![]() You arrive at the gaming table and it’s only then, in the soft glow of the setting sun that’s drifting through the room that you realize the sound wasn’t made by a ghastly creature or deadly monster. It’s softer this time, but still you begin to notice the hurried onset of sweat at your brow, which contradicts the autumn chill of the house. There’s another mysterious sound as you enter the dimly lit game room. It’s game night and that means you must rise above the quiver of trepidation in your leg and ignore the tiny voice in your head pleading with you to turn around, lest you come face to face with one of the specters that haunts the darker recesses of your house. You hesitate to continue walking, but only for a moment. Perhaps a gasp? Certainly a creak of some kind originating from the very heart of your home the place where the games dwell. You can’t wait to spread out the components of tonight’s first game as you await the arrival of your gaming group.īut what was that sound coming from down the hall? A squeal almost. And, truthfully, the only night of the week that even matters.
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