Hello, readers! The worst should be now behind our adventurers as they wrap up the journey to Seashine City, the cosmopolitan capital of Italica’s trade. If everything goes as planned and *somebody* doesn’t derail the story in this DnD session, then no one will die and everyone will have a blast! :D

  This will go so smoothly, I can’t wait!

  The caravan has finally escaped the swamp. We are NEVER going back there again. Every merchant is exhausted and depressed, as the losses from the tentacle monster encounter still feel fresh. They couldn’t even give their fallen colleagues a proper mourning before Cedric had urged them on again.

  The party has it worse. The eternally dark sky seemed to fall onto their shoulders as they realized the severity of the situation. Without Assert, there will never be ample security with just the party. Even Cenvin admitted that.

  Speaking of Cenvin, he’s addicted to the Tuner that Assert left behind. Every time he catches a break, he would bring the rod to his temple and activate the trinket. No one has a clue of what aspect of his Worldview that’s changing, but to the party he already seems like a different person. He would talk less and trudge around melancholy.

  Throughout the entire story, Durand had been restlessly sharpening his knife. It can now cut through meat like butter, but he’s showing no signs of stopping his refining.

  The warm mud gradually spilled onto cold rocks. Before, the caravan would wring water from their footwraps. Now, they picked pebbles out of their boots.

  Morale leaped upwards but plummeted as soon as they left the swamp. A few days later, Cedric orders a nighttime meeting.

  “My friends! A few of us have volunteered to speak at the meeting today, so before we discuss the primary agenda, let us hear them out!”

  Disseminated clapping.

  “First, let us hear from Grebs!”

  “Thank you, thank you, Cedric!” Grebs calls cheerfully.

  He takes Cedric’s place at the makeshift podium. Grebs had been a chubby, generous, and kind-hearted merchant who had always been forgiving and understanding of everything that happened. He always remained a background character, so he had everyone’s curiosity about what he had to say.

  He looks around at the audience neutrally, then he begins with: “I have stage fright.”

  Thunderous applause and laughter. He smiles sheepishly and continues.

  “First of all, I would like to thank Cedric for his reliable leadership.”

  An uproar and more applause, mostly directed towards Grebs for his newfound ability to become a noticeable side character.

  “And, uh, what I want to say is…”

  Tensions rise. Everything goes dead quiet to hear him out.

  “I forgot…”

  “That’s fine,” Cedric quickly says. “You can come up again when you remember. And for our next speaker, Kryler!”

  A polite applause.

  “Thank you, Cedric, ‘appreciate it,” he coldly says.

  Kryler is among one of the more unpopular merchants in the caravan. His merciless businessman mindset is acute, even for traders, and he usually makes calculating plans to betray his friends for his gain. Of course, all of these plans are usually minor, but there’s no telling how extreme he will become, given the chance.

  “Five months ago, when we started this venture, we all agreed that casualties can’t be avoided. Thus, per tradition, we made claims on each other’s goods and wares, in the situation that they were dead. I was made the record keeper. I will now announce the inheritors of the goods.

  “Mr. Annias, you have made claims on two of the seven casualties, Yoanl and Posen.

  “Mr. Coart, you have one claim on Loapelfin’s property.

  “Mrs. Heion, you have two claims. Writhweld and Bowar.

  “Mr. Grebs…”

  ...

  “I trust that you will honor the tradition set in place. Thank you.”

  There is no applause for Kryler as he walks down the podium, only grim silence. Cedric replaces him on the stage, also duly dour.

  “Through hardships and battles have we endured. For many of us, this is not our first rodeo, but we will never be numb to the pain. Why do we travel? Why do we trade? Is it wealth? Is it greed? Is it the responsibility of merchants, that cities count on us to deliver supplies to them?

  “Behind me, is one of the tallest mountain ranges in the known human world. During all my years as caravan director, this frozen hell had never failed to claim a life. Indeed, it would be a miracle if all of us got out the other side safely.

  “But I have faith! Faith that you won’t be the unlucky one! Faith that miracles do happen! Faith that this extraordinary caravan can push through one last hurdle! You don’t have a choice!!”

  Cenvin slams a fist into a wagon and stands, drawing Shimmerim, “And that’s the crux of the debate!”

  They lock eye contact with each other.

  “I do have a choice! I refuse to be railroaded by Diem!”

  “Wha-I’m not-” Cedric stammers.

  “‘Free Will’ is false, a lie made up by Diem to keep us immersed in this imaginary world! Sacrificing children, murdering… a certain Merc, terrorism on Italica City, Brett’s condition… all choices Diem made us do! We didn’t have a say in these! He’s typing the very words I am saying! Diem is the villain!”

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  “I think we should rest for today,” Cedric hastily announces. “People aren’t feeling themselves.”

  The merchants begin to file away.

  “I will not be censored! I refuse to keep silent! I quit, I quit the campaign!” Cenvin fervently blubbers, foam flying out of his mouth as Durand and Lenny desperately hold him back from skewering Cedric.

  That’s enough! PAUSE THE SESSION!

  “HOW DID YOU TWEAK YOUR WORLDVIEW TO MAKE YOU ACT LIKE THIS!?”

  An unarmed strike against Cenvin. 15 to hit. 3 bludgeoning damage.

  Durand huffs with rage, his invisible fist, hidden against the moonless sky, raised for another attack. Watching queerly from the side, Lenny scratches some pebbles out of his fur.

  “Multiattack’s a funny one, eh?” Durand jabs.

  Cenvin’s bloodied mouth tries and vapidly conjures some sounds. He collapses against the wagon, breathing heavily for his life. Lenny jumps in front of Durand, his arms outstretched as a plea for peace.

  “He’s on the verge of dying!”

  “Deserved,” Durand gasps. “I had a long day, Cenvin, and now I want to play Dungeons and Dragons to relax. This is what I get? I’m sure Diem agrees.”

  Lenny places his hand on Cenvin’s shoulder and erroneously casts Cure Wounds. His eyes light up, spit out some blood, and shamefully cover his face.

  “Give up the Tuner. It’s doing more damage than good. Assert was wrong about you, you never had any hope. A disappointment all along. Leave us and the campaign like the scoundrel you play as.”

  No response from Cenvin. Is he crying? Durand, you might’ve been too harsh. Go somewhere else. Give him some room.

  “Very well,” Durand snaps. He turns to leave, but before that, he drops one last line: “You’re a great Dungeon Master. Thank you, Diem.”

  I feel honored.

  Durand turns to leave.

  Alone, Cenvin whispers, “I have other affairs. I’m in a band. I need to spend time with my girlfriend. I want to stay home and play video games. What’s the point of DnD if it’s this dark and depressing, ruled by a tyrannical oppressor?

  “I’m not immersed, Diem, like the way you want us to. I can’t tell if I want to roleplay or not if I want to connect with the NPCs, or if I want to keep on continuing the story. At this point, I think it would be the best for all of us if I stop coming to these sessions.”

  Are you sure?

  “The Sealine Swamp arc had been too harsh on me, Diem. Through the entire ordeal, I was being judged by an imaginary character. I murdered that character. I then sacrificed her body and threatened several little boys to an eldritch Otherworldly monster. Not to mention the physical toll every day, shambling through the swamp. Diem, I’m tired. Convincing myself to come to the DnD session is like waking myself up to go to school.”

  If so, then who I am to stop you? Leave! LEAVE, DAMMIT! You’re the player who ruins everything! You’re the villain of the party! The story will be so, oh so much better without your presence! You! Are! Useless!

  “I’ll quit,” Cenvin tearfully mutters. “But may I be redeemed before I go out?”

  Well… that can be arranged.

  He lowers his head and brings the Tuner to his temple.

  “Thank you, Diem.”

  As midnight crawls closer, many humans remain sleepless. Two such persons are Durand and Cedric, standing on a large boulder as they overlook the worn caravan like gods.

  “Every trip, I’d like to believe that it would be my last,” Cedric initiates casual conversation. “It helps bring the best out in me.”

  “The constant fear of dying with regrets does work like magic,” agrees Durand.

  “I remember my first time as caravan director. It was a simple to-and-fro from Italica City to a small settlement in the East coast called Romeo. I was so hyperactive and paranoid for no clear reason,” he shakes his head. “Afterwards, I learned that Romeo had a dark secret… something too unpleasant to say in this pleasant atmosphere we have going on.”

  He reaches to feel the wind brush between his fingers.

  Durand suggests, “You can tell the tale later on.”

  “Indeed. From then on, I knew to trust my instincts. And do you know what my instincts are telling me now?”

  They look at each other, eye contact unbreakable.

  “What?”

  “Assert’s death was a murder by Cenvin. Everything that had previously happened since we began our journey led to his actions at the meeting tonight. Cenvin is a tragic character.”

  “It’s all about Cenvin?”

  He looks away towards the party’s tent.

  “The world seems to revolve around him.”

  “Ah. He must be the protagonist of this part of the plot.”

  Cedric glances at him inquisitively.

  “Sorry, broke the 4th wall again.”

  “That seems to be a passionate quirk of yours, Durand! Do you have any other interests?”

  Durand sits on the boulder's edge, looking into the horizon, where the swamp meets the spectral sky. His legs dangle freely as he sighs nonchalantly.

  “I do not have any hobbies, passions, or interests.”

  Cedric pats him reassuringly on the shoulder, “That’s okay. You don’t need to be honest for roleplay. Maybe you haven’t fleshed out your character yet.”

  Looking up at the dim whirling patterns of the spectrals in the sky, Durand mutters thoughtfully…

  “I just can’t make the perfect backstory…”

  Cedric had already hopped off the boulder.

  On the caravan’s opposite side, Lenny crawls into a small crevice amongst the rocks to find a glowing kitty: Nyri.

  Sinner has ordered me to advise you to build a boat to reach Seashine.

  “Is it the best course of action?” Lenny inquires.

  Quiet. Diem has shown he freely controls characters to act out of their personalization. The Sinner we know will not railroad you.

  He tones his voice down to a whisper, “How do we know if he’s controlling anyone?”

  The character(or NPC) will break the fourth wall.

  “Which is what you are doing right now, Nyri. Are you being possessed by Diem?”

  He has permitted me to enlighten you of this fact. I am acting out of my own free will.

  “Is there anything you wanted to tell me?”

  I know you miss the old, playful Nyri. She is gone. The Nyri I am now is an immortal omnipresent demigod capable of miracles while also acting as a deus ex machina if needed. It’s all under the grace of Diem, his passion for storytelling, and his goal of giving his players the best experience possible.

  “You read my mind. Thank you, Nyri, have a good night.”

  Lenny turns but freezes as Nyri telepathically projects another message.

  You’re inevitably going to have to Wild Shape.

  The next day, the caravan travels deeper into the mountains. Durand and Cenvin leave the caravan halfway into the afternoon to forage for any sort of food, being the hungry goobers they are. Lenny is left in charge of protecting the caravan.

  He crawls alongside Cedric’s wagon, occasionally making casual chatter with him. He squints at the distant mountains– he saw something move– and climbs onto Cedric’s shoulders to get a better look.

  “What do you see?” Cedric asks.

  Lenny looks confused, but he gathers his wits.

  “Little spiky gremlins, leaping down the mountainside and straight to us.”