The entrance was a large archway in the stone walls. Around the gate’s entrance, we saw the first signs of actual human activity as oxen driven carts moved along the road, to and from what I thought was going to be some kind of little village, but turned out to be a good sized town. They all looked classic movie peasant, like they’d been transported from the set of a fantasy movie. Many had dirt on them, but they were far too healthy looking for real medieval peasants.

As we reached the archway itself, we were stopped by the guards posted there. I was relieved to see both of their Identifiers showed them to be human.

“Sir Reg is coming down to meet with you. Just wait there and don’t be causing any trouble, neither.” The younger of the two guards said. He looked barely fresh out of school.

The grizzled old guard behind him laughed. His moustache wriggling in an off-putting way as he did. “Looks to me like a mosquito fart could wipe this lot out. Cept’n for the dog, maybe. Looks like he got some good fight’n in ‘im.”

Boris growled at the guard, but further back and forth was prevented by the arrival of Sir Reg, apparently.

“Good day, gentlemen. Thank you for waiting here. My name is Sir Reginald Featherfoot. Do not be offended by your treatment. All guests to our fair town of Laurel, must state their business and their prior location. If you’re from Malatian lands, you will be aware of our protocols?” He stated, but it sounded like a question.

“We’re not from around here. Malatian lands anyway,” Joel offered.

“You said you were brought through a portal by demons. Correct?”

“Yeah. We we’re down the beach, right? And this demon zaps us with a flippin’ portal thingy,” Daz said, dramatically waving his arms around.

“Then we were inside this bloody castle, and a huge demon fella came barreling after us, roaring his head off. We managed to escape through this other portal, in his throne room, and it pooped us out here… well back there a fair few miles,” He pointed over his shoulder with his thumb.

“And the demon?” Sir Reginald asked.

“He got shot in the shoulder from some flying woman. Then made like a banana and split after that. So did the woman. She might have saved us, but she wasn’t very nice about it,” Joel added.

“Fascinating as that is, I still remain uncertain as to where you were from, prior to coming here?” Sir Reginald replied.

“We’re pretty sure it’s a different world.” Joel said. “Like really different.”

Sir Reginald looked at each of us with a frown. “You realise, you sound quite mad, telling us that you’re from another world. You aren’t demons yourself in disguise, are you?” He asked.

“Yeah. Of course we are!” Mal said testily. “We turned ourselves into four injured, decrepit humans with dehydration and hunger debuffs, starved the dog too, all so we could stagger round your walls and wait patiently at your gate to meet you and beg for some food and a bed. I don’t know anything about your town Sir Reginald, but does that sound like something demons would need to do to enter?”

I sensed Mal might have overstepped the mark in his tone. Thankfully, Sir Reginald laughed. “I do actually believe you. If you are demons acting as desperate humans, then this is without doubt, the finest piece of acting I have ever seen.” The surrounding guards laughed. Hell, even some of the rubbernecking townspeople were chuckling at our pathetic state.

I finally mustered the strength to speak over the multiple injuries crying out for attention. “Sir Reginald. It’s been a very tough couple of days. We’ve not eaten, nor drank…”

“Apart from the mana potions!” Daz unhelpfully offered. I saw Sir Reg raise an eyebrow at that.

“It was all we could find, and we were dying. We took them from the bodies of the demons we killed out there. Anyway, we’re happy to answer all of your questions, but do you think we could get something to eat, and some rest? We have some coins.”

“Without proof of your origin prior to coming here, if you are insistent on remaining in our town, I must ask you to remain in our holding cells. They aren’t the most comfortable, but they are a damn sight better than the prison cells. If you’re not opposed to staying in there until a priestess can come down from the temple and verify your alignment. Then you are welcome to remain.”

“What’s our alignment?” Mal asked.

“Light, Dark, or Neutral. The priestesses and acolytes of Devotion can read the soul of almost any creature.”

“I assume we’re fucked if our alignment is dark?” I asked.

He laughed. “Yes, I suppose you would be. If you are dark aligned, then I suggest you keep walking.”

“Uhm, guys,” Daz said timidly. “There’s er, that time… with the sheep remember?”

“But you said that was an accident Daz,” Mal questioned.

“It was! But I still got community service and the fine. I’m still paying that shitty loan off, that I had to take out to pay it. The fucking APR is insane.”

I ignored Daz. He always complained about the interest on that loan. Literally every time we went out, he’d bring it up. Normally when it was his round at the bar.

Instead, I looked to Sir Reginald. “I don’t think we’re evil, but we’ve all done a few dodgy things here and there.”

Sir Reginald burst out laughing. “Haven’t we all, son, haven’t we all.” Then he lowered his voice so only those in immediate company could hear. “Some of the clergy of the other gods of light are the most depraved bastards out there. Not Devotion though. At least not in Laurel.” Then he spoke more clearly again.

“Alignments are down to which of the gods you follow and to a lesser extent your actions. So as long as you don’t worship any of the dark gods you will be fine. So, cells?”

I looked at the others for their approval. I was dying. I needed to sit down and none of us worshipped anything, in this world or any other. They all nodded assent.

“You will sort food out for us though, right?” Joel said, asking the questions that needed asking. “And maybe a doctor?”

“Healing potions,” Mal said. “If they have Mana potions, then they’ll have healing potions.”

“We will arrange the food and refreshments as part of the arrangement. The healing can be provided by the priestess that comes, providing you’re not dark aligned.”

“Lead the way, then.” I smiled tiredly.

He led us off, with an escort of six guards, clearly not intending on taking any chances with us. I couldn’t fault his logic. Though the jolly old nobleman was level fifty-two. He could no doubt kick all our asses with his hands tied behind his back.

It only took a few minutes to arrive at a large stone walled building. It was built into the town wall itself. Other than that, most details passed me by in a haze.

Inside the main building, we were led through a series of corridors, finally coming to a stop at a thick wooden door. It was well banded with thick iron straps and had a decidedly ominous feel to it. Nonetheless, it proclaimed the entrance to our hopefully temporary new home.

To my relief, inside was way better than I’d anticipated. Which was dark, damp, and rat infested. Maybe with a shackled skeleton on a pile of rotting hay and dirty green coloured water dripping from the ceiling.

Instead, it was well lit, dry and had clean, raised wooden pallets lining the walls, wide enough to both lie down on or just sit on.

The guards waited outside as we all filed in, with Sir Reginald bring up the rear.

“We have sent for a priestess. I do hope she won’t be too long for you. In the meantime, I will have refreshments sent along immediately. Please take this opportunity to rest. You all look deeply in need of it.” With that, he smiled and disappeared back out of the door.

It was all very pleasant, yet the sound of the heavy bolt being slid into place, took the shine off the experience.

We all claimed a space on the low benches. I lay straight down and closed my eyes. I’d intended to fight the curse in my arm, but as soon as my head touched the wood, I was asleep.

The sound of animated chatter woke me up. My left eye sprung open, my right eye was stuck together with gunk. The rest of my body remained motionless. I felt like I’d somehow took on the attributes of the bench. Namely, I was stiff as a board and if anything, I felt worse than before I had slept.

My eye finally focused on Sir Reginald, then flicked quickly to the beautiful young woman dressed in flowing blue and white robes with sparkling golden accents, who stood next to him. They were both talking to Mal, Daz and Joel and I was glad their eyes weren’t on me.

In front of the very attractive, immaculately dressed woman, I suddenly felt rather self-conscious about the state I was in. My dirty, ruined, blood stained clothing didn’t exactly pop.

They were all too deep in conversation to have even noticed my return to the land of the living. At least they were until my treacherous stomach gave me away. It rumbled like nearby thunder causing every eye in the room to turn on me.

I smiled weakly, struggling into a sitting position. Daz came straight over to me, helping me upright. “You alright Clive, mate?”

I grunted, my mouth seemingly immobile for speech at least. If I wasn’t so dehydrated, I could have cried when Daz offered me a plate of food. I couldn’t even work up the saliva to drool over the bread, meat, cheese, and grapes arrayed on it.

I took the plate thankfully, putting it on my knees and looking back up at the two visitors. They were both staring at me intently, which pissed me off more than I could explain. If my mouth had worked properly, I would have asked for some fucking dignity.

The woman eventually spoke to me. “I will assess your three friends while you partake of sustenance, young man.”

My addled mind couldn’t make sense of the young man. She was mid-twenties, max. I wasn’t too enthused by her haughty tone, either. I studied her Identifier for a moment.

Priestess of Devotion, Esbeth Descar: Elman: Level 41.

I wanted to know what an Elman was, but now was not the time.

“Here,” Daz said, pulling my attention back to him. He handed me a goblet of water. I took it happily, knowing this was what I needed right now, above all else.

I poured some water into my mouth, but for a second, my throat wouldn’t swallow like it was supposed to. Water sloshed down my face and I felt a small flare of panic, as I suffocated on the water. I coughed, and spluttered, the combination of water and forced activity, breathing life into me.

Once I’d recovered, I hastily drained the rest of the goblet, not spilling a drop this time. Daz took it from me and refilled it while started cramming bread in my food hole. Bad choice. I choked again as the bread got stuck. I had to grab the water from Daz once more, to lubricate the fluffy, unruly morsel.

I had drawn the attention of the others in the room once more with my death throes, but I was past caring. I focused on eating and drinking with as much gusto as I could safely manage.

“What about you guys?” I asked Daz quietly. He pointed to the empty plates by the door. “You needed the sleep, man. We all agreed.”

“Thanks. I probably did. How’s the head?” I asked.

“Still really bloody sore, mate,” he complained. “I’m just glad it didn’t hit me in the fucking face.” He gingerly touched the burnt area. Now I was somewhat recovered from our ordeal. I could see it really did look serious. An unhealthy crimson, with large yellow blisters. The sight of it prompted me to inspect my chest. It was red and blistered too, but my hoodie had at least offered some protection. My cursed arm, on the other hand was pure torture.

“Neutral!” the priestess said loudly. We both looked over to see her cast some kind of spell on Mal. A faint shimmering light covered him, and before our very eyes, his cuts and bruises healed, and he was suddenly looked much cleaner.

The priestess smiled at his expression of awe before moving on to Joel. I had to smile when Boris nudged her leg. She looked down at him and surprised me by laughing a gentle pleasant sound to my ears.

Placing a hand on his head she concentrated. “Light!” She shouted delightedly. Muttering a few words, she healed and cleansed Boris, too, then crouched down to give him a hug and a stroke. I was surprised by him allowing this. He was supposed to be a right bastard with strangers.

A similar series of events unfolded with Joel who was also neutral. Afterwards, he and Mal high fived each other, looking healthy and clean, wearing their ninja robes of holding. It was hard to describe how deeply I hated them right now.

While I drank the rest of the pitcher of water. My plate already as barren as the forsaken lands we’d just passed through. Daz had his turn next. He looked terrified, but like the others, he was neutral. I watched in amazement as his red blistered head, tuned back to healthy skin.

“You may want to visit the barbers and have them remove the rest of your hair. It is… an unusual style to sport, otherwise.” She said with a smile for him.

He rubbed at his head, grinning. “Yeah, I will. Thank you so much!”

Her gaze then fell on me. “Your turn, Clive, isn’t it?” she asked placing a hand on my shoulder. I thought it odd she asked, as my tag was floating above my head. I merely nodded assent as a warm tingling sensation coursed through my body. Sadly, there was no instant proclamation of alignment for me. Instead, she took a step back, eying me warily.

I groaned. “Well, this is just fucking typical. Come on, hit me with it then.”

She didn’t reply for so long I thought she wasn’t going to. She looked confused when she finally did. “You somehow have Light, Dark and Neutral alignments. This shouldn’t be possible. Who are you?” Her bright green eyes never left my face as she spoke and waited for a response.

“We just covered that. I’m Clive. I’ve got no idea where the light alignment comes from, but I think the dark alignment may be from my arm. I was stabbed by a cursed demon dagger. It’s trying to take over my whole body,” I said as nonchalantly as I could.

“You’re cursed?” She asked shocked at the revelation.

“Apparently so. When I leveled to nine, I strengthened my Internal Connection. I’m trying to fight it.”

“Let me see,” she snapped.

I tried to roll up my sleeve, but it only went as far as my forearm and the movements to achieve that caused a whole new level of pain. The black tendrils had spread down my arm almost to my hand now. She blanched at the sight of it.

“Take your jumper off so I may see the full wound.

“It’s too painful. I don’t think I can,” I said already breathless from just rolling my sleeve up. She looked annoyed, but put her hands toward me, and began muttering the same incoherent babble she had on the others to heal and cleanse them.

Unfortunately, the effect was not the same. The invading curse in my arm, exploded into a pain so intense and excruciating that my guttural howl of pain, despair and anguish were blessedly cut short by unconsciousness.