As Frank Sellaphix could mournfully confirm, Figaro lacked interest in table-top games. He did far too much yelling and hadn't the attention span to bother with lengthy rules-readings that included way too much agriculture. But this wasn't babysitting and there were libations.  Figaro and his glass of something stood at the table, intent on all the little bits and bobs, almost entirely paying attention to Sasha and Anton's instructions.

Figaro rifled through the pages - character sheets - that someone had spread out on the large table. There were dozens. Everything from gunslinger to doctor, monk to bard.

"Oi, what's a bard?" He pulled out one of the sheets and held it up to their more muggly friends, the likes of Abby, Sasha, or Anton. The name at the top was Gimby Shimbles. "Is that like a rock star? There's a guitar on here. Oh, mad fer it - what's Vicious Mockery?"

"Hmm, no," Fauna muttered to herself, keeping one finger atop her figurine's head as if she were playing a game of Wizard's Chess. The figurine stomped in one spot in the cell, waving her fists about, dark hair swinging around her face. Her paladin was much angrier than Sasha's.

"I need to lower the strength stat. I think."

Fauna erased the numbers next to strength and added a few more points to intelligence. The figurine sagged in place, keeping one finger in the air as if to say, well actually!

Fauna's next attempt was to make all her stats nice and balanced and... incredibly boring. The figurine spun in her cell so evenly and with such a neutral expression that when Fauna moved her hand away, it stopped and blinked at her with dead, soulless eyes.

"Oh no," Fauna shook her head. She scribbled and erased a few more stats on her card. "Hold on!"

What had Fig put down? Truly desperate, Fauna tilted her chin up and sneaked a peek at Fig's character card next to her.

"Vicious Mockery means you have to sing a snarky duet with Virgil," Abby decided, happily crafting her character sheet with lots of necessary extras like 'unicorn familiar' and 'flower crown of flippancy' and 'forever full wine flask'.

Abby was a druid. A flower child. With 18 Charisma, a good amount of wisdom, and decent dexterity. How else was she to ride a unicorn familiar with her hair flowing in the wind?

Her druid woke up in her cell, rubbed at her forehead like it was just another day, and yawned.

Across the table, Fauna was anxiously watching her paladin wake up for the fourth time in her cell. The paladin rose, standing tall. She tossed her hair back. She puffed up her chest, and strode right into the cell bars.

"Oh for Merlin's sake," Fauna sighed.[1]

1.	Someone is welcome to help her out, or it's safe to assume that Fauna ups the intelligence stat again

"Here, dah-ling," Tessa said, depositing a very large goblet of something that probably included red wine in front of Gris.

She lowered herself to sit in the chair next to her friend, doing her best to balance her own very large goblet as she did so. Taking a sip, she surveyed the table.

The small figurine that she'd claimed a moment earlier waved back at her frantically to get her attention.  It stood a few microns taller than most of the others, with dark green skin, pointed ears, a vaguely feminine shape, and braided black hair. Instead of armor, it appeared to be wearing a black wetsuit with neon pink accents, neon pink dive fins, and a matching neon pink snorkel mask that was pushed all the way up on its forehead.

"Oh, are we starting?" Tessa asked brightly over the top of her glass. 

She pinched the tip of the snorkel to pick up her character -- a half-Orc, half-Dark Elf marine biologist -- and deposited her in the cell with the others. The little figurine immediately swayed in place, pressing a hand dramatically to its forehead as it stumbled about, nearly tripping over its fins.

Micha glanced down at his phone but, again, gave up trying to follow any of the conversation.  There were too many at once and the phone was transcribing little snippets of each - which was all very confusing.  After the phone started repeating something about vicious monkies Micha gave up and turned back to his own character. 

His pointy-eared Vulcan was casting curious glances towards the female Paladin that was acting ... sporadically at best.  His dusty blue Chief Science Officer uniform (more Next Generation style than the original Star Trek) sported a very generic combadge, despite Micha's desperate attempt to convince Sasha that CBS would have to discover the wizarding world before coming after him for copyright infringement.  Sakkir, the Vulcan, had withdrawn his very tiny scanner from his pocket and was waving it over Fauna's Paladin when Micha's mobile rumbled on the table top. 

Looks like Fauns might need help the text from his brother read. 

Micha glanced over at Anton, caught the nod towards Fauna next to him and the quick wink.  Quickly, Micha set the phone closer to her so the phone's translator app picked up mostly her fussing.  She was leaning over to look at the page of the fuzzy-haired guy sitting on the other side of her. 

As Micha's Science Officer desperately scanned the Paladin who was walking into the bars, Micha shook his head and tapped on the edge of the paper to get her attention. 

Are you going to be more Healer or Tanker? he scribbled on a pad of paper, shifting his phone closer to her.  If you're going to fight mostly, priorities are Strength, Constitution, Charisma, Intelligence.  If healing and magic, Charisma, Intelligence, Strength and Constitution.

"Oh, mad fer it - what's Vicious Mockery? ... Vicious Mockery means you have to sing a snarky duet with Virgil."

"Oh, I'd definitely pay good gold to see that!" Anton chimed in, before pantomining deducting a handsome chunk of change from his character sheet's tally.  An action which he couldn't actually do since, quite rudely, their gamemaster had insisted their characters had had all of their gold taken from them before getting cast into the cells.  Their weapons had, likewise, been confiscated but they'd been able to retain non-weapon personal items. 

Still, he'd pretended and that was that.  He pointed his pen between Virgil and Figaro to make sure everyone knew it was happening.  Then, for good measure, he pointed towards Sasha - if it didn't happen voluntarily, Sasha had to work it into the game.  He had to. 

"Bards are wicked cool, mate.  They make up stories, cast spells, know everything and can be really good at lying or deceiving people." 

Anton, for years, had been drawn to the Rogue and related classes but after his brother had successfully convinced Sasha to create a character from sci fi genres, Anton's mind had gone racing.  Sure, there had been other important reasons for Sasha and Micha's selection.  Sasha had done his best to outfit the future-esque science fiction character with magic-based scientific advancements that would help Micha integrate fully into the game, despite his hearing impairment.  The Star Trekky computer and communication devices were more intricately connected with Micha's character sheet, increasing the character's communication options. 

Still, that precedent left Anton with so much potential.  His tall, copper-haired elven dragon rider was slumped, moodily, in a corner.  None of the character's various familiars had joined them in the cells - presumably, they'd join slightly later in the campaign.  His black and blue-tipped dragon was just off the side of the map with Abby's unicorn familiar, rolling on his back like a spastic cocker spaniel. 

After firing off a quick text to his brother, he turned back to Figaro.  "If you go with bard, Charisma and Dexterity are your main stays, Fig."

"Anyone else need help or advice?"

Figaro was bent over the table, penciling over, erasing, and otherwise abusing the character sheet to get Gimby Shimbles all set up. He followed Anton's advise about primary stats and made some choices on gear and spells, going mostly on which ones had the best names.

"I am..." he muttered as he worked, becoming quite pleased with himself, "... a very good ... deceiver ... and I ... know .... all...."

A child had appeared and was tapping the table to get Fauna's attention. It took him a moment to realize the kid was showing her a message on his mobile. Figaro had to squint a little to read it. (The tiny print of the Daily Prophet had clued him in that he might need glasses.) Where a child came from, Figaro couldn't divine. They had not been joined by a proper adult and he didn't look like a Sasha sibling, so Figaro had to wonder how big Sasha's house was that it sprouted preteens.

"Yeah, what's a hobbit?" he replied to Anton, straightening up and stretching tall with a satisfied groan. "I'm a hobbit."

Fauna had met Micha very briefly, and mostly from afar, at the aquarium with Anton and Moira.[1] She smiled warmly at the kid, faintly embarrassed by her character-sheet-ineptitude, but glad for the help from someone who was about to be family in a few months. Even Micha's - elf or Vulcan? - character joined the effort to inspect her poor attempt at a paladin.

Fauna glanced at the other characters springing to life in the cell - oh, decisions! Abby's flower girl stretched charismatically. Anton's elven dragon rider looked lost without his dragon. Fig's hobbit Gimby Shimbles (where'd he come up with that name!) knew all (so he must have high intelligence, along with Anton's suggested Charisma and Dexterity). Tessa's sea-inspired character looked simply badass (no surprise). It did seem, so far, like most of her friends were picking pointy-eared intelligent sorts.  She'd happily balance them out with rounded human ears.

"I want to be a super buff tank, but I don't want to walk into the cell bars," Fauna said sheepishly, speaking clearly into the phone near Micha. She glanced at his note, and started placing the most points into strength and constitution, as suggested, with charisma and intelligence next, showing him the sheet so he could point out anything she was missing.

"Hobbits come from Devonshire, you know," Fauna told Fig, smiling and scrunching her nose a little at Sasha. She hadn't forgotten Sasha's text![2]

1.

Fish are friends

2.

On November 24th, while discussing where to play 'capture the flag/hat' Fauna suggested the woods around her mum's place, and this is the result: Sasha: I'd would rather not have to find a way to explain to Anton why we've chosen to go to BFE the Shire to play Capture the Hat. Fauna: Excuse you. Fauna: Not all of us have mansions and acres of forest like Gandalf! Fauna: I mean like Legolas! Fauna: I mean like the elves! (w pointy ears) Fauna: Comeon! Fauna: *come on! Fauna is typing... Fauna is typing Fauna,: Not all of us live at RIVENDELL, Sasha! Sasha: I'm sorry!  My phone autofilled Devonshire - and I know not everyone- (the exchange continues)

"Yeah, what's a hobbit?  I'm a hobbit."
"Hobbits come from Devonshire, you know."

Sasha chuckled and shook his head and glanced at Fauna while opening a small tacklebox filled with an assortment of NPC figurines and associated dice.  He opened his mouth to speak but Anton cut in before him. 

"Be careful what you ask, Fig.  You might get stuck with an answer that has a combined run time of nine and a half hours."

"My dear Gimby," Sasha offered with a broad grin and a laugh.  "Hobbits really are amazing creatures.  You can learn all there is to know about their ways in a month, and yet after a hundred years they can still surprise you.  But, they're not from Devonshire.  More New Zealand.  I visited their homes - Moira has pictures." 

"Hobbits love carrots.  And have harry feet." Micha's phone spoke aloud in slightly-broken digital speech. 

"Alright, you lovely adventurers are waking up in the cell.  You can hear muttering voices and the clanking of keys from neighboring cells."  The two guard figurines Sasha set on the outside of the cell began stalking down the line.  They threw open the doors to neighboring cells and ushered the occupants out, shoving pick axes into their hands. 

        "Off t' work, yer lazy lot,"  Sasha dropped his voice, impersonating a much older individual who had had far too many cigarettes and drinks in his days.  "No goods, no food.  Ya know tha routine.  And ye mangy lot," the figurine stopped in front of their crowded cell and twirled a set of keys on a tiny finger.  "Yer new and don't know the routine.  Rule's simple.  Ye dig.  Ye find gems.  Ye get a meal.  Try t' steal, someone dies.  Maybe you, maybe someone else.  Got it?  Gonna behave?  Or ye need a few hungry or thirsty days to figure it all out?"

"What are you going to do?"  Sasha asked, nodding towards the group. 

"What are you going to do?"  Sasha asked, nodding towards the group.

If Micha was to be believed, Figaro surmised hobbits were something like rabbits, but the little figurine looked like a regular person, if not more short and shaggy than the others. Then, Figaro was taken completely by surprise by Sasha's sudden and totally committed dedication to the pantomime.

"What? Like, throw a chair?" Figaro asked, still not quite on board.

“Do you have a chair?”  Sasha asked, gesturing to the tiny room and the guard who was standing outside the cell, impatiently tapping a toe.  “Would you like a chair?”  Sasha cast a quick glance over the crew.  Interestingly enough, their group was a little light on the spontaneous casters. 

But, hoping a little active trial and error would help Fig (and others) find their adventuring feet, Sasha used his vast DMing powers and set a small, prop chair into the cell.

“Chair.  What are you going to do?”  Sasha grinned at Fig.

"Sit in it," Abby blurted, and her druid fluffed her hair, strolled over and sat.

Abby grinned, prepared to ask her druid to stand if Gimby had something he wanted to do. But look at that! Sasha's character could brood and hers could steal seats.

Micha tapped a pen against his character sheet and grinned at the antics of the little figurines.  Finally, he pointed at one of the skills on the character sheet and rolled his dice.  Sakkir strolled over to where the druid sat in the chair and waved his scanner over the chair. 

“I’m performing a local knowledge check on this primitive relaxation device.”  A monotone, computerized voice projected from the scanner.  “It appears to be no ordinary chair but that is the extent of the knowledge I can extract from the cushioned seat.”

“Is it a fish?” Tessa asked brightly, perking up. “I’m supposed to know about fish!”

On the table, her marine biologist also seemed to straighten. But she looked around, confused, as if unsure how to take initiative.

“Whaz’it gonna be, ye worthless mongrels?” Sasha growled for the guard as the little figurine rapped the keys against the prison bars, impatiently.  “If yer gonna work for yer bread, come up front.  If not, back in the corner.  Ten seconds before I leave ye all to rot for a week” 

Figaro crossed his arms over his chest and the little Gimby Shimbles figure mirrored his posture. "I could eat."

Gimby ambled across the cell to be first in line.

Fauna glanced up from her character sheet.

"Wait, why are we here? How did we get here last night from the tavern?"

Her paladin shrugged her shoulders and lifted her arms in a gesture of confusion that Fauna suspected would become routine.

"Er, sir?" Fauna changed her voice slightly, directing her question to Sasha as guard.

"Pray tell-" she couldn't help but smile - "Why are we in jail?"

Her character followed Gimby and stood in line, but looked at the guard expectantly.

Meanwhile, still seated, Abby’s druid scooted her chair to the back of the line.

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Writers in this post: Mai, Sparky, Elle, Niobe