The gunman’s remains lay before me, and, now that I stood over him decked out in his finest, I’ll admit, my guilt kicked into overdrive.

The body was also a problem. Speculatively, if someone found a corpse with all his clothes removed, well they may start to ask questions, particularly the kind that said something like, why are you wearing the clothing of that dead man? I had no idea if that would be a problem... I mean, I’m just saying that. Clearly, it would be a problem. I needed to remove the risk, and that meant I needed to do something with the body.

‘Rest in peace, my good fellow. May God have mercy on your soul.’ I nudged him over the edge – gently, of course… this was his funeral after all.

You have gained 5 experience for administering the last rites.

Uh, what? That got me five experience points, but completing a quest granted me the measly tally of three experience? What was the quest this time? Impersonate a priest, even though I am so clearly not an actual priest. How did that make any sense?

‘You’re having a laugh with that one,’ I told the sky.

I’ll summarise the short ascent out of the canyon in two words: devastatingly hard. The rugged cliffside took more effort than I care to admit. The size of the ledge meant no real danger existed, as I couldn’t fall without landing back on it. But my hands weren’t calloused, and the sharp rocks cut straight through my soft skin. On top of that, my one strength attribute clearly played a role in deciding how much of my weight I could support – barely any, if you’re wondering.

I’ll take my own advice and, you know, move on.

The canyon had limited the somewhat, but it returned with full force as I resumed my trek. My new layers did offer so much more protection as I plodded towards the town, but dehydration loomed as the next problem.

As I walked, I decided to bring up my character information, hoping to familiarise myself with it while I travelled.

CHARACTER INFORMATION: JACOB BOSMA

Class: Unknown

Level: 1

Experience: 10/100

Health: 9/10

Essence: Unknown

Statistics:

· Strength – 1

· Dexterity – 1

· Constitution – 2 (+1)

· Wisdom – 2

· Charisma – 0

Titles:

Traits:

· Outcast (-1 to charisma while trait is active)

Skills:

Bonuses:

· Sunbather – You have ritualistically tanned your skin in the midday sun. +1 to constitution when fighting in direct sunlight.

Not much to see really, and the information seemed kind of… cruel. Cruel in the sense that it gave me nothing to work with. Every statistic appeared low, I had no class, and a penalty for a trait I knew nothing about. How was that justified? No, I needed to get some experience and gain some levels. That felt like the right thing to do to keep moving forward.

A further opportunity to prove my worth presented itself on the journey. A scrawny-looking rabbit reared its head from amongst a tuft of grass about 30 paces in front of me. The opportunity was too good to resist. Experience seemed hard to come by, and it was a rabbit, which I could eat if I could sort out a fire.

Pulling the revolver from my duster, I gripped it firmly in my right hand. With my left, I pulled back the knobby bit – the hammer, I vaguely recalled – until it clicked into place. I wasn’t sure how the gun worked exactly, primarily relying on a theory of pray, point, aim, pull the trigger. In that sequence, as praying might be my strongest suit.

I followed my own guide, sighting down the line of the gun at the hapless rabbit. It chewed on the grass, oblivious as I stared it down. The distance was substantial, but I kept my arm steady, breathed out slowly and gently pulled the trigger.

The gun recoiled aggressively as dust flicked up from the ground five paces to the left of the rabbit. The rabbit took off to find safety at a rate of knots, as birds leapt from nearby trees with each echo of the gunshot within the nearby canyon walls.

‘Yeah. I suck.’ It felt appropriate to reaffirm my skill level. I was going to need to find a teacher for the weapon. My quest log decided to confirm this.

New Quest – Gain some skill at firearms.

Onwards!

After a time, I parted ways with the canyon edge to take a more direct route to the town. It lay several kilometres off, and while the ground was relatively easy to navigate, the undulations of hills, patches of dark sand, and thicker areas of forest forced me to expend energy running in limited supply. My lips became parched, and my breathing laboured, but what other choice did I have?

I pushed on, until eventually, my foot came down on the roughly circular bulge of a cobbled street, which resembled a narrow path of uneven stones down the centre of the town.

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

My first steps onto the ‘road’ brought the white text back.

Quest Completion:

· Travel to the nearest town.

You have been awarded 3 experience for completing a simpleton’s quest. Well done simpleton.

Rolling my eyes, I paused for a moment to take in the town – Oro City, by the look of a worn sign swinging back and forth on the breeze. I appeared to have wandered past some guard and watchtower areas on the perimeter, ignorant of them in my state of intense focus. They must have seen me however, and with several people on the streets making eyes at me before shuffling off, it led to the conclusion that strangers weren’t uncommon in this part – or they genuinely didn’t care. It could also mean that my awesome clothes made me look like a regular member of Oro City.

In a way, the sight of the town comforted me. Puzzling out some of the buildings, I could see three hotels of various capacities. One appeared run down, its former grandeur worn by the passage of time, and I was either getting extra cheap rates or I’d be staying for free. The others looked sufficient and had several townsfolk coming and going from within.

The ring of a blacksmith drifted past several buildings that appeared to be offices for milling and mining companies – Anderson & Sons, Frederick’s Mill – and there was a newspaper office with numerous sheaths of paper hammered to a board out front. A bank, a general store… check, all the buildings I’d want to see, and maybe a jail too? It might have been the Sheriff’s office, but I could investigate that later.

There were two features of the town that struck me as interesting. Firstly, all the buildings looked strong. They weren’t made from simple materials but featured hefty beams on arched rooves, thick sidings that could have been made at half the width, or large solid doors that would likely be slammed in my face very shortly. Every building had dozens of lanterns hanging, or housings on the walls for torches – and there was firewood everywhere. Literally everywhere. It seemed an odd choice for a wooden town to have so much combustible material stored nearby, but yeah. Maybe bonfire celebrations were planned for the entirety of the week.

In the heart of the town, rising above the cobblestone street and other wooden buildings, stood a grand clock tower. Next door to that, and another feature which drew my attention quickly, were two saloons standing side by side. The Dour Mistress, one side read, and The Bloody Bucket. Their swinging doors beckoned me in, appealing to the fact I’d not managed to find water yet on my travels. With a quick thought, I opted for the quieter of the two, wanting answers after all. The music and revelry coming from The Bloody Bucket wouldn’t be conducive for conversation, but it looked like a fantastic place to visit after.

Thankful that I at least looked the part now, albeit in a dead man’s clothes, I sauntered across the street and up onto the porch, pushing my way through the heavy doors to be greeted by yet another fantastic sight.

‘Betty, four drinks here when you’re ready!’

Betty… That was a nice name for the salt-of-the-earth woman appearing before me. With an upturned nose and brown hair falling past the shoulders, Betty had wide hips that sashayed back and forth as she walked between the bar and tables to collect drinks. But as she turned back to face me, well, I wouldn’t just be calling her Betty now…

You have given Betty the title: Busty Betty. +1 bonus to charisma for as long as this title remains.

Betty, or Busty Betty, whipped her head up to me with a glare. ‘Was that your doing?’

‘Ah…’ I flushed profusely. How do you recover from your ogling demonstrated in text?

Betty flounced her way up to me, and I swear she stomped with extra force just to further accentuate the bounce and jiggle of her assets. ‘You don’t even know me, and you want to be giving me a title? Is that it? Well, Mister. You look like deaths been keeping you company and spat you back out. No, respectable lass like me, is going to let someone like you have their way, am I? Look at you. Can’t even form the words to speak when a woman stares you down.’

Spinning on her heel, Betty and her assets huffed away.

Betty has rejected the title: Busty Betty.

Was that the impact of me having the same charisma as a cactus? I needed more charm – any charm, really. Then again, surely I could at least act the part? Be natural. Act normal. Just casually converse and get some answers.

The barman watched my encounter with Betty with disinterest, polishing a large glass back and forth on a rag browned with age. Interestingly, no information displayed over his head, and judging by the air of danger hanging over him like a dark cloud, I could take a wild guess his level was significantly higher than mine.

‘What are you wanting?’ He yawned onto the cup, using the heat from his breath to add new levels of shine.

‘G’day. How’re you going…?’ Oh. What?

The barman gave me a look like I’d spoken a foreign language, which I may have, then shook his head with a sigh. ‘Damned outcasts. So many foreigners about these days, and none of you want to speak English like the rest of us.’ The shine on the cup became much more aggressive.

I gaped at the barman. Again, I’d put my foot squarely into, well, it. Something, I don’t know what. But that was the story of my day from the moment my eyes opened to gaze upon blue skies. However, the words shocked something loose within my mind, causing my mouth to hang open as a sure sign of my intellect. What halted me in my tracks was the simple idea that I knew I wasn’t an outcast. Deep inside, I knew that I was Australian.

‘I’m sorry. I was hoping to have some questions answered…’

The barman didn’t bat an eye. ‘You look all sorts of familiar. Seen you around these parts much?’ His eyes ran me from tip to waist, focusing on the coat more than anything.

Uhhh. ‘We’ve never met,’ I told him hastily.

‘Haven’t we? Guess we haven’t. I’ll make it simple to avoid you some confusion. If I man buys a beer, I’m always that little bit friendlier, even for an outcast. But if you aren’t going to be doing that, the door’s not far.’

Reaching into my duster, I felt around until I could withdraw one of the coins, then flicked it up onto the bar. The barman gazed thoughtfully at the silver, then with a lazy grin, put down his polishing equipment and dragged the coin under the counter. He pulled up five coppers to dump on the table in exchange and poured me off a large glass of beer.

I didn’t know the exchange, but his body language told me I might have given away my silver a little too easily. He saw my expression. ‘Don’t frown like that. I’ll put a meal of stew on the table for you as well. The Dour Mistress doesn’t extort nobody. Never has, never will.’

‘Thanks, my name’s Jacob.’ I took a mouthful of beer not really knowing what to expect. It wasn’t bad, and the absence of any recent drink would make mud slide smoothly into my gullet.

‘Kurt.’

‘I’m looking for some answers.’

Kurt shrugged. ‘You said that already. Lot of people are. Always surprised me most about a saloon, you know? But let me say this clear and blunt and all. Some answers come easy. Some answers come with a price. Some questions see you buried.’

I gulped another mouthful of beer but pushed on. ‘I was hoping for information… that’s all. I wanted to know about the levelling system, and maybe a bit about the town.’

Returning to his polishing, Kurt seemed disinterested. ‘Not much to know about the leveling system. Gain experience by doing a quest, or defeating something in a fight, and you might gain a level. Spend your points on an attribute, then repeat. Not my thing. Running a saloon and all, mostly gives me quests related to my class.’

That perked my ears up. ‘You have a class?’

He looked at me like I was a moron. ‘Yes.’

‘Can you tell me about it?’

‘No.’

I nodded. ‘Would anyone have better knowledge of levelling and classes?’

‘Likely the priest, Father Clarence. You can find him in the church, funnily enough. Don’t know whether he’ll take to you.’ That seemed suspiciously like a declaration that he was not taking to me. Come on, I was nothing but charming, right? For a cactus at least?

‘There someone named Mary Percival in Oro City?’

Kurt loomed forward, his hand disappearing beneath the counter whereby I could imagine it holding a weapon cocked. ‘Now, what would you be wanting to know that for?’

I held two hands up. ‘Returning a locket. Nothing more. It has her name on it. I’ve never met her before.’

The furrow in Kurt’s brow remained, but he did give me directions to her house. ‘That all you want? No, don’t answer. No more questions for now. Go ask someone else. But you come back here an hour before dark and I’ll have that meal for you.’

I nodded, thankful I wouldn’t have to remind him.

‘Before you leave, here’s a free word of advice. There’re enough in this town who’ll put a bullet or a knife in an outcast’s front, let alone his back. Mind what you prod.’

Again, that didn’t sound like advice so much, as a threat. Maybe he didn’t need to have any guards in his establishment because he scared everyone off? Anyway, there wasn’t much I could do about imminent dangers, so I finished my beer and made my way out of the saloon.