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Sèje Khai and the Cursed Roll
I’m left handed, but I force myself to use my right hand when possible. It’s a matter of necessity, really. As I grew I found that the world vastly favours the right-handed; therefore, I did my best while growing up to get used to using my non-dominant hand for nearly everything, while finding other uses for my dominant hand.
One shouldn’t take this as a sign of weakness, or a lack of self-esteem. I like to be true to myself as much as everyone, but I also like not getting stabbed. And when practically every hit of the enemy’s weapon comes from my left, it pays off to be able to dexterously use my shield with my left hand.
That is not to say that there aren’t times when going down in one fell swoop wouldn’t be a preferable option, and as I took the full force of an ancient iron forged warhammer with my shield for the second time, it would be a lie to say there wasn’t a part of me that wished to just let go of the shield and let everything end.
My left arm, thankfully, didn’t seem to share that same opinion, and refused to let go, even as the impact of Thurloth, the Lich King’s warhammer sent me to the ground. Both of my legs had heard what my left arm had to say and quickly steadied the rest of my body. My knees seemed to be rebellious, however, and hindered my efforts to stand up again. I made a mental note to have a serious talk with whichever parts of my body made it out of the underground temple.
“You’ve seen so many fall at my hands,” spoke Thurloth from within the deepest recesses of his hollow armour, “and yet you still find it in yourself to muster up the courage to face me. Were we under different circumstances, I would almost be impressed.”
I would have preferred to cut him out mid-sentence with a witty retort, but politeness demanded that I should let him speak. After all, what is of a Paladin if they do not adhere to a strict moral code and the highest of conduct? That several other parts of my body had joined the shaking faction instigated by my insurgent knees was of little relevance at the moment.
Nevertheless, my years of dealing with Rogues, Thieves, and other lowly scum had made me well-versed in the art of deception and misdirection. Besides, having served as a knight to the highest court of King Chardan, the rightful ruler of the lands graced by the sun, had instructed me in the subtlest schools of diplomacy. All of these allowed me to convince Thurloth, the Lich King that I was genuinely quaking in fear in front of him.
Or at least, that’s how I would tell the story should I get back to the surface alive.
When you get back, Séje. When you get back.
Regardless of the semantics, my charade worked well enough to keep the undead monarch distracted for long enough to gather my bearings and ready an attack. I knew time was of essence, and every second wasted could mean Thurloth got closer to noticing my feint. You could only pretend to be a scared and helpless damsel out of her depth for so long when you’re also one of the land’s most famous knights. Thankfully, the Lich King didn’t seem to be all that good with faces, if his lack of one was any indication.
Knowing that the time for action had arrived, I quickly stopped my carefully planned and dignified sniveling and with just as much precision and dexterity, I lunged forward, hoping that whatever momentum I could gather in that short distance would make up for the lack of strength behind it.
I wished I had spent more time with the monks. Maybe then I could have learned a bit more about physics than the big nothing I knew.
With as much effort as one would normally put in waving away a particularly annoying mosquito, Thurloth raised his lumbering left vambrace to block the strike of my sword, and I found that the recoil of my sword hitting the dense, magically enhanced metal didn’t hurt as much as the knowledge that his left-arm defense was so much better than mine.
This time, the seditious murmuring of my knees had managed to sway the rest of my body, and I flopped unceremoniously onto the ground. There is no respect for authority anymore.
Had the helmet of the Lich King held more than an unforgiving void, I’m certain he would have regarded me with a mix of disdain and amusement. Seeing how he lacked eyes, however, I had no way of knowing what emotion he held as he walked towards me.
It appeared the insurrection of my limbs had spread to my emotions as well, for I could feel an inkling of fear course down my body. I may need to see a healer after this whole ordeal is over. Or a diplomat.
But for a lack of consensus amidst the parts of my body, friendship amongst our group was the best substitute one could ask for.
Friendship, or as the wizard currently casting a protective shield between Thurloth and myself would put it, “strategic acquaintanceship”. I presume “strategic” rationalisations come with an extended lexicon.
“Take no further step, abomination! Thou shan’t lay a finger upon Lady Khai,” the wizard said with his odd mix of archaic and modern dialect.
The wizard--Timaeus by name--was an odd sort of fellow, as most wizards won’t be. Odd, yes, but also a remarkable companion and an incredibly versatile one, at that.
He was the last surviving member of an all but extinct school of arcane arts. State at which they had arrived thanks in no small part to the contributions of Thurloth himself, so it was in Timaeus’s interest to return the Lich King to his eternal slumber and bring assuagement to the memories of his acquaintances.
The fame and prestige that would come from becoming the sole survivor and avenger of his brethren would be entirely fortuitous, he had assured me.
Back at the present, I found myself surrounded by a dome of shimmering light that while managed to be a temporary protection from the Lich King, also prevented me from strategically relocating away from him. Had I been in a different state of mind, I would have made a poetic simile between my situation and King Ardan’s safety measures against goblin infestations, but I was just too glad about not dying to focus on such matters.
Thurlorth remained unimpressed, pausing for the briefest of moments to spare Timaeus a sidelong glance and an unamused huff. Thankfully, this small window of time was all that our archer needed.
A quick volley of arrows hit the armour of the undead tyrant in its joints and open spots, as few as there were. Not a second had passed since they hit their target before the runes inscribed in them glowed with a bright purple light, and blew up in small blasts of arcane energy.
“Take that, you fascist autocrat!” Lyen yelled from the shadows--since remaining undetected was a less vital priority than yelling inappropriate and possibly redundant remarks--as he saw the false king stumble backwards, and I could just imagine him thrusting his fist into the air in early celebration.
Lyen was, due to a lack of a better term, wholly unremarkable in nearly all conceivable aspects save for his marksmanship.
This, of course, was in no way a jab at him. Far from the truth. He’s a friend as loyal as one could ask and one of the best archers to grace this land. However, his unexceptionality was a joint verdict at which both Timaeus and myself had arrived after well over a year of having journeyed alongside him, so spending more words on him would be a disservice to all those involved.
“Hey!” Lyen yelled at me. For a second I feared that the proximity of death had made me break my oath of silence, and he had heard my unkind yet entirely accurate remarks about him. However, my fears--or at least those pertaining to a social faux pas and breaking my oath of servitude to my God--were soon assuaged when the archer spoke again. “He’s coming back for you, Sèje!”
My eyes widened in surprise as I saw the black shape of Thurloth reeling back and bringing down his warhammer upon the shimmering barrier.
When thinking of millennia-old armour made out of a secret magical alloy, the composition of which was lost to time due to the tribe of dwarves who made it being
slaughtered as to preserve the secret, and enchanted with dark magic found only in ancient tomes written in lost languages, one could be forgiven for not thinking of the word “speed”. I was one of them, and yet I stood corrected. Or laid, I guess.
Thurloth brought down his mighty warhammer over and over again, making the barrier bulge and bend under its force.
An odd, distant voice made an off-hand comment about getting mercilessly pounded by the King, but I made an effort to ignore it.
Amidst the barrage of hits, it came to my attention that every impact of the hammer felt less powerful than the ones who I had received earlier. Granted, the difference was akin to being attacked by a bear or being attacked by a pack of wolves, but the King seemed to be dishing out softer blows in exchange for speed.
Before I could do anything with this new information, however, the magic barrier was forced beyond the point where it could bend and it shattered into countless fragments that dissolved into the air. Keeping the shield up must have been a strain on Timaeus, and having it dispelled so forcefully must have caused him some severe backlash, if his pained cry was anything to go by.
Not that I was faring much better. The shock of seeing my only defense be ripped away must have left me momentarily dazed, seeing how Thurloth was bringing down his hammer once again by the time I became aware of what happened, leaving me with just enough time to lift my shield and cover my chest.
With the benefit of hindsight, perhaps I should’ve just rolled to the side.
A loud crack resonated in the hall, but I couldn’t say for certain if it had been the floor beneath me, my armour, or some of my bones. I could still feel most of my body, so that meant at least my spine was fine.
Fate seemed to throw us a bone, for Thurloth, the Lich King started laughing a laughter so uproarious it made the room itself shake. Thankfully, his imprisonment in a hallowed obsidian jar within an antimagic circle buried deep within the highest mountains of the realm had happened well before the Age of Enlightenment, so he didn’t know about the dangers of monologuing.
I took several deep breaths to calm myself as the Lich King went on and on about his own greatness and the glory his ruling would bring to the land. As Thurloth was in the middle of explaining how his path to greatness had started when he killed his own father with a cursed sword of the ancient gods--or killed an ancient god with his father’s cursed sword, I can’t quite recall--I locked gazes with Timaeus.
He seemed just as worried as me, and while Lyen remained hidden in the shadows, I could bet he felt the same way, too. With a small nod, the wizard cast a quick healing spell. Subtle enough not to be noticed by the King, but strong enough so that I could stand up once again.
So lost was Thurloth in his recounting of his grandeur that he didn’t notice how I painfully stood up. Though I must admit I got a sardonic kick out of noticing my right knee was indeed broke, that’ll show them to rebel.
With nothing more than a few seconds before the surprise element was thoroughly snuffed, I went for my final shot at snuffing him first. If I managed to pierce his armour, then Timaeus may be able to hold it open for long enough so Lyen could use his remaining enchanted arrows to blast the King apart, leaving the wizard to seal him once again.
After a quick silent prayer to my God, I ran forward, putting just a little bit of pressure on my right leg and thrusted my sword forwards, carrying with it the strength of our fallen comrades, the faith of those who relied upon us to defeat the mad tyrant, the hope for the future generations. All these imbued my sacred sword with enough power to smite a soul as wicked and rotten as Thurloth’s…
...Only for him to turn around at the last second, causing me to barely graze his armour and fall face first onto the floor.
“What the actual hell!?” I yelled as I stared at the ‘five’ and ‘eight’ on the dice, and yet my indignant cries were drowned by the uproarious laughter around the table. At least Lionel and Charlie were making an effort to hide their snickering. Timothy and Sarah, on the other hand seemed to revel in their mirth.
“Hot damn, Jessica,” Sarah said once her laughter had died down to roughly the same level of my ability to restrain a suckerpunch, “the dice have not been on your side tonight.”
“You’re one to talk, Sarah. Excuse me if my memory is faulty, but weren’t you the first of the party to die by the Lich King’s hand?” I said while making an effort to keep my sarcasm at playful levels. For her part, our late Rogue simply shrugged.
“At least I went down fighting, not falling down while attempting to fight.”
The bitterness coursing through me made it so easy to come back with a scathing retort but before I could lay down a verbal beating upon the infidel, Charlie interjected in what I assume was an attempt at defusing my anger.
“Speaking of talking, Jessica. I assume your little outburst wasn’t meant to be in character, right?” he then tapped into his years of roleplaying experience to put on the mask of the affable King Chardan, “Say it is so, I couldn’t possibly imagine a Paladin as devout as the gracious Lady Sèje Khai breaking her oath of silence.”
If this really was his way of calming me down, then it was only working for the most part. I had to admit I was being ridiculous for losing my temper at something so inconsequential. Not as ridiculous as my absurdly low rolls I’ve been getting all night, of course, but ridiculous all the same.
With a weary sigh, I hung my head in shame and nodded.
“Kudos on the roleplaying, though,” Lionel offered.
I decided to ignore him. I knew it wasn’t his intention to sound condescending, but in my current mindset, it was hard to take it otherwise.
“We might as well take this moment to figure out what to do,” Tim said, kicking back and throwing his arms behind his head, “I know I’m probably down for the count, how long is the backlash from the shield going to leave me dazed?”
Charlie rustled the pages of his reference book as he hummed a tuneless melody, “Couple more turns, you really were putting a lot into that shield.”
“I still think our original plan is our best option,” Lionel said with a tentative edge in his voice. His inexperience showed in his lack of confidence. There was a reason he played his character close to his chest, and it wasn’t because he was the lone and mysterious kind. Then again, he’s the youngest of us, so maybe he thinks that’s cool.
“Good old ‘crack, tear, and blast’? Yeah, I think we should go for that,” Tim replied. As he glanced at his character sheet, probably in search of a spell of some sort that could be useful.
“I’d like to tear his crack with a blast,” Sarah muttered under her breath as she tried to hold back another set of giggles.
“Stop that, Sarah. You’re not funny and you never were,” Tim said, though I could notice the barest of twitches in the corner of his mouth.
“Alright people, I’m making an executive decision here,” Charlie said as he closed his book in a quick motion, “As things are right now, you guys are going to lose. Badly. So just for the sake of giving you a fighting chance, I’m going to let Jessica roll her attack again.”
There was a sting to his words, but I knew he was right. The accursed dice had not been kind on us, and if we were still alive it was only because the damage dice were as cursed as ours were.
“I still have an immediate action I can use,” Tim chimed in, and he sounded genuinely hopeful.
“Well, you can either aid Jess, or try to attack Thurloth. Just remember you can only use basic spells,” Charlie said in that dull monotone voice of his he only used when he entered his Dungeon Master zone.
“I can work with that,” Tim said as he happily rearranged his notes.
“Alright, then. Everyone ready?”
There was a moment where everyone simply stared at each other in silence before a slow harmony of mumbled assertions was heard. Our chances of coming out victorious from this fight were slim at best, and I knew deep down we all wished we had listen to the old prophecy in time instead of trying to liberate the town of sentient horses from their centaur overlord, but Lionel had insisted. Regardless, lamenting the past would get us nowhere. What’s done is done, and we got to have a party in a barn afterwards.
With a determined nod, I reached for the dice with my left hand and gave Charlie my most resolute look.
I took several deep breaths to calm myself as the Lich King went on and on about his own greatness and the glory his ruling would bring to the land. As Thurloth was in the middle of his tirade, I locked gazes with Timaeus.
He seemed to have shaken off the worst of the magic aftershock, and the brief shimmering light that passed through his fingers let me know he was giving me a boost for my last chance against the Lich King.
I thought back to the aforementioned list of people whose future, hopes and well-being relied on the defeat of Thurloth tonight. Hesitating, then, no longer, I recited a quick litany to my God and hoped to the heavens above that we could bring an end to an aeon of undead rule before it started.
My lips moved in silence as they mimicked the holy words that coursed through my mind, guiding me and my sword to strike true in the Lich King’s heart. And with one final lunge that favored my unbroken knee, I swung my weapon with all of my might and promptly gave several spins as I failed to connect with Thurloth’s armour once again.
The boisterous laughter that filled the room made the earlier bout of glee seem like a funeral. One could almost be forgiven for forgetting my failure had doomed an entire realm to live under the oppressive fist of an undead maniac.
I think it should go without saying that I didn’t take part in my the enjoyment of my tablemates. I was too preoccupied with giving my dice a death glare, almost as if in doing so I could merge both into a single die that would show an ‘eleven’ on it. Alas, I had to conform with having rolled the objectively worst possible roll I could have rolled without somehow setting fire to the plastic bits.
“I think it’s official, Jess,” Sarah said between gasps, “the dice are cursed.”
It was only after the laughter died down that I noticed Charlie wasn’t laughing either. What’s more, his vacant stare made me think that was how I probably looked, only that he was staring at his reference book instead of Satan’s tonsil stones.
“What, did she spin too fast and broke her spine? How bad did she fail?” Tim asked once he finally got enough air back in his lungs.
Charlie didn’t say anything at first. He just kept staring down, sparing only brief glances at the dice and myself before turning back to his book.
“Come on, Charlie. Speak up,” Lionel prodded him.
There are moments in life where everything just falls into place. Where you finally make it through the thickest part of the thorn bushes in the garden of life and you get to bask in the glory brought by an all-balancing karmic force.
“Critical Failure,” Charlie recited in an utter shocked monotone befitting a man who had just witnessed a miracle take place, “Player suffers immediate death as well as all adjacent targets.”
One shouldn’t take this as a sign of weakness, or a lack of self-esteem. I like to be true to myself as much as everyone, but I also like not getting stabbed. And when practically every hit of the enemy’s weapon comes from my left, it pays off to be able to dexterously use my shield with my left hand.
That is not to say that there aren’t times when going down in one fell swoop wouldn’t be a preferable option, and as I took the full force of an ancient iron forged warhammer with my shield for the second time, it would be a lie to say there wasn’t a part of me that wished to just let go of the shield and let everything end.
My left arm, thankfully, didn’t seem to share that same opinion, and refused to let go, even as the impact of Thurloth, the Lich King’s warhammer sent me to the ground. Both of my legs had heard what my left arm had to say and quickly steadied the rest of my body. My knees seemed to be rebellious, however, and hindered my efforts to stand up again. I made a mental note to have a serious talk with whichever parts of my body made it out of the underground temple.
“You’ve seen so many fall at my hands,” spoke Thurloth from within the deepest recesses of his hollow armour, “and yet you still find it in yourself to muster up the courage to face me. Were we under different circumstances, I would almost be impressed.”
I would have preferred to cut him out mid-sentence with a witty retort, but politeness demanded that I should let him speak. After all, what is of a Paladin if they do not adhere to a strict moral code and the highest of conduct? That several other parts of my body had joined the shaking faction instigated by my insurgent knees was of little relevance at the moment.
Nevertheless, my years of dealing with Rogues, Thieves, and other lowly scum had made me well-versed in the art of deception and misdirection. Besides, having served as a knight to the highest court of King Chardan, the rightful ruler of the lands graced by the sun, had instructed me in the subtlest schools of diplomacy. All of these allowed me to convince Thurloth, the Lich King that I was genuinely quaking in fear in front of him.
Or at least, that’s how I would tell the story should I get back to the surface alive.
When you get back, Séje. When you get back.
Regardless of the semantics, my charade worked well enough to keep the undead monarch distracted for long enough to gather my bearings and ready an attack. I knew time was of essence, and every second wasted could mean Thurloth got closer to noticing my feint. You could only pretend to be a scared and helpless damsel out of her depth for so long when you’re also one of the land’s most famous knights. Thankfully, the Lich King didn’t seem to be all that good with faces, if his lack of one was any indication.
Knowing that the time for action had arrived, I quickly stopped my carefully planned and dignified sniveling and with just as much precision and dexterity, I lunged forward, hoping that whatever momentum I could gather in that short distance would make up for the lack of strength behind it.
I wished I had spent more time with the monks. Maybe then I could have learned a bit more about physics than the big nothing I knew.
With as much effort as one would normally put in waving away a particularly annoying mosquito, Thurloth raised his lumbering left vambrace to block the strike of my sword, and I found that the recoil of my sword hitting the dense, magically enhanced metal didn’t hurt as much as the knowledge that his left-arm defense was so much better than mine.
This time, the seditious murmuring of my knees had managed to sway the rest of my body, and I flopped unceremoniously onto the ground. There is no respect for authority anymore.
Had the helmet of the Lich King held more than an unforgiving void, I’m certain he would have regarded me with a mix of disdain and amusement. Seeing how he lacked eyes, however, I had no way of knowing what emotion he held as he walked towards me.
It appeared the insurrection of my limbs had spread to my emotions as well, for I could feel an inkling of fear course down my body. I may need to see a healer after this whole ordeal is over. Or a diplomat.
But for a lack of consensus amidst the parts of my body, friendship amongst our group was the best substitute one could ask for.
Friendship, or as the wizard currently casting a protective shield between Thurloth and myself would put it, “strategic acquaintanceship”. I presume “strategic” rationalisations come with an extended lexicon.
“Take no further step, abomination! Thou shan’t lay a finger upon Lady Khai,” the wizard said with his odd mix of archaic and modern dialect.
The wizard--Timaeus by name--was an odd sort of fellow, as most wizards won’t be. Odd, yes, but also a remarkable companion and an incredibly versatile one, at that.
He was the last surviving member of an all but extinct school of arcane arts. State at which they had arrived thanks in no small part to the contributions of Thurloth himself, so it was in Timaeus’s interest to return the Lich King to his eternal slumber and bring assuagement to the memories of his acquaintances.
The fame and prestige that would come from becoming the sole survivor and avenger of his brethren would be entirely fortuitous, he had assured me.
Back at the present, I found myself surrounded by a dome of shimmering light that while managed to be a temporary protection from the Lich King, also prevented me from strategically relocating away from him. Had I been in a different state of mind, I would have made a poetic simile between my situation and King Ardan’s safety measures against goblin infestations, but I was just too glad about not dying to focus on such matters.
Thurlorth remained unimpressed, pausing for the briefest of moments to spare Timaeus a sidelong glance and an unamused huff. Thankfully, this small window of time was all that our archer needed.
A quick volley of arrows hit the armour of the undead tyrant in its joints and open spots, as few as there were. Not a second had passed since they hit their target before the runes inscribed in them glowed with a bright purple light, and blew up in small blasts of arcane energy.
“Take that, you fascist autocrat!” Lyen yelled from the shadows--since remaining undetected was a less vital priority than yelling inappropriate and possibly redundant remarks--as he saw the false king stumble backwards, and I could just imagine him thrusting his fist into the air in early celebration.
Lyen was, due to a lack of a better term, wholly unremarkable in nearly all conceivable aspects save for his marksmanship.
This, of course, was in no way a jab at him. Far from the truth. He’s a friend as loyal as one could ask and one of the best archers to grace this land. However, his unexceptionality was a joint verdict at which both Timaeus and myself had arrived after well over a year of having journeyed alongside him, so spending more words on him would be a disservice to all those involved.
“Hey!” Lyen yelled at me. For a second I feared that the proximity of death had made me break my oath of silence, and he had heard my unkind yet entirely accurate remarks about him. However, my fears--or at least those pertaining to a social faux pas and breaking my oath of servitude to my God--were soon assuaged when the archer spoke again. “He’s coming back for you, Sèje!”
My eyes widened in surprise as I saw the black shape of Thurloth reeling back and bringing down his warhammer upon the shimmering barrier.
When thinking of millennia-old armour made out of a secret magical alloy, the composition of which was lost to time due to the tribe of dwarves who made it being
slaughtered as to preserve the secret, and enchanted with dark magic found only in ancient tomes written in lost languages, one could be forgiven for not thinking of the word “speed”. I was one of them, and yet I stood corrected. Or laid, I guess.
Thurloth brought down his mighty warhammer over and over again, making the barrier bulge and bend under its force.
An odd, distant voice made an off-hand comment about getting mercilessly pounded by the King, but I made an effort to ignore it.
Amidst the barrage of hits, it came to my attention that every impact of the hammer felt less powerful than the ones who I had received earlier. Granted, the difference was akin to being attacked by a bear or being attacked by a pack of wolves, but the King seemed to be dishing out softer blows in exchange for speed.
Before I could do anything with this new information, however, the magic barrier was forced beyond the point where it could bend and it shattered into countless fragments that dissolved into the air. Keeping the shield up must have been a strain on Timaeus, and having it dispelled so forcefully must have caused him some severe backlash, if his pained cry was anything to go by.
Not that I was faring much better. The shock of seeing my only defense be ripped away must have left me momentarily dazed, seeing how Thurloth was bringing down his hammer once again by the time I became aware of what happened, leaving me with just enough time to lift my shield and cover my chest.
With the benefit of hindsight, perhaps I should’ve just rolled to the side.
A loud crack resonated in the hall, but I couldn’t say for certain if it had been the floor beneath me, my armour, or some of my bones. I could still feel most of my body, so that meant at least my spine was fine.
Fate seemed to throw us a bone, for Thurloth, the Lich King started laughing a laughter so uproarious it made the room itself shake. Thankfully, his imprisonment in a hallowed obsidian jar within an antimagic circle buried deep within the highest mountains of the realm had happened well before the Age of Enlightenment, so he didn’t know about the dangers of monologuing.
I took several deep breaths to calm myself as the Lich King went on and on about his own greatness and the glory his ruling would bring to the land. As Thurloth was in the middle of explaining how his path to greatness had started when he killed his own father with a cursed sword of the ancient gods--or killed an ancient god with his father’s cursed sword, I can’t quite recall--I locked gazes with Timaeus.
He seemed just as worried as me, and while Lyen remained hidden in the shadows, I could bet he felt the same way, too. With a small nod, the wizard cast a quick healing spell. Subtle enough not to be noticed by the King, but strong enough so that I could stand up once again.
So lost was Thurloth in his recounting of his grandeur that he didn’t notice how I painfully stood up. Though I must admit I got a sardonic kick out of noticing my right knee was indeed broke, that’ll show them to rebel.
With nothing more than a few seconds before the surprise element was thoroughly snuffed, I went for my final shot at snuffing him first. If I managed to pierce his armour, then Timaeus may be able to hold it open for long enough so Lyen could use his remaining enchanted arrows to blast the King apart, leaving the wizard to seal him once again.
After a quick silent prayer to my God, I ran forward, putting just a little bit of pressure on my right leg and thrusted my sword forwards, carrying with it the strength of our fallen comrades, the faith of those who relied upon us to defeat the mad tyrant, the hope for the future generations. All these imbued my sacred sword with enough power to smite a soul as wicked and rotten as Thurloth’s…
...Only for him to turn around at the last second, causing me to barely graze his armour and fall face first onto the floor.
“What the actual hell!?” I yelled as I stared at the ‘five’ and ‘eight’ on the dice, and yet my indignant cries were drowned by the uproarious laughter around the table. At least Lionel and Charlie were making an effort to hide their snickering. Timothy and Sarah, on the other hand seemed to revel in their mirth.
“Hot damn, Jessica,” Sarah said once her laughter had died down to roughly the same level of my ability to restrain a suckerpunch, “the dice have not been on your side tonight.”
“You’re one to talk, Sarah. Excuse me if my memory is faulty, but weren’t you the first of the party to die by the Lich King’s hand?” I said while making an effort to keep my sarcasm at playful levels. For her part, our late Rogue simply shrugged.
“At least I went down fighting, not falling down while attempting to fight.”
The bitterness coursing through me made it so easy to come back with a scathing retort but before I could lay down a verbal beating upon the infidel, Charlie interjected in what I assume was an attempt at defusing my anger.
“Speaking of talking, Jessica. I assume your little outburst wasn’t meant to be in character, right?” he then tapped into his years of roleplaying experience to put on the mask of the affable King Chardan, “Say it is so, I couldn’t possibly imagine a Paladin as devout as the gracious Lady Sèje Khai breaking her oath of silence.”
If this really was his way of calming me down, then it was only working for the most part. I had to admit I was being ridiculous for losing my temper at something so inconsequential. Not as ridiculous as my absurdly low rolls I’ve been getting all night, of course, but ridiculous all the same.
With a weary sigh, I hung my head in shame and nodded.
“Kudos on the roleplaying, though,” Lionel offered.
I decided to ignore him. I knew it wasn’t his intention to sound condescending, but in my current mindset, it was hard to take it otherwise.
“We might as well take this moment to figure out what to do,” Tim said, kicking back and throwing his arms behind his head, “I know I’m probably down for the count, how long is the backlash from the shield going to leave me dazed?”
Charlie rustled the pages of his reference book as he hummed a tuneless melody, “Couple more turns, you really were putting a lot into that shield.”
“I still think our original plan is our best option,” Lionel said with a tentative edge in his voice. His inexperience showed in his lack of confidence. There was a reason he played his character close to his chest, and it wasn’t because he was the lone and mysterious kind. Then again, he’s the youngest of us, so maybe he thinks that’s cool.
“Good old ‘crack, tear, and blast’? Yeah, I think we should go for that,” Tim replied. As he glanced at his character sheet, probably in search of a spell of some sort that could be useful.
“I’d like to tear his crack with a blast,” Sarah muttered under her breath as she tried to hold back another set of giggles.
“Stop that, Sarah. You’re not funny and you never were,” Tim said, though I could notice the barest of twitches in the corner of his mouth.
“Alright people, I’m making an executive decision here,” Charlie said as he closed his book in a quick motion, “As things are right now, you guys are going to lose. Badly. So just for the sake of giving you a fighting chance, I’m going to let Jessica roll her attack again.”
There was a sting to his words, but I knew he was right. The accursed dice had not been kind on us, and if we were still alive it was only because the damage dice were as cursed as ours were.
“I still have an immediate action I can use,” Tim chimed in, and he sounded genuinely hopeful.
“Well, you can either aid Jess, or try to attack Thurloth. Just remember you can only use basic spells,” Charlie said in that dull monotone voice of his he only used when he entered his Dungeon Master zone.
“I can work with that,” Tim said as he happily rearranged his notes.
“Alright, then. Everyone ready?”
There was a moment where everyone simply stared at each other in silence before a slow harmony of mumbled assertions was heard. Our chances of coming out victorious from this fight were slim at best, and I knew deep down we all wished we had listen to the old prophecy in time instead of trying to liberate the town of sentient horses from their centaur overlord, but Lionel had insisted. Regardless, lamenting the past would get us nowhere. What’s done is done, and we got to have a party in a barn afterwards.
With a determined nod, I reached for the dice with my left hand and gave Charlie my most resolute look.
I took several deep breaths to calm myself as the Lich King went on and on about his own greatness and the glory his ruling would bring to the land. As Thurloth was in the middle of his tirade, I locked gazes with Timaeus.
He seemed to have shaken off the worst of the magic aftershock, and the brief shimmering light that passed through his fingers let me know he was giving me a boost for my last chance against the Lich King.
I thought back to the aforementioned list of people whose future, hopes and well-being relied on the defeat of Thurloth tonight. Hesitating, then, no longer, I recited a quick litany to my God and hoped to the heavens above that we could bring an end to an aeon of undead rule before it started.
My lips moved in silence as they mimicked the holy words that coursed through my mind, guiding me and my sword to strike true in the Lich King’s heart. And with one final lunge that favored my unbroken knee, I swung my weapon with all of my might and promptly gave several spins as I failed to connect with Thurloth’s armour once again.
The boisterous laughter that filled the room made the earlier bout of glee seem like a funeral. One could almost be forgiven for forgetting my failure had doomed an entire realm to live under the oppressive fist of an undead maniac.
I think it should go without saying that I didn’t take part in my the enjoyment of my tablemates. I was too preoccupied with giving my dice a death glare, almost as if in doing so I could merge both into a single die that would show an ‘eleven’ on it. Alas, I had to conform with having rolled the objectively worst possible roll I could have rolled without somehow setting fire to the plastic bits.
“I think it’s official, Jess,” Sarah said between gasps, “the dice are cursed.”
It was only after the laughter died down that I noticed Charlie wasn’t laughing either. What’s more, his vacant stare made me think that was how I probably looked, only that he was staring at his reference book instead of Satan’s tonsil stones.
“What, did she spin too fast and broke her spine? How bad did she fail?” Tim asked once he finally got enough air back in his lungs.
Charlie didn’t say anything at first. He just kept staring down, sparing only brief glances at the dice and myself before turning back to his book.
“Come on, Charlie. Speak up,” Lionel prodded him.
There are moments in life where everything just falls into place. Where you finally make it through the thickest part of the thorn bushes in the garden of life and you get to bask in the glory brought by an all-balancing karmic force.
“Critical Failure,” Charlie recited in an utter shocked monotone befitting a man who had just witnessed a miracle take place, “Player suffers immediate death as well as all adjacent targets.”
I really hoped the title meant this would be about evil bread rolls.
I had such a hard time getting a hook out of this. The first paragraph suggested some kind of self-reflective slice of life about being left-handed. The second paragraph shatters that assumption by reframing that in the context of some kind of warrior or soldier. Not bad, I kinda like being thrown off guard like that. Then the third paragraph tells me this is in media res, already in the middle of a battle.
That's when it begins to lose me. The rest of the battle is written in this same detached and wordy style, and in almost a snarky tone. It's like the action is happening so far away that none of this is all that urgent or important. As if this is Monty Python and the Holy Grail, except I'm still waiting uncomfortably for a joke to happen. I felt extremely bored.
I felt so little tension and more confusion, because the story kept "correcting" itself. Or rather, it started by revealing almost nothing, and slowly reveals more, but only after actions have happened. Like the main character is quaking on the floor, THEN it's revealed she's female (therefore acting a certain specific way to fool the lich). Oh by the way, there's a wizard casting a spell on Séje, here's his biography. OK, a paladin and wizard are fighting a lich together, I gotcha. But wait, there's arrows! We forgot to mention we have an archer hanging around. Here's his biography.
I feel like I'm being conned and can't keep up. I don't understand the full picture of this scene, but things are happening before I can process them. I can't form any expectations for what might happen, because something new is constantly showing up. It's going very quickly, yet so slowly at the same time because of all the pauses to explain someone's backstory or how some metal armor was made.
So the only solitary fact I know about this guy is.... he's an archer. Much like all I know about Timaeus's personality is that he's a wizard. And the paladin is left-handed. I can't even cheer for these characters, they're nothing but hollow archetypes. I'd cheer for the villain, but he's so ordinary too.
So yes, I did read on to the end. I discovered the point to all this. It's detached because it's just a game. The characters are supposed to be undeveloped. The purple prose is intentional because it's meant to be a parody of over-the-top fantasy stories. With the nihilistic twist that the epic battle becomes an anticlimax thanks to a few dice rolls.
I see what the author's trying to do here. Clever. But does it really improve the story? If this weren't in the Writeoff, I would've stopped reading 1/3 through and never seen it. That's how bored I was. I'm not gonna last long enough to reach the punchline, especially if I have no idea that any punchline is coming.
I had such a hard time getting a hook out of this. The first paragraph suggested some kind of self-reflective slice of life about being left-handed. The second paragraph shatters that assumption by reframing that in the context of some kind of warrior or soldier. Not bad, I kinda like being thrown off guard like that. Then the third paragraph tells me this is in media res, already in the middle of a battle.
That's when it begins to lose me. The rest of the battle is written in this same detached and wordy style, and in almost a snarky tone. It's like the action is happening so far away that none of this is all that urgent or important. As if this is Monty Python and the Holy Grail, except I'm still waiting uncomfortably for a joke to happen. I felt extremely bored.
I felt so little tension and more confusion, because the story kept "correcting" itself. Or rather, it started by revealing almost nothing, and slowly reveals more, but only after actions have happened. Like the main character is quaking on the floor, THEN it's revealed she's female (therefore acting a certain specific way to fool the lich). Oh by the way, there's a wizard casting a spell on Séje, here's his biography. OK, a paladin and wizard are fighting a lich together, I gotcha. But wait, there's arrows! We forgot to mention we have an archer hanging around. Here's his biography.
I feel like I'm being conned and can't keep up. I don't understand the full picture of this scene, but things are happening before I can process them. I can't form any expectations for what might happen, because something new is constantly showing up. It's going very quickly, yet so slowly at the same time because of all the pauses to explain someone's backstory or how some metal armor was made.
Lyen was, due to a lack of a better term, wholly unremarkable in nearly all conceivable aspects save for his marksmanship.
So the only solitary fact I know about this guy is.... he's an archer. Much like all I know about Timaeus's personality is that he's a wizard. And the paladin is left-handed. I can't even cheer for these characters, they're nothing but hollow archetypes. I'd cheer for the villain, but he's so ordinary too.
So yes, I did read on to the end. I discovered the point to all this. It's detached because it's just a game. The characters are supposed to be undeveloped. The purple prose is intentional because it's meant to be a parody of over-the-top fantasy stories. With the nihilistic twist that the epic battle becomes an anticlimax thanks to a few dice rolls.
I see what the author's trying to do here. Clever. But does it really improve the story? If this weren't in the Writeoff, I would've stopped reading 1/3 through and never seen it. That's how bored I was. I'm not gonna last long enough to reach the punchline, especially if I have no idea that any punchline is coming.
The opening suggests something character-based and at least slightly reflective. That turns out to be wholly unrepresentative of the fic itself. I actually thought to myself, a quarter of the way through, "God, this reads like someone trying to turn a D&D session into a story."
Of course, it turns out that's exactly what it is, but having better than half your story read like that still isn't good; it's dull, low-engagement stuff for the reader. A page or so might be one thing, to set up the reveal, but this drags out the worst aspects of what people think of when they think "D&D game-turned-novel" too long. As long as I'm doing spoiler text, let me take a moment to mention that the shift to IRL exposed some dialogue issues; what could previously be written off as an attempt at character voicing carried through to the present day in the form of stilted, unnatural speaking lines.
The writing, meanwhile, is full of meandering sentences, unnecessary adverbs, missing words, and the occasional idiosyncratic error. It didn't help my enjoyment that I've heard this joke/urban legend/meme (honestly, I don't even know what to call it, exactly) before, but even if it was new to me, there were plenty of presentation issues here to stop me from fully appreciating the humor of the situation.
Of course, it turns out that's exactly what it is, but having better than half your story read like that still isn't good; it's dull, low-engagement stuff for the reader. A page or so might be one thing, to set up the reveal, but this drags out the worst aspects of what people think of when they think "D&D game-turned-novel" too long. As long as I'm doing spoiler text, let me take a moment to mention that the shift to IRL exposed some dialogue issues; what could previously be written off as an attempt at character voicing carried through to the present day in the form of stilted, unnatural speaking lines.
The writing, meanwhile, is full of meandering sentences, unnecessary adverbs, missing words, and the occasional idiosyncratic error. It didn't help my enjoyment that I've heard this joke/urban legend/meme (honestly, I don't even know what to call it, exactly) before, but even if it was new to me, there were plenty of presentation issues here to stop me from fully appreciating the humor of the situation.
I'll disagree with Haze about the character introductions. While it wasn't the most brilliant idea, it was enough to not interrupt the flow of the narration.
In general, I find the story pleasant but average. There is nothing new, there isn't some sort of moral and the characters are... okay I guess. So it's neither bad or good, just... average. Pleasant to read but forgetable.
And by the way, the first paragraph on the left-handed is wrong on so many levels. Being a left-handed is an advantage when it comes to fight or sports of opposition, because every move players or fighters have learned so deep that it became reflexes are designed against right-handed people. So the left-handeds non only know these moves and how to counter them but also their opponents don't know how to counter their.
In general, I find the story pleasant but average. There is nothing new, there isn't some sort of moral and the characters are... okay I guess. So it's neither bad or good, just... average. Pleasant to read but forgetable.
And by the way, the first paragraph on the left-handed is wrong on so many levels. Being a left-handed is an advantage when it comes to fight or sports of opposition, because every move players or fighters have learned so deep that it became reflexes are designed against right-handed people. So the left-handeds non only know these moves and how to counter them but also their opponents don't know how to counter their.
>>Fenton I've not yet read this story, but I must agree that being left handed can have its benefits. When I was younger, I boxed and did judo, and oftentimes people I sparred or competed with wouldn't know how to compensate for my opposite stance, nor my left hand being the dominant one. It wouldn't always make a difference, but sometimes I would take an orthodox boxing stance at the start of a fight, just so I could throw an absolute killer jab with my strong hand (which my opponent would assume was my weak one) then switch to southpaw later on. It was good for confusing and demoralising people, but sometimes you'd just get lamped before you got to put your little plan into action.
On a side note, I can't use scissors to save my life, left handedness can be detrimental in a game of pool, where many shots just aren't natural for you, and you'll find it hard to win arm wrestles. Also, I started playing guitar hero when I was younger, and could never play on expert, cause I played it right handed, and my right hand just couldn't strum fast enough.
I also roll my cigarettes the opposite way to most people I know. I've heard that enough time playing the piano will help to even out a persons dexterity, so if you wish to be more versatile, that's an option I guess.
Sorry for the tangent.
Edit: I've now read this story, and I'm not too mad on it. Like Fenton said, about average. The concept was pretty new to me though, just wasn't huge on the story telling, some of the words were unnecessary, a lot of the dialogue looked unnecessary even in a D&D style fantasy setting, let alone in real life. Besides, I just wasn't too hot on the whole boss fight thing.
“You’re one to talk, Sarah. Excuse me if my memory is faulty, but weren’t you the first of the party to die by the Lich King’s hand?” I just can't imagine anyone actually saying this, but maybe that's just my opinion. There was nothing there to make me dislike the story, even if it dragged on in places and the descriptions of the supporting RPG characters really did nothing to aid the story, none of it was in any way terrible. The author seems to have a good vocabulary, and likely has potential to create good stories, I wouldn't be surprised if they have done so before, in fact.
A reasonably decent read, although I doubt I could have got through a few thousand more words of this, in all honesty.
AAIQU
On a side note, I can't use scissors to save my life, left handedness can be detrimental in a game of pool, where many shots just aren't natural for you, and you'll find it hard to win arm wrestles. Also, I started playing guitar hero when I was younger, and could never play on expert, cause I played it right handed, and my right hand just couldn't strum fast enough.
I also roll my cigarettes the opposite way to most people I know. I've heard that enough time playing the piano will help to even out a persons dexterity, so if you wish to be more versatile, that's an option I guess.
Sorry for the tangent.
Edit: I've now read this story, and I'm not too mad on it. Like Fenton said, about average. The concept was pretty new to me though, just wasn't huge on the story telling, some of the words were unnecessary, a lot of the dialogue looked unnecessary even in a D&D style fantasy setting, let alone in real life. Besides, I just wasn't too hot on the whole boss fight thing.
“You’re one to talk, Sarah. Excuse me if my memory is faulty, but weren’t you the first of the party to die by the Lich King’s hand?” I just can't imagine anyone actually saying this, but maybe that's just my opinion. There was nothing there to make me dislike the story, even if it dragged on in places and the descriptions of the supporting RPG characters really did nothing to aid the story, none of it was in any way terrible. The author seems to have a good vocabulary, and likely has potential to create good stories, I wouldn't be surprised if they have done so before, in fact.
A reasonably decent read, although I doubt I could have got through a few thousand more words of this, in all honesty.
AAIQU
So she did kill the lich in the end? Was Lyonel far enough away he could drag their corpses back to a priest for a rez?
I appreciate that this actually went back and forth between the RPG and IRL. I'm not sure that the ending really makes the whole shebang 'worth it', but I appreciate that it didn't just smash-cut and close.
You've got some strange wording and pronoun confusion here.
made me think the hammer was named Thurloth.
made me think the lich was gathering the bearings.
Stuff like that.
Otherwise, it's fairly solid; you get a good amount of characterization in here, and some world-building (even if it's pretty generic DnD type stuff.)
The problem is that mostly all of that characterization is kinda tossed out at the IRL reveal, and the ending isn't really given proper impact to Jessica. How does she feel about her character being dead? Does she regret all that roleplay now that she might need to roll a new one? Is her gaming group mad at her? Stuff like that.
The structure here is solid. Like, you're hitting all the beats of a good plot. The thing is, I want more from a plot than a skeleton of actions; I want emotions and meaning tied in there as well, and that's kinda undercut here because most all of the plot happens in the RPG, before the IRL reveal, which mostly robs it of meaning.
Hopefully that makes sense. /shrug.
Pretty good in some ways, but didn't really follow through in the end.
I appreciate that this actually went back and forth between the RPG and IRL. I'm not sure that the ending really makes the whole shebang 'worth it', but I appreciate that it didn't just smash-cut and close.
You've got some strange wording and pronoun confusion here.
as the impact of Thurloth, the Lich King’s warhammer
made me think the hammer was named Thurloth.
keep the undead monarch distracted for long enough to gather my bearings
made me think the lich was gathering the bearings.
Stuff like that.
Otherwise, it's fairly solid; you get a good amount of characterization in here, and some world-building (even if it's pretty generic DnD type stuff.)
The problem is that mostly all of that characterization is kinda tossed out at the IRL reveal, and the ending isn't really given proper impact to Jessica. How does she feel about her character being dead? Does she regret all that roleplay now that she might need to roll a new one? Is her gaming group mad at her? Stuff like that.
The structure here is solid. Like, you're hitting all the beats of a good plot. The thing is, I want more from a plot than a skeleton of actions; I want emotions and meaning tied in there as well, and that's kinda undercut here because most all of the plot happens in the RPG, before the IRL reveal, which mostly robs it of meaning.
Hopefully that makes sense. /shrug.
Pretty good in some ways, but didn't really follow through in the end.
Seje Khai and the Cursed Roll — B — Ah, a Fantasy Role-Playing story. (or so it seems) Oh, gods. 4E or 5E. Ick! Bonus points for being well-written, dings for going for FRP breaking the fourth wall, and how did you get a hold of my dice? I swear those are mine. I have to tell the story sometime of how I once used the words, “Don’t worry, I have a good default.”
My apologies, author. When I read your story, your punchline was robbed of its impact by factors completely out of your control. Namely, that I've read very nearly this exact story before (the main character was even a paladin). Convergent evolution is cruel. :(
Trying my best to ignore that for Writeoff evaluation ...
The good news is that your story's got a grabby hook, and you've got a sure hand with the vibrant little details. You definitely had me out the gate. I started getting a little nagging feeling at "Paladin", which blossomed out as you talked about rogues, and then when the wizard stepped in ... it was kinda disappointing seeing this descend into the vanilla tropes of a D&D game when it felt like it was standing so well on its own as a fantasy tale. (Nitpick: Gotta join the chorus of left-handed fighters noting that that gives you an advantage, though.) That's not a dealbreaker, mind -- it just means that you're kicking out the foundations of your worldbuilding and shifting the focus of the story, and suddenly you have to shift gears midway through and make us care not just about the characters but also their players. That certainly felt like a relative weakness (hard not to, when you're starting from scratch with introducing them midway through and trying to keep the pace of the story smooth). Without that, though, the big effect of turning it into just a game is to rob the in-game scene of its tension (as >>Not_A_Hat notes).
So, yeah. This one felt like it just sort of dissipated its promise as it went along ... landing that punchline could certainly have helped, but my inability to be amused by it killed the story for me. Sorry, again.
Tier: Misaimed
Trying my best to ignore that for Writeoff evaluation ...
The good news is that your story's got a grabby hook, and you've got a sure hand with the vibrant little details. You definitely had me out the gate. I started getting a little nagging feeling at "Paladin", which blossomed out as you talked about rogues, and then when the wizard stepped in ... it was kinda disappointing seeing this descend into the vanilla tropes of a D&D game when it felt like it was standing so well on its own as a fantasy tale. (Nitpick: Gotta join the chorus of left-handed fighters noting that that gives you an advantage, though.) That's not a dealbreaker, mind -- it just means that you're kicking out the foundations of your worldbuilding and shifting the focus of the story, and suddenly you have to shift gears midway through and make us care not just about the characters but also their players. That certainly felt like a relative weakness (hard not to, when you're starting from scratch with introducing them midway through and trying to keep the pace of the story smooth). Without that, though, the big effect of turning it into just a game is to rob the in-game scene of its tension (as >>Not_A_Hat notes).
So, yeah. This one felt like it just sort of dissipated its promise as it went along ... landing that punchline could certainly have helped, but my inability to be amused by it killed the story for me. Sorry, again.
Tier: Misaimed
Interesting mix of elements here. The title gives away the gimmick - I wondered if it was going to be D&D from the start, and "Thurloth, the Lich King" was a good confirmation. I could've done without the first three paragraphs before that, though. Those made the hook weak for me, and (as other comments show) a reader who is unfamiliar with D&D or similar games is certainly going to be confused.
Well, I said interesting, but really I think the different parts of the story are at odds with one another. It's too detailed and not quite hammy enough to be full comedy, yet too hammy to hold much tension. Pick comedy or drama and go with one or the other.
I'd also liked to have seen a better balance between the in-game and out-of-game sides. When it became clear that in-game wasn't going to hold tension, I looked forward to seeing the out-of-game "real characters" interacting, but then they weren't presented with enough depth to really get into their dynamics.
The final punchline (and really the overall premise) is also one I've seen before, in this exact form, in a fairly well known story in RPG circles, enough to be linked on TVTropes. And not just in that link, there's a few more examples floating in my memory. So some points off for unoriginality, I'm afraid - it's too close and too common for me to really believe the author came up with this ending completely independently.
How would I improve this? Mainly with the good ol' editing buzzsaw. Cut the in-game scenes way, way down, eliminate all the excess baggage and focus on a small number of comedy beats. If you want drama, put the drama into the out-of-game humans and flesh that side out a bit more. The punchline... well, if you must do it, at least do it well and try to substantially differentiate your use from other instances in some way.
Overall still pretty all right, it was not unenjoyable. Thanks for writing!
Well, I said interesting, but really I think the different parts of the story are at odds with one another. It's too detailed and not quite hammy enough to be full comedy, yet too hammy to hold much tension. Pick comedy or drama and go with one or the other.
I'd also liked to have seen a better balance between the in-game and out-of-game sides. When it became clear that in-game wasn't going to hold tension, I looked forward to seeing the out-of-game "real characters" interacting, but then they weren't presented with enough depth to really get into their dynamics.
The final punchline (and really the overall premise) is also one I've seen before, in this exact form, in a fairly well known story in RPG circles, enough to be linked on TVTropes. And not just in that link, there's a few more examples floating in my memory. So some points off for unoriginality, I'm afraid - it's too close and too common for me to really believe the author came up with this ending completely independently.
How would I improve this? Mainly with the good ol' editing buzzsaw. Cut the in-game scenes way, way down, eliminate all the excess baggage and focus on a small number of comedy beats. If you want drama, put the drama into the out-of-game humans and flesh that side out a bit more. The punchline... well, if you must do it, at least do it well and try to substantially differentiate your use from other instances in some way.
Overall still pretty all right, it was not unenjoyable. Thanks for writing!
Cute and a generally pleasant little read, but probably about 700 words too long. Like, for being under a vow of silence, our faux protagonist is quite internally chatty! And while I can forgive some of the announcing (particular given the format), it way overwhelms the actual action that's going on. I really am serious. Cut like, 700 words from the first scene and I think things'll improve a lot.
Similarly, while I actually like the opening line, it takes way too long to get into the actual material afterwards.
I really do like the tone (it clicked pretty quickly what this was with the title in mind), and honestly I think with some polish this'd be pretty excellent. You're speaking one of my preferred voices.
Similarly, while I actually like the opening line, it takes way too long to get into the actual material afterwards.
I really do like the tone (it clicked pretty quickly what this was with the title in mind), and honestly I think with some polish this'd be pretty excellent. You're speaking one of my preferred voices.
I never played D&D much. I experienced it just a little, but was too young at the time to properly appreciate it. That said, stories like this make me feel like trying it again.
The story was generally pointless and riddled with typos, but otherwise enjoyable. I liked the snarky prose quite a bit, even if it got a bit long-winded at times. I laughed, which is not common for me, and that goes a long way in this story's favor.
But still, I prefer my stories with a bit more purpose.
The story was generally pointless and riddled with typos, but otherwise enjoyable. I liked the snarky prose quite a bit, even if it got a bit long-winded at times. I laughed, which is not common for me, and that goes a long way in this story's favor.
But still, I prefer my stories with a bit more purpose.