Ravena sinks her teeth into the thigh of her adversary and tears the flesh from his body. She swallows the chunk in one gulp and dives in for more. “It’s been weeks since I dined so well,” she says, licking her swollen lips, her canines like stalactites in the cave of her gaping maw.
Chook lifts his blade high and swings it down onto the neck of the beast that growls, drooling acid onto Chook’s calfskin boots. The creature’s head tumbles down the stone steps, bouncing at the end to join the growing pile. “So far ’tis been just a drop. My blade thirsts for more.”
Above them both, on the landing that opens up within the ruined manor, Oosric wraps his fist in the filthy hair of the slave-girl, spreads his shrouds wide and forces the girl’s face onto his revealed…
“That’s bullshit, Ronnie. You can’t have a slave blow your character in the middle of a battle.”
“Why the hell not? The sight of blood arouses him.”
“Him or you?”
“Shut up, Bessie. Your female werewolf sure sounds like she’s enjoying her lunch. Maybe it’s you who has suppressed feelings of, I don’t know, cannibalism?”
“Gross, Ronnie. Take it back!”
Dungeon Master, Jerick, steepled his fingers, his mischievous grin grown wider with the row. He glanced to see how Chuck was reacting to the tiff. The other boy, whose character Chook, rarely deviated from a vanilla script, stared vacant-eyed across the basement, captured by some shadow behind the water-heater.
Jerick snapped his fingers at Chuck’s nose. “What’s with you tonight? ‘Your blade thirsts for more’, that’s all your blade ever does. Can’t you come up with something new?”
Bessie and Ronnie stopped arguing to listen to Chuck’s reply.
“Like what?” Chuck said, blinking.
“Hell, I don’t know. Punch the next one with your pommel. Or dodge ’em and kick ’em in the ass.” Jerick grabbed the twenty-sided die, shook it in his hand. “And Ron, can you quit trying to fuck every female NPC you find during the campaign?”
“Why? Oosric is a sexually repressed cleric. That’s who he is.”
“That’s who you are, you mean,” Bessie said. She and Jerick had been friends ever since she’d crippled a German Shepard that had cornered Jerick near their school bus stop. She’d been wearing her favorite riding boots, walked up behind the dog and kicked it in the ribs. It cried a pathetic howl and ran from sight.
“We’re all like that,” Ronnie told them. “Well, boys are. Girls, I read, don’t sexually mature until their twenties.”
Chuck came out of his daze. “Penthouse says that some have to wait until they’re forty.”
“Shit. Forty?” Ronnie said, shaking his head. “Sorry, Bess. We’ll all be old by the time…”
Jerick let the die drop and spin. “Will the three of you shut up and play?”
The die rolled to 6. “Six,” Jerick continued. “The battle resumes with six more denizens swarming in from the surrounding forest. They scramble up the stairs where… [tetrahedron roll to 3] Oosric has to combat the first one. And Oosric?”
“I know, I know, just kill ’em, don’t fuck ’em.”
“Well,” Bessie said, smiling, “unless your dick shoots silver bullets.”