Chapter Text
Staff at hand, the Mage stepped forwards to face the trickster Wizard, the one who had kidnapped the princess and destroyed the kingdom. Years of traveling. Years of fighting. Years of scouring the world in search of the Princess Unitainabelle. If he could just generate enough power for his spell he could defeat him. It would all be over.
He could hear the Wizard cackling as the iron gate slammed shut behind him. He knew he was here.
“Do you really think you could defeat me?” The Wizard called out, his voice echoed through the dungeon mockingly. “Normally I’d crack open your skull and steal your intelligence! But I think eating your feeble brain would lower my IQ! So I’ll just stick to killing you!”
The Mage raised his staff, he was too wound-up to think of anything quippy to say back so he was going to go straight into his spell. That would be more epic than trying to respond to the Wizards taunts, right? Just say nothing and then destroy the Wizard like it was nothing? That’d be cool.
He whispered the incantation under his breath. Light shooting out from his staff. It was now or never. He pointed his staff at the Evil Annoying Probabilitor and-
4
He missed the Wizard’s face by several yards. His spell hit a nearby wall instead.
The Mage was dumbstruck and the Wizard just cackled louder.
“Oh hoo hoooo! Wow! I knew you were dumb but you’re really dumb!” Probabilitor said. Then raising his own staff he invoked a spell of his own and sent a bolt of green lightning down on the unlucky Mage.
~~~
“NO!”
Fiddleford laughed while Ford let his head fall on the table.
4… He only had to cast one final spell to end the game and he rolled a 4!
And Fiddleford could hardly catch his breath. Stanford had been so confident. So ready. Just to loose so horribly at the last second.
“Serves you right for getting so cocky!” Fiddleford said snorting.
Stanford lifted his head off the table at the dice in dismay. 1, 2 and 1. “So this is how it ends…” He said over dramatically and slumping back onto the table. “I can’t believe I did that! And now I’m dead…”
“Well you’re not dead yet, Stanford!”
Ford pulled his head up. “What? Probabilitor landed his third most powerful spell on me. Not even my king-grade dwarven armor could have withstood that!”
“No, no. I think you just barely survived it.” Fiddleford said. He readjusted his glasses and looked over his math from behind the Dungeon Master board. And as he looks back to Stanford, showing him his own math work, he gets back into character. “Mhmm. Yeah, you’re still alive. Weak. The fallen Mage looks up at the Wicked Wizard, Probabilitor the Annoying as he laughs… wickedly.”
He lets out a high-pitch cackle that makes Stanford grind his teeth. “What can I do?”
“The Mage is so tired… He can’t even lift himself up to stand again against Probabilitor. But his staff is still at hand. If he can find the will, he could cast just one more spell.”
Stanford frowned as he looked over his own quick-math. “Fiddleford are you sure? I used up nearly all of my magic to cast that last spell. I only have 12 points left!”
“A summoning spell is only 10 points.” Fiddleford offered.
“Call for help?” Stanford asked. “But Fiddleford, I have no one to summon. I left everyone in my party behind to go ahead on my own! No one would answer my call. I’m done for whether I use up my magic or not!”
Fiddleford just smirked as his looked at his story.
“What?” Ford asked. He hated it when Fiddleford knew something he didn’t and he’d just grin from behind his little Dungeon Master board. He could never tell if it was something good or bad heading his way when Fidds got like this.
Fiddleford said only two words that made Stanford want to tear out his hair.
“Arcbuckle Bumpterpuddingshire.”
Stanford groaned and put both hands to his hair. “The Orc raised my halflings?! Seriously?! He’s the only one!”
“You never officially took him off your party list. You only parted way temporarily in the Amethyst Forest of Violet Violence.” Fiddleford said beaming.
“Oh right. I remember now.” Ford said, he still felt a little bad for leaving the easy-going Orc back in the purple woods. He had been pretty strong and had a high level of stamina. But at the time Stanford had really wanted Kingsly, the dark-elf bandit with better espionage abilities but had a phobia of Halfling culture, in his party when they went to go ransack the ancient Amythyst castle. He lied to Kingsly about removing Arcbuckle from his party and while the two went to look for the castle he had Arcbuckle hide out in a nearby village. “And I never completely took him off my party list?”
“Nope. You told him you’d come back for him. And when you removed everyone from your party list outside of this dungeon you never mentioned his name. So he’s still there. And he’s been waiting for you to come back for him.”
Stanford pinched the bridge of his nose. “Wow. My Mage is an ass… I bet if I summon Arcbuckle now he’ll be pretty pissed at me.”
“Oh, definitely.” Fiddleford agreed, seeming to get happier the more Stanford was dismayed. “But what other choice do you have? You need help and he’s your final friend.”
He was right. Stanford had no choice left. He could either call Arcbuckle for help, or suffer alone and die.
So sighing in defeat, Stanford collected up his dice. “I use 10 magic points on a summoning spell. I call out to Arcbuckle Bumpterpuddingshire for help.”
It was a low-power spell so his dice easily made it work. And Fiddleford pulled out Arcbuckle’s abandoned piece as he narrated. And he set the little Orc next to Stanford’s little Mage.
“He answered your call. Slicing his way through time and space with his enchanted sword to find you here. Fallen and weak before Probabilitor. The evil Wizard who stole his adoptive family’s strawberries and blackberries. Leaving them in ruin. He is disappointed in his dear friend, the Mage, but that anger is nothing compared to the hellish inferno he feels towards Probabilitor the Annoying. What shall he do?”
“Arcbuckle hits the Wizard with everything he has.” Stanford says. “Whatever the most destructive attack his sword has.”
“And so. Arcbuckle charges at the wizard! ‘No one hurts my friends and no one hurts my family!’ he roared.” Fiddleford said, getting fully into character and giving Arcbuckle the deepest, raspiest voice he could muster before continuing to roll his dice behind the board. “And with one swing, he puts all his strength into his sword…”
“And…”
Fiddleford said nothing, just looking down at his dice and scribbling down some math to double check. Going purposefully slow, he picked up the Probabilitor model and the Orc piece.
“Oh for the love of- Stop trying to build up the dramatics and just say it!”
“Arcbuckle’s sword landed on Probabilitor the annoying’s neck. And with a sword so magical and an arm so mighty… Arcbuckle cut the Wizard’s head clean off and sent it flying into another dimension!”
Stanford got up from his chair shouting and scooping Fiddleford into a hug. “Yes! Oh thank god! He did it! We won!”
Fiddleford laughed as Stanford swung him around and set him back on the ground. “And so, Probabilitor has been defeated and the game is complete!”
“Excelsior!” Ford said, triumphantly. “Finally… that story felt like it went on forever.”
“It wasn’t that long actually. We just had to keep taking huge breaks in-between sessions.” Fiddleford said.
As Stanford calmed down, he frowned a little. “Does it have to end right there? You know, with Arc buckle killing Probabilitor… Cause my Mage character never got to apologize to him. And especially since he saved his life.”
Fiddleford, seeming to read his mind picked up the Mage and Orc pieces. “After the bloody, bloody magical carnage, Arcbuckle turned back to his friend, still on the brink of death on the ground. And…” He rolled his dice quickly and smiled at the result. “He used another teleportation spell to safely get his friend to a hospital back in his hometown.”
“And as he recovered, the Mage apologized to Arcbuckle.” Stanford continued. “He regretted the way he treated his friend and asked for forgiveness.”
“And he was easily forgiven. While Orc blood ran fiery through his veins he had been raised to be kind and merciful by his family. After all, the Mage was a dear friend to him so Arcbuckle let go of the grudge he once held against the Mage.” Fiddleford added on.
“And the Mage gave him the seeds! The seeds he bought while in the skeleton-demon marketplace. Their resistant to almost all forces of nature. My Mage gives Arcbuckle the seeds for his family’s farm! And-”
“I’ll need you to roll for dexterity.” Fiddleford said.
“Seriously? Technically, the games already over so-”
“Dexterity!”
Stanford sighed, rolling his dice. “Fine! I roll to see if I have enough dexterity to give my friend a bag of seeds. And…”
Stanford looks at his dice and Fiddleford slaps a hand over his mouth.
“… And my Mage drops the bag. The seeds spill out onto the hospital floor.”