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“Now, add these two numbers.”
>Zoroark stared at her character sheet.
>”…”
>”Can you help?”
“Yes.”
>Your pokémon stared at you, wondering if you would.
>Then huffed when she saw you smirking.
“C’mon, you’re getting better.”
>Zoroark grunted, trying her best to focus on the digits.
>You stopped the game over a dozen times this past hour for this same reason.
>She liked the “play pretend” part of the tabletop game.
>Math, not so much.
“Use your fingers.”
>The pokémon didn’t have five digits per hand like you.
>But she made do.
>She counted slow, audibly saying the number each time she curled a finger.
>Hard to believe she made it this far knowing so little basic math.
>Once finished, she stopped staring at her hands to look you in the eyes.
>”17?”
“Was that a question or a statement?” You responded, smiling.
>”17.” She answered again, more confident.
“Correct.” You congratulated.
>”Did I hit him?”
“Mmm hmm.”
“You’re getting the hang of it.” You complimented, before jotting her enemy’s now lower HP down.
>Might be the perfect way to teach math to a zoroark.
“Your sword plunges into the duke’s side.” You begin.
>Zoroark, pleased with her correct answer as well as the game’s turn of events, absorbs everything with a smile.
“His chainmail prevents any blood loss. But the force knocked the wind out of him.”
“Members of the court are shocked!” You exclaim. “Some of them gasp in amazement. They can’t believe you bested Nobleman Falck so quickly.”
>Zoroark didn’t play like you remembered your old group playing.
>You all played Dungeons and Dragons like it was a video game.
>Combat encounters were puzzles to solve, every move made to maximize damage.
>Most problems were “fixed” through violence.
>Every room you entered needed a perception check.
>Finding gold and loot was the ultimate goal of every player.
>But not for Zoroark.
>She played a character.
>Sometimes to that character’s own detriment.
>”Fine form, Lord Falck!” Zoroark taunted, leaping from her chair.
