A/N: Hello to everyone who starting this story. I'll start by saying this is a RWBY/Dungeons and Dragons fanfic with elements of Overwatch and other media.
It fine if you don't really know them as I won't go to deep into every little detail but will explain the broader strokes so you'll understand what I'm talking about.
Anyways enjoy.
Chapter 1
Jesse wasn't sure what surprised him more. The fact that there was an afterlife or the fact that it sucked just as much as regular life.
Sweat trailed down his body, soaking in between the inner padding of his studded leather armor, which consisted of a vest, shoulder guards, bracers, leather chaps, and pointed boots. He had no idea what it was made of only that whatever animal it had come from was reptile in nature with rows of hard bony plates and way larger than his 5' 5'' frame would indicate.
If he could, he would have taken it off ages ago, but seeing that he was currently missing his left arm he'd have better luck at winning a boxing match against Mike Tyson than being able to undo all of those straps and belts that held up his ridiculous outfit. Though seeing as it helped cool him off by trapping moister close to this body it would be better for him to keep it on even despite his obvious discomfort.
A quick glance at the sky showed that the sun was barely reaching its peak.
He swallowed hard, his tongue like sandpaper briefly poking out to moisten his cracked lips.
Still, he continued to march on, trudging through the fine orange desert sand.
His goal was a set of rocky mountain formations in the far distance past even more sand dunes. He had spotted them several hours ago but even after walking nonstop it looked like he was no closer to reaching them. He doubted he'd be able to find much of anything there but just having any type of cover from the scorching sun would come as a huge boon for him.
He readjusted the large leather backpack, his steps feeling lopsided with the lack of counterweight on his left side to account for his missing limb.
Speaking of which, that was still a hard concept to swallow even with his lack of spit.
He'd always heard horror stories, just like everyone else on the internet, of people waking up in bathtubs filled with ice either missing a kidney or some other organ after a night of drinking. And just like everyone else he dismissed their concerns with a metaphorical eyeroll, deeming them in his mind stupid for their lack of awareness and poor choice of company.
What Jesse hadn't expected however was to wake up in the middle of a desert, missing his arm, in a younger version of his body and dressed in some professional grade Larping costume. If he didn't know better, he would have chalked everything up to some fever dream, the shatter moon above certainly didn't help, if it wasn't for the fact that it felt too real and it had been going on for several hours without any sign of it ending anytime soon.
Now let it not be said that Jesse McCree was dumb individual. He was after all an educated man having master's degree in mechanical engineering with half a dozen lesser degrees in other sciences, knew five different languages, and could completely rebuild a car engine from memory alone. That said he was also a cultured man, the likes of which could only be achieved through numerous hours spent on reddit digesting the various types of media that prevailed through modern society like movies, video games, anime, manga, light novels, etc.
Obviously the waking up in an unfamiliar setting was a trope he was used to seeing in such outlets, which is why he spent several minutes after trying to call up a system window or whatever alien being had dragged him there only to be left sorely disappointed when nothing happened. With no way to get answers he figured his best chance at survival was to find shelter.
Feeling his throat drying up he felt tempted to take out the half empty waterskin he found in the backpack but held back as he wasn't certain when he would be able to secure himself another source of water. Luckily, he didn't have to worry about food as much as he discovered a good 3 days' worth of rations inside the pack.
He continued to walk, every so often tracking the sun's slow descent. It was nearly sunset when he finally reached the base of the giant overhanging cliff at which point his legs decided to fail him. Not that he could blame them.
Dragging himself toward the cliff face, he tiredly began to pull out the contents of his pack until he located the nearly empty waterskin and took a long swing nearly causing himself to choke with how thirsty he felt. More carefully he took small sips of water swishing it back and forth in his mouth before swallowing.
"Gods, how can lukewarm water taste so fucking good," Jesse moaned as he took a moment to catch his breath. A sharp pain in his left side reminded him that he wasn't out of danger just yet.
From the position of the sun, he wagered he had at most half an hour till night fell. He might as well check his supplies while he could still see.
He quickly got to work dumping out the backpacks contents and unstrapping everything on its sides until he had a neat pile that looked something like this:
1 backpack
1 crowbar
1 hammer
10 pitons
7 torches
1 tinderbox
3 days' worth of rations
1 nearly empty waterskin
50 feet of rope
1 bottle of ink
1 ink pen
1 book about plants
1 iron pot
1 school robe uniform
15 Gold coins
1 handwritten journal
1 herbalism kit
1 lockpick kit
1 dagger
8 crossbolts
1 necklace
1 fancy screwdriver
"Fuck me," the lost boy groaned into his one hand as he stared at the screwdriver. It was a fancy looking piece of metal made out of stainless steel, bronze, silver, and even gold with a large red ruby on the pommel. Strange runic letters ran along the length of the handle all the way to the tip of the flat head. It was the name written in this foreign language, that he could somehow read, that gave him such worry.
'Jesse d'Cannith'
It wasn't until he got to the screwdriver that the pieces that he had been ignoring until now came together.
He finally had a clue as to where he was, or at least who he was supposed to be. How could he not when he was the one who made him.
For a bit of background, Jesse was an avid player of the widely known tabletop roleplaying game Dungeon's and Dragons. A game that had spiked in popularity as a direct result of the Covid restrictions. Afterall you could only play a videogame for so long before you wanted to interact with people beyond the constant t-bagging and suggestive language that implied you slept with their mother.
It had started off with a few simple online sessions between friends over videocall, then some virtual tabletop systems like roll20, before fully delving into more elaborate mediums as the restrictions for the virus was lessened until he was building entire 3D dioramas with custom printed character figurines. They'd even started to stream some of their games.
He was the DM, or Dungeon Master so to speak, who was in charge of designing the various adventures that the other players would experience and if he was truthful, he was pretty darn good at it.
Jesse d'Cannith was one of his first original characters serving as the party's first BBEG, or Big Bad Evil Guy, that they would have to defeat in order to complete their quest. Later on, he would make surprise appearances in different campaigns as a reoccurring background antagonist that would spurn the party into action. Occasionally he would also help the party serving as either a guide or temporary teammate in order to take down an even bigger BBEG. He had become something of an easter egg for their table with the other players always on the lookout for his involvement.
As for why he was called Jesse d'Cannith, it was because the first ever game they played in was a fictional world called Eberron, a sort of mix between classical fantasy setting with a mix of steampunk elements. A defining trait of Eberron were the twelve dragonmarked houses, otherwise known as The Twelve, that controlled much of the world through their various dragonmarks, magically birthmarks that appeared on some of their family members granting them special powers as well as indicating their involvement in something called the Draconic Prophecy. House Cannith served as the leader of The Twelve seeing as they were responsible for most of the manufacturing and development of the magical technology that permeated the world.
The name Jesse had come from his own name, Jesse McCree, as well as a small homage to Matt Mercer, a large influence in the D&D community as the Dungeon Master to one of the biggest livestreaming shows on the internet made up of professional voice actors. He was also the voice actor of the Overwatch character Jesse McCree, later changed to Cole Cassidy, who he based Jesse d'Cannith on.
Somehow someway, he had become his own D&D character, ripped from his world for some unknown purpose.
'But that doesn't explain the shatter moon,' Jesse thought, fairly certain that Eberron had no such celestial body. In fact it was famously known for having 12 moons, one for each month of the year.
Then again it wasn't like the world of Dungeons and Dragons was exactly set in stone. With it being a tabletop roleplaying game, you could play it any way you wanted, either changing or all right ignoring any rules that you didn't like. The proper term for custom rules was called homebrew, something that Jesse was quite familiar with. Unlike most games nowadays the point of D&D wasn't to win but to have fun, so there were literally hundreds of ways you could play it.
This brought him back to his main point.
Just because he was a seasoned D&D player didn't mean he knew everything about the game. Should this world functioned on different laws then his knowledge would be superficial at best and detrimental at worst.
Of course, there was also the possibility that this wasn't even Eberron, and he was in one of the other worlds that appeared in Dungeons and Dragons. The son of Cannith hadn't exactly been limited to his home world after all.
Overall, Jesse was left with even more questions.
A rumbling stomach quickly helped remind him that he had more immediate concerns than the irregularities of his kidnapping.
He hadn't eaten all day and if he wanted to survive the night he would have to start working on a fire.
Grabbing one of the ration pouches he opened it to find a small amount of dried fruits and nuts, a couple strips of jerky, and 3 blocks of hardtack.
Taking the thick looking cracker-like food stuff he took a bit and found it to be almost as hard and tasteless as its name indicated. It was like biting into a piece of old pizza crust but as the saying goes 'beggars can't be choosers.
As he munched on the hardtack, he was able to build a makeshift campfire using some nearby stones and one of his torches. Luckily the tinderbox contained some flint and steel, though it was still challenging to do it with one hand.
With the last of the sun disappearing over the horizon, Jesse began to feel the biting cold of the night air and recalled that he was still wearing his sweat-soaked clothes.
With no other choice he stripped off his armor and underclothes leaving himself bare to elements.
As he suspected there were all sorts of nicks and cuts from where the armor didn't fully cover, as well as a large amount of bruising in the places it did cover. The largest of which was so big that it took up the entirety of his torso as if a car had hit him dead center. While the lack of pain was welcomed it also left him slightly concerned.
The strangest thing he found however was a semi-luminescent tattoo over his left peck in the shape of stylized lyre that seemed to shift between a mixture of purple, blue, and green whenever it caught light. It was reminiscent of the mother of pearl sheen that could be found inside of clams.
Luckily, he knew what it was.
It was the Mark of Making, the dragonmark that proved you belonged to House Cannith.
That realization brought some very interesting implications.
If he really was Jesse d'Cannith, then that would mean he was capable of using some of his character's abilities.
Access to magic would certainly go a long way to ensuring his survival, something that would always be in question in a world that contained demons, dragons, gods, literal Cthulhu.
"Huh, I just realized how utterly fucked I am."
Shaking away such depressing thoughts, he refocused on his initial idea, magic.
To cast spells in D&D the character usually had to do provide one or more components, those being verbal, somatic, or material. Sometimes all three were required or just two depending on the spell. Verbal components usually meant magic words or chants, while a somatic component comprised of a hand gesture of some type. Material components on the other hand were a little more difficult to define other special objects that made the spell work for some reason or another. In the game verbal and somatic components were usually handwaved with players not needing to describe exactly what words or gestures their characters needed to make.
"Prestidigitation?" Jesse uttered half-heartedly as he wiggled his fingers over his dirty clothes, seeing if he could clean them instantly.
Disappointingly nothing happened.
"Firebolt," he called out, this time trying to shoot out a flaming projectile from his fingertips.
"No dice huh," he sighed when once again nothing happened.
He was about to give up before remembering something that made him want to slap his face, "Urgggg, how could I forget. Jesse d'Cannith was an artificer."
There were 9 classes that could cast spells in D&D: Artificers, Bards, Clerics, Druids, Paladins, Rangers, Sorcerers, Warlocks, and Wizards. While some could cast the same spells they did so in different ways.
Artificers for example were the D&D equivalent of magical engineers, using their tools to emulate the magical effects that say a wizard could.
Reaching for the rolled-up leather set of thieves' tools he opened it up to show a collection of locks picks, a small mirror, a set of narrow-bladed scissors, and a pair of pliers.
Taking the pliers, he went to his armor and found a small slit along the bottom of chest area that looked to have been made by either a small knife or an arrowhead. He places the two pincers on either side of the tear and spoke, willing the material to pull itself together.
"Mending."
This time he knew he got it right as an electric sensation traveled from his dragonmark, across his chest, down his arm and into the very tool itself. If he had to describe it, it would be similar to static electricity.
The effect didn't disappoint either as the pliers in his hand seemed to come alive as it pinched the material, completely ignoring its stiff and hard texture, then releasing it only to show the cut no longer there. It had disappeared as if by magic.
"…I'm a wizard- I mean artificer," Jesse murmured in amazement before correcting himself.
He didn't know what other spells his character had learned but maybe that journal would provide some clues.
-Skip-
As it turned out, looking through the journal had been a very good idea.
The journal read like a mixture between an adventurer's log and an engineer's sketch book. Not only did it provide a list of spells that he could use, though the journal called them arcane formulas, but it also gave instructions on how to make certain magic items.
More worrying however were the latest entry in the journal.
"-Father has been secretive as of late. I wonder if this has anything to do with rumors of a new Draconic Prophecy being found. He's even suspended my training, something that's never happened before, just so that we could travel faster-"
"-Father says that well be staying with Mother's people. I think he called them the Vistani. Perhaps I'll finally get to learn more about Mother. Father hardly ever mentions her and when he does its always with this sad longing expression, so I try not to bring it up.-"
"-The Vistani have proven to be a joyous people. They have welcomed us with open arms almost as if they had been expecting us for some time. I've come to enjoy dinner time, where everyone would gather around a large bonfire and share stories of their travels, many times either through song and dance. A nice change of pace from the usual silent mealtimes with father-"
"-Madam Grendel read my palm today. She says I have a great destiny ahead but to get there I would need to meet with tragedy first. Funny, Father almost says the same thing, though his warnings usually talk more about how great power can only be achieved through great sacrifices. I know Father expects a great deal from me, that why he pushes me so hard, to become the best version of me that I could be. …I just wish… never mind-"
"Father hasn't been feeling to well, so he's been staying in the wagon to rest. Madam Grendel tells me we will soon reach their homeland."
"Shit! Shit! Shit!" Jesse cursed as he finished the passage, a chill going down his spine at the implications.
That was the last thing he wanted to hear at the moment.
In Dungeons and Dragons lore, the Vistani were a nomadic ethnic group similar to the Romani people, or more commonly known as the gypsy. While not bad people themselves, they only appeared in one specific setting.
Ravenloft.
It is a cursed land existing outside of any dimension ruled by an Evil Vampire Lord. It was also part of a collective of other cursed lands that together made up Demiplane known as the Demiplane of Dread. It was the type of place where escape was impossible even though death and only a gruesome fate awaited anyone who ventured inside one. For a better understanding it's what you would get if you mixed Silent Hill, the Mist, and every other horror setting that ever existed into one.
"Fuck me in the ass with a cactus," Jesse cursed as he stared hopelessly into space, "I don't remember giving him this fucked up setting."
In his game Jesse d'Cannith's mother was never mentioned, half because it wasn't important for the story and in part because it added a certain mystery to the character.
Obviously, that wasn't the case now, as whatever had kidnapped him happened to be filling in the blanks.
"I need magic now," the de-aged boy said in complete seriousness, now knowing the true gravity of his situation.
It seems that before leaving Cannith had managed to learn 5 cantrips, an impressive amount for what he figured was still a low level character. They was [Mending], which he had used before, [Guidance], [Sword Burst], [Chill Touch], and [Spare the Dying].
[Mending] as previously mentioned helped repair broken objects, kind of like the reparo spell from Harry Potter only more limited in its capability.
[Guidance], gave a small supernatural boost to any one activity you wanted to achieve in the next one minute. Kind of like a Hail Mary that could make you luckier, stronger, faster, or just better in a general sense.
[Sword Burst], as its name suggested conjured spectral swords to swirl around the caster and damage nearby enemies. It was reminiscent of the flying swords from FF15 except without being able to block bullets and the other cool stuff.
[Chill Touch], summoned a skeletal hand that grabbed onto an enemy doing necrotic damage, like rotting flesh and stopping a regenerative abilities for a short time. Very useful against pesky ogres and undead like zombies and vampires.
[Spare the Dying], prevented a person from dying, simple as that. They could literal be a step away from entering the pearly gates and fist bumping Saint Peter before being pulled back to their gravely injured, but stable, body. Or in the words it made you the greatest paramedic in the world so long as you could touch them, and they were still technically alive.
The last of the two curiously enough came from a school syllabus. It would appear that before their impromptu trip, the two Cannith males had been on their way to Strixhaven, a magical academy. That would explain the school uniform he was wearing while his other clothes dried up. While not normally that important in a game setting, it did mean he could cast them without using a tool like the others.
"Sword Burst," he called out, and watched as several ghost-like swords of different shapes and size appeared around his body and began spinning clockwise around him, reminiscent of a giant blender. The blades only lasted for a second before disappearing into motes of light. While it ignored any objects, going through them completely, creatures within five feet of him would have certainly been hit by the attack.
"…okay, that was cool," Jesse spoke in awe at the flashy spell before shaking his head, "Unfortunately this places me dangerously close to an enemy."
Both Chill Touch and Spare the Dying needed a target to cast so he couldn't cast them just yet.
All that leaves are the level one spells.
Spells in D&D were divided into levels ranging from 1 to 9. Cantrips, previously known as Level 0, didn't count.
Spellcasters class each had their unique way of harnessing magic to cast their spells but they generally followed the rule of spell slots.
Each spellcaster were given a number of spell slots depending on their class level. At level 5 for example, a wizard would have four 1st level spell slots, three 2nd level spell slots, and two 3rd level spell slots. If you wanted to cast a 1st level spell you could spend one of your 1st level spell slots or a higher-level spell slot. However, if you wanted to cast a 3rd level spell you would need to use a 3rd level spell slot or higher. Cantrips were the exception to this rule since you could cast them an infinite number of times without using a spell slot.
You only had a few spell slots you could use a day after which you would need to take a long rest, usually 8 hours, to regain them back.
In really simple terms, you get a number of batteries, (Button, AAA, AA, C, D, etc.) that you sacrifice to power your spells, which you recharge after resting. The size of the batteries doesn't matter, just the amount of energy it contains so you can't use a smaller battery to power a higher-level spell.
Other than having the power to cast them, you also needed to know the spell you wanted cast. Depending on your spellcasting class you either prepared them or knew them. In the case of preparing them, the caster usually had access to all the spells in their class list meaning that they could switch and match the spells they wanted to cast that day. Knowing spells on the other hand, usually meant engraving those spells into your mind permanently so once you learned a spell you were stuck with it forever without the chance of switching it.
To better understand, spells were the process of manipulating something called the Weave, the magical equivalent of string theory, to bring out certain effects like turning lead into gold or shooting fire from your fingertips. However, the Weave didn't generally like to be messed with, so spells were almost sentient in the way they wanted to be forgotten by others. This is why spellcasters could only prepare or know a certain number of spells, because their mind could only hold so many before it became too much for them.
If Jesse had to guess, he was currently a 2nd level Artificer. Meaning he had two 1st level spell slots that he could use. Artificers also prepared their spells, so he could change what spells he wanted after a long rest.
These were all the spells that he found in the journal.
Absorb Elements
Alarm (ritual)
Catapult
Cure Wounds
Detect Magic (ritual)
Disguise Self
Expeditious Retreat
Faerie Fire
False Life
Feather Fall
Grease
Identify (ritual)
Inflict wounds (Strixhaven)
Jump
Longstrider
Purify Food and Drink
Sanctuary
Silvery Barbs (Strixhaven)
Snare
Tasha's Caustic Brew
"A shame I can't prepare any now," Jesse lamented since he'd only began his required 8-hour long rest.
Still, that didn't mean he couldn't do anything.
Each class in D&D had special abilities known as class features that were specific to them.
As a level 2 Artificer, Jesse had access to two.
Magical Tinkering and Infusions.
To comprehend what those were one would first need to know about magic items. As the name would imply, they were items that had magical effects. If spells needed casters for them to work, then magic items needed energy from the Weave, the magical force that permeated everything in the universe, to work.
Its simpler to imagine the Weave being one giant electric grid and a magic item being permanently attached to a socket.
Now while almost every person in D&D could potential craft one of these magic items given enough knowledge, time and resources; artificers where the only class that excelled at making them, being something a magical engineer.
Magical tinkering for example allowed them to invest a small spark of magic into tiny mundane objects to give them magical properties to either recording a message, giving off light, emit an odor, or making something appear on it. Now while they might appear magical, they weren't really magic items, since the magic effect was attached to them rather than coming from them.
Infusions however were a step up, where artificer could turn ordinary objects into magic items. The only difference was that rather than them getting their energy from the Weave it was coming from the artificer, and should the artificer ever die, the magic item would return to being an ordinary object. Making magic items was costly and time consuming so being able to make one after a long rest was a godsend.
Unfortunately, there was a limit to how many he could have active at one time. With only one object being able to hold a single infusion.
Jesse currently knew 4 infusions but could only have two active at one time, and should he try to infuse another item the oldest infusion would end. Similar to how you could have multiple appliances but only two electrical sockets. Either way he needed to wait at the end of a long rest before he could infuse anything.
Luckily magical tinkering didn't require a rest time just a set of tools.
Grabbing his pliers, he touched a nearby rock and focused on the effect he wanted to give it.
A small electric spark jumped from the pincers and into the small palm sized stone.
"And God said, 'let there be light'," Jesse quipped as he picked up the now glowing rock in his hand. It was like holding a lightbulb in the way it illuminated the immediate area in a steady stream of light rather than the constant flickering of the flames. That simple comparison was enough to twist in his gut.
It hadn't really sunk in until now, but he most likely wouldn't be seeing his world ever again.
His boss no doubt was wondering why Jesse hadn't shown up for work today. Perhaps all the missed calls would be enough to warrant a home visit only to find it empty. How long would it take before someone grew concerned enough to file a missing person's report. A day, two, no more than a week he was willing to bet. Then someone would inform his parent back in Texas, something that pained his heart just to think about. He would most likely die in this world, but his parents would always be left to wonder what had happened to their son, always carrying that small glimmer of hope that he would show up at their doorstep again, never knowing how utterly impossible that was.
Jesse let out a depressing sigh.
A/N: Thanks for reading.
This started off as an idea while playing a game of Dungeons and Dragons. Not sure how well I can express my idea into written form but I'll try my best.
If anyone was asking. This starts off 10 years before canon.
Below is a basic Character Sheet.
Name: Jesse McCree
Class: Artificer 2
Race: Human Variant- House of Cannith
Background: Strixhaven Student
Alignment: Chaotic Good
Experience: 420/900
Proficiency Bonus: +2
Current Hit Points: 20/20
Ability Scores:
Strength: 13 (+1)
Dexterity: 18 (+4)
Constitution: 16 (+3)
Intelligence: 16 (+3)
Wisdom: 15 (+2)
Charism: 18 (+4)
Saving Throws: Constitution and Intelligence
Skills:
Arcana
Insight
Perception
Persuasion
Proficiencies:
Simple Weapons
Light Armor
Medium Armor
Shields
Alchemy Tools
Thieves Tools
Tinker's Tools
Smith's Tools
Languages: Common, Dwarven
Spell Prepared
Cantrips:
Mending
Guidance
Sword Burst
Chill Touch
Spare the Dying
1st Level Spells (2 slots):
None
