Random TFW crack!!!
pandatini fills me with evil plotbunnies. So here's a story of an unusual game of D&D.
Sam, Dean, Gabriel, Bobby, Crowley and Castiel behind the cut.
I. Character Creation.
"So explain to me one more time why we're doing this?" Dean muttered to Sam as they sat down at the table.
"Not sure," Sam said. "But I've done this before. Once," he added hastily. "It's not so bad. We can get through it. Just... follow my lead."
"I'm so not comforted," Dean muttered, but he sat back in his chair and tried to relax.
Crowley had been nice enough to bring beers to the table -- that and a bunch of incredibly bad-for-you snack food, along with several things Dean didn't recognize. He was sitting at the head of the table, behind a screen of opened books, and over the top of the books his head looked like a boiled egg with sneaky, darting eyes pressed into the front. "Good," he said, "let's get started."
"Can't believe we're wasting time playin' board games when we should be on the lookout for Lucifer," Bobby grumbled.
"This is how we find him," Crowley said. "For the fifteenth time, Bobby. I swear." He rolled his eyes. "And also for the fifteenth time, this isn't a board game. It's a storytelling game. With you folks and your penchant for wanting to change the narrative, I'd think you'd be especially interested."
He sighed heavily. "We're missing someone," he said after a short break. "You know what, I think I'm going to have to call in a favor. A ringer to round out the party." He closed his eyes and pointed at the empty chair to his right.
"Whoa!" Gabriel's cry at being abruptly resurrected was only the first and quietest of the many shouts that followed. There were a number of exclamations and chairs rattled in the kitchen.
"Please, please, guys!" Gabriel said, waving them away. "I just flew in from oblivion and boy are my arms tired." He turned to Crowley. "What are we up to, Cro'? D&D? Very nice. Very meta, if you catch my drift."
"You always did talk too much," Crowley muttered. "Now. I've taken the liberty of drawing up your character sheets. Sam, here's yours."
He handed a sheet of paper over to Sam, who glanced at it and frowned. "I think this one is supposed to be his." He pointed over the table at Gabriel.
"How can you tell?" Dean leaned over his shoulder.
Sam cleared his throat, read out loud. "Gabriel. Halfling rogue."
"Halfling?" Gabriel glared daggers at Crowley. "Why, I oughta... how come you're running this, anyway? It's Bobby's house, he should be the MC."
"First of all, it's not MC, it's DM. Short for dungeon master. A role I am eminently more qualified to play," Crowley said. "Second of all... SHUT UP!" He roared so loudly the whole table shook. Everyone sat stock still.
Crowley matted down his hair and smiled pleasantly at the table. "Now. As you may recall, this is not just a game but a spell. Therefore, the characters assigned to you are the characters you will play, end of story. No switching around."
Gabriel grumbled briefly, then shot a pointed glare at Sam. "I'm counting on you, Sasquatch. You'd better be convincing."
Crowley ignored him. "Going on, then. Dean, your character."
Dean took one look at the paper he was handed and snickered.
"What?" Sam asked. Dean couldn't answer. He was trying to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from cracking up. Finally, Sam looked over his shoulder, and his eyes widened. "Dean, you know you're going right back to hell, right?"
"What is that? Let me see." Bobby grabbed it from him and frowned. Then frowned a little harder. Then got up and pounded the table. "I ain't no dwarf!!"
Crowley gazed at him evenly without saying a word.
"I'm not! Just because I've been livin' at half-height for the past year doesn't mean I'm a leprechaun. He's the dwarf!" Bobby pointed at Gabriel, who yawned. Apparently being called short by Bobby didn't sting half as much as hearing it from Crowley or Sam.
"Enough. Give Dean back his character sheet. Here's yours." Crowley handed Bobby his sheet, and Bobby looked at it crosswise, harrumphed, and sat down.
"So who is it?" Sam leaned over the table.
"It's you," Bobby declared. "You're an elf."
Dean snickered. "He's got the ears for it."
"And the bitchface," Gabriel added helpfully.
"Weaknesses," Bobby read out loud. "Addiction to orc blood."
"What?" Affronted, Sam crossed his arms. "That's disgusting."
"How is that any more disgusting than reality?" Dean pointed out.
"Because at least demons tend to be human-shaped," Sam said. "Haven't you seen Lord of the Rings? Orcs are disgusting."
That thought was greeted with resounding silence. Dean let out a loud cough that very clearly had the word "Dork!" planted in the middle of it.
Crowley moved on. Gabriel was pleased to get his assignment. "Hey, Dean! I get to play you! And good news, buddy, you're one hundred percent human. With a battleax and a thing for beer and chicks. Oh, but that's not a good charisma score. Hmm. I'll see if I can get you laid during the course of the game, OK?"
"What about me?"
All eyes turned. Dean jumped. "Jesus, Cas. Forgot you were there."
"Yes," Crowley said, "he's been very quiet. Never you fear, angelkins, you're dealt in, too. But I'm sorry to say your character isn't going to be as much of a departure as some of the others." He handed Castiel a sheet of paper, which the angel stared at dolefully.
"Well?" Dean prodded. "What does it say?"
"I'm Castiel," Castiel read aloud. "The half-human, half-elf cleric."
"What, that's it?"
"No." Castiel cleared his throat. "I'm female."
To be continued...?
*runs away*
Sam, Dean, Gabriel, Bobby, Crowley and Castiel behind the cut.
I. Character Creation.
"So explain to me one more time why we're doing this?" Dean muttered to Sam as they sat down at the table.
"Not sure," Sam said. "But I've done this before. Once," he added hastily. "It's not so bad. We can get through it. Just... follow my lead."
"I'm so not comforted," Dean muttered, but he sat back in his chair and tried to relax.
Crowley had been nice enough to bring beers to the table -- that and a bunch of incredibly bad-for-you snack food, along with several things Dean didn't recognize. He was sitting at the head of the table, behind a screen of opened books, and over the top of the books his head looked like a boiled egg with sneaky, darting eyes pressed into the front. "Good," he said, "let's get started."
"Can't believe we're wasting time playin' board games when we should be on the lookout for Lucifer," Bobby grumbled.
"This is how we find him," Crowley said. "For the fifteenth time, Bobby. I swear." He rolled his eyes. "And also for the fifteenth time, this isn't a board game. It's a storytelling game. With you folks and your penchant for wanting to change the narrative, I'd think you'd be especially interested."
He sighed heavily. "We're missing someone," he said after a short break. "You know what, I think I'm going to have to call in a favor. A ringer to round out the party." He closed his eyes and pointed at the empty chair to his right.
"Whoa!" Gabriel's cry at being abruptly resurrected was only the first and quietest of the many shouts that followed. There were a number of exclamations and chairs rattled in the kitchen.
"Please, please, guys!" Gabriel said, waving them away. "I just flew in from oblivion and boy are my arms tired." He turned to Crowley. "What are we up to, Cro'? D&D? Very nice. Very meta, if you catch my drift."
"You always did talk too much," Crowley muttered. "Now. I've taken the liberty of drawing up your character sheets. Sam, here's yours."
He handed a sheet of paper over to Sam, who glanced at it and frowned. "I think this one is supposed to be his." He pointed over the table at Gabriel.
"How can you tell?" Dean leaned over his shoulder.
Sam cleared his throat, read out loud. "Gabriel. Halfling rogue."
"Halfling?" Gabriel glared daggers at Crowley. "Why, I oughta... how come you're running this, anyway? It's Bobby's house, he should be the MC."
"First of all, it's not MC, it's DM. Short for dungeon master. A role I am eminently more qualified to play," Crowley said. "Second of all... SHUT UP!" He roared so loudly the whole table shook. Everyone sat stock still.
Crowley matted down his hair and smiled pleasantly at the table. "Now. As you may recall, this is not just a game but a spell. Therefore, the characters assigned to you are the characters you will play, end of story. No switching around."
Gabriel grumbled briefly, then shot a pointed glare at Sam. "I'm counting on you, Sasquatch. You'd better be convincing."
Crowley ignored him. "Going on, then. Dean, your character."
Dean took one look at the paper he was handed and snickered.
"What?" Sam asked. Dean couldn't answer. He was trying to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from cracking up. Finally, Sam looked over his shoulder, and his eyes widened. "Dean, you know you're going right back to hell, right?"
"What is that? Let me see." Bobby grabbed it from him and frowned. Then frowned a little harder. Then got up and pounded the table. "I ain't no dwarf!!"
Crowley gazed at him evenly without saying a word.
"I'm not! Just because I've been livin' at half-height for the past year doesn't mean I'm a leprechaun. He's the dwarf!" Bobby pointed at Gabriel, who yawned. Apparently being called short by Bobby didn't sting half as much as hearing it from Crowley or Sam.
"Enough. Give Dean back his character sheet. Here's yours." Crowley handed Bobby his sheet, and Bobby looked at it crosswise, harrumphed, and sat down.
"So who is it?" Sam leaned over the table.
"It's you," Bobby declared. "You're an elf."
Dean snickered. "He's got the ears for it."
"And the bitchface," Gabriel added helpfully.
"Weaknesses," Bobby read out loud. "Addiction to orc blood."
"What?" Affronted, Sam crossed his arms. "That's disgusting."
"How is that any more disgusting than reality?" Dean pointed out.
"Because at least demons tend to be human-shaped," Sam said. "Haven't you seen Lord of the Rings? Orcs are disgusting."
That thought was greeted with resounding silence. Dean let out a loud cough that very clearly had the word "Dork!" planted in the middle of it.
Crowley moved on. Gabriel was pleased to get his assignment. "Hey, Dean! I get to play you! And good news, buddy, you're one hundred percent human. With a battleax and a thing for beer and chicks. Oh, but that's not a good charisma score. Hmm. I'll see if I can get you laid during the course of the game, OK?"
"What about me?"
All eyes turned. Dean jumped. "Jesus, Cas. Forgot you were there."
"Yes," Crowley said, "he's been very quiet. Never you fear, angelkins, you're dealt in, too. But I'm sorry to say your character isn't going to be as much of a departure as some of the others." He handed Castiel a sheet of paper, which the angel stared at dolefully.
"Well?" Dean prodded. "What does it say?"
"I'm Castiel," Castiel read aloud. "The half-human, half-elf cleric."
"What, that's it?"
"No." Castiel cleared his throat. "I'm female."
To be continued...?
*runs away*