We’ve been sitting across the witch for about five minutes, while she stares at us stonily. I fight my urge to squirm under her penetrating gaze, nothing good will come of her knowing she unnerves me.
If there’s one thing I’m proud about right now, is the way Peeta holds my hand, openly, for everyone to see. Just knowing he’s not ashamed of me, or is trying to keep our relationship hidden from the district, is more rewarding than I ever could’ve imagine.
People usually treated me with a modicum of respect because of my hunts, but now that anyone, Seam or merchant, can go into the woods and try to hunt in their own, I’ve become just one more hunter, albeit with the most extensive experience of course.
“I don’t even remember learning to swim, I was so young when he taught me. I just remember diving, turning somersaults, and paddling around. The muddy bottom of the lake beneath my toes. The smell of blossoms and greenery. Floating on my back, as I am now, staring at the blue sky while the chatter of the woods was muted by the water.”
This bloodthirsty d12 (which only shows this result on one side out of 12) killed three characters in four rolls in one of @labicycles turns in Dead of Winter. Not all of them were here. One of the characters belonged to @erikdidriksen.
The opposite of dice shaming - because if I scold and mock them for failure, I ought to reward success, right?
This was what happened when I spent a luck point to throw a grappled vrock at a nalfeshnee. DM ruled that the damage die for a thrown vrock was a d12, plus a d4 for being large-sized.
The nalfeshnee was laughing at us as it flew over a chasm full of lava, well out of range for most of our party. The vrock went face-first into its open mouth. Nalfeshnee literally ate that much damage (as did my hapless involuntary missile), and was so offended that he slammed the vrock down into the lava, killing him.