Among the initial actions I undertook in Esoteric Ebb was remarkably injuring myself by presenting a statement as a question to a kobold guard. To clarify, “you are a kobold.” My Dexterity urged me to avoid embarrassment with a clever retort, but I failed the corresponding dice roll and nearly bit my own tongue off.
“Leverage this to your benefit,” growled my Strength stat. “Intimidate him with your life’s essence.” So I spat blood through my visor, splattering it all over the kobold’s feet. “He appears confused,” noted my Wisdom. “Your actions have undoubtedly left an impression on his dark spirit.” Later, the kobold and I reached an agreement – once more through a dice roll – that neither of us enjoyed the flavor of milk, which somehow initiated a quest to become a milkman. Allegedly, the pay is good.