With a cough and a sputter, Storyteller stumbled his way out from the shadows - a dull gray mist fading from this features as he blinked slowly - his eyes adjusting to the change in light. His gaze focused on those who stood before him. He sighed and shook his head.
"I suppose I have some explaining to do...
I woke myself an hour past dawn, as always, in order to take a walk and clear my head. As my feet reached the cool floor however, it happened. I could hear it as I opened my door, and as I brushed my teeth. The distant, yet distinct sound of a die rolling. It followed me as the day stretched onward. The sounds. The dice..."
Storyteller's eyes were wide as his hands gripped each other tightly. "I thought it was nothing. Maybe I'd stayed up too late. But it didn't stop. I couldn't focus. I failed tests in my classes, couldn't sit for more then a few seconds at the keyboard... Always the roll of the dice. Taunting me with failure.
So I decided to do something about it.
Late one night, the roll of dice woke me from my sleep. It had come from the room above, or so I thought. I climbed the stairs to the fourth floor, but they seemed to go on forever. Ahead of me always, was that infernal rolling. The smell of Cheetos and Mountain Dew began to permeate the staircase - burning my nostrils and beckoning tears. Still, I carried onward.
I met a goat on the staircase after my third day of journeying. The goat was wise, and offered me a riddle. I ate the goat, and with my newfound strength continued onward.
Finally, I came upon a door to the roof. A door that should not have been. A door that defied all I knew of reality. Yet here it stood. I knocked. Once. Twice. It swung open beneath my touch.
Beyond, the rooftop stretched to infinity, with the stars of the heavens high above. The roll of dice echoed from the endless gaming tables. I was drawn through the crowds, the Sun Chips, and the geeky laughter. I came to my table. The table of my life.
And there I was - a small figurine, red hair and all. The gridmap was blank, just lines and squares. I looked up to the man who stood across the table from me - who held a single die in his hand. He was cloaked in black and smelled vaguely of Pert Plus shampoo and conditioner. I asked, my voice shaking, 'What is this place?' He replied simply, 'This is the Game.'
I told the cloaked man, 'I must return, for I must blog, and pass word of this place to the people of the internet. I must tell them the truth!' To which the man replied, 'Very well, but when you do, you must tell them of all that is here. You see, it is actually quite a nice place. We have waterslides, and booths for every food and drink imaginable. And the lines are actually quite short.'
As I gazed out over the stands of food and drink, I saw that the man spoke true. Suddenly, I realized that the wise goat had left me quite thirsty. That was when the craving hit me.
With no avail, I looked out in desperation over the thousands of drink booths, my throat aching for relief, my body begging for nothing more then the sweet release of Fruit Punch! Dismayed, I asked the man across the table from me, 'Sir, please tell me fast, where do I wait in line for Fruit Punch, for the goat has left me parched, and I am in need of respite.'
The man sighed, replying in a tone that was almost aching with sadness.
'There is no punchline.'
Amusingly enough, this story also can be adapted and used excellently if your character missed an RPG session to explain their absence. Now, back to work.
4 hours ago