MB Short Story: Welcome To Game Night (Patreon)

Gray leaned across the dining room table. His dark gold hair stuck out at various sideways angles, strands reaching towards the sky after their recent liberation from the ballcap that rested on the table surface near his elbow, right besides a half-eaten calzone and a set of customized blue dice that matched his eyes (a stocking stuffer from Nick from yesterday’s Christmas). It was his first time being invited to the Wiseman Game Night, as well as his first time ever playing Dungeons and Dragons.

An hour in, and he was already feeling out of his comfort zone.

“Did you really need to murder that . . .” Blast. He glanced down at the reference sheet that reference sheet Nick had printed out for him, and took another bite of his calzone while scanning it over.

“Did you really need to murder that kobold?” he asked Sally, who was seated across him and next to Ellery, Nick’s younger sibling who'd for some reason taken to glaring at him whenever he ate. “The little guy had given us the map. There was no need to—"

“This is why we don’t usually let Sally play Chaotic Neutral,” Ellery interrupted. “Let alone a Chaotic Neutral barbarian.”

Sally smirked, unrepentant over the dragonoid her character had overzealously bludgeoned to death. “I get to play Chaotic Neutral every third campaign,” she said, “as a treat.”

Gray had expected his life to change upon moving to The USA, but playing board games with murderous high school students hadn’t made the list. He took a sip of his Arizona Iced Tea (amazing stuff, that) and looked at Nick.

“‘As a treat’?” he echoed.

Nick shrugged. “At least Cherry—”

“Avonlea Cherrycobble,” Sally corrected. “Halfling barbarian, at your service, named after Anne of Green Gable’s hometown . . . and pie.”

“Nick’s cobbler from last summer?” Ellery asked with another inexplicably glare in Gray’s direction. “Yeah, that was delicious.”

Nick rolled his eyes. “Fine. Avonlea Cherrycobble is at least better than Salome’s last chaotic character.”

“Coco Glitterspark,” Ellery groaned. “Gnome warlock who murdered our entire party after Nick’s ranger made a wisecrack about her height.”

“Fun times,” Nick told Gray. “But back to the kobold. You’re a lawful paladin—you should be smiting evil, not protesting its murder.”

“The crab—” Gray checked his reference sheet once more. “The kobold didn’t seem all that evil.”

“He stole your sword,” Nick said, “and tried to backstab you with it.”

Ellery cleared their throat and, to Gray’s relief, redirected their glare from him to Nick. “Something you want to get off your chest about rogues, Dungeon Master?”

Nick fumbled the dice he’d been idly palming, dropping them on the table. “Of course not!” he insisted. “I love your rouge! Zipper rules!”

“Damn straight, ‘Zipper rules,’” Ellery said. “Zipper is the only party member that knows how to disarm traps. Without me, you’d all be dead.”

Sally’s fist slammed on the table with surprising force from someone so small. Gray looked at her with wary respect—first she killed the kobold in cold blood, and now she’d successfully stunned both Wiseman siblings into silence.

“The game, please,” she reminded them both.

Nick’s lips curved in a devious smile which didn’t bode well for the next leg of the their campaign; it was the same smile that Gray had seen him give to opponents that underestimated UCRT’s new leader.

“You enter the inn,” Nick said. “A fire blazes in a brick hearth, above which hangs the stuffed head of a majestic elk. The warmth thaws your frozen noses and cramped fingers. Yet despite the inn’s cozy atmosphere, you realize that there are no other patrons, and all is quiet except the hearth’s crackling logs. The only person inside is a middle-aged human, his cheeks flushed, his head bald, and his shoulders as broad as a dwarf’s.”

“Another innkeeper NPC?” Sally groaned.

“It’s clearly wish fulfillment, Nick,” Ellery added.

Gray took another bite of his calzone. Ellery immediately glared at him, and he set it down. What was it with them and food?

Nick lowered his voice, puffing out his chest to presumably mimic the innkeeper’s stout frame. “Welcome, weary travelers!”

“It’s gonna be called the Elk’s Head,” Sally whispered to Ellery. “Just wait.”

“Welcome to the Elk’s Head!” Nick continued. “My name is Dudley, and I’m the humble proprietor.”

The table shook slightly as Sally and Ellery fist bumped under the table over Sally’s correct guess.

“I throw my axe at the stuffed elk’s head on the mantle,” Sally said immediately.

Nick sighed. “You don’t want to talk to Dudley? After two long days of marching through the tundra? He makes amazing deserts, and you guys must be hungry.”

“Axe to elk,” Sally repeated. She rolls her dice, letting out a whoot of glee at the high-numbered result.

“Cherry throws her axe. The blade whirls through the air,” Nick said, “and imbeds itself into the black nose of the stuffed elk head. Dudley, however, only arches a single bushy brow.”

“Now the inn needs a new name,” Ellery said. “Zipper suggests that it be called ‘The Axe-Scent.’” They and Sally fist bumped again.

“Your puns are horrible,” Nick informed his sibling. “Worse than mine, even. Roll for persuasion.”

Gray took another bite of his calzone while Ellery was distracted.

“Er, should I ask the innkeeper if we can spend the night?” he asked hesitantly once the inn had a new name.

Nick beamed at him. “Yes! Yes, you should! Thank you, Gray, for actually attempting to follow the storyline and not being a murderhobo.”

“You’re welcome?” Gray said. "What's a murderhobo?"

His question went unanswered.

“Dudley smiles at Sir Darkwhite warmly,” Nick said, and Gray once again winced upon hearing his character’s name. This would be the last time he let Nick design the character he played.

Nick continues, “‘Greetings, oh noble paladin,’ Dudley says with smile. ‘Beds we have aplenty, but I might I first interest you in a . . .’” Nick (Dudley?) pauses for dramatic effect. “. . . Plate of freshly baked cookies?”

“Not funny, Nick!” Ellery looked genuinely upset, and they were glaring at Gray again. Why were they always glaring at him? “Too bad Zipper is already stealing all of Dudley’s cookies,” Ellery added. “The cookies are mine, Sir Darkwhite.”

“Roll for sleight of hand,” Nick said.

Ellery complied. “My cookies.”

Gray could only watch on in confusion as Ellery (Zipper?) succeeded in stealing the cookies, only to discover they were poisoned after taking a bite.

“Dudley’s once-friendly face transforms,” Nick cackled as Ellery pretended to choke. “This is no kindly innkeeper, but a lich! The illusion of plump cheeks melts away, replaced by an ivory skull and a lipless smile. ‘Well, now, adventurers,’ the lich says, ‘it’s time to—‘”

“Nicholas, we’re level two,” Sally prtoested. “There’s no way we’re winning against a Lich. Also, Darkwhite! Get it together. Zipper is choking. Why haven’t you laid your hands on them yet?”

Gray blinked. “What?”

“Lay your hands on Zipper,” Sally ground out. “Cherry—er, Avonlea attacks the Lich.”

“What the hell, Salome?” Nick exploded. “You just said that you guys are only level two. At least let Deadly Dudley finish his evil monologue before trying to rage-shank him.”

“I attack the Lich,” Sally repeated firmly.

Gray raised his hand. The other three looked at him, Ellery pausing mid-dramatic death gasp.

“This isn’t an Aeon lecture, Grayson,” Nick said, sounding amused.

“Sorry.” Gray put down his hand. “I was just wondering—about Avonlea attacking the undead innkeeper?” Despite his previous nerves, he couldn’t help but smirk. Sally, Nick, and Ellery were so caught up in the game that they hadn’t remembered one very important detail.

“What about it?” Sally asked. “You have a problem with me attacking an undead monster, paladin? This should kind of be your job, after all.”

“Not problem,” Gray said. “Except your axe is still stuck in a taxidermized deer, which about two feet higher than you can reach.”

Ellery gasped, this time for real. “He didn’t.”

Sally crossed her arms. “He did.”

“A height joke?” Nick let out a hoot of laughter. “Damn, Black. I can’t believe you went there. Especially after we told you about Coco.”

Gray felt the blood in his cheeks drain beneath Ellery and Sally’s dual glares. Nick’s continued laughter wasn't particularly reassuring, either. “I just meant . . . because she’s a halfling? Aren’t they short?” He looked down at his sheet again. “I’m pretty sure that halflings were short.”

“Hey, Lich Innkeeper,” Sally said. “Sorry for almost attacking you. Can I stay alive if we sacrifice the paladin? Darkwhite will be an excellent undead minion for you.”

Ellery’s hands reached for their own throat, and they resumed making choking sounds.

“Spare the Tiefling, too,” Sally said. “Zipper can disarm traps for whatever errand you’re about to send us on.”

“Bargain, accepted!” Nick boomed in the lich/innkeeper's voice. He turned to Gray with an apologetic shrug. “Sorry, man. Welcome to Game Night.”