The Kobold Wizard's Dildo of Enlightenment +2 Page 2

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  Aaron’s mother always forces him to let his little sister play Dungeons and Dragons with him and his friends. If he doesn’t let her play she throws a temper tantrum. The mother, not wanting to be disturbed while reading the latest selection from Oprah’s book club, just lets the girl have her way. Jenny is the louder whiner of the two. It’s just easier to let the more troublesome one do what she wants.

  When the bard’s song is finished, the woman introduces herself.

  “My name is Robyn Woodsong,” the bard says in a Cinderella voice. “I play pretty music for all the happy woodland creatures.”

  It is definitely Jenny playing this character. She has been magic-users, elves, druids, and even a mermaid with angel wings in the past. Now she is a bard. Aaron most likely explained the bard class as a type of magical singer. Since Jenny has recently gotten into the school choir, I bet she really liked the idea of playing a bard. She probably even wrote songs for her character to sing.

  Writing and singing songs is the type of thing Jenny thinks is fun about playing Dungeons and Dragons, not going on quests and killing monsters. That’s probably why the bard’s song went on for so many rounds. She would have thrown a tantrum if she didn’t get to sing the entire thing.

  Jenny’s characters are always the same: annoying and useless. It’s a good thing they never last very long.

  Robyn Woodsong sits down at our table next to me, but I don’t say anything to her. My player purposely has me ignore her so that she will get bored with playing D&D and go do something else.

  “This minstrel has brought news of a grand quest!” Dwarfy says, slamming his axe handle into the table.

  Then he grabs a faerie out of the air and bites its head off, causing a thin fountain of blood to splash down his beard. He spits the head out into the bard’s long golden hair.

  Dwarfy continues, “Two elf wenches are looking for sturdy warriors such as ourselves to help them loot a nearby ruins!”

  Robyn Woodsong cries as she pulls the faerie head out of her locks of hair. We ignore her whining.

  “Let us go speak to them!” Then The Dwarf Lord smashes the table in half with his axe.

  Todd Donnelly, who plays The Dwarf Lord, is Aaron’s hyperactive 12 year old brother. When he plays Dungeons and Dragons in real life, he usually acts out every single thing his character does. Just now, when The Dwarf Lord smashed the table in half, Todd had karate chopped the table as hard as he could with his whole arm, causing pewter figures and twenty-sided dice to fly onto the floor. He even made the sound effect for the table breaking apart, with his lips pursed, spraying spit all over the maps and character sheets.

  Then the dwarf raised his battle axe over his head. “Goblins beware! You are about to taste the steel of The Dwaaaaaaaaarf Loooooooord!”

  This is his catch phrase. He says it whenever he starts a battle, no matter what kind of monster he is fighting, and he doesn’t care that it wastes a whole round in order to say it.

  The Dwarf Lord leads us upstairs to a table with two elf women. One looks to be some kind of rogue and the other is some kind of magic-user.

  The elf women seem very out of place for being in the world of Dungeons and Dragons. For starters, they both have enormous breasts. Elves aren’t supposed to have enormous breasts. They are supposed to be thin, petite creatures. These elves are curvy, voluptuous women with full lips and hourglass figures. Their fashion style is also out of place and belongs only in the real world, not the Dungeons and Dragons world.

  One of the elf girls is dressed like a punk rock chick. She has a green mohawk, green lipstick, many facial piercings, fishnet sleeves, a padlock chain necklace, combat boots, and blue jeans held up by a Bullet Belt of Protection +3. I can let the blue jeans and combat boots and even the mohawk slide, but why the hell does she have a bullet belt? There aren’t guns in Dungeons and Dragons, let alone bullets. Yet, she is still wearing one because our jackass DM just doesn’t give a shit.

  The other elf girl has the style of a cyber goth. She wears black latex, aviator-style goggles, and 7-inch platform boots. She has purple makeup and purple dread falls in her hair, and for some reason that makes no sense to me at all she has a twelve-sided die tattooed on her lower back. Why the hell would a character in the Dungeons and Dragons universe get a tattoo of a twelve-sided die? Our players are fucking retarded.

  The elf women are NPCs, or non player characters. I have learned that most of the people in my world are non player characters. This means the Dungeon Master controls them. Every adventure we ever go on we always get saddled up with a couple NPCs like these women, and usually they are very slutty characters who want to have sex with every single thing that moves. Although slutty elf women are nothing new to me, there have never been any punk or cyber goth girls in our world until now. I’m pretty sure they are here because my player, Mark, is really into the Suicide Girls website, which is loaded with pictures of naked punks and goths.

  “I’m Juzii Alon,” says the cyber goth in a thick Japanese accent. Don’t ask me why an elf would have a Japanese accent. This one just does. She points to her punk friend and says, “This is Loxi Toa.”

  Loxi, the punk elf, sneers at me with her puffy green lips. That’s when I realize she is topless. Why an adventurer would go on quests topless is completely beyond me. Our players would rather drool over the idea of adventuring with half-naked elves than actually giving them armor that might keep them alive longer.

  The punk elf gives me a seductive look, then a wicked grin. “Hey halfling, you’re kind of cute. Why don’t you come and sit on my lap?”

  I take a step forward, then hesitate. I can sense my player wants me to sit on her lap, but I try my best to resist him. “No, thanks.”

  The other characters sit down at the table next to the elves, taking up all of the available chairs.

  “Looks like there’s no place else for you to sit,” Loxi tells me, grabbing me by the arm. “You have no choice but to use my lap as your seat.”

  The DM does a successful strength roll on the elf, so she is able to lift me up and place me in her lap like a puppy. She leans her body against my back so that her breasts are squished against the sides of my face. Just one of her breasts is bigger than my whole head.

  “I’ve never had sex with a halfling before,” she says. “If I fucked you I bet it would feel like I was molesting a child!”

  You know, this is the kind of thing that really annoys me about living in a world that is controlled by horny 14-year-old virgins. These elf women are not real women. They are the women that these immature kids fantasize about. And sometimes I get the feeling that the only reason they play Dungeons and Dragons is so they can act out their sexual fantasies with each other. I’m not sure if these kids realize how pathetic (not to mention kind of homoerotic) this is.

  I try to ignore the punk elf girl as she rubs her breasts against my head. It’s good that Jenny’s character is with us now. The Dungeon Master never gets us into any real graphic sexual situations while his little sister is around. He knows she would tell on him and then he might not be allowed to play Dungeons and Dragons anymore.

  “So, we need some partners to help us on a quest,” says Juzii, the Japanese cyber goth elf. “Have you ever heard of Tardis Keep?”

  We shake our heads. I forget my head is between two breasts and my ears rub against them as my head shakes, causing Loxi to giggle flirtatiously.

  “It was once a hidden fortress owned by Lord Tennant, a ruler who preferred to live an isolated life with his powerful army and seven wives. On the day he died, the fortress was abandoned and it fell into ruins. What we have recently discovered is that underneath the keep is a secret dungeon with a long forgotten treasure chamber that has yet to be looted.”

  Delvok nods his head. “This indeed sounds to be a profitable venture. Is there any proof to these rumors?”

  “No,” Juzii says, “but it’s worth checking out, don’t you think?”

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nbsp; “There’s only one problem,” Loxi says, her voice vibrating through her ribs against the back of my head. “Recently, a group of gnolls have taken over the ruins. We’ll have to defeat the Gnoll King if we want to gain access to the dungeon. That’s where you come in.”

  “Yeah,” Juzii says. “We can’t defeat the gnoll gang all by ourselves, so we want to partner up with you lot. We can split all the gold we find six ways.”

  Then Loxi chuckles. “Unless some of you don’t make it back alive. In that case, we’ll have a more profitable split.”

  “So how does that sound?” Juzii says. “Are you in?”

  All the player characters nod, except for Dwarfy who slams his fist into the table and says, “Let us slay this Gnoll King with our swords of justice! Let us not waste another moment and leave right away! Me steel be hungering for goblin blood!”

  Then he raises his axe over the table, as if he wants us all to touch weapons in a kind of warrior’s pact. None of us draw our swords, but Dwarfy continues in his pose for a few more rounds.

  “What’s a gnoll?” asks Robyn Woodsong.

  Everyone groans and rolls their eyes. Our Dungeon Master really hates when his little sister asks questions like this in the middle of the game.

  “It’s like some kind of gnome troll I think!” Dwarfy says, his axe still dangling over the table.

  “Oh,” she says. “Are they cute? I don’t want to slay them if they’re cute.”

  “Silence, wench!” says The Dwarf Lord. “We are wasting time here! Let us journey to Tardis Keep and do battle with these gnoll scum! Then I’ll shove an owlbear’s severed head up the Gnoll King’s ugly arse!”

  Then The Dwarf Lord tries to cut the table in half, as he did the last one, but his attack roll fails. He tries again and rolls a 1 on the d20, a critical miss, which means he stumbles and loses a round. Not willing to give up, he continues his attempts to chop the table in half and continues to roll failing hits, even though the table’s armor class is pretty low.

  The rest of us grow bored with watching Dwarfy and leave Orc Fall Tavern to wait for him outside.

  Without money to better equip ourselves, we decide to embark on our journey with what we’ve got. We take Old Mill Road out of town into the abandoned farm fields. This is an area we explored on our first mission—when I was level 1 with no experience points yet—which was a quest to track down a wereweasel that had been killing the farmers’ livestock in the area. It was kind of a dumb mission, especially because the Dungeon Master thought it would be funny to have me get butt-fucked by a half-orc druid/thief.

  The two elf women lead the way. Delvok and I stay back to talk amongst ourselves. As we walk, I can’t take my eyes off of the punk elf girl’s round ass showing prominently in her tight blue jeans. I’m probably staring at her ass because the Dungeon Master back in the real world is explaining to our players what these elf girls’ asses look like in great detail.

  Our Dungeon Master is often fixated on describing boobs and asses, yet fails to explain in much detail the characteristics of the world around us. Like now, he really hasn’t described what the farmland around us looks like. There’s basically some fields and some farms I guess. I’m not sure what is actually in the fields. I don’t even know what the weather is like, to tell you the truth. But the elf asses, I know exactly what they look like. They are vividly detailed.

  Delvok notices that I’m ogling Loxi’s rear end and says to me, “You might want to be careful of that one. She is a level 4 assassin of neutral evil alignment.”

  “How do you know that?” I ask.

  “My player took a peek at her character sheet while the Dungeon Master was going to the bathroom.”

  “Oh,” I say.

  “So it is logical to assume that she plans to betray us at the end of the mission and steal all of our gold.”

  “We’ll have to watch out then,” I say.

  “Indeed,” Delvok says. “Being a level 1 ranger/cleric/mage/fighter, I am no match for a level 4 assassin. It will be up to you and The Dwarf Lord to dispatch her if she turns on us.”

  “I’m no match for her,” I say. “I’m just a halfling.”

  “But you are also a fighter,” Delvok says.

  “But I’m a fucking halfling fighter,” I say. “There’s nothing worse than being a halfling fighter.”

  “Why is this?” Delvok says. “I would find it more preferable than being a ranger/cleric/mage/fighter.”

  “No, it’s much worse. Did you know that halflings can only get up to level 6 as a fighter? No matter how many experience points I get after level 6 I’ll never be able to advance to level 7.”

  “Hmmm...” Delvok takes a long pause to think, rubbing his elven chin. “Yes, I see your problem. But, if I am not mistaken, you do have the option to dual-class at level 6. Do you not?”

  “Not really. Halflings can only be fighters or thieves, but my dexterity score is so low that I don’t meet the minimum requirements to become a thief. I can only be a fighter.”

  “I see,” Delvok pauses and lowers his head. “Your attributes do not work to your advantage. I doubt you will be able to survive any missions with myself and The Dwarf Lord once we have surpassed the sixth level.”

  I nod solemnly.

  After giving it some thought, I decide not to let my level restriction ruin my spirits.

  “I should look on the bright side, though,” I say. “Since it’ll take you four times longer than I to reach level 6, we can still go on adventures together for quite a long time. And perhaps maybe my player, Mark, will retire me after level 6. Maybe I’ll be able to live the rest of my life in peace somewhere nice.”

  “That would be desirable,” Delvok says. “But there is a good chance your player will just kill you off after you reach level 6. It is likely that our players would have more fun killing you than retiring you.”

  I shake my head. “I don’t think Mark’s like that.”

  Delvok raises his eyebrows, as if he knows I’m kidding myself.

  “Well, the Dungeon Master doesn’t really know what he’s doing,” I say. “Maybe he doesn’t care if I’m allowed to go past level six.”

  “I do not believe that will be the case.”

  “Maybe Mark will beg him to let this rule slide.”

  “I do not think my player would allow the Dungeon Master to let even the smallest of rules slide.”

  Delvok’s player, Buzz Jepson, isn’t actually a big fan of playing Dungeons and Dragons. He is more a fan of Star Trek. The only reason he plays D&D is because all of his friends are obsessed with it and because he thinks elves are the fantasy equivalent of Vulcans. He doesn’t really care what elves are supposed to be like in D&D. He just pretends they are magical Vulcans. He even decided to name his character after an actual Vulcan from the Star Trek universe. Delvok is a great Vulcan composer mentioned in Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, whose music was appreciated by the Trill science officer Jadzia Dax.

  Buzz doesn’t just pretend he is a Vulcan when he plays Dungeons and Dragons. He pretends he is a Vulcan in his everyday life. At school, he walks down the hallway with his posture perfectly straight, his hair neatly parted, his eyebrows slicked up, his facial expression completely free of emotion. Although he’s no longer allowed to wear a Star Fleet uniform to school, he still wears a tight-fitting pale blue shirt tucked into his pants and pretends it is his science officer uniform.

  Although he tries to come off as a brilliant knowledgeable Vulcan like Spock, he actually is not very intelligent at all. Most of his grades are Cs and Ds. He has a learning disability and virtually no common sense. However, he still tries to come off as an intellectual to his peers, almost snobbishly so. He speaks with smart-sounding words, even though he has no idea what most of them mean. He often goes to the library and checks out large amounts of books on science and technology. Not so that he can read them, but so that he can carry them around school hoping to convince other people that he is reading them. Each we
ek, he checks out a new stack of books. He has yet to read any of them.

  At lunchtime, he plays chess in the library with the other unpopular kids who have nothing better to do during their break. He sits at a table, his back straight, his hands neatly folded, examining the chess board with a very serious face. When it is his move, he focuses more on his serious facial expression than his actual strategy.

  Whenever he finishes making a move, he looks at his opponent and raises an eyebrow, as if expecting his opponent to be astonished by his brilliant play.

  Whenever his opponent makes a move, Buzz curls his eyebrows downward and says, “I find that move highly illogical.”

  Whether the move is a logical one or not, Buzz has no idea. He just likes to say that. Most of the time, he loses a knight or his queen immediately after accusing his opponent of making an illogical move. This usually wipes the smug Vulcan look off of his face. Even though he has never won a chess game in his life, Buzz plays it every day at lunch time. Not just because his other friends have a different lunch hour than he does, but because he wants everyone to know that he prefers to spend his time on more intellectual activities.

  Delvok looks at me and says, “It has been several hours since we have left town. I believe we should have hit a random encounter by now.”

  I look ahead and see the two elf girls are caressing each other’s hips and grabbing each other’s asses as they walk.

  “Yeah, but our Dungeon Master is too focused on what those elves are doing right now,” I say. “He’s probably skipping random encounters.”

  Delvok nods his head. “Yes, he often skips them. I find it highly improbable that we would not at least be ambushed once by a gang of bugbears on our voyage to the keep. This region is crawling with bugbear patrols.”

  In the distance, we hear the sound of a twenty-side die rolling across a table. I stop in my tracks.