Adventures of John: Parallels

Chapter 1: The Blooded Blade

Our world exists in a plane of existence in which magic has been slowly dying for millennia, until now there is almost no magic left in it. But there are other planes of existence in our universe overlapping ours, in which every magical realm exists. But these are not the only places in the various planes. There are also the Places Between. In the empty space between the realms there exist small pockets of existence, like small islands in the middle of a vast ocean. These places do not belong to any specific pantheon, element, or faction, and are thus usually up for grabs. The Blooded Blade is was one of these places.

The Blooded Blade was a medieval-style tavern sitting on top a slab of rock floating alone in nothing. While inter-dimensional travelers could come as they pleased, just as they could everywhere else, most creatures, if they wanted to come, had to drop a gold coin in a pool of water, speaking the name of the tavern, for a portal to the tavern to open. The proprietor of the tavern was an old god. No one knows what he was the god of or what pantheon he belonged to, only that his religion had been dead for a very long time. But it is unlikely that he was the god of anything friendly, seeing what sort of clientele he had.

The Blooded Blade was frequented by the scum of the realms, creatures of dark and disgusting. Goblins, trolls, and ogres were common, though Deep Dwellers such as dark elves and deep dwarves could often be found there as well. It was the meeting place of thieves, murderers, bandits, bounty hunters, and mercenaries. On this day, a band of goblin brutes was celebrating a recent victory with tales of battle.

A single figure, wrapped in a blood-red cloak, hood overshadowing his face, walked into the tavern and took a table for himself in the far corner. A dark elf serving girl came over, only to find a mug full of some strange liquid already sitting in front of him. She left in confusion, wondering where it had come from. He didn't have it when he walked in, and she didn't see any of the other girls hand it to him. After a moment she shrugged it aside. After all, she had a job she needed to do, she couldn't waste time worrying about such things.

"You think that's so great?" one of the goblins asked the one sitting next to him. "I slaughtered seven elven warriors all by myself!"

"Elven warriors?" a particularly drunk, green-skinned troll laughed. "That's nothing. I fought a being more powerful and deadly than a thousand elven sorcerers!"

"Yah?" asked the goblin sarcastically. "And who was that, your mother's ugly face?"

"The Traveler," the troll replied. The entire tavern fell silent, the cloaked figure leaning in attentively. "That's right!" he exclaimed. "I fought John the Adventurer himself!"

"Ye best watch yer mouth, laddie," a deep dwarf with a flaming red beard and charcoal grey skin warned. "They say the Adventurer knows whenever someone speaks his name and can hear everything they say about him."

"You really expect us to believe you took on the Adventurer and survived?" the goblin sneered. "No one so much as sees him and survives."

"I not only fought him, but I sent him running for the hills!" he declared. "Not even the 'all powerful' John the Adventurer can stand up to me!" He nearly toppled then, the excessive amount of drink combined with his prideful strutting throwing him off balance. The only thing that kept him from hitting the ground was the iron grip of the cloaked figure, which had moved so fast he had seemed to simply materialize next to the troll.

"Best be more careful," the man cautioned with an oddly smooth voice. That was not the voice of any goblin or troll. He then pulled back his hood, revealing a strong, pale, and very human face with a pair of golden eyes. "I hear that this John fellow is awfully temperamental. You don't want to go around offending him, do you?"

The troll ripped his arm out of the man's grip, recoiling in terror. None of the creatures in the tavern had actually seen the Adventurer themselves, but they all knew the legends. The way this human talked, he way he moved, the way he smiled at their reaction to his appearance, there was only one person this could be.

"I am sorry!" the troll exclaimed, backing up until he tripped over a chair. "I take it all back! Please, just don't touch me!"

"Oh," the Adventurer said sadly. "I'm afraid it is far too late for that." John grabbed the troll's face and lifted him into the air. His eyes began to glow, and energy surged through him into the troll. The creature shrieked in pain as the flesh of his face began to boil and golden light poured out of his eyes, lighting up the entire tavern with blinding radiance. When the light faded John was gone, the charred skeleton of the troll lying on the ground of the tavern, with words burned into the floor. They read: "Don't mess with the best."

. . . . .

I washed my hands thoroughly, trying to get the smell of burnt troll out. It was a little gruesome, sure, but it was also kind of fun. I got to get rid of another mythical lowlife, the legend of the Adventurer continues to grow, and I got what I came for. The troll may have been lying about facing me in the past, but he did have something I wanted. A signet ring.

I was hot on the trail of a secret society working in the magical realms, one that was spreading its influence throughout the different realms. I didn't know what their plan was, but I doubted I was something good. They were spreading their tentacles into every world, manipulating gods and making deals with demons. I still had no idea who they really were, but I was getting close. According to my sources, this signet ring would work as a key to enter their headquarters, if I was able to find the place. Why that troll had it, I had no idea.

Just then a warning signal went off in my head. Looking around, I remembered, and realized the trouble I was in. I was in terrible danger. If I didn't go right now, I was dead.

. . . . .

"Happy birthday, Kara!" I shouted, presenting my present of a little stuffed dragon to Anna's one-year old daughter.

"You're late," Elsa hissed in my ear.

"I'm sorry," I whispered back. "I had things that I needed to do, and you know how difficult those time differences can be sometimes."

"Fine," she muttered, giving me a little kiss. "You are excused, this time. You better not miss Avan's birthday."

"Of course not," I laughed. "Of course I won't."

"What are you two talking about?" Olaf asked, getting uncomfortably close.

"Nothing," I answered, shaking him off. "Everything's great, Olaf."

"You really should be easier on him," Elsa sighed.

"I go easy on him!" I retorted. "I just don't like him getting into my personal space, that's all. I'm not sure if you noticed, but he can be pretty annoying at times."

"He's not that bad…" Elsa began. In response, I just gave her a look. "Alright," she sighed. "He can be difficult at times, but that doesn't make him any less loveable."

"Of course not," I chuckled. "Come on, let's go outside for a moment. I need some fresh air."

We walked outside, but something was wrong. The air, instead of being clean and cool, was filled with the smell of ash and soot. For a moment I simply stood there, staring out into the night. What's going on? I asked myself. There's no fires or-

Suddenly a rift opened up before us, and we were sucked in, forced down into its depths.