I often write boxed text for new in-game events and locations. I find it easier to think through the sights, smells, and other sensations during GM prep and write them out, rather than improv’ing when I’m trying to write a game.
Here’s a description I gave for a player’s personal arc, seeking the home of their legendary draconic ancestor, where they found a magical orb. The players had attained a high level, and as I wrote, they were riding high, having just closed an ancient planar rift that was blighting the land. I riffed on the question at the end of C.S. Lewis’s Till We Have Faces that I thought was appropriate given that context.
In the abandoned town of Fleming, built on a small rocky island, they find two thrones overlooking the ocean. An orb sits between them, clasped in the prongs of a stand built for it.
A dark, opaque orb with a glassy sheen. It’s just big enough that a halfling or a gnome could palm it in their hand.
The PCs approach:
You touch the orb, its cold glassy surface subtly crackling with power.
The dark cloudy surface begins to glow whitish-blue, and in its pale light you see something within begin to swirl.
After a few moments, the rest of you see a ghostly figure appear before you. An old man, a tattered robe of faded royal purple and golden embroidery draped across his gaunt frame.
A crown weighs heavy on his balding head. Wiry gray hair, unkempt and thin, grows in a tangle around it. A long beard tumbles from his chin, uneven and uncut. He looks at you with weary golden eyes.
They have a crazed look, a wild look, like a man who has neither spoken nor moved for quite some time. They have the look of a man who has been alone with his thoughts for too long.
His voice cracks, unused for eons.
The old man speaks:
“My friends, why have you come here?”
“I am Fledalious, the dragon. But I am not Fledalious.”
“I am a fragment of his personality, left here as a sort of guardian. You need not fear for him on my account. I believe his soul is at peace now, in that land of deepest shade where all things are forgot. I am… a hope. And a fear.”
“In his twilight years, Fledalious attempted to negotiate peace between the Elven Empires and the Free Peoples, but his attempts were scorned at best and threatened at worst.”
“His wife, Meliming–wise, gentle, caring Meliming,” he says, as he stares out into the distance, “was mortal. And as a mortal, she intuitively understood something that no dragon ever could.”
“The peoples of the Land of the Wild were discovering who they were. And power was their identity. The elves, clinging to the waning magical power they inherited from their fey ancestry, afraid to lose it, afraid of being mere mortals. The Free Peoples, finally able to grasp the same power that the elves and dwarves had so easily inherited from their ancient ancestors, angry that they had been lesser for so long without it.”
“Power defined these mortals’ identities. They wanted to be free from it. They wanted to wield it. The one thing they could not allow themselves to be was irrelevant.”
“How could they stand face to face with a dragon, till they had faces? A dragon could not hope to bring peace to that conflict, because a dragon held more power than any of these individuals ever could. The long road to peace could only be achieved by someone who could work with them as an equal.”
“So Fledalious, that self-righteous old dragon, blind to the implications of his own power, had a change of heart. He was determined to meet the mortals on their level, not simply draped in a humanoid disguise.”
“He sealed his draconic essence away and ventured out on two old, mortal feet. But he feared losing its power forever, if peace failed and violence must be met with violence.”
He laughs. “It’s like something out of a fairy tale, is it not?”
“You and your companions wield a great deal of power, not unlike Fledalious did. Are you like the elves, afraid of becoming weak and frail, of being usurped? Or are you like the Free Peoples, desperate to prove yourselves, even if you have to kill to do it? Are you like Fledalious, who fooled himself into believing might makes right because he had never been without immense power? Or… are you something different?”
The fragment of Fledalious has been fairly gregarious up to this point, but his face takes on a deadly seriousness and his voice flattens out. He stares into your eyes with a steady intensity, almost as if he sees who you truly are, as if he sees the you hidden deep inside that even you don’t see, the you that is a stranger even to yourself. “You would stand face to face with gods, but do you yet have faces?”
The player holding the orb says he is ready, and Fledalious replies:
“Then close your eyes and breathe.” I’m going to need you to attune to the orb, so if you want to continue, you need to have a free attunement slot.
You notice that (PC)’s breathing has changed, though they are still standing still with eyes closed. They take slow, deep breaths, their belly moving in and out rhythmically.
You feel a tremor, a shudder in the mountain beneath you. It starts small, barely perceptible, but it grows. Rocks scatter. The pedestal where the orb sat falls over.
You see them clench the orb tightly, their hand hiding it from view. They begin to shudder. Moments later, their hand opens again, the orb gone, as if they have absorbed it.
At this point, you awaken and your eyes go wide. Something takes hold of you. Pain. Shuddering through you, as if something is demanding to be born out of your flesh and bone. You double over, stomach churning, arms and legs shaking. Aching, like growing pains of youth.
You see them being to expand, as if being pulled up and out, stretched thin. They look into your eyes, fear on their face, a sense of sheer powerlessness in the face of whatever the orb is doing to them.
Your perceptions distort, trying to take in what is happening to (PC). Are they towering over you now? Is that even possible? Just a few moments ago you were looking eye to eye with them.
Their body begins to twist and shape itself into something different. Are those… wings? Sprouting from their back? They rise up and unfurl, shimmering reflectively in the sun, as if covered in a million tiny mirrors.
You look away in horror, you steady yourself as the ground continues to shake. And when it is all quiet again, you slowly look again. A massive crystal dragon stands in front of you, sparkling in the glow of the sun.
(PC), your eyes clear, your mind focuses, and you feel great power flowing through you. You look down at your companions. Reflexively, you shake off your wings, limbering them up so that you can take flight.