We played on Thursday nights in one of the student lounges,
at the end of the hall so you had to know we were there to find us.
The group started with the three of us, Vagabond, Bad Boy,
and myself.
For those few hours each week we stepped outside of space
and time, living in a world of honor and glory, immortality for those who would
take it.
I wasn’t sure how the word spread, but it did.
The group grew from the three of us to half a dozen,
followed by almost a dozen more.
In a few month I was now in charge of twenty two players and
we had become an official club.
Marcus was the only player in the group who knew nothing of
the game, the only one who happened to be walking by and noticed all of us
laughing and rolling dice. He thought he had finally found one of the underground
gambling clubs on campus as it took a while to explain what we were doing.
He survived his first adventure and after that was hooked.
As a regular in the game, I couldn’t imagine him not being
there, so it was quite a shock when he told me that he was leaving at the end
of the semester. He was graduating early and heading back to Brazil, and had a
request that he wanted to run by me.
Certainly, it was possible, but without some serious preparation
and even with that a good amount of luck, the odds were stacked. If he wanted
to make it happen, I’d give him his shot, and so this is what I proposed.
We would keep playing for the next three months, giving him
a chance to build himself up, prepare and get ready. Real time, all the time I
could give him, and on the last game before he left, I’d make it happen.
But to be fair, it had to happen within the rules.
Given what he was asking, once it started there would be
nothing I could change, and he had to be good with that.
He agreed.
He asked that I didn’t tell anybody else, keep it secret
until the moment for the drama.
I agreed.
For those next three months in the game everything appeared
to be normal, but Marcus was secretly preparing, training, gearing up, and
leaving no detail unattended.
A few other long-term players in the game noticed that something
was going on, but they couldn’t figure out just what, and within the rules of
the game it was not my place to say anything.
That night after the game, on the eve of Marcus leaving, he
asked for the floor and I gave it to him.
He announced that he was leaving.
Heading back to Brazil, and who could say what glory awaited
for him in the future.
Right now all that mattered was the glory of here and now at
this table, glory that he was going to take by force and never be taken from
him, and he wanted to know if anybody wanted to join him.
We were no back in-game and in-character as he explained to
the party what his plans were and where he was going, and what he had been
preparing for all these months.
Shock and disbelief ran through the group.
Was it even possible?
Confidently, Marcus told the group he had accounted for
every possibility, every equation, every angle.
The veteran players of the group now understood what he had
been doing, but their silence confirmed their doubts.
Before any responses were given to Marcus I stepped in with
some clarifications.
Full rules would be in effect.
No exceptions.
Everybody was welcomed to stay for the encounter, but only
those who went with Marcus could speak.
No outside advice or help would be permitted or allowed.
Out of the group of almost twenty players that night, only three
others stepped through the portal with Marcus, who seemed unfazed.
He must have understood what he was asking others to risk,
the real time loss of their character, months and for some players years of real time play in the game was
the through going through all our minds.
Mine included.
There on the other side of the portal waiting for them was
the Queen of Dragons in all her glory.
She was waiting for them.
Did Marcus really think his action in the game would go
unnoticed?
That the crimes and atrocities he committed against her subjects
would go unheeded?
That the treasure he stole from her would just be allowed?
Raising his sword to her in the salute of his order Marcus charged.
Blasts of lightning smashed into him.
Fire washed over him.
Frost tried to freeze him in place.
Was the Queen amused, or perhaps surprised?
It was his armor.
Crafted to match that of the Queen, matched so it would
repel her attacks, which left only her formidable command of magic.
Marcus had accounted for that also, nullifying it for a very
limited time, and in that time he attacked with his sword which the Queen had
not accounted for.
Flying off her throne she smashed into the group scattering
the players before grabbing Marcus and lifting him up to her height.
Or had she?
With a strength beyond that of any mortal, she ripped of his
sword arm and threw him down to the ground.
His armor broken, torn, and now unable to withstand her
attacks.
Somehow still alive, Marcus drew his short sword and charged
again.
The table was silent for some time.
Who knew what to say as Marcus got up from his chair as
everybody knew what was coming next.
Full rules would be in
effect.
No exceptions.
Folding his character sheet in half, he proudly tore It up
and scattered the squares across the table.
I didn’t know what to expect next, as my mind searched to come
up with some sort of explanation or even an apology.
I didn’t have to come up with or say anything, Marcus and
the table erupted in shouts of glory, and Marcus was beyond happy.
He died in the service of his order, striving for great deeds,
and although he failed, how planted the seed of what one day could be possible.
He could now leave for Brazil.
Marcus wasn’t fighting a dragon.
He was fighting the moment of leaving.
And he won.
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