I think he passed out when I picked him up. I am not sure what I expected, but certainly not fainting. After all, how could he achieve the title of “Master” of anything and be so frail.
I landed and put him down on the ground. When I did, took off his backpack and set it to the side. I then took up my usual perch and waited.
I’m used to waiting.
When the lanky creature started to stir, I watched his eyes dart right and left, become full of panic.
“Where am I?!”
I cleared my throat. “My lair.”
“What?”
I started to answer him, considered, and then said, “I’m sorry. I forgot that I should be speaking a dialect of English, not Gaelic. It’s hard to keep up with all the weird tongues you people develop. But to repeat myself, we’re in my lair. At least I think that’s what you’d call it.”
“Who are you?”
“You couldn’t pronounce my name if you wanted to. For now, just call me… Gary.”
“Gary?”
“Yes. That’s a name relevant to the topic at hand. I want you to explain your game, this ‘Dun Dun Dragons’ thing. Especially what lore it has in it about dragonkind.”
“What? I… oh, god I think I’m going to puke.”
I wrinkled my brows and tried to give him time to catch his breath, scurrying around on my floor like a newborn puppy. That was when I realized that he couldn’t see. I am so accustomed to the darkness that it didn’t occur to me.
I said, “I’m sorry.”
Then I puffed out six little spurts, each one to light the six torches in the chamber. They were over a hundred years old, but they ignited just fine.
“Now,” I said in my kindest voice, “Is that better?”
It took some time for him to stop screaming. I returned to waiting.
“D-d-d-d-dragon! You’re a fucking dragon!”
“I know that word and I understand it’s not always a reference to mating, but I’m still confused as to why you’d address me thus. No matter. Please, explain your dragon game to me.”
“Wait, you mean D&D?”
“Yes.”
“Am I dreaming?”
“I doubt it as you are awake.”
“I’m so confused.”
I took a deep breath, counted to ten, then let it out slowly, smoke blowing from my nostrils.
“Are you or are you not a dungeon master?”
“Um… yeah.”
“Well, ‘Master’, you do understand the game, this ‘D&D’?”
“Yeah.”
“I want it explained to me. That’s why I brought you here. Now, if you please, I have millennia behind and before me, but I’d really like to get on with it.”
The Master looked in a daze as he found where I’d laid his backpack next to him. He picked it up, looked at me with a worried face, and then pulled a book out with a artwork of some creatures. I recognized the unicorn, the griffon, but I was somewhat taken aback by one of the other representations.
“Why is the dragon on that cover all red?”
The young Master pushed his glasses up his nose and said, “Well… in the game dragons are either chromatic or metallic. The chromatic ones are evil. That’s a Red Dragon; they breathe fire.”
“So they’re color coded? What are the others?”
“Black, which spit acid. Blue which spit lightning-“
He stopped when I laughed out loud.
“They ‘spit’ lightning? How does one ‘spit’ lightning?”
“It’s just… in a line?”
“Oh, our lore must truly have faded if this is what you think of us… well of me.”
“I don’t think anyone was trying to tick you off. Um… can I go now?”
“You still haven’t told me about the game. I want to understand all of it.”
“Okay… okay… well, it starts with rolling up a character.”
“What do you mean ‘roll up’?”
“You use dice. That determines your stats. Your strength, your Dexterity, wisdom, constitution, charisma and intelligence.”
“Aren’t those already easily defined by other means?”
“Oh, not the player’s stats. The character’s stats. It’s kind of like theater, but when you get to a plot question, you roll dice to see how it goes.”
“And when do the dragons become involved?”
“Well, the point of the game is to fight… well, monsters. That gives you experience.”
“And I… my kind is a monster in this game?”
“Well yeah, but not all of them are evil. The gold, silver, and other metallic dragons are good. They might help you. Especially if you oppose Tiamat.”
“What do Babylonian gods have to do with this?”
“Well, nothing… except kinda. Look, can I just show you the books?”
I considered. I shifted on my stony perch and said, “Come closer.”
The young Master took a torch from the wall and came to me. He opened the book and started showing me how various “monsters” were portrayed, both in art and numbers. I found it amusing that one of the monster types was ‘men’.
Eventually, he got out more books and explained how the game went. Before long, I’d flicked some of his dice and he’d written things down for me. I played a dwarven fighter. I think we played for hours; we definitely both lost track of time. The Master relaxed, confident in his role as facilitator, arbiter and narrator
The title Dungeon Master is terribly misleading.
As I crested 3rd level after defeating a ogre who in the story was terrorizing a small town and stealing their cattle, he yawned.
“I… I really need to go,” he said. “My mom must be worried sick. I hope dad recorded Airwolf for me… I need to get back.”
“But I want to follow the map that was in the treasure chest. I still have to win.”
It was his turn to laugh. “You don’t win. Not like you do in Monopoly or Scrabble. You just keep telling the story, pretending to live out this adventurer’s life.”
“Hmm… so this might require another night?”
“My current game has been running all summer. We get together once a week at Tommy’s house.”
“That’s… interesting. Would you come back tomorrow?”
“I can’t promise that. We can play another time though. Maybe you can show the game to some of the other dragons.”
I slumped down, turned my head from him. “That won’t be possible.”
“Why? You don’t think they’d like it?”
“Because they’re gone. I’ve been searching for a century now. I think I’m the last of my kind.”
“Oh… wow. I’m sorry. Wait, wait… you thought… that I might know-“
I flapped my wings. It’s the same meaning as when human’s shrug.
“I don’t think I want to play, now. Please go.”
That was when I felt his hand on my neck.
“I know what it’s like to be lonely. It’s part of the reason I started playing D&D. Because it’s usually a group.”
I snorted.
“Let me come back next Sunday. I can tell you where to… pick me up? I guess, literally? If you do, I promise, I’ll have a much better adventure planned for you.”
The thought was comforting. “Yes, Dungeon Master. I will allow you to take me on another adventure.”
“Brandon.”
“What?”
“My name’s Brandon.”
“I see… thank you, Brandon. Let me get you home.”
He collected his things. I picked him up and flew him from my lair. He giggled with delight when we broke through the clouds and could see the stars as well as the sun brimming on the horizon.
True to my word, I dropped him near his home. True to his word, he came back that next week. My dwarf became commissioned by a Bahamut to go on a sacred quest: to restore the lost dragons.
It was kind of corny at first, but together we told the story and rolled the dice.
That was almost 37 years ago.
Tonight is my first time DM’ing. I am nervous. It’s long time overdue that I return Brandon’s kindness… and meet his other friends.
Won’t the other gamers be surprised, though, when they get here and find out why Brandon has secured a pallet of Mountain Dew. Time for them to understand what real dragons are about.
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