🎲 DM Introduction — The First Glimpse of the Chessmon Kingdom
As Dungeon Master, you read softly, letting the silence do its work.
As you pass beneath the stone arch, you hear no shouting. There are no merchants calling for customers, no soldiers keeping time with marching steps.
The plaza opens before you like a completed board.
It is not loud. It is broad, solid, ordered.
The ground is covered in black-and-white patterns. They are not decorative. They are measurements: exact distances, deliberate flows, paths the body follows before the mind even notices.
The Chessmon move without colliding, without arguing, without looking at you any longer than necessary. They are not ignoring you… they simply do not waste time.
Near the ovens, several Mochimon trade clay tablets for warm rations. They laugh. They laugh genuinely.
One of them approaches—soft, warm—and offers you something fresh from the oven. It does not ask your name. It does not ask where you come from.
That gesture disarms you more than any armed guard ever could.
🪨 Walls, Weight, and Calm
The walls surrounding the plaza are thick. Ancient. They do not intimidate. They convey safety.
A Gotsumon sleeps leaning against a column, as if the stone itself had accepted it centuries ago. No one watches over it. No one urges it on.
Near a fountain, a Mochimon plays with a small Xiaomon, laughing as the tiny Digimon tries to mimic its movements. It does not look like a caged pet. It looks like… family.
You begin to notice something unsettling by its absence:
👉 you see no cages 👉 you see no public punishments 👉 you see no shouting propaganda
Only function.
♝ The Center of the Plaza
At the heart of the plaza, raised upon a marble base, a BishopChessmon delivers a speech. Its voice is not furious, nor passionate. It is clear. Measured. Administrative.
A weekly decree. An imperial notice. Order turned into words.
Some listen. Others continue working. Both seem equally correct.
♜ At the Far End
Beyond the plaza, framing the exit of the kingdom, stand two gigantic RookChessmon.
They do not move. But they breathe. They do not threaten.
They simply are.
Living fortresses, motionless, watching the outskirts as if time itself had chosen to stop around them.
And then, as an adventurer, you understand:
This place does not welcome you with promises. It does not frighten you with violence.
It greets you with something far more dangerous.
Stability.
DM pauses. Looks at the players.
— What do you do?