Mortality: Prologue, Chapter 1

When did I fall asleep...?

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0.0 Optimised

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          It starts with a stumble. A man tripping into being in a place he does not recognize, wobbling as if he had just moved 40 miles mid-blink. He takes a breath and slowly reaches up for his face, first checking his hand, then bringing it in to brush his bangs and run it down his hair's length halfway down his chest. "People usually jolt out of dreams, not into them. When did I fall asleep?" His mind was a blank beyond this exact moment but it was enough to admire this dreamscape he'd somehow wandered into. It was a site like an outdoor shrine with a circular stone platform, 10 stone columns lining the furthest half of its perimeter. In front of each column was a three foot pedestal, and on each pedestal a glowing orb. There seemed to be something uncanny in this dream-a lucidity to its unreality. He was sure he was breathing but he was unsure he could actually feel air. The stonework under his feet seemed to have a nebulous shifting texture as if it was some concrete poured out of clouds. In the horizons around he could catch the outlines of mountains where they blacked out a night sky so densely packed with stars their twinkling seemed to be the only light source in this dim place, as there was no moon and he could yet see.

          But such things tended to not chalk up right in dreams anyway. As he looked up at the stars a grand shadow seemed to cast over them such as the mountains did, a wave of their flickering lights blotted out by some impossibly large silhouette as indistinct as it was swift.
          "Welcome, oh hapless soul, to the threshold of your new wretched existence," a voice booms and whispers at once, its tone dripping with sardonic delight. The man looked around trying to focus on where the voice might be echoing off of but came up as inconclusive as if the entire atmosphere had simply vibrated to create the effect. "Before you lies the path to Misterra, a land that will test your mettle and sanity. You are offered a singular boon-a divine gift-to ease your landing. Choose wisely or suffer amusingly; for the spectrum of your torment may be vast and varied. "


          The man thrusts his arm into the air with a thumbs-down gesture at the sky and blows an obnoxious raspberry. "Pain is inevitable, suffering is optional. Save the wretched existence spiel for the wretches." As he lifted his arm he realises it is not as he feels like it's supposed to be and he finally takes a good look at himself. His muscles were firm and honed, his sedentary gut receded. He drops into a squat and quickly thrusts himself back up. He moves his arms in great circles and does a few forward lunges to test his range of motion. He could feel the flexion in his muscles and the pulling in his tendons. A concern starts to grow in him and for the final test he looks at his arm where he is tattooed. In past dreams he was never able to read or focus on particular details to the point the whole dream would unravel if he so much as tried to read a text message. His stomach dropped to realise his tattoos here were perfectly legible. He checked one after the other, lifting an unfamiliar shirt he was sure was not his own to check the rest as well as his fitness.
          "Fuck. What even is this? Where is here and how do I look like this?" His hair was as long and thick as it had been when he was in his teens and his body was strong in a way that he had not been for over ten years.


          A chuckle from the universe again. "You are in a realm beyond time. A place beyond matter, a place beyond dreams." The confused man was trying to figure out if the voice was more masculine or feminine and besides being omnipresent it also didn't seem to be either of those. "As for your appearance I suppose I should correct myself about having only one boon. In further fairness and sportsmanship you have been restored to your established top form...Your disabilities fixed, your youth renewed, but your experience kept."


          Although he was 35 years old he definitely seemed to be in the body of his 25 year old self...No, make that 23? His tattoos were up to date however and his hair had been short at this time in his life. Checking the loose fit of the plain brown clothes he was in he tries a few stance transitions and kicks. His muscle memory seemed to be working according to his elder self as well, his entirety a patchwork. "It's like pieces of me from different points of time were all stitched together to create a new self. Like I've been...Optimised?" the man muttered. This defied possibility in anything but a dream but his senses all vouched too keenly for comfort. "So...That's me I guess. Who are you supposed to be? God?"
          "I am the Watcher. I am the Frame. I am the System." the voice echoed with an ominous but authoritative tone and the man started to think he could feel the wry smile behind their speech and their invisible eyes on him as one does when being stalked. "Your observer, your guide, your narrator."
The man starts to stroll along from pedestal to pedestal as the disembodied words keep up their unusual triplicates. He leans in close to a seemingly glass orb, glowing a pale jade green where under his reflection a blur of animalistic features tracked inside. He thought he could hear their cries, roars and trumpets. "So we have a who and a where. More importantly I suppose...Why am I here? Besides being so fabulous and desirable."


          The System's voice grows playful as the man question its motives. "Ah, your self adoration is both endearing and a tad overblown, but I digress. You are here, in the Realm Beyond Time, to be granted the gift of power and sent forth into Misterra. As for the reason behind your existence in this world... Well, that's a tale woven by the fates themselves. You are a figure to shake the very foundations of the land. Your story, like all great ones, is waiting to be written...If you survive." The System's tone turns grandiose, inviting him to embrace his newfound destiny but there was definitely a hint of sneer on the point of survival. "Why you specifically? Only the gods know. Now it is time for you to choose your power. The orb before you currently is Shapeshifting."


          Shrugging off the melodramatic speech and dismissing this as a particularly interesting delusion the man decides to play along. He did enjoy the prospect of physical mutability offered by the Shapeshifting orb but he makes his way to the next pedestal. One to the next the System announces the available choices: Shapeshifting, Time manipulation, Item creation, Healing factor, Monster taming, Elemental mastery, True Necromancy, Invulnerability, Super strength, and Teleportation. Stopping at Invulnerability the man takes on a suspicious expression and tone. "What kind of drawbacks do these powers have? There's no way you're just offering total invulnerability when Healing is one of the other options."


          When System speaks, the sense gleamed from their voice seems they are pleased by the questions. "Indeed, even the most potent power in Misterra is not without its flaws. With Invulnerability, you'll gain an incredible resistance to all forms of harm, rendering you nearly immune to physical and magical attacks. However this invincibility comes with a heavy price. Your connection to the mortal realm will weaken as your body struggles to contain such a powerful force. This can lead to severe side effects such as disorientation, weakness, and even hallucinations making it difficult for you to maintain your senses and make sound decisions in times of need. You will always be one step apart from the physical world that would harm you, and over time your mind will reflect this."
The man whistles. He hadn't been planning on taking that orb anyway; his choice was made as soon as he'd laid eyes on one of the others before the System could even announce its power. He backtracks to a coppery sphere which rang faintly with the sound of a hammer on metal, the smell of fresh cut lumber and burning coals surrounding it. "The power is called Invulnerability but you said almost invulnerable. Anything else I should know?"


          The sensation of a cosmic, sagely nod. "All of these powers will scale on a level system of 1 to 10 as you grow, their full potential is not unlocked except through rigorous use. With Invulnerability the user would not become truly untouchable until they had been subjected to enough to develop the power. In the case of Item Creation, the complexity and mass you can create will be throttled by your own stamina and experience. More difficult constructs will not be immediately possible until you make contact with certain elements and the amount you create will directly drain your energy. As you level this power your energy reserves for creation will deepen and the drawbacks less dire." The so-called System had forgone any hint of teasing in their voice for this explanation and it seemed they had accidentally allowed themselves to enjoy giving the academic lecture.
          The man rolls his shoulders and takes a deep breath holding up both hands ready to grasp the orb of power and as he hovers over its surface he notices a forge-like heat coming off of it.
"You're sure this is where you leave your fate?" System reverts back to their taunts, asking in such a way as an adult would ask a child to make them second guess.


          The man is not swayed. He doesn't remember how he got here, or if this is temporary or real or what it all means. The fact remains that this is where he is and what he is experiencing and whatever the outcome there was no point wasting time on overthinking. "Haven't you heard, peanut gallery? There's no fate but what we make for ourselves!" Whatever this bode for him he supposed he'd just have to see it through and despite the apparent risk of burning his hands he commits to grabbing the orb.

          On contact his vision seems to break down and sift away like a tide of coloured and glittering sand as the disorientation he'd felt minutes ago waking up took over him once more. When his eyesight reconstitutes he blinks furiously, a modest morning sun blindingly bright compared to the twilight realm he'd just emerged from. His eyes are locked on to a rustic village like something out of a medieval fantasy, wood and plaster buildings with thatch or clay tile roofing, a dirt road with dust kicked up by the passage of travellers on foot, horse and cart. All around him was a thrum of sounds in an exotic language and he remained still and staring ahead while his body and mind struggled to process what happened. The wave of voices around him slowly seemed to focus into something legible as though his body was acclimating to this new universe.

"Der neiar cu thog..."                               "...Mister..."
                   "Faen lysh regat?" "Grant bhet harvest..."
                                                                     "I heard a sholl thraem kat...""...hey mister?"
         "Failte kren...this year."
                                                 "Are you alright Mister?"

          With the foreign language tuning itself into something comprehensible-Or was he the one being tuned?-He snaps to suddenly as if one of the voices was suddenly right in his ear and he realises it was a couple who had been talking to him, faces plastered with concern. He was standing to the side of an in-road to the ungated village in the same barebones outfit he had been garbed in when he woke up between worlds. The middle aged man and woman who regarded him were wearing rugged clothes and the husband had some cargo roped to his back. "You look like you've had a poor journey, and for a moment there it seemed you were quite lost in yourself."
          The man who had been pushed through the System tried to smile reassuringly. "Oh, yes I suppose you could say that, but I'll make due. Thanks for your concern."

          The woman regards his lack of shoes and featureless garb. He had long black hair, dark brown eyes and pale skin except for the coloured tattoos on his arm and a black script band around his neck. Broad shoulders and with a strong posture once he remembered himself and uprighted to acknowledge them. "You're not from anywhere around here, huh? What's your name?" asked the wife with a curious cock of the chin and the man from beyond time, beyond matter, beyond dreams inclines his head to the sky and thinks for a moment.
          "Call me Kire."

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1. Village of new beginnings

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          Having reassured the locals he was not out of his mind or physically unwell he asks about the town. The fact that he did not seem to know about the place he had arrived at troubled them anew but he eventually managed to coax it out that the village was called Thornwick, an intersection of trade in the south of the Falkner Kingdom. Although quite rural and by all rights out in the boonies it was near enough to the Ironspike mountains in the west where dwelt a Dwarven Kingdom and with a road south leading to the country's border two days ride away that it could serve as an economic crossroads for trade. It was settled in a long strip of valley between the forest and mountains that was mostly filled with farm land along with a number of lesser hamlets and settlements dotted across the fields and hills in the space between the two natural wonders. Thornwick was the centre where farmers brought their crops to be moved north to the cities, merchants went west for trade or prospecting in the mountains, and where other amenities could be found such as taverns, a chapel, shops and a branch of the Adventurer's Guild. A wide river that came down from the mountains cut across from the north and ran down the eastern edge of the town and just on the other side of the river was the imposing and ancient Eldergrove forest.

          Kire's head was still so overloaded with taking it all in, wanting to see all the sights and to try out his creation power that he didn't even know where to begin. Since he also didn't know how or when he got to be in this body things like 'When did I sleep?' and 'When did I last eat?' were also nagging questions that presented material problems he would need to get ahead of.
          *You might start by enlisting at the Adventurer's Guild,* the voice of System tickled at the back of his neck. He shrieks and flails his arms as he spins around but there is no one there save a mortified passing citizen who clutches their chest wide-eyed, hurrying off not wanting to find out what his issue is.
          "Where are you now? In my head?!" he continues to crane his head this way and that, talking to the air like a crazy person. A laugh from nowhere in particular.
          *Yes, and subject to your every mediocre thought. Lunatic with amnesia is quite an opening act for selling first impressions around here.* A nearby child was shielded by their parents from looking at Kire and hurried off with a condescending whisper.
          "Hardy har har. Not that I need to worry what these game show actors think of me but I suppose I don't need to talk for you to hear me then."( Although I just might anyway. Because fuck you, that's why.)

          Composing himself he continues his trek down the main road leading in to town until he reaches a square, four other roads branching out in what he felt must be northeast, northwest, southeast, and southwest for a total of 5 arteries including the southbound one he stood on. On the north facing was a church, and in the centre of the square was a not-too-extravagant fountain. The road had become cobbled shortly after crossing the proverbial threshold into town and the buildings had gotten taller the deeper he wandered. At this junction it was shaded by buildings two and three stories tall all around, not wholly matching the church in stature but effectively filling out the place in a way that give it an almost proper city feel. The architecture was of a consistent period and make throughout and though he'd passed the tavern just two buildings back from the main square he had to agree that he would need to figure out some finances first.

          "Alright wise guy, which way to the Guild?" he grumbled under his breath low enough not to bother the rest of decent society this time.
          *I'm not going to babysit you over every trivial detail. Surely you can figure out at least that much? Perhaps I overestimated you if you cannot even handle asking directions like a normal person.*
          Kire rolled his eyes and decided on the northwest road, following his intuition until he found someone, besides a shop or stall, who looked like they wouldn't need him to spend money to talk to him. He drifts over to a man and his teenage son who were carting chopped wood up the road and hams up his greeting. "Excusez-moi, I am as you can see a filthy vagrant unfamiliar with the area. Could you perhaps tell me where the Adventurer's Guild is so I can make some money or die trying?"

          The pair made a series of faces, looking back and forth between the drifter and each other. "Queer manner of speech sir, but if you think you can handle it, just up and to the next right. Can't miss it, and though yeh don't seem especially dirty or starved ye'll want to buy yerself some footwear at the first opportunity."
          Kire makes a dramatic sweeping bow. "Appreciate it. You have yourselves a blessed day."
          (Why am I worried about buying shoes? I can just create stuff, right?) He follows the directions and when he turns the corner he stops as suddenly as if he'd hit his head off a wall. The presence of the guild hall had been perhaps understated and dwarfed anything else he had seen in Thornwick thus far. The road widened in front of it to allow for carriage parking on the road opposite and the structure itself was both tall and broad, carved from great stone blocks. (Alright so there's that. Now to find myself some privacy so I can work on my appearance. Thanks for the shitty threads, by the way.) He directed this at System and he thought he felt a shrug of sorts...over? Beside? Inside? Somewhere, a shrug.
          *I would counter that I could have left you naked but being in your head I know you lack the shame to care.*

          With an internalized harrumph Kire continued his walk checking for alleyways, picking one at random to end up in a cramped courtyard between the backs of two shops on adjacent streets. (Alright, guess you're too good to tell me how this power works too huh?) He doesn't wait for an answer and tries to think of what to make. Shoes...Nah. He remembers his army boots from his own world, durable but super comfortable and hands down the best footwear he'd ever owned. He holds out his hands thinking this must be like casting a spell and finds it does actually help when glowing lines create a bounded space visible only in his own eyes. Instinctively like a bird flying south for winter he exerts, a squeezing in his chest as if he'd always known how to do it. Recalling his boots seems to bring up a blueprint in his mind's eye and without further thought or trying a slow, simmering blue edge like burning paper crawls through the air with the smell of leather. It curves, folds on itself and accelerates leaving a thick black textured material behind. In seconds a perfect recreation of his old boots are suspended in the air and drop as his power abates on completion.
          *Looks like you figured it out just fine. Not totally hopeless, perhaps.*
          Kire gingerly reaches out for the boots and inspects them. They feel...More personal than the original pair ever had. The sentimentality he had for them for the time they carried him in service was now tinged with a more personal connection...As if his hallmark was inherently present in them. "Right. Should do socks too."

          The doors of the Adventurer's Guild are thrust open and with an overflow of swagger a young man power-walks in, bolting for the reception with a speed so purposeful he had been often told it was off-putting. The Guild Hall was stone walls throughout but smooth tiles on the floors and a wooden flight of stairs to an open second story where he could somewhat get an angle on office doors. The back left corner also had a lounge recessed under the balcony level with wooden flooring and a large fireplace. There was three booths at reception, each finely wood worked such that they wouldn't seem out of place in a fancy bank. One was empty, one was occupied and serving a client, and the final one available staffed by an Orc who waved the newcomer over. As Kire approached he slowed down as he was forced to deal with another wholly new element: Fantasy races. As much as Kire had tried not to let it his mental back flip show the expression on the Orc's face was one of someone who was used to passive discrimination and had picked up on how he was being looked at.
          "Haven't seen you before, are you an affiliate from another branch?"

          Kire's gaze lingered a little too long and serious taking in the rough features of the man before he managed to reply. "Oh! No, wholly new and looking to join actually. I find myself rather in need of work and resources, ones of learning especially."
          The Orc sighed and lowered his head. "Well you could learn to reign in your mortification. Yes, they employ an Orc here. I know it's tough but you'll have to deal with your prejudice if you want to deal with the Guild."
          Kire cringed. He had been misunderstood but he wasn't sure the actual explanation would have been any more comfort. "Ohh! No it's not like that! I'm sorry, just where I come from...We don't have different people like you. Humans of different skin colours, but only humans just the same. I didn't mean to be rude this is just an unexpected and fascinating first for me. Full disclosure I will probably stare quite a lot as a result."

          Now the Orc groaned, but his expression softened. The stranger seemed pretty sincere even if it was still bothersome. Kire felt more attention on himself and slowly turns to his right to just now connect that the adventurer at the booth beside him was an Elf, giving Kire a look that seemed undecided between puzzlement or disgust. Kire stares like a tourist seeing a natural wonder for the first time.
          The elf settled on disgust and turns away quickly to continue their business with their own teller and the Orc knocks on his counter top. "If you're done harassing our contractors...You said you want to join up? I have some paperwork for you. Are you literate or do you need assistance?"
          Kire was almost offended at the question but considering what he'd seen of the town and gleamed of the surrounding area that was probably a common factor that needed handling. Whatever the state of public education might be around here at least the Guild seemed ready to accommodate such a handicap. "I can read and write...I think. I mean I can apparently speak the language but not sure what it'll look like when it comes to writing it." Kire beamed his best salesman smile with two thumbs up.
          The Orc pursed his lips, closed his eyes, took a deep inhale and let it out in a great sigh. "Alright. Whatever. Here's the forms, there is a table with quill and inkwell on either side of these booths."


          Kire took the forms that only consisted of two pages and leafs between them to get a feel for the questions and just as he had been fixed to understand the local speech the words all read to him as if they were English. Basic information; Name, age, race, skills, medical problems, next of kin. He carefully uncaps the inkwell and picks up a quill, starting with only the smallest amounts to try and get a feel for it. As before when he fired up his power an instinct seems to take over and he writes as easily as he would a ball-point pen...Not to say it did his usual standard of penmanship any favours. After struggling for some time on the hard questions like Name and Skills he rolls through the easy stuff like Medical History and Family...Since he had neither here. The toughest question was his age and since he was biologically unreliable but mentally middle aged he just settled on his estimation of 23 to avoid any possible questions about his skincare routine. After waiting for another adventurer who had queued up to the stall he finally approaches with the completed sheets, held apart while the ink dried.

          "That....Took you a while. You're sure you're able to scribe?" the orc asked but took the forms and gave a reluctant nod. "Whoever taught you penmanship should have their hands smacked with a wooden spoon but it's legible and valid. Sir...How do you pronounce this?" The paper was turned around with his finger resting under the name.
          "Kee-ray. And what's your name by the way?"
          Now the Orc seemed a little caught off-guard that the first timer was trying to be so familiar. "Arune. Your work will be handled by whoever is available at any given time though so you won't necessarily be dealing with me often. You really are the odd man out, aren't you?" The weathered Orc squinted at the second page full of blank spaces and N/A's.
          Kire shrugged. "It's an uncomplicated life."
          Arune withdrew a stamp from under the counter, grinding it into an inkpad and stamping the registration. He pulls out a card and a quill and his hand is like feathered lightning as he scrawls the relevant information onto it, signing himself as witness and clamping it into an embossing tool. "With this line of work?" he presents the card to the strange drifter. "It won't be for much longer."

          The quest board is an eight foot wide by four foot tall frame with a thick cork pad filling its surface area. Many notices are posted across its breadth and depth and the first poster Kire's eyes land on reads 'Possible Bansidhe sighting' with a 4 star threat rating...whatever that means. He skims more of the board which seems to be posted left to right in escalating difficulty and he tries to find something where he can safely stretch his legs without being too bored. (Missing pet? Lame. Missing child? Eugh...Help repairing a fence, security for caravans...That one doesn't sound too bad but maybe not for a first job. Aha! Exterminate Giant Rats in the granary.) He leans in the job posting and scans the details: (Hostile Giant Rats have settled in the granary resulting in a major risk to the food supply. Milled flour and other foodstuffs are packed and stored throughout the year as a winter reserve and became inaccessible...I don't know what that date is-)
          *About a week ago. You'll have to look at a calendar eventually.*
          (AHEM, about a week ago, and the town council requests its clearance before contamination or consumption of all goods in the warehouse. 1 star rating and I get to swing a weapon, sounds like a good enough primer to me.)
          At his conclusion System continues their criticism. *Such a brave adventurer rushing off to slay hapless little rodents! The future is secure under your dutiful watch.*

          Kire pays them no attention as he turns in the job number to Arune to draft the contract who seems to regard it with some relief. "Ah yes, council hoped this one would be dealt with swiftly but seems most of our regulars consider it beneath them. Nobody wants to waste their time on it so they wait for someone else to do it, and with everyone having that mentality nobody does it. Could turn out to be a real hazard for the town when the temperatures drop in a few months."
          System had projected a smug sensation at the menial attitude given the task by other adventurers but as Arune continued Kire was the one blowing another mental raspberry at System. Arune passed Kire a job ticket. "Good luck on your first job, look forward to hearing how it goes."
          With the ticket stowed in his pocket Kire flexes. "Oh, you'll know how it goes, when they sing of my valorous exploits from every rooftop! 'Hear ye, hear ye! Handsome stranger defeats rats, a tale for the ages!'" He strikes a heroic pose imitating a sword held aloft and Arune winces, his customer service stoicism failing him in the face of such absurdity.

          Following the directions to the warehouse Kire finds it near the river on the north end of town. Besides a small paved clearing in front of it where wagons could load and unload freight it wasn't particularly set apart from the rest of the neighbourhood, surrounded by houses with only the extra length of the building and its silo making it stand out. The large stone structure also had a wooden shack attached to one side to house the groundskeeper but they had vacated until the pests were dealt with. Along the way Kire had cut through an alley again to arm himself by sparking up his Item creation power and envisioning a short, thick blade. The blue creeping flame edge was accompanied by glowing orange sparks this time as if a real billet was being hammered until he held a falchion, styled after the historical Conyers but with his own cross guard elements. Its vorpal chopping blade was single fullered and he capped its wire wrapped hilt with a ring pommel to suit his style. A pair of thick leather bracers plus a fairly plain scabbard later and he was ready for rat combat.

          Standing up on his toes looking in the window he cranes his head side to side trying to breach the glare on the pane and adjust his eyes to the interior, unlit except by the escalating noon sun coming through the windows. He catches movement on some crates...There's rat number one. Something runs along a wall at the back. Two rats, at least. His eyes finally manage to settle on the first rat enough to see it was currently eating out of a torn burlap bag, a bloated sagging gut reminding him of a squirrel who'd emptied a whole bird feeder. "Excellent. At least two rats, fat and slow off their ill-gotten gains. Easy pickings." There was a fair bit of damage to the boxes and bags he could see, the pests must have been eating a ton in their time there. Hyping himself up he makes for the front entrance drawing his sword and shaking his arms loose. With a deep controlled breath he lifts his foot and kicks in the door at the handle letting his forward momentum carry him through to stand in the threshold as the door blows wide open with a great crack. "FREEZE, ASSHOLES! THIS IS A RAID! PUT YOUR PAWS AND WHISKERS UP WHERE I CAN SEE THEM!"

          The rats startle with a rough, scratchy squeal and turn to the interloper. With eyes on the two rats he had seen from the window the light seems to catch on something in the corner...Another pair of beady eyes. Then another. Then another. Several rats who had been digging into a crate just under the window he had been peeking through now emerge along with a dozen others from various nooks and corners of the room.
          "Oh, fu-!" he lunges backwards and tries to pull the door shut with him in almost perfect sync with the rats charging forth but thanks to his 'heroic' breach the latch didn't take and he immediately legged off to circle the building. He sees a stack of crates and thinks quickly, vaulting up them until he was high enough to reach for the roof's edge. The granary door thumps, rattles and dislodges with the weight of eighteen rats the size of Labradors.

          Kire sheaths his sword and hooks his feet on the edge of the tallest box where he stood while gripping the eaves trough. Crouching and tensing his leg muscles to try and kick the crate over as he jumps for the roof he actually manages to tip the box off to deny the rats the extra reach to where he was taking refuge. He was grateful this was one of the buildings with a sturdy tile roof and when he kicks off the top crate he swings his legs up to the side to wrap onto the trough and pull himself up. With the rats swarming after him they were able to get on the first level of crates which only bought them three feet of clearance to the ten foot roof. Their week long glut had robbed most of them of the jumping ability to make it the rest of the way but they seemed to be capable of some planning as they piled on top of each other to make a living rat siege tower in pursuit the human who had threatened them.

          Kire was trying to cook up a next move and though he did manage to scrape together a plan it seemed desperate enough to still count as panicking. Clasping his hands he fires up his item creation power again as he quickly and crudely designs a black powder bomb in his mind's eye. Little more than a pouch of volatile materials with a short fuse and striker he forces it into the real and looks over the edge of the roof with a startle to see the rats approaching. Clicking the striker on his archaic grenade the fuse flawlessly takes to the spark and he drops the bomb directly into the mountain of stacked vermin, throwing himself prone onto the roof with some distance from the edge while covering his ears and forcibly emptying his lungs through his mouth.

          Thornwick had never experienced such strange weather where the thunder was ground level and the rain was gory bits of singed rat. The bomb thunders through the streets and echoes off the nearby houses, blowing out all the nearby windows and sending the outer edge of the roof tiles skyward as shrapnel. The rats hadn't even had time for last squeaks before the bulk of their number were shredded in the blast with some only surviving at all because their clustered neighbours soaked up enough of the shock wave. Rolling over and getting back on his feet Kire uneasily approaches the edge again to see the damage. Most of the crates were levelled and every window in the block was dusted but the building itself was heavy stone with thick mortar and repelled the blast outwards in the path of least resistance. He noticed the surviving rats trying to scrabble away and he hangs off the roof to give chase, dropping into a roll and springing up with sword in hand once more. "FIGHT ME YOU FUZZY COWAAAARDS!"

          Alarms had taken up ringing throughout the town on account of the blast and the nearest citizens emerged from their homes armed with whatever tools they could find to see what disaster had befallen them. The first thing they see is a screaming man brandishing a sword. Then they lock in on the few rats trying to flee, coming together with shovels and pitchforks to cut off any routes of escape and drive the vermin back. As more people came down the path to join the cordon the largest rat of the bunch turned to Kire with a hiss, hatred glowing in its eyes with the reflection of the dying flames that ended its colony's reign. It charges the insolent and terrible human but Kire manages to catch its teeth on his sword and counters with a good kick to the little bastard's grain-engorged gut. The kick catches it off guard and it recoils with a shriek, snapping its teeth and circling to find its opportunity for another go.

          As the rest of the rats are rounded up and finished off by the encircling mob Kire points in challenge at the 'boss rat'. "Every good nemesis needs a name. I shall dub thee...Ratticus Finch!" Levelling his sword and taking the initiative he lunges left to right as he advances, weaving to throw off the timing of his strike. The rat was completely unprotected and one good blow would be fatal but seemingly incensed further by the mocking name it had become whipped into a frenzy, leaping and flailing to dodge the deathblow with an agility that belied its girth. They continue to circle each other in a dance of flashing steel and feinting claw. With the rest of the rats slain the audience cheer, boo, and call out for the timeless struggle of man versus beast until Ratticus Finch gives a great lunge that only leaves Kire in a position to throw up his right arm and take the attack while his sword arm was wound back. Its enormous teeth manage to penetrate even the thick boiled leather bracer but only just barely coming through the other side of the material wrapping Kire's arm while hardly more than nicking it. Meanwhile its jaw seemed to get stuck and as gravity reasserted itself it dragged Kire's arm down when it plunked back to earth thrashing and hissing, threatening to pull him off balance.

          Now physically bound to his mortal enemy in a contest of strength it is a simple matter for Kire to thrust his sword forward through the rat's chest. Its eyes roll back into its head and blood froths from its mouth with a gurgle. Retracting his sword Kire uses its edge to pry the teeth from his bracer to let the twitching body slump backwards.
          "Requesciat In Pace, my most terrible of foes." As the assemblage who had watched the unnecessarily dramatic and unconventional duel unfold erupt into cheers having been caught up by the action Kire sees one of the crates pushed against the warehouse still intact. With a running start he vaults off of it hooking the rooftop and pulling himself up once more. Striking a heroic pose and holding his sword aloft he called out over the town with a cocky, shit-eating grin: "Hear ye, hear ye! Handsome stranger defeats rats, a tale for the ages!" He lets out a too-pleased-with-himself cackle; Ain't no prophecy like a self-fulfilling prophecy.

          When he descends from the rooftop once more most of the crowd has either dispersed or begun cleanup, and some of the locals whose homes were affected by the blast were having an animated discussion with a man of uncommonly regal bearing. Roughly in his fourties with salt and pepper hair and a well trimmed beard he wore a half-plate set of armour from under which a white and blue tabard could be seen. Curiosity tugged at Kire's sleeve and with the obvious collateral damage from his weapon he figured he already knew what the discussion was about.
          *I have to admit that was a more entertaining quest than I thought it would be.*
          (I told you so, bitch I'm fabulous. Now shush and let daddy smooth things over.)
          Could gods and their proxies be shocked into silence? The audacity of this outlander beggared belief and System was successfully banished to the back of his mind if only to save themselves from having whatever a stroke looks like on an incorporeal concept. On approach with the remaining gaggle the only word he needed to hear once in earshot was 'windows' but it seemed the more established gentleman was already negotiating reparations. Still, Kire couldn't let someone else do his talking for him.
          "Sorry for the disturbance folks, those damn rat terrorists set off a bomb, can you believe it?!" He thumbed behind him and looked over his shoulder at the pile of mangled corpses as if to say 'How could they have done such a thing?' "I think one of them was a suicide bomber."

          The man of knightly appearance pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head slightly but otherwise held up a hand to stop Kire's explanation. "It's alright, we've got it sorted out. That was some work you did...You have guts. Maybe not a good sense of self preservation, but guts." He takes a villagers hands in his own and whispers something with an apologetic bow of his head and they dismiss themselves. Turning to face Kire the man lifts his head and extends a hand. "I see someone finally took on the job. About time. You're new around here?"
          Kire took the proffered hand for a shake. "Yessir, call me Kire."
          "As you can call me Aldrich, chapter master of the Thornwick Adventurer's Guild."
          Kire's great grin and the twinkle in his eyes practically freeze-frame with a vinyl scratch. (My first quest and I blast the town in front of my new boss. Aweeesommme.)
          Aldrich sees him tense and laughs. "Don't worry, the damage isn't ideal but it's manageable. The guild will retainer a glass worker to cover repairs for the affected structures by way of thanks for your service. Walk with me?" he gestured to the short, wide carriage path back to the main road. Kire obliges.
          "What do you mean for thanks? Wasn't that one of the lowest possible jobs? Seems like you should be deducting my pay or something to cover it."

          Aldrich worked his jaw, looking up and squinting in the afternoon sun. "Well, the contract as you agreed to it may not accurately reflect the assignment you landed in. When the issue was posted it was, as you say, quite a minor thing. So minor nobody dealt with it. What we thought was a few rats very clearly turned out to be many more than we bargained for. See, the silo is an enormously important part of our survival come the cold months. Luckily we still have enough time ahead of the harvest to recover but if they have managed to compromise or destroy too much of its contents it will mean a lot of rationing for the people in the area this winter." As they walked quite a few passing villagers waved or made a point to greet Aldrich, occasionally passing him things like flowers or an apple the latter of which he in turn hands to Kire. "It's not a coincidence I was close at hand. It was precisely this concern that had me in the area to reassess and update the quest posting if necessary. Furthermore if the rats were able to establish themselves in those numbers who knows when they would have spread to other nearby buildings and infested the town?"

          Kire is starting to get the feeling that his taking that quest was one big happy accident...Or something like it. He also thinks he feels System's eyes on him again. He rips a great bite out of the apple he is handed and crunches it down aggressively, his first food in this new world. "Well happy to help...I suppose the guild considers the not-inexpensive collateral of all those not-inexpensive glass panes reasonably well balanced against the prospect of starvation and disease vectors."
          Aldrich pats him on the shoulder. "Exactly so. In fact the adjusted hazard level of the job would account for a larger payout." They were just coming up to the guild hall and another passing adventurer on their way out holds the door for them. Arune is busy with a client but notices Kire walking in with the guild master and jumps back in his seat with a mortified look of someone who can't believe a first job must have gone so wrong.
          Aldrich indicates for Kire to stay with him and they go to the open middle booth, stationed by an Elven woman. "Welcome back Guildmaster, how did the assessment go?"
          Kire played with his job ticket in his pocket, feeling Arune's judging eyes on him between the wooden bars separating booths hunched over in his receptacle to steal looks from in between where Aldrich stood and the Elven woman sat. Kire could just feel the 'What did you do?!' emanating from him.

          "Well I have good news and bad news Mis," Aldrich furrows his brow and unslings a document tube from his belt that he thumps into his hand. "The bad news is that the situation in fact escalated well beyond initial projections." the guildmaster seemed to catch on to his colleague in the adjacent cell trying to eavesdrop and with less than perfect subtlety had raised his voice for them to hear. "The granary was quite overtaken by rats and we must assume significant damage to the stored contents. The challenge rating is now two stars."
          The Elven woman raises a hand over her mouth with a light gasp at hearing the structure was overrun but quickly composes herself and prepares a quill to update the contract.

          "Now the good news is that the job has been completed. We need to send a specialist team to take full stock of the inventory and check for any nests, litters, waste and disease hazards but...The horde has been quelled." Aldrich holds a hand out to Kire palm-up and rubs his fingers together. Kire produces the job ticket which Aldrich takes and slides across the counter to the one he'd called Mis. "Given the disparity in quest given and quest found we'll have to increase the reward to 60 copper pieces."
          The woman's eyebrows escalate, her mouth hanging in a silent and questioning 'oh', while Arune gently slaps the top of his desk and slumps back in his chair exasperated. His client does not seem to know what to make of this.
          "While she processes this, I have an appointment to make with a glassblower. Good work out there today kid." Alrich claps a hand on Kire's shoulder once more and strides off towards the stairs.
          While Kire waited for the clerk to process the job ticket Arune pressed his face against the bars separating workstations and mouthed what Kire imagined was something like 'See me after class.'

--

          "What the hell was that?! Not twenty minutes after you leave to kill a giant rat everything shakes, the town's attack warning bells go off, and you come back chummy with the guild master? How big was the damn rat!?" Arune was trying to suppress his volume but his bewilderment threatened to tear it all out of him.
          Kire just smiles smugly. "That was probably just the heralds singing of my valorous exploits from the rooftops you heard, like I said they would." he pretends to nonchalantly dust his fingernails on his shirt and inspects them. "Are you trying to be my best friend? Kind of seems like you're trying to be my best friend."
          The Orc's mouth and opens and closes, trying and failing to find the words. He leans back again, pressing his hands to his cheeks as if trying to wake himself up. "You're insane."

          Kire just chuckles, "So? It's not wrong if it works." The uncanny adventurer then holds up the little leather purse with his copper pieces in it hunching over like a gremlin, petting it and speaking in a garbled creepy voice. "My preciousss...."
          Arune groans and waves him away. "Begone, foul creature! Darken my workspace no more! Go spend your reward, or something."
          With an obscene grunting laugh and another garbled "Yessss...~" Kire hobbled bow-legged for the front door of the guild hall channelling his inner Igor to the confusion of fellow adventurers and clients.