Stan looked across the table and the hunched form who glared back with a wicked smile. The two were old acquaintances, not truly friends but something more than strangers. For the past hour this wicked little mind had been teasing him with riddles and puzzles. This was the moment Stan had been waiting for through all of the word games.
Without removing his gaze from the glittering brown eyes which bore into him, Stan reached down and picked up his oldest weapon of choice. The twenty-sided die had served him well over the years and he had hoped that one more night, one more battle was not beyond the will of chance.
“I roll for initiative,” Stan shuffled the die in his cupped hand and tossed it on the table.
The metallic red polyhedron tumbled across the table. A small hush encased the room, the three other members of the adventuring party looked on as chaos ruled the moment. Bouncing against a half-empty can of soda then ricocheting across the cover of a well-thumbed rulebook, the die came to settle in the expanse between the players and the hunched, villainous dungeon master.
“Natural One,” the beady brown-eyes practically sparked with glee. “Critical failure.”