The Eleven Year Gambit

[Danger Arceneau]

"No game of dejarik can be won without pawns..." ―Kreia​

​

Dejarik was more than just a game. Novice players would often confuse strategy and tactics, blundering moves that would cost them the game. Almost all games below Yonta level are won and lost through tactical mistakes.

No, Dejarik was being able to learn a balance between the two. Tactics are the short sequences of moves, usually involving an attack or capture, that attempts to make an immediate tangible gain. They are usually the first thing a Dejarik player looks for when considering any move; forks, pins, skewers, discovering attacks or removing a guard.

Strategy… Strategy was when a player wasn't able to take advantage of a tactic. It is a long term plan usually based on positional considerations, rather than the attacks and captures of the monsters. Monster mobility, monster king safety, monster guard structure… all had to be considered for the true Yonta master.

Tactics and Strategy are so carefully intertwined, with strategic moves often having the objective of setting up future tactical maneuvers.

Much like the Kintan strider death gambit. It was a gamble. Thing is with gambles… one has the risk of losing it all.

Danger sat upon the plush black leather chair, her attention fixated upon the vast wide glasteel observation panes framing the spectacular view of the Flamewind.

It was one of the most spectacular and breathtakingly beautiful cosmic phenomena. Enough to leave one breathless. Interestingly, the different colors of the Flamewind seemed to set off emotional reactions in those who traveled during the Flamewind, even in a droid.

Red for satisfaction. Orange for nostalgia. Yellow for pride. Green for irrationality. Blue for sadness, and finally, violet for madness.

Cobalt and orange would reflect in the emerald of Danger’s eyes. It was a funny thing really; she didn’t take much for superstition. Who would believe that such a thing could affect one so?

Yet there was no denying that there was a tightness in her chest that bore a heavy weight. It would press with a deep well of hurt and sense of betrayal. It would ache to the bone, her mind racing and going through every interaction in memory. Thoughts would bleed into others, and she only found herself awashed in such sinking desperation, her eyes drifting towards the small holographic Dejarik game in front of her.

It was her move. Had been for a long while. While she'd taken her time in the past, this time around there was more to it than mere tactical play. Her mind was elsewhere.

A frown grew upon her face.

To some degree there was a level of comfort to the game. Her father had taught it to her, utilizing the aged wood analog Dejarik board passed down from her granddaddy. She knew the feel of the grain, the grooves upon the ebony and alabaster wedges that formed a circular checkerboard surface. The weight of the of the creatures.

There was no lie between her and the board in that. It was all about tactics and strategy. A game.

A game she would find stimulation of her mind she couldn't quite find elsewhere. Not with the same level of ambiguity where she was able to express herself freely. That's what the correspondence Dejarik association was about. Just a small club of sorts where like minded individuals across the 'verse would come together and play Dejarik. Granted, unlike games that could well be over in a matter of an hour when done face to face, with correspondence, a player could very well wait days, weeks, or even a month before being sent the move from their opponent, with games lasting into months and even years.

This was fine by Danger; it was something to look forward to, to mull about in the back of her mind. ANd because each move took time, it also meant that the stakes were a bit higher; at least in terms of the end point.

This particular game had been in play for about a year now. Her opponent is a veteran Yonta master she met eleven years ago on the holoforum.

Handsome K'lor'slug, that is his forum name-- his simply because she had discerned throughout the years in their written correspondence -- and from what she could gather in her years of playing with him, had a sound mind for tactics and strategy. They were both similar in styles as well as equally competitive. She had been a hot head then -- still was now, but she'd mellowed in the years -- while that K'lor'slug had been equally willing to butt heads with her.

It was a nice change though; that freedom to act just so without the weight of Arceneau behind her.

Here, she was simply M'onnok Folk, dubbed after the dangerous, semi sentient desert predator from the world of Socorro. Smugglers would consider the sight of a m'onnok to signify the beginning of a dangerous, but greatly rewarding journey, and her time as a blockade runner made that more often than not a reality.

But that was all in the past; this was the now. It was her move.

One she made hours later in the wake of grief.

A Kintan strider death gambit.


[member="Alric Kuhn"]

 

[Alric Kuhn]

He pressed his knuckles against the wooden table.

Alric had never experienced something quite so profoundly boring as what he was experiencing now. His head was held up high, his eyes were sad forward, and his lips thinned slightly as the console in front of him let out a loud beeping chirp.

A grin spread across his face as he noticed who the package was from, and what it must have contained.

He took the small box back to his room, almost entire sure that the small crowd that gathered around them had grown for his own amusement. Of course when he finally encroached on the Dejarik table he kept her he smiled only to realize that the crowd of droids that had been following after him was beginning to set up the wooden flooring of the room that he currently occupied. A scowl touched his lips, thinking about how inefficient it all was.

“Go on.” Alric said as he activated the board and finally, saw the massive collections of snakes everyone had been talking about.

For a moment he wondered, trying to recognize the snake in the garden, only to later realize that there had been a legit snake in the garden. As he thought, his opponents pieces moved, throwing away one of his pieces almost needlessly.

Alric frowned, then shifted a piece forward, springing the trap.

 

[Danger Arceneau]

Maybe [member="Alric Kuhn"] had taken that apple a bit too soon. Or blame it on the snake in the garden. Or maybe he was high on whatever kind of fumes from whatever kind of adhesive the droids were using to lay that floor down.

Either way, whatever it was, the trap was indeed sprung, allowing for Danger's holoscreen to give an informative boop.

A frown would draw across her brow. Was it another memo? Her slow cantor from the window would bring her back to her desk. After she had sent the original move, she had made her way towards the viewport. That only a few minutes had passed since then was a curious thing indeed. Her first inclination wasn't that it was the move that normally took days, weeks, or even months to hear from -- but that it was perhaps something to do with the company in it of it self.

Color her surprised when it was instead Handsome K'lor'slug falling for her trap. She had him right forked now.

"Just what are you thinking?" came her suspicious murmur, narrowing her eyes as she would bend down at the waist, moving the analog piece to the respective checkered spot. That was too fast of a move. Too cocky. Too abrupt. A half consideration would provoke the thought that he perhaps saw something she didn't?

The next fifteen minutes was spent tabulating potential moves and consequences. It didn't make sense. She gave a frown.

Finally, without any other recourse, she did what she rarely ever would.

A small holomessage would relay the following with her move, taking his monster in that fork.

[ A quickie never truly satisfies; and may leave one wanting. ]

 

[Alric Kuhn]

[member="Danger Arceneau"]

He smiled.

The fork was not always an end to the game. It certainly could be. It could be the move that cost you everything, but this time, this time it wasn't so. In the back of his head Alric knew that, and in the forefront of his mind was the way that he would beat his mysterious opponent.

Victory did not always come easily in these games, if it came at all.

He had played with the M'onnok Fork for what seemed like half of his life...or perhaps it really was half of his life. They brought him more than a measure of joy, and occupied his thoughts when there was nothing else to think of. It was the only part of the game that was left, the only thing that he truly clung to from his past.

The message popped up, and a small smirk crossed his lips. For a moment he thought about not replying, he thought instead that he would make his next move and surprise his opponent. Instead however he sent a quick, succinct message.

[ Sometimes, that's not a bad thing. ]​

He pressed send, then a moment made his move.

 

[Danger Arceneau]

[member="Alric Kuhn"]

It had taken longer than usual to make her move. Granted considering the state of affairs and most recent events, who could blame her? As she sat on her balcony, Dejarik board in front of her and waiting for her move, she couldn't help but have her mind draw back to one man.

Alric Kuhn.

He was back from the dead, and twice had sought her out. Not for any rhyme nor reason, but because he had no where else to go. He was broken, lost. Had he come demanding for her presence at her door, perhaps the outcome would have been different. Or was she only telling that to herself?

There was no denying that she felt strong emotions towards Alric that while time had dulled the ache, they did not erase. Nor did it fade the wariness and concern over opening herself up to being hurt again. Yes, she missed her best friend, but doing something about that meant opening herself up. To tie in that was the nagging persistence to make sure he was okay. The death of his wife certainly made him vulnerable, taking it hard as he had the deaths of his sisters. Probably worse than that really.

His only saving grace were those girls; and if he knew well he would shower them with every sort of proof of his dedication. Something he was sure to follow through with.

An exhale of breath would draw her attention back to the board. She hadn't the time to write back a quip at all!

So it was with this state of mind that Danger would finally submit her move; one perhaps in reflective of her newfound warines - along with the following.

[ apologies for the delay; perhaps building anticipation may be well with the reward ]

 

[Alric Kuhn]

[member="Danger Arceneau"]

It had been nearly a year now.

His opponent had responded some time ago, months ago. He had remembered reading it, remembered seeing it but never registering what it had said. It had been a time of hurt, of guilt, of doubt. Dejarik had been the last thing on his mind, the last thing that he could even register. Yet time had passed, nearly a year. It was long, though not the longest that he had taken to make a move. When the girls had first been born they had consumed him almost entirely.

Funny how they had been what caused the wait both times.

Yet now here he sat, ready to make a new move. To be truthful, he had all but forgotten about it as of late. The misery had gone away, the guilt too, but his life had been consumed by something else, joy. Danger had reminded him of what it was like to feel happy, to be in a good place, and in that joy he had once again forgotten one of the smaller joys he had always held.

Dejarik.

Sitting in his office, looking at the board and the message that had come with it, he could only smile.

His fingers gently placed his own piece forward, sending a single message.

[One can only hope.]

 

[Danger Arceneau]

[member="Alric Kuhn"]


Three weeks in and Danger finally set up her grandaddy's dejarik board to her pleasure. It was set at the corner of the living room, right beside a small nook she had made for herself beside the viewport. It gave her a fantastic view of the planet below and the distat sun.

With things being as hectic as they were, Danger had yet to sent a message to her Dejarik partner in query. It had been almost a year, and while this certainly wasn't the longest that he'd not sent his move, it did give a small cause of concern. So it was with a pleasant surprise the Queen of Trade's datapad would give a slight beep of an incoming message.

Sliding her black framed glasses on, the redhead would read the short missive, giving a slight chuckle. Her attention drew over towards the move.

Alric was at Vanir Headquarters today. Some things just could not be done remotely. It couldn't be helped, but it did now give her time to settle upon her game. Bare feet would pad from the den over towards the living room. A hand went running through her silver streaked hair, pushing the waves away from her face.

Sliding into her seat in front of the intricate wooden Dejarik table, the Yonta master would set in position Handsome K'lor'slug's monster. Fingers would tap lightly against the grain, her brow furrowing in concentration. It was all about thinking the next three moves.

With a growing quirk of her lips, Danger made her move. Bringing the datapad up, she would enter it along with the following.

[ You are getting more lax in your old age.]

With over thirty years of playing with one another, it was a quip she could say with notable amusement.

 

[Alric Kuhn]

[member="Danger Arceneau"]

Thirty years.

Thirty years of games and fun. A few had lasted days, some had lasted months, one or two had even lasted years. No matter how much time passed the two of them always played. Oddly enough, he had never once wondered who the person on the other side of the board was. He had never thought about whether or not they were male or female, whether they were old or young, he had never even really wanted to know their name. This was one mystery he had never felt needed solving.

Funny that.

One would think after the first year or so of playing the two of them would have begun to wonder exactly who they were.

Maybe there was a simplicity in not knowing, a small amount of joy that Alric couldn't even really describe. It was knowing the fact that they were there, that eventually, even if it took years, he would be able to come back to the game and play it until the end. That was a happy enough occasion for him, a happy enough thing. Slowly he reached out and moved the next piece, sending the action towards his unknown friend.

[I'm not that old.]

 

[Danger Arceneau]

[ Just well aged, right? ]

Danger would chuckle out, setting down the datapad as she returned her attention towards the Dejarik board in front of her.

One week. One week with the apartment to herself while [member="Alric Kuhn"] traveled to Empress Teta to meet with his estranged daughters. She was happy for him, happy for the girls. The joy on his face at the news that Rose would be coming home was certainly infectuous… But that didn’t change the churning, twisting, freefalling feeling she felt at the pit of her stomach at the week that came after.

A deep, weary exhale flowed from the woman’s lips, green orbs of emerald drifting from carved wooden Dejarik monster pieces. A finger would lightly rock the M’onnok back and forth upon the ivory checkered desk. She felt like a blasted ninny at being so worried. At the near freezing trepidation that ran down her spine like ice. All that went through her mind was the image of Rose and her reaction, and subsequently her mind filling in the endless similiar or worse possibilities with Rose.

“Gorram it,” the curse fell with frustration, attempting to distract her mind by playing the game. It was her move now, and this particular cycle was nearing an end. A few more moves would determine the victor.

… but what if things go to the Nine Hells?

With exasperation, Danger left the carved Dejarik monster rocking as she flung herself back upon her seat, arms coming to rest at her sides, jerking her attention towards the solarium glassteel viewscreen beside her. The slow spinning planet below silently mocked her with its seeming serenity, gentle streaking clouds covering the vast oceans and verdant terrain below.

Alric said he loved her. Needed her. And while it was all she could ask for, all she ever wanted… for some reason she couldn’t quite put herself out to make that commitment. To take it beyond where she and he had come thus far. Her right hand rose, a finger slipping between her teeth in fretful thoughts that internal demons wrecked havoc on her mind.

This was all her. She knew it. Maybe it was all too surreal. Or maybe she didn’t quite believe that this all wasn’t a dream, the ‘Verse ready to snatch it away at a point when she can finally accept things as they are. It was this constant back and forth; something she realized only grew worse with Alric’s absence and the growing fear that knew well if she even brought a measure of discomfort to the girls, she’d step away.

Alric had assured her he want her by his side; but Danger knew well that the binds of blood were far stronger and not something she was willing to allow break or wreck havoc. She lost two of her own before they had their first breath…

She couldn’t imagine parting with them if they’d lived.

 

[Alric Kuhn]

[member="Danger Arceneau"]

[Maybe not so well]

That was the message he sent back, the meaning behind it cryptic to his opponent, but clear to him.

The truth was that age had worn on him quite a bit, had bit down and ground him slightly. It was tough to admit, but when he looked at the cane at his side he knew that it was the truth. The small piece of wood that he now needed to support himself seemed to taunt him, always looking at him. He could still go without it, though after an hour of standing he would curse himself for doing so. Perhaps that was childish, the thought that he was getting old, or maybe that was just aging.

The truth was with everything that had happened, with all that had gone on over the last few months...

He was okay with it.

Alric might have been getting old, but that age had come with something he'd never thought of. Patience. It had brought him patience, true patience. It was a gift that Alric had never thought he had wanted nor needed, a gift that only saw it's true light when one looked back. Due to his new found patience Alric now had everything he could have ever wished for, everything he could have wanted. His daughters were growing before his eyes, he had a loving fiance, and finally he was okay with simply...being.

He needed no game, no thrill, nothing. He was happy.

[But...that might not be a bad thing]