I Lost a Bet

I lost a bet.

It is Saturday night, I am pregnant, and I have to engage in, for a minimum of five hours, a session of Dungeons and Dragons with my 15 year old brother and his four creepy friends.

None of them can drive, so I must also double as their chauffeur. I will not cook for them, but I have to use my credit card to order pizza, Mountain Dew, and a case of Doritos.

I doubt I will be reimbursed any time soon.

My ankles are swollen and my breasts are unusually large. Too large for a gaggle of puberty enhanced freshmen boys not to notice. They turned on the heat in the basement so either I remove my cardigan before I spontaneously combust or I expose myself to their leering and lascivious stares to remain thermodynamically stable.

It is too hot for Victorian protocols. I doff the sweater, raise my arms to display the sweat matted hair, and then reveal the “Full Monty” of hemispheric stretch marks the world has ever seen.

Ignoring the chorus of “Ewwwww!”, I grab a handful of dice and begin creating my character.

Tonight, I will be Esmeralda, a Level 1 human mage, carrying a four-spell spell book, a dagger, an intelligence of 17, and a charisma of 5.

At least my character is not pregnant.

My brother instructs me on “rolling for initiative”, movement, and THACO (to hit armor class zero). My armor class is 10. I have two hit points. I have a dagger, but I couldn’t take down a kobald or orc if my life depended on it. However, my spell book includes “read magic”, “detect magic”, “magic missile”, and “sleep”. Foreshadowing note here. An intelligence of 17 works to one’s advantage (in the real world) if properly applied.

Our adventure began in a tavern where Esmeralda had to free herself from the clutches of a group of NPCs with a collective intelligence of 6 and raging hormones of 60.

The others in my party thought this would be funny. Esmeralda won the initiative and rolled a 20 (on a d20) for first strike. The DM (Dungeon Master) informed everyone I had decapitated the closest aggressor and wanted to know if I wanted to continue my barbaric ways.

I took the subtle clue and Esmeralda decided to depart the tavern with determined speed. My brother and his friends (by this, I mean, the rest of the party) made similar due haste.

Spicy Doritos seemed such a noteworthy prize for an ill-advised action and a few well-earned experience points.

I could get used to this game.

By 9pm, I had “slept” five orcs and our party’s half-elf thief/cleric. I am admonished by the DM in not addressing him properly as a cleric/thief. I am admonished by the half-elf cleric/thief for putting him to sleep with my spell. No experience points for whiners.

By 10pm, we incorporate the pizza into the adventures. Casting “magic missile” is easy with a slice of pepperoni in hand. Wielding a shield and a battle ax is not. Gaming with a DM who insists on reality produces one bitter, dead dwarven fighter. He gets his slice. I get his experience points.

It does not take long to understand that wizards/mages/etc are intentionally weak at Level 1 for a reason. With even a modicum of experience, a mage can quickly become quite formidable in a short period of time.

That is, if the mage with two hit points lives long enough. Most don’t.

However, Esmeralda is no ordinary mage. Check that. Esmeralda is an ordinary mage. However, Esmeralda was gaming with a very sympathetic DM.

Imagine this.

By 11pm, interest in keeping Esmeralda alive was waning with the Fighters, Cleric, Thief, and Cleric/Thief. I was a target to be eliminated ASAP. After memorizing a “detect magic” spell instead of a “sleep” spell, the game was afoot. In a library, the DM set the scene for a mage to disappear with no one the wiser. My party turned on me in an instant. The life of Esmeralda pivoted on a roll of initiative. Sans armor and a decent dexterity bonus, I won. In that instant, I read a scroll I discovered in a treasure chest during the last battle. The DM told Esmeralda the risk of casting a spell far above my experience. Considering the consequences, I proceeded without a care in the world.

Note to the reader. I am (in reality), a lawful good person. However, I chose “chaotic-neutral” for Esmeralda. Casting such a dangerous spell would keep her within the limits of such an alignment.

The look on the face of my brother when he realized I just cast a “Fireball” spell, indoors, was priceless. I can only assume the rest of the party reacted similarly.

When it was all said and done, Esmeralda killed herself and the party from the fireball and the collapse of the library. Not that I cared about my character. However, my brother and his friends now had to begin from scratch, with new characters, and few items. With this DM, it would take a month of Sundays to reach Level 2. With one suicidal action, I obliterated nearly two months of work these dateless anoraks (look it up, I had to) had acquired.

While moaning and groaning over the loss of their precious characters, I found the last unopened bag of Doritos and claimed it as my own. As the keeper of the gaming 5th food group, I held fast to distribution of said foodstuffs until the basement was clean, the garbage removed, and air refreshed to previous gaming festivity levels. I also demanded a degree of chivalric respect due the mother of the royal heir. All were in agreement except my brother. He wanted to call mom and dad for a ruling from their higher court of justice. A few cell phone photos to mom and dad reminding them of what a mess their house can become when left in the hands of a 15 year old and he immediately acquiesced.

The final tally for this exercise of power was south of $70 and I do believe if I had budgeted a C-note, I may have received a foot rub.

All in the guise of experience points for a mage in training.