Grandma listens to a D & D Campaign

This morning there was a D & D campaign running at our house. Three Bates (Nathan, Alicia and Gabe) arrived to join Dalton, Ceilidh, Xavier, Naomi who were already up. Alex was sleeping downstairs in a bed next to table. He was able to put his clothes on under the covers, and nonchalantly squeeze out from beneath them. He left a pile of them on the floor in this attempt.

I was running as well to clear the D & D table, clean the floor, make the beds so there would be some semblance of order on the side of the campaign. Estefania was on duty was sweeping the floor, gathering clothes as well and then heading upstairs making cupcakes to feed the campaign participants. When I went upstairs she had Rhiannon on the counter, a bowl of cupcake batter set between the baby’s legs and she was letting the 2 year old crack the eggs into the mix.

The level of excitement was high downstairs. Two and three conversations going at the sme time, all seemingly able to get enough from each of the streams of information that they could fully participate in the game. No one asking whose turn it was next. Gales of laughter, multiple sets of die rolling on the table. I am surprised that the characters often speak in dialects and deeper tones than I usually hear from these people.

The conversation was going as follows:

Let’s do a quest that we will most likely die on.
What is the most dangerous quest.
Let’s go in a cave where there are dragons.
Let’s go where the girls are. They are awesome and can do anything.
The voices over talk each other but somehow they decide the order or their turns and they talk about their characters and what it is that they can do.
I climb up a dragons’ back.
You take five points of damage.
Why hit me? I am a priest.
Poke his eyeball out? That looks like a move.
Two dragons come out and shoot lightening all across the room. You must all roll the die under fifteen
to miss it.
If you die in this area, someone may come to revive you.
Come on! That was so cheap.
Why are all of these enemies male?
How terribly evil. I loathe you.
I’m healed now.
Just because I was friends with you when we came does not mean I am friends with you now.
I need to do a charisma check.
I am considering that in my head, all of the evil possibilities.

Some of the sentences are followed by an demonic laughs.

Xavier sits close by; alternately swing his stuffy in the air and catching it, then clasping it closely to his chest in fear, Five year old Naomi squeezes a chair between the thirteen year old and the twelve year old cousins. Her stuffy is placed on the table, close to her.

Gabe jumps out of his chair every time a train goes by, runs out the door to look out over the hill at it as it passes, returns and takes his place again.

Ah, the joys of D& D.