Page 4 of Stops Along the Way
Which he does, starting off with an initial attack that my action card only partially thwarts. I groan and lower my cardboard health-status dial. Declan makes yet another mark in his notebook.
“Just noting my opening success,” he explains. “In order to calculate the probability and such.”
I roll my own dice, with a less fruitful yield, but one that at least hits him with three points of damage in conjunction with my aforementioned action card. It’s all about future planning.
“I’m decidedly not a fan of probability,” I admit.
My mind drifts togeneticprobability, but I do my best to not think about that, even though those odds are never far from my mind. Right now I can’t be distracted against a formidable opponent, one who plays the game as if nothing can touch him.
“You’ve got to take a deep breath.” Declan exhales for show. “And go along for the ride. Make the best of wherever the dice take you.”
“I’m not the one who should be rethinking their strategy.”
He laughs. “The numbers disagree.”
Yet his Space Pirate has an unsuccessful roll, an attack that my Fortune Teller can easily defend against without any damage. Then, on my turn, I leverage another action card to enhance the strength of future rolls, once again playing the long game.
I’m eager for this to be one of those nights where Declan puts too much faith in some perceived rolling advantage and fails miserably, but the dice really do seem to favor him, and tonight is no exception.
For the next hour, we continue back and forth, launching attacks, mounting defenses, playing special character tricks and other effects, and—I’ll reluctantly admit—having a good time.
Declan’s easy to be around, even if he frustrates me with every little tally he adds to that obnoxious notebook.
It’s only a matter of time until one of our characters’ health statuses drops to zero, concluding tonight’s battle. It’s strange to see health conceptualized as simply as that, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t giddy watching Declan’s number continue to fall.
My next roll is a decent attack, so maybe, just maybe, I’ve got a chance of winning this thing.
He senses that too. “The dice must be feeling sympathetic to you,” he admits, reducing the cardboard tracker by another three points, putting him at a dangerously low number that he might not manage to recover from. “At least I’m still hanging on.”
“Your love of numbers feels at odds with how much you’re willing to trust the dice.”
“I’m happy being a contradiction. Keeps you on your toes.”
“Not for long.” I slap down my latest action card, which gives me the opportunity to double my next attack and put him out of his misery. If…my next roll allows the ability.
I toss my blue-and-gray dice onto the table and fixate on each disappointing bounce. Nope, nope, nope.
Declan clings to his momentary success, throwing his six red-and-gold dice out with a flourish, his eyes widening as each turns over to reveal a perfect set of matching threes.
He sits there, silent.
I jump up from my chair, shaking my head furiously, and my ponytail slaps me in the face. “Did you sell your soul to these dice or what?”
Declan is still staring at the table with utter amazement. On the first throw. With no card-manipulation effects or anything. He achieved a Hail Mary roll that activates his Space Pirate’s most powerful attack, dealing me undefendable damage that wins him what, ten seconds ago, was an unwinnable game.
I didn’t notice that two tables have already cleared and gone home for the night, but the others still here get up to look at what’s happened. Roy claps Declan on the back, congratulating him on his luck.
Declan casually nudges his attack token in my direction. Calculating the damage, I lower my health status to negative three before tossing the cardboard tracker back onto the table and slumping into my seat. “I want a rematch.”
He doesn’t start packing up his game yet, leaving the victorious threes between us. “I’m sure that’ll happen soon enough.”
“Well, there’s just this summer, because then I’m off to Indianapolis, where I finally get to find someone else to play against.”
He looks up from adding more stats to his notebook and squints at me. “You’re going to college in Indy?”
I lean back, tilting up my chin defensively. “Yeah?”
I applied to a couple different schools, including here in Nebraska, but ended up choosing to cross the Midwest, especially after getting a solid scholarship. I’m not going quite as far from Omaha as Amelia did, but I wanted to stray away from home too.
