The Peculiar Things Dragons Eat

July 1st, 2010 by Potato

A Canada-Day special! The deadline for the unicorn-pegasus-kitten short story contest to benefit the Lupus Alliance of America was yesterday, so I’m putting up my entry, as well as Wayfare’s and Netbug’s! Enjoy, and wish us luck! Next up, Wayfare’s:

“Hey, you have to check out this epic chestpiece that just dropped!” Wil said on the group channel after looting the dragon’s ruined corpse.

“Which one?” John asked.

“It.”

“I didn’t catch that, which one is it?”

“It’s just called ‘It’.”

“That’s bizarrely succinct. This game loves giving its epic armour epically long names, like the Legendary Chestpiece of Striking Out Against the Hated Undead As Blessed by Uther the Third. Hey, there it is in the list though – ‘It’. Huh.”

“This thing is awesome, I’m gonna have to roll need on it.”

“Sure, it’s all yours. I’ll take the axe though.”

“All right, let’s go finish this dungeon off! Just one more boss to go.”

“No. No no no no no no NO. I’m afraid Scazlorc can no longer come out and play tonight.” John said.

“What? Come one, we’re almost at the end, let’s finish this.” Wil coaxed.

“Pan the camera around and look at yourself. You look ridiculous.”

“Ha! A giant clown face, that’s hilarious!”

“No, it’s not funny, it’s stupid and dumb, and um… really bad. It’s totally immersion-breaking. We can’t continue this raid if you’re going to wear that… thing.”

“Dude, it’s uber. This chestpiece gives me at least twice the health of my old one.”

“I don’t care, this is a role-playing game, and I can’t stay in character seeing my tank run around in a… a… clown sweater.” John said, the distaste at the last dripping in his voice.

“It’s going to help us win, and don’t talk to me about immersion when you spend your time looking at your toolbar anyway. Let’s just do this.” Wil pleaded.

“I have no idea why the game designers put that in, but you know you wouldn’t be caught dead in something like that in real life, so why would your dashing warrior hero alter-self wear it around the fantasy realm slaying dragons? It doesn’t even look the slightest bit non-flammable. Hell, my daughter wouldn’t let her gnome wear that.”

“It’s just a character. And besides, I have experience playing characters wearing dumb sweaters.”

“I’d hoped that you’d know better by now.” John jibed.

“Ha. Ha. Ha.” Wil responded, dripping with sarcasm. “Can we get going now? The mobs at the entrance are going to start respawning soon, and if I don’t log off by midnight, my wife will have my head on a pike for real.”

“Change your armour back and then we can continue.” John had his orc avatar cross its arms and tap its foot, impatiently.

“I told you, this thing, It’s awesome. It is possessed of so much awesomitude that it ran out in the graphics department, so it looks like crap, but I’m fine with that.”

“If you were a real gamer like me you could beat this boss in just a thin sheen of glistening digital sweat.”

“Uhh… let me get that image out of my head first.” Wil said, shuddering. “And I am a real gamer. I…”

“Prove it.” John interrupted.

“Huh?”

“Prove that you’re a real gamer. Let’s duel.”

“Are you serious? That’s so juvenile.”

“Has that sweater has robbed you of all dignity? Step up, man. Wear the ‘uber’ thing, I can still take you any day of the week and twice on Sunday.” John boasted.

“Fine, if it’ll shut you up. When I win…”

“If.”

“When, because this sweate–chestpiece rocks, as you will soon see, and when I do, you have to give up on this strict role-playing crap and let me use all the cool stuff this game has to offer.”

“Agreed, except the unikitteh. That thing is so dumb, I can’t believe you spent so long working on unicorn faction just to blow all your gold on it.”

“It’s a flying mount.”

“That has the head of a perpetually smiling kitten.”

“I still think it’s cool.”

“And I will disabuse you of that notion… with my axe.”

Note that since this is Wayfare’s story, all rights are reserved, and I can’t authorize reproduction beyond BbtP.

As a Canada-Day special, I’ve also posted Netbug’s and my own stories.

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