Roll for Friendship

“I already left the house, I can’t bring you an extra d12, Matt.” I explained to my friend as I’m driving up I-75, 3.5 hours into my 6 hour trip to his house for our annual Dungeons and Dragons one-shot get together with him and my 3 other friends.

“Please bro! I’d go and just buy one from the local card shop, but I’m swamped trying to finish up work and putting the finishing touches on the story for tonight! I’ll give you $20 bucks flat out if you could just stop somewhere and pick me up one. Please.” Guess he’s moved onto the bargaining stage, I’ll spare him.

“Fine, I’ll see if there’s one close to an exit at some point in the next 120 miles. You seriously need to stop procrastinating though! I can’t believe you still haven’t finished the story for the game we’re playing TONIGHT.” I hang up before he can even respond, he knows I don’t mean it and I really don’t want to continue the conversation and distract him from getting his shit wrapped up.

“Okay, Google! Add a stop to the closest comic book store.” I guess comic book stores aren’t guaranteed to also have table top stuff but hopefully it works out. Looks like it’s telling me to get off at the next exit.

I stop where I’m instructed to by the omnipotent powers from above known as Google, but this really doesn’t seem like the right place? I’m supposed to be at address number 2954 and instead I’m standing in front of an alley. To the right is 2956 and to the left is 2952, with my superior monkey brain I can deduce that this is supposed to be 2954, but if I have to walk through this dark alley to get to the front door then I don’t know how this place is still in business.

“Welp, $20 is $20. Let’s see if there’s a door hiding in this alley.” I mumble to no one in particular.

And then I bought Matt his d12 and together we had a great night of pizza and D&D.

I wish that’s what happened.

Instead I’m laying on my side in some orchard surrounded by apple trees and I’m cosplaying as a homeless person with what feels like a sword and a ball. Seriously? I thought I’d get mugged or step on a needle and catch Hepatitis, but I did not even consider getting drugged, kidnapped, and dressed up like a medieval character.

Ok let’s calm down, I feel a lot more shit on me than just a sword and robes, so let’s take stock of what I’m working with.

Standing up the first thing I notice is that my hair is way longer than it’s supposed to be. It comes down to around my shoulders and…. it’s silver? What the fuck? I’m wearing some kind of dark black robe with some leather on both my shoulders and chest with some kind of decorative silver markings on it. The sword I felt digging into my hip while I was laying in the dirt is actually a rapier, and a nice one at that. The ball I felt is actually a very small pouch attached to my robe at the waist. Let’s see what else we got here, I have cape, wait is it a cape? It’s like a cape but it goes around one of my shoulders as well.

I also have a knapsack on my back under the cape and right under the sack is what feels like a small mount for something? A book maybe? I’m not entirely sure, but this is starting to seem suspiciously fam-

“Woah I’ve never seen something like you before! Are you some special guard the Princess sent down here for the celebration today?” Spinning around to face the voice of what sounds like a child that has just about made me shit my pants I see nothing but air. Looking down I see a small yellow horse that’s tall enough to be about thigh level with a red mane and a comically large hair bow.

I’m completely dumbfounded because looking around for a second I don’t really see what else could’ve just spoken to me besides the horse and I end up just staring at her. I think it’s a her?
After around 10 seconds of us just awkwardly staring at each other she decides to try again, “Um, hello? Are you here for the Celebration?” She tilts her head adorably.

“Wow, ok, that was actually you that spoke. I was really hoping it wasn’t you because it means I’ve completely lost my mind. Or I’m dead. I’m being rude. Let me answer your questions before I fully process what’s happening and have a panic attack. I’m an elf-”

That’s not right, I’m not an elf. Elfs are about as real as talking horses, I’m a human. I…. have pointy ears. That’s not what I’m supposed to have…

“Are you sure you’re an elf? I’ve never heard of an elf before. Where do elfs live? Do y’all have cutie marks? Oh, what about a name? My name’s Apple Bloom.”

The tiny horse seems to have a knack for interrupting my train of thought, but it might actually be what’s saving me. I’m almost hyperventilating and my chest hurts.

“That’s a lot of questions, I didn’t even answer all of the ones you asked me before. I’m not a guard. I don’t know who your princess is or what she’s celebrating. My particular flavor of elves, and it’s elves when referred to in plural by the way, are mostly from the Feywild. I’m not really sure what a cutie mark is, and my name is Ignis Ferrum.” Once again my mouth speaks something that my brain was not trying to say. That’s not my name. That’s the name of my…

Holy shit I’m my D&D character. I really regret my lazy naming scheme of just using latin. Fire Steel? Really?

Oh, so this is what passing out feels like.

“Mister Ignis!”