an angel.” She stands on a leather leaf and looks up at the sunny sky, “An angel for the Goddess Sheela.”
Cypress tries to take this all in with a respectful silence, but his young brain can’t help it, it needs more. “Then why are you-”
“For her will.” the little angel says with a contented sigh. “She bid me come down the tree to this world, and bring life back to this place” She pirouettes again with her arms waving out to the trees all around. “This tree used to be a holy site, long long ago, and Sheela has willed that it will be again, long long from now. But first, I must bring life, and let it grow here fresh and new, under her glory.”
I have no clever way of casting off here, other than to say that in the sewers, the adult Thug Muggers continue to make their way, pulling and pushing and coaxing the cube along the dark hallways underneath Nibiru.
“I'm sure it doesn't matter to you what happens to a thief but to me--they're the only family I've got! I have to do something-- I can't let them die!”
-Raenef —Lee Yun Hee, “Demon Diary: Volume 2”
Table talk:
I will be working with the other players here to get the other backstories up like Cypress’s. Players, feel free to send me anything you want included on your character page; links, pictures, etc.
I have a plan for some things in the next few sessions. Just like this one was a bit unusual, things might get a bit weird for a little while, but please trust and bear with me. i have a plan and i think you all will really enjoy the end result.
Thank you, again, for putting up with the shifting tenses and perspectives. I hope i did a good job of encapsulating the thoughts of the players and the portrayal of the characters here. Again, if you would like to read the transcriptions for the game play and for the characters own words, I have attached it HERE below the map pictures.
K: Gave Ashley her updated card. For those of you who didn’t see, there are some stats and abilities that Akris gains once he is properly soul-bonded with Sorin. And I actually, you might wanna change on that, I put the wrong thing there and his attack is a half d4, not a solid d4.
A: Damn.
S: (mumbles something about Ashley marking her sheet)
K: I was trying to be clever, I should know better.
A: I will have to figure out how to represent the half at some point, without touching the card.
S: (something about a dry erase marker? She’s so hard to hear sometimes)
A: It’s just gonna rub off
K: I talked with everybody this week about backstory, and gotten a pretty good idea of at least the basics for everybody. I’ve gotten Sorin’s typed up backstory, at least for now, Rae’s at least for now, and Cypress’ is up. I’m still gonna update character sheets, if everyone can send me an updated character sheet list and spell list, that would be hugely beneficial for me. And ki list for you.
S: I assumed so.
K: That would be hugely beneficial for me so I can—cause I do wanna include on those, sort of character profiles, like I did for Cypress, the character sheet. Especially just so if something gets lost, we have some sort of backup. I’d rather spend three hours getting them all set up and have them than spend an hour when it actually happens.
I hope you all enjoyed Cubert and Guadacube.
D: I did.
K: Good. Personally, Guadacube is my favorite because it’s just, it’s more ridiculous than Cubert.
S: I enjoyed it.
K: And then the last thing I’ve got for table talk—actually I have two things, but the last big thing is please remind me for anyone who casts a fire spell, that does any fiery stuff—
A: Burning.
K: --that is normal fire, that isn’t sacred fire or hell fire, remind me about fire damage. I think I’m missing that when you guys are fighting creatures that are flammable. So, please help me keep on that.
A: (inaudible)
K: Last thing I’ve got here to table talk…I have…sort of a thing that I’m planning on, without saying more than that. And I think I’m gonna just implement it naturally. It’ll be obvious when it happens. If you guys feel like it’s a bad call, and you wanna do things differently, feel free to tell me, and I’ll sort of point it out more when it happens. I’m gonna be playing around a little bit with story, but yeah. But what I’m trying to say is that as I do some more adventurous storytelling things, if part of it is annoying or something, please let me know that.
We’ll also say with the character backstory stuff, anything that you guys make later, if you guys come up with more stuff later, let me know, I’ll go ahead and add them, and if there’s any images that you have that you want included, whether it’s drawings of the character, or pictures or, you know, some meme that you found, like I do with the regular things that you want included, please feel free. Diedrik, I am working on making an insignia, a torn off insignia patch for you.
D: Sick.
K: So, as everybody knows, I like making those little things. Uh, the other thing that I forgot to mention, that I think I put in the chat, is that I, with all of the backstories, I am taking some part of that and the big reward for backstory is there will be some sort of bonus. I think Diedrik can vouch that the bonus I offered him is a pretty cool one.
D: It’s very fitting.
K: The way it works is I’m sort of, when an idea hits me about that as I read it, I will make you an offer because I want it to be something fairly unique, and so I’ll make an offer. And if you’re like, “No I don’t think that really fits,” then that’s great. So yeah. And then I’ll also say, with the conversation we had last week that I typed up in the end table talk on the last summary about how I sort of decide different magic things for people, that’s a big reader wheelhouse item for me when it comes to books that I read, is magical mechanics. Diedrik, if you remember in Patrick Rothfuss’ books, all of the stuff about alar, and the moving of weights and things like that, that shit is my bread and butter when it comes to fantasy, I love it. And because it’s sort of relevant to what we’ve been talking about, I will probably be doing, at least for a while unless there’s something particularly apt, I’ll probably be throwing in a bunch of those quotes for a while just to sort of throw in some of the ideas and some of the inspiration I get and some of the wild trajectories of different ways different authors portray magic working. With that, fire up—my little engine here. I don’t know why I said fire up, whatever. But I’ll go ahead and give us a starting quote, and we will be on our way.
K: “The brownie would have had to be super powerful to pull off anything like that. On a basic level, you need consent and compliance to perform magic on someone, and the human body is the most resistant thing there is to magic. That’s because it’s a vessel of will. So, to pull of a spell like that would be quite a feat. I suspect the brownie included some sort of psychosomatic suggestion, as opposed to any real binding of your intestines by a magical umbilical cord. The fae are known for their use of glamour. Suggestion is more likely to succeed than brute magic on a person.
A: Hashtag pot brownies.
B: I was gonna say, pot brownies.
A: *Laughs*
S: Yeah.
K: Rain drips off awnings in the main square of Nibiru as people bustle around buying and selling. It’s a busy morning, despite the rain, and many people find themselves stopping and cursing the mud as boots splash in puddles. Most people are hoping the rain will quit soon so they can set up for lunch, but one industry wants it to keep on coming. It’s gonna be a good few days for the bath houses here in the city. But we aren’t in the city, we’re down below, in the sewers. So what are the Thug Muggers doing down here in Vancuber?
D: I’m gonna rip you apart with my bare hands.
(laughter)
K: Ari is leading the party, holding tin wooden crate lids in one hand, and using the other to cast thaumaturgy to make little scurrying rat shadows along the wall. Cypress is following her, waving the dead stirge, and occasionally re-situating their crate lid to keep carrying it. Sorin is right behind the cube, holding his crate lid up in both hands in case the cube changes directions, and occasionally peeking over the top like he’s afraid the cube will notice him. Every few steps, the chain bumps against his tin board, and the sound startles him into almost dropping it. Finally, at the back, both of Rae’s hands are holding on tight to the chain. She steps right and left, throwing her body weight around as a counterweight to keep the cube on a straight path, like a small child trying to walk a Great Dane.
S: *Laughs* Me walking a big dog.
K: All right, so that’s where you guys are at. (Inaudible) that’s a lot of your strength checks is sort of keeping it straight by increasing pressure on one side or the other to stop it from veering off to one side.
(maps are being arranged, someone has messed up a blanket)
K: All right. So you guys have your positioning.
A: So we need to go to the left.
K: You guys just need to keep on comin’ south. So, Cypress, give me a charisma.
D: 15.
K: All right. I’m gonna make you give me the flavor text. What are you doing to keep this cube interested in the stirge?
D: It’s like dangling a worm-on-a-string in front of your cats. Kinda wigglin, up and down a lil bit, hits the ground, kinda drag it.
K: Kay.
D: There’s juice flyin’ everywhere, it’s making really gross sounds.
S: Sloshing sounds.
D: Just little, like, spatter sounds.
K: The cube does get it, maybe a couple inches of a wing as you sort of reach forward and pull it back.
D: Well, yeah, you gotta let it get it a little bit so it stays interested.
B: It’s a-bitin’.
K: So that’s happened a few times, so this dead stirge now is kinda slowly falling apart.
S: Ew.
K: Like any cat toy that sees a lot of use.
D: Yeah.
S: Do we still have two?
K: No.
S: Okay, that’s what I thought, that’s what I thought.
A: I have blood.
S: No. You’re behind us.
A: I’m in front of you.
K: Rae, give me a strength, just to see how things are going.
S: I’m so scared. 10.
K: It also rolled a 10. What’s your dex?
S: My dex, uh, plus two. 14, whatever.
B: I cannot imagine that a cube is very dexterous.
A: It beat me in dex.
K: Yeah but that’s not…
S: You have a good dex, don’t you?
A: I do have a good dex. I have a 16 in dex.
K: Might be a four, I can’t remember, that’s why I’m pulling it up.
A: Plus four dex? On a nat 20 roll?
S: Yeah, but it also rolled a nat 20.
A: Yes, (inaudible)
K: Huh.
A: Huh?
K: Okay. I was wrong before. Oh well.
A: It’s fine.
K: So, it starts to pull really hard against the chain, and you notice the hook start to rattle on the chain, and you very carefully sort of keep the chain in line to keep the hook on it as you guys go forward. All right, so you guys are at the next corner, here. How are you keeping it in line and from moving—what are you guys doing to keep this…
S: Not going to the left
K: Yeah.
A: I can shoot firebolt at it.
S: No, you cannot.
B: No, you cannot.
S: I swear, if you do it one more time, I’m knocking you out and leaving you here.
B: Let the stirge get you.
S: The stirge can have you. You’re the offering to the stirge.
B: I think I will cast thaumaturgy again and…what else sounds tasty in a sewer?
D: I mean, it’s been getting bites of this stirge, so stirge sounds would be acceptable. The other one lost interest in your stirge sounds because it wasn’t getting anything.
S: It wasn’t getting any stirge.
B: That’s fair. I’ll do a stirge sound.
K: Kay. Go ahead and give me that charisma.
S: (laughs)
B: Uhhh, it’s a 16.
K: Kay. It is indeed interested in you.
S: Oh-hoh.
A: Nice.
S: Go, cube, go.
K: Rae, give me a strength.
S: Aw. I missed.
D: We should just put rollerskates on her and see what happens.
B: (laughs)
K: I should mention you guys are now to the point where there is water on the floor.
S: 15?
A: We can—we can—shuffle board it!
B: Slip’n slide!
S: Uh, curling, go! Curling powers, activate! (laughs)
K: That’s how that works.
S: It is!
D: You gonna use your staff as the broom? Cause I’m not using mine.
S: I guess it could go out in front of us, I won’t have to be out in front.
A: We could hit it with the tin.
S: Hit what with the tin?
D: We’re not hitting it!
S: The cube? We’re not hitting the cube, it’s gonna come back.
K: As you guys turn around the corner…
A: Bait?
S: More bait. We just need to catch one of the crawly hands and put it on a leash. Isn’t the crypt (inaudible)?
K: It is.
S: Okay. At first, I didn’t think that it was closed for a second.
A: We have to open a gate.
S: Yeah, but we’re not there yet.
B: Yeah, we’re not there yet.
S: Not there yet.
K: You turned around the corner. Rae, right as you are turning around the corner, a giant spider hits you—
S: Can I throw him over the cube at you guys? Just throw it at Ari. Sorry. It’s just one spider?
K: Yep, it is one—
S: How big is giant?
K: This is a small giant spider, we’ll say.
A: A small spider the size of a large spider.
K: We’ll say this is a baby giant spider, so like a large spider, not a full-on huge giant spider. So it bites at Rae and hits for five damage.
S: Geez. Lost my eraser again.
B: All right, you said five damage?
K: Correct.
A: Our health is now the same!
S: Ah, jesus.
A: That’s almost max for me.
S: Wow.
B: Was gonna say, and I can’t do anything cause I’m in front of the cube.
S: I was gonna say…
K: Sorin, you’re not quite there yet, so Rae, it is your attack.
S: So I can tell my staff to attack it without me having to let go of the chain.
D: Yeah.
K: You can…but I’m gonna give it disadvantage since this is the first time you’ll be doing it, or since this is the first time of you doing, I will give you advantage on maintaining the chain if you swing it.
S: If I swing it?
K: If you attack with the staff.
S: But then I have to let go of the chain.
K: No, I’m saying—
A: One-handed.
K: Yeah, one-handed, I will give you advantage on making sure, I won’t make you roll with anything with the chain if you attack with your staff.
S: I’m gonna smack it in the face. 18.
K: Go ahead and roll damage for me.
S: Yeah, I’m…cause I have written down, “two d4s,” is that one-handed or two-handed?
K: Ummmmmm we’re gonna say that’s two-handed.
S: Okay, that’s what I thought.
K: I’ll have to double-check that, so for now just give me a d6.
S: It just says “when wielded.”
K: Yeah, I forgot that that’s one or two-handed.
S: So a 6. Oh.
B: That’s never good.
S: I know.
A: When the DM smiles, it’s already too late.
S: I can’t imagine why.
B: Yeah. It’s not like we have experience or anything, you know.
S: Like I’m not ever paranoid ever in my life all the time or anything. Crazy.
A: Hashtag therapy.
K: Okay.
S: Okay…
K: You hear a crack. A crack of wood. The sound not like something breaking, but maybe like the sound of breaking. You know the difference in wood cracking sounds at this point, and this is not the sound of boards breaking, this is the sound of a thick heavy stick cracking.
S: What the fuck?
K: And you hear this sound, and then you hear a familiar voice, and it’s familiar in part because it’s trying not to be angry and just be disappointed, but it’s definitely also angry, as the voice says, “Raelle Woodmaker!”
S: No.
K: And you realize that in a moment of blind rage, you cracked your wooden training staff over the head of this village boy. You are eight years old.
S: Stop. I hate this.
A: Tragic backstory (inaudible)
K: This is what I was talking about that I wanna try out some story things. If you guys don’t like this, we’ll just keep going.
A: Keep going, this is great.
K: But Raelle, you are eight years old.
S: A….child.
K: And a child was making fun of you, and your family, and the temple, while you guys were on a mission to do some helping. And you, once again, hit one of your fits of rage, and you have now hit him over the head with your training staff hard enough to crack the wood.
S: Damn.
D: That kid is dead.
S: Yeah, that kid is fucking dead.
D: If that’s an eight-year-old kid, that kid is dead.
K: Actually, at this point, I’ll tell you a little bit of what my brain is thinking, and I’m assuming, since this isn’t the first time, that they don’t give Rae really hard practice staffs anymore. They give Rae, not like balsa wood, but not, not balsa wood. (laugh)
A: This isn’t the first time.
S: It’s not the first time.
A: You’re eight!
S: Yeah, and it’s not the first time, leave me alone.
K: So,
D: Hey, my brother cracked me in the head with a baseball bat when he was younger than that.
S: Ooh.
D: It was aluminum.
K: So, this voice has shouted, “Raelle Woodmaker, what have you done?!”
S: Beat the shit out of him. (laughs) Okay, that’s terrifying.
D: Are you having a PTSD flashback in the sewer right now?
S: Yeah, I was like, is this like, some PTSD shit in the middle of this, right now? I mean, I guess I’m gonna stop and look for my fuckin father.
K: Oh, he’s there.
S: Where?
K: He is walking towards you,
S: That’s horrifying.
K: He’s walking towards you, and the carpentry mallet that he was using, and the chisels, and the plane that he was using are all hovering off to one side next to him, just hovering in the air as he walks over to you, clearly with some sort of scolding intent.
S: Yeah.
K: His red and purple robes are—
D: Hideous.
K: --billowing in an unnatural wind.
S: Like it’s not there, but it is there.
K: Yes.
D: Some dramatic-ass Darth Vader bullshit.
S: Yeah, damn.
D: Making his cape flow in space where there’s no wind.
S: I mean, I know my reaction to PTSD flashbacks, but I would hope Rae doesn’t have that.
K: Let me clarify, this is not a PTSD flashback.
S: Okay, good.
K: This is a scene we are playing out of your childhood, and this is my dramatic storytelling technique of you swing, and then we cut to the child of you swinging, and here we are, now we’re talking about you as a kid. We’re doing a backstory scene that I have just shoehorned into the middle of other things because I’m sadistic.
A: (laughs)
S: Tortured. Okay, that makes more sense. I’m gonnna say, “He had it coming!”
K: “We have been over this! You are supposed to be above these petty squabbles!”
S: “Then tell other people to stop their shit!”
B: Oh, you’re droppin an F-bomb at eight years old?
S: (laughing) Yes. I’m mad!
K: He reaches for your staff.
S: (gasp) No. No, I need that.
K: That’s what you’re doing? Is gripping and running? Give me a contested strength, with disadvantage cause you’re a child.
S: Since I’m a fucking eight-year-old.
(Round of OOOOOOOOOOOHHH)
S: Nat 20 and a 17.
K: Well, your dad, with advantage, rolled a nat one.
D: He wasn’t expecting you to run for it.
K: Give me a minute to catch up my notes.
S: I used my nat 20 on that.
B: That’s good though! That’s fun story time, cause dad got a nat 1, and you got a nat 20.
S: Just deck him in the face and run away.
A: You gonna hit your daddy?
S: Rae has some daddy issues.
A: She’s the opposite of you.
S: Yeah, I don’t have that.
A: You have mommy issues.
S: Yeah, I know.
K: While this has been taking place, the kid that you hit has been pointing and laughing at you.
S: He should be fucking dead!
(laughter)
K: Okay. Give me an attack roll.
S: Aw, I don’t wanna attack him again, I wanna run away.
D: Hit him again!
A: Hit him while you run.
D: He’s laughing at you! Hit him again!
S: Sweep his legs as I run away. Fuck. Four.
K: Kay. So you go to pull the staff out of your dad’s hand, and you successfully pull it out, and you sort of yank it, and it goes and flies back, and almost hits this kid again, and you stop it just in time.
S: Oh my god.
K: We are in bullet time now, as your dad again tries to go for the stick.
S: Leave my stick alone!
K: So, once again, give me, this time it’ll be a dex, again with disadvantage.
S: With advantage, or disadvantage?
D: DISadvantage. You’re eight years old, you don’t have advantage on anything but stupidity.
S: A 19 and a 9.
B: That’s a 6.
S: That’s worse.
B: Do you have a modifier for dex?
S: Uh, two.
B: So eight.
S: Eight. Did he get a nat one?
K: Nope.
S: Darn it. I can try.
K: So, good news, you held onto your staff. Half of it.
S: (gasp)
B: Oh, no.
D: You heard it crack.
K: Because your dad grabbed one end and you grabbed the other, and right where it cracked, it breaks as he tries to take it away from you. You run, and as you are running away, cause I assume you are running completely away, you’re running to hide.
S: Yeah, just gonna go find somewhere alone.
K: As you run away, he chucks the broken piece after you.
D: What!
S: He’s a mean dad!
B: Oh my god!
K: No, not in an attempt to hit you, it’s in exasperation, but not in an attempt to hit you.
D: Oh! Oh! But we’re supposed to be above these petty disputes! He’s gonna chuck a piece of broken wood? He’s throwing a hissy fit right now because he wasn’t quick enough to take a broken stick from his eight-year-old kid?
S: I’m a badass eight-year-old kid.
D: I don’t know about you, but I’ve never lost a fight to an eight-year-old.
(laughter)
S: Well that’s fair, I haven’t either.
D: Not even when I was six.
K: You hear, as you run off, the children behind you, the friends of this kid, shouting, having just heard your dad call you by your full name, Raelle Woodmaker, you hear them shouting, “Run away, run away, little lord wood-breaker!”
S: Wow, kids are mean.
D: Kids are also lame as hell. That’s not a sick burn.
K: It’s not, but it’s a way of being disrespectful, and they’re six, so that’s what they do.
D: You cracked a six-year-old over the head?
K: Eight-ish, whatever, they’re humans vs an elf, it’s all equivalent.
A: They’re tiny.
D: He’ll be fine then, his skull’s not done anyway. He’ll bounce back, it’s whatever.
A: He just gets an extra soft spot.
K: You are just outside a village, near the sort of artisan houses, woodmakers and blacksmiths, all the noisy houses that tend to stay sort of near the edge so the people can sleep and not have to worry about smelling the dog piss from a tannery. Where are you running to?
S: I was gonna run to the spot that I usually go to, where they keep the animals that we have.
K: Yeah, you run, we’re gonna pause there.
B: Ooh.
S: Oh.
K: I’m gonna write this down before I forget. Sorin, you’re up.
A: Okay. Is the spider still alive?
K: Yeah, it’s bloody, but it’s still alive.
A: I cast firebolt.
K: Kay.
A: 16.
K: Kay, gimme that damage.
A: 9! (inaudible)
S: (inaudible) that spider would be murdered.
B: Is it still alive?
A: Is it missing half its eyes?
B: Cronchy.
S: Half its eyes?
A: Is it burning?
S: Is it flammable?
A: Is the spider flammable? Can I flambe it?
K: Take two non-lethal damage.
A: What?
K: The firebolt lands right in front of the spider, which is a good thing. You hit right under its belly, and blow it up and back, getting underneath and charring it. When you do, a piece of brick pops up off the ground, flies back at your face, and it hits you in the scar on your eyebrow.
B: Are we gonna have to pay for that…Right in the nog.
S: Right in the head. Oh, no.
K: Sorin.
A: Dramatic backstory, unlocked.
K: You are, that doesn’t tie in quite as well as I would’ve liked. Oh well. Sorin, you are about eight years old, and you are picking yourself up off the floor and your forehead is bloody because you just fell down the stairs. That is where you are at.
S: What a dork.
A: Did I fall or was I pushed?
K: Tell me, actually. This is in the orphanage…no, I’m gonna say you fell. I’m gonna say you were running down the stairs, you were running cause you were excited for something, and you were too excited, and you tripped and fell down the stairs. So, what were you running excitedly towards?
A: Mateo was coming back from, he’d been apprenticed at the church.
K: Not this early on, but he would’ve doing some sort of clerical work. He would’ve been some sort of apprentice scribe, probably. So, yeah, all right, so you’re excited to see Mateo.
A: I’m like, rubbing where it’s bleeding.
K: The stairs are right next to the door coming in, and as you sort of stand up and dust yourself off, the door opens, swings open, and hits you.
(laughter)
K: Because you are nature’s punching bag. And Mateo walks in, and looks at you, and is just, like, “Wha-? I--? I’ve been going for like four hours! What….? You’re bloody, and—what?”
A: I yell his name and throw my arms around him like a hug. I’m a kid!
S: I guess you are small.
A: He’s the only person I care about in the world.
B: How old is Mateo?
A: 11.
B: 11, okay.
D: He hasn’t hit his growth spurt yet, then.
K: No, he’s still small. Mateo hugs you and then pries you off of him to get a good look at your forehead. Then as he is looking at you, you’re still in front of the stairs, and he is sort of looking at you, and as he raises his hands in exasperation, one of the caretakers comes around the corner and sees a bigger child with his hands up in the air, and smaller child with blood on his face, and thinks the worst. And immediately rushes over and holds Mateo’s hand back to stop him from, quote-unquote, hitting you again, and looks like she’s about to swat Mateo for hitting you.
D: What the fuck is going on with all the adults in people’s childhoods? Everybody else is like, “My dad was emotionally abusive,” “oh, I grew up in an orphanage, and I only cared about one person ever,” meanwhile, literally at the same time, Cypress is halfway across the country, picking flowers.
(laughter)
D: Just like, no trauma to speak of, just vibin’. He’s kicking his feet in a pond, he’s doin whatever
A: Sorin…screams “stop” and then like, shoves her.
D: Oh my god.
S: Bold choice.
K: Sure.
A: You know.
K: Give me an attack roll with disadvantage, just a flat.
A: Nat one!
(laughter)
B: That tracks.
D: He trips, and busts his nose, and then the caretaker is like, oh right, you’re the clumsy one.
K: You go to push this caretaker, and the caretakers who work at this orphanage are sturdy workers. Because not a lot is going on to take care of you guys, they are hauling things all the time, they are lifting children constantly, they’re kinda built, and you go to push this caretaker, and you push them so hard, that you push yourself back, trip backwards, and hit your head on the stairs again.
S: Oh my gosh.
A: At least this one was the back of my head, probably.
D: How the hell did you survive to go to school?
K: Both of them turn to look at you, and both of them start laughing.
(laughter)
K: Both of them are laughing at you.
A: I’m glaring.
S: Oh, wow.
A: I am just glaring, fearsomely.
D: You’re eight years old, you’re not crying? Roll constitution to not burst into tears you fuckin eight-year-old.
(laughter)
K: That’s actually a good point.
D: You just cracked your head on the stairs, and your face was already bleeding! You are sobbing uncontrollably!
A: 15.
K: You are definitely not sobbing. You are glaring.
D: So mad he can’t even cry, but he’s sniffling a little bit.
K: Ari, as you make some thaumaturgy sounds—
B: The centipede wanted to see what’s up.
K: A large centipede is rushing at you.
S: So glad we had a spider.
B: Can I react, or am I too busy thaumaturgy-ing to fight?
K: No, it’s gonna get the first attack.
S: Damn it.
K: That is a 16, which is gonna hit.
B: Yeah.
S: Yes.
B: (mocking) Does a 16 hit?
K: So that’s going to be 6 damage.
S: What the fuck? They hit hard!
B: They do.
S: I’m still mad that one knocked me out.
A: That happens to you a lot, though.
S: Look.
K: Wait, hang on. (inaudible) really quick, so it’s gonna be four damage.
B: Oh, thank god! That’s a big difference!
S: Two damage could be life or death!
B: At least to me right now.
K: Now you have a chance to react.
B: If I do a rapier attack, is it one-handed, or do I have to drop? Am I gonna have disadvantage if I don’t—
K: Are you carrying one or two of them?
B: I think I’m carrying two. I think.
A: I have one.
K: Then you have just one, yeah. So, no, you can go ahead and attack, and we’ll give you disadvantage on the damage, just cause you can’t get a full swing in, but the attack will be normal.
B: Kay. That is…hang on I’m doing math.
S: You can do it.
B: I can’t do this. I hate these numbers together. 13! Six and seven are like, my mortal enemy. They hurt my brain.
K: That’s one that I just, instant had memorized.
S: I’m bad at anything eight, I don’t know why. Except ten.
K: What’s your dex?
B: Plus two.
K: Cause that’s a tie. Ah, I’ll give it to you. You guys have a matched dex, too, but oh well. So go ahead and roll that damage with disadvantage.
B: With disadvantage. Four. Wait. I still do eight damage though cause I have plus four. It was a five and a four, so, still do eight damage.
S: Murder the shit out of it. What he gets for interrupting.
B: Yeah, no kidding. Oh, boy, here we go. He’s taking a drink for backstory time.
S: Everyone needs a drink before backstory.
K: You slash at this centipede, this giant centipede, and it rears its head and torso back, and hisses at you, and the hiss gets deeper, and gravelly, and the hiss sounds less like a hiss, and all of a sudden, you are listening to someone speaking in a demonic tongue. Zavari. You are eight years old. You are sitting in a stone desk that is inlaid with gold inlay around the edges. It is very fancy. It is next to a window, and outside the window is a black so black that it’s purpled. It’s gone all the way through black and out the other side, to the point where it’s started to have color again, and there is a tutor standing over you, his old horns kind of drooping over his shoulders. This is an old, old, old demon, and he is explaining some form schoolwork to you. Some sort of educational thing. What subject is he teaching you?
A: Hellstory.
(laughter)
B: I would say some sort of history. Hellstory.
K: All right, I will let it.
B: I was actually gonna say history before she said that.
S: Had to add the pun in there.
B: I was like, history or common, but it wouldn’t make sense if he was speaking in infernal if she was learning common, so.
K: Give me a straight knowledge check.
B: Ho-ho not good! Two.
K: As he drones on, as his infernal sounds like the comforting lullaby of rocks grinding together, you are staring out the window, daydreaming. What are you daydreaming about?
B: The typical eight-year-old of going on an adventure, and fighting dragons and stuff. Stealing stuff.
K: All right. He notices that you are daydreaming, and not paying any attention, and he sighs, and says, “Okay, so what are we fantasizing about today?”
B: Fighting a dragon.
K: Fighting a dragon. All right. And you see a gleam in his eye that you have come to recognize. This is the gleam of an old teacher who knows how to reach his students, and knows how to get your interest. And he looks at you and says, “Oh, fighting a dragon. I s’pose that’s much more interesting than anything I’d have to say. After all, I’m just lecturing you on boring old stuffy hellstory.”
B: “Sorry.”
K: “You aren’t interested in that, you want more adventures, you wouldn’t be interested in anything I had to say about, oh, your great-grandfather, and his fight against the dragons.” Sort of side-eyes, looking down at you.
B: Ari just snaps her head up. “Dragons? Plural?”
K: “Five.”
B: “Five dragons.”
K: “But I’m sure it’s just boring hellstory, and you wouldn’t want to hear about it.”
B: “No, I’ll listen. Can you tell me about this?”
K: “Oh, I suppose.” And he tells you the story of your great-grandfather, what was your great-grandfather’s name?
B: (Inaudible) I don’t know for sure, I’m bad at names.
S: I’m terrible at names.
B: If you’ve got something, I’ll take it. I’m really, really bad at names.
K: The only thing I have will be a very dorky reference that no one will get, but if you want me to, I will put it in there.
B: Sure. Go for it.
K: Kay. You’re great-grandfather’s name was Raenif. He tells you the story of Raenif the Great, as he carved out a portion of the second hell to make it livable, and how he led a band of four heroes into the second hell and they carved into the rocks themselves, they swam through lakes of fire, and eventually they found a hospitable cave, a naturally occurring place, and they started to set up camp when five dragons attacked them. And he tells you of this glorious battle, and without you even realizing, he has taken out, sure as long as I’m going with books I’m currently reading, has taken out a mbira. Are you familiar with what a mbira is? It’s a basic thumb piano on a wood block, one of a whole class of instruments. He has taken out a mbira and he is now singing to you without you even realizing this. He is singing you the bard’s song of your great-grandfather’s fight with these five dragons. We’ll leave you there for now.
S: That was the cutest backstory. The cutest little eight-year-old.
A: You’re adorable! Then there’s us with our anger issues.
B: I told you, I don’t have a tragic childhood.
S: That’s okay, that’s a good thing.
A: We’re happy about this. One of us needs to be well-adjusted.
B: At least not for now. We’ll get there.
K: Cypress.
D: Yep.
K: You look on to see Ari slice this centipede, it rears up, it hisses, and it sort of falls onto its side and back, gurgling, and it slowly passes in front of you.
D: Okay.
K: Cypress, as you look at this, it reminds you of, not the first time, but one of the early times when you went exploring off in the woods, when you were maybe a year after you were allowed to really go off on your own. And you came across a much smaller centipede that was dying on a log after a bird had picked it up and was trying to eat it on the log, and then you walked up, and since you were not as good at stealth as you are now, you scared the bird away and the bird left the centipede there on the log. And that’s what this sort of reminds you of. I’ll let you take it away.
D: I don’t do anything. It’s natural for birds to eat centipedes, and I interrupted the bird’s lunch. If anything, I feel bad for disturbing the bird.
K: All right. So, where are you walking?
D: I’ll kind of skirt around the log, so that I don’t disturb anything else that might be there, and head off in the opposite direction. Did I see where the bird flew off to?
K: Yeah.
D: It’s just up in a tree?
K: The bird flew off towards the south.
D: I’ll say out loud, “Sorry for interrupting your dinner,” and then I’ll continue on whatever way I was going. Which, I don’t care if that sounds hella stupid, I say that all the time to real animals.
K: No, that’s fine.
D: Cause with my job, I interrupt a lot of animals in people’s backyards. So, I like, one time I was doing this really long yard in this hilly area up near the Twin Cities, and there was a buck just on the other side of the back fence, and it was super early in the morning, like it was just after sunrise, so it was really cool. I don’t remember what I was there to do, but I was just moving around in this back yard, and he was eating, and every now and then he would stop and look at me, and then he would just keep eatin, he didn’t care about anything. I was like, hell yeah, dude, get that breakfast, delicious. I’ve also had turkeys try to attack my work truck. You know. It goes both ways.
B: Turkeys have no fear.
D: They really don’t.
K: You walk on. You are, today, you are going somewhere. You’re going somewhere in these woods that you’ve been before, tell me where you’re going.
D: Probably a big ol’ upturned tree or something. Something that’s fun to climb on. Something with a lot of mushrooms on it. It probably has a lot of mushrooms and moss on it and around it. Big old decaying tree trunk that got toppled over in a storm or something.
K: I dig it. All right. You walk through, and you come to this stump. You found it…is this a place where you sort of set up your own little area, or something that you just recently found?
D: I wouldn’t have done anything to it, I would just sort of sit there and listen to the woods.
K: Kay. But is this a place that you know well, and it’s sort of established for you, or is this a new place, you found it two or three days ago, and you’ve been excited to come back?
D: It’s new, I’m only just old enough to be exploring by myself, so I wouldn’t have had a chance to find it earlier, right?
K: All right. That works. So you come up to it. You’ve been excited to come back here for a couple days now, you didn’t really have the chance cause there’s been chorin’ to do, so you’ve been dealing with that. But today you have a chance, you come back here, and it looks so magical in its own special way. There’s rays of light shining through the trees above, the stump itself is from an old, old redwood, it’s huge. It’s hollowed out, but it is maybe ten feet tall as it lays on its side, there are mushrooms growing all over the sides of it, and at this point it’s started to sink into the dirt, so the dirt has sort of swept up on the sides in the wind, and it almost looks like there’s sort of a ramp to get to the top, where there are roots curling and gnarling up towards the sky. How’s that?
D: Hell yeah.
K: You come up to it, whaddya do?
D: I wanna examine all the mushrooms on it to see if I can identify them.
K: Give me a knowledge roll.
D: Is that intelligence? Nature check. Dirty 20! I know everything about mushrooms, ever!
K: Uh, no you don’t.
(laughter)
K: You recognize a few of em, I’ll say you recognize about half. But with that 20, you see something kind of new that you don’t recognize. Her little wings are beating very, very fast as she darts from mushroom to mushroom, and she’s holding a basket, and going up underneath the mushrooms and combing their gills to collect the spores in this basket, going from one to another, collecting them.
D: Did she notice me yet?
K: I don’t think so, with that 20. With that 20, I’m gonna give you a chance to act first.
D: Do I know anything about what this is?
K: You know in terms of children’s stories, and sort of folk stories and bedtime stories, you’ve sort of heard about things like this. Whether or not you believed it was real, I don’t know.
D: I’m gonna try to very quietly watch. I don’t wanna interrupt or disturb.
K: All right. Give me a stealth roll with disadvantage.
D: That’s dex?
K: Correct.
D: First roll was an 18…second roll is an 18!
(laughter)
S: That’s funny.
K: I’ll just move this into the camera so you can see what I got.
D: Oh, no! (laughter)
K: You got double 18s, I got double sevens, that was fated to be!
D: That’s very fun.
K: You watch this little fairy-like creature dart back and forth carrying this little basket from mushroom to mushroom, scraping the gills, and collecting all of these little spores, and you notice that every now and then, she moves and goes back to a little knot in a small tree nearby, and she puts the basket in, and takes a different basket out, and goes to a different batch of mushrooms, a different kind of mushroom, and does the same thing. She’s slowly collecting from each of the kinds in different baskets.
D: That’s so interesting. Why?
K: Are you continuing to watch? Or are you making yourself known?
D: I don’t know. It’s that situation where you’re like, this is really cool and I wanna ask questions because this is a once in a lifetime opportunity, but also, if I say something, I might just frighten her, and not get any…
K: No, it’s tough, decisions are difficult.
D: It is hard! But if you don’t say anything, and you miss your chance, and you regret it for the rest of your life…
K: I know. I will say in these for the most part, I’m not gonna let this turn into something bad that ruins the rest of your life. It’s just what happens next.
D: Nothing bad happens to Cypress til he’s 45.
(laughter)
K: Oh boy, fucking jealous.
D: He’s a halfling! They live very charmed lives! He didn’t become an adventurer because he’s having a mid-life crisis, he’s having adventures because the goddess was like, “hey, don’t let these idiots die.” And he went, “…fine.” You guys are just another item on a long list of chores for Cypress. Do I know anything, cause there are myths and stories, you said, are there ways you’re supposed to speak to them? Are there any tales about not interrupting their work? Do I know anything?
K: Not really. There are obviously lots of things like that about, you know, wolves, and various really dangerous things, but the only stories you’ve heard about these, are essentially stories about “the little workers of nature” that keep nature running, and up to this point you’ve always thought they were allegorical. You always thought that the “little workers that planted the flower seeds” was just a really nice, grown-up poetry way of talking about seeds making their way into the ground. But there’s never been any, you know, if you talk to them, don’t give them your name.
(laughter)
D: Well, it’s not, the fae, presumably. I’m not gonna interrupt her. I’m just gonna watch.
K: Give me another stealth, just to see if you get noticed or not.
D: Oh, no. Four.
(laughter)
D: I’m too excited.
K: After a good hour of just sitting and watching—
D: Hell yeah.
K: --you see her pull out all of these baskets. There’s a good twenty of them, and she sets them on the ground, and you watch her sift through these spores that look like acorns in her little hands. And there’s another basket where she’s sort of mixing them together, and you watch her take this basket up to the top of this hollowed out tree trunk that’s on its side, forming this big circle in the ground, and you see her take each one and give it a lick, and then stick it to the top of the wood. And then give it a lick, and then stick it to the top of the wood, and then give it a lick, and stick it to the top of the wood. And you watch her do this, and then she turns around, when she’s got to the bottom of that basket, when she turns around to go refill that basket with a new mix, she sees you. And she kind of cautiously sets the basket down by the others, and she looks you over, trying to gauge your intent. What do you do, as she starts to look you over?
D: A very slow wave. Like, the tiniest (demonstrates a small, very nervous wave)
K: You can tell that she’s sort of debating whether or not to put this harvest away, if she’s maybe scared you’re gonna do something and undo all her hard work.
D: I’ll say, “I don’t mean to interrupt.”
K: So she leaves the baskets there, and flutters over to get a good look at you.
D: (nervous sound)
K: And when she does, you can see that she is half transparent. Her whole body seems to have a pattern flowing inside it, sort of like Victorian scroll fretwork or a paisley design, sort of flowing inside of her skin, and other than that you can see mostly through her as she flutters around, and I will leave it there as she starts to examine you. We’ll come back to you.
D: Never been so afraid in my life.
(laughter)
S: Never had a childhood flashback inside a childhood flashback. Like, there was this tree that fell from a storm, and it was decaying. I’d always go sit by it and look at it. It was cool!
B: That’s so neat.
D: Yeah, kids love that shit! I do that all the time.
S: Like, as you were describing it, I was like, that sounds very much like (inaudible)
K: So, we’re back with Rae. Rae, you are running uphill to a little cottage with fresh wood siding, but the wood shingles on top are gray and green and covered in moss and lichen, and you even notice little patches of small shrubs growing on the roof of this cottage. Are you crying?
S: I mean, yeah, probably. Frustrated and angry.
K: Kay. This is a place you know, this is a place you’ve been to. You go around to the back to the goat pens. I know, goats are great. Brooke won’t let me have goats.
B: We can’t keep ‘em in city limits.
K: But you go around to the goat pens, and there is a woman sitting on the back step, who is dressed in serviceable black. The kind of blackish gray that isn’t an ominous, foreboding, magical black, but just doesn’t show stains very well. And she also is wearing a black, pointy hat. This is the village witch. What’s her name?
S: Oh, I’m bad at names. Miss Babbinsbrook. Um…Eda.
D: Pfft, nerd!
(laughter)
S: Uh, yeah, sure, Eda.
K: You know Eda. Eda is kind of a family friend. You don’t know her standing with the family, you don’t know that she’s known your family for years and all this sort of thing. To you, she is that special person in a young person’s life, that adult confidant, that they talk to, that they show off those secret cool things that they find when they’re out walking and put in their pockets, that stone that shaped exactly like a shield for a tiny person, and that sort of thing. That’s Eda for you. What do you do?
S: I’m gonna come running in and be like, “Where are the goats? I want to sit with them!”
D: WHERE ARE YOUR GOATS??
S: Where are your goats? Tell me!
K: She laughs, and it’s charming. Literally.
D: Oh my god.
S: Oh…
K: It is charming and it dispels some of your frustration. It is charming in the way that she is laughing because she’s happy, and not laughing at you, and it dispels some of your frustration. And you realize, well, that’s a dumb question, these are the goat pens and I can see the goats, I don’t know why I just said it.
S: I’m frustrated!
K: But it diffuses some of that anger inside you.
S: Do I know that she can do that?
K: No.
S: Okay. As far as I know, she’s just a comforting person.
D: You’re eight years old and you know that you like to spend time around her.
K: Yes, and I as a DM will say this is charming with no ill intent.
S: Right.
K: This is not, she is charming a child to eat the child, this is the adult who sees the frustrated child, and happens to have a candy that also happens to be nutritious or something, you know, that sort of thing. This is a good, oh I see you’re frustrated, oh, did you know that I have a new fidget toy? That sort of thing.
S: I’m gonna tell her, “Thank you. Every time I’m around you, it feels a lot more comforting than being around other people.”
K: She looks a little sad when you say that. And she taps out her pipe and whistles, and one of the sheepdogs steer the goats over towards you guys, and she pats the space on the back step next to her for you to sit down. And you sit down, and goats sort of come up to you, and you have fun stroking their little goatees, and watching, and that joking play of them trying to eat you, because they’re fuckin goats, they’re like, oh hey, cloth, it’s delicious. And she asks, what happened?
S: I got in a fight with the village, and my dad. Well, the villagers. Not the whole village.
K: I like that, I like that as an actual line. She says, “Why? Why this time, were you fighting?”
S: Well, I hit this kid with my staff, and then my dad tried to take my staff away, but I didn’t want him to cause it’s mine, so I tried to run away, and then he broke it and threw it at me, but not like at me. And then I ran here. Cause I was mad, and this where I go.
D: Did he, though? Did he break it? Or did you crack it in half over a small child’s skull?
S: I was gonna say, no, I broke it, but in a child’s mind, you’re not gonna be like, I did all these things.
K: Your dad…tries so hard.
D: And he got so far?
(laughter)
K: Look at that, the call just ended! (laughter) Oh no, laptop died! See ya later, bye! (Diedrik is flipping off the camera) Yeah, I can do that too!
B: Stop, stop! Children. I’m younger than both of you, stop it.
(Laughter)
K: “Your dad tries so hard to keep the traditions alive, and to keep calm, and he’s always…I don’t think you know this, but he’s struggling with it. I’ve known your dad for so many years, Raelle.” And for the first time, you really notice her age. She’s human. But you realize that the lines on her face, there are more lines than smooth spots, so much that it just looks like it’s a smooth spot. It looks smooth because there’s so much there, and you have this momentary thought of, how old is this human woman? When she says, “You know, he was a lot like you growing up. Well, maybe not. Well…no, that would be nice to say, but it’s a lie. What you do have in common, is that he also ran off a lot. But I’ve talked to your dad a lot. You know that I come to the monastery, and a lot of times, I sit with your dad, and try to help him figure out how to get done all the things that he has to. Because there’s so much going in the world, that needs so much help, and he is struggling so hard to do the little bit that he can. Rae, what started the fight?”
S: I was annoyed at the kid that I hit because he keeps making fun of the monastery in itself. That we’re just…we don’t have any money, we don’t do anything other than come think that we’re helping the village.
K: She looks at you like you’re an adult, and she says, “So let him. He’s just some dumb kid.” And when she says that, you get the impression she’s saying that he’s a dumb kid, but she really is treating you like an adult. She has the air of talking to an 18yo and saying, why are you getting into a fight?
S: Why are you upset?
D: With a child.
K: Why are you screaming into the headset of Call of Duty?
(laughter)
B: Diedrik’s going through it.
D: Look. There is no reasoning with people in Call of Duty chat rooms.
K: True. But she says, “Why bother? The best way, and what your father keeps trying to show you, is the best way to change his mind…well, all right. Second best way, I suppose you do have the best way, which is to physically change the shape of his brain, (laughter) the second most effective way, and the best way ethically, is to change his mind by showing him different.” Rae, that’s the end of your flashback. Sorin! Your head hurts.
A: A lot.
K: And there is Mateo laughing at you, and there is a grownup laughing at you.
A: I am gonna stand up and walk out.
K: Walk or run?
A: Brisk walk.
(laughter)
S: Like walking for an adult but running for a child.
A: I’m trying to look like I’m, yanno, fine and not bothered, but I’m trying to get out of there as quickly as possible. And I’m mortified.
K: Are you leaving the orphanage? Are you going out in the street?
A: I’m walking out.
K: All right, where you going? You know the neighborhood fairly well. For context, you are in the southwest part of town, near the farms and the lesser square.
A: The square with the blacksmiths and all that are around there, right?
K: No, that’s in the northeast.
A: Oh, I thought that would be right there.
K: No, that’s not where the orphanage is. That’s where you went later, but not where the orphanage is.
A: Okay. So you said I’m by the lesser square and what was the other one?
K: And the farms. This is the area that you’re talking about, you’re down sort of near this area.
A: I’m gonna down by like, the river.
K: Kay. What’re you doing there? Down by the river?
A: Skipping rocks.
K: Kay. Gimme a luck roll.
A: 19.
K: All right. This relaxes you. Skipping rocks makes sense to you. You’re not just really good at skipping rocks, you’re really good at finding the best stones. You’re really good at seeing which stones work really well, and you have an innate understanding of sort of how skipping rocks works. I feel justified in saying that because I did it at that age, when my grandfather taught me how to skip rocks, I spent a long time figuring out how skipping rocks worked, and why, so I’m justifying that. But you are pretty good at skipping these rocks. You really carry them out, you find them, there’s probably a bush where, every now and then you go for a walk, and whenever you find a good stone, you pocket it, and there’s a little bush that has a stack of skipping rocks. And you probably have one of your little notebooks that you’re always writing in, has some drawings of rocks that you thought were particularly good, and you’ve numbered them, and then you’ve numbered how many—
S: These need a spreadsheet.
K: This calls for a spreadsheet! You are making a small study out of this. And it’s working. You are better and better, in your little notebook you’ve seen the shape sort of change, and evolve, and you’re starting to see a pattern emerge, and you’ve made little notes about how far you had your arm back, and how you’ve thrown them, and you are definitely getting this lined up. I’m actually gonna call yours there. I think that’s a good development for you, I don’t think we need another scene with Mateo this time around. I’m gonna call yours there, it’s a good moment for Sorin to end on.
Ari. You just heard the story of your great-grandfather fighting these dragons. And because it’s being told by a talented bard, you feel like you were watching it. Bard magic has that innate ability to really bring things to life, and you saw this whole thing happen. You saw your great-grandfather channel his own magic into his horns, and then headbutt the flame of a dragon to create a bubble shield so the fire wouldn’t hit them. You saw this amazing fight. “But then again, that’s just boring old hellstory, isn’t it,” he says as he put his mbira down.
B: well, that was interesting.
K: Ohh, it was interesting. So, you think learning is interesting.
B: Yeah.
K: “Ah.” I’m gonna leave this a little open to you. Where do you want this story to go? This scene?
B: I think I’d want it to go to talking a little bit more about family history, since I don’t know a whole lot. But not giving away some of it, you know.
K: All right, so pose the question.
B: Do you have any more stories about my great-grandfather?
K: About your great-grandfather, there are lots of stories. I could take you to the library and point you to books, I could sing you lots of ballads, I could tell you of his wooing of the Great Lady, a tale of true romance being an adorable couple that loved each other so. Their love and passion burned bright!”
B: She just makes a gagging sound.
K: He is absolutely pulling that great trope of the parent, the adult who is just loving the fact this kid is like, ewww! You see him think for a minute, and you see a serious look come over his face, and you get that little momentary glimpse of child insight as he says, “Oh, I have a story, I have a story about him for you. This is the story,” and as he starts, you realize that he’s making a point, that among all the stories he could’ve picked, he has definitely chosen this one for a reason, and you realize that it goes a little bit more with stuff that he was lecturing you about, and the stuff that he’s been trying to get you to study for the past couple days. And he talks about your great-grandfather fighting against the uprising near the end of his life. When the lesser hells were more settled as demonic civilization grew more established, and they fought the natural forces, and built cities in the hells, with real infrastructure, and they learned to farm some of the hellbats, and they domesticated the hellbeasts and hellhounds, and things like that, that there was an influx of people from other realms who came in. And they brought something new. They brought a strange import called democracy. Up til then, I’m gonna use a joke I love, up til then, democracy had always been easy to understand. One man, one vote. The king is the man, and he gets the vote. But now, there’s an influx of people who are suddenly starting to question why your great-grandfather gets to be in charge, just because he carved the land from the rock itself. They say things like, “well, that’s great, but that doesn’t mean that he’s qualified to understand export trade.” And he tells you this story of how all these years ago, there was an uprising, and attempted coup, and what crushed it was the fact that hell itself rose up. The land once again became very difficult. Once again, there were hellbeasts that were untamed, that came rampaging through the stones, and it was the strength of him, and your family, and the royal guard that he trained himself, they fought back the unfettered demonic beasts. They fought back the living pain that tried to ooze into the city, and they kept it livable. And that’s how they quashed this uprising, this revolution, was by showing that their strength was needed. We’ll call it there.
A: You’re a princess…?
S: Player knowledge, not character knowledge.
A: I know, me as a player.
B: No, you’re fine, player knowledge, not character knowledge. Demonocracy.
A: I also don’t know anything about hellstory, but you know.
(laughter)
S: Now you do.
A: Player knowledge.
K: Cypress. You notice that this little creature darting back and forth is transparent, that’s where we left off with you. She is examining you, whatcha doin?
D: I’m holding incredibly still. I’ve mastered the art of standing so incredibly still that I become invisible.
(laughter)
K: Their voice sounds like a pan flute. The words come out almost like individual little whistles. As you try to stand perfectly still, and she says, “I know you can see me. Why can you see me?”
S: That’s creepy.
D: I don’t like that.
K: Sorry, I was going for pretty, but there’s some voices—this throat can’t do certain things anymore.
D: Oh, I bet it can’t!
K: It’s been fucked too hard.
(laughter)
A: One time at band camp
S: Oh my god
K: Don’t think I ever had sex with a guy at band camp.
A: Band camp adjacent?
S: He had to think about it.
K: Waterfalls are great.
S: Yeah.
K: So, I’m gonna give myself a strike there.
B: Yeah, yeah, you deserve that.
K: So, yeah. Whatcha doin?
D: He just says that he doesn’t know. He doesn’t know. “Why can you see me?” “I don’t know. I am a teenager. I am unsupervised. This has never happened to me before. No one is ever going to believe me.”
K: Yeah, all right.
D: He says all of that, he’s rambling.
K: Yeah, you say that, and she sort of blinks at you, and says, “Why wouldn’t the priests believe you? The priests can see me.”
(I can’t tell who said what of “Oh?” “What?” “Hold up.”)
D: “I’m not a priest.”
K: She laughs, with a tinkling little bell laugh, that sounds like flowers blowing in the wind, and she says, “Yes you are, I can see it.”
D: Cypress looks at himself. Like, what?
K: She laughs again, and says, “Not here. Not in this spot. But later. Further down the path of time.” She tells you that one person will know why you can see her. “Go to the priest of Sheela. He’ll explain everything.” Now, I’m gonna give you an option here, kinda like I did with Brooke. Do you want to jumpcut to you talking to the priest, or do you want to find out who she is from her?
D: I don’t think she would tell me. Would she tell me? Cause she said, you know, ask the priest. She’s doing stuff.
K: That depends on your actions. If you continue the dialogue, and say, can you tell me about yourself? You know, some version of that, then yes. But if you want to know about her, from her, then you will have to play the curious child with her.
D: Are the stories that I know about fairies, do they connect them really closely with Sheela?
K: What I’ll tell you, is you have pieced together that this is something other than a fairy. It’s fairy-like, but it somehow different. And one of the things that makes you think that, is this creature does not have the sort of classic, gossamer, butterfly and dragonfly-like fairy wings that are transparent. Her wings are transparent like the rest of her, but they are shaped much more like birds’ wings.
D: Oh.
K: So I’m gonna make the decision for you—
D: Well, but if I’m lookin at her, and she’s talking to me, and she’s saying this stuff, all I’m gonna say is, “You’re not a fairy.”
K: Perfect. And that gives me a perfect opening for where I want this to end up at.
D: Cause like, I definitely thought she was a fairy at first, but like, pretty sure fairies aren’t see-throught.
K: And she, one again, has that tinkling little laugh, and says, “No, no, I’m not a fairy. No, everyone can see fairies. Sweet child, I am an angel. (Diedrik chokes) I am an angel—
D: BE NOT AFRAID
(laughter)
K: “I am an angel for the goddess Sheela, and I work in the forest, doing her bidding, and helping the forest grow. These mushrooms and this tree are dying, but this tree was once a holy site, and Sheela sent me to bring it back to life.” And we are going to cut there.
B: The cube is like, “Are you guys done with your backstory yet?”
S: Cube is like, “um, I’m still hungry.”
B: My backstory is, I’m a cube, I’m hungry, can we get goin?
S: We have a backstory for the cube.
K: I’ll give a good backstory quote to pull us out. Specifically thinking of Rae. And actually, from The Demon Diary, Vol 2. I’m sure it doesn’t matter to you what happens to a thief, but to me, they’re the only family I’ve got. I have to do something. I can’t let them die.
S: Ari.
B: Ari. Not there yet, but yes, Ari.
D: Yeah, eventually.
K: All right, so what did you guys think of my random idea?
B: It’s fun, yeah.
S: It’s great.
D: I like that we all just assumed that she was having a PTSD flashback at first, because for us that’s normal. We were like, oh yeah, I did that two days ago, great.
S: I was gonna be very upset if my stick broke.
K: After you just made friends with it.
S: I just made friends with it, and I break it.
K: I will ask you guys to bear with me a little bit in terms of what is happening in the world and how things are taking place for a little bit.
End of recording
