He woke up with his face pressed against the floor, drooling.
His eyes moved independently of each other for a moment. Which was alarming, he decided.
There was more floating text waiting for him and he almost puked. His head felt warm. And *well-used*. Like he had just done a math marathon, and then wrote a few papers. And then defended them.
He stared at the text balefully. It didn’t go away. He sighed and actually started to read.
Class: [Natural inscriptionist] gained!
[Natural inscriptionist] level 1!
Skillset: [Runic Enchantment] gained!
Passive Skill: [Nimble hands] gained!
He sighed again and considered what he knew about the universe, his years studying constant laws like thermodynamics and weak nuclear forces, and about how much a universe without consistent laws would not exist for a long enough time to create things like living organisms capable of observing them.
And how many of those rules were being broken by these floating text boxes.
“Like the conservation of energy, for example,” he mumbled. “Clearly this implies some type of system. An outside actor or force.” He paused at that thought, rocking back on his heels.
Slowly, tentatively, he called out, “..hello?” Not even chirps. He cleared his throat with more vigor, “Hello!”
Finally he ran to the single shuttered window. Throwing it open, he slapped his hands against the sill. With all the air in his lungs, “HEEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLOOOOOOOOOOOO!!”
He sighed quietly. Like a jammed printer, just yelling at it wasn’t going to solve his problems.
“..Hi.” A gruff voice in the distance had him instantly underneath the table. He started hyperventilating.
At some point he’d get tired of being wrong and the universe would give him one. Any time now. He sent up a brief prayer to whatever distant and uncaring source that had sent him to this plane, and silently begged for mercy.
Footsteps gradually sounded on the other side of the broken door. His breathing intensified.
The footsteps stopped, and there was an awkward cough. He summoned up enough bravery to peek from the table.
A man’s head covered in straw blond hair was smiling around the cracks in the dilapidated door. “Soooooo….Is this a bad time?”
--
The straw blond man was a merchant, who stopped at this homestead from time to time for a hot meal and quick business. They sat across from each other, the merchant having the sense to pack his own folding camp chair amongst his goods.
The height difference was a little awkward.
He could feel the merchant studying him, and knew exactly what the man saw -- nothing remarkable. Sandy brown hair, lanky frame, brown eyes, and an unusually cheery grin. Except now he was..reduced in his circumstances. His usual poorly-kept features and slid all the way to ‘destitute.’
A face you could forget.
He liked it, because it meant people underestimated him. That was good, because he could use every advantage he could get. Especially considering he wasn’t rocking a shirt and wearing cast off goblin shoes. Yuck.
“Ahem. Forgive me for being startled.. You kind of caught me at a strange time. I’m Charley. Charley Peace.” And as he spoke, his mind already started cataloging all the information he could from this man.
Item: antiquated clothing, probably hand stitched dirty.
Item: armed with a short sword and sheath. Not fancy, used. Placed on the table in (his) hands reach.
Item: lack of zippers on the pants and sheath is a ring belt.
“Anders. I do the circuit around Chimera, most days. Dry goods [Merchant].”
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
Anders was a man who looked to be in his forties, with deep tan lines from the sun. He had a full bread, also blonde, that softened his face. His brown eyes looked hard, but the crows feet around them suggested a softer interior.
The merchant took in the house, slowly, pausing at the bloodstains on the floor. “Before we get any further, I have to ask. The family here, the Wolhmer’s.” He didn’t make it a question, but Charley knew what he meant.
Charley shook his head and looked down.
The merchant took it in, “Anything you can tell me?”
He thought about it. “Yes. The fire damage had gone cold by the time I spotted the house. Multiple footsteps in the mud near the door, which was broken. House was tossed through, I piled the debris outside against the wall. There was a short green skinned humanoid nailed to the wall behind you.” He paused for a moment. “I’m sorry to tell you this, but there weren’t any other bodies in the area.”
The merchant swore quietly to himself. They both suspected what that one meant. The merchant motioned forwards, “..and this was?”
“Two days ago.”
“Okay lad. I’m deeply sorry to hear it, and I wish I could say I was surprised. This area is already at the edge of what I feel comfortable walking through. Goblins. I’ll have to let the guilds know.”
The two men shared a contemplative silence for a moment.
Item: Areas of local territory are threatened by monsters, and he was lucky that he hadn’t run into any more on his hike down from the glade.
Item: Goblins were real, and real ugly, and a terrible way to die for people who didn’t like to be eaten.
Theory: low technology, sadly, confirmed. Violence seems commonplace. Area is destable and infested.
Conclusion: Leave locality immediately. Conceal origins under all circumstances. A shirt would also be nice.
The merchant cleared his throat and interrupted Charley’s thought process. “So, you better start at the beginning. Where do you come from?”
Cards on the table time. Charley told him everything, except the part about being from another world. That would just be crazy. Good way to get lynched in the forest.
He was a bad liar, anyway.
Once he was done, he searched the merchant’s face for the reaction.
The merchant whistled. “That’s the weirdest thing i’ve heard of in..well. That is the weirdest thing i’ve heard of. Ever.”
Charley thought about it for a moment. He’d played games on a computer before, and understand concepts like classes, levels, and the like. However horribly impossible his current circumstances, whatever strange reason he was standing where he was, there was nothing holding a candle to a floating menu screen when it came to weirdness.
Charley chuckled, “I’m getting that a lot, lately.”
The merchant struggled to find the right question after that. Charley could tell it wasn’t the last he’d ask of the event, but for now they both seemed comfortable shelving the experience for more important problems. Finally asked the question Charley feared. “And you’re from where?’
“Somewhere without goblins. Santa Fe.” He figured that was a safe answer. It was a mild risk, mentioning a town that he was almost sure that no one here had heard of. But if there was recognition, better it be now. And it would be weirder to not mention *something*.
The merchant waited a tick, to see if there was anything more coming. When there wasn’t, he blew some air out, “Well, Charley my friend, I tell you what. I strongly do not advise that you stay here. That sounded like an entire pack of goblins hit this place, and recently, and I’m not going to be staying here any longer than I have to.”
Charley nodded vigorously, “Oh I totally agree. Would you mind if I went with you?” He tried not to look too hopeful.
And failed.
The merchant nodded. “Oh aye, lad. I’ll not be leaving you in these plains. Wouldn’t want that on my conscious. Wife wouldn’t let me hear the end of it.” He paused briefly, “No offense, but you look like you lost a bet with a devil, and I think a stiff wind could knock you over.”
Charley nodded agreeably, not even a little bit embarrassed at the honest assessment. “I’m like ninety eight percent certain that I would die in the woods. Probably walking in the wrong direction. You’re looking at everything I own.” He spread his arms to indicate the large pile of nothing he was blessed with. Although he did remember hope. He got up and retrieved her from near the door were he had left her. “I did find the head of this hatchet buried in the goblin behind you, though.” he placed the repaired hatchet on the table.
Anders nodded agreeably. “One of mine. Sold it to the family maybe six months back.” He casually picked up the tool, and then the blood slowly drained from his face.
The merchant tried to speak. “Eep--.” Failed. Tried again, “This is enchanted.” His face slowly started changing to wonder. “Did you do this?”
Charley got defensive. “I replaced the axe handle and etched the surface, yes. I wasn’t trying to steal anything. I was just trying to stay warm.”
Anders suddenly laughed, uproariously, and in good cheer. “No lad, no!” He chortled, diffusing the tension in the moment easily. “You did this. In two days?”
Charley nodded, mollified.
The merchant followed the question, “You’re an [Enchanter]?”
“[Natural Inscriptionist]. But ah, i’m only level 1.” And he didn’t know the first thing about what that meant. Or how to replicate his success. He didn’t mention those things. No need to oversell it.
The Merchant nodded agreeably, waving his hands. “You’ll be welcome in Chimera, too right. Even without a copper to your name.” He began humming to himself as a look of avarice came over his features. “I’ll make sure of it.” He tossed the hatchet back to Charley, who caught it inexpertly. “Come on. Let’s get out of this dump.”
The merchant made for the door, where Charley could see a mule tied up some distance away. Charley shot up, and took a last look around.
He thanked the cabin and the family that had owned it before him.
And then he followed his future outside.
Charley frowned suddenly, “Hey, when did you learn how to speak English?”
--
Name: Charley Peace
Class: [Natural inscriptionist].
level: 1
Skillset:
[Runic Enchantment]
[Corvus Enca]. Level: 1. Permanent. Limited to lesser effects.
[Passive: Nimble hands]
--