The Cursed Codex

by Matthew S. Cox

  It didn’t matter. Keith had Sunday wide open. That his friends all had so much stuff to do during the week this year usually bothered him, but today, he welcomed the extra prep time. Carlos had football practice, Elliot had a project due for a chemistry class he’d been taking at a tenth-grade level, and Ashur played soccer with a league not associated with the school. Ashur’s parents were both doctors, and surprisingly, they didn’t pressure him much—though his friend reacted to getting a B with great alarm, and the one time he’d gotten a C, he panicked like he’d been expelled.

  Once Keith arrived home Friday afternoon, he chucked his book bag into the corner and forgot about it. He spent the rest of the day studying the Gamemaster’s Codex and the Player’s Compendium. The untapped intellect that let him coast through schoolwork without taking notes kicked into overdrive, and he soaked up the mechanics of the game system. In hours, everything clicked into place.

  Around seven, he reached the end of the Codex where The Devouring started. As if settling in with a good novel, he sat in bed with his back against the wall (using his pillow for cushioning) and slurped iced tea while poring over the module.

  The premise of the adventure revolved around an evil wizard named Yzil who lived in a tower far removed from civilization. Actually, the module had named him ‘Woznar,’ but Sarah had crossed it out, written ‘lame’ next to it, and ‘corrected’ every instance of the word ‘Woznar’ to Yzil.

  From his refuge, the Dark Wizard sent forth a powerful negative magical presence, which expanded like a stain outward over the land of Aldrenor, absorbing the life from anything it covered. Wherever it touched, plants died, the ground blackened, and anyone foolish enough to remain either withered away or fell victim to creatures attracted to the tainted energy.

  A group of player characters—adventurers—much tougher and braver than peasants, decided to take on this wizard before the growing blight consumed the entire land. While the spreading darkness would slowly kill commoners, it had no effect on players.

  Okay, it’s a pretty simple plot, but I guess it’s meant to be basic for new players.

  Sarah had added margin notes in the module as well, comments about some of the townspeople her players had interacted with. A blacksmith, Gerard, in particular, she’d turned into an agent of the wizard when the module itself didn’t even give him a name or any significant role other than being a vendor. In simple towns with no relevance to the plot, she’d added people influenced by the Dark Wizard. A note: ‘glowing red eyes – perception (tricky)’ suggested an observant character could tell who’d fallen under Yzil’s influence.

  “Oh, wow… She changed the story.”

  His ‘you can do that?’ moment left him gazing at her writing. She didn’t like ‘coloring within the lines’ either. The preprinted module hadn’t been good enough for her, so she made it better… alive. Could he possibly do the same thing? Take some meaningless NPC vendor or villager and add another whole layer of subplot? It didn’t seem that hard. None of the rules in the book said he had to use the module exactly as printed. The whole point of the game was imagination… so why not?

  The more he read, the more the little town of Sondemere felt like a real place. Initially, he’d been approaching it like a computer game. NPCs existed only to be clicked on so they could barf out quest text. But, here, without the restriction of a computer, any fictional person could be anything he wanted. Even, as Sarah had done, changing in mid-game. Some of her handwriting suggested that her players suspected an innocent mayor of being part of the plot, so she’d modified it to make the man appear guilty but actually be a good guy who’d been smuggling food and potions into a village controlled by Yzil.

  “Cool.”

  Keith continued reading about how the story opened with the player characters in a tavern hearing tales of the devouring black energy. Naturally, everyone else who tried to stop it had gone missing. Nevertheless, the player characters were supposed to decide to go, either because it was the noble thing to do, or in hopes of the 5,000 gold piece reward the king offered.

  The module had maps of henchmen lairs, a couple underground layouts, plus some encounters in the woods. Keith read and studied all of it, flipping back and forth to the rules section whenever he didn’t recognize a creature ability or a rule reference.

  A few minutes past nine, his closet door rattled. The knob twitched back and forth like someone locked inside tried to get out.

  Keith jumped, nearly throwing the book across his bedroom. Wide-eyed, he gripped two handfuls of comforter and stared at the door. His green baseball cap, hanging on a plastic sticky hook, wobbled side to side. Whoever—or whatever—tried to open his closet door couldn’t be a figment of his imagination.

  His throat dried out as he sat frozen, open-mouthed and gawking.

  “Keith?” asked his mother from the hallway door.

  “Aah!” he shouted and jumped, tearing his attention away from the closet. “Mom?”

  She leaned in. “Almost time to sleep, hon. What’s got you so jumpy?”

  “Geez, Mom. I’m thirteen. I should be able to stay up past nine. Besides, it’s Friday night.” However, Keith didn’t feel thirteen at the moment. His closet had stopped rattling, but he found himself wanting his mother to stay right where she stood.

  She scratched at her hair while sighing. “Homework done?”

  “I’m going to do it Sunday. It’s not that much.”

  His mother tapped her foot, giving him the Look of Judgment. A few seconds later, she raised a hand in surrender. “All right. Fine. You can push it ’til ten.”

  He grinned. “Cool. Thanks, Mom.”

  When she walked away, Keith turned his head toward the closet, expecting the door to start shaking again. He stared for a while, but it didn’t move. Eventually, his courage caught up with his curiosity, and he slipped off the bed. Hand out (and quivering), he crept across the room toward the closet. The carpet in front of the door chilled his feet, and a faint aroma of pine needles lingered in the air.

  “Whoa. That’s messed up.”

  The scent disappeared so fast, he filed it away as imagination.

  Keith closed his hand around the knob, and gasped. The metal had become as cold as the front door’s knob in midwinter. He swallowed hard, for the first time in his life worrying a monster might be in his closet.

  Come on. Don’t be a wimp.

  Jaw clenched, he twisted the knob and yanked the door open.

  His closet appeared normal. Hanging clothes at eye level, a bunch of boxes and old board games around the bottom. The box of Styrofoam pellets and model airplanes remained on the shelf above the hanger bar. It wound up in there since he’d become tired of waiting for his father to take them to the attic.

  “Huh. That’s weird.”

  He shut the door, took a step back and waited, but nothing happened.

  “Whatever.” Keith flopped back on his bed to read.

  5

  Characters

  By 11:00 a.m. Saturday, Keith had skimmed over some of the spiral notebooks in the box, which had been used to track enemy creatures’ health points and magic points during fights, as well as for mid-game notes about story progress. Whenever a player did damage to a monster, she’d cross out the old total and update it. Most of it looked like giant, but basic, math problems. Here and there, notes indicated which player the creature focused on and sometimes the word ‘stunned,’ ‘blinded,’ or ‘sleeping’ had been added and crossed out. He understood about initiative and how to resolve actions in order, so all the jots made sense.

  He felt ready. At least, as ready as possible without ever doing it before. The box of stuff even had a GM screen, a stiff four-panel cardboard folding barrier he could set up to keep his dice rolls and map notes hidden from the players. It would be less fun for everyone if they knew the answers ahead of time or could peek at his maps. Plus, he wanted the guys to have fun, so if they couldn’t see his dice rolls, he could bend the truth and
not let them die. One section in the Codex talked about various GM styles from hard core (only roll stats once and you’re stuck with whatever you get) to storyteller, where none of the rules mattered as much as a good story. That part encouraged giving new players a pleasant experience so they didn’t get turned off to the game and miss out on years of adventure.

  Dad hauled a square card table with folding metal legs up from the basement that he could set up in his bedroom for the game, which should be plenty of room for Ashur, Elliot, and Carlos plus him. Barefoot, in a T-shirt and jeans, he paced around his room, waiting.

  His mother had a thing about shoes in the house.

  The doorbell rang at 11:08.

  “I got it!” yelled Keith as he ran down the stairs to the front door.

  Ashur’s face hovered in the tiny, square window in the middle.

  “Hey, man. What’s”—Keith froze after opening the door and noticing Tira standing next to him—“your sister doing here?”

  “I wanna play, too,” said Tira. A small skirt attached to her pink top bounced when she did. Without waiting for an answer, she ducked inside and pulled off her miniature Uggs.

  Ashur entered and closed the door behind him while mouthing, “Mom made me.”

  “Uhh, that’s cool. Is she housebroken?” Keith patted Tira on the head, which made her snarl playfully. “You guys want some tea or anything?”

  “Got any Pepsi?” asked Ashur.

  “Nah. Mom thinks I’ll get cancer and die if I drink even one sip. Tea’s got stevia, or we have plain.”

  “Yeah, your mom’s like a sugar stormtrooper.” Ashur followed him into the kitchen after ditching his sneakers. His socks slipped on the smooth floor, almost taking him off his feet. “Whoa. Umm, yeah. Stevia’s fine.”

  Tira padded over and stood beside her brother, who handed her a plastic cup of tea.

  The doorbell rang again.

  “Go on up. I’ll be right there.” Keith jogged down the hall to the door and pulled it open to reveal Elliot and Carlos, both in T-shirts and jeans. Naturally, Elliot wore a nuclear-reactor-yellow shirt.

  “Hey.” Keith backed up so they could walk in.

  Elliot gave him a welcoming whack on the shoulder and stepped out of his unlaced high-tops. “’Sup.”

  “Yo.” Carlos kicked his shoes off.

  “You guys want tea? Ash is here already, but he brought Tira.”

  Elliot tilted his head. “Got stuck babysitting?”

  “Nah, she wants to play.” Keith led the way to the kitchen.

  “Dude, she’s like little,” said Elliot from behind.

  “And you’re unlittle,” chimed Tira. “Very unlittle.”

  Ashur snickered.

  Elliot patted his large belly with both hands. “Lot more of me to love.”

  Carlos hugged him while fluttering his eyelashes and muttering sweetly in Spanish.

  “Dude.” Elliot shoved him off.

  Everyone chuckled.

  “Why not?” Carlos gestured at her. “Every group needs a mascot.”

  She stuck out her tongue. “I read a bit about the game on the computer. It looks fun.”

  Ashur lifted his sister’s hair off her back and mimed turning a windup key. “We’ve upgraded her to Brainiac 2.0. She should be able to keep up.”

  “Butt.” Tira whirled around and thumped him in the side, making him chuckle.

  “Dude, but she’s like nine.” Elliot grabbed the biggest plastic cup in the cabinet and drained the pitcher of tea.

  Ugh. Keith leaned left into the living room on the way to the stairs. “Mom, tea’s empty.”

  “You should get one of those giant things with the tap like my mom’s got,” said Elliot, tromping up the stairs behind him. “Holds like five gallons.”

  “So like two cups for you?” asked Carlos.

  “That would require brewing five gallons at once. Mom makes actual tea. It’s not powder.” Keith hip-bumped open his bedroom door and flopped in the metal folding chair closest to his computer desk.

  The boys wandered in. Ashur plucked his sister out of a chair and tossed her on the bed before sitting in it.

  “Hey!” She ran back to him. “Not fair. I had it first.”

  Elliot gave Keith a ‘this is what we’re going to deal with all damn day’ stare.

  “I’ll get another one. Hang on. Start checking the Player’s Compendium and pick what you wanna do for a character, like class and race and stuff.”

  “Huh?” asked Elliot.

  “You got his email, right?” asked Carlos.

  Elliot shrugged.

  “He can’t open email because his fingers are too fat,” said Tira, still tugging on her brother’s arm.

  “Be nice,” muttered Ashur.

  Keith handed Elliot the Player’s book. “Class is like your character’s job. You played Diablo, right?”

  “Of course.” Elliot scoffed. “Who do you think you’re talking to?”

  “Right, this is kinda like that. Class is like fighter or necromancer and such. Race is human, elf, dwarf.”

  “Yeah, yeah. I’m not an idiot.” Elliot set the tea down and swiped the book.

  Keith handed out some summaries of classes and races he found on the Internet, since he only had one Player’s Compendium. “Here’s a cheat sheet. Be right back.” He ran off to the garage to fetch another chair.

  When he returned, everyone except Tira appeared engrossed in reading. She remained standing by Ashur’s side, and smiled at Keith when he walked in. He opened the chair and set it down near her before returning to his seat.

  Tira sat and grabbed one of the cheat sheet packets, but only gave it a light skim before putting it down.

  “Picked something already?” asked Keith, blinking.

  Elliot made a pff noise.

  “Yep.” Tira nodded. “I’m gonna be a rogue.”

  “What race?” asked Keith.

  “Half-elf. They’re the best balanced and don’t have any weaknesses. Their bonuses aren’t as high as other races, but they don’t have any real drawbacks.”

  Carlos and Ashur looked up from their packets to stare at her.

  “Okay, as soon as everyone’s got an idea, you can all roll stats at the same time.” Keith fished out the pink dice bag, which made Tira giggle.

  “You and Carlos should date,” said Elliot.

  Keith poked him in the side. “You do realize that he’s only messing with you for being insecure about your manliness. Carlos doesn’t like guys. Besides, there’s nothing wrong with pink.”

  Elliot chuckled, shaking his head. “So serious.”

  While the others read (and Tira gazed into space) Keith printed blank character sheets and handed those out.

  “Which stat pattern are we gonna use?” asked Tira.

  “Uhh, I was thinking 4d6 drop,” said Keith. “Since it’s the first game, might as well make heroes.”

  “Cool!” Tira bounced.

  Ashur mumbled something to her.

  “The whole player’s book’s on the Internet. I got the PDF.” She pointed at the character sheet. “You roll four six sided dice and ignore the lowest one.”

  “The game uses ten stats. Strength, Agility, and so on. Roll ten times, and put the numbers wherever you want.” Keith set up the GM screen, which took up so much space it made the table feel tiny. A crapton of charts and lookup tables covered the inside panels. Cool. That’ll save time. A glint of metallic lavender at the bottom left corner, a smudge of nail polish, reminded him it used to belong to a girl who probably died.

  Taken by a sudden, strong sadness for her, he slouched and nudged a d20 back and forth.

  “Okay,” said Elliot. “I’m gonna do a Chanter. I like the, uhh, Genndi for race.”

  “You gonna sing the goblins to death?” asked Carlos, chuckling.

  Elliot threw a d8 at him. “No, man. Chanter’s like the most important character. When your barbarian gets smashed, I’m gonna put his butt back on.”


  “Chanter’s the healer,” said Keith. “Cool. Genndi are tough and strong. Interesting choice.”

  “They’re tougher than they are strong, more defensive. Healer isn’t good to anyone if he’s dead.” Elliot leaned forward and filled in ‘Chanter’ and ‘Genndi’ on his character sheet. “I’m gonna name him Asclepius.”

  Everyone except Tira (and Elliot) burst out into laughter.

  Elliot scrunched up his eyebrows. “What? It’s the Greek god of medicine.”

  “Okay Ass-Clampius,” said Carlos.

  “Go to hell.” Elliot gave him the bird. “Fine. Uhh…”

  “Don’t use a name that’s easy to make fun of,” said Ashur. “You know Carlos.”

  Carlos grinned.

  “I’ma do a warrior I think.” Ashur pointed at the cheat sheet packet. “Norn for race.”

  “They’re basically humans, but bigger and stronger,” said Keith. “Like Vikings.”

  “Not gonna make a Saldiri?” Elliot raised both eyebrows. “They look pretty badass.”

  “Dude.” Keith sighed.

  Elliot blanched. “Oh, crap. I didn’t mean it like that.”

  Ashur glanced back and forth between them, clearly clueless.

  “The Saldiri are nomadic desert-dwelling elves,” said Keith.

  “Oh.” Ashur rolled his eyes.

  Elliot cringed in on himself. “Sorry, I didn’t even mean that like a racial thing. You always take the fast warriors in the fighting games.”

  “It’s cool.” Ashur held up a fist bump, which Elliot obliged.

  “They seem a little overpowered.” Carlos blinked at the paper. “No strength bonus though.”

  Tira, who’d been stacking dice for the past few minutes, looked up. “They’re more for rogues and archers. I thought about it, but I didn’t like how they act.” Faced with a bunch of questioning, blank faces, she continued. “They’re arrogant, like all the other races are beneath them.”

  Keith still had a couple of bruises to explain why that bothered her. Never mind the Saldiri lived in the desert and had brown skin, the book did kinda make them sound like a bunch of jerks. Then again, all the elves in the setting looked down on other races. “It’s not them specifically. All the elves are like that. They think ’cause they live for like eight thousand years the other races are weak.”