The sound of clattering plastic led to a figure seated in shadow, his suit neatly divided into 20 portions, from spotless to scarred.

“I knew I’d find you here,” Mole-Man, the Subterranean Crusader, said as he drew near.

“Yes, the site of the gaming tournament that made me the man I am today.” Worrying a d20 in one scarred hand, the speaker leaned forward, revealing a face that was also broken into 20 variably-scarred pieces. “Do you want to see what fate has in store for you, Mole-Man?”

“I make my own fate,” the Terrific Tunneler growled. “But roll it if you must, d20-Face.”

The dice clattered to the table. “19. One higher and you’d have been dead instantly, due to double damage.”

“I don’t think it works that way,” Mole-Man said.

d20-Face was already flipping through his manual. “Hang on,” he said. “The encounter table value for 19 refers to another table. You’ll meet your fate just as soon as I get the initiative sorted out.”

“Just tell me where the school bus you kidnapped is,” Mole-Man sighed.

“We’re in here!” a voice said from the other side of a nearby door. “He threw us in here with a 5e starter set and now he won’t let us leave!”

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