Chương 9: Failure Builds Character

A horseman's buisine cut through the squelch of sin. Jarelion the Cur burst shirtless from the tent, panting through wine-stained lips. His eyes were glassy and lines of livid sucker marks burned across his back and neck. In his hand, the obsidian Baneblade thrummed, ever-hungry.

"Report!" Jarelion barked at his Knights.

"Sir!" the Lancer Captain pointed a gauntlet at the rise. Steel glinted through a column of dust as a troop of foes roared over the ridge. Jarelion had the urge to turn and flee. But as he squinted, his purple lips twisted into a grin. He expected an entire army to crash over the ridge in a screaming tide. Instead, a single unit of diminutive footmen bore down on the command tent. Their movement was slow and unsteady. It seemed the enemy might have imbibed as deeply as he.

"Is this a jape?" Jarelion demanded. The Lancer Captain's blackened gorget creaked as he shook his head. He seemed just as bewildered as Jarelion. Apparently, these drunken dwarves were charging right into the teeth of his heavy cavalry. It had to be a trick." Lyvib! Get out here, witch!" Jarelion bellowed. There was no answer, likely because she had no mouth yet. It took time for the Sorceress to regain her human form.

"Bring my horse! Form up!" he ordered his Knights. The squadron mounted up and trotted into a chevron. Jarelion wondered if he ought to wait for Lyvib to compose herself. This seemed like some sort of illusion. But he was very drunk and quite tired of being told what to do. The black blade murmured in his ear with promises of hot blood and luscious screams. Why bother to don armor against such pathetic foes?

Jarelion the Cur wore the full favor of Chaos Manifest in a spiral of blackened sucker-scars across his chest. He was invincible.

"If they want to die, I shall oblige!" Jarelion boasted. He mounted his horse on the second try. Gurgling shrieks sounded from the tent, but he paid them no mind. His ears were full of black whispers.

"CHARGE!" Jarelion raised his woeful blade. His horse thundered forward. Cool wind blew against his burning skin and the Baneblade spurred him on to slaughter. Straight ahead, a red-bearded Dwarf glared at Jarelion with icy blue eyes. He was not afraid of the Baneblade, or the squadron of thundering hooves behind it. The little runt actually dared to smile! Jarelion screamed a battle-cry and raised the Baneblade for a killing stroke. Hell-bent, he never saw the shadows shifting between the eldarica trees.

* New Player Day began as a complete disaster. By the time Robin arrived at Duke Games the rules explanation was over. Everyone had already picked out their army. There was almost nothing left in the case. The three remaining units were the dwarves Duncan had warned him were weak, a unit of scuffed-up Imperial Halberdiers, and a handful of Hawkmoon Archers. All the time Robin had spent drafting army lists in his Diario was worthless. Worse, there were an odd number of players now.

It looked like Robin would have to sit out and watch. Luckily, Jeremy Curry turned up. He was a club member. His Cohort of Chaos was in fifth place and everyone called him JC. He wore heavy-framed black glasses and a leather jacket with his club pin on the lapel. Duncan asked Jeremy if he'd play a teaching game with Robin. Jeremy wasn't into it. He'd only come in to buy the new Slish-Slish the Riftmaster boxed set. There was only one left.

Duncan wondered aloud if maybe he should just buy it himself for the store case. Through his thick lenses, Jeremy's eyes bugged with terror. Shanghaied, JC quickly agreed to play and went out to his car to fetch his army case. Duncan rang him up with a crooked grin. It was a slick move, but Robin felt embarrassed that Duncan had to make someone play with him. Now, instead of a brand new player using borrowed troops, Robin would face a veteran's real army for his first game. He had no chance of winning.

He thought about just walking home. But Una would demand to know what had happened. It was a long walk, and he really wanted to watch the exhibition game after the new player matches. Robin decided to accept his fate gracefully, without complaint. The feeling wasn't mutual. JC griped endlessly and acted like he was doing Robin a big favor. He didn't teach anything. He drank sugary coffee and talked through the whole deployment phase while Robin tried to remember all the rules.

Robin's units were weak and needed to be positioned carefully. While he tried to focus, JC yammered on about how awesome the Riftmaster was, and how he would probably win the whole campaign once he got him painted. Then he went on about how cool it was to be in the ROTC and how Robin should join when he got older. JC wanted to join the Marines when he turned eighteen and become a scout-sniper. He already had the haircut. Robin nodded along and tried to concentrate.

When he realized Robin wasn't impressed, JC got annoyed and sighed at the clock. It turned into a real drag. By the end of set-up, the other tables were already laughing and having fun. Jeremy was bored and glum. Robin tried to move quickly to make up for lost time, but Jeremy took forever to do everything. It was like he was trying to be annoying on purpose. If so, it was working. Robin nearly forgot to activate Wall of Iron on his Shieldbearers at the end of his turn.

If JC got a charge off, it would have been game-over. To clear his mind, Robin took some deep breaths and opened the Diario. While JC maneuvered his units, Robin quickly sketched out the terrain and lettered the files and ranks. He made a legend for the different units so he could use algebraic notation. Everything started to click together in his head. Love what you're reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.

"What's that, your little diary?" Jeremy pointed a ruler at Robin's composition book.

"I like to record my games," Robin explained.

"Yeah? That's good. Take notes, kid. You're about to get smoked." Robin let Jeremy talk and jotted his moves. The second turn began. Dwarves were so slow, but he was starting to see a glimmer of hope. Jarelion immediately failed his roll to resist the Baneblade. He was overcome by Dark Whispers. Robin's defenders in the keep passed a morale roll to hold on under the barrage and gained a victory point. Aware his general was now a time bomb, Jeremy moved aggressively and declared a charge.

The Traitor Knights rolled badly and halted an inch-and-a-half short of engage range. Robin quietly smiled as the Shieldbearers were saved by their handicap. He'd only been able to afford the Shieldbearers by sticking them with the Dead on Their Feet onus. If they'd had their full movement, they would have been obliterated. Jeremy ended his turn. Robin sprung his trap. There were four face-down infiltrate markers on the board. One was real, three were diversions.

A cautious player would have stayed safe and maneuvered the expensive Traitor Knights away from the marker on the wooded ridge. Jeremy wanted a quick win. After his charge flopped, Robin flipped over the infiltrate marker. It was the real one. Now, his Hawkmoon Archers would be in perfect position to snipe Jeremy's general.

"That's illegal!" Jeremy warned. Robin placed the last of his Hawkmoon Archers behind tree cover on the wooded ridge. He blinked at Jeremy Curry.

"¿Que? (What?)""No, it's not OK. Take those off the board."

"That's a legal move," Robin explained.

"The Hawkmoon Archers have Infiltrate."" I know. You can't even have those in your army. You already have an allied race. Dwarves and Elves are enemies. Your list is illegal."

"These were the only models left in the case."

"Too bad."

"The referee looked at my list, remember? It's legal," Robin insisted.

"The ref messed up. No elves with dwarves. Sorry bud. You can forfeit if you want." Jeremy's glasses slipped down his nose as he leaned over the table.

"Yeah, that's not right. I'm going to start my turn, ok?"

"No way, kid. This is your first game. I've been playing for years. Listen and learn." Robin opened up the rulebook binder.

"Oh jeez. We've got a lawyer here. HEY DUNK!" Jeremy called across the room. Everyone looked up. Duncan and Vlad were at the biggest table, setting up a massive battle. Once the newbies finished, they would face off so everyone could see what a clash between two full-size armies was like. The battlefield already looked awesome. Duncan's new Imperial Army was already fully painted. Vlad's Bla'Claw Goblins were an endless sea of black leather, green faces, and sharp yellow teeth.

The regulation-sized armies were three times as big as the tiny learning skirmishes.

"Hey Dunk!" JC called again.

"Yes, dear?" Duncan sang back. He was assembling sections of a river with frothing rapids made from silicone caulk.

"Tell this kid you can't have both Elves and Dwarves in an army that already has an ally."

"JC, JC. It's a learning game. It's not ranked, just play. Who cares?" Duncan rolled his eyes. Robin suspected this was not the first time Jeremy had whined about the rules.

"I care. If he's learning, let him learn right," Jeremy argued.

"He is right. Robin has a Bobbert. Read the rules, stupid." Vlad grunted. He was busy setting up a balsa wood rope bridge between two looming cliffs made from painted XPS foam.

"Here. I was trying to tell you." Robin turned the rulebook towards Jeremy. Elf-friend: Your force may field Elf units. You do not gain Memory of the Moon or other exclusive faction bonuses. If your Elf-friend is slain, all Elf units suffer -1 on morale rolls." I've never seen this," Jeremy complained.

"That's unfair."

"No, it's not. Nobody plays Bobbert because he takes a wizard slot and his magic phase is a liability. He's been in the codex since Second Edition. Deal with it," Vlad said. He lifted his chin at Jeremy and dared him to talk back.

"This is so dumb," Jeremy muttered. He folded his arms over his chest.

"The Duke has spoken. JC, finish losing and get over here to help us set up the exhibition," Vlad poured it on.

"I'm not losing!" Jeremy insisted. Robin had a different opinion. His Hawkmoon loosed their enchanted arrows. The Hawkmoon Champion had a bonus to wound epic units. She rolled three sixes. Jarelion the Cur went down in a wailing hail of Shriek Shots. With its host slain, Jeremy had to roll for the Baneblade again. Black Madness overtook the Traitor Knights and they fought against each other to claim the accursed sword. Robin's Berserkers broke from the wedge and charged.

They cleaved right through the knights and the champion's follow-up move put him in melee range of the Chaos Sorceress. The Berserker Champion hacked her to bits before she could complete Horrid Transformation. The Berserker Champion had three rage counters. Nothing on the board could stop him.

"Can you believe this kid's dumb luck?" Jeremy threw up his hands.

"Uh-huh," Duncan smirked.

"You can forfeit if you want." Robin couldn't help himself. A snicker ran through the room and Vlad guffawed. The drama had drawn everyone's attention. Jeremy had an ugly look in his eyes. He wouldn't forget this.

"Screw this. I give up. I can't believe you roped me into this, Duncan."

"It's good for you. Failure builds character," Duncan said. Vlad cackled at Jeremy's downfall.

"Good game," Robin held out his hand, just as he'd planned. Jeremy sighed and shook.

"Yeah, sure. Whatever, I need a smoke." Jeremy gathered up his army and retreated to his car. There was no escape from the loss, every move was chronicled in DIARIO de MARTILLO. Robin wrote down 1-F. He was very glad he'd stayed.

"Watch out for this kid," Duncan grinned. Behind a sea of Goblins, Duke Vlad nodded.