Griffin Turner leaned forward over his parents' dinner table. The formal dining room's chandelier was dimmed to provide atmosphere; Griffin's hawkish face was half-cast in shadow. John Lennon spectacles hid the intensity of his smoldering green eyes, which were further obscured by an unruly veil of black hair. Despite his gawky appearance, Griffin's voice was authoritative and deep, lending gravitas to his words: "As Ritter v Zeppelin gazes into the blinding fog, he hears his magic sword whisper. 'More,' it demands of him, 'I need more souls, more death, more murder.'"
"Ritter von Zeppelin is chivalrous by nature, but he also imagines the bloodshed inevitably caused by righteous combat – the bloodshed in both his and the sword's future," replied Derek Hamilton Jr. He dressed like an adult in khakis and blazer; a precocious teen who armed himself against ridicule with cocky self-assuredness.
Griffin nodded. "Ritter von Zeppelin's bloody thoughts re-assure the evil magic sword, and it stops pulling at his mind so tenaciously. Meanwhile, McCain steps forward into the cold mist –"
"I keep telling you his name isn't just McCain, it's Lonewolf McCain." The interruption came from Cobi Jackson, whose deep voice came as a surprise from such a baby face. Dressed in blue jeans and baseball sleeves, he slouched in his chair, obviously uncomfortable in
"What?" Griffin had no patience for this interruption.
Cobi didn't back down. "I keep telling you his name isn't just McCain, it's Lonewolf McCain."
"And we keep telling you that's stupid," Derek replied with a smile. "I mean, it doesn't even make sense. We're always fighting as a team; you're never alone."
"It doesn't matter," Cobi growled. "That's his name. You don't call Ritter von Zeppelin just Zeppelin, or Kubla the Conjurer just Conjurer, so how come you never call McCain 'Lonewolf McCain'?"
Derek laughed derisively. "Because Kubla the Conjurer and Ritter von Zeppelin are awesome names. Lonewolf McCain sucks."
"Screw you, Derek."
Derek held up his hands like he didn't mean any offense. "I'm just saying it's a stupid name. You should change it 'cause he's an awesome character."
"I don't want to change it – "
"Anyway," Griffin continued, trying to move on, "Lonewolf McCain comes to a clearing in the woods, where he interrupts a cabal of vile cultists in the middle of some unholy ceremony. A woman is chained to a stone altar, and one of the cultists holds a black dagger raised to the moon!"
"Our characters rush forward to stop this unholy right!" Cobi cried out.
"Is that true?" Griffin tried to confirm with the rest of the group. "Is everyone rushing forward into the clearing?"
"Sounds about right," confirmed Tony Kim. Tony, his almond eyes hidden behind titanium-framed glasses, wore a light blue button-down rolled up to his elbows. His Vulcan posture and severe features were tempered by vulnerable eyes and compassionate lips.
"Wait, hold on a second," cautioned Derek. "What does this woman look like?"
"I don't know, I guess she's like a brunette, like a couple years older than us," replied Griffin.
"But what does she look like," Derek persisted, pushing up the sleeves of his blazer, "describe her."
"Why does it even matter?"
"I wanna know if she's hot. Make sure she's worth rescuing."
"Seriously, dude? You're not gonna rescue her unless she's hot?"
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Sex & Drugs & Dungeons & Dragons
HumorSeventeen year olds Griffin and Hope are a menace to society. They're more dangerous than Benedict Arnold, Al Capone and Charles Manson combined. Why? Because they play a weird game with funny dice called Dungeons & Dragons. But it's 1985 and religi...
