[ WP ] You suddenly find yourself transported to a campaign you were a dungeon master of . You 're not a player character however but a lowly goblin . Using your knowledge you must survive against a group of very high level and very murderous adventurers .

`` Roll Intelligence.'' 
 
 I smile over a low screen at my compatriots across the table. The Wizard is sweating bullets as she looks at her character sheet and grabs the appropriate number of dice from the center of the table. A diorama shows the characters in the antechamber of a dungeon they had discovered, miniature soldiers intently stood in front of a tiny door to the next room. The clatter of dice resounds in the living room as the Wizard narrowly avoids setting off an explosive trap while dispelling the magical runes on the door. Not that they would have known. 
 
 I remove the door from the field and allow the party egress into the next room as I begin setting up an encounter. It's a small room with a few goblins sitting around, discussing the intricacies of underground's socio-political influence on the general world economy. I chuckle to myself. The players do n't need to know the details, and they rarely bother to look for them. The Cleric gets a laugh at the description anyway. One goblin sits apart from the rest, leaning against a small pile of treasure that immediately catches the eye of the Rogue. They head over and begin striking up a conversation. I'm surprised. They usually are n't this kind. 
 
 `` And what sort of shinies do you have here?'' He asks. `` Any for sale?'' 
 
 The goblin looks at him and cackles madly as the rest of the party approaches. *Of course they head straight to the loot. * `` Sale? For *sale? *'' the imp mocks. `` This is of the hoard of the Goblin King! It is not'For Sale,' especially not to you lot!'' 
 
 The Fighter approaches and draws his sword. He makes a roll or two to look intimidating as he threatens the goblin. 
 
 I close my eyes behind my screen and laugh, getting way too into character. `` I have no business with the likes of you! Now if you would be so kind... As...'' I trail off, looking around at my new environment. 
 
 `` To...'' *I'm no longer in my apartment. * I look up from my low vantage point and see the murderous faces of the most committed LARP-ers ever. There are four of them, all stone-faced and looking like they came out of the most grim-dark Renaissance fair in existence. I notice a crystal vial of clouded liquid hanging from the Bard's belt - a trinket that I had given to them a few sessions ago - and it suddenly clicks. 
 
 `` Leave..?'' My heart begins racing as I back up, scrambling against the pile of gold, gems, and a few assorted weapons that I found myself in. *These are my friends. These are the characters of the group I was just with... * **and they're a bunch of murder hobos. ** 
 
 The Fighter approaches, metal scraping against metal as he crouches down and gently puts his sword to my neck, smiling like a sociopathic killer. I know not to take the threat lightly - in this world, *he is. * I feel a trickle of something snake it's way down my throat, just under the blade. 
 
 `` Look, just take what you want and go,'' I say loudly, alerting the other distracted goblins across the room. `` Just, do n't kill me.'' 
 
 The fighter removes his sword as the Rogue moves in to claim the lion's share. I move out of the way and eye the Bard's trinket. While they're distracted, I pilfer the potion and dash to the other side of the room, downing the vile vial as I ran. The other goblins move in to intervene as I fade from view, running down the dimly lit catacombs to the boss room via the most hidden and direct route I could. 
 
 I do n't want to be stuck here. I do n't want to die here. I need the players to see that it's me, but how? From their perspective I'm already playing out all the NPC's. I hazard a guess I'll have to weaken them enough to convince them, and hopefully they are intrigued by the relative genius of this particular imp. I smile briefly as I concoct a plan. I know every inch of this fortress. I *designed* it. I may not be strong, but I would use this dungeon's defenses to bring them to their knees, employing strategy the likes of which they've never seen. I knew more than my allies, and much, *much* more than my new enemies. 
 
 A mad cackle echoes through the darkened halls. 
 
 **I am the master of this dungeon. **
