[You Have Died.]
Taylor wanted to deny it. The whole rushing along a corridor of white light kinda sounded familiar somehow though.
[Request For Status Change to Hero - Pending.]
Okay that was a bit strange.
[Checking Request Log. 4337 Cosm Requesting Out-of-Boundary Hero.]
Okay, what exactly did that mean?
[Transfer Approved. Will Require Hero's Journey.]
Wait. Her mother had a lot of literature and had a stack of Tarot cards. Which dealt with the whole Heroic Journey and development. That did not sound like Heaven. Hell maybe.
[Fool's Choice]
[1. Legendary/Blessed/Cursed Weapon]
[2. Legendary/Blessed/Cursed Armor]
[3. Magical Powers]
[4. Magical Companion/Familiar]
[5. Download Skill/Special Ability]
[6. Immortality]
"Can I combine things so that I have a weapon with magical powers and can act as a companion to explain stuff?" asked Taylor, then was quite surprised as somehow she'd managed to speak despite the lack of mouth and such.
[Gift Selected.]
"Wait, that was a hypothetical!" shouted Taylor.
[World Selected.]
[Type IV Magical World.]
[Starting Destination: Jail Cell in Eiselcross]
"I'm going to jail?!" asked Taylor.
[Location: Level 5. Undead Halls of Hyr-Evah.]
[Good Luck.]
"WAIIIIIIITTTTTT!"
* Jail Cell. Undead Halls of Hyr-Evah, Eiselcross, Exandria *
"Agh!" said the girl sitting up on the tiny fur-lined cot. "COLD!"
"So, you're awake."
Taylor looked around. Stone walls on three sides. A narrow trench that stunk horribly over there, perhaps eight inches across and leading to darkness. One wall were bars, iced over.
"Aghhhhhrrrr," said one of the skeletal things that had a bit more flesh than the other ones that were reaching through the bars to get to her.
Taylor screamed.
"Right. Can we get over that part and maybe start on the part where you can try getting us out of here?"
Taylor looked around, finally centering on an old iron frypan sitting in one corner. "Did you... talk?"
"Yes. Hello. And while it's nice to be able to talk to someone at this point, it'd be even better if we could leave before you freeze to death or contract some magical disease." The voice was smooth, slightly British-sounding, and seemed made for sarcasm.
"Magical disease?" asked Taylor, not ever having expected to hear those words outside of a fantasy story.
"While I haven't seen evidence for such, considering how some of those undead look fresher than the completely skeletal ones, I am not willing to completely rule out the possibility. As I am currently a cast iron enchanted frypan, I doubt I'm going to get such a thing."
"What am I wearing?" asked Taylor, ducking back into the furs.
"Not much from what I saw," commented the frypan. "So, child, do you have a name?"
"Tay..." Taylor shut her mouth, remembering some old stories about giving out your name.
"Very well, Tay, here's the deal. I'm a magical multitool, advisor, companion, and so on. This is sort of new to me, and my memories are not entirely clear, so this will unfortunately be a bit of learning experience. I remember the term 'isekai' coming up, though such literature was always a bit beneath my own standards."
"'Isekai'?" asked Taylor.
"Alice in Wonderland. The Oz books. Narnia. Shield Hero. Overlord," said the frypan. "Or so I was informed. It's a narrative alternative to the clueless young child who has to have things about the world they live in explained to them. Because someone is new to the world, they can have things explained to them naturally as they encounter them. When it is applied to reality it's because you're an out-of-context or out-of-boundary figure - you don't immediately make sense to the way the world works and that gives you an advantage in dealing with that world's problems."
"That voice in the tunnel of light," responded Taylor. "It said I was 'out-of-boundary' or something."
"Ah, that explains a lot," said the frypan. "In order for a situation this screwed up, you didn't get a divine authority handling your case. You got the automated system. Predictable, really."
Taylor decided to let that pass by for now. "So, what's your name?"
"Me? I'm a magic frypan at the moment," said the frypan. "My past is rather fuzzy at the moment. I'm sure I have a name previous to this existence."
"You said you're a 'multi-tool' but you look like a frypan," observed Taylor.
"Currently this is my form," acknowledged the frypan. "I can see where I have other forms you can unlock. Well, at least there is a chance that the situation will become less... intolerable. Slightly. Pick me up and try swatting those arms reaching through the bars."
"If I do that, won't my hands freeze to your handle?" asked Taylor, letting out a deep cloud of breath to further illustrate how cold this cell was.
"If I were not magical, that would be a concern," admitted the frypan. "Handle's wood though, you'll just have to scrape the layer of frost off."
"With what?" asked Taylor.
"Walls? Some of your fur blankets there?" suggested the frypan. "Really, I understand I'm to be your advisor but some basics should be apparent... Odd. I wanted to refer to some past acquaintances as dunderheads."
Taylor began the task of whooping at the touch of cold floor on bare feet.
"I think the temperature in here is low 50s to high 40s, which is bad enough to be unhealthy," offered the frypan. "Better than the corridor though. I see icicles hanging from that patch of ceiling with the cracks. I do have to wonder where we are."
"You don't know?" asked Taylor. "I thought you were the advisor."
"I am," said the frypan. "I also have a sphere of observation some sixty feet across. I just don't know where or when in the multiverse we are. Lots of worlds, lots of universes, lots of possibilities."
"I don't suppose you can get me home," muttered Taylor as she picked up the frypan and was pleasantly surprised to find the ice was more slush and easily cleared off.
"Probably," acknowledged the frypan. "That's usually at the end of the Hero's Journey though as I understand it. You've got your Main Scenario Quest to get through. Some dark lord or evil dragon or something. I don't have the details yet - you probably have to get through the tutorial for that."
Hefting the frypan, which weighed quite a bit from the feel of it, Taylor took a tentative swipe at a reaching skeletal arm.
"Put a bit more oomph in it," suggested the frypan, which then talked her through the proper way to plant her feet and to use a two-handed swing.
There was a loud clang as she landed a solid blow against one of the arms - turning it to powder and bone fragments.
[Unlocked - Blunt Weapons 0.01%]
[Unlocked - Improvised Weapons 0.01%]
"Ah," said the frypan. "As I surmised."
"Which means?" asked Taylor.
"It means, Tay, that the more you do that - the better you'll get going through this obvious training set-up. You're up against animated skeletons. Have at them, then head back to your bed to warm up and get rest when you need to."
"I don't suppose quitting the game and going back home is an option?" asked Taylor. "And it's Taylor."
"Very well, Taylor. I'm not fae so if you're worried about the True Name thing, it's not a problem. Not that you should always trust any magical frypan you run across. This is my first incarnation as a magical item and I got stuck as a frypan so this is kind of new to me as well."
"What exactly are you then?" asked Taylor, taking another swing and blasting another arm into powder.
"Your magical companion and eventual multi-tool," said the frypan. "Most of what I used to be is locked away or erased. Can't tell at the moment. Just enough that I can tell I used to be something else."
"Bashing arms doesn't get us out of the cell though," pointed out Taylor.
"You have to start somewhere," pointed out the frypan.
"You're too heavy to keep this up," tried Taylor.
"I'm a twelve-inch cast-iron skillet," said the frypan. "I weigh about eight pounds. You're just not used to it."
[Blunt Weapons - 0.09%]
[Improvised Weapons - 0.09%]
[Because you've exercised with your Holy Weapon - +1 to Strength]
"I'm a holy weapon?" asked the frypan. "I'm not entirely clear why - but that somehow surprises me."
"I have no idea what... AGH! THAT SKELETON GROPED ME!"
"Probably by accident, you just backed up close enough to the bars that it could grab at you." The frypan went silent for a moment. "I think you've improved your swing at least."
Taylor was now smacking bony hands with great enthusiasm.
Her holy frypan decided that was good enough for now.
* Hours later *
[You have rested in a bed. HP/SP/MP restored.]
[Name: Taylor Hebert. Race: Human.]
[Strength:12, Dexterity:10, Constitution:11, Intelligence:14, Wisdom:10, Charisma:10]
[Title: Novice Hero (+10% experience bonus to level 10)]
[Job: Not Chosen, 950xp to apply when chosen]
[Feat: Not Chosen, 1 slot available][CP:3, Not Chosen][Skill Points:5]
"What's Job mean?" asked Taylor.
"Your role as a hero, I believe" said her frypan. "I'd suggest choosing something quickly. If it provides you a better chance of survival, there is less chance that I'll be stuck in a cell in a dungeon for eternity. That would be incredibly boring."
"List Jobs?" asked Taylor. "Oh. I got a bunch of boxes. Fighter, Rogue, White Mage, Black Mage, Summoner, Dancer, Geomancer, Monk? Maid?! Wizard?"
"You don't seem the 'in-your-face' self-confident fighter type, so maybe Rogue?" asked the frypan. "Though there is something attractive about the title of mage..."
"Oh, I see," said Taylor, clicking buttons that she could only see. "And... there. Feat?"
"Blunt Weapon Mastery?" asked her frypan.
"It's there," said Taylor. "Oh. That DOES sound handy. Extra damage and experience while using blunt weapons."
"Good," said her frypan. "Because there's more zombies among the skeletal hordes now."
"Pretend I don't know what that means. Because I don't."
"It means that they're a bit tougher than the skeletal horde," said her frypan.
"Still plenty of spooky scary skeletons," pointed out Taylor.
"And some of the skeletons have equipment," countered the frypan. "Which does mean something important."
"Which is?" asked Taylor.
"They have equipment you can grab and use so you're not wearing a tied-off blanket for your total sum of clothing," pointed out the frypan.
"That IS an important consideration," acknowledged Taylor. "Though I'm not sure about wearing something I took off a skeleton."
"Cleaner than taking it off a zombie, but I suppose you can look for laundry facilities."
Taylor looked out the bars of her cell. "Odds?"
"Not very good," admitted her frypan.
"So, if I can level up, how are you doing?" asked Taylor.
"Currently at 0.78%, so I'm hopeful I can give you a ranged option soon," said the frypan, sounding a bit more cheerful. "This will still be my default form, but remaining a frypan all the time sounds less than optimal."
"Ranged?" asked Taylor.
"A gun or wand would be nice, though a bow or crossbow would give you similar options," said her frypan. "Maybe something more exotic like a boomerang that always returns to your hand or a chakram that does the same. I suspect in either case a limited amount of time in the other form before reverting to this default state."
"Well, at least you're getting lighter," said Taylor.
"That's just you getting stronger from wielding eight pounds of metal around for a few hours," commented her frypan. "Ready?"
"Back to playing whack-a-mole with skeletal grabby hands," grumped Taylor as she stepped up and began swinging the weight again.
They had smashed twelve more of the skeletons before the frypan felt the desire to comment. "I really can't see where you're doing much more damage. Did you choose your feat?"
"Yeah," admitted Taylor. "I just didn't choose 'Blunt Weapon Mastery' - I chose 'Iron Will' where any attempt to use mental influence on me or around me gives me a chance to resist it."
The frypan was silent for a few moments. "Understandable."
"It's not that I don't trust you," said Taylor to her frypan, "it's just that I don't trust anyone."
"Also understandable," said the frypan. "Even to some extent - commendable. As there ARE cursed items and spells that can attack you mentally and... oh."
"Oh?" asked Taylor, smashing a grabby zombie hand.
[Frypan mode damage increased from 1d4+1 Bludgeoning to 1d4+2 Bludgeoning.]
"Not that, though that does sound helpful," said her frypan. "I was just able to access a monster encyclopedia of sorts. The spells and abilities are mostly unfamiliar, sadly."
"You're using a lot of terms I don't understand again," pointed out Taylor, smacking another zombie arm. "Oh! A ring dropped."
"Let me check it out before... I have Appraisal? Good, that does seem a good mentor-support type ability. Ring of Protection +1. It makes you a little bit harder to hit. Go ahead and equip it. Put it on a finger."
Taylor did, choosing her left index finger after some hesitation. She didn't feel any different.
"I'm using Appraisal again, see if anything comes up at your end," said the frypan.
[Ring of Protection +1. Adds 1 Armor Point to wearer.]
[Forged by the elven jewelsmith Rogai Willowswind in the Age of Arcanum, this ring was a gift for his lover Dahv Shadebranch who wore it until his own death in the buildup to the Cataclysm. It was taken by his killer, Mantis Greybane, who eventually made her way to Aeor and died there before becoming an undead minion in the service of Hyr of Clan Evah.]
"So it's useful, just not very," summed up Taylor.
"At least you know it's not cursed," pointed out the frypan.
[Unnamed Frypan has become Level 2!]
[Damage increased to 1d4+3!]
[Unlocked Firebolt!]
[Firebolt - cantrip (evocation) 120ft range, Verbal/Somatic.]
[Hurls a dart of fire at a target. Does 1d10 damage. Chance of igniting flammable objects.]
"Firebolt!" cast Taylor, pointing the frypan like a gun towards a zombie. A little ball of fire shot out and smacked the zombie in the head, giving it an odd look as the hair caught fire.
The zombie began running around, causing the flames to burn brighter briefly until it ran out of hair.
"Nicely done," commented the frypan. "How much did that cost in terms of your magic?"
[MP: 19/20]
"Good, good," said the frypan. "Try to stop using that when you get to five points. Running out would probably give you some sort of tired condition. I seem to remember something about students exhausting their magic and having to be hospitalized."
"It just became a shooting game, I'm up for that," said Taylor. "If I find something to burn maybe I can get a fire going. Firebolt! Firebolt! Firebolt! Firebolt in the corner pocket!"
"'Corner Pocket'?"
"Whatever you call that little bend in the corridor there," said Taylor. "I missed on the third one."
"Well, it's a ranged option at least," noted the frypan. "Try not to burn your bed or anything you need."
"I'm not going to-" began Taylor.
A loud roaring noise followed by a lot of screeches interrupted her.
"That did not sound encouraging," noted the frypan.
"Firebolt! FIREbolt! FireBOLT!" cast Taylor.
"You might want to save some for the thing that made all that noise," offered her frypan.
"I'm trying to level it," countered Taylor. "You get a Firebolt, and you get a Firebolt. And you! You get a FIREBOLT!"
"Your aim is getting better," noted the frypan.
"No recoil, and it's pretty much point and shoot," responded Taylor. "Oh, and Firebolt!"
[MP: 7/20]
"Rest, I'll keep watch," said her frypan. "You'll need to be at full strength for the Mid-Boss, I think."
* Four hours later *
"Sorry, Miss Taylor, I think you're going to have to get up earlier than later," said the frypan.
"Don' wanna," grumbled Taylor.
"The zombies have managed to loosen the bars of our prison," noted the frypan.
Taylor's eyes snapped open as soon as that had penetrated the sleep-muzziness. "Oh."
There was another creaking noise as the horde pressed further against the aged metal.
"I'm so damn hungry," grumbled Taylor to herself.
"Survive now, eat later," said her frypan.
[MP: 12/20]
"You might want to equip some of what's dropped," continued the frypan.
"I can't reach some of it," said Taylor.
[Opal Bracelet: 200gp]
[Torn Linen Undershirt: +0 Armor]
[Ragged Linen Pants: +0 Armor]
[Ratty Sandals: +0 Armor]
[Cracked Leather Belt: +0 Armor, one Trinket slot]
[Ring of Protection: +1 Armor]
"It's still better than trying to fight while keeping a fur blanket wrapped around you," pointed out the frypan.
"It's surprisingly clean for coming off zombies," noted Taylor.
"You're welcome," said the frypan. "I have a minor spell that allows for removing grime and filth. I expect I'm going to use it quite a lot."
"Oh. Thank you. That does make it a bit less creepy," admitted Taylor.
There was a rattle and and a rasping noise as one end of the barred wall came loose enough that zombies could start wiggling their way into the cell.
Taylor was quite ready, hefting her frypan, and beginning what looked like it would be a long grinding process.
It was.
The first zombie was dressed in some sort of ceremonial robes and had a large metal weapon in his hand. Taylor moved out of the path and swung her frypan against that arm.
The weapon clattered against the floor and the zombie lurched forward for the return swing of frypan to meet head and splat it.
"I am indeed VERY glad I have that cleaning spell," noted the frypan.
Two zombies jammed themselves into place trying to get through the narrow gap.
"Firebolt! Firebolt!"
"You're at half MP, Miss Taylor."
"Yeah, but now I've got two zombies burning to block... Damn that stinks!"
"Air circulation in your cell is rather poor, there's a breeze from that crack in the ceiling but it's also why things are this cold," noted the frypan.
"What, are you someone's mother in there?" asked Taylor.
"No, and I would thank you not to start calling me that," responded the frypan.
"Fine, I won't call you Mother Hen, but maybe I'll call you Alfred."
The frypan was silent for a few moments. "That is not my name, but I think I almost have it."
"Superhero comics aren't really a thing on Earth Bet, but there's been a couple of movies from Aleph," said Taylor.
"Alfred. You named a sapient magical frypan imbued with Holy magic - Alfred." There was a pause. "I'm not sure if that's a great or an awful choice."
"It's a great choice," Taylor assured her.
"Well, that being the case, I think I can manage this," said her frypan, shifting and blurring in her hands as it shifted material and form.
"You... you're a baseball bat," said Taylor, noting that it was easier to handle now.
"Yes, using wood from the Tree of Life," said Alfred. "Now, let's deal with some zombies, shall we?"
The next zombie lunged forward, shoving aside the remains of the two half-ashed zombies. Taylor thrust the end into its face and obliterated the entire head.
[Blunt Weapons is at Level 2 +10% chance to hit/damage.]
It sort of blurred together for Taylor after that, the shoving zombies widening the gap bit by bit and every one of them coming through quickly decimated by the faintly green-glowing baseball bat.
"If you'd" (WHAM!) "told me" (BAM!) "that I'd" (BOFF!) "be smacking" (WHACK!) "freaking zombies" (SMASH!) "a..." (THWAM!) "How long have I been here?"
"Two days, Mistress," said Alfred.
"If you'd told me I'd be smacking zombies with a baseball bat three days ago..."
"Yes, Mistress," said Alfred, managing a sigh despite the lack of lungs.
"Why a baseball bat, anyway?" asked Taylor after smacking another three of the intruders.
"Holywood does triple damage against undead," said Alfred after the next swing was completed. "There was a dropdown menu and it was all Blunt Weapons. This seemed the most useful in the current circumstance."
"Oh," said Taylor.
"Ah," said Alfred. "I remember some details now. Possibly because my level has increased. Possibly because of the healing effects of my current form. My name is indeed NOT Alfred. I am here, acting as your assistant, as an act of penance."
"Oh," said Taylor, smacking another zombie down. "What IS your name then?"
"My name, Miss Taylor," said the frypan, "is Severus. Severus Snape. And I indeed do have a number of things to do penance for."