Chapter 8
Teddy
I should have said no. I should have pretended to be ill, or just said I didn’t want to go. Cited something to do with jet lag, despite having been in the UK for a week and a half. But Jen was so excited when I told her I had plans.
She’d been on me about it for years, actually – not about Dungeons I didn’t need friends.
When I was back in California, I could make friends just fine.
At least when I was younger, anyway; sure, I’d spent most stateside nights the past few years alone in my van, but that was a personal preference.
The point of wanting to move to Wales full time was that Gwenynen was my home, and Jen was my family.
All I needed was her, Willow, Maggie, and the bees.
I didn’t need friends or clubs or any of that to feel at home.
To have a perfectly full life. Mom’s dream for us had always been a little insular family at the farm, and I still wanted that for myself.
When Jen had asked where I was going, shocked to see me actually leaving for the evening, I’d thought about lying to her, knowing she’d be like a dog with a bone.
I didn’t know how to tell her why I’d decided this was the social invite I would accept, rather than the Young Farmers Club, or the people her friends tried to set me up with, or the sons of the guy who farmed the neighbouring fields.
I wasn’t quick enough, though, and I’d had to tell her the truth.
“Some of Chloe’s friends are playing games, and they’ve invited me to join.”
Jen’s face had gone pink with joy as she’d pulled me into an uncomfortable hug; probably only uncomfortable because I didn’t hug her back.
“It’s not a big deal,” I’d said.
“Sure,” she’d said, winking at me. “Of course not. But have fun, will you?”
Which was how I found myself next to Chloe at a stranger’s dining table, surrounded by other strangers whose names had been rattled off so quickly I hadn’t stood a chance, staring at increasingly complicated chunks of resin.
“This is the one you’ll use most of the time,” said Fatima, pointing to the die with a twenty facing upward.
She was the only one whose name I knew, since she’d repeated it for me.
She seemed to be the leader of the group.
She’d given me a piece of paper with information about the character I’d be playing – she’d actually asked if I knew what I wanted to play, then slid me the piece of paper when I’d stared wide-eyed back at her in response – and she had a bunch of notebooks and reference materials in front of her.
“I’ll tell you which one to roll and when.”
“Ooh, I have an idea!” said the leggy blonde sat across from me, rummaging through what looked like a pencil case full of dice. She ended up dumping the whole lot onto the table – they clattered across the surface, the sparkly ones catching the light in a way I had to admit was quite mesmerising.
“How you have all of those dice after less than a year of playing is beyond me,” said the bearded guy next to her.
“Fuck off,” she retorted. “You bought me half of these.”
“It’s the classic dice goblin pipeline,” Chloe said, helping the blonde push the dice into a more concentrated pile. “The quantity of new sets will tail off eventually, but they’ll get progressively more expensive.”
The girl plucked seemingly random dice from the pile and swapped them out with some of the ones in front of me. Now, instead of a matching black set, each one was a different colour or pattern.
“Now you can just say ‘the pink one’ or ‘the one with the ducks’.”
Fatima nodded. “Good shout.” She turned back to me.
“I won’t introduce you for a few minutes, so you can just watch how the others play for a while, okay?”
I nodded. “Sure.”
She smiled, but said smile dropped instantly when she looked up at the rest of the table. Chloe had her hand up as if she were sat in class.
“Yes, Chloe?” Fatima’s voice sounded strained, like she already knew Chloe’s question would annoy her.
“Bio break?” Chloe asked, sounding almost sheepish.
Fatima groaned. She’d given everyone a two-minute warning about eight minutes ago. “Fine. But everyone please get situated after that. We start in five.”
Chloe shot up and out of the room, and the curly-haired girl at the other end stood up and started calling for the little teddy bear of a dog sniffing my ankles. I reached down to scratch his head.
“You smell Willow, don’t you?” I asked as he turned his head to lick my palm.
“Do you have a dog?” the girl asked. I nodded. “You should bring it next time if you play again. Pablo loves playdates.”
I nodded back, even though I was far from willing to commit to a repeat of this yet.
She eventually managed to lure Pablo away from my feet – of course I remembered the dog’s name, no problem – leading him through a door at the back of the room for his own bio break.
“How’s Chloe doing at the farm?” the bearded guy asked, tipping back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest. “She managed to completely redesign the business yet?”
I frowned. “Is that what she’s trying to do?”
The beard laughed, but the tall, blonde Ken doll next to him hit his arm. “He’s kidding,” the Ken said. “Chloe’s just very … magnetic.”
I scoffed, and the beard frowned slightly at me. “You disagree?”
I wasn’t sure – did I? Maybe there was something about her that made me want to give in a bit, but it certainly wasn’t irresistible. I was very adept at resisting, thank you very much.
“I didn’t say that,” I said. “We just haven’t worked together for very long.”
“Well, she’s great,” the Ken said. “You’re really lucky to have her. She’s got a lot of great ideas, and she’s been so excited about the job. Talking about it nonstop.”
I nodded; Chloe’s enthusiasm wasn’t up for question.
And, honestly, neither was her vision. I’d sat in on half of her meeting with Jen today as she’d gone through some of her longer-term ideas if her plan was successful, and they were really good.
Some I’d also had myself over the years – like laying a nice patio with some picnic tables – and some I wished I’d thought of first, like putting in a farm stand to sell honey and soap to the local community.
And, though I’d have assumed she would want Jen and me to sort the actual work out, she’d actually gone as far as to price up the goods through her contractor friend and give us a timeline for how long it would take her to build the patio herself.
Did I believe she’d ever carried a flagstone in her life?
No, I did not. But did I believe she would do it in the name of executing on an idea, and possibly to spite me if she sensed even the slightest lack of faith?
Yeah, I was starting to. Especially since she’d spent the rest of the day after the meeting hauling gravel in a wheelbarrow to fill in the balding spots on the driveway – no one had asked her to, she’d just noticed the spots on her walk in, seen the pile of spare gravel behind the warehouse, and asked if she could use it for that.
I’d felt bad enough for her after watching her push a few loads that I’d caved and showed her how to use the ATV and trailer.
“I’m beginning to understand that,” I said eventually, and the Ken and the beard seemed happy with this, nodding almost in unison. I chuckled to myself and turned back to the stuff on the table in front of me.
“So, tell me again what I’m supposed to do with all this?
” I asked Fatima, tapping the paper she’d given me.
There were so many different types of skills my character had – strength, deception, even acrobatics – and a bunch of stuff that meant absolutely nothing to me, like “Armor Class” and “Current Hit Points” and “Death Saves”.
“Do you know anything about the game already?” she asked.
I shook my head, and I must have looked terrified, because she gave me a pinched smile and patted my arm.
“It’s not as scary as it looks. Basically, we’re telling a story together. You guys say what you want to say and let me know what you want to do, and you’ll roll dice to see how successful you are. I have information about the world and the people and creatures you’ll encounter.”
I tried to look confident, but the best I could manage was to press my mouth into a thin smile.
“Everyone has the same list of skills,” she continued, “but everyone has different numbers based on the characters they created. Some are stronger, so they’ll have better numbers for things like athletics and strength-based attacks, but they’ll have lower numbers for other things.
You’re playing a monk, so you’re wiser and more dexterous, meaning you’re good at things like stealth and insight, and you can evade attacks better.
But your charisma is lower, meaning you’re less persuasive and less skilled at deception. ”
I tried to take in everything she was saying, but, as my eyes darted to each stat she pointed to, it was like I instantly forgot whatever she’d said just before.
“Do I need to act all of that out, then?”
“Not really,” she said. “It’s good to remember that you’re wise and stoic and sneaky, but it’s mostly to modify your dice rolls.
Any time you want to do something, I’ll have you roll one of these dice, probably the one with the duck, and the relevant number on the sheet will add to or take away from what you roll.
And your final number determines how well you succeed at what you’re trying to do. ”
“Okay, so, I don’t actually have to memorise any of this?”
She shook her head. “Absolutely not.”
I sank back into the chair with a relieved sigh. “Okay, that’s good.”
“Like I said, your character is stoic and sneaky. I did that on purpose so you wouldn’t have to roleplay much unless you want to. So just keep those traits in mind when you’re making decisions, and you should be okay. Anything else, just ask.”
I nodded. “I can do that.” I wasn’t sure how true that felt, but I could at least be stoic for a couple of hours.
“Oh, except, there’s one thing you should keep in mind when you meet the party,” she said, flipping the page over to the back – there was even more information here, un-believably – and pointed at a section that said “Background.” There was a note typed there:
Your character has been sent to protect and keep an eye on the daughter of a demon lord named Trulnuroth, a.k.a. the Prince of Pandemonium. You feel hostility towards this character because of her entitlement to the demon lord’s favour over you, despite your many loyal years of servitude.
I looked up at Fatima. “Which character is that referring to?” I asked, though part of me knew the answer.
Fatima nodded toward the doorway, and I looked over to see Chloe walking back into the room.