B19.
This is part of the #Dungeon23 challenge in which you make one room to a dungeon every day for a year. In an effort to link my memories to the creation, I am also writing a personal journal entry with each room that may or may not be related.
You don’t have to read that part.
B19.
One can see flies coming through the cracks of the door. They’re responsible for the the maggots and flies from B18.
You can hear a sickening hum emanating from the room that upsets your stomach.
Inside this room is a giant fly covered by hundreds of other smaller flies. Its body pulses and undulates to the beat of its massive heart.
It will summon all the flies in this level to swarm you and break your body down so it may eat.
Schizophlex (a giant fly)
Cannot move. Too goddamn big.
The flies on it’s body gives it a kind of natural armor.
Its eyes reflect light in a hypnotic way that can fry your brain. This is passive on its part. Your torchlight is the problem. On your turn make a Will save. On a fail lose some Will.
Fly swarms attempt to suffocate you by crawling down your throat.
A keen eye may see a glimmer of gold on the wall behind Schizophlex, but its obscured by the swarm of flies that cover it.
Should you clear the room, you’ll find a large gold relief inset to the wall that measures 10 feet wide by 5 feet. Or whatever the fuck meters are.
The relief is one of a Kik’ina Kir war horse. A historian would know that Kik’ina Kir were renowned for their horses, and their love and respect for the animal. There is an old tall tale that when the Kik’ina Kir felt a particular enemy was beneath them, they’d only send their horses to take care of the problem.
Now how the hell do we get this very expensive piece of art out of here?
2/19/23
Today is my dad’s birthday. He passed away several years ago on Thanksgiving of cancer.
The last few years of his life we weren’t very close. We’d had many falling outs. There were several periods where we didn’t speak it all. It was always my choice - not his.
The last time we spoke before he died, we just hung out. We didn’t talk about all the shit we wanted to say to one another. We just had a cook out and talked about nothing special. It wasn’t like in the movies where the father and son finally say their piece and get some closure.
Closure was something I had to get on my own, by sorting through the memories and the memories of others of who my dad was. Who he was to his family and who he was to other people. Sometimes these concepts didn’t jive together, and that’s how I really came to understand just how complicated human beings are.
I don’t do much judging of people any more. I judged my dad for years and looking back I feel like I could have approached him with more empathy and sympathy. Because I miss him. Even though he drove me absolutely crazy, I miss him, and even with all the bullshit between us, I still wish I had more time with him.
So happy birthday, Dad. The kids are alright.
See you tomorrow.
-jae
SUPPORT OUT OF DEPTH
Hey if you enjoy the work we do here, whether it’s this blog post or the podcast, and you’d like to support us, I’d like to show you to our Patreon.
That support is huge and allows us to keep making cool shit for folks just like you.
Thanks