Narrator: Hi, I'm the narrator.

Me: Hi. I'm your author, The Inquisitor.

Narrator: This is chapter 3.

Me: Yep. Finally, a 3-chapter story.

Narrator: Can you believe this guy thinks he has a fan-base?

Me: Silence, cur, or face the headsman's axe.

Narrator: *Sigh* Yes, your majesty.

Intro: The Legal: All characters, save for those created by someone else, are copyright 2002-2003 by me. And yes, that includes real people. *holds up a contract* I own you. The Lame Excuse: I'm starting this pretty early, November 5th to be exact, but in case it's late, let's just say that my roommate ate my hard-drive. Yeah, that's it.

Intro 2: Err… December 11th. Right. Sorry, but I…err…umm…Ooh look, a pickle! *runs away*

Intro 3: Finally, January 22; aren't you happy this day has finally come? No? You're mad that I'm so late? Well, this time let's blame online games. Blame be upon ye, Allerian Empire. *shakes fist in blame* Oh yeah, sorry about the lack of character updates; I'll do that in a couple of days. Honest.

Well, here we go…

Chapter 3: Treasure, Bosses, and the Beginning of a Quest

Lights flashing, a neon manifestation of all that is precious and true. The cool darkness surrounds its inhabitants, a shield from the harsh outer world, the false light known as the sun. The sounds, a thousand captive voices crying out from their silicon prisons for interaction with the denizens of this, a microcosm of human experience known as… The Red Rose Arcade.

The Inquisitor walked into the Red Rose, a familiar oasis in the desolate desert known as reality. Fellow gamers and authors were numerous, the selection of games was quite impressive, and the bar's drinks were always served just right. He noticed a few friends of his, and walked over. "Well, if it isn't Chopper, Skiver, and Tempest. It's been a while, eh?" he said, shaking hands all round.

"Yeah, man. Hey, why haven't you reviewed Senkadan lately? " Tempest asked. "I've had the new chapter up for months now."

"Err… I've been busy. My aloe-vera plant has been eating the spoons again." He replied.

"Like we haven't heard that one before. You need new stories, man." Tempest replied.

"So, how about I buy us a round?" The Inquisitor asked, changing the subject and signaling the bartender.

"Yo, Galcia! Cherry Bomb on the rocks, if you don't mind." He said.

Galcia nodded. "Anything for you guys?" he asked the others.

"Ocean Requiem in C-Minor, please." Chopper replied.

"Sweet Dream with a bitter memory." Skiver responded.

"Mur Loqua for me." Tempest answered.

Galcia jotted the orders down, and headed to the back. A minute or so later he returned, carrying a Cherry Coke/Orange soda mix with ice, a glass of Sprite with less carbonation, sweet tea with a lemon, and some apple juice. The Inquisitor paid, and they continued their conversation.

"So Quiz, I hear you won that DC disk they had at the ticket exchange." Chopper commented, sipping on the Ocean Requiem.

"The Dreamcast is a dead system, you know." Skiver said.

The Inquisitor's eye twitched. "I know, but I refuse to accept the fact that Barney the Dinosaur lasted longer. It irks the heck out of me." He said, casually entertaining thoughts of blowing up stuffed animals.

"Let's have a moment of silence for the gaming world's sanity." Tempest said, and they were silent for a moment.

"Okaaaay… so, what game did you get?" Chopper asked.

"It's an RPG called Last Daydream. Anyone heard of it?" The Inquisitor asked. There were puzzled glances all round, but the general response was negative.
"Can't say that I have, Quiz. And the fact that the Dreamcast didn't have that many RPGs makes this even more of a puzzle." Skiver said.

The Inquisitor frowned, and glanced at his watch: 6 p.m. "Cripes, not again!" he exclaimed.

"Another temporal shift?" Tempest asked, looking at his watch. "You know, you really should see a doctor about that. It's getting kind of irritating." He said.

"Sorry about that, guys. I'd better get going before it ends up midnight." The Inquisitor said, finishing off his Cherry Bomb and leaving the glass on the bar. He said good-bye, and left the arcade.

The sun was setting, but still visible, and The Inquisitor growled lowly. He once again had to pass near the group of children playing in sprinklers. He frowned, knowing almost beyond a shadow of a doubt that one of them would try to squirt him with the hose. True, this would grant him a good reason to chase them down screaming in bloodlust, but still… Suddenly, he derailed this train of thought. The children were slowing down, and the sprinklers had ceased to work. The stunted vermin were shaking uncontrollably, turning blue, and attempting to run home crying on legs that weren't functioning properly. He smiled: winter had come at last. The glacial desolation was a welcome change to his chilled essence, and he greeted it with a bow, but he had a prior engagement with his Dreamcast. Basking in the frigid gloom would have to wait.

Carefully, he once again deftly glided past the living-room, where his evil step-parents were attempting to adjust the heater, and made his way back to his lair, pausing to admire the sign above its door: "Abandon hope, all ye who enter here." He entered, shedding his evil visage, and took his accustomed place at the game-chair. He turned on the Dreamcast, grabbed his controller, poured himself a Cherry Bomb, and watched as the title screen came up:

Last Daydream

(c) 2002, Circlesoft

New Game

Continue

He chose continue, and the world melted away into nothingness, a void from which the game world emerged…

Avant stood at his bedside, ready for action. As a matter of fact, he'd been doing that for about 3 days straight. Darn those real-world/game-world time conversions.

He looked out of his window, watching the flames spread.

"Crap, the village is on fire! This is definitely a bad thing; I should see if anyone needs he—ooh, a treasure chest." He said, suddenly noticing a large wooden chest near the foot of his bed. "Hmm, I wonder why I never noticed it before. This is my room, after all." He said as he stooped down to open the chest.

As he was about to open it, however, he noticed a note: "To be delivered to the room of Avant Garde on the first day of Gyration. Not to be opened until then."

"Gyration? What the heck is that? And why is the mail running if the village is on fire? Come to think of it, do we even have a mailing address? And jeez, look at the size of this thing! How much would it cost to—"

AHEM. PLEASE MOVE ALONG. Said the game program—err, a wandering spirit.

"Err… right." He said, and opened the chest. Within it, he found a vial with a blue liquid.

"You found 1 Potion!" said a booming voice.

Avant looked around, but saw no one but the game program—err, wandering spirit, who was already leaving. "Hey, was that you?" he asked the spirit.

WHAT DO YOU MEAN? It responded.

"Someone just…never mind, they didn't have your accent anyway."

WHAT ACCENT?

"Well, you…you know, speak in all-caps."

I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT. The spirit replied, and promptly left.

"Well, that was certainly random." Avant commented. "Now, where was I? Oh, yeah; burning village." he said, and left his house. He saw a friend of his, and ran up to him.

"What's going on here?" he asked.

"Help! The church is on fire!" the man responded.

Avant turned towards the church "Holy smokes, you're right!" he said, then turned back to the villager. "Who caused this?" he asked.

"Help! The church is on fire!" the man responded.

"Umm…"

"Help! The church is on fire!"

Avant scratched his head, and started to ask another question, but changed his mind. "Right, I'll just see if anyone needs help then." He said, and headed towards the church.

"Help! The church is on fire!" the man responded.

'Man, what was with that?' Avant thought as he stepped into the courtyard. His thoughts were cut short, however, as he regarded the scene before him…

His vision grew clear, focused, more lucid than it had ever been as he surveyed the church. The fire had consumed nearly the entire building now, and a window shattered from the heat. The waves of heat rolling off of the flames gave the scene an almost dreamy perspective, but the flames themselves transformed that dream into a nightmare. This was merely the background, however, for Avant's focus shifted to the three figures at the center of the plaza. The first was a silent, dark-cloaked individual, obviously a mage by his lack of weapons, with gleaming silver hair that concealed his eyes. The second was a woman who looked to be somewhere in her twenties, with auburn hair, green eyes, and well-polished silver armor. In her left hand, she was holding a double-bladed axe, and in her right hand she was holding—by the throat—the third person in the square, a young woman who might have been Avant's age (late teens). She was wearing what looked like white priest's robes, had golden hair, and was trying to pry the knight's hands from her throat, which was slowly icing over. Her face was twisted in agony.

"I'll tell you this one more time: join us, or die." The knight said, scowling in anger.

"It's a shame, really, that so many have to become…shall we say acceptable losses?" The mage commented casually, gesturing towards the church. He then turned towards Avant, who had stepped into the courtyard. One could only presume his hidden eyes were surveying the rusted state of Avant's recently drawn sword, as the edge of his mouth hinted at a grin. "Well, well, well. It seems we have another pathetic hero in our midst."

The knight turned towards Avant, and threw the girl into a nearby wall, where she collapsed, unconscious. "This is no concern of yours." She said, readying her axe.

"I believe it is. You just burned the village church, and beat a beautiful young maiden senseless." Avant replied, readying the Rusted Side-Arm.

The mage smirked slightly. "I'll let you handle this, Isis. Oh, and try not to botch the job. Lord Malign would not be pleased." He said, turning to leave.

"I owe no allegiance to this 'lord' of yours. My loyalty is to the crown." She said to the figure.

The mage smirked once more, and vanished in a wisp of smoke.

Avant's vision returned to normal, Isis returned her gaze to him, and all of a sudden they heard fast-paced music from behind them. They turned towards the source, and saw a rather unusual jazz band consisting of orchestral instruments. The obligatory huge drum in the center had an emblem that said "Background Johnny and the MIDIs."

They both turned towards the camera and simultaneously said "Combat music." The fight was on.

Avant stood at one end of the courtyard, his sword readied, and considered his options: fight, tech, item, run.

'Those seem like rather limited options. Couldn't I pretend to run, hide behind the wall, and attack from behind when lady cold over here follows me? Couldn't I try to wake the collapsed young woman who may be dying from internal bleeding on the other side of the courtyard? Oh, well; at least I can use cool tech skills. Let's try 'em out.' He thought.

"Tetanus Buster!" he shouted, and with a downward slash threw a blast of red energy at the knight.

The attack hit head on, but she simply stood, wincing slightly. She smiled, and ran towards Avant with her axe drawn back. She slashed him across the chest, and he staggered back slightly as she backed away to her original position.

'Whoa, dude; that's bad. I just used one of the techniques I've been training my entire lifetime to learn, and she just stood there. That's just—wait a minute, why am I still alive? I just got a full-blown axe-attack to the chest; I should be a screaming head with one arm and a bleeding stump of a body by now. It's not like I'm wearing armor or anything, just a friggin' t-shirt. I—' Avant thought, and was interrupted by Isis.

"Come on, already! It's your freakin' turn!" she shouted.

"Turn? What the blazes are you talking about?"

"You know; you attack, I attack. It's the rule."

"Err…"

"I'm waaaiiiting."

"Right. Hmm… let's see, I do have ONE other technique. Power Slash!" Avant cried, and jumped into the air with his sword held high. He crashed down in front of Isis, slicing downward with the Rusted Side-Arm as he did so, and Isis staggered back as Avant returned to his original position.

Once more, Isis smirked, and did a simple chest-slash to Avant, this time drawing blood.

'Like, ouch. That's really starting to hurt, dude; maybe I should use that potion.' He thought.

The Inquisitor sat hunched forward, considering his next move. He was down to about a quarter HP, and another attack would do Avant in. He scratched his chin thoughtfully, considering the potion in his inventory. It seemed that in this particular situation he always attacked first, so the potion would keep him alive another round or two; enough for one more attack, at least. But then, this Isis person seemed to be one of the bigger, badder villains; considering this, the battle was most likely unwinnable. He decided to save the potion; he might need it later.

'Hmm… maybe I should save it for the fainted maiden; she probably needs it more than I do.' Avant thought. 'Well, I think I'm about used up on Ki energy; looks like it's back to the old hack-and-slash method.'

Avant ran towards Isis, his sword held sideways in a cool Braveheart imitation, and slashed Isis across the stomach.

Isis grimaced as Avant returned to his position, and threw her hair back over her shoulder.

"I've had enough toying with you, hero. Freezing Wind!" she shouted, and pointed her axe towards Avant. The wind picked up behind her, and created a gale force which rushed past her towards Avant, taking with it a blustering of snow. Avant gritted himself against the wind, but was thrown back against the wall. The fight music ceased as he collapsed, and he watched as Isis turned around.

He smiled, and she scowled; her spell had put out the fires.

"Grraaagh! Astarte, get me a portal!" she commanded, and a dark gateway appeared in front of her. She turned to the two collapsed inhabitants of the square. "I'm not done with you two yet." She said, and walked through the portal.

Avant sat up, rubbing his head, and noticed that the lady in white was stirring. He stood up shakily, and walked over to her.

"Are you all right?" he asked, and bent down to check on her. She opened her eyes, and sat up with a wince.

"As soon as I can remember who I am, I'll let you know." She said, rubbing her head.

"You've got amnesia?" Avant asked.

"Yes, but I… wait, I think I remember my name…" she said, and the background—as well as Avant—disappeared behind her, leaving only a silvery moon surrounded by an expanse of stars.

A young maiden, touched by fate.

Her memories are lost, but her soul remains.

What shall you name her?

{ }

{All Right}

Is this name okay? Y/N

The Inquisitor allowed himself a moment of mild amusement at this pale imitation of wit. "Are you all right? Yes, I'm All Right." Shaking these thoughts away—he most certainly wouldn't do something that moronic in an RPG—he returned to the game.

N

Default

{Adora }

Is this name okay? Y/N
Y

The background returned to normal, and Adora spoke.

"My name is Adora. Adora Nightengale." She said.

"The name's Avant. Just Avant." Avant replied.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, sir Avant." Adora said as Avant helped her to her feet.

"Any idea who those two creepazoids were who tried to burn down the church?" Avant asked.

Behind him, the charred remains of the church collapsed.

"Okay, who did burn down the church?" he amended.

"Sorry; I'm afraid I don't remember anything before waking up just now." She replied.

"Eh; they're probably bad news, anyway. We should find somewhere to rest; an Inn, maybe." He suggested. She nodded, and they left the church square.

When they arrived in the village square, they stopped; the entire village, it seemed, had regained its wits, and was standing in the square. A large man in richly colored robes stepped forward.

"Father Cadmin, what can I do for you?" Avant asked.

Father Cadmin ignored his question, staring at Adora. "It is her! The angel of legend!"

Avant and Adora looked at one another.

"Any idea what he's talking about?" Avant asked. Adora shook her head in reply.

Father Cadmin started speaking at the top of his lungs: "Do you not remember? It is written that on the onset of gyration,"

'Great, again with this gyration stuff.' Avant thought.

"when the great fiend is about to awaken, an angel clad in white shall fall from the heavens in a chariot of fire. It shall be she, and the warrior without a past, who shall save us." Father Cadmin finished.

"Warrior without a past? Sounds like me." Avant commented, his ego swelling the tiniest bit.

Father Cadmin looked toward him. "You, what's your name, you shall assist this young lady in finding the warrior of legend." he said.

"Um, I think we've already—" Avant started.

"Show's over! Everybody move along!" Father Cadmin proclaimed, and the villagers left the square.

Avant frowned slightly, then turned to Adora. "Well, we still need to find a place to rest."

"The Inn, right?" Adora asked.

"Right. Of course, we could go back to my place; it would be cheaper, after all, and I've probably got clothing and such supplies in stock. Furthermore, the costs of food at an inn are economically unfeasible, given our sadly limited financial assets—"

STOP POINTING OUT PLOT-HOLES. Said the game program—err, a wandering spirit.

"How can there be holes, given that there is no plot? I mean, destiny is not set; rather, it is woven as one sets one's eyes upon the path and begins to walk it. The concept of a plot is the idea of a pre-destined fate, and I for one—"

HOW ABOUT YOU JUST SMILE AND NOD, OKAY?

"Indeed. It would not be wise to oppose the will of game program—err, wandering spirits." Adora commented.

"Fine, fine, and fine some more. The beds are more comfortable at the inn, anyway." Avant said, and he and Adora struck out towards the inn as the "wandering spirit" vanished.

They reached the inn, and approached the clerk.

"Would you like a room? It'll be 20 gold." The clerk said.

"20… what? Haven't you heard that we're supposed to save the world in the near future?" Avant asked.

"Would you like a room? It'll be 20 gold."

"Oh, great. This again."

"Would you like a room? It'll be 20 gold."

"Yeah, yeah. Here's your gold." Avant said, the scene faded to black.

As the scene returned, Avant and Adora were coming down the stairs.

"Wait a minute… we didn't go up any stairs." Avant said.

"I certainly don't recall doing so. Or sleeping for that matter." Adora replied.

"Man, you just can't find a quality inn nowadays."

"Perhaps we should purchase supplies before we start our journey?" Adora suggested.

"Good idea; let's head to the weapons shop." Avant replied.

Back in the real world, The Inquisitor had paused to check his watch. It read 3:00… a.m.

"Ah, crap; not again!" he griped.

Returning his gaze to the screen, he lead his party of 2 to a save-point in the inn's lobby, and saved the game. No sooner than he had done so, he heard…

*POUND, POUND*

"Great…" he muttered, and went to answer his door. This time, it was his evil stepfather.

"Do not waste your time.
Playing games is bad for you.
You should play outside." He said.

"I think that playing outside in the dead of winter, though favorable towards my good humor, would be counter-conducive to my health." The Inquisitor replied.

"Please do not talk back.
I am not punishing you.
Just do as I say."

"Must you speak in that asinine haiku?"

"Asinine haiku?
I conceive not what you mean.
Just go outside, James."

"Argh! I'm The Inquisitor, for blasts sake!" The Inquisitor replied, grabbing his coat. He turned off the Dreamcast, left both his lair and his house, and found himself once more outside in the dead of night. Ah, but the winter was glorious, and this truth was more than consolation for his exile from the gaming world for the night. He built a nest of the fallen snow, and slept soundly, dreaming of what the next day, chapter, and meal would hold…

To be continued… maybe…