a young warrior fulfils a dream,
one on one combat, and his foe
folds like wet parchment.
a wounded musician, has his back
even as the javelin impaled
in her arm (her spoils)
drips with life.
the clatter of a die.
a number announcing if she survives
is softly reported
[or how Oscar’s help was neither wanted nor needed, thank you very much]
This is part of a series of vignettes from my first Dungeons and Dragons campaign.
