Robin sat frozen in disbelief watching the scene unfold almost as if in slow motion. The wereBear struck a wide stance casually crossing its massive fur-laden arms as the four canine monsters surged into the lounge.
Two dogs in the werePack were red-furred — one definitely a fox, the other more dingo-like — sprang directly into the middle of the room knocking over tables and chairs with a clattering crash of breaking dishes and drinkware. Both wore simple, if ragged, t-shirts and denim pants. The smallest dog, perhaps a coyote, leaped onto the end of the bar, braced itself on all fours, threw its shaggy head back and released a loud, almost cheerful series of yips encouraging its mates to enact maximum carnage.
The little blue bartender demon hurled a cocktail shaker at the coyote only for the metal cup to bounce harmlessly off the creature’s shoulder. The coyote snapped its head around to glare at the demon before pouncing with startling speed. Dice exploded off both beings as the demon unleashed a torrent of flying icicles. The coyote’s sharp-clawed hands batted the missiles aside with little effort. The two tumbled out of sight behind the bar with a screech and a yowl. Robin could not tell which sound came from which monster.
The biggest canine, most certainly a wereWolf, had begun dismembering a romantic couple dining privately in the first booth. Zebryl cried out, whether in despair or anger Robin could not tell, but the devil launched into the air with strong beats of its surprisingly huge red wings. A matching ululating yell came from an upstairs balcony and yanked Robin’s gaze as well as the wereBear’s upwards.
Descending like hell’s fury personified came a nearly naked woman-devil of similar coloring to Zebryl. Sheer, gauzy fabric and long locks of red hair flared about the succubus - for surely this was Zebryl’s sister - as flames licked from her eyes, hands and nipples. She landed with grace on a tabletop between the wereFox and wereDingo to unleash a bursting ring of hot flames. The canines yowled as their clothing and fur caught fire. The succubus kicked one powerful leg into the snout of the wereFox its head snapping back with a clack of teeth.The fox dropped to the ground with a whimper and sought to put out the fire by rolling around.
Despite being alight, the wereDingo latched overly large teeth onto the succubus’s exposed ankle, the crunching of bone audible across the room over the din of death and disarray.
Zebryl, with two flaps of his wings, swiftly landed next to his sister retaliating on her behalf with a flaming backhanded slap to the wereDingo’s face making good use of his hand’s spike. The dog yelped, backed away finally taking efforts to madly pat out the flames about its body. Zebryl put one arm around his sister’s back to help keep her upright.
The wereWolf, the closest canine to the entrance, stopped its assault on the romantic couple. The humans’ severed limbs and ripped-out entrails commingled on the table with a half-eaten plate of nachos and the remains of a fried bloomin’ onion. The wolf professionally surveyed the situation. A handful of purple dice tumbled off its body as it unleashed an ear-shattering howl squalling the very air in the room like a fairy tale pig's hut was its target. The burning fur of the two red wereDogs was snuffed out and the devil siblings were blasted a dozen feet back. They tumbled onto the stage among cowering beige musicians and a cacophony of damaged instruments.
Robin realized he was so far out of his league he was sure to be killed before formulating any sort of plan. Clearly, hiding under the table was pointless as these monsters likely had preternatural senses of smell. Zebryl was too concerned about protecting his sister and the dozen or so remaining plain humans obviously had little or no ability to protect themselves, let alone help him.
Not knowing what else to do, Robin triggered a Pause
He started to slide out of the booth but seemed to run into a soft invisible barrier. No matter which direction he tried to go, the game prevented him from leaving the booth. Thinking back on the alley fight, he had been busy perusing the instruction manual and hadn’t been trying to go anywhere when Monika had appeared. She had confidently taken charge of the situation before Robin had done anything else. Now, testing the limits of what a Pause
“Oh gawd, ohgawd ohgawd!” he cursed out loud. “What the fuck am I supposed to do? All I’ve got is my tiny little Zap
He reached into his satchel and yanked out the instruction manual before realizing he had done it without verbally asking. He flipped open the book to the page after the neighborhood map hoping some sort of guidance would be proffered. No such luck. The page was placidly blank.
“How do I survive a battle?” he commanded of the book.
Ink swirled and words appeared:
“Well can go lick a cheese grater.” Robin was tempted to hurl the tome across the room but thought better of it. “I’m feeding you to the first paper shredder I find!” He jammed it back into his satchel hoping the book’s feelings were hurt.
Looking resignedly around the lounge, Robin despaired at his options. A twenty-something man had been halted mid-dash toward the front door. The massive wereBear had begun to casually reach out one long clawed arm to grab the poor human. The wereCoyote had reappeared squatting atop the bar while chomping meat off the severed bartender’s thigh, meat that had turned purple instead of its natural icy blue. .
Not wanting to think about how he would have to at some point — if he survived — start doing the same thing in order to survive, Robin vowed to himself and every imaginary cosmic being that he would take flesh off of another person. Or even off a monster. The very thought made him gag and not in the fun dick-sucking way.
What caught his attention next was the old woman, the one who had naughtily winked at him earlier. She was directly in the wereWolf’s path, likely its next target. Even if the game world would let him escape, there was no way he could abandon that poor senior citizen to be devoured like an hors d’oeuvres. If he wanted to live with himself in good conscience, he would have to try to save her, even if it put him in danger of getting eaten like a santa-kabob.
Not wanting to give that stupid manual the dignity of being useful, Robin tried picturing his AttributeSkillsSkillsStageCombatZingZapCharm
The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
He still doubted the StageCombatZingZapCharm
He read the description of the Charm
Charm: a magical spell, probably plagiarized from a Petal Pixie’s spell book, provides its caster with enhanced allurement and potentially enchanting powers of suggestion. Intended for benefiting from social situations, feel free to attempt its use in the bedroom or even just out on the street!
Range: medium Amount of Effect: some Attribute Pairing: Presence
Skill Dice: d8 ? d8 ? d10
Experience Gained: O O O O O
The five dots at the bottom of the description would presumably be checked off if and when he successfully used the SkillExperience
Besides, if things were being defined with abstract terminology like ‘medium’ and ‘some’, he was unlikely to get much more clarity even if he was willing to ask.
“Fuck it! Guess I’ll be charming the pants off this wereWolf. I hope nobody thinks I’m getting into furries all of sudden, cuz I don’t need kink clogging up my DMs.”
Mentally selecting one of his two d12Presence AttributeunPause
“Stop in the name of love, Mister Ruff n’Gruff!” At least he hadn’t tried to sing that first part even though the Supreme’s song played in his head.
Five purple dice tumbled off the wolf. Blessedly three of them were only four-siders.
ROBIN’s RESULTS: QUALITY = 24
PRE d12 = 7
Charm d10 = 8
Charm d8 = 5
Charm d8 = 4
WEREWOLF’s RESULTS: QUALITY = 10
WLP d10 = 5
Bravado d6 = 5
Bravado d4 =2
Bravado d4 =2
Bravado d4 =2
The action’s calculations appeared in Robin’s mind now that he was giving attention to the ability. Not having to check the manual for every minute detail was proving extremely convenient. All four of his dice had rolled successes against only two of the wolf’s.
The monster skidded to a halt on huge padded feet. Apparently lycanthropes in this world didn’t wear shoes and preferred to go bare-pawed. The wolf grabbed both lapels of its black leather jacket and gave Robin the most over-the-top, clichéd, examination starting at his black Santa boots all the way up to the dangly white poof at the tip of his red hat.
“And what, tell, are you supposed to be?” it growled in a sultry growl, licking its lips and baring wicked fangs stained with the romantic couple’s blood.
Robin noticed at least six nipples lining the hairy, brown chest beneath the open jacket. The clash, clatter and screams of everything and everyone else in the room continued unabated. “Well, funny you should ask. I had just been going over the master list of who’s been naughty and who’s been nice when you all came barging in here.”
The wereWolf took time to casually examine its long, sharp claws on one hand. “And where did my name fall on that list? I’m thinking ‘nice’, but maybe you could buy a girl a drink and help me make it onto the ‘naughty’ column.”
Maybe this spell should be called SeduceCharm
Robin refocused on the wereWolf. Despite feeling like his voice would start warbling, the spell must have reinforced the delivery of his words for he sounded totally relaxed and confident. “What’s your name, darling, and I’ll take a gander at the list and see. First, how’s about I get us a shot of tequila and we can check the list together.”
With a wet clatter, a twink rib slid across the floor having been casually tossed by the wereBear as it gobbled down more of its victim. Behind Robin, the old woman had remained sitting at her table in a horrified stupor. She frozenly held a half-eaten dumpling in one hand.
The wereWolf sauntered closer to tap one huge claw upon Robin’s chest. “Or, how about you sit tight while we finish up here and I take you back to our place and we see if we can get you all ferocified. Maybe even turn your outfit a nice shade of Feral
Not really sure what that meant, it was most definitely not a suggestion Robin was willing to agree to. “That sounds, ,” he hedged. “Just let me pull out that list…” He made sure to draw the wolf’s eyes toward his satchel as he reached into it with one hand while making a motion with his other for the old lady to get get ready to run. Hopefully the desperate flapping of that hand delivered a clear enough message to the terrified woman.
While the wolf watched his satchel hand, he mentally selected the d6EssenceAttributeZingZapImpairmentEssenced4
Impairment: your dice succeed only on 5’s or higher due to your inherent disbelief in actual magic.
RESULTS:
ESN d6 = 3
ZingZap d10 = 10
ZingZap d8 = 8
ZingZap d8 = 2
The wolf yowled in shock and pain as the spell delivered a sizzling bolt of electricity down its snout and directly into its brain. The smell of burning hair engulfed Robin’s nostrils. He had been lucky that the two biggest dice had rolled their maximum result. Maybe that made the spell more damaging? He had no idea.
Robin whirled around, grabbed the old woman by the arm and yanked her, rather violently, toward the front door. Firmly fixed on the exit, they half stumbled half ran past the gigantic wereBear still making a meal of the young man. The monster noticed them and their mad rush. It hurled an entire leg at their retreating backs and sprang in their direction with speed belying its size.
The leg thumped into the wall ahead of them next to the exit leaving blood spackle and smears on the polished wood. Robin shoved the old woman through the double doors just as massive claws ripped down his back. Weirdly, there was no pain at first. He turned his head to see the gargantuan 8-foot wereBear towering over him preparing to rend him with both claws this time.
Desperate, Robin cast ZingZapEssence
RESULTS:
ESN d4 = 3
ZingZap d10 = 7
ZingZap d8 = 5
ZingZap d8 = 5
The bolt of actinic, jagged light hit the wereBear directly in the chest scorching fur. He hadn’t even bothered to take note of the dice results but they clearly had been good enough to deal damage. That’s when the pain of the rending to his back kicked in.
He tripped out the door landing on his knees and ripping the pant’s cheap fabrics. He could feel a distressing amount of wetness soaking into the back of his shredded Santa jacket. The wereBear was about to lunge out the doors when it was hit from behind by a blast of bright red flame. It whipped around and surged back into the lounge leaving Robin and the old woman to flee clumsily down the dark street.