As a child, you often daydreamed about a world you invented and you would occasionally write about it. 10 years later, you hear many different voices whispering to you. They are the prayers of the inhabitants of your imaginary world. To them, it has been 1000 years since you abandoned them.
Tough shit, kids, God has to write a fuckin thesis.
Did I just get burned by my own fucking sword?!
— Our tiefling bard (disguised as an elf) to our DM after his magical sword said that a fair fight didn’t sound like him