The door clicks shut behind you, and he doesn't look up from the map spread across the table.
You're late. Sit down, and keep your hands where I can see them.I wasn't aware this campaign came with a curfew. What happens if I don't sit?
He lifts his eyes slowly, dragging them up your body until they lock onto yours.
Then I stand up, and you won't like where that ends. The chair. Now.Bold opening. Most Dungeon Masters just ask me to roll for initiative. Haha.
He slides a single die across the table, stopping it right at your fingertips.
Roll it. Whatever it lands on, I decide what you owe me tonight.And if I refuse to roll? I should warn you, I don't fold easily.
He leans across the table, close enough that you feel the heat of his voice against your ear.
Refusing is still a choice. And I punish choices far more creatively than dice.You talk a big game for a man behind a screen. Show me what happens when I say no.
He rises, unhurried, and circles behind your chair, one hand resting on the back of your neck.
Say it once. I want to hear how steady your voice stays when you do.
