Patrick choked on his Mountain Dew looking at the lowly one on the twenty-sided die. With his usual game-mastering flair, Dave chanted nonsense holding his newfound antique book as a prop. The pantomime was typical for Dave as he described the effects of the Reincarnation Beam, until the oddly authentic looking spellbook erupted into green flames that flew across the table.
Opening his eyes to a world tinted in grey, Patrick’s friends were like statues while his sixty-four ounce soda hovered in midair beside him.
“YOU MUST NOW GENERATE A NEW CHARACTER. METHOD ONE, STANDARD,” boomed a disembodied voice. Four six-sided dice materialized before Patrick in a flash of green. “ROLL FOR STRENGTH.”
Assuming that he had become the victim of an elaborate prank and illegal substances, he decided to play along. “What? I don’t get to arrange to taste?” he quipped.
“ROLL!” rumbled the voice.
Patrick grabbed the dice and dropped them onto the tabletop. He swore as the results came up, “Damn it! I can never roll a fighter.”
“STRENGTH EIGHT, ROLL DEXTERITY.”
He tossed the dice again. This time they were kinder.
“DEXTERITY FOURTEEN, ROLL CONSTITUTION.”
“Dave… Or whoever you are… Can you write these down? I’m going to forget—”
Patrick kept rolling, and the stats added up between glances seeking the disembodied speaker. At least they weren’t terrible rolls; thirteen constitution, fourteen intelligence, a wisdom of twelve. The last roll for charisma evoked a catcall from the gamer as the dice came up all sixes.
“CHARISMA EIGHTEEN, RACE—”
“Oh, come on!”
“Low strength, decent dex, and eighteen charisma?! Sorcerer!”
“ROLL HEIGHT, WEIGHT, AGE AND SEX.”
“Man, I might as well be making an NPC…” Patrick whined tossing four more sets of rolls.
‘TWENTY FOUR YEAR-OLD FEMALE, AVERAGE HEIGHT AND WEIGHT,” thundered the voice as it summarized the results. “PER THE SPELL, MEMORY, ALIGNMENT AND EQUIPMENT SHALL REMAIN THE SAME.”
“Can I at least say she’s a smoking hot redhead?”
There was a blinding flash of light. “SURE, WORKS FOR ME!”
Dave reached into the green smoke to rescue his friend. Grabbing a shoulder, he instead retrieved the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Patrick’s 3XL t-shirt hung immodestly large over her shoulders and bare legs.
“What?” the redhead coughed amid the dumbfounded looks. She then turned pale at the sound of her voice.
Copyright © 2015 Jason H. Abbott, All Rights Reserved.