u/CheetahCrafty102

I am running a solo ODND campaign right now and I am 4 ingame days into her story. Tonight I just played a pivotal part of the campaign (in the wilderness, ran out of water, stumbled upon a castle and miraculously won a joust rewarding me with loads of rations, a horse named Bride, and entry into the castle!) and I am on page 29 of my notebook! I have always loved writing but the immersion of solo roleplaying has me writing more than I ever gave before! I really do love my main character and I really like a few of the other characters she has run into so far. Once you get into the rhythm of solo roleplaying, the time just flies. I honestly don't know how long I was playing today, I ended my session maybe 15 minutes ago at 11:45pm and I think I started around... 4pm 😅. Getting scene appropriate music, getting into the headspace of my character and imagining very vividly the events of the story has been more entertaining than really any video game has been for me in quite awhile! Loving solo play!

(apologies for scattered writing, im still in the middle of anxiety attack im sorry)

I (25TF) have been with my high school sweetheart (24F) since we were 15. Right now she is out with family for her father's 60th birthday in Italy, leaving me alone for 2 weeks. I just woke up so anxious today for no reason. She is usually keeping everything clean and orderly in the apartment, to the point where I have to abide by very high standards of cleanliness or she can get mad. I know why though, her parents used to be alcoholics and very chaotic so she grew up feeling like she had no control. She's not just being a hardass for no reason, I understand why. Anyways, I feel crazy. I know this post is going to be incoherent because my mind is like going everywhere at omce and my head hurts. Today is the first day I wake up without her, where she is in Italy and I'm in bed alone and I feel judged??? Idk why but like I feel like she'd be mad at how messy my desk is (its "messy" but everything that is on there I'm going to be using today so I didn't put it away because I need them there now) and the clean towels aren't put away because I did laundry late and fell asleep. I just know the towel thing especially would get her so angry idk I feel terrible. But I am an adult I should really take care of things before I rest for the day. Does any of this make sense? I feel insane

Season 1 for me is definitely Two-Face. His whole arc and the sad ending for him really made him the highlight of the show for me at the time.

Season 2 for me, and the whole show at this point, is the Rocketeer. I love her episode and the ending honestly made me a bit emotional, making me audibly 'aw'. Seeing them fight together was almost like seeing Batman and Iron Man lol. She's my favorite by far, love everything about her. Kind of want more Rocketeer but also its fitting if she sort of fades into obscurity. Favorite episode

Why do I have such a hard time saying I'm a woman? This isn't like a questioning thing either. I hate being called he/him, sir, have been on estrogen for a little over a year, pass if I put in the effort, yet I have such a hard time calling myself a woman. At work, the only place that still sees me as my deadname and as a man, I introduced myself to a new hire. He went to his manager and asked about the girl in the lunch room (referring to me which tbh was very euphoric). The manager then asked me 'alright so are you a man or a woman? New guy keeps calling you a girl, what do I tell him?' and for some reason I couldn't say I'm a woman, I felt like no one would believe me. So I said I'm transitioning, which yes I know thats still me saying I'm a trans woman but I cannot physically say the words 'I am a woman'

As a trans woman, I'm just curious what it means as I have never met someone who has identified as such. What does being Demi mean to you, what gives you euphoria and dysphoria, what pronouns do you use and are popular with Demis? Thank you in advance amd I am eager to learn :3

I desperately need to get rid off what I have, it feels so wrong. I have wanted to have a vagina since I was about 14 when I first started watching sexual content amd figuring out stuff about my sexuality. I just have no idea how the process even happens. For one, I'm in the US. I am not a minor, I am going to be 25 soon. I have never had surgery so the process of getting an """optional""" surgery to me is foreign. Any help would be GREATLY appreciated and if also possible, how much can I expect to pay?

For some reason, I feel this strange feeling about my pretransition self. Its been just over a year since I cracked and about a year on hrt. Each month that goes by makes me feel more disconnected to the old self. He genuinely feels like a different person. Yet why do I have such a strong urge to like, have closure? Why do I feel a strange guilt, like I abandoned him? Does anyone else feel anything like this? I don't miss being that guy in any capacity, I just feel weirdly guilty for leaving him behind while I get to be happy. Its such an odd identity thing. Any help or just validation would be much appreciated, I feel crazy for having these feelings and I'm honestly quite scared to vocalize these thoughts for risk of alienation.

2 DSD (Days since Discovery)
Silyfer sits and drinks from her flask and eats her first rations before her rest. Gazing out into the night, she sees about a dozen of these massive majestic creatures. Trees walking using roots as legs, Silyfer looks out, watching the Ents taking long strides some forty yards away. Their gargantuan bark legs slowly carrying their huge bodies one large step at a time, their feet stomping and shaking the earth beneath them with ease. A few of the tree giants make note of Silyfer, looking over her direction yet seeming unbothered by their Elf observer. Silyfer smiles at them and waves. She used to hear stories of Ents when she was a small child being read fairy tales before it was time for bed. She never believed she would see one let alone a whole pack trekking along the very path she was about to continue on toward! Silyfer lays down on her back in the grass. She slowly closes her eyes, feeling the rhythmic stomps and vibrations from the giant’s steps lulling her to sleep coupled with their deep long breaths. Silyfer’s mind has never been more at ease. This place is beautiful.
Silyfer eventually gets back to her feet, feeling rejuvenated from her much needed slumber. The sky is still cloudy and white like before. She looks around her, picks a direction as one is just as good as any other direction when you are lost, and resumes her journey. Although she yearns to bask in the lovely atmosphere of these meadows, she only has another day’s worth of water, so unfortunately, she must carry on. She walks for several more hours, over small hills and lots and lots of open fields.
Silyfer continues on and on, until she hears some noise coming from her left. She stops and focuses. This strange noise also comes from her right… In fact if she really pays attention… The noise is behind her and in front of her as well. Silyfer’s been travelling at night to avoid any danger, who or what could this possibly be? The noise gets louder and clearer. It appears to not be some random noise either. It has a pattern, a rhythm. Intentional movements are making their way to her position: marching. Armor clinking and steel meeting the ground, crushing any life beneath it. Tall men finally come into her view, clad head to toe in platemail adorned with gold accents and crosses on their heater shields. Twenty of them, five in each cardinal direction, surround her. They take position, weapons drawn, and dug into the ground ready for battle.
Silyfer cries out in confusion, “What is the meaning of this? What did I do?”
The men stare back, completely silently. Not even their breaths are audible, they stand like statues judging Silyfer in the dark night. ‘Are these men,’ Silyfer thinks to herself, failing to hide her trembling panic, ‘are they going to kill me?’
The silver men still stand completely quiet. Silyfer can hear her heart pounding into her throat as she struggles to breathe. Worse yet, she hears another set of feet making their way to her location. Another man, this one standing a whole head shorter than the steel sentinels staring at her. This man is in pure golden chainmail with no helm and a crimson amulet around his neck.
“Woodland creature creeping through twilight hours,” the golden man says, “what business do you have in our land amongst our tower?’
Silyfer looks at the man with a bit of a blank expression. “I’m… Sorry? Your land? Forgive me, I don’t mean to question your rule, I am merely confused. You see I do not hail from this land.”
The golden man furrows his brow and crosses his arms.
“You speak with Art Proove, Cleric of the God of men, and who is it that I am speaking to then?”
Silyfer gulps, “Silyfer, lone Elf adventurer, I was unaware of the borders of this land and mean you no disrespect. All I ask is to leave unharmed. I have no ill intentions, for how is one to intend onto which they don’t yet know?”
A brief silence looms over both parties. Silyfer is trying as hard as she can to control her breathing so as to not appear scared. She keeps both of her hands visible to Art and to never break eye contact.
Art obnoxiously clears his throat and begins to speak again.
“Silyfer, I, in my heart and from what God tells me, believe in what it is you say,” Art raises his right hand with an open palm, “and will order these servants of the Lord to sheathe their swords and let you on your way.”
In unison, the war ready men stand up straight, pause, and then sheathe their blades. Art continues.
“Lady Elf I do have to inform you that there is something due.”
Silyfer’s ears perk up. ‘He’s going to surround me with several men, interrogate me in the dead of night, and have the audacity to suggest I owe him something?’
“A tithe,” Art says, “a small fee for God and His lands you walk through. It is the least that you could do.”
Silyfer cannot believe what she is hearing. A random man believes he has the right to overpower a lone woman in the woods, shake her down for money, and call it holy? Begrudgingly and feeling the heat of anger in her face, she drops her rucksack to the ground. She knows that this unfortunately isn’t exactly a negotiation. She begins grabbing some silver and gold coins from the back, she also feels the mysterious potion she picked up from the castle…
Silyfer leaves the sack behind her and approaches Art with coins in hand. Art smiles as she fills his hands with the metal coins.
“God thanks you for your service, Elf. May one day you find Him within yourself.”
Art makes various fast hand gestures to his men and they begin to march their way away from Silyfer. With each step further from her they take, more and more rage builds up inside of her.
Silyfer continues her journey throughout the plains, anxious that Art’s men might circle back around. What other lands do they claim as theirs? Am I still trespassing? How can one claim nature as theirs? Putting her frustrations aside Silyfer tries to immerse herself again in the beauty of the land and prays she’s uninterrupted this time.
Alas, this immersive bliss is catastrophically short lived for dear Silyfer. She begins noticing something off-putting about the once marvelous meadows she previously walked on. The grass is becoming more and more dehydrated, yellowish, dry and frail. Her steps become crunchy and loud. It appears all the life of the land is withering away before her very eyes. She began noticing more and more dirt and mud, patches between greenery and vegetation becoming bigger and more frequent. Eventually she found herself in a world of brown. Not a single plant or blade of grass in sight and in every direction. The land was bereft of life, of detail. There was an unsettling quiet, no birds chirping, no wind blowing her hair into her face, only the footsteps of chainmail plopping onto the dirt floor. More carefully now, she continues. Pike in hand, Silyfer stays in tune with her senses as she marches on. Her left foot snags on to something and startles her. It's a sack, not too unlike her own. Intrigued, she sits and begins looking through it. At the top are what appears to be rations of some kind, definitely not Elvish food she can confidently identify. She lifts up the weird food. It appears to be two identical slices of bread with meat squeezed between them and some yellow sliced food placed inside. Upon separating the bread, a white gelatinous substance coats each slice of bread and the meat. Curious, Silyfer takes a bite out of the ration. She finds herself smiling in delight. ‘Whatever this is, it’s quite good!’ Silyfer eats the entirety of the food and leaves pleased with her meal. She begins to search the rest of the bag but is caught off guard by some very peculiar sounds. She hears odd chanting coming from behind her and more concerningly, it doesn’t appear to be far away.
Silyfer swiftly puts the bag back and looks for the source of the chanting. It’s very loud, sounds like a Human, and the words seem arcane in nature. Lurking around the midlands, Silyfer can’t help but feel exposed. There are no trees, bushes, or any architecture to hide behind. Taking tiny step after tiny step, the chanting grows in volume and she starts to hear what sounds like the spell he is casting. An oscillating frequency beams from the direction of the chanting man, some sort of continuous spell that he is casting. Nervously, Silyfer presses on. Both of her hands are gripping her pike tightly. She sees something in the distance finally. Some sort of building, an obelisk, she isn’t sure. It appears to be still in construction. The chanting man becomes visible to Silyfer. The man in robes walks over to a quarry and with a lifting a finger into the air, begins to lift a huge boulder midair. His eyes closed and saying strange incantations, he places the mass very close to the unfinished pillar structure. The man opens his eyes and stares at Silyfer who is only a few dozen yards away. The man physically recoils in shock. Scared of what other magics the man knows and what his intentions are, Silyfer jumps and starts sprinting as fast as her legs will take her despite the weight of her treasure and the dragging of her armor.
Still clutching her pike, she runs and runs and runs. She doesn’t know what’s faster, the kicking of her legs off the ground, the beating of her heart, or the sharp shaky breaths she can hardly take in. On and on she goes, too scared to even look behind her to see if he’s pursuing. Her legs grow tired and her body weak but the adrenaline keeps pumping throughout her veins compelling her to keep up her frantic sprint. Only once the violent pounding of her heart reaches her ears does she slow to a jog, then a walk, then collapses to the ground. She huffs and puffs more and more air in and out uncontrollably. With wobbly hands and questionable dexterity, she reaches for her waterskin, the last source of water on her. She slowly brings it to her lips and chugs and chugs. Water drips from her mouth from her panicked hands.
Silyfer puts her now empty waterskin back into her sack. Lying on the ground panting and terrified, she listens for any and all sound. Silyfer jolts up and scans all around herself. No sign of him anywhere. No noise, nothing. Initially, she’s relieved. There’s nothing for him to hide in out here so sneaking up on her would be virtually impossible. However, he did show immense arcane prowess. He could Polymorph into a deer, turn invisible in the middle of the night. The paranoia kept Silyfer on edge. A sting of anxiety repeatedly bit at her every time her eyes began to close. She began to wonder if she could ever fall-

1 DSD (Day Since Discovery)
Silyfer’s mouth dropped. Right before her very eyes laid the very escape she’d been looking for. Months of silent preparation, the man with the map, it all led to this discovery. Silyfer’s eyes scanned the remnants of the castle, which at this stage could barely be considered a castle. Stone rubble surrounded by broken glass is all that remains of the great fortress now. Her Elvish cat-like eyes notice a strange red glow radiating through some of the glass and debris. Cautiously, she tiptoes her way to investigate. Among the debris, sits a door, an old dungeon door, most likely what used to be the prisons of the old castle. A low rumble, sounds almost like a low vocal groan as if the dungeon itself is calling Silyfer, emitting with the glow. Silyfer thinks about the mundane repetitive life at home, the restrictive societal rules she must follow which demands so much yet for so little… She steps forward. Her mind wanders, her mind imagines the riches that are waiting to be unearthed… She steps forward. Her imagination conjures a most appealing image, she’s just returned home, covered in treasure. News of her legendary expedition has reached her home. Family, nobles, bards, peasants, farmers, every Elf she’s ever met and every Elf she hasn’t rushes to her presence. Amazement and admiration is painted on all of their faces… She steps forward. Clad in her shining chain mail, she bravely reaches down to open the dungeon door…
Her mind suddenly flashes an image of the bleeding man.
“Cursed map, why did I ever agree to this.”
Her hand jolts back like a scared turtle retreats back in its shell. Her eyes widened in fear. A single drop of sweat runs down her face. “No,” she thinks to herself, “I’ve come too far to turn back now,” her hand returns to the hatch and pulls the latch up, hearing its ancient hinges whine as the glow engulfs her vision.
She blindly gropes about until she feels a ladder and begins her descent into the ruins of Xylarthen’s Castle…

Her feet finally meet the cobblestone floor after dozens and dozens of anxiety inducing steps. She tries wearing a face of courage yet her jittering body betrays her feeble façade of confidence. Her metallic steps and clinking chainmail echoes throughout the pitch-black hallway. Silyfer came prepared however, reaching for one of her torches and igniting it. She realizes there is no hallway but instead a crammed room, filled with a smell of rot exacerbated by the heat of her torch. Her stomach drops. The only thing ahead of her is an old musty wooden door. Reluctantly, she pushes the door open…  
The wooden door squeaks and lets out a whine. Her senses are on full alert as she takes in every inch of her surroundings, every vibration, every odor. Stepping into the room, she realizes its another even smaller cramped room. The room is barely big enough to contain just herself and her torch. To her right she notices another simple wooden door, exactly like the door she had just previously opened. Still suspicious of what lies ahead, she presses her head against the door and tries listening in. A beaming hum, not too dissimilar to the hum of the entrance, fills her head and makes Silyfer temporarily disoriented. After taking a few moments to gather herself, she swallows nervously and goes to push the door open only to find the door seemingly pushing back. With all her might she pushes and rams her shoulder into the door. The door swings open, then a red mist dissipates out of the wood and starts to swing back shut. Silyfer remembers one of the men spoke of these traits of the dungeon, that the dungeon itself fights against you. She reaches for an iron spike one of those men gave her and attempts to slide it into place, holding the sturdy door ajar in case she needs to run back later. She slides it across the floor, only to slide under the door and the dungeon door swings back shut.  
Silyfer immediately clutches her torch and pike and stands guard scanning the room methodically for danger. Her Elvish arcane sense picks up something… strange in this room. Being gifted but untrained in simple magic, she can’t detect exactly where or what it is. Silyfer closes her eyes and tries concentrating on this strange extrasensory feeling… only to be interrupted by something most disturbing.  
A figure dives forward from a corner of the room just out of the torch’s light. In a raspy, guttural groan, a shambling corpse of a man curses Silyfer, “M-May your bones r-rot as m-my skin has, trespasser!” He dives again toward her, hitting his head on the stone floor. A smooshing sound is heard once his forehead smacks into the cobblestone beneath him, the force of his face first plunge making the skin and weak flesh of his neck peel off, disconnecting his head from his body. The gray, ghoulish head rolls across the room, revealing bugs inside eating at the brains of the dead Cleric.  
Silyfer gasps and feels a powerful urge to vomit from the sight of the horror. Panicked and thoroughly perturbed, she drops her torch and covers her mouth. Her still lit torch is inches away from the mummified man, illuminating his undead features and the colony of insects feasting on the inside of his head. Her breaths get sharper. Her head starts getting light. She stomps her foot onto the floor repeatedly. ‘Come on get it together now,’ she says to herself, ‘we didn’t come all this way just to get too scared now did we Siy, get it together!’ She lowers her knees, bringing herself even closer to the dead man’s head. Her arm reaches out to collect her torch, her fingers almost touching the decayed skin. The instant she feels contact with the torch, she jolts her arm back and takes a few deep breaths.  
Struggling to carry on, she moves one shaky foot in front of the other, the sound of her chainmail only getting louder with each step. No matter how hard she tries to stay calm, the dread and the panic creeps its way back in. Her breaths, ever so slightly, get a little slower, a bit more controlled. Silyfer hones in back onto that arcane tingling sense she felt… something… something about the wall opposite her…? She carefully puts her pike on her back and gently places a hand on the cobblestone wall. Once her hand touches the wall, she finds herself slightly startled. The section of wall distorts, a magical blue and black swirl appears and the wall is replaced with a set of wooden doors. Silyfer pushes her hand onto the doors, but they resist just like the doors prior.  
Silyfer backs up a few steps, this time going for a running start. Right as she is about to start charging shoulder first however, the door pops open abruptly towards Silyfer! She jumps back and instinctively draws her pike. Her eyes veer downward. A King Cobra slithers through the doors before they slam shut behind the lizard. Quickly it begins to slither and coil itself right in front of Silyfer, showing its wide neck and hisses towards the Elf. The cobra readies itself for a pounce and stares directly into her pupils. Silyfer sharply inhales, pulls her pike back, and then puffs out a quick exhale as she jabs the pike into the reptile, puncturing its body. Blood pours out of the poor snake as it lets out a horrible death rattle, before collapsing to the ground.  
Silyfer collects her thoughts and tries to keep herself steady. She pokes the snake with her pike, ensuring its defeat. She places a palm on the door. ‘Why did this door swing open for the lizard but not for me?’ Again she feels the resistance of the door, a pulsating force coming from within it. Puzzled, she steps back to attempt pushing the door open once again. She then stops, and slowly approaches the door instead. ‘If the snake was behind here, there could be more, maybe I can listen in through this door?’ Her head lays flatly onto the dungeon door, and instead of being greeted with the ominous low hum like before, she’s met with a chillingly empty silence. With a sigh, she paces back and prepares to run squarely through the door once more.  
Crashing through, she makes sure to place a hand on the door, holding it from closing, and grabs a spike with the other hand. She jabs the spike into the wall to hold the door open. The spike holds it for a moment, only for an aggressive humming to rumble through the door as it pushes through the spike and closes behind her. The moment the door closes, red mist rains out of the dungeon doors. The Elf sighs again, turns around and finds something rather intriguing. In the middle of a wide, long, empty, and perfectly square room lies a glowing yellow book surrounded by silver coins. Silyfer slowly walks towards the book and the coins, cautious but tempted by the coins. The book is open, appearing to be open around the exact middle. Before considering the possibilities of the tome, Silyfer picks up each of the silver, and a few gold, coins scattered around the glowing book. Silyfer begins feeling the weight of the coins in her sack, the sheer volume of coins is almost too much, she can’t help but smile knowing she’s actually found treasure, just like the stories her mother used to read to her as a small girl! Collecting the final coin, her gaze becomes immediately fixated on the glowing book. She hunches over to pick it up, feeling a sense of anticipation and amazement lifting it from the cold stone floor. ‘Is it magical, have I found a spellbook?’ she wonders to herself. Her eyes squint trying to make out what is written through the bright light. Suddenly the pages turn over, and a bestial growl roars out of it. Large razor sharp teeth emerge from its pages. Silyfer yelps as the book closes shut right in front of her nose, almost crunching it right off. She grips the spine of the book and chucks it to the corner of the room. The living book smacks against the walls and all noise echoes out of it, leaving nothing but the silence of the room. Silyfer stands for an unknowable amount of time, staring into the corner of the room, making sure the tome doesn’t emerge from the shadows.  
Silyfer already finds herself feeling the fatigue of this expedition. She’s only three rooms in to this ancient place and she’s already seen such horrible sights! She begins thinking to herself that his whole mission was such a stupid impulse, that she should see herself as lucky for yanking a few coins from a place she doesn’t belong in, and should return to where she came. Then she remembers, the wind that blasted the map out of her hands. She won’t remember how to get back. Maybe there is a town nearby? But where, how far, who lives there and do they allow outsiders? What- she stops her thoughts from racing out of control. She deeply sucks in enough air to fully fill her lungs and she thinks to herself, one more door and then I find myself somewhere safe to reside.  
The heavy chainmail begins to drag her down. She knows she needs rest but the idea of letting her guard down here in this creepy old castle sounds terrifying. She moves with whatever stamina she has left to the leftmost side of the dark damp room and finds another dreaded dungeon door. Never in her life has she felt so defeated by the presence of a simple door. She presses her shoulder up to the door and pushes with a tired grunt.  
Pushing through, she attempts another spike only for it to fail unceremoniously. Silyfer begins to wonder if the men who told her to spike the doors were lying to her. Before exhaustion or disappointment could take her however her spirits were lifted. More mysterious silver and gold coins covered the floor. This time also, an oddly colored murky liquid held in a potion vial amongst the coins as well. She quickly scoops up the coins, the most she’s ever felt on her at one time, and then she examines the potion. The liquid inside appears to look like a grayish, dirty milky color with a gooey thick consistency, not exactly appealing to consume but definitely piques her interest. After filling her sack to the brim with coins, the fatigue sets in once again. The weight of all of those metal coins and the chainmail armor begin to wear on her. ‘Just need to rest, just a few minutes, nothing will happen right?’ she thinks to herself. She drops to her rear and begins to sit in the dreary, empty, dark damp stone room left with her fear and her thoughts. She struggles to allow her muscles to cease tensing up despite being so worn out and depleted. She sits for a while and fills her lungs once more. She’s getting sick of the odor down here, the smell of decay permeating through every wall and surface polluting every inch of her nostrils.  
Renewing a bit of her strength, she rises once more, still feeling the weight of her wares. She thinks to herself, ‘How much longer can I go on for? How much more can I really carry?’ Despite the fatigue, there is still a tinge of greed, of want that begins to seep through her armor, through her skin. A little more couldn’t hurt, one more room and then I’ll be done… Her fingers make her way to her coins. Such riches… she’s never felt so many in one place before, there has to be more in the next- no no no its not worth it. She physically shakes her head. ‘Time to head back’ she says to herself, ‘all of this treasure will be for naught if I can’t find a town to rest in anyway.’ Although a feeling of wanting lingers inside her heart, Silyfer finds the strength inside her to turn away and head out through the doors in whence she came, not without several pushes and a struggle of course.  
With a creaky wail, the door opens once more. Her eyes fixate back on the book, which hasn’t budged from the corner she tossed it to. Unsure of its queer magical properties, she carefully draws her pike and makes her way to the door, never taking her eyes off the glowing beams shooting out of the mysterious artifact.  
With her back to her wall, and having observed not a single movement from the book, she feels only somewhat confident in turning her back and placing her hand on the wall. Once again the illusion breaks and the double dungeon doors appear.  
To her surprise, she pushes the doors open and slides an iron spike into place… it sticks! The doors didn’t immediately overpower the metal, now strange red mist, it actually stayed for her planned return. Sadly for Silyfer, she couldn’t bathe in this joy for much longer than a second as the stench of death assaulted her senses. The dead cobra now has a pool of blood below it, and the undead Cleric’s head has no visible flesh as thousands of insects cover it and ravenously pick apart what was a man’s face. Trying not to gag and hold back the intense feeling of nausea, Silyfer quickly paces to the next door and rams her shoulder into it.  
Luck strikes twice for the young Elf as she slides another spike into place. Now she can’t but smile just a little despite wanting to leave this place so badly. Not letting desperation overtake her though, she still walks slowly and cautiously towards the entrance of the dungeon, eagerly awaiting to be hailed by the glorious outdoors.  
The immediate change in the air, the clean forested, wondrous air, almost brought a tear to Silyfer’s eyes. Even though it's dark and cold and she truly has no idea where she is, she is finally outside once more, what else could an Elf desire? Rummaging through her belongings, she discovers that she only has a week’s of food and merely a single water skin to sustain her thirst. Xylarthen’s Castle was apparently built near a river basin though, as through a brief surveying of the castle’s surroundings, she found a pool of water. Squatting down, Silyfer retrieves her flask of oil, one of the things the travelling men told her to bring for monsters despise the scent of burning oil, pouring it out, filling it with the water from the basin instead. This should give her another day’s worth… Hopefully. With no clear direction to go from here, she decides to follow a dirt road leading to the castle southward. After a few hours of walking, she leaves the woods and is greeted with flat plains as far as the eye can see. The overwhelming scale of freedom after being confined to the dark dungeon walls is nearly too much for her little Elven heart to handle. She may be lost, but at least she’s lost in a beautiful world. The grass beneath her is rich, full of life, and damp with the gentlest touch of rainwater. The dewy air frees Silyfer’s chest from the suffocating toxicity of the dungeon’s atmosphere. An urge to frolic, to skip and dance in the vast meadows consumes her. Carefree, Silyfer prances around the flower filled floor laid out before her. Laughing and feeling the stress of her expedition ooze out of her seamlessly, she falls to the floor and looks into the sky. Big puffy white clouds glide high above her. A divine glow behind them, the massive, soft, comforting presence of the marshmallow giants bring a warm sensation to Silyfer’s heart. Reluctantly, Silyfer rises from her trance and aimlessly wanders the endless stretches of green.

This serves as a prologue, a basic story set up for why my main character is exploring the dungeon as explained in ODND Men and Magic. No dice rolls were made here, the only real 'gameplay' here was that I made her stats off page and her inventory which there is snippets of in this prologue. Every event, every encounter, travel, inventory mention, is actual gameplay turned into my way of storytelling. At any point any character can die and I may make another character or characters later and have any events preceding those newer characters affect the future. Anyways enough preamble to the prologue lmao, I hope you enjoy. Xylarthen's Castle 2 will be posted later today and a link will be attached to this one.

Among the most wonderful things in life are discovered by accident. Bored swordsmen uncover new ways to open up their foes through seemingly random swipes and stabs. Wizards stumble upon ancient texts that revolutionize magic and the very foundation of arcana. Desperate times bring Clerics to their knees as they find new ways to channel the divine when it appears all is lost.

History likes to repeat itself. A lone Elf woman by the name of Silyfer {SIGH-lif-ur} has had very unfortunate luck befall her. This lone lady, standing tall with long golden straight hair, fair golden tan skin wrapped in chain mail with a pike at her side, believes she is bound for greatness yet she can’t even catch her breath at her misfortune.

Before I go on about her misfortune however, it is important to learn how it is this Elf got here of course. See, Silyfer was living a life of monotony, of conformity, of routine that she herself didn’t have much control over. For years, she’s been fed the same drivel most were, to go become ordinary. Work a menial labor job, the same as those who came before you of course, tradition is important, court a man, one arranged outside of your control of course, bear children, and maybe have mere minutes to yourself to allocate to enjoyment which by the time you have figured out how you wish to allocate said time, it is time to rest and begin the cycle again. While stuck in this never ending game of mind numbing repetition, her parents have been busy picking out a man for young Silyfer. One who fits their idea of a good man with little consideration for their daughter. While awaiting to hear from her parents, Silyfer (Siy by those closest to her), began to see through the lunacy of this way of life. She saw the lack of control, the societal pressure to be someone that someone else wants you to be. Silyfer quickly became fed up, withdrew from her parents more and more, and even from the Elves around her.

While her discontentment grew and festered, her ears would pick up on marching bands of men, men adorned with weapons, armor, magic, and holy symbols. She would approach them, ask them about their wares. Some found her and her questions cute, slipped her a few coins and some old adventuring gear, and a compliment here and there. They spoke of something mysterious, dangerous… Xylarthen’s Ruined Castle! A gold rush that called adventurers far and wide to delve into the deep dark depths of damaged detritus and long lost traps and a despicable evil nature that seeped into the old cobblestone walls of the castle. They spoke of monsters, magic, malice, and mayhem. Each passing party recounted similar dreams of grandeur and glory, honor and fame, followed by gloomy warnings. Despite the grievous details passed on to her, Silyfer’s wonder only multiplied by the day, exponentially when she caught another travelling troop of battleborn men trekking across the land.

One day, her wonder overtook her wits. A bloodied man rushed into town, a man who was his group’s mage, or one of many mages, Silyfer never knew for sure. He yelped and cried out for potions, a Cleric, a God who could make the pain stop and could mend his bones back to the way they were. Siy met the man’s pleas and began bringing him to the nearest church. His breaths were quick, sharp, and his mind was scattered.

“My men… my friends, brothers in… in the castle…” he frequently would stop and stumble and catch his breath, “Monsters, they were everywhere!”

Silyfer knew not to ask the man about his expedition for she quickly put the pieces together as to what most likely happened to the rest of his party. She simply let in a sharp inhale and picked up the pace to the temple. She did not know how much time this Human man had left. Once in the temple, without question the priests rushed to his side. Potions and prayers showered the man. Cuts vanished, blood evaporated, and his mind put… somewhat at ease. Immediately he knelt before the Elves and expressed his deepest gratitudes. A special thank you to Silyfer and several nods and bows quickly followed. He stood up and began to make his way out of the temple.

“Cursed map,” he muttered to himself, not realizing Silyfer’s long elven ears could hear him, “I can’t believe I ever agreed to this.” He waved his right hand up, and a parchment flew up and out of the temple door.

Silyfer’s curiosity and hunger for adventure suddenly overwhelmed her as she found herself (almost completely disregarding the man and nearly knocked into the poor fellow) rushing towards the map like a child chasing a butterfly. The map would bob and weave and dance this way and that, Silyfer running behind and catching strange glances from her neighbors. After an embarrassing amount of time, the paper finally swooped low enough for her to hop up and snatch the map.

Her eyes grew wide, the map was exactly what she needed. Her hometown was there, a very detailed route going through it, and at the bottom right corner of the parchment, a large castle was depicted. A smile too strong to be contained grew from her thin pink lips all the way to her dark brown eyes.

Sadly, Silyfer isn’t smiling right now for you see, amongst a long long journey through fields, plains, forest, and rivers, she’s gone through more rations than she’s care to admit. Worst of all, while checking her map to ensure she is on track, a horrible gust of wind came up eastward and knocked the map right out of her hands! Unlike last time, the weight of her chain mail exhausted her, and the map flew faster than a starving eagle darting towards its meal. Panic started setting in. ‘How will I get there? How will I get back? Do I turn back now?’ She thought. Her breathing became quick, sharp, and her mind scattered, except this time there was no kind face to offer a helping hand and no God willing to save her. She brushed her fear aside, ‘I didn’t come all the way out here for nothing,’ she said to herself.

Silyfer carried on. She tried desperately to remain confident, to trick herself into believing she knew where to go. Her heart rate would tell another story however. One where every field starts to blend together, every landmark bleeds into one another. A story full of ‘wait, have I been here before…?’

After several hours of doubt and barely concealed fear, she smiled. Wider than her smile upon grabbing and reading the map. Before her, sat a huge ruined pile, a vast castle built by generations of mad wizards and insane geniuses. Before her, sat the adventure that she, and many like her, have yearned for.

Many of the greatest discoveries in life were found by accident. Whether Silyfer discovers treasure beyond her wildest dreams or learns what happens after death, remains to be seen…

I have been wanting to do some solo rpgs for ages now ever since discovering Me Myself and Die. I always wondered if there was a way for solo rpgs to work. Yes I could play Skyrim or something and use mods to vary up the gameplay and the like but TTRPGs have things that video games don't, being much more loose and easy to mess around with rules and such. I started last a few days ago and have been playing almost daily now, the immersion is top tier knowing that my character, once they die, is DEAD DEAD unless I have some way of reviving which is not easy to come by in ODND. Having ambient music that matches the scene I'm in, creepy dungeon music when I began the campaign taking the first steps of my dungeon delve, playing beautiful lighthearted music when I left the dungeon and travelled some gorgeous meadows with Ents walking by gracefully from one forest to the next, and then tense music when I accidentally stumbled upon someone's territory that I didn't even knew existed until they surrounded me and interrogated me!

Its been an absolute blast, thinking about taking my fifteen handwritten pages and posting them somewhere (maybe here?) in condensed entries, like maybe one per ingame day (about to start day 4 so that would be about 5 pages per ingame day).

Update Edit Okay very quickly I have three people telling me to post it lol I hear you loud and clear! Later today I'll post them here