No, he was not going to win this argument. "Dad, Dwarven names were taken from Norse mythology, they don't have names like us." I was confident that my emphatic statement would send him back to his Spanish teen dramas with his tail between his legs. It didn't.
"When I was in Korea, we had a Staff Sergeant named Wyskowski who was 4'9". He was tough as nails and once head-butted a communist so hard that he thought he was General McArthur and invaded Inchon all by himself. Now that's a strong American name."
I was annoyed. "Dad, I am not going to play a Polish Dwarf named Wyskowski!"
My father looked at my character sheet. "How do you do this Satanist crap anyway?" he asked.
I briefly explained the basics of D&D. He seemed bored until I mentioned killing monsters. To my surprise, fifteen minutes later, with Jim's expert guidance, my father had created Wyskowski the Dwarven fighter.
Pizza arrived, signaling the start of our game. Jim began the exact same way he did in high school. "You wake up in the Brown Goblet Inn," he said. "The room is 30 by 20 feet it has a low ceiling and smoke from the kitchen wafts through the air. What do you do?"
"Are there any hot barmaids?" Tennyson asked.
"I guess," answered Jim. He knew where this going, but was powerless to stop it.
"I ask them if they want to have sex with me."
Jim sighed, "No, none of the hot barmaids want to have lesbian sex with a half-elf paladin."
"Not even the ugly ones?" In response, Jim squinted his eyes and held his head in his palm as if he had a headache. (It was such a common expression; I'm sure someone has coined a term for it on the Internet. Maybe headhand? Nah, I'll think of something.)
Jim refused to roleplay a sex scene, especially with Tennyson. "You don't have any money to pay for a barmaid to sleep with you, not even an ugly one," Jim said. "Plus, what sort of paladin hires a prostitute?"
That seemed to send Tennyson deep into thought. I imagined if the house was quieter, I could have heard the gears that powered his brain whirring away.
I took the opportunity that the silence presented to get the story started, "I ask the bartender if there's any work for adventurers to be had in this city."
Jim explained that there was a lake to the north where the water was undrinkable because of the poisonous slimes that goblins kept there as pets. He assured us that if we were to reclaim the lake, we'd be rewarded handsomely by the local magistrate.
Tennyson perked up, "Enough to pay for a barmaid to have sex with me?"
Jim rolled his eyes but otherwise ignored Tennyson's question.
"I stand up and shout 'Does anyone want go with me to the lake and kill the goblin menace?'" I said.
Thomas' mage, Raistminster, offered his skills as an evoker and Tennyson agreed under the stipulation that his half-elf paladin, Fergy, would get laid after, or perhaps during, the mission.
"How about you, Mr. Cox?" Jim asked my father.