I did the most respectful thing I could in this situation and waited to have my manic episode until after the family had left me looking out overlooking stone city.

"Where the hell am I?!" I screamed rhetorically at the city below.

Before you is the city of Salinel, a voice replied that wasn't my own.

I spun and dropped to the ground. I was clenching my fists in front of myself in a defensive gesture. It probably looked ridiculous as I'd never been in a fight before, but it was worth a shot. Thankfully, nothing was there to greet me as I turned.

"Who's there? Where are you?" I questioned the empty forest.

There was a pregnant pause for a moment. As if something was waiting for me to ask the right question.

"What are you?" I corrected hesitantly.

These thoughts occur as a result of your Unique Feat: Information Broker.

"Oh wow, I can't believe that worked. Uh, Broker... voice? What's a feat?"

Feats are boons, resources, or special abilities that the average person does not possess.

"Special ability... like magic?"

Yes, some feats do allow the use of the arcane.

"So I can use magic?!" I asked, maybe too expectantly.

No. Spell usage is based on career skills.

"Oh. Well, what's my career?"

Your career is Textile Craftsman.

So, I'm a tailor?

Correct.

"Do you know how I got here?"

Information unavailable.

"What do you know then?"

Information unavailable.

"Excellent. Will someone in that city know?"

Information unavailable. "Information unavailable"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I am starting to catch your drift. Hang tight, Broke; I'll let you know if I need any more vague answers."

The information broker didn't respond, but I'm sure he got my meaning.

I headed out of the forest closer to the city and found a trail the family presumably took to make their exit.

Long grass ran alongside the road as the smell of sweet cinders overtook me. I noticed a yellow butterfly dancing gracefully above the greenery. I could appreciate the simplicity of this bug in these stressful times.

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I reached out my hand in an attempt to call the creature over. To my surprise, it headed in my direction with little hesitation. As it fluttered about a foot away from my beckoning hand, the grass split suddenly, and a fanged maw snapped quickly around the insect.

"What the fuck?!"

The serpent hit the ground in the middle of the path, slithering across as it licked at its lips. It was longer than my forearm and twice as thick, so I gave it a wide berth. Before it moved into the other end of the path into the long grass on the farther side, it stopped in its tracks. It turned in my direction and opened its mouth as I paused, unsure if I was its next target. It stretched its mouth, but fire spewed from its jaws instead of a yawn. The snake burned from start to end like the most disturbing sparkler I've ever seen in my life. At its last little puff of smoke, the yellow butterfly emerged, continuing its pace toward me as if undisturbed by its serpentine attacker.

I pulled my hand back and hopped cautiously over the perfectly arranged snake ashes.

"Broke? Uh, what did I just watch happen?"

A six-stone viper attempted to consume a radiant firefly.

"Okay, thanks… if that bug landed on me, would I have also been burnt to a crisp? "

Unquestionably.

"Great. Hey Broke, do you take requests?"

Potentially.

"If something is about to kill me, will you let me know?"

Potentially.

The city of Salinel was unlike any other I've been. High stone walls wrapped the city's exterior, layering itself towards the center. Uneven patchy roads supported carts, people, and animals, both feral and tamed. The city's scents ranged anywhere from freshly baked sweet rolls to putrid waste dumped onto the street, narrowly missing bystanders.

After exploring the city for a short while, I decided to check out my competition in this second chance I've acquired. I found a clothing shop on the outskirts of town and was intrigued to see what they offered. The clothing looked simple enough—cloth shirts and pants, rigid and haphazardly stitched together. I pulled lightly on a seam and watched as the stitches split, allowing light to pass through. I clicked my tongue in disappointment.

That was when I noticed a fine print that ran across the fabric. Only a couple of letters of a language I didn't know sat displayed across the shirt and pants I held in my hand. At first, I thought it was a logo or seal designed into the fabric. Not only was this shop too plain for such luxuries, but it moved as I rotated the material in my hands. I focused on it for only a second and watched the letters change. I couldn't read what it said, but somehow, I knew it was a question.

Being curious, I answered yes.

The shirt immediately eviscerated in my hands from phantom limbs. Every stitch pulled through cleanly and without tearing. The material itself was folded and then pressed into a clean pile. This invisible force left behind an armful of cloth with a neatly bundled ball of string on top.

"My clothes!" The clothier protested. "Why have you done this?"

"It was an accident," I replied, looking down to see what a foolish concept that was.

"You have to pay for that!"

"So the thing is..." I patted at the sides of the rags on my chest and waist.

"You have no money?"

"No, but I could work it off, maybe? I have a long history of tailoring… despite my appearance."

"You rip up my clothes, can't pay for it, and now you want a job?!"

"Maybe," I took a step towards the shop door catching the shop owner's distaste for my proposal.

"Help! Theif? Vandal? Help!" The clothier shouted out, unsure of how to label me.

I wasn't waiting for him to figure out what to call me. Instead, I headed into the street and watched as the clothier stumbled after me.

"Miscreant! Vagrant! You will pay for what you've destroyed."

"Relax! I said I'd fix it."

"Rapscallion! Ne'er do-well! Somebody help!"

"What are you, a thesaurus?"

He is not a thesaurus.

"Thank you, Broke. But you're not helping!"

Passerbys split around me as the shop owner yelled in my direction, all but one at least. Up ahead, a woman in a hide cuirass entered the cut created by the people actively dodging me. She looked towards the clothier, then towards me, and placed her hand on the hilt of her sword.

"Stop!" She demanded, pulling her sword just enough to reveal the blade from its sheath.

I stopped mid-stride turning between her and the clothier.

"Broke, what will they do to me if they catch me?"

Information unavailable.

I paused to think of a wording the Broker might prefer. "What is the most likely thing they would do to me if they catch me?"

Punishment for thievery and vandalism could be anything from bodily mutilation to slavery. That is unless you can pay a fine.

"Running it is then."