Chapter 2

Tavern.

Thorin and Vorn approached the hamlet with cautious steps. As they neared the wooden palisade, Vorn quickly nestled himself beneath Thorin’s work jacket, his small, scaled form hidden away.

The hamlet itself was curious, a mixture of ancient Celtic motifs and sturdy, angular forms of design. Intricate knotwork carved into wooden beams and stone foundations caught Thorin’s eye.

They made their way toward the central building—a large, inviting tavern set within the circular palisade. The door creaked open under Thorin’s careful push, and he stepped inside.

Inside, the tavern exuded warmth and character. Rough-hewn wooden tables and benches, illuminated by the soft glow of a central hearth, filled the common room. Tapestries bearing ancient symbols hung on the walls, and the low murmur of conversation mingled with the crackle of burning logs.

Thorin strode confidently to the bar, where a stout, bearded man dried a set of tankards behind the counter. The tavernkeeper looked up as Thorin approached, eyes narrowing in quiet appraisal before softening with a welcoming smile.

“Name’s Thorin Blackwood,” Thorin announced, his voice steady despite the events of his journey.

The tavernkeeper returned the greeting. “I’m Eamon,” he said in a deep, friendly tone.

“Welcome to our humble hall, Thorin. What brings you to our doors?

Looking for shelter, or perhaps some work?”

“Both, I suppose,” Thorin replied. “I’ve heard there are quests, even if small—hunting pests, odd errands—and I could use a bit of coin along the way.”

Eamon nodded thoughtfully. “Aye, we’ve got a few small jobs posted on our board—rat hunts within the hamlet and a few tasks out beyond the walls. Not much, but it’ll keep you fed, and your coin purse lined. Take a seat, and I’ll fill you in on the details.”

Thorin settled onto a stool at the bar, the aroma of spiced stew and fresh bread mingling with the lingering scent of woodsmoke. Vorn, still hidden beneath the jacket, listened as the conversation began—a quiet start to the next chapter of Thorin’s journey in this younger, intertwined world.

Inside the tavern’s warm glow, Eamon leaned forward behind the bar, his eyes twinkling as he outlined the available work.

“Listen here, Thorin,” Eamon said in a low, friendly tone. “We’ve got a few small jobs that might suit a man of your... emerging talents.”

He continued, “There’s a nest of oversized rodents burrowing in the cellar of the old granary on the hamlet’s edge. They’re known as the Iron Rats—not actual rats, mind you, but their kin with a mean streak. They’ve been causing quite the nuisance.”

Thorin nodded, listening intently. Next, Eamon added, “Out on the heath, there’s a wild boar roaming free. A beast of impressive size—a relic from a bygone age—trampling crops and frightening the local farmers. Then, there’s a band of aggressive weasels near the livestock pens. They’re quick and cunning, a mixture of Miocene instincts with modern ferocity. Lastly, strange critters have been spotted nesting in a nearby cave. They’ve been gnawing at the wooden beams of cottages and even the palisade itself.”

Thorin’s eyes narrowed in determination as he considered the tasks. “I’ll take them all,” he declared, voice steady despite the fatigue still lingering from his previous battles.

A quiet hum filled his mind as the system processed his decision. One by one, the titles of the accepted quests appeared in a concise system message:

Quest Accepted: The Burrow of the Iron Rat

Quest Accepted: Wild Boar on the Heath

Quest Accepted: The Weasel’s Whisker

Quest Accepted: Cave Critters

Eamon smiled knowingly. “You’re a busy man, aren’t you? I’ll mark your names down. It won’t be easy, but you’ll find that these tasks will pay off—both in coin and in experience.”

Thorin gave a curt nod, already feeling the thrill of the hunt pulsing in his veins. “I’ll start with the Iron Rats. After that, I’ll take care of the boar, then the weasels, and finally those cave critters.”

As Thorin finished his drink and leaned against the bar after Eamon finished listing the quest options. As the noise in the tavern dimmed into a comfortable murmur, he asked, "Eamon, did you grow up around these parts?"

Eamon paused, wiping a glass with a well-worn cloth. A subtle smile played at the corners of his mouth. "Ah, not exactly. I hail from Dublin, you see. I grew up amidst the clamor and charm of that old port city."

Thorin raised an eyebrow. "Dublin? But these lands… they’re not Dublin."

Eamon chuckled softly. "Indeed, they’re not. I've wandered far since my youth. My memories are filled with the bustling streets and lively alleys of Dublin. It's strange—when I look around here, I sometimes feel like a stranger in a familiar dream."

Thorin’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "I find it curious, then. I’ve traveled from afar, pulled from a time and place quite different from here. I suppose neither of us truly belongs to this land."

Eamon nodded, his gaze drifting momentarily to the low, stone-ceilinged corner of the tavern. "Aye, we’re both wanderers, caught between the echoes of our origins and the hapenstance of this realm. It seems fate, or perhaps the caprice of time, has crossed our paths here."

Either way, I promise you this—if you’re willing to take on the quests that lie ahead, you’ll find that here, even strangers can make a home."

Thorin stepped out of the tavern into the cool evening air and made his way down a narrow lane to the quiet courtyard behind the inn. At its center, a moss-covered well offered a secluded spot where he could finish his work in peace.

He spread the animal corpses on a rough-hewn crate and knelt beside them, methodically prying meat and valuable parts from the carcasses. Vorn, ever watchful, remained hidden beneath the edge of Thorin’s work jacket, his eyes glinting with silent amusement.

After extracting the last useful scrap, Thorin broke the silence. "Remind me how that dimensional storage works," he said. "When I toss these parts in there, do they vanish entirely? And what happens if the spell user dies?"

Vorn’s gaze grew thoughtful as he replied,

"The storage spell tethers items to another realm—a safe repository beyond the confines of reality. Once stored, the items remain intact within that dimensional bubble, preserved in an unchanging state. If the caster falls, the bubble remains untethered, keeping its contents unchanging."

Thorin listened intently, nodding as he carefully placed the salvaged meat and parts into the shimmering portal of the dimensional storage. Once they had vanished from view, he gathered the remaining scraps and made his way back into the inn.

Inside the common room, in a quiet corner of the bustling tavern, Thorin struck a deal with the innkeeper. After a brief exchange of coins and careful negotiation, he sold his harvest—meat and parts that, though modest, promised enough coin to keep him moving forward on his journey.

As the coins clinked softly into his pouch, Thorin allowed himself a brief smile.

Every small victory, every bit of progress, was a step forward.

After a long day, Thorin secured room and board at the tavern. Determined to build on his hard-won strength, he made his way to a small, sparsely furnished room and set doing some basic exercises to see what gains he could get before rest could claim him for the night.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

In the fading light of the evening, Thorin began a grueling routine—pushups, sit-ups, and jumping jacks. With every rep, his muscles burned, and his resolve hardened. As he pushed through the fatigue, a quiet chime echoed in his mind—a brief, system-like notification:

Strength increased +1

Stamina increased +1

Though the training was exhausting, he managed only a few hours before sleep overtook him, and he drifted into a short, fragmented rest.

The following morning, after a hearty breakfast at the inn, Thorin laced up his worn boots and stepped out into the crisp dawn. The fresh air stirred his spirit as he embarked on a series of wind sprints along the quiet lanes of the hamlet. His legs propelled him faster than before, each sprint a reminder of the improvements he was earning through hard work. After he pushed himself further, another soft chime resonated within his mind:

Agility increased +1

Stamina increased +1

These notifications confirmed that his regular exercises were not in vain. Thorin stepped to the edge of the Hamlet with determined strides, the chill of the early morning mingling with the lingering warmth of his recent training. With the quest board’s notifications still echoing in his mind—Quest Accepted: The Burrow of the Iron Rat—he set off toward the granary on the hamlet’s edge.

The Iron Rat Quest

The old granary loomed in the distance, its stone walls partially crumbled and overgrown with ivy. Rumors whispered that beneath its decaying facade lay a nest of oversized, feral rodents—the Iron Rats—that had infested its dark cellars. As Thorin approached, the distant chatter of Vorn, ever-present though silent, reminded him that every step forward was a step into the unknown.

Inside the granary's cellar, shadows danced among cobwebs and crumbling bricks. Thorin could hear the scurry of tiny feet echoing off the walls. He moved cautiously; his tire iron gripped tightly in one hand while his other hand kept a firm hold on the hilt of his newly reforged spear. The atmosphere was tense, punctuated by the occasional squeak and rustle of movement.

Suddenly, from behind a collapsed wall, a group of Iron Rats burst forth. Their eyes glowed with feral intensity as they advanced in a frenzied huddle. Thorin acted quickly. He hurled a rock—his improving throwing technique finding its mark. The stone collided with one of the creatures, stunning it momentarily, and he seized the opportunity to engage in close combat. A few well-timed swings of his tire iron and thrusts with the spear left the cellar echoing with the chaos of battle.

After a relentless skirmish, the Iron Rats lay defeated. Thorin collected the remnants of their pelts and bones, carefully looting every part that might prove valuable. Vorn activated his dimensional storage spell with a subtle gesture—and watched as the salvaged materials vanished into the shimmering portal, secured for later disassembly and trade.

A soft system notification Ding chimed in his mind:

with the words in his vison

📜 Quest Complete: "Iron Rat Infestation"

🔹 XP Gained: +100 XP

🔹Iron Rats Defeated 7 +350 XP

🔹Agility: +0.10

🔹Throwing Skill +0.05

🔹 Level Up! You are now Level 5!

🔹 New XP Progress: 250/450 XP toward Level 6

💰 Coins Received: 4 Tin Coins

Thorin allowed himself a brief moment of satisfaction before retracing his steps back.

The Weasel Quest

Thorin reviewed his next task. The next quest on his slate was

Quest Accepted: The Weasel’s Whisker. According to the description, a band of unusually aggressive, cunning weasels had been seen prowling near the livestock pens. Their rapid movements and sharp instincts were said to be a relic of a primeval age, blending traits of late Miocene predators with modern ferocity.

With a renewed sense of purpose Thorin set out once more. He approached the livestock pens on the otherside of the hamlet, where the air carried a faint, musky scent and the low bleats of cattle mingled with the rustling of the undergrowth.

Before long, he spotted them: several weasels, sleek and lithe, darting in and out of the shadows, their eyes glinting in the morning light. Thorin took a deep breath and activated his throwing skill once more, sending a carefully aimed rock toward a particularly bold creature. The rock struck true, and chaos erupted as the startled weasels scattered. Seizing the moment, Thorin engaged in swift, precise melee combat when necessary—relying on his agility and newly acquired mobility to dodge their quick strikes.

Between dodges and counterattacks, Vorn’s silent presence was a constant reassurance. The battle was short but intense. With persistence and well-timed maneuvers, Thorin managed to subdue the aggressive band. He then gathered a few stray items left behind—a small token here, a bit of pelage there—to be stored for later or sold for coin.

Another system message resounded in his mind:

📜 Quest Complete: "Weasel Woes"

🔹 Agility +0.05

🔹Throwing Skill +0.05

🔹 XP Gained: +100 XP

🔹 Weasels defeated: 3 +150 XP

🔹 Level Up! You are now Level 6!

🔹 New XP Progress: 50/500 XP toward Level 7

💰 Coins Received: 2 Tin Coins

With both quests now completed, Thorin felt the steady rhythm of progress. The challenges of the granary cellar and the livestock pens had further honed his skills, confirmed by the system notifications and the weight of coin in his pouch.

As Thorin wiped the sweat from his brow, he took a deep breath and turned toward Vorn, who remained nestled beneath his jacket, his golden eyes gleaming with silent amusement. The aftermath of the weasel skirmish left Thorin feeling a mix of satisfaction and exhaustion, but there was still work to be done.

Thorin leaned against a wooden fence, glancing up at the sky as the first hints of midday light filtered through the trees. "That makes two quests down," he murmured. "Iron Rats dealt with, weasels cleared out. That leaves the boar on the heath and whatever’s lurking in that cave."

Vorn shifted slightly, his voice threading into Thorin’s mind like a whisper on the wind. "You’ve gained experience, your skills are improving, and you’ve secured enough coin for another night at the tavern. But the next tasks won’t be as simple. The boar is larger, stronger—an ancient remnant. It won’t fall to simple strikes like the weasels did."

Thorin nodded, rolling his shoulders. "Yeah, I figured as much. It’s not like I can just throw a rock at it and expect it to drop. I’ll need a plan… maybe a trap, or at least a way to keep it from running me down."

"And the cave?" Vorn prompted.

Thorin exhaled slowly. "That one’s an unknown. Eamon said something’s gnawing on beams and the palisade itself. Could be anything. And if it's nesting inside, it probably has numbers." His expression hardened. "I’ll deal with the boar first. It’s a more immediate threat, and I don’t like the idea of a beast running wild while I’m distracted by a cave full of who-knows-what."

Vorn hummed thoughtfully. " Be cautious, your stamina is improving, yet you’re still mortal

As Thorin and Vorn made their way toward the heath, the air grew thick with the scent of trampled grass and damp earth.

The terrain was vast and open, rolling gently under the weight of a dull breeze. Patches of brush and small clusters of rocks dotted the landscape, a lone, sturdy tree standing defiantly in the middle of the field—tall enough to offer safety from a charging boar, its thick limbs promising stable footing.

Thorin surveyed the area as he walked, already considering the best angles for an ambush. "If I could get up there, I might be able to stab down at it. It’d be out of reach, but I’d still need to deal enough damage fast enough before it tears the tree apart or leaves."

Vorn, nestled against his chest, hummed in thought. "A viable plan. You are beginning to think in terms of tatics. Still, it may require adjustments. If the beast is intelligent enough to recognize the threat, it may attempt to uproot or circle the tree."

As they walked, Thorin’s thoughts drifted to something more ambitious. "Say, Vorn, is it possible to mine into abandoned dimensional spaces?

Like, breaking into old ones to pull out gear, materials, maybe even some lost treasure?"

Vorn went still, his golden eyes narrowing slightly in thought. "A curious notion. I do not know. The logistics of combining dimensional spaces or breaching their boundaries are… uncertain. Most pocket realms exist in isolation, severed from others unless tied by an anchoring force. If one were to enter such a space and attempt to open a secondary exit…"

He trailed off, his mind racing.

Thorin grinned. "Would be one hell of a way to fill a hoard."

Vorn’s silence lingered for longer than usual,

Thorin swore he felt a ripple of something unusual, an excitement coursing through the air.

"It is an idea worthy of deeper consideration." There was a weight to his words, a reevaluation of Thorin himself. "Perhaps you are not as short-sighted as I initially believed."

Thorin Blackwood

Race: Human

Level: 6 (450 XP to next level)

Constitution: 7 (350 Health)

Mana: Unknown

Strength: 4.25

Dexterity: 2.50

Agility: 2.75

Stamina: 2.50

Intelligence: 3.50

Skills & Abilities

Mobility Speed: Acquired

Armor Piercing: Acquired

Evade Skill: 0.25

Throwing Skill: 0.55

Equipment

Weapons:

Goblin spear.

One basic spear

Sack of gathered rocks

Armor: Basic