Fiction|Mashups

Dangerous Dice Floors the DM

A Murder Hobo Response to Monday Mash-Up #29

I replayed the night’s events in my head as I cleared away the detritus the group had left. At least one of the mini figures was missing an arm, there was a sticky substance on the cover of one of my books, and I was unsure how the dice had got wedged behind the corner of the bookcase.

I was so busy fixing the golden hair piece back onto another of my relatively expensive figures that I didn’t notice the D4 on the floor until my bare foot came in contact with it. I swore loudly, toppled over, and smacked my head on the table. ‘Great death by dice’ was my final thought as the world went black.

The sharp stabbing sensation in my ribs didn’t help my pounding headache. Thinking it was one of my kids, I shouted, “Okay, let me at least open my eyes before you start demanding my attention.”

“Ah, you are alive. I was worried for a moment that it hadn’t worked.”

My eyes shot open, and I sat bolt upright at the sound of the vaguely familiar voice. The sudden movement was a grave mistake as the world swam, and I retched, bringing up the remains of my coffee and the various multicoloured snacks I’d snaffled to reign in my frustrations during the game.

“Oh dear, that doesn’t look very pleasant,” said the voice.

I steadied myself and turned towards the voice. Before me stood a haggard old woman, bent nearly double and steadying herself on a gnarled wooden stick. I must be seeing things. Maybe I hit my head harder than I thought and was hallucinating or in a coma or something.

“I guess you are a little confused?” said the hag.

“A little, that’s an understatement,” I replied.

“Come on, let’s go to my makeshift hovel and I’ll try and bring you up to speed.”

She held out a warty hand. I had very little choice but to take it unless I wanted to stay sat next to a pile of multicoloured vomit or crawl to our destination. She waited for me to stop swaying with the effort of standing before leading me to a lean-to shelter in the woods. The shelter was very basic, but it afforded a beautiful view of the crystal blue lake that cut through the trees.

The hag helped me sit on a worn tree stump before tending the dying fire. Once she’d finished, she poured dark brown liquid from a kettle on the fire and handed it to me. I sniffed it, coffee with a hint of something nutty. I took an experimental sip and was pleasantly surprised.

I watched intently as the hag busied herself around the little campsite before she lifted the lid on the large pot that hung from a tripod over the fire and stirred the contents. The smell wafted towards me and made my stomach growl. The hag cackled. “Trust me; you wouldn’t like it.”

“Why? It smells awesome.”

“Don’t you remember? You described it so well in the session. What was it now, ‘let’s say the mimic isn’t partial to tongues and eyeballs.’ Yes, that sounds right.”

I sat open-mouthed in shock. “How do you know that?”

“You still haven’t worked it out, have you?”

“Worked out what? What is going on?” I said before screaming as something brushed up against my leg.

The hag cackled again before sitting on a tree stump and clicking her fingers. A small chest on legs waddled over to sit next to her. I stared in disbelief. None of this was possible. I had to be experiencing a coma-induced dream. Right? I mean, what else was going on? It’s not like I had been transported into my Dungeons and Dragons game or anything. That sort of thing just wasn’t possible, was it? No. But then, here I was, staring at a green hag stroking the lid of a tiny chest-shaped mimic. I decided to go with it. After all, what was left to lose?

“Okay. I give up. How the hell did I end up in the game I’ve been DMing for a bunch of Murder Hobos?”

“Well, it’s quite simple. They sent you here.”

“How the hell did they manage that? Some can barely remember their character names or what their characters can do.”

“Luck. The right words at the right time with the right character listening.”

“Great. So I’m stuck here. How do I get back?” I asked, taking a large sip of the coffee.

“Oh. You don’t.”

“Wait. What?”

“Well. I was the right person, and I decided to help them after you allowed them to destroy my house, ruin my source of food, and leave me in a state near death.”

I tried to get up from the tree stump. I needed to get away, but my legs wouldn’t work. The hag crackled manically. “Oh. I wasn’t making the same mistake twice. This time I poisoned the coffee first, and explanations second. You’ll make a fine addition to the pot.”

The mimic’s pointed teeth and dripping tongue were the last things I saw as the world went blank.

Let’s see how well I did:

Prompt 1: Character wakes up in another world — DM is sucked into DnD game world — 2 points

Constraints: A lake — Near the hag’s campsite — 1 point Golden hair piece — on the mini figure — 1 point Someone betrays your hero — technically betrayed twice by the players and the hag — 1 point Creative meal — tongue and eyeball stew — 1 point

Hardcore constraint: An assassination attempt: the DM is technically royalty or god, so technically, its assassination rather than plain old murder, and there is nothing to say the attempt can’t be successful — 2 points (if allowed)

Bonus point: Tallie section — 1 point

Total: 14 points

Do you want to know more about the Murder Hobos that tried to assassinate their DM?

Thanks for the tag JF Danskin. Here is their awesome response to the prompt:

Colleen Millsteed, fancy having a go? Here is the original prompt by Jonathon Sawyer:

Cathylouise is a juggler extraordinaire who amazingly manages to balance parenthood, health challenges, work, and home responsibilities with a healthy side of poetry and knitting and a growing obsession with Dungeons and Dragons. When she’s not hiding at the kitchen table, she is supporting her teenage daughter, dancing around the kitchen to pirate metal and walking two very enthusiastic dogs. Follow her aerial acrobatics on Twitter.