Author's Note: While this is a story that strongly involves Role Playing Games akin to Dungeons and Dragons, you do not need to know anything about playing as I describe what you'll need to know to follow the story, within. Although, if you have experience playing D&D then you'll get some of the more esoteric jokes that I include. While most of my regular readers know I abhor the use of cliche, they also know that I like to use cliches and turn them on their end so that they are fresh again. In this story, the cliche I hope to mangle is that of Mary Sue. I hope you enjoy what I've done. Warning: This is the story I was writing for NaNoWriMo that got interrupted mid-stream by a dead motherboard and CPU. As such it is only three chapters long at this point. I'm hoping by posting what I have that your comments or reviews will inspire my muse so that I can finish.

Part One

“Oh my god, my feet are freaking killing me.”

I moved to slip off my boots, but one of the girls stopped me. “I wouldn’t do that. You’ll never get them back on.”

She pulled a folding chair in front of me and grinned, knowingly. “Set them up, it’ll help with the circulation.”

Following her suggestion, I noticed a mild improvement. Short of soaking in hot tub, I didn’t think I would see anything major in the near future.

The girl pulled up another chair and grinned at me when she sat down. “I’m…” she paused and sat down. “Samantia, but call me Sam when we’re not on the floor.”

It was in the rules that Dragon Games laid down when we arrived for the convention. For all intents and purposes, during the duration of our temporary employment, we were our characters. It definitely made for an interesting workday.

Reaching out my hand, I gave her a brief shake. “I’m Ar’ri.” It was a play on my real name. I’ll get to that later. “You’re a Tiefling?”

Her smile grew wider. “Very good, a lot of the geeks think I’m some sort of fire-elf or something.”

“What’s a fire-elf?” I asked with a little confusion, seeing as far as I know, there was no such thing in D&D.

“Exactly.” At least we were both on the same page. “You’re a Half-Elf?”

I nodded. “Rogue-Thief.”

She nodded. “Ah, playing up the outcast angle, I guess.”

It was a common enough scenario in role playing: being shunned by both Humans and Elves led to most Half-Elves to play Rogues or Fighters. “Seventeenth level. Ten thousand points shy of eighteen.”

She gave me a suitably impressed nod and then noticeably paused, looking at me with a knowing smile. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but are you normally a tomboy in real life?”

I know my eyes gave me away. “Uh, why do you ask?”

Sam crossed her legs, which was a nice sight to see. She was wearing armored above-the-knee boots and the rest was muscled bare thigh, tinged a little bit with a light red coloring that was indicative to Tieflings. The rest of her costume consisted of fairly hard leather in a swimsuit shape with brown leather straps crossing here and there to a very sexy effect. Worn gauntlets and shoulder armor completed her outfit.

“You seem kind of uncomfortable. Add to that the lack of experience in prolonged usage of high heels and…”

I glanced around to make sure we weren’t being spied upon. “I’m not actually a girl.”

This time it was her eyes that went wide and her smile expanded to reveal sharpened canines on her upper and lower teeth. Add to that the bright red contacts that matched her hair and it was a sight to see.

“Oh — my — god.”

I tried my best to shrug it off as commonplace. “When I was at ninth-level, I came across, what I thought was, a Belt of Giant Strength plus two. You know, black belt, iron studs…” I circled my hand in the air for effect and watched as she nodded in understanding. “Our Sorcerer wanted to check it out, but I thought I knew better, seeing as how I sometimes DM our adventures and I’m familiar with a lot of the magical items.”

Sam covered her mouth and I could tell she knew exactly what happened from the hidden grin.

“It was a Belt of Femininity,” I said with a grimace afterward. “Of course, I didn’t find that out until after I put it on.”

I suffered through the inevitable giggle-fest with as much dignity as I could muster.

“Why didn’t you use a Wish spell and reverse it?” she asked.

Shaking my head, I explained. “It only works half the time and we didn’t want to risk our last one on something that was only really on paper. The only guaranteed way to have it reversed is for a divine being to intervene. Plus we have a demented DM. Knowing him, I’d probably not phrase it right and wind up with no gender at all.”

Sam put her hands in her lap and tightened her thighs. I swear she must have worked out daily to make them so defined that I could see her muscles shift.

“That doesn’t explain why you’re dressed up like a girl.” Thankfully she lowered her voice so others wouldn’t hear.

“The roleplaying contest.”

“Damn,” she said. “I’m in the same contest.”

Dragon Games was sponsoring a realistic RPG contest and the character voted as the most realistic role-player received a three month internship with the company, not to mention the thousand dollar prize and a complete set of source-books for the upcoming Fourth Edition that was being released in a month’s time. At forty bucks a pop, that could get quite expensive for a not-so-well-off kid who just moved out of his parent’s house a couple of months before.

I gave her an appraising look. “I think you’ll do good. Your costume is amazing.”

It was. Everything was very realistic, even down to the tail that hung off her backside, down to the floor.

“Yeah, but you pull off the gender change really well. I was only guessing and I thought you were just a tomboy. They’ll give you major points for that.”

I grinned at the complement. “Well, I went all out. Everything I have is homemade.”

She looked at me with a slight bit of doubt. “Everything?”

“Uh-huh, well everything that could be. You don’t want to know how many garage sales I went to find little things, like spade blades, or these crocheted gloves. I even made my own trail food: jerky, bread, I had to buy the cheese though.”

Sam leaned forward. “Oh, that’s a good idea! You mind if I steal it?”

I shook my head and thought of the competition. “We could get together tonight and help each other in the realism department if you like. Tweaks here and there. We’re supposed to be a team, after all.”

“Good point. Okay, sounds cool.”

~O~

We wound up skipping the first nights after party and instead wound up in her room at the Hyatt Regency. I had to stop by my room for the rest of my supplies, which consisted of my trail pack and fake weapons.

Sam was putting on the rest of her costume when I arrived.

“You look really good,” I said at the addition of a dark cloak with a billowing hood to conceal her identity. Tieflings were basically half-human and half-demon. They weren’t really known for being of good alignment, but there were always exceptions. “What class are you in.”

“Rogue-Assassin, and thank you.”

She took the bed and I unloaded my pack on the desk.

“Would you mind if I took off my boots?” It was only polite to ask.

Without any hesitation she brushed off the request. “Make yourself at home. We’re all girls here,” she said with a humorous grin.

I cocked an eyebrow at her, sat down and undid the hook and eye clasps in the rear before sliding off the implements of torture along with the thin socks.

“Wow you weren’t kidding when you said you went all out. A pedicure, manicure and you shaved your legs.”

I felt my face redden. “My sister said I needed the pedicure if I didn’t want foot problems after the weekend.”

Sam nodded. “Well, she’s right. I’m just impressed. There aren’t a lot of guys that would go that far for a job that doesn’t pay anything.”

I shrugged. “Eventually it will, and it’s hard enough to find something right now because of the economy.”

We spent the rest of the evening going over everything with extra attention. The first day of gaming was up next, and we wanted to put our best effort into being the greatest imaginary creature out there.

~O~

“Names and passes, please,” said the moderator. He was the official referee and one of three Dragon Games big wigs that would judge the final outcome of the RPG.

“Ar’ri Bauquinea,” I replied, looking as proud as I could, while I handed him my pass.

He eyed me up and down without any emotion or tell that would let me know what he thought of my costume. “I mean your real name.”

Giving him my best confused look, I repeated. “Ar’ri Bauquinea. Is there some sort of problem?”

His lips quirked to the side ever-so slightly at my response. As far as I was concerned, the contest had begun and I was who I said. I think that was what he was looking for. “Take any chair. Your pack goes on the table for inspection and inventory. You may supervise if you wish.”

Whatever you brought with you was all you had. If you didn’t have any food, then you had to forage for some or starve. If you forgot your plus three Dagger of Soul Stealing, then you were just out of luck. If you couldn’t carry your pack because it was loaded down with too much equipment then you had to leave some behind.

They were impressed about what I could carry. Some of the weight was being offset by the Bag of Holding I possessed. That’s where I stored most of my heavier and bulkier equipment. Everything else was things that I had immediate use for: weapons, thieving tools, a small amount of gold, silver, and copper pieces, etcetera.

Eventually, there were seven of us, two Rogues, a Wizard, two Fighters, a Monk, and a duel-class Ranger/Bard. It was a fairly solid group.

Sam sat beside me, since Rogues tend to have more in common with each other, plus the added fact that we were both outcasts was an added benefit. The previous night, Sam and I agreed to look out for each other, just in case there was a member of our group that was evil aligned.

“You look gorgeous today,” she whispered to me.

I felt the blush rise up on my face. “Thanks, you too.”

While gameplay progressed throughout the day, it was obvious who was not going to win. One of the most basic rules of RPGs is that you need to play your character as you created it. Meaning if you were of a Lawful Good alignment then you can’t go out and start fights for no reason and pillage the enemy afterward with no thought. Those kinds of characters believe in rules, laws, common decency and so forth.

Another example is if you were a Ranger, you grew up and were trained in the wilderness. You have a natural affinity toward natural life. So starting an out of control fire in the middle of the forest to smoke out the enemy is a bad idea. So, the Lawful Good, Ranger/Bard was out of the running.

One of the Fighters neglected to unstrap his shield from his back before delving into battle. I could tell his character was fake and made up specifically to enter into a high level campaign. The boy hadn’t played D&D for very long. That much was obvious. He was out.

The Wizard was working hand in hand with the other Fighter, much like Sam and I were, but he misjudged his partner’s position and unleashed a Fireball attack. It’s kind of like igniting a flame thrower at the enemy, only more ball-shaped; when it reaches its target… boom. Friendly fire accidents occur, and it sucked that our only competent Fighter was now missing his sword arm because it was burned off in a critical hit. They were both out.

That left it down to Sam, me, and the Monk, who had just saved the burned Fighter’s life and probably gained major kudos from the moderator.

That was the first day’s run.

~O~

It was my turn to host Sam in my room. We ordered room service and had a great time going over what had happened, boosting each other’s moral, and trying to come up with some plan before entering the dungeon portion of the campaign the next day.

“You know something I find interesting?” she asked.

“Hmm?”

She lifted her jaw toward me. “Your clothes. I can understand getting out of the costume. God knows that I get sick of the leathers and armor, but you’re still playing the part, even if you’re a civilian until ten tomorrow.”

What she had commented on was my choice of black leather pants and gray silk blouse, not to mention the strappy heels I was wearing.

I shifted nervously. Since she had appreciated my look the night before and that morning, I assumed she was okay with me appearing as a girl.

“My sister said that it would be a bad idea to switch back and forth, so, um, these are hers.”

Sam raised a single eyebrow at me, feeling me out. “Uh huh.” She didn’t sound too convinced. “Look, Harry.” That’s my real name, by the way. “What you do in your personal life, you know whatever, I don’t really care. It’s your life.”

I tried to deny what she was about to say, but I just didn’t have the heart to lie to her anymore, so I stayed silent.

“My friends don’t understand why I want to dye my skin red and go play games with boys, or drop four hundred dollars on realistic looking armor and leathers, not to mention the two hundred for the boots alone.” She paused. “And the thing is I don’t really care about their opinion. I’m doing something that makes me happy.”

I frowned and looked down at my empty salad bowl.

“They look at me and see this Amazon girl with big tits and thighs that could crush walnuts and think they know me.” She shrugged. “Where were they two years ago when I was the lanky D&D nerd and just hit puberty?”

At that, I decided to end the charade. “I like dressing in girl’s clothes. It makes me feel normal, and I hate that I can’t do it every day. Okay?”

Sam’s lips quirked to the side. “There, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“You have no idea.”

She smiled with understanding. “I think I do. Besides, you make a hot girl. It’s too bad that you’ll lose the pointy ears and blue hair. They just make the look.”

My hair wasn’t blue; it was more of a blue-gray, like a steel blue. I thought it matched very well with the gray blouse. “The ears itch and the wig is hot.”

“Yeah, but you look good and that’s all that counts."

I was satisfied with that response. It was true enough. As long as I was happy and I looked good, who really cared about anything else?

~O~

Being a Rogue-Thief-female-Half-Elf is hard work in the morning, just in case you’re wondering. The eyebrows need to be plucked. The body needs to be shaved since body hair is non-existent with Elves. The blue steel colored wig has to be glued on. The pointy ears have to be glued on, and finally, the fake breasts don’t need to be glued on since they already were, but the makeup at the seams needs to be refreshed.

All of that had to be accomplished before I even got dressed and put my regular makeup on. It was exhausting. I barely made it to the breakfast buffet.

“Ar’ri!”

I was startled out of my runny scrambled eggs to see one of the geeks from the floor of the convention that I’d met on the first day.

See, not only was I participating in the gaming contest, Dragon Games liked my story and costume so much that they wanted me to be a Promotional Model. It’s a fancy way of saying Booth Babe. Yes, I was one of the girls by the Dragon Games booth where all of the new Fourth Generation source-books were being promoted. They have to upgrade every few years to fix mistakes and add new and interesting things to the source-books, or it could be because they are all forty dollars a pop, one of the two.

That was also the reason I was in high heeled boots for two days in a row. They wanted me to be a little bit hotter, because like it or not sex sells. I could switch back to my adventuring boots once the gaming started. It was okayed by the moderators or else I wouldn’t have done it. Needless to say I wasn’t going to lose the contest because I was out of character for a second.

Anyway, some of the duties of the Booth Babe were product promotion, gifting of free swag, and to answer any questions potential geeks might have. On occasion, the Booth Babe was to pose for pictures with sweaty geeks that hadn’t bathed in three days because they’d been standing in line for two out of those three.

What can I say; it was a really popular convention to be at. If you were someone, anyone worth knowing in the movie, comics, or gaming industries, you were there or you were an idiot for passing up on some of the best advertisement there was.

Getting back to the geek screaming my name across the restaurant:

I could swear I knew him from somewhere, but I could never figure it out. He gave his first name, which was Barry, but that was it. He had a four-day all inclusive pass, which got him into all of the after parties, and behind the scenes in some of the more exclusive events.

Barry had visited me a number of times over the first two days, had a couple of friends that took several pictures with me and him next to each other and a couple of posed shots of me stealing something from him.

We’re all geeks, get over your disbelief.

When I wasn’t helping other potential customers, Barry would hang out and we’d talk shop.

Dragon Games gave me a free set of source-books — one of the perks of being a Booth Babe — and I gave him the lowdown on some of the changes, what I liked and didn’t like, how it made some game play harder and easier, plus a whole lot of crap that I know you aren’t interested in hearing about. Suffice it to say, Barry was smitten or he thought I was his best friend in the world.

Hot chicks just didn’t get into gaming. Sam was one of the only exceptions that I knew of and I’d been gaming forever. I’m excusing her from the hot chick category as well, because she was a geek that became a hot chick and not the other way around. So it was acceptable.

“Hey, you look great!” Barry said as he stopped by the table and eyed the seat next to me with envy.

Well, I was being paid to interact with the customers and if Barry was anything, he was probably forking over large amounts of his dad’s money to Dragon Games. In other words, I pushed out the seat next to me with my boot.

“Still raring to go, Barry?” It was like watching a twelve year old on fifteen shots of espresso even though Barry was probably in his late teens or early twenties.

His smiled widened when he saw that I remembered his name. Hot chicks just don’t do that.

“Oh yeah, they’re showing the first trailer to the new Green Lantern movie today, and I get to meet Ryan Reynolds and Blake Lively.”

My eyes widened. “Holy crap.”

He saw my interest. “You want to come? I can get you in, easy.”

My shoulders dropped, crestfallen. “I’m in the middle of a campaign.” Pausing a little to see his reaction, I added, “It’s really important to me.”

His brows furrowed. “Is this about that internship thing?”

I nodded. “Yeah, I’ve wanted to work for DG for a while. Plus I couldn’t let the group I’m with down like that.”

He seemed to be pondering something for a moment. Looking around, he leaned in. “What if I told you that you’ve already won the position? That you’d won it before there was ever any gaming to begin with?”

My fork fell out of my hand and clanged off the plate.

“What?”

I know it was stupid, but the feeling that was rushing through me was like I’d won the Lotto or something equally as grand, but then reality set in.

“That’s not funny, Barry. That’s my future you’re talking about.”

He looked up and gestured to someone. I followed his line of sight and saw some guy bringing over a plate of food and a cup of coffee. He sat them down and left again to resume a position near the front of the buffet.

My attention was drawn back to Barry and I’m sure I looked like a complete idiot with the confusion that was all over my face.

“Bodyguard?”

Barry laughed. “Not exactly. He’s more of a personal assistant.”

I licked my suddenly dry lips. “Who exactly are you?”

He looked slightly wary for a moment before answering. “I work for Dragon Games.”

My mouth unhinged and for some reason I was pissed. “What was all of that on the first two days? I thought you were…”

“Just another random geek? I am. Dragon Games is in my blood, so to speak.”

I was dumbfounded and curious all at the same time.

Barry sighed with determination. “It was all a…” He waved his hand in the air, looking for a decent word. “An interview, if you will. Somewhat unorthodox, I admit. Consider it a tryout. You passed with sterling grades. So, let’s forget about gaming today and press on to more interesting subjects.”

My eyebrows bunched up in confusion. I thought about Sam and the others. Granted Sam and the Monk were pretty much the only decent and dedicated players, but the team was relying on me to finish what we started. So I shook my head.

“I’m sorry. When I started this thing, I made a promise to myself to do my best and even though I didn’t make that promise to the group, it was implied when I showed up.” I cringed a little to show him that I regretted what I felt I had to do. “So, if I’m worth having on at DG then they can wait until the day is out.”

Barry pursed his lips, somewhat amused. “I thought rules were meant to be broken, as long as it’s for a good cause. Isn’t that what being Chaotic Good is all about?”

It was my alignment for my Thief. Of course he would be aware of my character if he worked for DG. “That’s true, but it doesn’t affect a personal code of honor.”

He gave me a nod. “Fair enough.” Reaching into the back pocket of his jeans he pulled out a small chrome case and popped it open. “This is my card. When you’re ready, give me a call.”

The second my fingers grasped the card, he was on his feet and walking away from the table. I looked down at the name and title he held.

My throat tightened up and I had the sudden need to dash off to the restroom and… well, you don’t really need to know any of that. Let’s just say I was sick. It seemed as if I just told my future boss to take a hike, I had better things to do, like play a game.

Leaving the buffet area didn’t require any willpower whatsoever. I’d completely lost my appetite and quite possibly ruined any chance for upward mobility.

The booths on the Floor lost their allure as I shuffled through the aisles trying to get my head back on straight.

Had I taken the whole gaming in character thing too far? Should I have taken him up on his offer? Why had he made it in the first place? He knew I was gaming.

I jerked to a stop in the middle of the aisle. He knew about me, everything. He knew about me and still treated me like I was someone to be adored for two days. Granted, his attitude changed after his offer to drop the campaign was refused, but still. Was it all some sort of test? Did he have a thing for guys dressed up like Half-Elf girls?

His name was legendary, or rather his mother’s name, Mary, was known throughout the gaming industry as the original creator of D&D. Mary Bybax was the end all beat all of Dungeon creators and she was all but worshiped in the late seventies and early and mid-eighties until she had a mental breakdown and wound up being committed.

It was all over something to do with her thinking everything she was creating was real in some way. The company had been taken over by her partners and almost run into the ground before they mysteriously disappeared. Since then, it was run by the estate manager holding everything for Mary’s newborn son, Barry who would be somewhere in the neighborhood of about twenty-four or so.

That brought on even more confusion; the Barry I was talking to didn’t look that old. I shrugged the thought away. Maybe all that money made people age slower.

By the time I made my way over to the private gaming room, I was surprised that it was locked up and there was one of the moderators standing guard at the door. He recognized me and shook his head.

“Campaign’s canceled. Four of the players bowed out last night and there’s no way to complete the game without a Fighter and Wizard minimum.”

While I was having a minor coronary, the guy moved over to a skirted table, pulled my pack and a manila envelope out, and handed them to me.

“Your registration fee’s been refunded, but good news, it was a unanimous decision among the moderators that you gave the best gameplay, the internship is yours. Details are in the envelope.”

I didn’t know what to say. Being stunned a number of times in one morning was just too much. I looked around, in a daze for a few moments before I thought about Sam. “Has Sam been by yet?”

He nodded. “You just missed her.” Pointing off toward the exit he said. “If you hurry, you might catch up before she leaves.”

Shouldering my pack, I made tracks, dodging several patrons on the way to the doors. I caught sight of her red hair.

“Sam!”

She stopped and turned back. By the time I caught up, I saw her brush at her eyes. Was she crying?

“Hey.”

Coming to a stop I gave her a consoling smile. “Hey. Sucks, huh?”

Sam looked back, in the direction of the gaming room. “Yeah, lame jerks.”

I shrugged. “I don’t know if I would have shown back up if I’d put on the performance they did yesterday.”

She semi-snorted. “I guess.”

That’s when she noticed the envelope and compared it to hers in size. I could see she was a little hurt. “I guess you won the contest.”

I cringed. “Uh, yeah. Sorry.”

“You deserved it.”

“Maybe.” I offered. “You didn’t have a chance to shine. I was really looking forward to seeing you do your stuff since that was the whole point of the campaign.”

She shrugged. “Some other time.”

Sam was trying to play it off like it was no big deal, but I wasn’t buying the act.

We were starting to get in the way of people entering, so I motioned her over to the side. “Look, I met someone this morning at breakfast. I might be able to wrangle two internships if I pour on the charm.”

Sam looked at me in confusion. “Who’d you meet?”

I let out a short laugh. “You remember that guy that was practically slobbering on me at the DG booth the first two days?”

She nodded and started to look scared for me in a girlie way.

“He’s Barry Bybax.”

“No–way.”

I nodded. “He was doing the fawning geek thing at my table this morning and kind of asked me out, sort of.”

Her eyebrows lifted and I could see all of her red contacts, which was kind of weird. “Does he know that you’re…” she didn’t complete the sentence right away, but the way her eyes were gazing downward letting me know what she was getting at, “… not really a Half-Elf.”

I confirmed what I thought he knew. “I can’t see how he wouldn’t.”

“And you’d still do that for me? I didn’t peg you as a… you know… gay, despite the whole Half-Elf thing.”

We really needed to find some privacy. I was starting to equate being Half-Elf with being transgender.

“Oh, I’m not. I’m totally into girls. Um, you in particular.” I couldn’t believe I said that. To make up for it, I tried to not sound like a total spaz. Somehow I don’t think I was too successful. “And not just because of the whole absolute gorgeous thing you’ve got going on. We have a lot of the same interests and you’re really nice, and…” I looked down and shook my head. “I’m such a spaz.”

When I looked back up I saw Sam looking away with a slight smile on her face. That was encouraging, so I decided to go for broke.

“Did you maybe want to go grab some coffee or something? We could see what this whole intern thing is about. Maybe it sucks and…”

“Sure,” she said without any hesitation.

“Really?”

“Yeah, then I’ve got to get out of this costume. The tail is driving me nuts. I shouldn’t have made it so long.”

I looked around her and saw it dragging the floor. “If it was prehensile then you wouldn’t have problem. Plus, I think their kind of sexy.”

Sam rolled her eyes with mirth. “It’s times like these that remind me you are still a guy under that makeup.”

After turning toward the door, and exiting, I asked, “Is that a good thing?”

We bumped hands as we sifted through the crowd and before I knew it, Sam had intertwined her fingers with mine. “Maybe.”

I felt a hundred times lighter on my feet and suddenly felt like I could take on the world. All the morning’s weirdness had been swept to the wayside and I realized that everything I’d put myself through for the last few days hadn’t been for nothing.

We grabbed a couple of mugs, filled them and found our way to a semi-private corner of the buffet room.

Sam already opened her smaller envelope and found her entrance fee and a note from DG with apologies for canceling the campaign and not much else. My package contained an Intern’s pamphlet, a short employment sheet with all my information already filled out, my entrance fee, along with a handwritten letter by Barry welcoming me to Dragon Games.

He mentioned wanting to meet me personally in the afternoon, after I had time to decompress from the weekend’s events. At the bottom of the letter, there was a hastily written post script that read: If you want to get together earlier then call me. His cell number was included.

“Wow, he’s really into you.” Sam was reading the note from the side.

I nodded. “Yeah, I know. It’s kind of creepy.”

Looking a little pensive, Sam leaned in. “You really don’t need to do this, Ar’ri. Flirting is one thing, but this guy sounds like he might be looking for something a little more.”

That was exactly what I was thinking. “Yeah, but I don’t feel right about winning this. I wanted to do it with everything on the table. The Monk guy had a pretty good shot at winning too, and you never got the chance to show what you could really do. I’m not going to say it’s not fair, because that’s just life.”

“True.” She sipped at her coffee and then a determined look came over her face. “Look, I need to know if you are serious or just trying to make me feel better.”

It didn’t seem like an accusation. Sam looked like she really needed to know how I felt. “Well, I do want you to feel better, but I still don’t like the way it was done.”

She gave me a single nod. “Okay, then we try to hunt down the Monk, we can call up Bybax and find out what the deal is together.”

While I thought about that for a few seconds I spotted a familiar face at the buffet. “No need to go looking.” I pointed.

It was the Monk. He left the serving line and I stood up so he could see me. When the look of recognition dawned, I waved him over.

“I guess you guys have heard the news,” he said as he set his plate on the table.

I nodded. “Yeah, and we’re planning on confronting Bybax about it in a little bit. You want in?”

“Bybax? As in Barry? He’s here?”

Sam and I both nodded.

I flipped his business card over to show him.

“Whoa. You have his cell phone number.” The Monk’s eyes flicked up at me and he shrugged knowingly. “Makes sense.”

I felt my face redden and Sam giggled.

“Anyway, I’m supposed to give him a call regarding the internship thing and if you want to come along…”

He shrugged non-committing way. “I was just in it for the prize money, and I blew that when I saved Ben. Not really into it for work.”

“What do you mean?” I asked. “I thought that would give you major kudos with the moderators.”

“My character is neutral evil. It wasn’t in my best interest or his alignment to waste a Heal Major Wounds potion on someone other than myself.”

Sam leaned in. “So that’s a no, in joining us?”

He laughed. “I don’t think a guy is going to change his mind about anything. Two hot girls, that’s a different matter.”

~O~

Needless to say, we changed our clothes. I don’t think either of us wanted to be reminded too much about not being able to game the day away. There were difficulties however. The glue I used to hold the ears and the hair on were pretty strong stuff. I didn’t want them to fall off in the middle of play, not to mention the fake breasts needed a certain solvent to remove so they weren’t damaged.

Sam had the same problem. Her fake teeth were good for another couple of days, but they weren’t that noticeable unless she grinned really wide. It was the stain she used on her skin. Whatever it was worked kind of like sunless tanning lotion. It had to wear off and be shed along with her dead skin cells. So she was pretty much red for another week and a half or so. At least she was able to rid herself of the tail.

We both looked pretty silly in civilian clothes.

I was back in my grey blouse and leather pants with the cage heels and Sam went with jeans and a red cami top. It matched her skin at least. In flats, she was as tall as I was in heels, which meant five ten or so. The heels were three inches high. No way was I going back to the five inch ankle-busters from the first two days.

After the Green Lantern presentation, I called Barry and he was back in geek mode, wanting to meet right away, and sure, I could bring Sam along, no problem.

It was a private suite.

Barry’s assistant answered the door and they were the only two in the room. Once I heard the light jazz music playing in the background, I was praying this wasn’t going to turn into some bad attempt at making a freaky porno movie D&D style.

He was by the bar waving a red concoction at us. “Hey, you two made it!”

I looked back to see the assistant retreating to a desk with a laptop and a stack of paper beside it.

Good, no camera and no king-sized bed with rubber sheets.

“Can I offer you something to drink?”

I shrugged while Sam and I made our way over. “Coke?”

He nodded, eagerly. “Coke it is, and for you Samantia?”

“Coke’s good, thanks.”

“Not at all.” Barry dug out two cans from a maxi-refrigerator, about twice the size of one of those mini ones, but not quite a regular sized.

I nodded my thanks and watched as he totally ignored Sam in favor of me. After my first sip, I tried to open some conversation that didn’t revolve around me being a guy dressed up like a civilian Half-Elf girl.

“So, um…”

His grin brightened. “You’re wondering why I wanted to meet with you, me being the owner and all, when this should be handled by someone in personnel.”

I cleared my throat at that mouthful he gave me. “Uh, yeah.”

He motioned over to what could be considered a living area in most apartments: two couches, four armchairs, really big table in the middle with an unopened fruit basket in the middle.

Sam joined me on the couch and Barry sat directly across from us on the other. He took a big breath and sighed. Having seen this before I knew he was going to revert to his business personality, or as I like to think of it, Satan.

He glanced at Sam and then centered his stare on me. “I like to keep things as simple as possible, so let’s set all the BS aside okay.”

I took another sip of Coke and nodded. “Sure.”

“I’m sure you’ve heard about my mother’s breakdown back in the eighties a couple of years after I was born.”

I kind of felt bad at that announcement. “Yeah, sorry about that.”

He didn’t accept the pity, but moved on. “It wasn’t really a breakdown. Well, it was afterward, but the years before when she was ranting about an evil Dragon trying to take over the world, she was right about that.”

I felt my eyebrows lift and my jaw hang open a little. “Right, uh… well, good luck with that and all. Sam, you ready to go?”

A large hand found its way to my shoulder and held me in place, Sam too. And when I say large, I don’t mean stevedore large, I mean, oh, let’s say Ogre large.

The hand was olive-skin color and about the size of my head. I’m not going to say how much I screamed like a girl in surprise. That would have been fitting considering how I was dressed. So, we’ll ignore that and move on to the part where Barry stepped in.

“Gnort, that’s enough.”

We were released. Sam and I were on our feet and were halfway across the room before you could say, “Roll your six-sided die for initiative.” So, about two seconds.

“What the…” Sam took the words right out of my mouth, but mine were a little more colorful.

“It’s an Ogre,” I said as I felt my heart slamming against the inside of my chest.

“Very good, Ar’ri. Gnort, back to work.”

The next second, both Sam and I watched as Gnort the Ogre shrank, reformed down into Barry’s assistant and returned to his desk. Barry swept his hand back to the couch we abandoned.

“Please, have a seat. It was only a demonstration to prove the validity of my point. We’ve no intention of harming either of you.”

Like hell, I was returning to the couch with that thing behind us the entire time. “Uh, we’re good here.”

I watched as Barry chewed the inside of his lip. “Here, you’ve spilled your drink. Let me get you another.”

Sam was pissed, not to mention shaking from fear. “Screw the drink, what the hell was that?”

He stood up and set his glass on the table. “I believe Ar’ri already identified, Gnort’s race. He’s an Ogre.”

I thought I was up to speed. “And what are you?”

Barry grinned and tossed his head. “I’d show you, but I’d probably break the room and the one under us. Suffice it to say that I’m powerful and I want you to work for me.”

“Me?” I was taken aback; so much that I literally took a step back.

“Of course, Ar’ri. You were meant for this life. You will be my champion.”

Sam grabbed me by the arm. “We need to go.”

I resisted for a second, but eventually moved with her.

Nobody moved to stop us, but Barry did add something else. “You may leave after I give my presentation.”

Sam tried the door, but it wouldn’t open and by the way the knob turned, it didn’t appear to be locked. We both spun around. Everyone was where they were before and nobody looked threatening at the moment.

My hand slipped down and clasped Sam’s. I swallowed. “This is all real.”

Barry closed his eyes solemnly and nodded. “I am very serious about this, Ar’ri.”

I blinked and shook my head. “That’s not my real name.”

He crossed the floor and retrieved two more Cokes, placing them on the counter at the bar and then started back. “I am quite familiar with who and what you are, Ar’ri Bauquinea. I have been observing you for some time. Please, sit by the bar if it would make you feel more comfortable.”

That didn’t sound ominous or anything. Did you note the amount of sarcasm I threw in that last statement?

What I wouldn’t give for a real weapon of some sort.

We ignored our drinks, and I got the ball rolling so we could take our exit from fantasy land. “So… presentation?”

Barry saw that I wasn’t going to relax and it disturbed him. “Very well. My mother is not of this realm. She came here to escape a world ruled by Dragons. One in particular was a Red Dragon by the name of… well, it’s mostly unpronounceable in the English language, let just say for argument’s sake that it’s Lyzax.”

He took a drink from the glass that was previously on the table and sat it down again. “When she came here, she acclimated to society rather well, began her own business, and started training the younger generations in the art of her world’s warfare.”

Sam looked at Barry like he was crazy. “You’re talking about D&D?”

“Just so,” he confirmed. “During the summer solstice of 1985, she had a vision of dark times to come. You see, Lyzax found out about Earth and that she had fled here. So she made arrangements to block the way until she could bear a child and for it to grow up and eventually challenge him for the right to rule here.”

I blinked. “You’re going to challenge a dragon?”

Barry laughed. “Oh, sorry. I left that part out. Mom was a Bronze Dragon herself, under a Permanent Polymorph spell. She only appeared human. She met a man, conceived me and I’m of mixed race changing as suits my desire.”

That door was looking more and more tempting every moment that passed.

“Anyway, I just want to live my life. I don’t want to rule, but I have to challenge Lyzax and win if I don’t want him to come in and set up shop. So you see my problem.”

Sitting down on the barstool, I was about to palm my face, but I remembered I was wearing makeup at the last second. “Why me?”

“I need a champion, Ar’ri. Lyzax already has agents on Earth and has begun the infiltration process. Eventually he will come and between his agents and his presence, I will be overwhelmed.”

Sam stepped in front of me, blocking Barry from my view. “I don’t know if you’re up on current events here, buddy, but she isn’t a real Half-Elf or a real Rogue for that matter.”

“I possess the power to change that,” he replied.

“What?” I almost yelled and while I stepped out from behind Sam.

Barry slyly smiled at me. “I thought that would get your attention. Tell me, why did you think I set up this little contest of mine?”

I shook my head in confusion. “You’ve had the same contest for the last five years.”

He nodded. “Very true. That was to give you enough time to master every portion of my training manuals. To create your Rogue, to know everything there was to know.”

“Me,” I said with a moderate amount of disbelief.

“Yes.” Reaching down to pick up a folder off of the floor, he motioned me over. “Samantia as well.” Once he took out a sheet of paper, he held it out. “Tell me Samantia, what do you see here?”

Sam looked over at the assistant to make sure he stayed seated. When she was satisfied, she took the paper. I saw that it was a character sheet, specifically, mine. She looked it over and I saw her eyebrows raise a little.

“If it wasn’t for the low level, I’d say this was an Epic character.”

A point of order: For those of you not fluent with the term, Epic characters are those that have gone far beyond the normal levels and risen to great heights. A good example would be Hercules before he ascended to Demi-God status after his Ten Trials. He couldn’t be defeated; instead he grew stronger and stronger until, well, you know the story.

In other words, my character was a Mary Sue. If you don’t know what that is then look it up.

Barry seemed to agree before turning to me. “The only thing that confused me, Ar’ri, is why you never became a Shadowdancer as well. You are well versed in all of the requirements.”

“Wait a second,” Sam interrupted. “This is you?”

I nodded with a slight cringe.

“Twenty Dexterity? Nineteen Charisma? Are you kidding? No wonder you won every single throw yesterday. It’s not as if anyone could have touched you.”

“I had magical help developing those scores.”

Ability scores are based on the numbers three through eighteen, eighteen being the height of human limits and ten being your average person that keeps himself in decent shape.

“No shit? Who would have thought?” Sam’s sarcasm was dripping. She dropped the sheet to the couch and stormed back to the bar for her Coke. “Bruce Lee, super ninja thief bullshit,” she muttered along the way.

“Ar’ri?”

I turned back to Barry. “What?” To say I wasn’t pleased would be an understatement. Nobody is supposed to see your character sheet except for the Dungeon Master.

“The Shadowdancer?”

“Oh. I hate multi-classing. It’s a cop out for those that can’t hack a single class.”

Barry sighed and started making notes on my sheet.

“Hey, what are you doing?”

Without looking up, he explained. “You already possess all but four abilities in order to integrate Shadowdancing to your many talents, and you’ll need it.” He finished and handed it back to me.

I frowned. One just doesn’t add a seventh level SD to one’s character sheet. I’m not a homebrewer. I actually earned my way up to what would have been eighteen levels if the stupid campaign would have finished.

“You can’t do that,” I protested.

“Sure I can. I own the game, I make the rules. Just practice your new abilities and I’m sure you’ll do fine. And congratulations on acquiring Epic level status.”

I paused, stunned. Barry Bybax just gave me seven additional levels of experience, *poof*, just like that. Officially, I was twenty-fourth level. Looking back down at my sheet I noticed other changes.

Oh no, Sam’s going to kill me.

Leaving Barry to himself for a few minutes, I went over to the bar to patch things up with Sam. All I received from her was an indifferent face while she drank her Coke.

“I really did earn all of this. I’ve been playing the same Rogue for the last five years.”

Some people don’t realize what that really means. D&D gives you the ability to create upper-level characters from scratch. All it takes is a piece of paper, a pencil, and some dice — if you know all the rules that is. When someone does this, they usually work hand in hand with a Dungeon Master — the leader of the game. They do this so the character won’t get out of hand, much like my current Rogue.

On the other side of the coin, you have people like me, which are very few and far between. We start off our characters at the lowest level and build them up through adventure after adventure. With each scenario comes experience points, magical items, gold, jewels, more magical items, you get my meaning. We do all of this and eventually, we can build a small kingdom if we wanted.

Among my inventory, I carry a few hundred Platinum, Gold, Silver, and Copper pieces so that I can buy what I need on the road. It’s what every person that plays carries. But see, when I was twelfth level a couple of years back, our party went Dungeon Crawling and eventually came across a dragon. Dragons hoard things, it’s what they do. After the resulting battle, and eventual death of the dragon, my party split the gigantic pile of money and magical items it was sitting on.

If you’ve seen Tolkien’s The Hobbit, then you know exactly how big all this was. All it takes is one good score and most people retire their characters, buy some large plot of land and rule over it.

I didn’t retire. Instead, I wanted to see exactly how far, how powerful I could get before being smacked down by some god or deity which inevitably happens when a DM gets tired of how strong a character is.

I’m sure you’re familiar with the process: Big rock falls from sky and squashes Half-elf. Character dies.

What I’m getting to with all of this rambling is that there are certain magical items and artifacts that, if used, will increase a PC’s abilities on a permanent basis. Over the years, Ar’ri had encountered a number of these things.

Normally, a character will use one, increase his or her strength, dexterity, intelligence, what have you, and sometime in the near future get squashed by a large rock, so it was never cumulative. I never got squashed. Instead, the Dungeon Master would increase the difficulty level of whatever scenario we entered: add more traps, increase the toughness of the bad guys, or introduce unwinnable scenarios.

I’d beat them all, Well, not me, personally. Sometimes characters would die and be replaced within our group, but I was never one of them. This would invariably increase my power. It snowballed, you see.

So, yeah, I was a Mary Sue Epic character, but I’d earned it.

Sam sighed at me. “I just thought we were more or less on an even keel.”

I nodded. Odds are she was one of the people that created her character at a semi-high level and worked it up from there, enough to get really familiar with it, but not enough to have experienced as many adventures as I had.

She set her drink down. “Well whatever.” Leaning to the side, she eyed Barry suspiciously. “You’re not going to take him up on this champion thing are you?”

“I’m thinking about it.”

“What?”

Taking a defensive stance, argument-wise, I pressed on. “Come on, are you kidding? Think about it. If what he says is all true, I could actually be this person. You can’t say it isn’t tempting.”

Sam blinked repeatedly at me. “Yeah, a Half-Elf in a world of regular human beings. Does the phrase alien autopsy mean anything to you?”

“Oh,” I shuddered. “Good point.”

I turned around to address that problem and Barry was already moving. Granted, he was sitting on the couch about ten feet away. He flicked something shiny at me and I snatched it out of the air. It was a ring, a big ring. Looking back at him I had the obvious question plastered on my face.

He tapped the side of his head. “Dragon, remember? I have really good hearing. That’s a Ring of Polymorph Self. It has ten charges. When you run out, come back and I’ll recharge it. I also have Glamor necklaces if you prefer to just look like a regular person.”

Sam looked at the ring and I could almost see the drool forming. “Is that for real?”

Barry nodded. “That’s one of Gnort’s, but it’ll adjust for size when you put it on.”

That was how the Ogre was able to look like the assistant… or was it the other way around. I wasn’t so sure. Ogres aren’t really known for their intellectual capacity and this one was typing merrily away on his laptop.

I could see the internal struggle going on in Sam’s head. It was obvious from the expression on her face. “Do you want to join me?”

Her eyes snapped up from staring at the ring. “Huh?”

Turning back to Barry, I asked, “Can Sam join me?”

The smirk on his face intensified. Apparently I was too easy to convince. The Earth was in danger from invasion by things that possessed vast powers that most people couldn’t understand, and I was given the chance to be a real hero. What would you do?

“I would think less of you if you wanted to take on this challenge all by yourself,” he said.

~O~

Sam seemed a little more receptive after that.

I assumed that she would want to be her Tiefling character, but the thought of actually being a half-demon hybrid was a little daunting, so she retreated to her hotel room and brought back another one.

When she came through the door, she held a single character sheet along with a bright smile. “Here’s my Mary Sue.”

I grabbed it and smiled at the contents. It wasn’t near as Epic as my own, but it was impressive and I saw why she hadn’t played it in lieu of the Tiefling. It was a six foot tall female Elf. That just doesn’t happen in real gameplay. Unlike Tolkien, Elves in D&D are short, around five feet tall. The best ability score she had was a magically assisted nineteen in dexterity, everything else was respectable but within normal parameters for the level.

Barry was looking over my shoulder. “Excellent, you’ll be able to use spells and you’re a proficient fighter. It rounds out your shortcomings, Ar’ri.”

It all started to settle on me at that moment. “We’re really going to do this.”

Photo Credit: J. Corsentino