A cool breeze weaves through the people's sweaty hair, rewarding them with chilling refreshments. The few visible clouds that flew under the spectral sky floated placidly as if dreaming sweet dreams. A child would readily identify the many shapes these clouds take: an elephant, a viper, a doll, or even a rapier. Now and then, someone will raise their heads to gawk at the sapphire, untainted sky of Seashine. The party is occluded from this privilege, of course. Colonies of seagulls are a rare sight, even near the city. Unfortunately, they fly too high. Given ten minutes, spectrals would pick off all of them one after one.
The boats trail alongside the coast. Cruising around mountains and jagged rocks haphazardly hidden in the waters, no one has time to admire the beauty when they're occupied in navigating this labyrinth of deadly everything. Durand and Lenny lie in the small orlop deck, gravely injured and unconscious, with no one tending to them. Grebs and Kryler are dead, and Cedric is too busy to direct the two boats simultaneously.
Speaking of whom, he and Cenvin remain on the stern, gazing at the bubbly seawater, ardently scanning for the sahuagins' silhouettes. They had been on the pursuit for twenty minutes by now. Curiously, the sahuagin haven't initiated their attack yet, despite effortlessly catching up to the boats.
“It’s a good weather, at least,” Cedric comments.
“Aye, indeed, or I ‘guess so.”
They share a smile. Neither are sailors, yet they’ve adopted a stereotypical seafaring accent. Despite their cheerful front, both know this is the calm before the raging storm.
“You should take a gander at those clouds, the sky, the snowy mountains, and everything beautiful,” Cedric says smoothly. “You never know when you will never see it again.”
“As a Gifted, we can’t appreciate the scenery when all the heavens are dark.”
“Apologies, I misremembered. How do your people keep their sanity under such conditions?”
Cenvin sighs.
“We don’t. We are insane as humans can be.”
“Well, a life lesson I’ve kept in mind is that everyone is a bit nutty if you know what I mean. Could it be that you Gifteds are naturally in tune with your psyche, thus granting you vision to such a maddening world?”
Cenvin tilts his head thoughtfully and affirms: “It is certainly possible with Worldview. You may be onto something here, Cedric.”
The underwater shapes return. However, they remain as pacifist as the last score of minutes, as to listen in on the conversation. The two humans pay them no heed for now.
“But how do you keep going?” Cedric inquires.
He avoids eye contact and fidgets with the hilt of Shimmerim.
“Some people like this sort of stuff. But not me. I’m tired, Cedric. I’m tired of all of these useless, repetitive shenanigans. When we first started our session, Diem promised that the adventure would be dark, gruesome, and terrifying. I don’t know what my expectations are, but the campaign didn’t fulfill them.”
Cedric seems visibly confused at all this “campaign” talk. “Who’s Diem?”
Ignoring him, Cenvin continues to ramble.
“Lately I have a lot on my plate, alright? Sacrificing hours of my time wasting away in Dungeons and Dragons is not what I can balance right now. Every dice roll is predictable, every action is exhausting, and every decision is overtaxing. A few seconds ago, do you know what Diem wanted me to say? I was instructed to either roleplay or make a meta-joke! Cedric, do you understand? Or are you just another puppet, being commanded around by our favorite puppeteer, the Dungeon Master?”
“What are you saying?” Cedric, confused, asks. “Are you alright? You need to focus on the fight at hand, or else we’re all going to die!”
“It doesn’t matter what I do, does it!? If I choose not to fight, plot armor will find a way to get us to safety anyway, so why should I risk my life?”
Shivers run down his spine as he feels the Higher Power’s gaze on his back. He twirls around to demand to the heavens.
“Diem! I give up! Strike me down! Kill off my character!”
You’d rather go down in a blaze of glory, right?
“What?”
Horrified, Cedric rips out a bloodcurdling cry and panicky shambles away.
“They’re attacking!”
The sea boils and froths as an army of shark-riding sahuagin emerge from the depths, thirsting for another round against the party. Cenvin grits his teeth and draws Shimmerim with a sharp ring!
“I’ll go all out, then!”
And I will not disappoint!
A sahuagin stands on the back of its shark, spear in hand, about to climb onboard. It pauses momentarily when Cenvin leaps from the deck, screaming like a madman.
It opens its mouth, “Rah–”
Shimmerim pierces through time and space to snuff out the sahuagin’s voice with a jab down its throat. The sahuagin nearby witnesses this and detours over. They bare their yellow fangs at the rogue. Suddenly, the human leaps into a portal. Simultaneously, two portals appear at the front and back of each sahuagin, and the rapier stabs through the portals, skewering and killing two with one attack. Blood splatters on his clothes and pours into the sea, where the cruel animals, as violent as their masters, catch the scent. The sea bellows with ferociousness as they hurl out of the water.
The sharks snap at Cenvin’s disappearing feet as he teleports back onto the boat. Other sahuagin fling their spears toward him with deadly accuracy. One nails him in the shoulder but he snaps it out without reaction, signs of hurt, or audible noises of pain. A creepy smile spawns on his face.
“I’ll finish you all, then finish myself!”
In a 100-ft sphere centered around him, a hundred portals randomly spawn into existence. The very fabric of air itself becomes Swiss cheese. Mostly black, the portals appear snowy white in contrast to the sky. Cenvin falls through portal after portal, stabbing and jabbing at any sahuagin he sees. Moreover, a few sahuagin decide to enter some of the portals, resulting in them being trapped in stasis in his pocket dimension.
He is speed incarnate. Using the pocket dimension’s lack of air resistance, he breaks the 200km/h terminal velocity and accelerates far beyond. The portals, originally appearing to be randomly placed, now exhibit his genius. They are spawned in a way that Cenvin can fall through any of them and always remain in this imaginary 100-ft sphere. The sahuagin inside this space are quickly slaughtered by the blurry rogue. The sea churns black with gore and intestines. Other sahuagin cautiously swim outside the sphere, inflicted with a striking fear of the human before them. They launch spears into the area, hoping one of them will hit their target.
Whistles by. Evades another. One lands. Only a scratch thanks to Uncanny Dodge. The rest embed themselves into the boats.
The sea roars with vicious victory. All around the two boats rises an enormous sahuagin battalion. Hundreds, if not thousands, encircle the boats. Their tongues click excitedly for the upcoming slaughterfest. Cenvin pops onto the deck beside Cedric.
“Cenvin! How do you stop this!?” Cedric’s sweaty hands clutch onto Cenvin’s cloak for dear life, who shakes him off emotionlessly.
“I have full mastery over my ability, by some godgiven miracle or pure adrenaline, Cedric.” His head rings with shellshock as if a jackhammer has struck him, “The Starmetal is working to halt the coma that will inevitably wash over me”
“What are you trying to say?” His pupils expand as he realizes Cenvin’s meaning. “You don’t mean–”
“This is the end, Cedric,” Cenvin confirms with a cheerful tone.
A spear smashes into the boards between them, still quivering with energy.
“Tell my party of my heroics.”
A wave of energy radiates from him, knocking Cedric back. He closes his eyes to concentrate purely on his ability. Underneath every sahuagin and shark opens a black portal. A thousand opens and closes within five seconds, sucking every enemy into the pocket dimension. After ten seconds, all that remains of the sahuagin are mini-whirlpools spinning in their place.
“Row! ROW!!!” Cedric scrambles and shrieks at the oarsmen.
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Cenvin collapses against the rails. His head is breaking under arcane depletion, under muddled swamps, and smoothies of guts and brains. Spectrals break away from the sky. They drop to his level. One holds out a bony, shriveled claw for him to take.
“No!”
Durand and Lenny rush to the stern and catch a comatose Cenvin. They carry him below deck and attempt every rejuvenation ability they wield. Goodberry! The berries’ effects are nullified when they can’t make him eat it. Cure Wounds! It does not cure conditions. They try to pour a potion of healing down his throat to no avail. Finally, as they haven’t unlocked Greater Restoration yet, they resort to Medicine checks, but they just can’t seem to roll high enough.
The boats sail on, leaving the site of the battle. The sea has calmed down to a devastated silence. The only evidence of fighting left are the coral-headed spears embedded in the stern. Eventually, the last mountain flies by and goodbye, and in the distance rests the Coastal Metropolis of Seashine.
Spectrals break away from the sky. They drop to his level. One holds out a bony, shriveled claw for him to take.
“I refuse,” Cenvin whispers. “To go with you feral reapers of Diem. I’ll exit my way!”
A portal opens beneath him and he falls through.
Nothing but the empty void of his pocket dimension. This reminds him of the morning in Italica City, where Durand activated a Darkness spell to speak with him…
But there is no sound here. No air, only time.
Stasis is created by wrapping a time bubble around the creature, slowing it down to almost a halt. It takes a thousand years for them to lift even a single finger as fast as they can. Cenvin, of course, is not affected, but in this case, he has chosen to be put into stasis. Why? Well, he has a lot on his mind. Cenvin, shall we chat?
“Yes, sure.”
May I ask why you want to end your time with us?
“I’m not a good roleplayer. I’m not a nice character. I’m an asshole, a selfish thief, and a greedy murderer.”
Isn’t that what character development is for? Your words echo Assert’s. Did you take her criticism to heart? Surely, you are still willing to play DnD with us if you are willing to change your character and personality? Please, Cenvin. We don’t want you to leave in such a grim fashion.
“I cannot immerse myself in this dark world you have created. Every time I interact with NPCs, I remind myself that they are figments of imagination. This leads to the mindset that nothing matters in this place, and that gives me the feeling of free rein, the capability to commit anything without fear of repercussions. But that pulls me out of the immersion, Diem. Imagine outsiders watching us play, how cringe will that be? Young adults playing house?
“I do not like Dungeons and Dragons. Combat is too slow for my taste. I do not like having to break out of my character to roll dice. I’m used to a computer calculating everything instantly, like in a video game. Tell me, Diem, how does your Otherworld compare to Baldur’s Gate?”
It doesn’t, and that’s the beauty of it! The process of creation is such an enjoyable experience. We are free to imagine a creative adventure with no criteria for coding or any other technical prowess. As long as we can still imagine, possibilities are truly limitless, and entertainment will be everlasting. Do you think that my concept of an Otherworld is original? Hell no! I’ve built this campaign using inspiration from many other pieces, from many other universes, and by many other creators! Think of different works of art as separate universes inside a multiverse of imagination and creativity. My universe is a small one, amidst a sea of other talented Dungeon Masters’ stories, and beyond that; the world’s tales. But we choose to stay in my universe because it is fun, and that’s why this universe, and many others exists. We do everything for fun. This is the structure of the creative world, Cenvin, and it’s all interconnected! The best part is, that players like you can freely hop between them!
“Why are you telling me this when you want me to stay?”
That’s because, in the short amount of time that the reader has taken to read your rambling, I have decided I no longer need to persuade you to remain active in my story. I will leave you to your device inside your pocket dimension for now. I have sealed it, so you can’t return to consciousness. To the battalion of sahuagin you had just put in stasis, eons have already passed from their perspective. If I release them now, they might be a bit… irate. From now on, your character will become an NPC while in reality, you consume other media. So, farewell, Cenvin!
“N-no, don’t leave me here!”
The thousand bubbles of time encasing the sahuagin drift near him. Upon closer inspection, he realizes that their physical bodies had weathered away from a millennium of being trapped. The bubbles burst all at once, and the dust of the sahuagin rises into individual spheres of sand, finally solidifying as will-o-wisps as their soul manifests within the sphere. They fly around him, telepathically communicating their wicked, long-suppressed thoughts to him.
“We have finally found you… in hell, with us!”
“We watched as our bodies deteriorated, faded away, crumbling!”
“One second for you here was ten years for us! How do you expect to repent?”
“Please– I don’t know! Leave me alone!”
A wisp, larger than the rest, flies to his ear. In a ghastly and haunting voice, it whispers to him.
“In the end, you’re just a weakling. A coward and scoundrel like the rest. A cheater who had to cheese his way through a boss,” the sahuagin baron says.
“That’s not true! I’m not like the others… I have character development!”
“And where was that ‘character development’ in your talk with the Higher Power? We. Heard. Everything. For decades, we were forced to listen to your voice. Please, forgive us, puny rogue, for unleashing our wrath onto you.”
“Damn you!”
He draws Shimmerim and stabs through the wisp. The rapier simply goes through the dust uselessly. The sahuagin bursts into hysterical laughter. One wisp zaps Shimmerim out of his hand, and the weapon falls into the void.
“T-take this!”
He unloads a crossbow bolt into the darkness. It strikes nothing and drops into eternity.
“I was supposed to be your final boss, but you chose to run away like a coward.”
“Shut up!”
The wisps cruelly zap him several agonizing times. Flailing his arms around uselessly in a futile attempt to bat away the evil wisps, he shouts noncoherent words like a cornered prey. He falls prone. Zaps, more zaps, and even more merciless zaps stream from the hateful souls. His body feels like giving up. His heart has stopped. His body is charred and burned. But why hasn’t he died yet?
“You cannot die in your pocket dimension. Even if you get eviscerated to nothing, you will still be conscious. But don’t worry. We’re making sure that we haven’t burned off all of your pain receptors yet, human.”
Do I have to endure this for eternity? He dimly thinks. Diem is the true villain all along. Why did the pain cease?
“That’s because we’re frying your brain,” a wisp sneers.
Ah. That explains a lot of things…
Roll your Medicine check, Lenny… A 21! That’s a shame. You don’t wake him.
Durand and Lenny kneel on the floor, miserably looking at Cenvin’s comatose body sprawled on the deck. They have just tried everything they can, and it seems that even high Medicine rolls are ineffective.
A click on the handrails. They turn to see Nyri, glimmering pure whiteness as ever, strolling over casually. She takes a morbid glance at Cenvin and morphs into a sad-looking slime.
Durand crawls over and picks her up, screaming emotionally, “Revive him! Heal him like you’ve done before! Nyri!”
That cannot be done.
He furiously slams her into the floor. Lenny simply watches as Nyri flashes red and moves back a safe distance.
“Aren’t you on our side? Help us!”
Lenny quietly places a claw on Durand’s boot.
“She’s not an ally. You’re not yourself, Durand. You’re being like Cenvin.”
Durand draws a shortsword and slashes at Lenny, knocking him away.
“Well, I want to be like Cenvin! Anything to bring him back!”
“Just give him time, and he’ll probably recover from the coma.”
“We have waited for half the day! We’ll arrive at Seashine City’s shores in thirty minutes! There’s no hope he’s coming back anymore!”
His legs give and he collapses like a crumbled piece of paper. Tears stream freely from his eyes. Nyri and Lenny both watch sympathetically, afraid to go near. He morosely holds out his handmade knife for them to see.
“I whetted this knife, throughout the campaign, to gift it to him on the eve of the final session. That day will never arrive. I no longer have a use for this knife.”
He tosses it overboard. As fast as lightning, Nyri splits and one-half snatches the knife from being lost forever. It returns to the boat and drops it carefully into Durand’s lap before reforming back into Nyri.
Such a good knife cannot be wasted. Find another purpose.
Durand fully breaks down and covers his face, shaking feebly. “Why didn’t he tell us?”
He did tell you, but you were just too optimistic to see it.
Right, Lenny thinks. A few chapters ago. We should have braced for it.
“If we had told him that Assert lived, would he have stayed in the campaign?”
Here comes the next stage of grief, Lenny dolefully observes.
Nyri returns to a kitty and snuggles with Durand. He absentmindedly pats her.
It would have accelerated the process instead, she transmits. Get over the fact that your friend is no longer sharing the same hobby as you. Feel free to feel blue for now, but I hope you can be ready to enjoy Diem’s next arc.
A little glowing heart levitates in front of him. It pops like a bubble.
“I’m sorry for hurting you guys… I need some alone time. Tell me when we land.”
He walks below deck and becomes eerily quiet. Lenny and Nyri share a dismal look and make themselves comfortable.
“So, how’s Sinner been?” Lenny cranks out a smile.
