0Ch
My vision blurs, then shifts. I hear the roll of the dice in my head. I desperately try to count how many of them are rolled, but to no avail. There are supposed to be six of them, each representing a basic life skill. But there's only ever five, with the one always missing.
If that die is never rolled at all, then nothingness is always placed in its stead. Zero. You know what's worse than being bad at something? Not being 'at' it at all.
I wake up once again, fully ready and yet not ready at all to face the new day. It has been a few days, near a week since I have appeared almost naked in a dirty alleway in Flea Bottom area of King's Landing.
Since that time I have managed to procure some rags to serve as temporary clothing, a rusty knife someone must have lost to act as my self-defense weapon and finally: a place where I can get food. Fortunately, there was a group of Septas which gave out small bits of food to people praying with them. I had no interest in the Seven-Who-Are-One, but I'd lie through my teeth to get some bread and soup.
But of course, my missing, never-rolled die makes sure everything is ten times as difficult than it normally should have been. Dexterity, Strength, Constitution, Intelligence and Wisdom. All working as intended, with varying degrees of success as is the case in most if not all human beings. But there is supposed to be a sixth skill available to everyone. Well, everyone except me.
Have you ever attempted to speak with someone who instantly assumes everything you say is a lie? Have you ever attempted to enter a tavern only to be forcibly removed because you're too repulsive to look at at? How about when you attempt to pet an animal like a cat or a dog and it runs away in fear or attacks you in anger?
My die responsible for the Charisma skill is missing. In other words, I have Zero in Charisma.
I tried to get around this and do some rules-lawyering. If everyone thinks I'm always lying, then if I lie they should think I tell the truth, right? No luck, they saw through my lies at once. What if I wear a mask, surely then they won't see how utterly disgusting I look? Didn't work, they assumed I was a thief or an assassin.
I feel a burning, searing sensation on my forearm which brings such pain that I almost fall to my knees. It is by sheer force of will that I refrain from screaming. A string of ugly scar tissue forms on my skin, bearing a reminder of my mission. I have yet to do anything from that grand quest I have been sent here to accomplish.
KILLITTLEFNGR
Yes, kill the current Master of Coin. Surely, that'll be easy when everyone sees me a disfigured, smelly, thieving liar. Piece of cake! If only I got something to help me. Some instructions would be nice. I'd even take the old cliché of some cosmic entity speaking to me in a white void. Nope, I get nothing. Worse, I get a really annoying handicap.
"Hey, here's a complete Fuck You when it comes to social skills. Now go kill a nobleman in the King's court, good luck bitch," I mutter to myself only to hear a drunken beggar tell me to shut up. I wonder if I'll even get inside the Red Keep by the time the Others take over the world and everyone freezes to death. Ha, nothing like a positive attitude!
Well, here goes nothing.