The town seemed lively enough as I approached, despite the slowly darkening twilight hour. Children milled about in the street, merchants pushed carts through town, and smartly dressed (well, compared to me) villagers moved through the streets with purpose.

The first thing that struck me, as I moved in and saw the details more clearly, was that every single 'human' seemed to have some type of deformity. This one had a little horn sticking out of his forhead. That one had a rhythmic clopping hoof where her foot should have been. Yes, they were for all intents and purposes, 90% human. But there was always something of a... demonic... nature that marred their otherwise bland features.

Eventually, I moved in close enough to read the status bars next to their heads. Each had a clear "Human(Native)" written next to their race. And it soon became clear to me that, apparently, the locals on this world all had some bit of demonic blood in their veins. 

Even so, I seemed to fit in well enough. The townsfolk spared barely a glance in my direction as they hurried past to their destinations. I managed to catch the attention of a vendor with a cart and hurried to take advantage of their good will, "Sir, sir! What are you selling!"

The man glanced at me briefly, shrugging and tossing out a practiced, "Sausage on a stick, 10 coppers."

I tried to put the indignation out of my mind, as it slowly dawned on me that I had murdered three kobolds and still didn't even have enough money for a single food-cart sausage. "Thank you sir. Can you tell me, is there somewhere a newcomer should go to get acquainted here?"

I tried to smile, half heartedly, but my spellcraft still sent tiny tendrils of hate through my body with every beat of my heart, and I had a feeling that my expression would come off as more creepy than cute. 

The man simply gestured vaguely at a large building and raised his voice, repeating more into the busy street than to me, "Sausage on a stick, 10 coppers."

I followed his vague gesture, wandering down the street toward the largish building. I attracted a couple of looks, most people eyeing the nightie that I was still wearing over my torso, but mostly was happy to go from point A to point B with hardly a second glance.

The door from the street I found to be unlocked - letting myself in and quickly looking around. A plaque on the door said simply, "City Hall, Oak Town" - though the more I looked at it, the more innately certain I was that the words themselves were not in English.

There was a man at a desk, in the middle of a lush room. Tapestries and rugs a-plenty lined every surface, and a narrow, oaken staircase lead up to a second story. That wasn't what was shocking to me though. What was shocking, rather, was the fact that a single, solitary light bulb dangled neatly over his desk. 

What kind of shit fantasy world was this anyway?

I walked up to inspect it from a closer angle and was relieved, at least, to see that there wasn't a filament inside. Instead, there was but a single, floating orb that glowed in soft luminescence. So it wasn't actual electricity, but rather some form of magical device that had pretty much the exact same effect. Still, subtract points for creativity there. It's like they weren't even trying or something.

The older man at the desk looked up at me. "Is there something wrong with the lightbulb, girl?" He said, not even trying to hide his cold, dismissive attitude. Plus, I had a name. And what's more, it would likely take him all of two seconds to glance over at the damn thing if his... UI... where at all similar to mine. That said, do NPCs have UI? Was this man an NPC? Whatever. 

"You people actually call it a lightbulb?" I deadpanned. "Seriously."

He simply frowned at me and his voice grew a touch colder. "Of course, what else would we call a damned light bulb. After all."

I mumbled to myself, "You're breaking my immersion here, old man number fifty two." In what I thought was too low a tone for him to notice. But, ya, I was in hell. Of course he friggin noticed.

"Listen here, pup." His use of the word 'pup' probably would have been endearing, if it wasn't for the fact that the sheer menace coating his voice was enough to send chills all the way up my spine. It was then that I noticed that the human didn't have any sign of demonic traits whatsoever. And likewise, something seemed different about him.

Checking to the right of his face, in the exact same way I had just judged him for not doing himself, I quickly saw the difference.

Arrol Vendetta 

Level 2

Human

He... apparently... wasn't a local. And, what's more, he was a higher level than me.

"Listen here, pup," he repeated. "I don't know what you think this is or what whichever Bob that brought you here told you. But this isn't a god damned game. So you can go ahead and put little concepts like 'immersion' and 'Roleplaying' right out of your stupid little head." He glanced down at his book in a huff and, sullenly, shut it. "I guess you're a newb. That's fine, we get them occasionally. What with dreams of heroism and riches and women. Well, maybe not women, in your case. But then again maybe so. I'm not one to judge, after all." He glanced up and down at me, appraisingly.  

I opened and closed my mouth, slowly. It struck me, perhaps wisely, at that point that it would be not be a good idea to speak. 

"Now, let's see," he continued. "Might as well make yourself useful while you're still relatively sane and unscarred. Tell me, girl, what skills exactly do you have?" It sounded like a question. You could even almost hear the question mark at the end of it, with his voice rising just a little bit higher as he finished. But, you know, that didn't seem to slow the old guy down, and he just kept right on going, "I don't know and I don't care if you are a Berserker, a Necromancer... a wizard?" Despite the tone, you could, never the less, here just a note of hope in that last pronouncement. "Whatever, what matters is what exactly it is that you can do. Now, spit it out. Spit it out."

I opened my mouth again, slowly. Questioningly. He, apparently had decided that he actually wanted to hear my answer this time, and was holding his tongue with the patience of a mean and somewhat gouty saint. Ya right.

"I... er. I can heal people. And remove debilitating injuries." It didn't seem wise to announce my affinity to hellfire, nor my newfound propensity for channeling Belial's own personal hatred for all things living. Not by way of introduction, at least.

Apparently, I had guessed right. Or... very, very wrong, in retrospect. For the old man scrambled faster than I had thought was possible out of his big oaken chair, and he scrambled behind me, shutting the heavy door with a distinct 'click'.

"Well, now that is a gift. It's rare, rare indeed, for a soul with a propensity for healing to find itself damned and in this place. Yes, yes. It's actually quite a gift you have got there. Quite the gift indeed." He quickly rubbed his hands together, and, it seemed to me, that the little drop of drool at the corner of his mouth, it dropped just a little bit further down his face. It was only then that I became, suddenly, very aware that I was alone in a room with a man who was, presumably, about twice as powerful as myself. And that I was armed, mainly, with a shordsword I couldn't use and healing-focused spells.

It's a good thing he was a responsible clerk... or something... for City Hall, and not a demon in some rotting hellscape. Oh wait. 

Shit, shit, shit, shit...

The old man now smiled at me, seeing understanding and fear flash across my face. And it wasn't by any means a reassuring expression. "Well, I can see from that look there that you understand the gist of it. Follow me, follow me. No reason to let something so valuable out to get slaughtered. Wreched apart until there is nothing left between your ears but some cottonballs and twine. You wouldn't last two minutes out in the wilderness, anyway. Oh, no no. Not someone guildless and alone. That is a simple fact." He sputtered on, falling back into his kindly old man rambling, but no longer hiding the wicked edge underneath it. "Don't just stand there. I think it would be better for all of us if you come along with me, girl. I think you will find it a lot more comfortable to cooperate. Much better than being lead away in manacles, wouldn't you say? Come, come."

He reached out, and a grip like some merciless vice closed around my shoulder. He tugged, slowly, and I followed along. Reluctantly. With the sullen knowledge that I would be healing bruises very soon from where he did touch.

"Yes, you see, noob. You don't get to be level two without some serious skills, after all. Don't fight, come come."

And that, dear reader, is how I found myself residing in a little room off of the side of the Oak Town City Hall. With a bed, and a bedpan, and a very, very sturdy, locked door keeping me very firmly in place.

And I had plenty of time there to ponder how, when you come to fantasyland you expect to be the knight. With pretty armor, and horses, and flashing swords. But it's much, much less fun when you turn out to be the Rapunzel.