"Would you - your character - be comfortable sharing a nightmare?" he asked, the words bouncing between the boxes of Thin Mints.
"Would I..." our marksman repeated, scratching his chin...
|Mini-Lyli and Goldfish|
...until there would be light, and light indeed, shining from the tip of a bow and a coin in the center of a space. White light, the kind that blinds. The kind that promises. And in this case, the kind containing my own party of adventurers. We were our normal bunch, Flint, Ammo, Melody, and I exchanging wisdoms and waiting out a bout of claustrophobia.
A new fellow had joined us, however. Borrowed from another campaign for use by a new member to the table, Juke Tailorson sat in the center of the arc of the rest of us, showing off an odd...contraption, at least according to the rest of the party. It was a metal barrel with a trigger of sorts. Juke explained how he used it - some sort of magical powder and how, when it ignited, would make a booming noise - and how whenever he did, his problems would...go away.
According to I as Lylien, Juke was not the brightest man. That said, however, I still couldn't resist the clinging fact that the unexplainable could veer towards the magical. I doubted it, though. As he and Flintbread exchanged recipes and ancient Dwarvish tellings, I amused myself in Melody's retellings of what she'd heard about this place, this Thunderspire Mountain and the wondrous riches hidden within it, and the city of Serunkhel, to boot.
It wasn't especially long before we ran into trouble, however, in the form of winged zombies approaching us at harrowing speeds. I intercepted an attacker immediately, my palms bearing the fiery power capable of only I - take that, Boomstick Man - as I watched feathers fall. The others were quick to hop in on the action, the intimidating glares of the statues (Minotaurs holding axes, to be exact) imparting on us no effect.
"There's one in the back!" Flint exclaimed. Even as the only other one besides he that could see in the darkness, I saw...nothing. (Or so my die decided.) Therefore, the rest of the party and I continued attacking the zombies in the front, taking both physical and magical damage. Juke tried his boomstick out, only to fail the attack. I laughed heartily, flinging another fireball. "That's real magic for you," I commented. (In hindsight, a party member got struck by a flaming wing on accident shortly thereafter, but I had made my point.)
We wrapped the session up shortly after the end of the battle, leaving the after-investigation to the following week. The player residing over Juke, who applied a fantastic accent for the better part of the game, asked me about the site, receiving one of my business cards in return. We packed the cookies up and made plans for next week, green flame ("Green Flame!") and all.
*An Acquisitions Incorporated ongoing joke