Hear No Evil - Part One

The rogue’s dagger slashed at the priest’s throat, thinning the hairs just off the skin of his windpipe but narrowly missing the vital flesh. In return, the priest’s mace lunged forward, collapsing the attacker’s skull inwards. Behind the holy man, a thief contended with two more of the scoundrels, desperately trying to deflect the burly men’s slashes with his own short sword. A good roll of the dice, and his metal descended into one of the villain’s stomachs, leaving him just one more foe to face. Despite this, the fight seemed hopeless; he had already fell victim to numerous attacks, and his survival thus far was a miracle of luck. More of their enemies arrived with each passing second, and none in the party seemed capable of continuing for much longer. The priest’s spell making abilities were long gone; his mana depleted within the first wave of the attack.

Running in and out of the trees, a ranger shot at the aggressors with a bow almost the size of himself, his arrows always finding their marks despite his urgent migrations. The deadly wooden instrument vibrated with a satisfied hum as it felled man after man. The ranger’s green wrapping camouflaged into the foliage, rendering him almost invisible as arrow after arrow found their home in the rogues’ sinews. Still, with every passing moment the enemies closed in on the hunter, getting nearer and nearer to ending his life.

Perhaps a hundred yards away, a knight found himself swarmed by the rogues. His armour glinted in the sunlight with his every movement, its radiant silver and gold like a beacon in the dense forest. A pool of blood had formed beneath his feet; mostly theirs, but some of his own as well. Armed with a war-axe the size of a man, the towering paladin swatted at the assailants like they were flies, flattening them underneath sharp steel as each of their screams of agony announced triumph after triumph. Despite this, their attackers were persistent, seemingly undeterred by the ceaseless felling of their comrades. They surrounded the nobleman, grinding down his health. The good rolls kept coming, but it almost didn’t matter in the face of this resistance; eventually, the knight would perish.

Hiding behind a boulder, the three princesses watched with growing horror as metal edges sank into their protectors’ flesh, bringing forth fountains of red liquid. The priest was the first to perish, a blade from behind sunk into the poor man’s spine, ending his valiant struggle. The thief was next, surrounded, all it took was one dagger stuck into his flesh, and the deed was done. Not far away, the knight suffered an incision to his left knee, forcing the aristocrat to fall to the ground, where the bandits covered him like ants atop a bread crumb, their daggers driving at every gap in his thick armour. Finally, the ranger was similarly enveloped by too many enemies for even the most skilled of fighters, and he too died by a thousand cuts, leaving the princesses, their charges, to unknown fates.

Sitting at the table, the four boys stared at each other with utter incomprehension; that fight had been unwinnable, there must have been ten enemies for each one of the warriors. For their part, Sarah and Martha looked similarly shocked by the ignominious display of defeat. With every roll of the dice, be it a parry or an attack, the young men had had lady luck on their side, and yet it had all been for nought, in the end they were lost to an insurmountable enemy. Typically, after a massacre such as that, at least one person could be blamed for their decisions, but in this case not even one of them could fault another.

Two hours earlier…

“Alright!”

Emma’s harsh voice sprung over the chattering friends at the table, pulling them into an immediate silence whilst they waited for her to announce the new campaign.

“Allow me to introduce your characters. Owen, you are to be Sir Roderick of Polinskia, the right hand of the king and most famed knight in all the known world.”

“Hell yeah,” replied the arrogant boy as the character sheet was passed to him.

“We’re not making our own characters?” Isaac inquired.

“No, we are not. And you are next; the King’s personal priest and cleric, Loman, celebrated for his celibacy and knowledge of religious knowledge.”

“Wait what? How come Owen’s a knight and I’m a chaste priest?”

“I don’t know, Isaac, I think she at least got the celibate bit right,” Owen’s ever annoying face had never been so incredibly punchable.

“Isaac, they’re just roles. Totally random.” This calmed Isaac a tad, although he could have sworn a small smile emerged across her face whilst she placated her indignant boyfriend.

Ben was made to be a thief, named Limick, caught by the king’s guards the day before in the palace attempting to steal some jewellery and now languishing in the royal dungeons. Lastly, Mike was the King’s most trusted hunter, Freel, a ranger that could shoot his bow accurately over great distances and move through the forest totally undetected.

The plot of Emma’s campaign was a simple one; the kingdom of Polinskia had been attacked by unidentifiable invaders and had caught the capital city by surprise. With his last dying breath, the king commanded Freel, Sir Roderick, and Loman, his most trusted men, to take his three daughters, Emma, Sarah, and Martha, away to safety. In the confusion, Freel had escaped his imprisonment, and with no better options, accompanied the King’s servants.

Isaac was loathe to admit it, but Emma was a better dungeon master than he ever was. Every challenge invited discussion between the six players, every fight seemed to conform to their characters perfectly. For their part, although they were new to Dungeons and Dragons, Martha and Sarah had no difficulty picking up the gist of the game, allowing the group to quickly complete tasks.

Emma’s in-game characters felt incredibly alive, the setting was interesting and her vocal impressions surprisingly good. The boys were on their best behaviour as well, the presence of the three scantily dressed beautiful girls were a sudden but all-too welcome change to the usual DnD experience, and not one of them was going to mess it up with a crude joke or lude suggestion. Ben was always staring longingly at Martha as if the pretty ginger might disappear if he took his eyes off her, although the shy redhead didn’t seem to mind his attentions. Mike was more discreet in his yearnings, but his eyes’ frequent dashes to Sarah clearly revealed his infatuations. Owen, for his part, allowed his pupils to wander lewdly over all the princesses’ lithe bodies, much to Isaac’s annoyance.

As things progressed, laughter and banter filled the basement walls; it was a good thing Isaac’s parents were away, or else they’d have been told off for their nerdy ruckus. The unlikely group was in its early stages of becoming a band of friends, and not just within the world of Dungeons and Dragons. Everything was going well, of course, until the rogues showed up; their final obstacle in their pursuit of safety.

Everyone had sat in the quiet after their humiliating defeat, all contemplating what occurred. It hadn’t been a fair fight, that was obvious; had Emma wanted them to lose?