The Game Masters of Garden Place Page 8

  Ralph paused.

  He’d never liked Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. They’d read it in school, and he always thought it was a little cheesy that after pages and pages of poor starving Charlie not getting anything, he magically found one of the golden tickets. It all seemed too corny to him.

  But here he was. He knew before he’d even opened it that he was having his own Charlie Bucket moment.

  He carefully peeled the paper away to reveal the golden d20.

  “So you think it’s real gold?” Noel was weighing it in his hand. “You know, we can find out. My dad has stuff at the house we could use to test it.”

  “I doubt it,” said Ralph, eyeing the front door for the thousandth time in the last five minutes. It was now twelve-fifteen, and so far only Noel had shown up.

  Ralph glanced at the coffee table in front of him. He’d wanted everything to be perfect. With GG gone, he’d moved the game to their spacious living room on the parlor floor instead of the cramped area downstairs. He’d gotten everyone’s favorite snacks and arranged them in bowls (except for the red licorice Jojo loved, which he had carefully placed in what he hoped was a particularly festive arrangement on a plate in front of where she usually sat).

  “Did anybody say anything to you?” asked Ralph.

  Noel carefully put the golden die down and thought. “Well, Jojo told me this was all a waste of time and how annoying you were in front of her friends. Does that count?” He said it with broad smile, as if Ralph would somehow find this funny. Noel just didn’t get it, so there was no use being annoyed with him. He just told it like it was.

  “That’s ridiculous. I was just standing there waiting for them to finish. And she’s the one who wanted to talk to me.”

  “Maybe your just standing there was what was so annoying,” said Noel, taking one of the licorice vines.

  “That’s for Jojo,” Ralph said. “I got the corn chips for you.”

  Noel regarded the licorice. “I don’t see her name on it. Anyway, she might not come, so what’s the difference?”

  Ralph slumped into his chair at the head of the table, where he had hoped to lead his group into an adventure so compelling they’d demand to keep going. But that meant they had to show up.

  The doorbell suddenly began frantically ringing. Ralph leapt up and tore open the door. To his vast relief, Jojo pushed past him, closely followed by Persephone and Cammi, who looked even more distraught than usual. “I’m so, so sorry, Ralph. Jojo and Perseph were at a sleepover at my house and we kind of got up late. And then my mom couldn’t find her keys, and—”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Ralph assured him. “I’m just glad you got here.”

  Jojo was texting someone already. Ralph had a bad feeling about this. He considered giving her some licorice as a peace offering. But that wasn’t right, because they weren’t fighting. At least, as far as he knew. But then, he didn’t think he had been annoying, so what did he know?

  It was worth a try. “Umm…Jojo? Look! I got you licorice! This is the kind you like, right?”

  Jojo glanced up from her phone. “Um…liked. I’m kind of off processed sugar right now. I need to eat healthy for meets.”

  “That’s funny, I saw you sharing a bag of gummy bears with Oona and Luna in study hall,” Noel said, clueless as always.

  “Those weren’t gummy bears, Noel. They were carrot sticks.”

  “Yeah, right. Carrot sticks.” Noel laughed.

  “They were. Are you calling me a liar?” Jojo looked like she was ready to throw her phone at Noel’s head.

  “Jojo, chill out. Noel is just being Noel,” Ralph said. “If you say they were carrot sticks, they were carrot sticks.”

  Jojo went back to her phone.

  Cammi and Persephone were talking about an episode of High School a Cappella, a show they were both devoted to. It was all about high school drama and who had a crush on whom, and then at some point there would be a musical number and all the kids would start singing. Ralph had tried to get into it, but it all seemed kind of silly to him.

  Cammi and his girlfriends would watch the episodes over and over again, quoting lines from the show and even writing stories about the characters falling in love with each other, sometimes boys with boys and girls with girls. Ralph thought an orc falling in love with a human (like Persephone’s character’s parents) was a lot more interesting.

  Persephone noticed the golden die. Her eyes lit up. “That’s so pretty! Did you get a new set?”

  “Yeah, but that one is special,” said Ralph.

  “Pick it up,” Noel suggested. “We were wondering if it was real gold.”

  Persephone cradled it in her two tiny hands. “Wow. It’s really heavy. Where did you get it?”

  “It’s quite a story,” Ralph began, relishing the moment. Even Jojo had looked up from her phone. “You see—”

  “Warwick Wycroft’s son sent it to him!” Noel broke in.

  “What?” asked Cammi. “That’s amazing!”

  Ralph glared at Noel. “Can I please tell it?”

  “You always take too long with your stories,” said Noel, in his Noel way.

  “Anyway. I was online and registering for the RoDCon—which I asked all of you to go to with me, but anyway—and there was this picture in the corner of the screen of this weird guy dressed all in black with long hair—”

  “Warwick Wycroft’s son,” Noel added helpfully.

  “Fine, you tell it.”

  “No, we want to hear you tell it,” Persephone insisted.

  “I thought I always take too long,” Ralph groused.

  Jojo put her phone away. “Just tell your stupid story and let’s get going.”

  “Okay. So this envelope came in the mail with a free set of dice. Of course, I need another set of dice like I need another sister, but—”

  “Get to the point!” said Jojo through gritted teeth.

  “Sorry. So anyway, there’s a piece of paper with a picture of the same guy, and it turns out because we’d gotten to the sixth scepter we were eligible to get—shut up, Noel—one of seven gold dice hidden among probably a hundred boxes they sent out, and if you get one, they fly you to RoDCon to play at a special game. So I waited until I came home and then—”

  “Wait, so who was in the picture?” asked Cammi.

  “Andy Wycroft, Warwick Wycroft’s son!” said Ralph.

  “You didn’t say that,” Noel said. “All you said was—”

  “I thought it was obvious,” Ralph said, closing his eyes.

  “He could have been just one of the organizers,” Jojo said, taking a piece of the red licorice. Ralph didn’t say anything.

  “I thought you weren’t eating those,” said you-know-who.

  “Shut up, Noel.” Jojo glared.

  “Can I finish my story?” said Ralph. “I said he’d invited me, remember?”

  “Actually, Noel said that,” Persephone reminded him.

  “I went upstairs,” Ralph pressed on, determined to get to the punch line, “and after dinner, I opened the package.”

  “Is that part relevant?” asked Jojo, who was now on her third Red Vine.

  “At least he didn’t tell us what he had for dinner,” Persephone said.

  “That’s true,” said Cammi.

  Ralph grabbed the die. “Forget it. You guys clearly don’t care.”

  “Stop being dramatic,” said Persephone, which was enough to make everyone else crack up, considering the source.

  “I mean it. Nobody wants to be here but me.” Ralph could feel his lower lip starting to tremble. He really didn’t want to cry in front of his friends, but it had finally dawned on him.

  Cammi immediately rushed over and hugged him. Which only made things worse. Now he was taking deep breaths and could feel the tears for
ming in his eyes. He’d worked so hard on the adventure for today, all for nothing.

  Even Jojo softened. “Ralph…RPG, don’t be silly. Come on. We want to be here….It’s just…”

  “Oh please. You want to go shopping with your real friends,” Ralph said, realizing how stupid it sounded when he said it out loud.

  Jojo set her jaw in a firm line. “Ralph. I’m not going to apologize for having other friends. So does Cammi. And Persephone.”

  “And me too! Lots of other friends. I even have friends online. There’s a kid who lives in Holland I met while playing Rocket Fighter,” Noel added, helpful as always.

  Persephone handed Ralph a tissue and he wiped his eyes and blew his nose. “I know. I just…wanted it to be important to you guys, and—”

  “We’re here, aren’t we?” said Jojo. “Let’s just play the game already.”

  They gathered around the table.

  “I never finished my story,” Ralph said.

  “Oh, for crying out loud!” screamed Jojo.

  “I want to hear it,” said Cammi softly.

  “Me too. But the quick version,” said Persephone. “Like one sentence.”

  “Fine. I opened it up and after unwrapping the other six dice, I ended up unwrapping this one and finding out I was a winner.”

  There was a pause.

  “Wow, that was pretty undramatic,” Noel said.

  Cammi jumped in. “I think it’s cool. You’re going to play at RoDCon! I wish I could go!”

  “Me too!” said Jojo.

  “You are such a liar,” Ralph said, grinning.

  “Okay, so I don’t want to go all that much,” Jojo admitted.

  “I would go if we didn’t have rehearsal,” said Persephone, “just to see all those people dressed up in their costumes.”

  Everyone settled in.

  “Shouldn’t we remind ourselves of where we are in the story?” asked Cammi.

  “Of course. So we are…deep beneath the mountain Morgorath, within the ancient stones of the Temple of Kamach’Ldar, and just as the Kreel army was defeated, the Komach’Kreel appeared.”

  Four faces leaned in. Ralph felt the familiar rush of the game come back as they assumed their characters.

  “You have never seen anything like it. Monstrous, towering twelve feet above you and encased in some sort of enchanted armor, the giant demon unleashes his barbed tail and swipes at you.”

  Ralph turned to Jojo. Her eyes were shining. “What do you do?”

  “I strike at his tail with my sword,” Jojo said confidently.

  “Jandia takes her sword in two hands and swings the mighty Strach’Klan, already stained with the blood of dozens of Kreel dead. Roll for damage,” Ralph instructed, to discover what, if anything, the blow had done.

  Jojo rolled her own d20. Her face lit up. “Eighteen!”

  “The blow glances off the scales of the monster’s tail, leaving no mark.”

  “What?” protested Jojo. “I rolled an eighteen! That should have cut the tail off!”

  “It can’t have left no damage,” added Cammi. “She’s a Level Twenty warrior.”

  “Jandia’s broadsword should have been able to take down any monster with a roll like that,” said Persephone.

  Noel had snuck a glance at the notes Ralph was using. “Wow. Guys, I don’t think there’s any way we can defeat that thing. Its numbers are way too high.”

  “So what do we do?” asked Cammi.

  “That is completely unfair,” said Persephone. “We have to be able to defeat it.”

  “I’m sorry, guys,” Ralph said. “I think Noel is right. I didn’t write these stats. They came straight from Warwick Wycroft. And it’s the Komach’Kreel’s turn.”

  “So we’re just going to all die here?” wailed Persephone.

  “In all our years playing, we’ve never had a TPK,” said Noel grimly.

  That was true. In RoD, a TPK, or total party kill, was the worst thing that could happen. It was the end of the game. Occasionally in a game, one member might lose enough health points to die along the way, but as a cleric with special healing skills, Ralph was always able to bring them back to life. But this monster was too powerful for even his healing abilities.

  As he checked the monster’s stats again, Ralph saw a small footnote, marked with a light golden z. He’d read this page a dozen times, and he could have sworn it hadn’t been there before.

  “Hold on a second, guys,” Ralph said. “There’s something else here.”

  Ralph looked at the end of his pages where the notes were. He got to the last page, where the note was y. Then as he rubbed the page, as if they were stuck together, a thin last page pulled itself away from the others. On it, in a different font, was written:

  An alcove appears behind you.

  Ralph read this out loud to the group.

  “We run behind the alcove!” shouted Noel as the others nodded.

  Ralph rolled the dice for the monster. It came up 2. “The Komach’Kreel is temporarily confused. It can smell you, hear your heartbeats. It comes closer….”

  He turned to Noel. “So what are you going to do? Bram?”

  Noel thought for a moment. “Can I give my turn to the wizard?”

  Ralph frowned and checked the rule book. “I guess so. If you want.”

  Noel whispered something in Cammi’s ear.

  Cammi nodded and smiled. “I cast the Portal Awakening spell. It takes us to another dimensional plane.”

  Ralph checked his book. The Portal Awakening spell was a brilliant move.

  “Gerontius casts Portal Awakening. The very air around you shifts. If the spell is successful, you will be taken to another world, where who knows what mysteries and dangers might await. For this spell, the GM rolls the dice.”

  Ralph picked up the d20.

  They all knew what was coming next. It was a little ritual Declan had taught them. Before he would roll as GM, he would say a Latin phrase that was first spoken by Julius Caesar before he crossed the Rubicon River and faced his destiny to challenge the Republic and become emperor. Alea iacta est. It translates to “The die is cast.” Meaning that there is no going back.

  As Ralph rubbed the golden d20 in his hands, it seemed to vibrate. Pulsate.

  “Alea iacta est,” intoned Ralph “The die is cast!”

  He threw the golden die onto the table, where it rolled slowly and came to a stop.

  Twenty.

  “A portal has opened, and…,” Ralph began, but stopped.

  “Do you feel that?” asked Noel.

  “How can we not?” demanded Jojo.

  The entire room seemed to be vibrating.

  “Are they doing construction outside?” Cammi suggested. When they were working on the street, the apartment did often shake. But this was different.

  “What’s that?” asked Persephone.

  There was a low humming, and the room was definitely shaking. The air around them shimmered as the lights seemed to grow brighter and brighter.

  “What’s happening?” yelled Noel, his voice almost drowned out by a sound that replaced the humming. The new sound was like nothing they’d ever heard, a tearing apart, a blazing combination of cries and roars and rushing air pulling at them, getting louder and louder.

  The soulless yellow eyes of the Komach’Kreel darted about, the black slits of its pupils taking in the carnage of the ruined temple. Bodies of dead Kreel littered the altar.

  Hissing, it prowled the ancient structure, knocking the fluted columns over with each twitch of its massive barbed tail.

  The adventurers huddled in a nearby alcove, watching it. Jandia Ravenhelm had lost her bloodlust, leaving her sullen and confused. She had fought and defeated enemies of all shapes and sizes, but this creature was unlike anyt
hing she had ever encountered. She barely registered Torgrim’s low mutterings as he cast his most powerful healing spell on her battered arm.

  Softly, Mirak was singing a melody that both soothed Jandia and helped speed the cleric’s spell. She watched as the muscles and sinews of the barbarian warrior’s arm knit together and the skin formed over it. It was extraordinary. But right now, it came as more of a relief. If they were to have any chance at all to destroy the demon, they would need Jandia’s strong arms and two-handed blade.

  As the sounds of the creature neared, the elf and halfling were deep in counsel together. “There is great sense in what you propose, Halfling.” Gerontius Darksbane knelt to speak softly to Bram. “But there is great danger as well.”

  “It is too powerful to fight,” hissed Bram.

  Jandia grunted, her healing complete. She gripped her sword, testing her newly healed bicep. “You do good work, Cleric,” she allowed. “I am ready to bring down the enemy or die in the trying.”

  “You shall do no such thing,” Gerontius said as he strode over and put a hand on Jandia’s sword arm. “We have an idea.” He gestured to his spellbook.

  “Whatever you have in mind, please enlighten us,” said the bard, pulling an arrow from her quiver, “as the time approaches for action. The creature is only a few steps away.”

  “And we have no avenue of escape,” added Torgrim.

  “A fancy way of saying we are trapped,” chuckled Bram, “but traps can be thwarted.”

  Gerontius ignored them, paging through the well-worn pages of his spellbook, humming slightly to himself.

  “He has the air of someone with all the time in the world,” growled Jandia, “when our lives could well be measured in seconds.”

  There was a burst of flame. The Komach’Kreel was growing quite near.

  Gerontius held out his hand. “Take hold, Barbarian. And each of you do likewise. We must all keep this connection, no matter what happens.”

  Torgrim grabbed Jandia’s hand in his and extended his other to Bram, who took it greedily and turned to Mirak, who looked down at the halfling’s outstretched offering.