Rowan stared at the sea of endless warm white. He floated soundlessly, wholesomely, peacefully-
“Get this turtle strangling, tree pounding, pie whacking piece nonsense stared you heap of wiggling screws and bolts! I have waited long enough.”
[I take it, then, that you have completed your mandatory moment of relaxation, Mister Walker. Do take notice that, if you once again use prohibited language, you shall be put back in timeout.]
“Yes, I have taken notice, you unwelcome piece of ones and zeros. This is the third time we have had this conversation.”
[Indeed, your slow uptake of basic information has undoubtedly been shocking. Now let us move on… Three hours and 23 minutes ago you have died.]
“So I have noticed.”
[Per your life insurance, the continents of your memory chip have been uploaded to the AFTERLIFE servers. Here you can live the rest of your afterlife without the petty concerns of mortality. Now you must choose what world server you shall be uploaded to.]
“Legends of the Knights of the Revengeance, the Return of the Reckoning.”
[Pardon me?]
“The stupid fantasy video game one, I don’t know what it is called.”
[Ah, that would be Aard, our high quality ‘free to live’ Role Playing Game (RPG) experience. Do take notice that your level of insurance allows free entry to some of our premium experiences. Are you sure you do not want to hear your other options?]
“No, the nut juggling, zucchini gagging mountain of blubber that caused me to end up dead is in the fantasy video game one. And I plan to go pay him a visit.”
[Excellent, let us proceed then. The next stage is character creation, this process is fully randomised.]
“Ok, go ahead…”
[But for only 149.99 Ƒ you can buy the character personalisation package! This comes with the basic suite of character creation tools and options.]
“Wait, what?”
[And that is not all, for an additional 99.95 Ƒ you can buy the extended option-]
“No, no, stop, no! I ain’t buying anything, what is this madness?”
[In order to recuperate to cost of AFTERLIVE’S high quality ‘free to live’ experiences some parts of the feature set will be sold at a small premium. This ensures that AFTERLIFE can make its most popular product available to everyone. Even those without the financial means to pay the upfront or insurance fees.]
“What part of 149.99 Ƒ plus 99.95 Ƒ is supposed to be a small premium?”
[The AFTERLIFE merely wishes to offer ‘options’ for its economically diverse player base. We can assure you the economy-class option will result in a satisfying experience regardless. Do you wish to hear the rest of the high-value character customisation offer?]
“No, go fiddle some other donkeys with your marketing excrement. I am not paying a dime extra for you to copy over some ones and zeroes. Besides, I am completely broke anyway, haven’t got a dime on my account.”
[Excellent, we will generate your character then. And done.]
A second being now appeared in the white void.
“It is… A goat in a dress.”
[No, it is a female Capra. Goats do not stand on two legs, Mister Walker.]
“It has a beard and claws…”
[That is indeed correct, Mister Walker. If you are unsatisfied with your character you can reroll it for a small payment of 19.95 Ƒ.]
“I told you I don’t have any money!”
[Then we are done here, Mister Walker. Have fun.]
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In the middle of a sunburned boneyard stood a tiny goat creature that had not been there a moment ago. She looked down at her claw-tipped fingers and flowery pink dress.
“FUUU-”
But before she could vocalise her nuanced thoughts the profanity filter kicked in, freezing her in place. Then, pushed by a small gust of wind, she unceremoniously toppled over and landed head first in a nest of ants. She was certainly thinking of the glorious journey that awaited her, as she watched the workers marching up her nose. No doubt she would make countless goat friends along the way and maybe even meet her own goat prince riding a white donkey.
Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.
A swarm of ants bites you for 2 damage.
Go now, tiny goat, your destiny awaits!
A swarm of ants bites you for 2 damage.
Profanity timeout released.
“Gyaaaaaaaa!”
After carefully prying the twelfth ant out of her nose, Rowan staggered to the shade of a nearby rock. It was hot, unbearably hot. Within a handful of minutes her fur had become a sweaty soaked rag and the animalistic musk she released was… odorous to say the least.
“You got to be kidding me.”
Her feet were hooved, on her head grow curled horns, and she was quite sure the usual undercarriage that used to hang between her legs was missing.
“How the… fermenting rat corpses am I supposed to strangle that pungent frog-humper like this.”
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Personal Quest Added: Strangle That Pungent Frog-Humper
Task: Strangle Olivier Oldward the Third
You seek to strangle Olivier Oldward the Third, which might prove quite difficult for a goat as he is notoriously well guarded. Why don't you start with something simpler first?
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The words flooded into her brain in the form of pure comprehension.
“Thank you, game. I hadn’t figured that out yet. What about you tell me something useful next time.”
----------------------------------------
Personal Quest Added: Hit the Road
Task: Stop sitting around here and find civilisation before you starve to death.
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“Never mind, just be silent.”
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The sun slowly crawled over the blue sky, seemingly chasing around a second sun that was about to pass beneath the horizon. The tiny goat creature leapt from shadow to shadow. The soft sounds of her hooves tapping against the scorching hot ground were only heard by the wind. But after a good few hours, the first visages of dusty city walls rose into view. Behind the first set rose countless more, all forming concentric circles that soared ever higher. With all roads leading to a glorious palace in the clouds.
Traders, caravans, adventures and other odd folk crowded at the city gate. A myriad of scrappy looking people sat on small tarps, attempting to peddle various peculiar rocks, plants, and dead animal bits. Goods were inspected, taxes were played and bribes changed hands.
Rowan finally came to a halt between the eclectic crowds of travellers queuing up for the gate. Few among them were humans, most of them far from it.
Orcs, minotaurs, lizard people, although most of them even managed to look half decent by human standards. At least far above the standard set by a tiny bearded goat in a dress.
Rowan stared at the checkpoint, tolls and taxes clearly marked on sides of the road.
13.50 Ƒ, admission fee non-citizen, bank withdrawals possible.
“You got to be kidding me, this simulation runs on real-world currency?”
She looked around at the barren wasteland. Further on a shanty town stood against the wall. Its inhabitants counted creatures similar in size and beauty to Rowan's current form.
----------------------------------------
Personal Quest Complete: Hit the Road
As a reward you get to not die of starvation, wee!
Personal Quest Added: Get to Work
Task: Work in the ghettos to earn your passage through the gate.
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“Work?!”
She scoffed.
“I haven’t worked a day in my life and I am not about to-”
Boff- a sudden impact at the back of her head send her rolling over the floor.
You took 5 points of dirty boot damage.
“Look Bob, told you goats could fly.”
Animalistic laughter rang out from behind. Rowan attempted to scramble to her feet, but before she could do so a large hand grabbed her by the leg. With a single motion she was lifted into the air and dangled upside down.
“Now goat, that’s what your kind gets for standing still in the middle of the road.”
At the other side of the arm was a squat looking ogre with shoulders that seemed unnaturally broad. His voice contained power, but a glance at his beady eyes revealed that intelligence had not come along with that.
“It is quite impolite to flip over a lady’s dress like that, you know.”
The ogre’s eyes wandered upward. A fact that could have scarcely interested Rowan back when her hose used to hang there and even less now.
“Ey look, this goat is a bi-”
The ogre paused, searching his vocabulary for a non-curse word to describe a woman, but woefully falling short.
“Bovine, bohemian, behemoth, bacchanalia, braggadocio?”
It took a while for the ogre to realise he was being made fun of, but after his compatriots stated to chuckle it clicked.
“Shut it goat! You smell.”
“Excellent retort.”
Now Rowan had, at this point, expected to be thrown. She had concluded that it was probably the most effective we to get him to release his grip. But she had quite understated the ogre’s strength. And as she soared through the sky she found that she had an unsettling amount of time to contemplate her mistake.
With a frightening crack, she landed a good couple of dozen feet away in a filthy ditch.
You take 30 pissing of ogres while you are tier 0 damage.
“That is what you get, garbage goat!”
----------------------------------------
“Uuuuugh.”
Rowan checked her limbs and concluded that they were still firmly attached to her body. Her ribcage, however, feels like it was on fire and she would not be surprised if one rib was broken. She slowly crawls back out of the ditch, taking short breaths to reduce the pain.
The ogre and friends had gone back to standing in line, having lost interest. As they moved closer to the gate, they got locked in-between countless carts, horses and other people, forming a solid block of bodies.
“Well, at least I know who I am going to rob first.”
She swallowed the pain and started a slow tread to the line. Having your head come up slightly higher than a man’s knee was proving inconvenient in many ways. But when carts, horses and people get packed this thickly it was a godsend. Nobody looked down, they couldn’t. Their view would be blocked by the objects in front of them. So Rowan could weave, duck and dodge under carts and between horses without problems.
Before long, the fat legs and howling laughs of ogre and friends were right in front of her. They all wore armour made of hard leather combined a shirt of chainmail. Their large packs and belts were filled with pouches and knives. This, along with their heavy clubs and swords revealed that they camped out in the wastes on a regular basis.
Rowan felt up some of their knives until she found one that smoothly slid from its scabbard. It had been a well-made once upon a time, the steel and handle were of high quality and the tip was still razor-sharp. But the owner had seemingly hacked through bone with it and most of the blade was now dull as a butter knife.
She took a couple of steps back and aimed for a loose pack tied to the rucksack of the rightmost ogre friend. As her hand slowly took the weight of the pack the tip of the knife easily slid through the soft leather straps. She took the pack and threw in over her shoulder while eying her next target.
With a couple of smooth steps, she manoeuvred near the bonehead himself and took his waist coin pouch in a similar manner. Rowan hopped back under a card and cut the remaining leather bands down to her size. By tying a couple of knots turned it into a small backpack. Just as she stuffed her knife down her belt a furious roar erupted beside her.
“Thieeeeef!!!!”