Title: Gundam Geeks
Author: Raletha
Fandom: Gundam Wing
Wordcount: 1218
Rating: PG-13/T
Characters: The Gundam Pilots, Howard, and Noin
Genre: Gen/Humour
Warning(s): Language
Prompt(s): for prompt 001 on Dreamwidth's gw500
Notes: Rules within are based on 2nd edition AD&D. Apologies and affection to Summoner Geeks.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction.
Summary: On Peacemillion, between battles, Howard helps the pilots relax old school.
"Heero, you're standing in front of an old wooden cabin in the woods. It's pretty dilapidated. It has no windows and just one door. You can tell it's been recently opened, the grime on the knob is disturbed." Howard says from where he sits at the head of the table in the Peacemillion cafeteria. There's a cardboard trifold screen in front of him with colourful art of a fire-breathing dragon being attacked by an assortment of flamboyant fantasy characters: warriors and wizards; dwarves and men. There's even a large-breasted woman in a chain-mail bikini.
"I open the door," says Heero.
Upon the table, around which sit five exhausted young men and one exhausted young woman, are scattered pencils, erasers, sheets of notebook paper, hardbound books with titles such as The Player's Handbook, The Dungeon Master's Guide, and The Monster Manual. And, most importantly, dice in a colourful array of polyhedrons of many varieties.
"All right. You open the door. You are met by a gust of moldy smelling air and darkness. You hear a metallic clank. What do you want to do?"
Heero scowls at his character sheet, then with a decisive nod, looks up and says, "I cast Magic Missile."
"At what?" Howard said. "It's dark, you can't see anything."
With a one shouldered shrug, Heero says blandly, "I attack the darkness."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
"Okay, then," says Howard. "Roll for damage. One dee four plus one."
Heero rolls his four-sided die and sighs at the result. "Two"
"Wufei," Howard says, "Take two points of damage"
"Damn you, Yuy."
"Walk it off, Chang. I didn't know it was you."
Howard clears his throat. "Guys. Okay, Heero, your Magic Missile briefly illuminates a large, dark haired man in plate mail armour. Wufei, in the open doorway, you see a slim human with brown hair, brown eyes, wearing a brown robe."
"Why am I in this cabin again?" Wufei asks.
"You're looking for the mayor's missing daughter, remember?" Quatre says, "You both are." And then to Howard he says, "Do I hear anything? Is this near my grove?"
"I'll attack the guy in the robe with my longsword." Wufei says.
"Hey, Howard, where am I again?" Duo asks.
"You're in the tavern, there's a muscular half-orc with a claymore strapped across his back at the bar next to you-"
"That's me!" says Noin, waving at Duo.
"-and a half-elf with a fabulous feathered hat playing the flute on stage," says Howard.
"That'll be Trowa," says Duo.
Trowa, slouched back in his seat, nods without opening his eyes.
"Cool. How drunk am I?"
"Did I hear anything?" asks Quatre.
"Quatre, make a perception check. Wufei, are you sure? Remember you're playing a lawful good character."
"I am sure. He attacked me without provocation. Clearly he deserves my justice."
"Fine. Roll a dee twenty, you're trying to hit armour class... Heero?"
"It's nine."
"Ouch," says Duo.
"I thought nine was good," Heero says.
"No, lower is better," Duo says.
"What do I need to roll?" asks Wufei.
Trowa sits up from his half-doze and asks Wufei, "What's your THAC0?"
"My what?"
"It's an acronym." Trowa explains. "To hit armour class zero. Whatever it is, subtract nine from it. If your roll is higher, you hit Bob."
"You've played before too, Trowa?" Duo asks.
"Roll, Wufei." Heero says.
"Yeah. Some of the guys at the Barton Foundation played." Trowa says.
Howard sighs.
Wufei rolls his twenty-sided die. "Hit." he says.
Quatre says, "I rolled a fifteen, I think I passed my perception test. Do I hear anything?"
"Yeah, you hear some yelling in the distance."
"Are the barmaids buxom?" asks Noin.
"Sure," Howard says. "Buxom and spotty. They're probably diseased."
"Am I dead?" Heero asks, leaning back in his chair and staring at Wufei.
Wufei picks up an eight-sided die and rolls.
Quatre says, "I'll pick up my staff and head toward the yelling."
"Five" says Wufei.
"I only have two hit points," Heero says, his stare sharpening to a glare.
"Oh, shit," says Duo with a chuckle.
"Am I there yet?" Quatre asks. "Can I see what's going on?"
"I'm flirting with the least spotty per unit buxom barmaid," says Noin with a nod.
"Am I dead?" asks Heero.
"Hey, why don't you flirt with me," Duo says, waggling his eyebrows lecherously and cupping his hands over his chest to indicate the presence of large breasts. "I'm pretty hot." Duo slides a sheet of paper into the centre of the table. On it is a sketch of an improbably well-endowed woman in a gravity defying low-cut gown and skull themed jewelry. "See? I drew her."
"Hey, that's pretty good," says Quatre. "I didn't know you could draw."
"Is he dead?" asks Wufei.
Noin shakes her head. "You're not my type" she says, "I am a half-orc after all. Those poxy barmaids look pretty tasty."
Trowa snorts.
"When I get there, I want to cast a healing spell on Heero - I mean, Bob the Brown."
"Guys, hold up," says Howard. "One group at a time. Let's sort out Heero and Wufei first. Quatre you don't know what's going on yet, you're nowhere close to them."
"I don't think you can cast healing spells yet, Quatre," says Trowa, reaching his hand across the table.
Quatre pushes his character sheet under Trowa's fingers until their fingertips touch. "Druids can't heal? I thought I could. I have a healing proficien-"
"Guys!" interrupts Howard. "Be quiet, everyone, or you'll all loose 2,000 XP."
Everyone freezes and falls silent.
"Sorry," Duo mutters.
Trowa slowly pulls Quatre's character sheet toward him, turning it around for perusal.
"Now, Heero, I regret to inform you that Wufei's sword has cut you deeply. You are unconscious and bleeding at negative 3 hit points. You'll lose another hit point per turn until you get to negative ten. Then you will be dead."
"The weak will perish!" Wufei says in triumph.
"Oh," says Heero; then he looks to Quatre. "Can you heal me?"
"It's okay if you die, Heero. I can raise you," says Duo. "You'll make a fine zombie."
Heero's shoulders slump.
"Wufei," Howard says. "You feel all the strength drain from you. Your sword drops from your hands and you fall to your knees. Your armour feels really heavy. You can barely move."
"What? My strength is seventeen!"
"It's temporarily reduced to seven."
"Why?"
"Oh, man," Duo says, "and you were already at max encumbrance, with all that rope and chains and lanterns and pickaxes and shit you were carrying." He laughs.
"How long is a turn?" asks Heero.
"Ten minutes," says Trowa.
"I'll be there soon, Heero!" says Quatre. "I can bandage you at least. Right, Howard? I can stop him bleeding?"
"Why am I weak?" demands Wufei.
"Your god has abandoned you, for attacking an innocent."
"But he started it!"
"You're a Paladin, Wufei. You're supposed to protect the weak, not kill them," says Duo.
"He attacked me."
"No", says Heero, "I didn't attack you, I attacked the darkness."
The shrill scream of Peacemillion's alarm floods the room, drowning out Wufei's retort. Everyone scrambles to their feet, dice and character sheets scattered and forgotten. They're already out the door when Sally's voice comes over the PA. "Saddle up, boys. We have MOBILE Dolls incoming."
the end