“Hmm, a smooth stone road.” It was not a dirt path, and it was reasonably well maintained. That meant that it would be used frequently. A possibility existed that the dream world operated in a way that was absolutely foreign to the waking world. Yet, he chose to disregard that fact. On Earth, no one would maintain a road at this level if people rarely used it.

Excited at the prospects before him, Scott stepped out onto the road then promptly looked both ways. Neither direction offered any obvious reason to choose it.

In the end, he turned right. It was as good of a direction as any since he had no idea where he was.

The long and lonesome road that Scott walked upon afforded him only the comfort of a direction to travel. The sights and sounds presented to him were little different than from the time he spent in the grassland. The background music changed to a more upbeat ditty suitable for a road trip, but it was only interesting for the first few cycles. After a while it faded into the background of his mind and only the overbearing heat remained.

Despite the well-maintained appearance of the road, no one passed him. Neither man nor monster appeared to disrupt his peaceful journey. A thought occurred to him not long after he began to travel the road. Perhaps the road was protected? If this world truly did operate like a game it might utilize the old convention of protected roadways.

Night slowly crept up on the man as he walked his solitary path. The heavens above were set ablaze by the twilight as the sun rode down the sky. Darkness, a blackness far deeper and more pervasive than any night-time period he had ever witnessed on Earth, over took the land. He was forced to slow his traveling speed greatly for a time. The light of the stars above did not grant much illumination.

The situation changed for the better when the moon began to rise. Bright in its fullness, the great guardian of the landscape of the night illuminated the darkened world and cast slowly creeping shadows across the land. The background music became somber, more subdued. It lent the world a melancholy atmosphere.

Despite the cool and serene beauty of the night, more mundane issues arose to steal his thoughts away. He was tired. His body called strongly for nourishment, and his throat became parched from the heat and dust of the lonely highway. Yet, he must keep moving. He needed a base of operations, or at least a place to get his bearings. He would find neither if he chose to stop in the middle of the road.

The solitary moon that hung in the sky was soon joined by a surprising partner. A second moon arose. It had the appearance of a crescent, a boomerang slung at the heavens. It continued its climb for quite some time. Soon its silvery light caused the creeping shadows to twist, to distort into grasping claws and intricate patterns.

As the two heavenly lights warred for dominance over the shadows of the land, a new light appeared in the distance. This light was the flicker of flame, a sure sign of a far more mundane existence. Scott's eyes widened in both curiosity and a surprisingly joyful interest. He stopped himself short of running headlong toward that light. He was interested, but also cautious of this new event. Who or what would he find there?

Slowly, and with great alertness, he approached the light in the distance. He made every attempt to avoid making extraneous noise. It would be important to see them, whoever they may in fact be, before they saw him.

Once Scott crept close upon those who begat that intriguing light, he listened carefully. Voices, masculine and world-weary, reached his ears. He stopped his attempt at stealth and listened attentively to their conversation. It was obvious that they had not spotted him for the moment, and that would afford him the chance to determine their nature through their casual conversation.

“So, d'ye think the mine is really cursed?” asked a man. His words were spoken in a rough tone that sounded reminiscent of what Scott thought might be a poor attempt at an Irish brogue, or perhaps an equally poor Scottish accent. Accents were not something he paid much attention to in his life, and it was difficult for him to properly determine just what he was hearing from the small sample that he'd observed.

“That’s what they say. Either way, we are nae going in. Let the miners deal with the monsters and the curses. We’ll haul 'er freight like always,” said another man. His accent sounded similar to the first man, though there were subtle variations.

Scott’s lower lip quirked a bit. So, they were not bandits at least. Well, if they were indeed highwaymen they were polite and professional in their banditry. He moved forward while he continued to listen to their conversation. When he was close enough to do so clearly, he called out, “Hello, I hope that I am not disturbing anyone.”

The moment his voice echoed in the air, the camp became a flurry of activity. The rustle of clothes and the tell-tale sound of weapons being unsheathed reached his ears. Alert, no doubt fearful, men had become ready to meet the challenges of the road.

“Who be ye?” called one of the men. It was the first one, the one with the uncertain brogue. His voice held strength, but also a slight tremor. Even Scott could tell that the man was worried about the outcome of this meeting. At least that much about dream world people held true. They feared marauders and home invaders as much as people from Earth.

“A traveler who saw your fire. I just wanted to ask a few questions,” replied Scott. He would love to ask more than a few questions. Sitting down at their fire and eating something would be nice, for instance.

“If it's questions ye have then ask and be on yer way...” replied the man. He had an edge to his tone that spoke of uncertainty, but a subtle shift in his thought processes.

“That’s fair. Fine, how far is it to civilization on this road? Is there a town nearby?” Scott hated to sound clueless, but his need to get directions outweighed his desire to sound knowledgeable. These men really could be bandits, for all he knew. They would make out poorly if they robbed him, but they would be unlikely to believe that to be the case until after he was dead and gone to hell.

“Ye jes' want to know whar the next town is?” asked the man suspiciously. His tone had shifted to mild disbelief. The sound of metal scraping metal, and the soft jingle of chains could be heard. He had shifted his body slightly and revealed a little of what he was wearing.

“Yes,” replied Scott. "I hate to sound like an idiot, but I don't know where I am."

“Right, thar’s a town up the way a bit. If ye keep moving, ye should see it by dawn,” said the man.

“Up the way? If I faced your camp would I have to turn left or right to go toward town?” The answer that the man had given was ambiguous. He'd certainly not seen a town along the way here, though who knew how fast or far these people traveled in a day. Undoubtedly they knew where they were going and would be able to make better time because of it.

“Ye... would need to turn toward the right,” said the man. He did not sound certain of that fact at all.

“Thank you. Sorry to have disturbed you,” said Scott. If this event had been part of a poorly scripted fantasy movie, he would have been invited in by the travelers and learned many secrets of the dream world. However, this was real life. Normal people did not tell random voices in the dark to sit and share their fire on the side of the road.

“Right, be on yer way then...” replied the voice.

“I’m off then, enjoy your evening.” Scott took the dismissal for what it was; a reminder that he was unwelcome. However, after he had walked down the road for a few brief minutes, he could hear someone running behind him. He turned back and the running man called out, “Wait, dreamer...”

“Ah, yes?” asked Scott. The word dreamer rang in his ears. It was not a common thing to call someone where he was from, and to hear it now sounded like far more than coincidence.

The man stopped short of him and took several deep breaths before he spoke. “Sorry, about earlier. We had to be sure ye warn't a bandit.”

“Well, if it makes you feel better I had to do the same with you.” Scott made a polite nod. He was personally glad that the men had not whipped out weapons and tried to steal his onions.

The man laughed a little. It was a deep and resonant sound filled with warmth, despite the short time that it existed. “Well, that does make sense. Look now, thar’s something we need to tell ye.”

“Yes?” Scott’s fingers curled slightly. He hoped that he did not have to fight these men. He knew little of this world, but just like everyone else on Earth he was forced to spend a large chunk of his time here. He did not want to lead a life that mirrored his old existence. Here a man could fight and have it count, or so he hoped.

“We lied about the town. Thar’s nothing down this way for about six day's walk but a mining camp,” said the man. His voice bespoke actual regret at the way in which they willfully misled their undesired visitor.

“Why tell me a lie then?” Had he followed their directions he would have been placed in a considerably bad situation. His only food was the murdered corpses of his bitter onion foe. He had neither water, nor any other supplies to see him through nearly a week's journey.

“This is a well-traveled road, so we figured ye would turn back toward Argent or signal for yer friends if ye war lying.” The man rubbed the back of his head and looked a little ashamed. They had nearly sent a traveler off into the world without proper direction just to save their own skin.

Scott did not appreciate the lie, but he did understood their reasoning. Even if they had almost caused him great hardship, he did not have it in him to hate the men. He held enough dislike for humanity on Earth as it was. There was no reason to assume every human being would be an asshole regardless of their world of origin. In comparison, at least these men had acted reasonably. “How far away is Argent?”

“Well, it depends on how ye travel. If ye use the road, it’s about a day and a half walk if ye turn back.” the man said.

“How else would I get there if not for the road?” asked Scott.

“Well, ye can cut across country. The demons near here are all weak, mostly those annoying onions and the occasional rat fiend,” said the man.

“Sounds good, but what then?” Scott did not want to be lost in the grasslands again if he could help it. Now that he had a chance at acquiring real direction in this world, he wanted to take it.

“If ye head back the way ye came ye’ll eventually see a large rock off to yer right. Ye can’t miss it, the thing looks like a pillar.”

Scott inclined his head slightly. He did not recall any large rocks on the road, so it was no doubt a good distance away from the road itself. “Right, so where do I go after the pillar?”

“Walk over to it and ye should be able to see a forest in the far distance. Walk in that direction for a few hours and ye’ll eventually see farms on yer left." He stopped speaking for a moment and seemed to consider what to say next.

He rubbed his bottom lip then nodded his head slowly. "Ye can go toward any of them and ye’ll be able to find the road into Argent. I don't think any new farms have sprung up to take ye out the way."

The traveler looked at Scott. "Ye'll, knock half a day off yer walk if ye go that way.”

Scott nodded slightly then granted the man a brief smile. “I appreciate the help. I hate to admit it again, but I was a bit lost.”

“Ah, no problem. This part of the road has to be cleared of bandits now and then since it takes several days to travel between Argent and the next town over,” said the man. There was an obvious tone of relief evident in his voice.

“Thanks for taking the time to send me in the right direction then!” said Scott while attempting an amiable smile. He'd practiced it frequently at work, and at times it was almost perfect.

“Don’t mention it,” said the man. After a brief, awkward, moment the man asked, "Say, dreamer, what's your name?"

Scott started to respond with his true name, but stopped. He had a name to use in this world, and it was time that he started to think of himself in that way when he was here. "Blackthorne."

"Blackthorne is it?" The man tasted the name on his lips for a moment then shook his head. "Sounds rather intimidating. Anyway, it's nice to have met ye."

Scott inclined his head. "It was good to meet you as well."

They walked back toward the camp together, but once they reached it, they parted way. Scott needed to keep moving and the other man held no desire to aid him further.

As he walked away, he realized something from the previous conversation. He would need to carefully use the name that he'd selected for himself in this world. "Better start thinking of myself as Blackthorne instead of the old me, while I'm here."

Scott, rather Blackthorne, kept walking. His goal was not the comfort and safety of a traveler's campfire. He wanted to find that pillar before he awoke from this dream.

Another few steps later he heard a strange noise. Wha-Ping!

"The hell was that?" he asked before looking around expectantly. Neither the grass land nor the moons above showed any sign of granting him an answer.

Annoyed at the lack of a response from the world, he moved on. Several hours passed during the time that he walked that lonely midnight road. The moons had moved well toward setting by the time that he saw the previously mentioned landmark. It truly did have the appearance of a great pillar of stone. He had not noticed it before, mostly because he was focused more on the road. A rock, no matter how impressive, was just a rock.

The stone pillar protruded from the earth in a rather obvious way. It was not huge, but it did break up the monotony of the grassland. Blackthorne jogged toward the beautiful weather beaten sight. He even unleashed one of his brief smiles upon arriving at his destination. He'd completed the first task that he had set for himself in this world!

He reached up and patted the large stone. A short time later he heard the odd sound from before, once more. Wha-Ping!

"Seriously! What is that?" he asked expectantly. When he once again failed to receive an answer he sighed loudly. Maybe I have a bug in my ear or something?

Unfortunately, it was still dark and he could not see far in the distance. He spent a few moments scanning the area despite the difficulty and eventually realized that he could possibly make out a line of trees on the horizon. He could not be certain due to the distance and the darkness, but the grassland was interrupted in that direction.

It was tempting to go toward that disruption, but he knew better than to make the attempt. He had no choice but to wait until there was more light to use for navigation. He was stuck where he was for the night.

A weary and frustrated sigh escaped his lips as he sat down near the pillar. He did not want to leave his discovered landmark until after he woke up, but he knew that he would probably be asleep a few more hours. “Most people claim that it's about four hours here for one there, so I probably have another ten hours at most.”

Blackthorne might have woken up back on Earth at any minute or it could be another few hours. There was no way to know. At least there was no way that he knew of at the moment. Though, he did hear that going to sleep here would cause someone to wake up in the real world.

A few minutes passed while he rested. Boredom settled in quickly. He did not want to waste time sitting around. Maybe he should go to sleep and come back later? He was tired from his travels after all.

After he considered his options, he shook his head. “No... This would be a good time to try out my other skills.”

His path determined, Blackthorne chose to forge ahead by staying in place. He stood up then gathered a few dozen long blades of grass. Fingers long used to such delicate work wove blades of grass together in a simple but strong patter. He had done such things as a child out of boredom or as a way to quietly spend time with people he cared about. He had done such things again during his time in juvenile corrections as a means of working out his frustrations toward a world filled with hypocritical bullshit.

Eventually, his skillful fingers deftly made a decent looking bracelet. He eyed his creation critically for a moment then set it aside and began again. The grass was lengthy enough that he was able to make several of the bracelets before he ran out of materials. He picked one up and looked at it carefully once more. This time he beheld his creation long enough that he was able to see its statistics.

Grass Bracelet

Equipped: --

Weight: 0.02

Armor Type: Accessory

Armor Class: 1

Quality: Standard

Agility Reduction: 0

Durability: 3/3

Hardness: 1

Equipment Requirements

--

--

Bonus Armor Class: +0

Special Options

None

“Not bad for a few pieces of grass woven together.” He checked the other bracelets and found similar information. One had slightly higher durability, so he decided to wear it. The others were taken apart so that he could recreate them.

Dedicated to his current task, Blackthorne worked and reworked the grass bracelets for over an hour until a superior version appeared. “Defense plus two and a durability of six? I’ll take it.”

He wore the new bracelet on his other arm then tossed the others to the side. New blades of grass were gathered up and the process from before was repeated. He worked and reworked them until he managed to create another one similar to the plus two defense version. Blackthorne removed the lesser bracelet that he was wearing and equipped the new one.

“So, that works pretty well. Let’s try something else.”

Blackthorne focused on his link with his short sword and then unequipped it. Afterward he removed his bracelets he equipped them in his hand slots.

Slowly he moved them together so that they touched. "Lessee what happens," he said lightly before willing the activation of his synergy ability.

Scott focused his mind on the items in his hands then visualized them merging together into a single amorphous cloud of energy. “Combine.”

A single point of vitality was expended, but a brief light show was his reward. Unlike his failure at using magic, his production ability was easier to wield. However, he held far less control over the situation. The two bracelets merged into one much smaller item, a tiny grass ring. “What? It should have been a bracelet.”

He frowned at the tiny ring in his hand. The durability had increased to nine, but the defense dropped to one. From a purely defensive standpoint the item was weaker than before. He expended two items and created something less potent.

One of his specialty creation skills, synergy, allowed him to take two things and combine them into one superior thing. There were many uses for it from what he learned during the first dream, but he would have to discover the power inherent within its function. A magical production skill capable of supplementing his desire to create items, but without the need to carry around blacksmithing equipment, synergy was his answer to having limited skill slots when he was level zero.

Blackthorne considered his ring for a moment. Synergy had created something less potent than what it had been before. His skill needed to be trained, but he was still surprised by the outcome.

He was about to toss the ring aside, but he reached a sudden realization and blinked. “Wait... Maybe, I can use this.”

Curious, he equipped the tiny item to one of his hand slots then held the ring in his hand and concentrated. One of his other skills was ring mastery, a useful skill for any magic wielder in this world. It allowed for the creation of a mystical link with a piece of jewelry.

It took a moment, but he did feel like he was somehow closer to the ring on some spiritual level. This was important. The link that he forged would allow him a bit more freedom when it came to enchanting or something far more useful, charging his new bonded item with his life force.

Blackthorne concentrated on the ring for a moment and activated his ability to charge accessories with his life energy. He gasped aloud when the process of charging began in earnest. For him, it felt like his body had been set on fire while he streamed his energies into the ring.

In the end, he expended two points of his precious life force, but stored them within the ring. There was no need for chanting or focusing on anything more than he'd done as spell preparation before. The process was enacted in a manner similar to focusing his energies before casting a spell, but instead of spell-casting he stored his power in a ring.

He took out an onion and ate it. The earthy spiciness of it assaulted his tongue, but there was nothing else to eat at the moment. Regardless of taste preferences, he wanted to restore at least a little of his health.

“Synergy costs life force, and so does charging a ring," said Blackthorne. He acquired a thoughtful expression then made a decision that seemed appropriate, "Should probably only use those abilities when I’m in a safe place, or when I am a bit more advanced.”

Ring equipped once more, he checked his status. His life force was still high enough to give one of his other skills some attention without dying horribly. “Right, let’s give it a try.”

He focused his attention on the ring and followed the instructions that his basic skill knowledge provided in order to prime it for use. Immediately afterward he began focusing his life force to the space before his palm.

Weakness and pain warred within his body for a moment, but soon he'd reached the point that he needed to reach. Blackthorne chanted the basic litany of the dark magic at his command then cried out, “Jolt!”

The ring blazed brightly as the power stored within was consumed and added to the amount that he'd gathered before his palm. Tiny sparks of black lightning skittered out of his fingertips. He felt the weakness that accompanied the use of magic, but it was as draining as the last time that he used the spell.

He checked his status and grinned. “Only lost three points. Good, it works...”

His skill selection did indeed perform as expected. It potentially solved the problem of limited vitality. However, when he checked his ring the durability had dropped by seven points. One cast nearly destroyed it.

“Ah well, can’t be helped I guess. It is just a bunch of grass, after all,” he said, before he rubbed his chin. “What else can I try?”

“Alchemy is out, I need ingredients and recipes.” Blackthorne realized after a moment of contemplation that he did have one other thing that he could try besides fiddling with grass. He took out his sword and looked at it. “The most basic form of enchanting...”

A shake of the head indicated his next thought keenly. He was not ready, yet. He would need to rest for a while in order for the onion to restore his health first. If he managed to imbue the sword with magic, it would cost him three times the vitality cost of the spell to imbue it. He did not know for certain what happened if his vitality was completely expended, and that was one mystery that he was happy not to solve.

Blackthorne spent the time while digesting his latest onion snack at the task of weaving grass into bracelets. He made over a dozen of them before he felt like he could handle eating more of his limited stock of supplies. He went ahead and ate one more then tried to keep himself from vomiting it up. The onions did not fully agree with him in regards to their taste and nature. It was obvious that he should not eat more for now.

His stomach settled after a moment and he went back to weaving. It was a difficult prospect when his stomach churned angrily due to the nature of its contents, but he chose to persevere.

"I should let this guy settle down," said Blackthorne while patting his stomach. "Make a few rings before I try my enchanting ability. I'm going to have to eat another onion when I do it anyway."