I brought my wrists up just in time. Fawn's sword swooped down in an arc and collided against my binds with a clang. The chain's thickness had stopped her from killing me outright, but I didn't have time to consider my fortune because I was still—stupidly— on the ground. So, twisting my wrists slightly, I jumped up to stand, bringing my arms up as I did.

What the fuck, what the fuck!

I was planning to scream that out loud, but this didn’t seem like the most… opportune time. The look on Fawn’s face was distant now, like she was operating outside of her own typical realm of control. She was almost… feral, now.

I pushed forward against the blade, my superior height forcing the sword up, and, with my motion, sent it backward, causing Fawn to lose balance. The warrior backpedaled, attempting to catch herself, but I could see it would only buy me perhaps a second. There was no way I was stronger than her, so I figured this was just a lucky break. I had to move. But I couldn’t help but wonder why this had happened to me. What had caused Fawn to make such a dramatic shift in her motivations? Had she been messing with me the whole time, or was there something else I wasn’t catching?

She’d changed almost immediately after I’d mentioned the Greloks. File that one under one of her nuh-uh buttons!

I turned quickly, knocking the table over in my haste and sending everything on the top sprawling. Food, papers, and bottles flew everywhere, and I noticed a few of the vessels had a similar look to the ones I'd seen in Gray Muzzle's pack.

Health potions?

That would be grand, considering I was still practically at a sliver of health and could use all the help I could get. There were three within distance, so I reached down to scoop the bottles up as I moved. Immediately, their contents were known to me as a banner appeared.

Potion of Minor Purification

Rarity: Uncommon

Item Type: Buff

Durability: 1/1

Weight: .75 lbs

Bonus: +50% poison resistance for 30 minutes.

A tincture containing Wolfsparrow Root's essence allowing an individual to resist most common or low-level poisons, natural or supernatural. Bon appetit!

Potion of Minor Speed

Rarity: Uncommon

Item Type: Buff

Durability: 1/1

Weight: .75 lbs

Bonus: +10% speed increase for 1 minute.

A small bottle filled with the liquid essence of various enchanted herbs. Increases speed by ten-percent for one minute. My, look at you go!

Potion of Excess Speed

Rarity: Uncommon

Item Type: Buff

Durability: 1/1

Weight: .75 lbs

Bonus: +50% speed increase for 20 seconds. 100% Stamina Restore for 20 seconds.

A small bottle filled with the liquid essence of various enchanted herbs. Increases speed by fifty-percent for twenty seconds and Stamina to full for the same increment of time. Time to fly!

Fuck!

I didn't have time to think. I just did. Stuffing one bottle into my waistband, I smashed the stems of each of the remaining two bottles together, breaking the hard panes and stuck both upside down into my open mouth. I emptied them as I ran, swallowing the contents before realizing that there were shards of glass traveling down my esophagus mixed in with the liquid.

A banner sprang up in my vision but immediately minimized and became a blinking notification just at the edge of my sight. It had to be because of the immediate danger, but I couldn't bother as I was moderately positive I was about to fucking die. Though, I couldn't help but wonder why the banner had not been dismissed when I'd read the nature of the bottles.

Screw it. Go!

I bee-lined for the tent flap and planned on making a break for it when I saw my pack sitting just to the side.

"Oh, hell," I said and shifted my weight a little, aiming for the bag. I thought maybe I could zig-zag toward it and then out the exit if I planned it right. However, things rarely go the way I want them to, and this proved to be no exception.

I noticed that I was a little bit faster and knew the potion must have taken effect already. This was good because if there was any chance of my escaping, I'd need to be as fast as possible.

I reached the bag and snatched it up, turning to the opening of the tent as a shape flashed toward me. Fawn, moving fast as shit, caught up to me and brought her blade down. I reacted as quickly as I could, only managing to move my head out of the way as I stumbled backward. Her cold eyes were focused only on me as her blade sliced through several of the arms of the coat rack positioned next to us. I crashed into the legs of it and heard the wood snap as I did, sending the thing careening forward just as Fawn repositioned and swung again.

The commander was still only focusing on me, so she didn't see the sharpened stakes she'd just made out of the hacked-off ends of the coat rack's hooks. However, she definitely felt them as her downward strike's motion drove the sharp points into her neck and unprotected armpit. Blood sprayed everywhere as streams erupted from the wounds, most of it landing on me.

Fawn's eyes went wide. Then she released a glass-shattering scream and fell backward, taking the rack with her. She landed with a loud thud and began writhing on the ground in front of me, anguished cries being the song she chose to sing as she tried pulling the makeshift weapon out of her body.

I clambered to my feet, watching as a pool of blood formed beneath the wailing soldier before me. I mean, I know she had just tried to kill me, but it was an awful sight that would absolutely haunt my dreams if I was ever able to sleep again. I noticed a shifting shape fall from my lap and onto the ground.

The rain-spattered cloak.

It must have become dislodged in the fray and landed on me, and I hadn't noticed. I mean, why would I? I'd been trying not to be the opposite of alive.

That was when a banner sprang up.

???

Rarity: ???

Item Type: ???

Durability: ???

Weight: ???

???

Huh. Well, isn't that something?

I grabbed the cloak and my bag, not sparing another glance to the woman on the ground, still frantically attempting to extract the spikes from her flesh. Then I pushed my way through the exit.

I was immediately blasted by hard pelts of rain. Apparently, while I was busy playing the world's deadliest game of tag with my new best friend, a heavy storm had broken. Soldiers were running every which way, trying to find shelter or make their way to finish up whatever they'd been in the middle of when the sky's wrath began. My Dark Vision activated immediately, and I noticed it had to be because the rain had put out most of the torches filling the camp.

Finally: a little fortune. Now to make like a poke in the ass, and goose it.

I tried to sweep my newly found cape over my shoulders, but my hands were still bound.

Oh yeah. Shit.

I had to settle for hurriedly flipping it over my head, accidentally clobbering myself in the forehead with a chain in the process. I yelped. Just a little—but very masculinely. I tried to clasp the pin around my neck but couldn't position my hands well enough to fully connect it. I gave up and just pressed the unfastened ends to my neck and decided to take advantage of the chaos.

I began trudging through the rain-slick camp as well as I could—which, if I'm honest, was a lot easier than I thought with the boost from the speed potion. Still, though, it wasn't exactly easy considering I was trying to head back the way I came, which meant going uphill.

I stomped through the mud taking the main road at first but ducking behind crates and tents as well as I could considering the soaking-wet circumstances. Soldiers raced past me, sliding, tripping, and falling, but no one paid me any mind. I noticed the blinking message at the corner of my vision again and decided to risk a quick look.

Congratulations! You have gained your first Perk!

For obtaining your first Perk, you receive a bonus to the effects of the newly acquired Perk.

Gained the Adventurous Tastes [Potions] Perk!

Adventurous Tastes [Potions]

Because of your worldly nature, you have sampled at least three different varieties of Regaia-forged potions within your first twelve hours of arrival. Quite the gourmand you are!

Gain +1 to Constitution (+2 with First Perk bonus)

Potion consumption now yields 5% more effectiveness (+8% with First Perk bonus)

This world just keeps throwing things at me. Now it's Perks—what next, a sandwich meter?

At that moment, my stomach growled.

Very funny, I thought to myself. I was getting hungry, but my rations were deep in the recesses of my pack, and I didn't exactly have time to fish them out for a quick bite. I considered that a sandwich would actually be really helpful right now, as I could eat in on the go. Then I passed a table near a cookfire with a field-dressed rabbit laying abandoned without its skin, and that thought immediately dissipated. This place was strange, but surely it wasn't going to use my own thoughts against me? Better not to think about that… just in case.

I knew now that I was moving slightly quicker than normal—even trying to be inconspicuous—the Speed potion a helpful little friend in my hour of need. I had to consider how much faster I'd be if I decided to use the other potion. But, it was wedged firmly between my belt and my hip bone, far beyond reach with my current handcuffs. It would just have to wait until I was really in the shit and I didn't mind ripping my pants off to get to it.

But, if I need to use it, hanging brain will be the least of my worries.

I slipped along, trying not to let anyone get wind that I was the same big, lumbering orc that had recently entered the camp in chains.

I'm just a different big, lumbering orc trying to quietly escape the camp in chains.

I could see the edge of the encampment and the path I'd been marched down and gave myself a little internal praise. I was almost there! I'd also encountered no hiccups, so perhaps my luck was beginning to turn around.

But, of course, that was a stupid, stupid thought.

At that moment, I heard a terrible sound behind me—one of a distinctly familiar variety.

"He's escaped!"

It was the strained bark of Commander Fawn, and it sounded like she'd at least partially recovered. I chanced a look over my shoulder, back the way I'd just come from, and saw that the large pavilion's flap was open, and light was pouring out into the camp. Commander Fawn's dastardly form was framed in the opening, and a group of soldiers was rushing to her aid.

"Damn," I whispered to myself. "I should've just brained her when I had the chance."

That was all the fuel I needed to get this last leg of my exodus to go a bit quicker. I abandoned all pretense of guile, and instead, began hoofing it hard toward the path I'd initially entered from. Some soldiers were ahead, facing the direction their leader's voice had come from and—by proxy—me. One of them took note of me and immediately shouted, alerting the others to my presence.

"Well, shit around some sticks," I hissed—not really thinking about what I was saying—and bolted to the left where the tents were a bit more densely placed. It turned out to be a wrong move because as I zigged and zagged through the bevy of backwoods boudoirs, soldiers began emerging from them, sticking their heads out of the openings and seeing precisely who it was that was the cause of all the chaos.

I saw movement and naked steel—and a few naked bodies—as I ducked behind one tent and tried to skirt through the assembly without getting riddled with holes. I heard heavy, wet boot falls behind me and looked to see two soldiers had decided they might try their luck at running me down. Both had swords in hand and were moving as fast as they could without sliding to cut me off in my escape. At that moment, another soldier—late to the party—stepped out from his tent, looking the opposite direction I was coming from.

You unlucky son of a bitch.

I slid to the side of him and then heaved my shoulder as hard as I could into his body, sending the miserably unaware idiot backward and right into the path of the pursuing soldiers.

"Wha—" he started to say. But, whatever he had been trying to intimate was silenced—likely forever—as he collided with his buddies, a sword point traveling right through his neck. The three soldiers collapsed to the mud in a cluster of arms, legs, and blood.

I didn't have time to gloat about my impressive stroke of luck—I had to get the fuck out of there. More shapes converged on me, and I shot off again, leaping over a crate and into the road. My breathing was extraordinarily painful, and my heart was pounding.

Nothing but blast beats.

Even despite the wildly inappropriate time to do so, I thought about the drums in Meshuggah's The Demon's Name Is Surveillance. The maniacal, percussive explosions so expected of many metal songs were absolutely choice in that track, but at that moment, I felt like the rhythm of my palpitations would have put their drummer to shame.

Eat my heart out, Tomas Haake.

I sucked in a breath of agony—this was far more exercise than I'd ever done in my life. Even with my new body, I thought about how much harder this world would be if I continued to skip cardio.

I promise, I thought, if I make it out of this out alive, I will do a jumping jack.

I was able to avoid several more frantic search parties that went by, each time ducking behind whatever random cover I could find. Fortunately, a camp that had to be on the move frequently had a surplus of hidey-holes, and eventually, I found myself at the far edge of the settlement.

This is it!

I put a little extra pep in my step and tried to draw the cloak closer around me with my lashed-together hands. It was—unsurprisingly—challenging to do. But I managed to sort of tuck the fabric under one arm and hold the collar down enough to shield me from about half of the wind and rain that was assaulting me. I was still pissed with the clasp not fully… well, clasping. It was its one job, and if it had been an employee, it would have been fired faster than I had those two days I worked at Zippy's.

There was movement behind me, and without looking, I started at a run towards the now-visible treeline. I heard a couple of shouts and a godawful snap and twang. Then, an arrow sprouted from the ground right next to my foot.

"They're shooting at me!" I exclaimed to myself and leaped to the side, trying to decide if the serpentine pattern worked as well on archers as it apparently did on the potential school shooters we were warned about in our drills back home.

Another arrow thunked into the ground in the space I'd just been in.

"Ha!" I exclaimed. "It does work!"

I looked over my shoulder at the dwindling torchlight of the camp and saw there were several soldiers arranged to wing clip my graceful departure. Some were chasing—some standing and aiming.

"Suck my zig-zaggy balls, dick heads!"

BLAM.

My skull felt like it had just been sent into space inside of a concrete mixer. I realized, in a stupor, that I was lying on my back in the mud, staring up at dripping branches. Apparently, in my haste to insult people who almost definitely couldn't hear me, I'd collided head first with a tree.

"Ugh…" I groaned, trying to cradle my head but accidentally bonking myself further with the chains. That didn't feel good. I doubled over in the wet earth and heaved. However, my stomach was empty, so all I felt leaving my body was bile and a lot of saliva. In the back of my dizzy mind, I knew I had to get up and do… something. Several loud thwacks and two wet slinks, and I saw more arrows had arrived to say hello. None of them had hit me—fortunately—but my urgency had dissipated somewhat as I struggled to regain hold over my memory of the last several seconds.

"I was supposed to…" I said aloud. "...do. Supposed to do… things."

It was hard to figure out, considering the splitting headache and a new feeling—an uncomfortable strangling sensation.

Someone's choking me!

I reached up with my paired hands and attempted to wrestle away the grasp of whatever mystery assassin had snuck up on me when my fingers touched cold metal.

"Wha…?" I started, thinking there was another chain around my throat, but then I realized it was part of my clothing. Or rather, the cloak that I was wearing.

The clasp.

It had finally buttoned itself together—probably from my extremely graceful encounter with the tree trunk. My mind started to clear a little, and now I noticed a message had appeared in front of me.

You have donned the Trespasser's Veil!

Trespasser's Veil

Rarity: Elusive

Item Type: Arcane Cloak

Durability: ???

Defense: N/A

Bonus: +20% evasion when hidden

A unique cowl of indeterminate origin that shimmers when doffed. The Trespasser's Veil envelops the wearer in Arcane darkness, making them much harder to see.

Gain the Sneaking Skill

+10% to Sneaking Skill

Congratulations! You have gained a new Skill!

Sneaking (F-Rank Level 1)

You can now move around intended targets with less likelihood of being discovered—the perfect Skill for a life of crime or a very unseemly spouse. This is a Dexterity-based Skill and will become more powerful as you grow in that Attribute. The outcome for efficiency is the Sneaking Skill + Dexterity quotient. Stalk to your heart's content.

A cloak that makes you more sneaky? I considered this. It was prevalent in video games and really shouldn't have been that surprising, but the effects of this were very strange to my pummel-addled brain. I'd learned the Throwing Weapons Skill by actually throwing a weapon, but that was the standard, sensible way of doing it. Obtaining the capability of a Skill I hadn't even tried yet through the medium of accessories didn't really make sense.

There were two more arrow thunks and the sound of heavy boots racing near me, so I decided it was best to weigh the merits of fashion-gained Skills another time. But I couldn't help but think about the outcome of using a Skill without test-driving it first. Would I even know how to do it properly?

Time to find out.

I lifted myself from the mud and into a crouch just as the soldiers who'd been chasing after me came fully into view. I shot off into the trees, keeping myself low and trying to be considerate of how much noise my gigantic body probably made as I staggered through the mud and ducked under branches.

I could hear the soldiers' confused oaths as they debated amongst themselves whether or not I'd actually just been there and if they should pursue me into the woods. Apparently, that was a foolish suggestion because soon, I could hear them slurching into the dense wood behind me.

I was cold, wet, exhausted, being chased by assholes who wanted to bring me back to their bizarrely mercurial leader, and my skull felt like it had just been treated to a bowling ball polisher, but… no one was shooting at me now.

Little blessings.

I stumbled through the thickets of downed, slippery branches and logs, pushed past low branches with scratchy bits, and tried desperately to lose the infuriating tail of half-wits that were so doggedly hounding me. Through it all, I just kept willing myself to keep moving, putting one foot in front of the other as I attempted to put enough distance between myself and the goons as possible.

I still couldn’t figure out the change in Fawn. Everything had been largely alright, and unless she had some bizarre master plan, it didn’t make any sense why she would extend an offer to join her right before trying to chop me into orc steaks. What the hell was going on? In all honesty, I felt foolish. I had started to trust someone, even just a little, and look what happened. It bit me on the ass. Well, I wouldn’t be making that mistake again.

After what seemed like an eternity, I found that the Redmark footsteps and loud complaints had faded, moving off to the left behind me, and I was able to take in a large breath. It seemed as though they were much more blind out here than I was. Guess it was just going to be me on my own out here. But, I figured it was better to be alone in confusion than surrounded by hostile company—at least, if I could fully shake my pursuers. I wasn’t safe yet, by any stretch.

I kept moving. I didn't dare stop right now because I knew if I did, I might fall asleep. It would be bad news if one of those Redmark douchebags happened upon me taking a snooze—and even worse—I was pretty sure I was rocking a very handsome concussion. I wasn't sure, but I thought I remembered that if you fell asleep after a head injury, you could slip into a coma or die outright. Perhaps it was the exhaustion, but the irony of that made me giggle a little. But, it was like a deep, manly giggle. It definitely didn't sound like a gleeful newborn chipmunk. Not at all.

Eventually, though I felt ready to collapse at the mere whisper of a soft spot to land, I emerged from the treeline and found—to my surprise—that the rain had let up while I'd been Red Riding Hood-ing it through the universe's shittiest footrace. It hadn't entirely stopped but had calmed to a drizzle, which I preferred to the apocalyptic maelstrom it'd been a short while ago.

I was standing at the cusp of a stretch of wet grass that sloped upward a little to an edge, a rosy glow emanating from somewhere beyond its zenith. The sky seemed huge here, and I realized that it was because there were no trees or hills I could see obstructing its view. It was still a sort of muted gray-black from the terrible weather, but hey, I'd take it. I sloshed forward across the grass, and when I finally reached the top of the slope, my stomach felt like it had instantly been filled with a hot bowl of gravity.

It was not just a warm illumination on the other side. Much like before, I found that the light I'd been so easily hoodwinked into following belonged—in fact—to torch flame. I was at the edge of a cliff face, and far below were dozens—possibly a hundred—tiny little fires, moving along in a group. From the glow, I could just make out the various shades of red the soldiers holding them were wearing and cursed.

Redmarks.

It had to be the returning group Fawn had mentioned. Just my luck. I'd narrowly escaped one set of bullies just to have my path cut off by their meaner older brothers.

Out of the frying pan and into the toilet.

I heard a snap behind me and whipped around, expecting to get a face full of arrowheads from the group of soldiers who'd very clearly found me appreciating the landscape. However, only one form stood just at the edge of the trees, and they didn't appear to be carrying any projectiles. Not that I could see anyway. They were big. Not as tall as me, but muscular, and switching into Dark Vision—I'd finally seemed to get the hang of it—I could see he was bald, with a large burn on one side of his face.

It was the blacksmith from the Redmark camp that seemed buddy-buddy with Chessit.

Great, I thought. So, no group of lackeys, just a boss fight. No big deal.

He didn't say anything; he just stared at me.

"Take—er—paint a picture," I called to him. "It'll last longer."

I'll admit, my witty taunts weren't as sharp as they probably would be had I not lost my headbutt competition with the tree.

The man seemed to find this comment interesting because he took a few steps forward.

"Listen, old-timey barber-man," I said, taking a step to the side. "I'm not too tired to whoop an old man's ass on top of a mountain."

He still wasn't saying anything. He just kept moving slowly toward me, which was very unsettling.

"Seriously, man," I continued, glancing over my shoulder at the edge of the cliff face. "I'm an orc. We go crazy. I'll do some vile shit to you if you don't back away now. I've killed bigger men than you."

"I doubt that," the man said, continuing his stroll. His voice was oddly… soft. Like a teacher or a social worker. Not what I expected from someone who looked like they bench pressed vending machines for light calisthenics.

"Yeah, well…" I started. "You know what they say about doubters…"

He cocked his head to the side.

"No," he said. "I don't. What do they say about doubters?"

"They, uh… eat… babies?"

The man shook his head, and when he spoke, his tone sounded amused.

"Well, I've never heard that before. I don't eat babies. I've heard orcs do, though."

Burn-Face didn't stop his approach, and now he was only about twenty feet away from me. I reached for my pack but realized I'd have no luck trying to dig through it to get to anything remotely close to a weapon. I sighed and saw a path to my right that led back into the woods.

"Yeah," I said to him, catching up with the train of conversation. "I do eat babies. I've eaten loads. I told you, I'm straight-up insane. If you try and take me back to the camp, you'll regret—"

"I'm not going to take you back to the camp."

I paused.

"You're not? Yeah, right, dip switch. Like I believe that."

"Now, who is the doubter?" Burn-Face asked.

"Me," I said, taking a deep breath and preparing to tear ass out of there toward the trees. "We've been over this. I eat babies, remember?"

The man didn't say anything, but just as I was planning a solid 'look over there' and dash scenario, he pounced. Faster than I could track, he bolted right at me, and I threw my chained hands up to defend myself. He snatched my wrists and jerked me to the side, forcing me to stare right into his eyes. They were very dark but had a glint of deep red to them and looked like smoldering black coals.

"Praise be to the Drifter," he said.

"What are—"

I felt myself lurch backward as he shoved me. Hard.

I tried to shout, but the shock of my fall froze my bellow in my lungs. I watched the edge of the cliff zoom past me as I went over into freefall, rocketing toward the ground below.