+Alert! Under Article 494, Section 35, Paragraph 1 of the Trans-Galactic Treatise on Eminent Domain, the star system designated as AX5-5471 is scheduled for conversion into System space.+

+You have two hours until conversion. Please select your Class. If you do not select a Class, one will be selected for you.+

*****

It’s March twelfth, and it’s been four days since everyone heard that message.

Four days since monsters appeared and began slaughtering everyone.

Four days since the world ended.

When the equivalent of three goblins appeared for each person in a given area, we were lucky. My friends and I, all avid gamers, happened to be at Donnie’s house on Beard Road. Located just across I70, it’s far enough outside Springfield to miss the rampaging monsters, and the giant horse ranch across the street made for a great place to hole up. Thank whatever gods there are for weekly game nights.

After we picked our classes and equipped as many random weapons as we could, the goblins came. We made the smart choice to gather together, using our superior numbers to make up for our lack of gear. Though Donnie and his wife Sarah had many bladed weapons, not having armor really sucked.

All nine of us, including two children, made it through our goblin horde. With a break in the fighting, we ran to the ranch and holed up inside the massive house there.

Three stories tall and 6,000 square feet, the house has a large, wrap-around porch. A stone facade covers the front, with dark wood planks on the rest. A small balcony juts from the third floor master bedroom, overlooking the Olympic sized swimming pool in the back.

Though the home owners were slain by their own monstrous assailants, their house was a veritable treasure trove of weapons. The husband was a doomsday prepper with a lot of rifles. The extra supplies came in handy, too. Unfortunately for us, the guns stopped working after the first day. Luckily, there were lots of bows.

By the end of the second day, another seven people made it to the ranch. Most of them were younger, with only one older than thirty. It was a boon they brought their own bladed weapons. One is a medieval buff who owns a full set of Swiss plate armor. She took Fighter as her Class.

The third day saw another wave of monsters. This one included a few beasts that looked like a cross between a lion and a bear. Whatever they were, they didn’t die easily. A few hours later, five more survivors arrived. Lucky for them, they’d been at a gun and knife show at the Clark County Fairgrounds.

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From what they told us, it was a massive, pitched battle with flying beasts and monsters with magical powers assaulting in every direction. Even with the arsenal available to them, hundreds of people died. The five that made it out thought they were the only ones.

Now, with twenty-one survivors, our group is running out of food and water fast. Once the municipal utilities stopped working after the first day, the stockpiled supplies were almost gone.

After some discussion, and a potent desire on my part to get out of this house because of the building odor of unwashed bodies, we decided I should lead an excursion. Once an officer in the military, I was the only one with any survival and/or leadership training.

Technically, that was true. In reality, I’d taken a few land navigation courses. As a clerk, it meant those were the only times I’d been in the field.

I address the assembled group. “Ok people, I’m going on a supply run. Who’s coming with me?”

Four people volunteer: Jennifer, Justin, Andy, and Brian.

Jennifer is the reenactor in the Swiss full plate. Tall, ruggedly pretty, and with a look like she could tear you in half, the woman’s short, bleach white hair goes well with her Asian features. Wielding a broadsword like it was a paperweight, Jennifer and her armor gave me a bit of hope we’d all make it back alive.

Justin, one of the gaming group, picked Paladin. He’s of average height and build, with a large, scraggly blonde beard. An avid LARPer, he knows his way around a sword. Several years of various reenactor groups and boffer sports gave him a great understanding of martial combat and a zeal for battle. Jennifer ensured he’s well equipped with a mace and short sword.

Andy. A frequent member of the gaming group, it was sheer coincidence he was visiting the nearby Rose Hill Cemetery when the world ended. The African American man is the definition of a wallflower, so I’m surprised he volunteered. Now a Rogue, his somewhat short, pudgy physique isn’t what you’d picture when thinking about stealth and dexterity. Though, he always wears all black. He picked out two large kitchen knives and a bow and quiver before we left.

Brian the Barbarian. It surprised no one when he picked that Class. Tall, large, and with well-groomed, jet black hair and beard, he’s the first one to join the excursion. Fashioning several animal skins rugs into armor, Brian picked up a sledgehammer and stood ready by the door.

Then there’s me, Jordan. While I exercise regularly, a sedentary job keeps me from being in great shape. My buzzed head and salt and pepper beard makes me look older than I am. During our first few days weathering monster attacks, I had plenty of time to think about why I picked Druid.

I’ve always liked the outdoors. For as long as I remember, my father and I would go camping and hiking. I was never a big hunter, but I do love airsoft and paintball. Something about stalking people in the woods just did it for me. Though I was a military man, my partial lack of color vision meant I had few job options. Working as a clerk wasn’t bad, but it was boring. I regretted it for the first two years, longing to go on extended maneuvers in the woods. Once my four was up, I left and never looked back.

With a hatchet in hand, I gather up the volunteers and head out.