Joseph hadn’t been able to sleep for the rest of that night, his mind having been set racing by this new revelation. He was still wide-awake by time the sun rose over his campsite, rifle in his lap. It just didn’t make sense, this had to still be Earth… all the wildlife he’d seen was from the Pre-End era! Deer, squirrels, even horses for crying out loud! Was it possible that he’d been swept up in a particularly strong portal storm? He’d never heard of it happening before, but what if those portals worked both ways? What if he got taken by one and deposited here, and somehow had his youth restored in the process?

It seemed so far-fetched, the portal storms never took, they only gave… unfortunately. Yet he couldn’t think of any reason aside from divine intervention as to how he came to be here. Maybe he had wound up in the far future of Earth instead? There were still mutants prowling about after all, the goblins were proof of that, as was Varig the dwarf… But then, where were the other breeds of freaks? Where were the hordes of the dead, the beasts that mimicked human speech, the interdimensional aliens? Back in the day he could hardly walk a mile without encountering some form of monstrosity, but here the battles had been sparse… at least thus far.

Perhaps it was the distant past? Maybe a sort of mythological era where dwarves and goblins existed? Maybe that could explain the similarities between this place and the Earth he knew? That hypothesis didn’t sit right with him either, maybe if there was a single moon and the scarring had been correct on at least one of them. No… a portal storm had to have taken him from his resting place at the Snake River, depositing him here in this forest on a completely alien planet. It would explain why the characters on the coin appeared illegible to him, they didn’t have roots in Latin or any of the eastern languages…

Well, the only written word he’d seen here was on the face of a coin, maybe those symbols weren’t letters at all. He’d need to find a real example of the written word here, but even then, would that really change things? The moons were different, no constellation was the same, there were goblins and dwarves, medieval wagons, well tailored people that dressed for style rather than protection…

The only thing that he could say was the same was the flora and fauna. Maybe this really was a different planet, but the life here was seeded from Earth. After all, those people he’d saved had been human, that horse had certainly been a normal animal, so was the deer from last night. Right as he had that thought, a cricket leaped out from behind a bush, and he pointed at it sharply.

“You’re a cricket!” He declared to the insect.

The bug didn’t seem to understand what he was on about, and continued about its business, hopping away with nary a care in the world. Even the bug life was the same here as back on Earth. It couldn’t really be a different planet… right? If it were, then Joseph’s arrival spelled horrible news for this place… if a Portal Storm really did bring him here…

Then The End was coming for this world, as it had for his.

Joseph shook his head. He didn’t know any of this for sure, it didn’t do any good for him to agonize about it. He needed to gather more information, blundering around in the dark like this wasn’t doing him any favors. He stood finally, stretching his limbs as he thought on what he should do. He could head back to Betty for a proper sleep or continue on his trek to see where the trail took him.

When he finished packing all the tools he had deployed around his camp, he made a decision. He’d keep following that trail, for at least another day or so before returning home. There had to be something that way, those travelers had been intending to head this way before, there had to be something of worth at the end of it. As he found his way back to that dusty road, he found himself praying that it would be a settlement.

There was much he needed to learn, and a good safe place to do it wouldn't go amiss. Joseph would still need to move Betty out of these woods at some point, best if he did it sooner, rather than later. It was unfortunate, but no matter what he did, some trees were going to be destroyed. Hopefully he’d only inflict minimal damage, even if this was another world, he didn’t want to ruin any more trees than was necessary.

So on he went, eyes growing heavy as the sun rose ever higher in the sky. His mind was still a whirl and there wasn’t anything he could do to quiet the dozens of different theories that crossed his mind on how he came to be here. Alien planet, far future or distant past, separate reality, heaven or hell, among several others. It was still blundering in the dark, but he had to admit, there was a strange joy he felt as he let his imagination go wild. This same feeling was usually reserved for the workbench, when he was drawing up blueprints; it was not an unwelcome feeling.

Sure, there was just a tinge of cosmic dread beneath all of it, but it wasn’t a feeling he was unfamiliar with. Best to just ignore it like usual.

It was when the sun was in the middle of the sky that he was finally drawn out of his thoughts. Joseph quickly ducked behind a nearby tree, drawing his binoculars and praying that they hadn’t spotted him. He leaned out slightly from behind his cover, peering through his binos to make out the finer details of the strangers. There was a group of travelers ahead, marching this way with a covered wagon drawn by two sturdy horses. A tired looking man lazily flicked the reigns forward from atop the coach, eyes glued to the earth between his beasts.

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The wagon itself carried only a single passenger it seemed, though he only could catch glimpses of dark hair past the driver. Four men wearing plate armor walked alongside the carriage, each wielding a crossbow. Finally he had found some more locals! If they weren’t too busy, he’d love to talk with them. The only way to learn the language would be to convey that he didn’t know it, maybe someone there would take a mutual interest in his own alien tongue?

A mutual learning experience would be the best-case scenario, worst-case… well, then those guards would fire off those crossbows as soon as they saw him. How to approach them? After a few seconds, he decided on his course of action, stepping out from behind the tree and casually approaching. Once they spotted him, the guards took aim, but didn’t fire. The coach slowed the wagon, his tired eyes narrowed as they looked Joseph over.

He was a gaunt and wiry man, with graying black hair and deep wrinkles. He could potentially be the grumpiest man that Joseph had ever seen. If he were to don the hood of that black cloak he wore, he’d be a spitting image of the grim reaper. The horses halted, and he turned his head to speak to the passengers of the wagon in a rushed whisper. Joe raised his hands, palm-outward as he waited to see what would happen.

It seemed whoever was riding in the back was in charge of this convoy, so how this encounter ended was ultimately up to them. After a moment, the coachman groaned, gesturing for him to approach. Joseph did so with a smile, hoping to make a good first impression on these folk. Of course this could be a ploy to lead him closer so those guards could fill him with bolts, but Joseph had heard no orders yelled out from the wagon for them to do so. They would assume that Joe could speak the same language as they did, so ordering something like that openly wouldn’t have made sense… unless somehow they knew that he couldn’t understand them.

That was basically impossible, but they would find out as soon as he opened his mouth. Best stay ready to dive for cover if things go awry, though it might be easier to simply raise his rifle and gun them all down. Thankfully, it didn’t seem like that would be necessary. A head popped up from behind the grumpy coachmen then, a young man’s face, contrasting the wrinkled crankiness of the coachmen. Kid couldn’t have been more than eighteen at most, with baby smooth skin around green eyes and long dark hair that looked like it should have belonged on a rockstar. Glamrock to be precise. Kids these days; back in his day they made fun of fellas for rocking that kind of cut. Then again, this was potentially a different dimension, maybe that haircut was seen as manly round’ these parts?

Well, Joe wouldn’t be growing his hair out to fit in, not again.

“Agdaler, hasht ou eb dule?” The young man asked the coach with a slight shake of his head, to which the man grumbled in reply. Was Agdaler the grump’s name? The young man then stood, placing a hand to his chest and saying, “Ei un Prolo Pienturshuld, und ou?”

Und seemed to be their equivalent of ‘and’ while ‘ou’ seemed to be ‘you’. It felt like that was the correct assumption but he’d never know until he properly learned the language. It sounded like an introduction based on his tone, Ei seemed to be ‘I’. So I am Prolo Pienturshuld, right? Alright, so this fella’s name was Prolo. The tone in which he said his last name had sounded weighty, so Pientershuld must have been a big deal around here. Combine that with his personal escort and fine clothing… yeah, this dude was a big deal, or at least his family was.

“My name’s Joseph, and I’m guessing you can’t understand a word of what I’m sayin’.” He said honestly, putting a hand to his chest.

Strangely, Prolo seemed excited by his words, quickly exiting out the back of his wagon before approaching Joseph, a keen smile on his face. The guards made an attempt to reason with him, based on their tones, but Prolo waved a hand dismissively. They grumbled, but didn’t try to argue with their boss. Despite that, their eyes were all now firmly affixed to Joe, even the coachman seemed interested in him now… and he did not like the way ol’ Agdaler was eyeing him up. There was something greedy in those eyes of his, and the coachman did nothing to hide it.

Even some of the guards had a tinge of greed in their eyes, and that made Joe’s trigger finger itch. Did they think they could rob him? He’d like to see them try. Things haven’t escalated yet though, and their (presumably) leader had left the safety of his wagon to get up close to Joe. Things could still go smoothly… assuming they didn’t try and take his stuff. Now that the young man was up close, he could see that Prolo was of a lean build, not scrawny, just a type of speedy athletic.

Eying the thin sword tucked away in his belt, Joseph could surmise that Prolo had practiced a lot with that blade. He readied himself to break the boy’s wrist should he try and draw it.

“Ou on’t keap lou Faesh?” Prolo asked.

Faesh again eh? Just like Varig and Morla. Did they think that was his name? No, they understood that his name was Joseph, Faesh meant something else.

“Yeah, no idea what you just said pal.” Joe replied, “You should get a haircut.”

“Ish oust eb Touvowlder!” Prolo exclaimed excitedly, “Keap ugun!”

And the other word too, Touvolder.

“...So nice weather out today huh?” He asked after a brief pause.

Prolo then looked back to the coachman, a wide smile on his face, “Joseph all eb shari, ut eas…” He hesitated, looking back to Joseph with a creased brow, “Woul ou acro?” He then pointed to Joseph, then to the wagon, “Taw sa ou?”

It seemed that he was asking if Joseph wanted to come with him… he had no idea as to where the boy was intending to go, or what he had planned for him, but this was the best chance he had at learning the language so far. Best to just play along. If Prolo was taking him somewhere where he might be more easily restrained, then Joseph would just have to kill his way out of there.

Joseph nodded.