And General the Beck duly noted her options: surrender, or fight on. The People's Liberation of the Nyetverse Army had gathered off the Madagascaran coast; the single Beckian army was outnumbered 10:1. Reports had been pouring in all day of the powerful Nyetian forces' tear through the African continent, blazing through the Sahara as though a comfortable Scottsdale resort. Lives could clearly be spared by the simple utterance of any sort of "I surrender" category words or a symbolic laying down of arms, or waving of white hankies; the reconstruction effort would be that much easier, and relations between the person-states that much simpler to reconcile. Drop her sword? Ha. Nay. The Beck placed dagger betwixt teeth and rolled her lonely die in an outlandishly odds-unfavored attempt at last-stand success. She rolled: 4.
6, 6 and 5 for the attackers. And the Beckians were no more.
Let us ne'er forget that sad day, when the stubborn-actions of a once chess-board flipper cost so many imaginary beings their imaginary lives. On the plus side, General the Beck, with the help of words like "Hedgehog" and triple word score spaces, is better at Scrabble.
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