The Nuclear Option
You crack open a rule book. That fresh, clean, new book smell wafts from its holy pages. You see him recoil in horror.
“I think you might be wrong about that,” you say gently. “See, according to the actual rulebook” you show him the page, “it says right here the opposite of what you claimed.”
The Kreeper’s eyes widen. His mouth opens. Closes. Opens again.
“But… but I read on the forums that…”
“The forums can be wrong sometimes,” you say, the forbidden words hanging in the air like a curse.
The Kreeper’s form begins to flicker like a bad hologram.
“No… no, if I’m wrong about this, then maybe I’m wrong about… everything?”
His voice rises in pitch, panicked. “I CAN’T BE WRONG! I READ IT ON THE INTERNET!”
With a sound like a modem disconnecting, he vanishes in a puff of smug superiority, unable to face the possibility of his own fallibility.
The air smells cleaner already.
Victory! Three down, one to go…
AWOOOO!!!
You look around and see him sat staring at you. Licking his lips like he can taste the fresh meat already. Its...
The WAAC Werewolf
His transformation is nearly complete. Fur sprouts from his knuckles as they curl around a fistful of dice. His eyes glow yellow with the unholy light of someone checking their phone for “optimal strategies” mid-game. A tail twitches beneath the table, occasionally moving his opponents units when he thinks no one’s looking.
“Sit,” he growls, gesturing to the chair across from him. “One game. I win, I feast on your heart."
"Uhh and if I win?" You ask
He laughs revealing far too many sharp teeth.
"No one ever wins against the WAAC Werewolf!"
You look at the table. Of course he's playing Space Wolves. Except he's not. Regular marines are more powerful at the moment so they're just painted as Space Wolves. Or at least have enough paint on them he can get his 10 points for battle ready.
What do you do?
