Information

Gygax
Legacy Name: Gygax

The Nightmare Tigrean
Owner: Marcus

Age: 8 years, 1 month, 1 week

Born: March 8th, 2016

Adopted: 8 years, 1 month, 1 week ago

Adopted: March 8th, 2016

Statistics

• Level: 6
   
• Strength: 14
   
• Defense: 10
   
• Speed: 10
   
• Health: 10
   
• HP: 10/10
   
• Intelligence: 4
   
• Books Read: 4
• Food Eaten: 0
• Job: Store Clerk

The walls of the ancient, underdark cathedral glistened with cool water as it filtered in from the ceiling of the cavern. The drip-drop of steady streams echoed off the walls, a little like rain, but too cold. Too empty. The wet floors tilted as four adventurers crept along its uneven surface. Their shuffles and footsteps joined the sound of the droplets. A half-orc ranger, Pike, held up a hand to his companions--two elves, Kurisa and Patina, and a halfling.

"Hold up," he said in a low voice. "I don't like the sounds we're making. This place is too damn big and there's echoing all over." He took out a sprig of spruce, covered in ash, and shook it in a circle in the air. "Make us silent, make us unseen," he said to his god. The ash scattered around and settled on his boots. The halfling, Twig Tosscobble, rolled his eyes and stepped forward. He slapped his foot down a few times to make a muffled thud sound, far quieter than it should have been. His set of thieves' tools rattled like lint in a pocket.

"You're wasting a spell!" Twig said. "I don't see any slimy troglodytes or goblins creeping around here."

"Hey, how are you seeing, anyway?" The Dungeon Master gestured at Twig's player, Shawn. "It's like, super dark in here."

Shawn hesitated and double-checked his character sheet. Halflings weren't blessed with darkvision, like every other member of the party. He wore no magical item to let him see, nor did he carry any torches. He took -1 to strength, and the Dungeon Master, Taylor, reminded him of that often.

Pike--and his player, Jen--smirked.

"Of course you don't see anything," Pike said. "It's darker than Luthic's nostrils up here." Twig turned to Kurisa, a master of arcane magic.

"Say, can't you take any old rock and give it to me so I can see in the dark?" he said. Kurisa smiled and shook her head.

"It takes eight hours, Twig," she said. "Besides, I already made one for Pike so he can run fast as the Eastbound River." Twig squinted his eyes and dug in his pouch.

Shawn noticed that he'd scrawled "box of matches: 10 9 8 7 6" on his character sheet, tucked in the corner of one of the boxes. Chris, Kurisa's player, leaned over and watched Shawn scratch out the "6."

"Don't," he said and shook his head slowly.

"Don't what?" Taylor said. Shawn shot a glare at Chris.

"He's metagaming!" Shawn said.

"Go ahead and do what you're thinking then, Twig," the Dungeon Master said with a knowing smile.

Twig lit a match--the flame popped and echoed around the cavern walls. Light spilled out from the center of the group of adventurers and glistened off the puddles surrounding them. Their shadows flickered with the flame.

"Well, you're certainly one to talk about wasting a spell!" Patina said. "We may be silent and untrackable by even Aragorn himself, but now every hooked horror and roper can see us coming from a mile away!"

Jen snickered. "Who's Aragorn?" she said. Sensing the party's anxiety, Taylor took hold of the opportunity and cleared her throat.

The light of the candle dimmed without any explanation. Even Pike, Kurisa, and Patina's vision darkened until they saw nothing, not even their own hands and feet. The water seemed to rush faster all around them, its sound dominating all their heard.

"Hey, am I going blind?" Patina said.

"Maybe Twig put out the flame," Jen said and nudged Shawn.

Twig still felt the warmth of the match around his fingertips. It grew hotter, hotter--he dropped it, and the party smelled its dying smoke.

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