My head was spinning, I refused to open my eyes but I knew at least I was on my back and in a somewhat comfy bed. I didn’t want reality to begin just yet.

“Is that really him?” I heard a feminine voice from afar

Down the hallway maybe?

Another voice replied, more masculine than the other, “That is… what Cillean said.” The hitch in his voice was punctuated by what sounded like a roller cart filled with bottles and phials being rolled over cobblestone. I barely made out the name. Eventually the sound rolled away and the voices faded to murmurs.

Cillean… ah, so this wasn’t a dream or some bad trip? Maybe I fell unconscious in the woods and some Irish trucker found me and that’s the name… my thoughts trailed off as the reality began to set in. I inhaled slowly, quietly, through my nostrils. I filled my lungs, and continued to do so until I could feel my chest expand and threaten to burst.

You got this, my boy. Just, uh… play it cool, read the room—Get the vibes, man!

I exhaled the great burst of insecurity and self-doubt away and into the ether. My eyes burst open, ready to carpe the diem. I glanced around the room. The ceiling had those fancy exposed wooden beams that you always see in those bougie Southern style homes. Though, I suspect I wasn’t in Texas or something. The walls a hearty stonework, expertly hewn with nary an imperfection that could be seen.

“The property brothers would absolutely coom at the sight of this place,” I chortled to myself, realizing I muttered it out loud. My right hand gestured towards a glass window in the corner next to a small writing desk and chair, “Ah, yes,” I put on my best fake posh accent, “such a bespoke and illuminating breakfast nook slash counting money corner. Muffie can pour over her earnings from her compa—”

Suddenly the deeper voice from earlier joined my own, “Property brothers. Mm. Bartleby & Gundir. Good men. It’s rare to see a Half-Orc and Dwarf get along but their renovations on the walls revealed a true brotherhood.” The owner of the voice, a fair skinned gentleman with a snow-white moustache and bald head clearly dropped a few eaves after shaking the Hells out of his cart. He wore a white tunic, quite baggy, and some equally baggy trousers. To tie it all together was a leather apron stained with a myriad of questionable colors.

My hand still extended towards my supposed breakfast nook but I quickly rallied myself and thrust that hand towards the gentleman for a firm handshake, as if it were all intended, “H-Hey, howdy, nice to meet ya I assume you’re the proprietor of this fine and dandy urgent care clinic?” Suddenly I realize I grabbed the man’s hand without the social cues to go for the shake, and then my words begin to flow like a river, “Bartleby & Gundir, eh? Wow! I don’t think you can call them Dwarves though. Anyway, walls, huh? This a gated community?” Then they flowed like a waterfall, “Wait you have Orcs? Wow, blood and thunder, my dude. Are they like the stocky ones or gi-gundo ones?”

The man quickly yanked his hand back and produced a rag from nowhere. His voice stopped me as he began, his accent a weird mix of Scottish and Polish, “Settle, boy. Settle. Sit,” he gestured with the rag, flipping it towards the chair like a noble directing the help. I complied.

I took seat in my newfound throne, right leg crossed over my left. As I settled myself in to hear this man out, another person in the room caught my attention. It was me. A mirror in the opposing corner greeted me. There I sat, drab skinny pants from the clearance at BJ Maxx with a faded out black hoodie, obscure band logo that no one knows on the back. Trust me, they’re too hard for you. My messed brown hair, two months past due for a haircut caused a slight frown to form at the corner of my lips. An Alabama 8 and a New York 5 overall I’d say.

A cleared throat ripped me from my reverie. Catch up with you later, hunk.

“You have a million questions. I can give you the answers but, like a pond chilled from the Grim Dark Mountains, you must ease yourself into the waters. Do not go rushing in,” my newfound Father figure continued to grant me wisdom nuggets. It felt like it was in one ear and out the other.

“… you see, we haven’t the foggiest where they went. How or why. There are countless conspiracies, it is all hog wash. Do not heed them. We are just pleased you are here.” He followed his words with a warm smile.

Wait, what? I realized I had been mostly staring at the mirror and imagining how tall a Half-Orc was in comparison to me. I blinked a few times.

Lock it in, Marius.

I beamed a smile back, “I’m just tickled to be here, sir.”

“Ross, please. Hadavern Ross, the university Physiologist here in Freeport,” he bowed his head from his newfound leaning post against the door frame. His white moustache did a little dance as he spoke, “No tickling here though. And your name?” I really wish he had a pipe too. It would really complete the look.

“Mariu—” I choked on my words and held up a finger indicating I needed a moment.

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

You could really reinvent yourself, my man. But your name already sounds like a pompous kid going to the dive bars to hit on poor girls. Hrm. My eyes darted around the room from object to object, the cogwheels in my brain turning at rapid speeds. A bastard sword leaned itself in the corner of the room, adjacent from the cabinet and washing basin.

“Uh… cabi… Bed Bastard. Yeah,” I nodded a few times, testing it out in my head, then I repeated it out loud ensuring I said it with my chest, “Bed Bastard.”

Ross was staring upwards at the ceiling. “Why are you pointing up? By Crob’s Balls, did the leak return?”

I glanced at my still raised ‘one moment’ finger and shrugged. “Yeah, no, I was coughing. Name is Marius.” I assumed last names would be irrelevant for now. Maybe my creativity can be used for a proper surname.

Ross glanced downwards, “Ah, Marius. A pleasure.” His lips quivered, the corners threatening to frown as he looked at me. It was hard to shake the disappointment.

I leaned back in the chair, “So, uh, can you go back to that bit about some missing people.” No point in hiding my lack of attention.

“Yes…” his voice trailed a bit, then he cleared his throat, “our heroes. Good folk of legend that rise from meager backgrounds to challenge the evils of our world. The types of adventurers who approach you day after day and demand quests.”

I chortled a bit at that, “You, uh… lost your main characters, huh?” My mind began to wander again.

I bet they were sent to my world. There’s a barbarian in my Chevy, I know it.

There was no humor with Ross, he simply slowly nodded his head. He then strode across the room to glance out at the other window. He then pointed towards one of the panes, no doubt at an object I couldn’t see because I was sitting down across the room. “We have tall ships on the horizon. Scouts say they wave colors never seen before.”

He looked back at me, “This is when we need folk like them. Adventurers. I’m just a simple Professor of Arcane Physiology and Magicked Arts. I have to remain here, for the people,” he pressed his palms to his chest, “but you can help us and my people.”

My eyebrow arched at the flowery title and I somehow doubted this man could conjure some RPG style nonsense. Maybe this was just a super lazy society.

“I mean…” My voice trailed a bit after I lost my train of thought. I stared at the floor; the cobblestone lines intricately connected to the next. My brain leapt, grabbing the escaping tail of my words, “… I’m all for helping you and your peoples, of course. However, generally I’d need a lil’ more consent and maybe, you know, being asked first? You ambush me with a cat?” My eyes had settled on Ross, locking with his own.

There was a flash of compassion, then a slight chuckle. He shook his head, “Wrong man. That would be Cillean who spirited you here and left me to give you harrowing news before you break fast.” He shrugged his shoulders and looked at me with a Sorry, kid! face. He strode across the room once more and grabbed a basket, removing a handkerchief to reveal some bread. It was like the stick bread you get from the bakery once in a blue moon because you were high at check out and it smelled so damn good.

Ross ripped a piece, tossing it to me. I held my hands out to catch it but it sailed past. He began to pour some water from a nearby pitcher. “We’re going to need you to accept the reality of the situation. I know, Cillean knows, and you know, that you are not quite as we imagined.” He walked back over, handing me a mug of water.

I grabbed the mug with my left hand as my right hand leaned over to grab the bread I missed. I straightened my back in the chair and took a swig of the refreshing water. Shockingly cold.

“Devilishly handsome?” I cheesed the fantasy doctor.

He shook his head, “Lacking.”

“Well. Shit.” I leaned back in the chair, biting off some bread. Surprisingly warm.

“What do you expect of me? To fight some boats? I can’t use magic and, well… I know my cousin who has a gun he might let us borrow if you just get me back.” I plead with my words. There was mostly truth to it but if I got home, I could just escape these guys.

Ross quickly chided, “Use your words before starting a fight. You will be our ambassador, a champion on behalf of Freeport. We’re known far and wide for our strong-willed adventurers and we will not have the college besmirched.”

“Huh. So, I’d just be the face of your little school? You gonna teach me a magic trick or two just in case the friendly folk from across the sea want a show?” My tone full of piss and vinegar.

The man straightened his back and returned to the door frame, his body language indicating he was no longer interested in being here.

“You will be trained, yes. The ships are still weeks out. Though, your affinity for touching the Fade is yet to be determined. Perhaps you will just be a dunce we armor up and pose at the waterfront,” his ‘nice guy’ façade beginning to crack, “Someone will come to retrieve you and see what can be molded from this…” he gave me a quick up down, “… clay.” He turned on a heel and shut the door behind him.

I sigh loudly as I lean forward, putting my head between my hands, elbows rest on my thighs, mind racing.

Even fantasy realms have their dicks. Don’t sweat it, man. This is your chance. New opportunity to turn this around, make something great. I rocked my feet moving to and fro, from the balls of my heels to the tips of my toes.

I lift my head from my hands and simply rest my chin on my interlocked fingers, eyes gazing at the same window Ross had pointed at. “Armor sounds cool. I like boats too. Guess that means I am seaside, so that isn’t too bad…”

I hoist myself to my feet to approach the window and gaze out. The sun was in the process of waking, rising from its’ slumber. A golden glow cast itself across countless overlapping roof tiles below. I suddenly realized I was quite high up. Was I in a skyscraper?

I pressed my head to the window pane. The coolness was a welcome reprieve from the stuffy room. My eyes darted from feature to feature. Ah, the ocean! I glanced outward and noticed the sky and ocean were nearly indistinguishable. I squinted my eyes trying to see boats to no avail.

“Freeport, eh?” I pried my dome piece from the warmed glass. “Sounds fancy.”

My feet moved and then my fingers acted on their own accord, wrapping around the hilt of the bastard sword in the corner. “Maybe a warrior. I bet they got good stats here, maybe some cool talents…” I struggled to lift the heavy steel until I readjusted my grip. “There we go…” I pointed the blade towards the breakfast nook, the tip shook erratically as I tried to hold it with one hand.

“Hark! Tis’ I Marius Bed Bastard of the Freeports!” I exclaimed out loud to the chair. My mind began to wander once more and I lowered the blade. Suddenly a confused look was plastered on my face.

“What the fuck is the Fade? Isn’t that from that dead seri—”

Two loud raps sound from my chamber door and I dropped my sword. Butter fingers.