by Robert Bevan
“What?”
“I want to talk to one of them.”
“Who?”
“One of the big black men.”
“Menhir?”
“Yeah, sure. Here, there, wherever they are.”
“Um... okay.”
“Good day to you, sir!” said Julian. “I am Melvin the White, no offense, son of Zorbin the Great! My friends and I have traveled far and-”
Mordred interrupted him. “The guard at the gate asks you why you're talking to an inanimate object.”
“What a racist prick!” said Julian. “I’ll shoot an arrow at him.”
“You don’t have a bow.”
“Can I hit him with my quarterstaff?”
“No,” said Mordred. “He’s fifty feet away.”
“You’re a wizard, dipshit,” said Cooper. “Why don’t you use some magic?”
“Oh right,” said Julian. “I’ll use magic on him.”
“What spell would you like to cast?”
“I don’t know. Lightning bolts or some shit.”
“Lightning Bolt is a third level spell. Right now, the best you can do is Magic Missile.”
“Awesome. I’ll use that.”
“Did you memorize it?”
“I have to memorize shit?”
“Julian,” said Tim. “You have to memorize what spells you want each morning. Well played Mordred. Can we move on?”
“Move on?” asked Julian. “Are you guys really cool with the way they treat big black men in this town?”
“Menhir,” corrected Mordred.
“Okay fine,” said Julian. “The way they treat big black men, here in this town. Are you happy?”
“Oh for fuck's sake,” Cooper shouted. “M-E-N-H-I-R. It's a fucking pillar of stone or something.”
“Oh,” said Julian. “Well excuse me. I guess I haven't run into as many menhir as you guys have.”
“Your mom has run into a lot of men here,” said Cooper. “The big black ones were always her favorite.”
“Julian, mark down another hundred experience points.”
“What the fuck for?” asked Cooper.
“For attempting to stay in character and role-playing. He put some thought into his back story.”
Julian marked down another hundred points on his character sheet and grinned at Cooper.
“The guard approaches and shouts 'Halt!'.”
“Good day, sir,” said Tim in response.
“Where do you think you're bringing that beast?” Mordred pointed to Cooper.
“Who are you calling a beast, motherfu-”
“This is our friend,” Dave jumped in. “He means you or this town no harm. We have traveled far, and we seek-”
“Why you should choose to associate with the likes of him, I care not. No orc shall set foot in Algor. 'Tis the law of the land.”
“I told you this guy was racist,” said Julian.
“He's only half-orc,” said Tim. “His mother was human.”
“So I should grant him passage because his mother was an orc-fucking whore? Perhaps I should bow down at his feet as well. All hail he whose mother spreads her legs for-”
“Fuck this,” said Cooper. “I kill him.”
“Really?” asked Mordred.
“Hells yeah,” said Cooper, picking up a twenty-sided die. “I chop the fucker's head off.” He rolled the die. “19.”
Mordred shrugged. “Okay, you swing your great axe around your head and its blade meets his neck just above the shoulder. It's a clean slice and the head tumbles to the ground.”
“Sweet. I put it in my bag.”
“If you like.”
“Do I get any experience points?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“This guard offered no challenge. He was just a piece of scenery. He only had two hit points.”
“What about role-playing and staying in character?”
“You call that role-playing?”
“I'm a fucking barbarian, and he called my mother an orc-fucking whore. Would it have been more in character for me to challenge his views through rational discourse?”
“Fine. Take fifty points.”
“Your mom took fifty points,” he muttered, but wrote down the fifty points without arguing for any more.
Mordred spoke suddenly, calling all attention his way. “People are screaming. It's not long before you hear a bell ringing and guards shouting from within the gates.”
“Shit, Cooper,” said Dave. “We're going to get our asses kicked.”
“Fuck you, Dave. My mother's honor was at stake.”
Tim addressed Mordred directly. “You said there’s a lot of traffic heading in and out of the city, right?”
“A fair amount, yes.”
He turned to the group. “Let's hijack a cart or something and get the fuck out of here.”
“Sounds good to me,” said Dave.
“A good plan right about now,” said Mordred. “Give yourself a hundred experience points.”
“I'll find a cart headed away from the city,” said Cooper. “If I have time to be picky, I'll choose one with a couple of healthy horses attached to it.”
“You find an appropriate vehicle. A covered wagon with two horses you judge to be in good condition.”
“I'll brandish my axe at the driver and order him to get out.”
Mordred rolled some dice from behind the cover of his screen. “He does as you say.”
“Quick. Everybody in the wagon.”
“Okay,” said Tim. “We're all in the wagon. Let's go!”
Mordred smiled. “Does anyone have any ranks in the Handle Animal skill?”
Everyone looked at their character sheets, and then at each other.
“I have diplomacy,” said Julian.
“You can make an untrained check with your high charisma score.”
“Um... Go horses!”
“Roll a die.”
“Is six enough?”
“No. The horses don't move. You can see a cloud of dust rising above the palisade as the sound of hoof-beats thunders increasingly toward you.”
“I'll grab Julian's quarterstaff,” said Cooper, “and poke one of the horses in the ass with it.”
“The horses bolt forward, out of control. Make a Dexterity check.”
Tim, Dave, and Cooper grabbed a twenty-sided die, and Julian quickly followed suit.
“Four,” said Cooper.
“Twelve,” said Dave.
“Six,” said Tim.
“Ha!” shouted Julian. “Twenty!” His look of triumph was met with looks of concern from the rest of the players. “What?”
“You want to roll low for ability checks,” Tim explained.
“Shit,” said Julian.
Mordred spoke. “You lose your balance and start to fall off the wagon.”
“I made my check by a lot,” said Cooper. “Can I try to catch him?”
Mordred considered it. “Okay. Make another check and you can catch him.”
Cooper rolled the die again. “Fourteen! I made it.”
“Fair enough. Mark down a hundred experience points. That's fifty for getting the horses moving, and fifty for saving your comrade.”
“So are we heading back the way we came from?” asked Dave. “What's back that way?”
“You head down the road for another five hundred yards or so, but the road curves and the horses continue to go straight. You can see a group of five horses following you. Unlike your horses, they are unencumbered by anything but their riders, and they are gaining on you quickly.”
“What are the riders wearing?” asked Tim.
“They are dressed in chainmail armor and armed with crossbows and longswords.”
“What's ahead of us?” asked Dave.
“The edge of the forest. The horses won't be able to maneuver through the trees with the cart. You estimate that your cart will reach the trees at roughly the same time as the town guar
ds catch up to you.”
“Fuck,” offered Cooper. “Who wants a cigarette?”
“What?” asked Mordred.
“Yeah,” said Dave. “That sounds about right.”
“I'm in,” said Julian.
“I'll run to the shop and get some more beer,” said Tim.
“But we're about to have an encounter,” objected Mordred. “You're interrupting the flow of gameplay!”
Cooper lit a cigarette as he stepped out the front door. “Why don't you interrupt the flow of blood from your vagina for a minute and relax?”
Tim started walking to the corner shop near the Chicken Hut. It was run by an elderly couple, and Tim suspected that their Friday night gaming sessions might be responsible for keeping them in business.
Cooper shouted after him. “Pick up some tampons for Mordred while you're out! Velvety purple ones!”
Tim returned a couple of minutes later, a case of beer in each hand, to find Dave and Julian laughing. He peeked in through the door at Mordred. He sat alone with his elbows on the table, the little tufts of hair on either side of his head sticking out between his chubby fingers. “You guys mind taking these inside?”
Dave and Julian each grabbed a case and walked inside. Cooper started to follow, but Tim stopped him.
“You got a cigarette?”
“Sure.” Cooper lit Tim’s cigarette, along with a second one for himself.
Tim exhaled a long column of smoke. It hung in the humid air. “What did I miss?”
“Not much.”
“He looks pissed.”
“Who?”
“Mordred, dickface. Who do you think?”
“Oh yeah,” Cooper said, smiling. “He'll get over it.”
“Get over what? What did you assholes do to him?”
“We were just fucking with him. He's a big boy. He can take it.”
“Dude, I don't know if he's ever had...” he paused, trying to find a better word, because the one that he wanted to say was too depressing. He failed to come up with anything better. “...friends before. He might not realize you're just fucking with him.”
“Oh come on, man. You know-”
“Yeah, I know,” said Tim. “Just take it down a notch, okay?”
“All right.”
When everyone had gotten a fresh beer, they all sat back down at their table.
“Are you all ready to play now?” asked Mordred. His nostrils were flared and contempt resonated in his voice. He gripped his black dice bag tightly in one hand.
“Yeah, go ahead,” said Cooper. He and Tim sat solemnly. Julian and Dave sat still, holding in giggles. They looked like two first-graders who had to go to the bathroom.
Mordred waited a few more seconds, and then continued when he was sure he had everyone's attention. “The soldiers surround your wagon on all sides. One shouts 'We have you surrounded! Surrender your weapons and exit the vehicle!'”
“Okay,” said Tim to the other players. “What should we do?”
“They're just guards,” said Cooper. “I've already taken down one's head off with one swipe.”
“You got lucky with that roll. Anyway, these guys might be tougher.”
“I don't see a bright future if we surrender,” said Julian.
“Your time is running out!” shouted Mordred in the voice he had used for the soldier.
“Keep your pants on!” said Cooper. It was unclear as to whether he was saying this to Mordred or the soldier.
Mordred made that distinction for him. “My pantaloons are none of your concern! I insist that you lay down your arms, and-”
“Why don't I lay down your mom?”
Mordred began rolling dice behind the cover of his screen.
Dave spoke up. “If we can all stay alive for the first round, I should be able to get an attack in before I have to start healing-”
Mordred interrupted, speaking in his own voice. “Cooper, you are hit with a crossbow bolt in the shoulder. The canvass roof of the wagon absorbed some of the impact, but you still lose two hit points.”
“Hey,” said Cooper. “What the fuck was that for?”
“That was a warning shot!” Mordred was speaking in the voice of the soldier again.
“Your warning shot hit me in the fucking shoulder, shithead!”
“You have ten seconds to comply!”
“Your mom has ten seconds to-”
“Ten!”
“Dude, come on,” said Cooper, clearly to Mordred, trying to sound reasonable. “We're trying to work out a-”
“Nine!”
“Shit,” said Julian. “Cooper and I will jump out first and take care of the guard behind the-”
“Eight!”
“Would it be possible,” Tim addressed Mordred, “for me to see one of them out the front of the wagon without being seen myself? I'd like to use my Sneak Attack.”
“Do you want to do that right now?” Mordred asked in his normal voice.
“No,” said Tim. “I just want to get into position.”
“Roll for it.”
Tim rolled a die. “Sixteen.”
“You see one soldier, and you don't think he can see you. You can get your Sneak Attack in, but you'll take a penalty because you don't have a lot of room to maneuver inside the wagon.”
“Fair enough.”
“Seven!”
“Mordred,” said Cooper. “Dude. Relax. We need some time to get ready.”
“Six!” shouted Mordred, and then spoke in his own voice. “You have six seconds to get ready. It's unlikely that the soldiers outside would give you time to formulate a plan to murder them.”
“It's a fucking game, dude. That's not how we play.”
“It's how you play when I'm the Cavern Master.”
“Really?” said Cooper. “This is your big show of power? We tease you about your cape a little, and now you're going to pepper our characters with crossbows?”
Mordred gave a hollow, snorting laugh. “I assure you, I don't let my personal opinions of players interfere with gameplay. If that were the case, you would have all been eaten by dragons in the beginning.”
“See,” said Cooper. “That's what I'm talking about. What the fuck have you got against us? We invited you over here, and you waltz in with your faggy little cape and tell us where to move tables and shit, and you-”
“You have insulted me and berated me since I walked through the door. You're a bunch of drunken hooligans.”
Julian laughed, and everyone turned to face him. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I just think the word hooligans is funny.”
“Tim,” said Mordred. “I think I would like another Coke, please.”
Tim stared back at him in disbelief. “Sure.” He got up and walked to the refrigerator. He returned with a Coke for Mordred, and a harsh glare for Cooper. “Don't mind him,” he said to Mordred. “That's the way he is. He talks to all of us like that.”
“Sir Wankalot doesn't need any help from you,” said Cooper. “He's a big boy. If he's got something to say-”
“Shut up, Coop,” said Tim. “We're supposed to be playing a game.”
“Shall we continue?” asked Mordred.
“Shall we continue?” Cooper mocked him in a nasally voice.
Cooper and Mordred stared at each other.
Tim finally broke the silence. “Coop?”
Cooper looked at Tim, who cocked his head toward Mordred and raised his eyebrows expectantly.
“What, seriously?”
Tim's look of expectation turned to one of exasperated pleading.
“For fuck's sake,” said Cooper. “I'm sorry, okay?”
Mordred closed his eyes and offered back a wide, smug grin. “Your apology is accepted.”
Julian and Dave exhaled.
“Bite my big black menhir,” said Cooper.
Julian and Dave looked at Tim, and the three of them broke into laughter.
Mordred offered an insincere chuckle. His hand was closed in
a tight fist around the black bag on the table in front of him.
When the laughter had died down, Tim tried to get the game rolling again. “Okay, so I'm up front getting ready to make a sneak attack. Do the rest of you know what you're doing?”
Dave said “Julian and Cooper are going to jump out the back, and-”
“Not so fast, boys,” said Mordred. Everyone stopped talking. Cooper rolled his eyes but said nothing.
“As a sign of goodwill, I've decided to let you roll my special dice.” He opened the bag and turned it upside down. Six black, twenty-sided dice clattered to the table. “I'd ask that you be very careful with these, and not roll them until I tell you to.” He passed one die to each player.
Tim rolled the die around in his palm. The edges were sharper than the edges of his old, worn-out plastic dice, like it was made of glass. He held it up to the fluorescent light. Either his eye deceived him, or the darkness swirled around inside the die like a storm trapped in a prism. At the center of the storm shone a tiny, barely perceptible red light. It was like looking across a completely dark room at the last ember left glowing in a fire that had otherwise long burnt out. Concentration made the light grow in intensity, but not in size.
“Where did you get these?” Dave’s question sounded as though it had been filtered through water.
“They were a gift,” said Mordred, cracking open his Coke.
The sound brought Tim out of his trance.
“Okay, everyone roll at the same time. Ready-”
“Wait,” said Tim. “Aren't we still in the wagon? What are we rolling for?”
Mordred hesitated, thought, and then said, “It's a saving throw versus magic.”
Tim shrugged. “Okay.”
“Ready?”
Everyone nodded. Cooper's nod was paired with some eye rolling and a 'let's hurry this shit along' twirling gesture with his hand.
“Ready... steady... roll!”
They released their dice simultaneously. Tim, Dave, and Cooper's dice all rolled on the table at the same time. Julian’s die rolled off the side of the table. While his die was busy bouncing off of a chair and on to the floor, the other three dice all came to an abrupt stop on the number 1.
“Wow,” said Cooper. “What are the odds of-”
The world went dark.
Chapter 3
Spears of light pierced through Tim’s eyes and straight into his brain. He raised his arms to block the light and shut his eyes as tightly as he could.