Falcons Moon Endreign: Civic Duty, Dragon Included
Schedule
Sat Aug 30 2025 at 12:00 pm to 04:00 pm
UTC-05:00Location
Rose State College | Midwest City, OK
TLDR: Come hang out at Endreign! schedule to come!It began, as most civic catastrophes do, with the wizards.
A Sourcerer rose — the eighth son of an eighth son — and magic itself began behaving like a drunk at Hogswatch: loud, erratic, and inclined to break furniture just to see what happens. Towers cracked, libraries burned, and the Watch was left writing incident reports that included the phrases “hostile footnotes” and “books demanding voting rights.”
Rincewind, naturally, was involved. And by “involved” we mean “running away very fast while accidentally saving the city.” (Filed under: Incident Closed by Outsourcing, Please Review at Audit.)
But the cracks he left behind became doors — and what spilled through was worse. The Dungeon Dimensions.
Shadows with teeth, walls that whispered, corridors where the air itself was trying to evict you. Adventurers plunged into it, clutching their swords and their last nerves, while the Watch’s official stance was, “Yes, this is definitely part of the plan.” Few plans involved being struck by random lightning or frozen solid mid-sentence, but forms were filed anyway.
And then — Dragons.
Not the polite, heraldic kind. The hoarding, roaring, “fire qualifies as public policy now” kind. One in particular declared itself King, claimed the Patrician’s chair, and began tallying gold like a bookkeeper with heartburn. The Watch, somehow, ended up helping. (Filed later under: Strategic Miscalculation, Do Not Mention in Front of Citizens.)
And so we come to now:
The Patrician, locked away in his own castle. The dragon, fat on taxes and treasure, squatting where no dragon should squat. Magic fizzes out of the walls like bad plumbing. And the Watch — weary, unpaid, and carrying far too many forms in triplicate — prepares to march into the fire and either save the city… or die trying.
The odds are impossible. A million to one.
Which, of course, is exactly the point. Everyone knows that a million-to-one chance succeeds nine times out of ten — but only if it’s a million to one. Not a thousand to one, not ten to one. No. You have to stack the odds properly. That means:
Charging headlong at the dragon when you’ve dropped your sword,
Slipping on a loose cobblestone so you tumble spectacularly into the one weak point in its scales,
Attempting the rescue at precisely five minutes before sunset in a thunderstorm during a civic holiday,
And preferably while someone is shouting, “This will never work!” at the top of their lungs.
Anything less, and you’re just gambling. But make it impossible enough, and the universe itself starts sweating, looks at the paperwork, and goes: “Oh, fine, let them win, it’ll be funny.”
And so the Watch marches on. Not because it’s sensible. Not because it’s safe. But because, by gods, it’s at least one in a million.
