AUSTIN, Texas, January 15, 2010 (WSFB-AC) -
Four young men sit in a dimly lit room. A variety of brightly colored dice are visible on the tabletop. The smell of cheap pizza hangs in the air, spiked with a faint tang of stale sweat. At one end of the table sits Jim, a clean shaven young man in a polo shirt, an assortment of worn and weathered looking books laid out before him. Irregularly spaced around the table are Ben (Deathklok t-shirt, scruffy beard), Robbie (flannel button-up, goatee, wire-framed glasses), and Ed (muttonchops, Viking helmet, holding a plastic battle axe).
“As the rain falls softly on your cloaked shoulders,” says Jim, “you look upward and note the name of the tavern standing before you: The Wanton Wench.”
Ed leaps to his feet. “Aha! Sounds like the right sort of place for Slagathor to dip his wick!”
Ben and Robbie exhale in frustration, in perfect unison. “What?” says Ed.
“Dude, come on. Not this shit again” Robbie answers. “Could we skip the whole ‘Ed tries to get Slagathor the Barbarian Laid’ episode tonight? I need to be home by 11:00.”
Ed shoots Robbie a challenging glance. “What can’st take precedence over Slagathor satisfying the pleasures of …”
“OH COME ON!” shouts Ben, slamming his fist on the tabletop. The dice rattle and bounce about.
“Dude, please,” continues Robbie. “Like you’d have a fuckin’ clue what to do. You haven’t touched a girl below the shoulder since you finished breastfeeding. Give it up already.”
Ed stands, brandishing his plastic battle axe menacingly. “MY LUSTS WILL NOT BE DENIED! SLAGATHOR WILL SPREAD HIS SEED, LEST…”
Ben throws his hands up is a gesture of surrender. “Dude, whatever. I’ll be in the kitchen eating Ho-Ho’s. Call me when this shit’s done.”
Jim looks up, concerned, and says in a conciliatory tone “Wait, Ben, what’s Melfollion doing while Slagathor…”
“Nothing!” answers Ben. “Drinking. Diddling my bunger with my wand. Anything to avoid this bullshit. Let me know when we can fight something.” With an exasperated sigh Ben turns and leaves the room.
Robbie eyes Ed with disdain. “Look, just make it fast, OK? And spare us the colorful details Jim. Parinofore will be hanging at the bar with Melfollion, trying not to catch a case of the Hyborean Clap from the stools.” With that he leans back in his chair, arms crossed, and waits.
Ed eyes Jim haughtily. “I enter the Wanton Wench….” Robbie snickers, and Ed, ruffled, continues “Errr … I stride with brazen arrogance into the tavern. Tell’st me, good gamemaster, of the variety of harlots available to me.”
Jim rolls some dice and replies “There are three women. And one dude.”
“Describe the wenches to me, good sir.”
“They are all beautiful, aged 18-23, with ample bosoms, supple hips, and lips that look certain to taste of mead.” Rolling some dice, Jim continues “They are all uniformly uninterested in you.”
Robbie laughs. “Well, Ed, this sounds pretty familiar …”
“SHUT UP ROBBIE! Errr … ummm … I mean quietest thou tongue, Parinofore, or I shall cut it out’st. I amble casually up to the first comely maiden and jingle my purse full of gold coins.”
Jim rolls the dice once more. “She continues to ignore you. However, the well built, handsome man beside her notices the sound though, and arches his eyebrow at you while licking his lips.”
Robbie whoops excitedly. ”Ben, get in here! Slagathor’s gonna get cornholed!”
“ROBBIE, CUT THE SHIT! I tell the guy to back off. And come off of it, man: She’s a goddamn whore, I have money, she should be interested!”
“Ed, stay in character.”
Ed looks crestfallen. “Oh. Uhh, I say ‘Fair maiden, I have much gold. And the enormous purple headed beast of my ancestors dwelling in the demesne between my thighs…’”
Robbie stands, a look of disgust on his face. “Ohferchrissakes….” He turns and storms out of the room.
Ed continues, “Will thou’st take my coin … and my seed?”
Jim rolls some more dice. “She says ‘Sure.’ She leads you upstairs to a small room, with a filthy mattress, lit by a single candle.”
Ed eyes Jim with suspicion. “Jim, she’s not gonna be a succubus again, is she?”
Rolling the dice, Jim answers “Nope.”
“A vampire?”
More die rolls. “Nope.”
“She not gonna sprout talons and …”
From the kitchen Robbie scream “DUDE SHE’S A FUCKIN’ CHICK. I KNOW YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT THAT IS, BUT WOULD YOU JUST PRETEND TO KNOW WHAT TO DO SO WE CAN GET ON WITH THE FUCKIN’ GAME?”
“FINE!” shouts Ed. “I slowly unlace the back of her…”
The dice clatter on the table. ”OK, she’s naked.”
Ed looks perturbed, but continues. “Oh. Err … OK. I caress her back and then slide my finger …”
Jim shoots Ed a warning glare. ”Dude, let’s just keep it to the basic stuff. You know, ‘I get on top of her,’ ‘I do my thing,’ and so on, OK? My mom’s right upstairs — I don’t need the ‘you boys were watching PORNOS weren’t you?’ stinkeye again.”
“Oh, OK. I … uhhh … ungird … my loins and begin to get on top of her.”
Dice click and Jim responds “She grunts.”
“Grunts? How? Is it a good grunt?”
“Dude, it’s a ‘You’re a 285 pound hairy barbarian who hasn’t bathed in a month’ grunt. Interpret that how you will.”
Ed looks nonplussed. “OK, I … start to … you know. Do my thing.”
Jim rolls the dice and, after a brief pause, replies “Oh …. heh.”
“What?”
“I’m sure it’s nothing.”
“DUDE! WHAT?”
With a grin, Jim says “She pats you on the back and says ‘OK, we’re done! 5 pieces of the coin of the realm, fine sir!” Jim struggles mightily to wipe the smirk from his own face. And fails mightily.
“Wait! I didn’t …”
“Well, yeah, you did. A bit quickly.”
Ed glances down at the table, then looks to Jim with hope. “Well, did I … you know … enter the gates?”
“Sorry buddy, not this time.”
To be continued-eth….
