The Discourse Die
written by Dee, the Weaver in Green
illustrated by Sin, the Weaver in Blue
The Discourse Die is an empty box made of crystal, so thin that it feels like it might break at any moment. The faces are etched with flowers and daggers, so beautiful and ornate that it is sometimes difficult to discern what you rolled until it's too late.
The Discourse Die wants to be rolled. Its power is palpable and satisfying. When people listen to your words, it feels good. You want to say more words that people will also listen to. But speak too much, or without sufficient care, and your words may cause more harm than good. Be careful of going too often to the Well of Discourse, and of the potions you draw from its depths. Not all water is safe to drink.
The Discourse Die was designed as a protest against those who use honeyed words to build empires for themselves, who paint themselves as paragons of virtue while planting burning seeds of rumor and discord in the ground. When people speak uncarefully in rooms where their words carry weight, countless others are forced to bear the burden of the consequences wrought by those careless words.
Some people enjoy discourse, the casual riff-like debate over ethics and morality. Others just want to be left alone.
When you roll the Discourse Die, consider:
- Who will be hurt by your words?
- What is it you truly want to say?
- Do you really need to say it?
| Roll | Effect |
|---|---|
| Bend | You speak, but no one listens. Maybe they cannot hear you. Maybe you have nothing to say. |
| Weave | You speak, and your words start conversations in other rooms about what you said, carrying your influence to the world beyond. Perhaps these discussions happened years ago. Perhaps they're happening now. Perhaps both. The world moves in response to your words, opening paths you never dreamed of. |
| Fray | You speak, and the world listens, grasping your every word as though it were gospel. Perhaps they listen too well; you yourself have doubts about what you said, but it's too late; the world has moved on without you, on your behalf. |
| Tear | You speak, and the world recoils, tearing itself asunder in pursuit of the truths buried in your words. Things you didn't mean to say, or things you meant to keep hidden. The discourse churns and warps and roils beyond your control, leaving you and countless others in its wake, battered and bruised and cynical. |