I got a cold, I'm blaming it on why this is late.


Ch_2_Roadway_Recovery

Something feels. . . wrong.

My thoughts. . came to me at a. . . sluggish pace.

Still stuck in the dark haze, slowly coming back into consciousness. After officially being awake long enough to take in a long breath, the pain suddenly spiked, and my ribs ached as they pushed back against me.

"AKahdhh!" My yell came out in a half choked manner, with only being able to suck in small breaths as my chest cramped, and with the blinding pain that followed. "Fffuuu. . ."

A long minute passed, and the ache in my ribs slowly detached themselves as time went on. The desperation for oxygen had abated, and my breathing came easier as I continued to keep the rest of my body still. Over time my muscles relaxed, and the pain in my chest transformed into a brief agony, later only a lingering ache.

"Ugggggggh," I let myself collapse fully into the bed whilst allowing my muttering to simply ramble on, it's no tempurpedic but I wanted to sink further into the mattress all the same. "I need a NyQuil."

In an effort to pull the covers over myself, I briefly caught sight of the room around, and the bed that I seemed to be resting in. My tired mind noticed several. . . Oddities, as I did so. The blankets I'd been pulling up appeared to be wool, and lacking the regular sheets my bed usually had. I don't think this is one of mine, did I get dumped in bed? Hah, my brother definitely would've taken this for himself, I wonder if he's also sleeping in today.

There really wasn't any singular or particular thing that alerted me to something being off, just a feeling that kept me from going back to sleep. Like a lamer version of a paralysis demon. My instincts sat unsettled at the back of my brain refusing to let me relax, and I just ended up staring at the wooden ceiling above me. . . Wait, wood?

Where'd all the plaster go?

"Where the fuck am I?" I mumbled to myself, taking a proper look at the room I'd found myself in. While I don't have my glasses I could still make out vague details, I'm not disabled the world is just blurrier without them. What light could be seen entering the room came from a partially shuttered window, making it clear that my new room lacked any lights or a ceiling fan.

"Akhgg!" I yelped upon attempting to sit upright, large stretches of skin across my chest burned as I bent forward. However, it was my shoulder that brought the most pain, erupting into a burst of agony when I put pressure on my right arm. My arm spasmed, and I collapsed back into the bed, unable to bear the pain for a moment longer. "fuck"

God dammit, I remember now. Wish I didn't but, ugh. . .

However reluctant I may have been toward getting out of bed before, the current situation kinda demanded that I not sleep in. I had to confirm, for my piece of mind at the least. Peeling the blanket off of myself was an ordeal in of itself, I can be forgiven for wanting something soft after being stabbed.

There's no one here to judge me for a moment of weakness.

After getting a look at myself I'm double glad that there wasn't anyone watching, I let out several undignified cries. My body from my left shoulder to my waist appeared to be covered in bandages, I could feel parts of my back rubbing against a few bandages of their own. It explained a lot, several parts felt as if they were stuck to my skin, like the cloth covering the lacerations had grown attached to the blood leaving my open wounds. I was very much aware of the feeling as I watched my chest rise and fall, in line with my breathing. Trying again, the individual movements I made to sit up were made far more cautious this time, and with a fair amount of hesitation born out of previous experience. Rather not have my ribs cramp on me again as you can imagine. There was no adrenaline to numb the ache on this occasion, the spiderweb of pain covering my chest continued to dictate my actions. Once upright, the light coming into the room gave me a clearer view of myself. Patches of red could be seen leaking through the clothing wrapped around my wounds, and I tentatively tapped these stained spots in a sort of daze. Fuck my life, I'm going to have to wear a cast again, aren't I? What utter bullshit.

The bandages are going to be a bitch to remove, calling it now.

Actively tracing a finger across my tender ribs nearly brought a hiss to my lips, checking the current state of my wounds whilst being half afraid of going through the pain. The material was dry, it seemed that I hadn't opened any wounds or anything in my sleep. I ran out of luck when adjusting the wrappings over my shoulder, and my hand quickly abandoned the effort so I could instead bite down on it to deal with the sharp rise in pain. "MMMFFPmmsph!"

Had I not, I believe it would've turned into a full on scream. (Certainly felt like one even through me grit teeth) Could've sworn that I felt a gapping fucking dent in my clavicle before the pain kicked in, or it might just be the chunk of missing flesh. I wasn't sure, and I don't think it makes much of a difference. The entire upper portion of my body throbbed from the mistake, the tortuous pangs dissipated in waves and left a lingering ache in their place after a few minutes had passed.

For the record, I'd like to claim that my stumbling around the room to find my glasses was an entirely dignified process, but that would be lying. Closer to drunk Jack Sparrow as he steps onto the dock really, but one born out of pain rather than booze I suppose. I don't recommend letting your arm swing around after taking an ax to it. I did eventually find my stuff on a desk, my glasses left cleaned, and with my backpack set on the other side. Both should've been stained with blood, but I did see one of the straps to my pack had been partially torn. On the same side that it felt my shoulder had been torn open.

A pretty sparse place, full of wooden pieces of furniture, and other amenities. The metal doorknob shined mockingly across the room to me. The blurry memories of a burning town flickered across my mind, and my body tensed up uncomfortably so.

Leaving this place was my next goal, or suppose limping my way out that is. My legs are fine, that's not the issue, it's just that the rest of my body seems to be intent on objecting to that plan of action. Namely in the form of overwhelming agony if I choose to move faster than a single mile per hour, a lesson I learned early. Dragging my shit along the floor behind me was my first tactic, it didn't work. Slinging it over my good shoulder was my second idea, went a little better than the first, but not without its own fair share of unshed tears. I could put on the other strap of my backpack, but I'm not going to, I don't want to risk doing something dumb and pass out from it.

I'd probably be lying still on the floor, crying uncontrollably because of the pain by this point. I should be, considering the recurring ebbs of pain originating from my shoulder, but I don't think I have any tears left granted the circumstances I'm in. Don't really have any other choice now do I? I'll just take my chances and all that, do or die after all.

A part of me was still convinced that my bone had shattered like glass, but if I were to be fair the state of that section of my collarbone probably more closely resembled a used glowstick.

A magic glowstick.

Hah, a magic glowstick. . .

. .I'm going insane, or it might just be the pain. God, what I wouldn't do for a tylenol right about now. Oh, I'd kill for a bottle full.

. . .

Well, I could probably scratch murder off the list, but my point still stands.

The sound of the door closing behind me almost seemed to bang tremendously, and the wounds covering my body practically ached as it did so. The resulting noise of the door closing was probably quieter in reality, can't say that I bothered to reassure myself of the distinction at the time.

Spots on the wall hold small candles in metal cages, hooked onto the sides of the hall, and presumably lit to provide light where sunlight wouldn't be able to reach. It's only a few more steps down the hall that it finally clicks in my head, I'm walking barefoot. Should've checked where my shoes went, and shirt too. . Maybe not a shirt, that would've been a whole ordeal. At least I still have pants ahhh, not exactly jeans, but it's better than nothing.

I'm not one for regrets, but I can make an exception in the case of self loathing. There was a turn in the hallway, that alone would not have been too bad of an issue to deal with. If not for the staircase that came right after it.

Stairs going down to be specific.

Now under any other set of circumstances this likely would've been a non-issue, but walking is quite taxing to begin with at the moment, and I already have two left feet. One of my feet slipped, and the momentum carried the rest of me down. I did try to grab the guard rail, and then I fell down a step and had to do it all over again. Every level that I went down too fast sent a shock up my spine and into the rest of my body, some of it leaving spikes of pain in my wounds.

Just land on center, slam the heel, I'm way too close to the edge! BRACE!

FUU-

THUMP!

ow

mMmmmmm

"Rae uyo largiht?" Someone's words vibrated inside my skull, I don't know what I hit, but I pushed myself off and back upright, groaning as I did so. I didn't notice the hands on my shoulders keeping me from falling on my ass, my limit for pain has basically been met for the day. My face stung, the feeling becoming an ache as I removed my glasses to rub my face. It's definitely at least been bruised by whatever it was that I hit, or whoever it was in this case.

So this is what it feels like to be a blue shell in Mario Kart.

Ah, that's certainly one way to get the adrenaline pumping. The pain is still there but just numbed compared to how it was. I'd still prefer a painkiller that didn't require me to go through a bunch of grief, I can work with of course, but is there nothing else? My poor nose though, it knose this was a bad idea. . . ugh, nope. No more puns, reopening stitches are not worth shitty dad jokes.

I don't want to put my glasses back on, my face still hurts.

However, I also don't wish to hit a wall so they go back to my face despite making a great argument consisting of 'Ouch". I'm going to have a dent in my face from running into shit, that, or my glasses are going to end up broken. They're kinda useful, I don't carry spares, and I don't think I can get them replaced here. I put them back on, and spotted a man's broad chest directly in front of me.

Ah, that explains it.

"Hahahhahaha."

Oh god, it hurts too much to laugh, but it really shouldn't be this funny. I'm losing it.

Mans is so fucking tall, and is built like a shit brick house, I'm not even exaggerating. It's like turning a Roblox character into a human being, or if the term 'build like an ox' was real. Give Paul Bunyun a run for his money, and that one black guy who made railroads. God what was his name again?

I'm not sure where the guy I ran into is leading me, more focussed on the whole 'clinging onto the man so I can walk straight without dying' really makes a man feel like a mole rat. This is hella emasculating, just embarrassing in general, and the only reason that I'm not bitching about it more is because there's just no energy left to do that. My insistent giggling probably isn't helping in the slightest, very much might make me seem all that more deranged. I am trying to reign it in, and I am failing badly.

I think he works here, or if not here then somewhere nearby, the dirty white apron gives off a certain impression you know? Butcher maybe? . . . God, I could do with some crutches, anything to create some distance, it's just that I'm so close that not staring is really hard. If there was a good way I would, but there is no good way of going about it, unless you're a kid. One second thought I'm still wrong, that's some horror movie shit.

grROWwlL

Aaaaaaaannnnnnd there goes the last of my dignity. Couldn't ya wait for two more minutes selfish prick.

We make another turn passing the candle-lit hallways deep within the building, and into a lobby of sorts. Plenty of tables, chairs, stools, and serving countertop off to the side. Looks a bit like a medieval hotel, an inn, or guess more accurately a tavern place. The guy drops me off at a table, a corner of the room with a view of the front door. It's one of those cool swinging doors from a western, but like a full version instead of looking more like a gate. All the bells and whistles, the bell part is literal with featuring a metal ball thing hanging off the top of the set of double doors.

I just kinda

.

.

.

Zoned out.

CLINK~!

Huh?

Winding back in, my eyes caught sight of a plate full of food with a mug resting beside it. My head spun around to spot who left it for me, only to catch a grinning older woman in a brown tunic waving at me from the other side of the counter. I just awkwardly waved back with my free hand before turning.

Guess I shouldn't waste food, better than going hungry. Dragging it closer revealed that I'd been given cooked beef, alongside a mixture of vegetables. There was popping coming from the dish as if it was still cooking, or just recently been on the grill before reaching me. The salt was present in a more than healthy amount that I expected, but the drink I'd been handed certainly took the edge off. I could feel the heat from the meat, the sounds of tearing and cutting into it so distinct to my ears. The utensils I'd been using were dropped, and the last bit of cooked flesh I'd cut was painfully swallowed before I pushed the rest to the other side of the plate. Whichever the drink is. rum or beer, it's certainly bitter enough to count as alcohol. Just anything to wash out the previous taste in my mouth, and if it takes 4 gulps then it's well worth it.

Maybe later.

As much as I like protein this is too much, and while I will go back to eating it, but I'm never eating a steak this close to rare ever again. Call me a 'Well Done' coward, but I've had enough of this metallic tang. God, I haven't had a salad in so long. I've not had something this clean in years, and it's sad that it's true.

I've never craved a baked potato more than now.

Satisfaction settled in my chest as I ate, and despite my drink not being cold, a cool sensation clung to the back of my throat. The inflamed parts of my wounds lessened, and the pressure on my arm abated making it easier to move. I moved the mug I'd been drinking out of to my previously injured left side, and simply tested my finger's grip on it to see if it reignited the past spiderweb of pain. My hand brought the cup up to my face to down the rest of it, and chose to use the same limb to wipe my face clean. Breathing in deeply at the realization, and finally stretching to help wake up the rest of my limbs.

"God. . ."

". . ."

"I need to get more of this."

One part of me is screaming about how long it took to get a painkiller, the other doesn't care.

I felt like shit, and I still do, but god this is so much better. Certainly kicked the hell out of my pain for the moment, essentially buying me a moment of clarity, and probably more if I don't worsen my state further. Where the hell was this when I needed it before? Just feels like I've asked this question about a million times already, but just in case God's listening. . .

"Where am I?" My query came out silently, slowly, but the words were clearer still with my sudden change in health. That change slipped in to alter my depressed attitude that I'd been bearing, and going so far as to slip into my tone. . . a tired, but clear one. Farther away from the pathetic whines I'd been releasing earlier, yet more desperate all the same. "Why?"

I don't think there's a way to feel better at this point.

hah

It doesn't matter.

There's probably a reason, but if there is one, and I bet there is. . . well. . . the Here, There, and Me. I know why lightning strikes, why it does twice, but most of all why it would thrice.

I'm a lightning rod of sorts I think, but I don't feel all too different. With a storm you know the edges where everything can be swept away, and this meanwhile is just guessing when my luck at the metaphorical casino would run out. Did I do something for this to happen? This can't be deliberate, I'm no physicist, but the energy you'd need to rip a hole through realities would be too immense. There was no portal for christ's sake, but I don't even know what to look for if it was. I didn't even notice a change, no blink and you miss it. There was no truck to kill me, this is too unsettling, what Checkhov's gun did I have the misfortune of running into?

I don't like this, and I could still be wrong.

You don't have to be an ER doctor to see how wrong, and how badly this could go, if I fuck up this could very easily turn bloody. This is too much to be by accident, the other shoe hasn't dropped I'm sure of it. Any idea I have at this point would merely be speculation at best, and drive my paranoia up the wall, I just don't know anything for certain yet. Shot in the dark, that's what my chances are. Once again, I'm glad that I can't dream so I can't have any convoluted nightmares from all of this. If I'm not already dreaming that is, and I better not be comatose.

I'll just have to be careful then, stay alert the entire time.

And to think I just wanted to relax, argh, what fun. There's not been many chances to relax today, ironically enough I've been more preoccupied than I was yesterday. Who knew that fighting for your own life would be a relatively simple and straightforward process by comparison. As long as you properly rationalize the self-defense part, it shouldn't be a huge hurdle. Unless you happen to be a pacifist, then I guess it would be an issue. No different than killing a chicken.

Maybe my first thought when it comes to killing people shouldn't be butchering a farm animal, I wonder if that makes me unhinged.

BAWTASH!

"HUAh, I can pay the tab or bill or whatever!" The sudden warped thumping sound slamming against the table startled me back into the here and now, my previously distracted mind sobered up in an effort to save me. A wrapped bundle had fallen onto the table in front of me, and the same woman snaps me out of my thoughts for the second time today. It's times like these I wish that I didn't daydream so much, such a bad habit, and it's not even the worst of mine. Well, if there's one silver lining to be had it's that I have the opportunity to quit loads of my bad habits.

My shouts likely fell on deaf ears, but the panic in it was probably clear. The woman patted my shoulder, and gestured to the package she'd placed in front of me.

"Okay?"

It's my clothes.

Well, below the sack that she gestured to contained all my old clothing. I expected huge cuts to still be in my shirt, and sweater, but in their place were pieces of cloth stitched in putting it back together. Not quite the right color, and it's pretty easy to tell where it's been torn.

"T-thanks," My gratitude came out choppy, and I tried to return the smile the woman was giving me with one of my own. Regardless of the quality in the repair, I never really considered that I'd be able to wear any of this again. I probably still won't be able to wear it here, but I'd like to still have the option. I hope she understood, and with her repeated gesture pointed out the bag with a hand, I think she did.

Taking a deep breath I moved the bag closer to me, and pulled the sack open.

ClinkClinkClinkClinkClinkClinkClinkClinkClinkClinkClinkClinkClinkClinkClinkClinkClinkClink~

What the hell!

A whole pile of shiny coins almost spilled out, and a few metallic bricks flashed a brilliant shade of yellow after being exposed to the morning's light.

"Woahwoahwoah!" The bag gets sealed back up, my own voice rising a couple of octaves just as my hands retighten the sack. It and my face practically burned as I tried to hand it back over to her. "I can't take this! This isn't mine, I'm not a thief, you can have it for the food!"

The older woman just softly chuckles at my panic, sending her black bangs flying from her merth. Acting as if she knows something I don't.

I don't like not being in on the joke.

Turns out it's not, which almost makes it worse. The owner, or who I assume to be the owner at this point, gets yelled at by the man behind the counter wiping down his hands. She just waves him off, pats my shoulder and offers me the sack one last time before leaving, taking the finished meal with her. The cook squirms out of her grip when she tries to mess with her face once the plates are put away, she could be his mother. The cook catches my eyes as I'm staring at them, and nods back at me, before returning to the back room where I can see a pot boiling as the door closes behind him.

uh

well

Guess I'm a leprechaun now?

. . .

Was I just paid for murdering people?

The realization hits me when I return to the ground floor lobby again, going down the stairs went far more smoothly than the first time. Properly dressing myself in my room at the inn before deciding on what to do next, that being to leave. Just readjusting the weight from my backpack after reaching the bottom of the stairs, and shifting the strap further away from the wound on my shoulder.

I drop a stack of ten coins on the counter before I leave.

At the moment I swung the doors open a hint of hesitation slipped into my stride, and I took the opportunity to peer out into the world whilst in the doorway of the place I'd been staying. Wandering around the place was the first thing I did, just stumbled around the village to see the place I'd only witnessed burning to the ground the day before. Blackened burned out buildings to one side of me, a start difference to the untouched intact ones to my left. There aren't many shops, the buildings that do surround me appear to mostly be ordinary homes, or at least wooden cottages that weren't nearly as grand as the inn I'd been in. A makeshift barricade blocks off the street heading further into the rumble that makes up the rest of the town that had burned down.

Looking back at the tavern, it stands out amongst the rest of the neighborhood with a sheet of polished metal hanging from a post. The wind made it lightly swing back and forth. I can't decipher the words that adorn the plaque, but when the breeze settles they seem to read "Nrothavle's Emm". One of the shutters of the inn springs open, the older woman's familiar face sliding into view, and she waves at me from inside.

I return the gesture.

People seem to be recovering, some are out and about with what must be their daily chores, and while I don't stay long enough to speak with any of them I do share some awkward waves. One man's dragging a sled hooked onto a huge log of wood, taking it somewhere I can't tell as he passes by me. Through an open window there's another woman changing the bandages across a man's face, my pace speeds up so as to not linger on the scene. Don't know if I'd be able to deal with my hometown basically getting firebombed, at least not as well as they seem to be. There's a part of me in the back of my brain that's screaming how everyone is looking at me, and I just know looking out of place in the clothing I have isn't helping. The town isn't quite empty, it just gives off a vacant feeling.

Closer to the edge of town my eyes spot, and ears catch frantic work being done around the sole stall in this area of town. An odd time to be selling things, or maybe the best if people are truly in need of certain supplies. A red headed lady yelling out at anyone that'd pass by, catching sight of me not too soon after I noticed her.

"Wlecmoe, wlecmoe!" The young woman beckoned me to come towards, and points to the various items she had set up on display. Bearing silks both on a rack and covering her person, wearing a low cut but very complicated looking button down shirt. Aside from the ponytail that she flipped over her shoulder, or the lone coin she was flipping through her fingers, it was the strange circular emblem on her shirt that caught my attention the most. Her tone changes after noticing my gaze on her, eyes flickering in some sort of realization. "Oh, od ouy lkie what ouy ese?"

I remember seeing paintings depicting merchants from the days in the renaissance, some of the looser parts of her clothing resemble them. The symbol on her chest looks a bit out of place, found nowhere else throughout the rest of her wares. At least on the outside, it could be a family thing, and or more belonging to that of a guild.

Times like this, knowing the language would definitely help.

I picked at my own clothes, waving at my entire body's general direction, and tried to ask if she had anything of the like. Getting a second set of clothes would be helpful. She suddenly perks up, grabs my sides pulling me closer to stare intently at my chest, and clicks her tongue before disappearing deeper into her stall. While I didn't expect miming to work, I also didn't expect that.

There's sorta no one out front anymore.

Feels a bit awkward just standing here, so I just decided to skim the wares she had set out. I saw a metal medal thing, I don't know what it is exactly but it looked cool, a nice souvenir for whenever I got out of this place. Despite my attempts to remain calm, when the merchant returned she caught my gaze lingering on it, winking at me as she brought it and a bundle of clothing forward. It appeared to be closer to a badge now that I could see it clearly.

Not quite gold, like bronze, brass I presume. What an odd choice of material.

It felt off, like it had been vibrating as the shopkeeper handed it to me, and seemed to hum in our combined grip. The moment after it left her hand and came into my possession, the feeling went away, and a strange vibration took its place. The sensation was sent into my skin, a chill trailing down my spine leaving me locked in place for a moment longer before the medal disappeared in a flash.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-" The red head jumped in surprise, mimicking a startled cat almost blowing out my eardrums.

I don't think I need to know the language to understand.

When the light died down, there was additional weight to my frame, but beyond that not much else seems to actually have changed. Well, aside from the screaming shopkeep that is. Average day at Hot Topic not gonna lie.

So yeah, I brought everything.

Apparently those gold bricks that I'd been lugging around were worth like a hundred gold coins, because when I handed it over hoping to make things better. If only to schmooze over the weird thing that happened with the badge, further inspection when I wasn't panicked revealed that it attached itself to my shirt's collar. Nearly blue through half of my cash, my five gold bars went down to three with a handful of change to spare. Me and the shopkeeper worked things out though, probably gave her a few gray hairs in place of her bright crimson locks, but it's all good now. Probably cost me more than it should to reimburse her, but I don't much mind if being labeled as a thief is something that I can avoid.

The way that money works here is weird, makes some sense, but still odd. Golden bricks instead of paper or plastic bills, carrying all of this around is going to be an exercise in itself. I'm just going to avoid all of the pickpockets, and leave my cash in my pack with the rest of my stuff.

Made sure to grab some other stuff aside from clothes.

I think the previous pure cringe that inhabited my previous spending spree helped me with the next, or maybe my terrible luck finally changed for today. Black holing that entire experience is on my to do list. She offered for me to taste a drink, and the same refreshing sensation I'd felt at the inn washed over me. I bought three bottles worth of it, didn't think I'd get my hands on a painkiller again, but this opportunity isn't going unseized. There was food, so I got some salted meat, assorted fruits (mostly oranges), and a bunch of bread. Most importantly though, I got a massive sack, traveling pack thing to put my stuff in and hide my actual backpack inside of it. Most, most importantly though?

I have a map now.

. . .

There's no point in staying.

I'd returned to the 'Nrothavle's Emm' briefly, to try and shake the hands of the people who had helped me, at least try to express my gratitude to them. Beyond that? I waved to the red-haired merchant before I left, taking the main roads path out of town. Nervously, I fidgeted with my old knife. Passing burned out husks of homes as I went, the smell of burnt pork would hit me at points where I'd wandered too close to certain buildings. There were charred remains of people on the other side of some houses with collapsed roofs, I even spotted a litany of corpses with weapons on the street. I don't know the final count of how many people died yesterday.

I'd rather it stay that way.

There didn't seem to be a depressive air surrounding everyone, or at least it wasn't all consuming. An almost picturesque scene looking at it from the outside in, with a clear summer's day shining upon the place, and with fluffy clouds littering the sky. Ruined by two facts, the blackened ruins of burned buildings and the feeling that came with leaving.

The village that is, before I wasn't sure until now what the right word for the place would be. It's not large enough to have been a proper town, maybe a large village before it had been ransacked.

Wouldn't mind settling down in a little place like this, maybe when I find my way back home. I could stay, I shouldn't though. If I can still return home, that's what I'd like to do. It's definitely a close second.

Maybe, maybe.

.

. .

. . .

. .

.

I've never gone camping before.

Always wanted to put up a tent, make a bonfire, toast some smores, and harass the local wildfire. The usual fair as is custom.

This is not that.

As I sat cross legged across a pile of logs and sticks, a carved out dirt patch separated it from the rest of the forest around me. Trying to get a spark with two random rocks I'd found, and I could use the rubbing method, but I think I need rope to make that work. Damn, I should've bought rope.

Should've bought some flint too, or checked to see if they had some matchsticks. That would make this easier.

"Welp," Muttering to myself as I tossed the rocks in hand deeper into the darkening forest around me in favor of cracking my neck. I need a break, because this is the most boring thing ever. Whilst tearing wood shavings from a dry branch to create tinder for my non-existent fire, there is no greater point in my life that I've experienced a worst skill issue. My eyes wandered over to my right hand as I did so, the same hand cursed limb I'd used to summon fire not so long ago. "I really shouldn't. It's official, if I even try that means I've gone bonkers. There's no going back from this, god I wish I had an excuse that this is all some sort of shitty dream."

"Cept I've never dreamt."

". . ."

"Cept for now."

". . ."

"This has to be the most boring version of the matrix ever."

". . ."

"God I hope that I haven't just jinxed myself," Taking in a deep breath drooping the remaining pieces of wood that I had gathered into the pile, and snapped my blade shut. A mixture of reluctance, and anxiety burned my tongue as I spoke out loud. "Hand, I like you, you're the one I use all the time to scratch my balls. So, please don't blow up like that guy who held a firework for far too long. I only have 1 of you to spare, so don't fuck this up, I'm trusting you."

My hand, being that it is not in fact a separate entity to me capable of independent thought or the ability to voice any such opinions, remained silent.

"Great job man, it only took you a day an a half to start babbling to yourself. That's a new world record! All we need now is a beach ball, and a marker," The glasses came off so that I could pinch the bridge of my nose in an effort to steady myself, wiping down my face with my two palms. Peeking out through the gaps in fingers to contemplate my current existence, a pretty bleak and stupid thing to do in retrospect. The embarrassment probably painted my ears a firm pink, that is if I could see them currently. "Ugh, stop being so fucking pathetic. Momma didn't raise no punk ass bitch."

"It's just fire," The short mantra went on repeat inside of my brain, the creeping realization that it might not even be possible. Shaking off the remnants of my anxiety, and ignoring the chilling afternoon air surrounding me. There's no true point in contemplating if all that happened on that day was a mere fever dream. "It'll be fine, it'll be fine, it'll be fine."

No harm in trying.

My heartbeat ebbed within my chest, blood charged and pulsing throughout my veins. The sound rang in my ears, echoing heavily. Afternoon chill flowing through the air, such a drastic difference compared to the ichor practically boiling within my flesh. Natural shivering urge shook my body, my hairs standing at end, and all in a desperate effort to stay warm. I took another deep breath, a sudden one, and in the intermediary moment that passed my mind came to a complete stand still.

zzzzzZZZZZZZZZZZZZZzAAAp

I felt it happen all at once, -

b-Ba-BOOM!

and I heard the lightning bolt after I saw it flash in front of me. My brain clicked back online, jump started just as I felt the ground shake beneath when the light came crashing down. The heavens had opened up, however briefly it was, only to blast the carefully crafted pile of wood. My pathetic excuse of a campfire was largely replaced by a gaping hole and scorch mark, just casting such a spell startled me enough to jump, but it did end up torching some edge pieces. Enough to restart my campfire with prime kindling, blackened hot red coals of tinder, but kindling nonetheless.

Uhuh. . . task failed successfully, I suppose? Bit anticlimactic if you ask me, but after all 'if it ain't broke don't fix it'.

Shit! Some of the kindling landed in the forest! Shitshitshitshitshitshitshit!

I tried casting fire again later, didn't have much luck. Blew it up, and just settled for the kindling plan.

Would it be wrong to say casting spells feels like sneezing?

I'll readily admit that it sounds like that's coming from left field like, but it's honestly the closest feeling I can compare it too. Imagine the tingly itch on the bridge of your nose just before that final bit of cold air tips you over the edge. Your body doesn't lock up the same way, and . Might just be lightning though, I was tossing fire balls like Mario before so. . Hmm, I suppose the biggest difference is that you have greater control over this itch, and that the sneeze can be manually triggered with. . . Magic?

There's not a single clue to how I did it, I ain't got a scooby or nothing. I've primarily just resorted to using the same tricks that I do when getting rid of the urge to sneeze when I'm sick. Ugh, god dammit, I just wanted to avoid a nicotine addiction, but now I'm stuck in fucking wonderland.

Whatever, I'll settle for being a medieval Palpatine.

. . .

Wouldn't have to settle for that for very long. Long story short? I figured out fire magic a few days later.

The next couple of days passed without incident, more or less that is. Still fumbled my way through buying things in the next village that I came across, and while I don't really know where I'm going, the goal is the big settlement symbol at the center of the map I bought. Kinda pointed at the spot on the map to get advice, advice that I couldn't fully understand, but I think I got the jist of things. Had a bit of a meltdown over being stuck in bum fuck nowhere, yelled my throat sore, and generally felt sorry for myself while kicking rocks down the road. Haven't burnt down any forests yet.

All in all? Pretty mixed results, if I were IGN I'd rate this experience a 6/10.

Though to be fair, I did abuse my magical ability so that I could recharge my phone. Going without tunes is simply not an option, but I was very scared when the possibility of blowing up my phone was a distinct outcome. I do not know how many volts, or amps are running through me, but I eventually made a complete one eighty on my hesitation. Walking along dirt paths for hours on end is insanely boring, if I'm going to be stuck in fantasy land there better be tunes I can listen to. I do have a few books, but walking and reading aren't very compatible activities.

I'd rather die by wolves than of boredom.

It's not my smartest decision, but then again I never claimed to be a smart man. That being said, my utter lack of common sense also impacted my competency at casting magic. I'm only slightly embarrassed to admit that it took me like two days to remember how combustion works, it really shouldn't have taken me this long to figure out fire magic.

I'm not entirely sure what the 'shortcuts' are in order to conjure the different forms of magic, like the difference in methodology between lightning and fire. My best guess is that breathing in with my mouth is a huge and sudden change in energy, similar to a jolt of power. While taking in air. Maybe it's an instinctual lizard brain thing that determines the outcome, like how being hungry can shorten people's temper?

Just spitballing really.

From what I can tell there are some vague, but essential rules that govern how magic works.

1. You need energy, gathered from the caster to form the basis of the magic.

2. A spark to set it off, a catalyst of sorts to act as the trigger for the spell like you would in a chemical reaction.

There are some details that I've managed to piece together, with some left in a weird gray area like, do I need an oxygen substitute? Cus you need all three in order to have fire, the extra material that oxygen and other gasses provide to maintain the chain reaction. Then there's also temperature, but I don't imagine there would be anything preventing someone from conjuring a spell. The role that I, as the caster appears to play in this magical formula seems to be that of a mystical instigator. Borrowing the electrical spark in my body, I imagine that you wouldn't -. I don't think the body had enough energy for a bolt of lightning, but I clearly can do so despite it. . . So maybe my magical strength is directly proportional to the amount of 'Mana' I can draw upon from the environment around me to fuel my magic, so that casters don't implode by solely using their own reserves.

I can't see the molecules, or electrons wiggling around me so I. . .

I'm not sure.

I have no words that could possibly explain any of this sufficiently, every answer I manage to make out introduces three more questions. Before coming here, I thought that having a clear mind would be the only thing nessaracy to cast a spell. So many other shows or books make your intention matter so much, but that logic doesn't quite line up here.

Magic is so much more, raw? Whatever it is that I'm doing, be it magic or not. It's pure and unadulterated, no runes or mystical key words necessary.

When I run out though, the point when there's no more 'mana' or whatever bullshit to pull from. There's this lone feeling, not quite hunger, but close to the satisfaction that satiating it brings. Or maybe the opposite in this case? Not quite the strength that lives in my limbs powering my physical actions, or the focus that breathes life into the thoughts that reside within my mind. I can't place it, because the sensation resides nowhere in my body or in a place that I could compare it to.

You'd think I'd at least feel it as it left my body as it went through my hands, but I don't feel anything!

No clenching or pulsing within my skull as some sort of stress build from summoning a FUCKING LIGHTNING BOLT. I don't feel fuzzy, there is no static pulling on the tips of my hair, or a churning in my chest, but it's there! Whenever that magical sensation passes through me, I just. . . I- Everytime I go through the motions, it feels as if there's just a little bit less of it to remind me of it. Of how to do it. I can still do things, still think, but it still feels like I'm out of breath, stuck unable to cast even without needing to breathe to do magic in the first place. There's just this line!

But I know there's something there. I know how to do it, I'm certain of it, as much as you can be.

It's just. . .

I don't know.

Think of how you can take active control of your own breathing when something or someone makes your brain remember that fact, but when you cast fire or lightning beyond a certain point the inverse happens. After tossing a few fireballs I can't find it again, that awareness, or grip on reality for lack of a better word just slips through my fingers.

I-

Maybe it's for the best.

Call it a sign of my sanity that I'm not capable of giving out fireballs like I'm Oprah.

On second thought, it's definitely a good thing that such a limit is in place. I don't know if this. . reality? has Harry Potter esk wands, something like that is just going to make everything so much more complicated. Wait-, am- am I the only person with magic here? I don't know if that make my situation better or worse. . .

I'm just not going to open that can of worms.

. . .

clop clop clop clop clop clop Clop Clop Clop Clop Clop Clop

I half scrambled to take off my headphones, and as much as I don't care for my health, dying to a bunch of wolves or something isn't exactly appealing. Once free of them my ears picked up the increasingly loud rhythmic clacking of hooves behind me. A horse drawn cart, or that's what it appears to be at least when I turned around to look, and moved from the middle to the side of the road. There was a man and his family, he was driving the cart whilst his family sat behind with various bags next to them. Holding a thumb up for them to see as the cart slowed to keep pace with me, a young boy peered over the edge to stare at me, and I waved to him before turning to who I suspected to be his father.

I wonder if they had hitchhikers in Medieval Europe.


Notes and all that jazz: I'm gonna try tracking exp now, I'm not really using a specific difficulty for the xp modifier but this is the formula I'm using for now. I found a random number generator website that I really like so I'm moving to rolling individual stats instead of grouping it all together.

Levels 1–21: 100 × [1.1 ^ (Player's level − 1)] (Unaltered, standard level caps that you get in game)

Fight Exp = (Kill bonus) * (Enemy level/Unit level) * ((Attacker's Damage - Target's defense or resilience) * boss bonus)) Boss bonus is 2 if the enemy is a boss or in a monster class, 1 otherwise. If the attack is a killing blow, multiply exp by 1.5.

I'm guestamating the class/ability exp until I can figure out something better.

I totally forgot about personal abilities, fuck, those are in 3 houses aren't they. Uhhhh, fuck it. Conscript - Grants Str/Res +4 whilst wielding a mundane weapon, and Mag/Def +4 whilst wielding a magical weapon. (Note: Doesn't activate if wielding a broken blade or depleted tome. You may notice its similarities to Constance's, you'd be right, the only reason that it's +4 and not +3, it's to resemble the rally skills more to compensate for the additional condition in order to be in effect.) That should be fun to remember to keep track of when I write my next fight scene.

I should mention the whole ability business shouldn't I? I was hoping to put it off for a few more chapters.

Let me clarify something that won't ever be known/confirmed in the actual story, it's like a metadata about promotions/Seals. For Folden at least, they exist as lesser forms of chest stones, created by the Argathenians to get a fighting edge against the Nabateans. Prototype artificial chest stones if you will. Humans just aren't built to handle the same amount of power so this supplements to fill that gap(I think it fits the Argathen theme of magitech). Trying to use a skill that you neither have the corresponding mastery of, or seal, results in exhaustion going so far as to experience damage like one would from a relic weapon. The ability literally tears the host apart whilst trying to complete the task. (Assuming you don't like, pass out)

Seals don't stop you from benefiting from the growth rates that armor or practicing magic regularly would, but what they actually do is shortcut the path toward specific skills. Turning a years long process into a months long one. They are made by inscribing runes that push the body to unlocking abilities, thus allowing you 'master' them and use them even after you change classes. (Think of them like magic usb sticks that you can plug into your body to run certain software, or abilities) This also justifies abilities you can't inherit, as you need those specific runes to give you that extra ompf to maintain the effects. (Go back to my tech comparison, you can still try to use those abilities you don't technically have access to, you would just overheat from the workload)

The exam thing is just a quality control thing instituted by general consensus for the military/academies of Folden, you can use Seals at any time but the issue is that you are limited to your most likely class. (or one that you body would deem the least 'destabilizing') As such the level limits of when you can take these classes are more close to a set of guidelines that militaries abide by to get the most bang(effectiveness) out of their buck(soldiers). The exam is a way to guarantee the recipient gets the desired class, instead of auto selecting. However, going against the bodies natural inclinations adds stress to the body, an additional reason behind why the level caps for exams are at the point they are. (to avoid the worst of the growing pains and all that)

That brings us to the starter classes, I made some changes to make them more distinct. (Namely no -5% res and giving monk +5% mag, negative stat growths will come later)

Myrmidon + HP: (5%) Str: (0%) Mag: (0%) Dex: (0%) Spd: (5%) Lck: (0%) Def: (5%) Res: (0%) Cha: (5%)

Soldier + HP: (5%) Str: (0%) Mag: (0%) Dex: (5%) Spd: (0%) Lck: (0%) Def: (5%) Res: (0%) Cha: (5%)

Fighter + HP: (5%) Str: (5%) Mag: (0%) Dex: (0%) Spd: (0%) Lck: (0%) Def: (5%) Res: (0%) Cha: (5%)

Monk + HP: (5%) Str: (0%) Mag: (5%) Dex: (0%) Spd: (0%) Lck: (5%) Def: (0%) Res: (5%) Cha: (0%)

So from lv 4 onwards, and with no other class in mind, I set up a random number thing with all relevant stats to determine my starter class. Turned them into percentages based on their signature stats (strength .208 Fighter, magic .34 Monk, dex .17 Soldier, speed .283 Myrmidon), and spun a wheel. I went with getting 1, removes it from the running, just to make it fun. Fighter lost first, Myrmidon second, and Monk third. So as you likely already know, the class I ended up with is soldier. Really wanted that +2 Magic, but that's just how the cookie crumbles I guess.

HP: (45%) | Mv: 4

Str: (35%) | Lck: (50%)

Mag: (65%) | Def: (35%)

Dex: (40%) | Res: (50%)

Spd: (55%) | Cha: (15%)

Wanted to put more into this chapter but I'm already like a week late. Really should make a main stat page or something to keep track of all this shit.