Swords, Dragons and Diet Coke

“Hey guys! Look what I made!” Allan held out five little figures made of thin cardboard as he pushed his thick, black rimmed glasses up his nose. Four other teenage boys sat around a table in a dimly lit room, awaiting the arrival of their final player for the ultimate game of D&D; better known as Dungeons and Dragons.

The shortest one, Dustin, stood up and looked into Allan’s hand. “Dude,” Dustin chuckled, “What are those supposed to be? They look like miniature mud monsters from some cheesy horror film.”

Allan pouted at Dustin, “They are supposed to our characters for the game. The rule book said it was an option, so I decided to put them in. I also brought all my various notebooks and a few extra incase you need them… But I need sheet protectors, colored pencils, and graph paper. I have drafting tools for the mapping.”

Chris smiled from his seat, “I got you, oh powerful Dungeon Master.”

“Thanks, my elfin friend. I can always count on you,” Allan sat down at his usual chair pulled his various objects from his messenger bag.

“So,” the Dungeon Master stated when had he finished setting up, “Let us begin by welcoming our new comer, who I will dub the ‘Galstaff: Sorcerer of Light’. You have entered the door to the East and you are now by yourself, standing in the center of a dark room. There is the smell of Mildew sweeping around you.”

One guy had got up from the table and had walked into another room, “Where is the popcorn!?” he yelled from his place in the kitchen.

“It’s your house, figure it out!” Dungeon Master Allan called to the easily confused Derek.

Dustin, the Sorcerer of Light yelled, “I want to cast a spell!”

“Where’s the Diet Coke?”

“Where it always is, you fool! In your fridge! You’ve lived here for how many years now? Twelve?”

“I want to cast a spell,” Dustin said again, “I want to cast…” he gasped, “Magic missel!”

“Can I have a Diet Coke?”

Allan sighed, “Yes, you can.”

“I want to cast Magic Missel!” Dustin spoke louder than before.

“Am I in the room?”

“What room, Derek?” Allan called to the kitchen, becoming exasperated with all the questions Derek was asking.

“The room he’s casting all the spells in!”

“He’s not casting any spells, Derek.”

Dustin grimaced, “I would be if you would listen. I said I wanted to cast magic missel.”

“But there’s nothing to attack! Why would you need to cast Magic Missel?”

“I’m attacking the darkness?” Dustin said awkwardly. In truth, he really was just dying to cast some kind of spell and get some action going in this game.

Derek poked his head in the darker room, “Am I with him?”

Allan rolled his eyes, “No, you aren’t. You’re outside by the tavern.”

“Oh, cool! I get drunk! …I’m gonna get a Diet Coke!” Derek yelled, “Anybody else want one?”

Ignoring Derek, Allan continued, “Sorcerer, an Elf suddenly appears in front of you with gray hair and green eyes.”

“No, I have purple eyes.”

“Where does it say-” Allan started but Chris cut him off.

Chris smiled shyly, “Well, the card says I have green eyes but I decided I want purple eyes. It’s cool looking. You know, mystical and stuff.”

A loud burp was heard for the kitchen and then Derek was yelling from the kitchen, “Am I drunk? Roll and see if I get drunk!”

Allan rolled the dice and called back to Ray, “Yes, you do.”

“Roll again and see if I get girls! Because if there are girls, I want to do them!”

“Yeah, you do! Bring me a Diet Coke!”

“But I finished them all!”

“Fine,” the Dungeon Master sighed and ran his hand over his face before turning to the elf and Galstaff, “Uh, you can talk now if you want. Whatever.”

“Uh, hi,” Chris said awkwardly.

“Hey, I’m Galstaff, Sorcerer of Light,” Dustin said proudly.

The elf in front of Galstaff laughed heartily, “Then why’d you need to shoot Magic Missel?”

Derek came back from the kitchen right in time to hear what the elf character said to Dustin’s character, Galstaff and began laughing louder than anyone else. It was truly a good moment as Dustin sat there, befuddled and Chris smirked smugly at the said, Sorcerer of Light.

Derek took a seat with his snacks and almost empty Diet Coke can, “Isn’t it the dogs turn?”

Jeremy rolled his eyes and picked up his dice, “Yeah, yeah… I mean, woof, woof.” Unfortunately for Jeremy, he had found himself in the place of the faithful watch dog. This had become habit as Jeremy dropped his dice on the table.

Allan looked carefully at them before saying, “Jeremy, you begin to bark wildly at something in the darkness before fire shoots from the corner of the dark, cavernous room. You run to your master, Galstaff and hide behind him in fear after doing your job at watching for danger.”

The ginger haired man rolled his eyes once more, “Really?”

Allan glanced at him quickly. Jeremy spoke quickly, “Fine, okay.”

“Galstaff and elfin friend, when the light of the fire burst around you, in the corner you could see a giant, fire breathing Dragon and you look down in your hands to see swords that had magically appeared,” Allan held his hands up and wiggled his fingers for emphasis. If you think it looks like spirit fingers, you would be dead on. “On the ground in front of you is a charred scroll with your task on it. If you complete the task, you reach the next level and Jeremy can move up from a dog. Your task is to…” he paused for dramatic effect, “Slay the dragon.”

“Oh, I totally didn’t see that coming,” Chris rolled his eyes.

“I’m just excited I get to move up from a dog if we get the task done,” Jeremy bounced in his seat excitedly.

Dustin grinned wickedly at the aspect of destroying a mythical creature with his imaginative sword, “So, are we going to do this thing or what?”

At Dustin’s words, all five of them were plunged into the mind of the game; each one of their minds imagining the same image.

The elf bent over to pick of the scroll in front of Galstaff. Carefully, he opened it, avoiding the charred edges of the parchment, “In order to pass this task and move on to the next level, you must slay the dragon with your sword… and live.”

“Are you kidding? That’s it? Piece of cake.”

“Just one problem,” the elf said, “We don’t have swords.”

Galstaff smiled wisely, “But don’t we? Look in your hand, my friend and there you shall see your sword with witch you shall help me slay the beast.”

The elf looked down in his hand and sure enough, a sword swung from his fingers as he weighted it in his hands. It was a beautiful sword, carved with intricate patterns on the black and silver handle and the silver blade that was sharper than a razor could be against skin.

Galstaff reached back to pet his dog before looking at the elf, “Let’s do this thing.”

And they leapt in the air.