Ozzy closed his eyes and grinned like a goofball as the end came for him. A life worth living was all he ever wanted, and by the spirits did he get it. The stories he could tell his ancestors in the afterlife would surely earn him a place of honor at their eternal feast. Part of him hoped to see JJ at that table. She’d certainly earned it, but he knew her place was by her God’s side. Happy… would likely end up in Hell for all of his past crimes. That wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, though. Knowing that scoundrel he’d probably be running the place in two weeks flat. As for the fair Lady Cassandra, she never revealed where her faith lay. Wherever her soul was headed, Ozzy hoped she would be reunited with the parents and siblings that were taken from her. The man’s thoughts inevitably drifted to his own mother and father. It was shameful for the son to pass on first, though he had a feeling they’d forgive him when they inevitably joined him in the afterlife.

…

Actually, shouldn’t he already be there?

Come to think of it, was he actually dead? It certainly didn’t feel like it, and Ozzy should know. He had died before. Seven times, not counting this questionable instance. His companions always brought him back before his soul could pass on for good, but that was besides the point. The man knew what limbo felt like, and this wasn’t it. If anything, the aches from the injuries he sustained were proof that he was still alive. Then how come everything was black? Ah, it was probably because his eyes were shut, wasn’t it?

Lifting his eyelids, Ozzy saw something quite bizarre. And that was saying something, considering the ludicrous adventures the Chuckle-nut Quartet had under their belt. Best as he could tell, he was wrapped in a bubble of solid white light that soared through the sky at high speeds. The man tried to get his bearings, but couldn’t recognize any of the landscapes he zoomed past. Hardly surprising considering how vast the world was and how little of it he’d seen, let alone from this altitude. He tried to look around, but Mezzo’s damnable pink goo limited his movements. Twisting his neck as far as he could, he barely spotted what appeared to be three shooting stars far in the distance behind him. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that those were his friends, no doubt stuck in the same predicament.

What predicament was that, though? Why would Mezzo cast this grand spell if it wasn’t meant to obliterate them? Having tangled with the lich’s minions and seen his ruthless methods firsthand, Ozzy couldn’t help but feel this wasn’t like him. It soon became apparent that he would have plenty of time to ponder the strange situation, as it seemed clear that this unknown magic would take a while to run its course. He’d already been riding it for half a day before he gave up trying to make sense of any of this. On the upside the pink goo had dried up and flaked off by then, so he could at least move around in his flying bubble-cell. He wondered if it was possible to punch through it, but decided not to push his luck.

As the sun set, the burly druid made three rather distressing discoveries. The first was that his magic felt severely diminished. He could not summon beasts to his aid, nor could he take on their form. The most he could do was take on a few Feral Aspects that amplified certain physical traits at the expense of others. He wondered if his less flashy spiritual abilities were similarly neutered, but he had no way of confirming that until his feet touched the ground. He could, however, learn more about where he was. His tribe had learned since ancient times to navigate by reading the stars, and Ozzy’s mother had drilled that knowledge into his skull at a young age.

This was when the druid had made his second regrettable revelation. He did not know these stars. Not recognizing the land was one thing, but if even the heavens were different, then that put into question whether he was even in Einhan anymore. He had heard tales of those who hailed from or visited other worlds, places largely similar but also distinctly different from his own. He’d always discounted those as wild fantasies that folks made up to brighten up their dull lives, but perhaps there was some truth to them after all.

The final and most pressing piece of information that gave the druid pause seemed to support his theory. Before he even knew it, he found himself sharing the sky with several flying ships. His magical prison flew too fast for him to get a good look at their enormous bean-like forms, but they were without a doubt man-made vessels that sailed through the air as if it were an ocean. The reason why this was an issue was because he was hurtling straight towards one. An enormous contraption that hung heavily in the clouds despite it being the size of a small castle drifted in the way of the much smaller, much quicker airborne object. Before Ozzy could even fully appreciate its majesty - or lack thereof - his bubble ripped a hole right through the thing’s hull. It went in one side and exited the other, dragging out a deluge of flames, smoke, and splinters along with it. The man could do little but stare in awe as the floating contraption listed to one side and slowly accelerated towards the ground.

Ozzy felt terrible about this turn of events. Though he wasn’t directly responsible, he sincerely hoped nobody got hurt in that collision. He held out hope, because what little he saw of the vessel’s insides proved that it was full of iron, not people. However, Ozzy didn’t have room to worry about others too much. His own aerial transportation hadn’t emerged from the impact unscathed. The sphere of force was cracked as if it were glass, and those faults were spreading rapidly. The druid barely had a chance to wonder if it would actually burst open before it did so. The man’s panicked scream was immediately drowned out by the howl of air whizzing past his ears. He was also spinning uncontrollably, making him incapable of telling up from down. Not that it mattered. For whatever reason he was incapable of borrowing the mighty thunderbird’s wings, and he would surely perish if he fell from this height.

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

For now, take a few each, just in case.

Cassie words echoed in the back of Ozzy’s mind, reminding him of that one particular piece of plunder the group had secured before confronting Mezzo. He dug around in his belt pouch and was relieved to find that his Featherfall Tokens were still there. He gripped one between his fingers and snapped it in half with little difficulty. A fine, glittering dust erupted from the hollow container and surrounded the man. His breakneck fall decelerated to a gentle float within moments, allowing Ozzy to both catch his breath and get his bearings.

“I am definitely not in Einhar anymore…”

The city that sprawled out underneath him was unlike anything he had seen before, or even thought possible. Towering spires of metal, glass, and stone reached into the heavens, many of them tall enough to put Mezzo’s tower to shame. Enormous houses as big as mansions were densely packed in the spaces between these spires. Metal carriages that moved without anything pulling them darted across the streets, which were ridiculously well lit despite the fact that the sun had already set. Last but not least, the air above was still dotted by those flying ships and their strangely bulbous sails.

To call this scenery foreign would be an understatement. Indeed, ‘alien’ was the only word that Ozzy could think of to describe how out of place he felt. It wasn’t just the sights and sounds, but also the air. It was heavy with this peculiar stench that smelled like something burning. The source was likely those impossibly tall chimneys that billowed out a constant stream of black smoke, far off in the distance. Though the druid could not fathom what foul material or substance would produce a stench like this, he was made instantly aware that his lungs didn’t agree with it.

Ozzy was then forced to once more tangle with gravity when his Featherfall Token abruptly expired. This caught him completely by surprise. These things were supposed to last until his feet touched the ground or ten minutes, whichever came first. Yet barely a fraction of that time had passed before he once more started plummeting at full speed. Thankfully he had a few more in stock and was able to crack open another well before his face got rapidly acquainted with a piece of bizarre architecture. The man managed to guide his gradual descent towards a nearby rooftop. It was still a dizzying height, but it was close enough to solid ground for the moment. He reached out and grasped the ledge, pulling himself over before gravity decided to have its say again.

The druid breathed heavily, desperate to catch his breath yet unable to do so. The unfamiliar stench flooding his nose and throat made him cough and sputter nearly every time he inhaled. The man grew up on crisp mountain air, so the stink of civilization never agreed with him. This damnable smog was something else entirely, however. How did the people here live like this? Were their lungs made of tar and gravel or something? Or was the air simply less foul further down? No, that couldn’t have been the case since he was breathing just fine when he was a bit further up.

Rather than wait to get used to this, the man rifled through his pouches for something to cover his face with. He pulled out a fine silken handkerchief the color of beach sand, with the initials ‘J.J.’ embroidered in the corner. He silently apologized to the paladin for forgetting to return this, but also thanked her for it. He pressed the handkerchief against his mouth and nose and breathed through it. The fabric caught most of the pollutants in the air, allowing Ozzy to finally catch his breath. Now that he wasn’t choking half to death, the druid took stock of his situation and what he had learned about it so far.

To begin with, the druid was on another world. That much the druid was certain of. Why Mezzo would send him and his friends here instead of killing them was a mystery that would have to wait for later. The important thing was that Cassie, JJ, and Happy were definitely here. They had no way of communicating and were likely scattered across the four corners of this strange realm, but they were most assuredly alive. Ozzy couldn’t help but silently commend the boss-lady’s thoughtfulness. He, at the very least, would not have survived had she not insisted that they all grab a handful of those tokens each.

I’ll see you chuckle-nuts in the next one.

Cassie’s words once again echoed in the back of his head. Was this her trying to guide him, or was it just his imagination? Either way, Ozzy’s next course of action seemed clear. He needed to reunite with his friends. It was going to be a challenging task, but far from impossible. Afterwards they’d need to figure out a way home. Cassie likely had that covered. The sorceress was blessed with a keen mind able to perfectly recall everything she’d seen in the past two weeks or so. She was surely hard at work taking notes on Mezzo’s spell at this very moment and would have figured out how to reverse it by the time the gang got back together.

Unfortunately, getting back in time to stop the tiny lich from launching his undead invasion was out of the question. If anything, with the Quartet out of the picture, he’d surely accelerate his plans to make up for all the delays the adventurers had cost him. The upside was that world conquest didn’t happen overnight. The free people of Einhan would not falter in their defense of their ancestral homes and would hold out for months, years even. Getting back sooner was preferable than later, of course, but this was not a journey that Ozzy could rush into. This was not the world he knew, and if he was to survive in it, he had to adapt to it. Like his father used to say, anyone could climb a mountain, but only fools did so without watching their every step.

Speaking of which, how was Ozzy going to get down from here?