Chapter 6 #2
“In character, Archer,” Rowan reminded him.
Jake rolled his eyes. “Fine. I lower the bow a little. Only a little.”
Andrew lifted a hand. “Druid here. I cast Speak with Animals and thank the undead bird for its service,” he said. “Also, I want to see if Dud has any moss growing on him that I can harvest.”
Jason slapped his palm to his own chest. “Dud absolutely has moss. Dud is very proud of his ecosystem.”
Rowan covered his mouth to hide a laugh. “You approach the Cave Troll. The smell intensifies.”
Jason leaned over the table and sniffed his own arm for effect. Warmth radiated off his shoulder, and pine and detergent threaded through the air. “You get used to it,” he said.
“Never,” Jake murmured.
“I address the Cave Troll,” I said. “Greetings, stranger. We seek the Grieving Tower. Do you mean to pass, or do you mean to hinder us?” The line sounded much cooler in my head. Out loud, it came with a hint of squeak.
Jason looked at me with open delight. “Dud like shiny knight,” he said in character. “Dud has no plan. Dud goes where rocks point.”
“Insight check,” Andrew said, already reaching for his dice.
Rowan waved him down. “The Cave Troll is an open book. He is either incapable of lying or incapable of thinking ahead long enough to make it worth the effort.”
Jason gasped in offense. “Dud very offended. Dud plans things. Dud once planned to pee before long journey.”
Jake finally cracked a laugh. He tried to bury it in a cough, but we all heard it.
“Right,” Rowan said. “Paladin, you sense no evil intent, only a very pungent mix of sweat, moss, and stubborn loyalty to whoever gives him the most snacks.”
Jason jabbed a thumb at the cheese platter. “Dud has already chosen his leader.”
“Not me,” Jake said quickly.
I looked at my sheet. My Paladin had taken an oath of devotion three campaigns ago. Apparently, that destiny included a smelly Troll. “I offer him a piece of dried fruit from my rations,” I said. “In exchange for his aid.”
Jason’s eyes lit up. It was theatrical and ridiculous and somehow completely sincere. “Dud falls to his knees,” he declared without waiting for Rowan. “Dud swears mighty oath to protect fruit knight. Dud will crush enemies. Dud will block arrows. Dud will not fart near him. Much.”
Rowan lifted both hands. “Noted. A new bond is formed. Archer, your party just adopted a Cave Troll.”
Jake shook his head, but there was a smile he could not quite hide. “If he steps on me, I’m shooting him.”
“Dud will never step on shiny Archer,” Jason said. “Dud will step on skulls instead.”
We fell into the rhythm of play. Rowan painted the path toward the tower with his words. Jagged stones, a chasm with a narrow bridge, a flock of skeletal bats. Jason asked a constant stream of questions. What does the bridge look like? How wide? How deep is the chasm? Can a Troll fit?
He listened when Rowan answered. He listened when Andrew suggested a spell. He listened when I nervously proposed a tactical formation that put my Paladin shield up front and Dud as mobile cover. Then he nodded like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“Dud goes where fruit knight goes,” he said.
The line punched right through my armor. It was only a game.
It still counted.
At one point, a swarm of bats dove at us. Jake fired arrows that picked off three in a single round. Andrew summoned a gust of wind. I rolled a saving throw and groaned when the number came up low.
“You take the full brunt of the swarm,” Rowan intoned. “Your health drops by twelve.”
Before I could say anything, Jason thrust his die forward. “Dud takes the hit,” he said. “Dud jumps in front of the bats for fruit knight.”
Rowan hesitated. Then he smiled slowly. “Roll for it.”
Jason rolled. The die bounced, spun, and landed on a number that made all of us lean in.
“Natural twenty,” Rowan read.
“Maxed out luck, baby,” Jason whispered.
Rowan spread his hands. “The Cave Troll launches himself in front of the Paladin. Wings and teeth and bone slam into his bulk instead. He roars. Your health takes the damage, Dud. The Paladin is untouched.”
Jason lifted both fists in the air. “Dud wins,” he said. Then he glanced sideways at me. “You good, fruit knight?”
He asked it in character, but the look in his eyes was all Jason. Warm, a little amused, and weirdly earnest.
I swallowed. “Yeah,” I said. “Thanks.” My voice came out softer than I meant. Jason’s smile widened, and something in my chest slid another small step out of alignment.
Rowan pressed on. The tower waited. The map I had drawn lay under our hands. For once, I wasn’t staring at the door or the clock. I was watching Jason lean forward into the candlelight, good arm around the back of my chair as he reached for the dice, lips curved in concentration.
He was loud, too hot to look at for too long, a little chaotic, and occasionally obnoxious.
He was also here. He had kept his word. He was taking this ridiculous campaign seriously because it mattered to me.
No spreadsheet in the world could untangle that.