The morning after the Sanctuary Showcase, a new kind of quiet settled over the dungeon. It wasn't the heavy, defeated silence from our last loss, nor the tense, anxious silence before a match. It was a deep, satisfied, and profoundly sleepy silence. The silence of a job well done.
My team was gathered in the Tea Nook, basking in the glory of their ridiculous, wonderful victory. Zazu, the newly crowned Chamomile Champion, was, of course, fast asleep in a plushy armchair, a soft, happy snore escaping his lips. A small, hand-carved wooden trophy of a sleeping elf sat on the table beside him.
Guarding his armchair with the solemn dedication of a royal guard, Sir Crumplebuns stood perfectly still, his Spoonblade held at a respectful salute. Beside him, Sir Wobble-a-lot was trying his best to copy the heroic pose, but his permanent wobble made him look more like he was gently rocking a baby to sleep.
