Blackthorne's eyes scanned the area intently as he moved through the grassland. He did not know the exact amount of time that he'd spent walking, but it seemed to be quite a while. So far, nothing attacked him. Most people would be lulled into a false sense of security by now, but he knew that he would never be truly safe. That much was as true here as it was on Earth.

As time passed, he occasionally checked his status. Little had changed for him if he were to be honest. Despite the length of time that he'd traveled, he saw no difference in his status effects. His eyes still felt dry and rough. His skin still felt like large sections of his body were too close to a match.

His intense gaze soon fell upon a soft sway in the grass. Rustling sounds of grass being parted reached his ears. Something was coming. Running was not an option. Much of his strength returned as he walked, but running for a long period of time was out of the question. Whatever came for him would need to be dealt with directly.

Suddenly, four screaming onions hopped out of the grass, each of them eager for a proper meal. Thankfully, they were somewhat close together. Blackthorne ran in toward them and began to wildly swing his sword.

His actual knowledge of sword play was quite basic, but it did not matter. These monsters were not great fighters either. Removed from the chance to use their special abilities, they were easy to defeat.

Unfortunately, even in death they struck back. The dark mage’s vision became blurry as the defeated onion corpses caused him to cry a little. There was no room in his bag for the onions, but he did not want to just leave free life force restoration behind. He did find two more of those small green stones as well. That brought his collection up to seven.

He tied the little onion feet together and then carried as much as he could in one hand. The onion assault would not be the last attack that he faced down over the course of the next few hours. Dozens of the screaming bastards came for him as he made his way through the area. They never appeared in groups larger than five, but they came for him with relentless desire nonetheless.

Blackthorne knelt in the mud near a surprisingly clear puddle and did his best to breathe deeply. His vision blurred, his body aching from dozens of minor attacks received, it was safe to say that he was on his last legs. At this point he was reduced to staggering.

"I need somewhere safe to rest for a few hours, but there's nowhere..." said Blackthorne, "It's all grass and onions out here."

He reached over and took a handful of water from the hole in the ground. Just before he drank it, however, he noticed information pop up around it.

Pure Water

Class: C

Quality: Medium

Nutrition Value:

- Cures [0.05] poison status per [1] serving per [1] minute for [5] minutes

- Restores [1] Life force per [1] minute for [10] minutes

"Seriously...?" he asked, hope rising almost as quickly as his hand rose to his lips. Blackthorne drank the water without hesitation. Several handfuls later he began to see results, literally. His vision began to clear.

He drank his fill, and then opted to remain in place for a while so that he could drink more. The water did little for any of his other injuries, but flushing the toxins from his eyes would be incredibly useful.

It did not take long for his vision to clear altogether. The pure water was fairly powerful stuff when compared to a weak toxin.

"Man, that is so much better that it's almost scary," said Blackthorne.

He checked his status then sighed. The small wounds that he'd received would take hours to heal still. Almost every time he fought an onion he would take a small wound somewhere. His legs were tender and raw in some places, and the tenderness on his arm told him the truth. He'd have a massive bruise there at some point.

Of course, his status told him that as well. The worst part was that the bruises would take longer to heal that the damned burns! Who knew that it took weeks for bruises to heal normally?

"It's weird, you know..." he said to himself. While looking at his stats he could only shake his head. "How much damage can my body take, anyway? Is there no hit point system for body damage?"

Six bruises, each would take two or three days to heal with his current bolstered regeneration rate. He would not be able to regain his life force any time soon.

"This armor really saved me. I'd be dead if those bastards hit me this hard when I was unprotected," mused Blackthorne while he continued his break from travel.

He sat there for time uncounted. Occasionally, he would use some of the pure water to clean a cut or to soothe a burn. It did nothing for his injuries, but it felt good.

A light rustle in the grass signaled the arrival of a new challenger. Blackthorne nodded. It was time to go once more. His challenger proved to be an easily dispatched group of onions. After the lackluster fight, he drank a bit of water to remove the status effect more quickly and headed out.

The moon hung low on the horizon by the time he saw something glorious in the far distance. “Is that a farm?” he asked the empty air. He hoped so. Fighting was fun and all, but he wanted to see what a town in this world was like. Hopefully it would not be overrun by rats and onions!

Blackthorne headed toward the hoped for farm. On the way he ran across a few random onions, but he made short work of them. They were not even worthy of note at the moment, though he did search the corpses for green stones.

It seemed like he walked for hours before dawn broke. He began to see ever greater detail in the farm area. What he originally mistook for a ridge, turned out to be a wall.

In the distance he could see tiny moving figures. It did not take long for him to determine that those were wagons and carts. He still needed to travel several miles, it seemed. Thankfully the grassland was fairly flat, so could not become lost as long as he used the landmarks provided by the traveler earlier.

Surprisingly, no more monsters molested him in his travels. Either the coming of the dawn sent them into hiding, or they did not range too close to town. He did not care at the moment. The only thing he wanted to know was whether or not he could trade any of the crap he gathered on the way so that he could find a room to rest and some equipment.

It took over two hours before he reached the road, and another half hour after that to reach the town gates. The gates were a large wooden constructs that seemed quite capable of holding off a small horde for a time. Stone walls surrounded the town and obscured his view.

Upon arrival several guards popped up. “Halt, dreamer,” said a burly man in fur-lined steel armor. He looked like the sort of man who could lift a cart up overhead then laugh when other people stared in slack-jawed awe.

“Yes?” asked Blackthorne.

The guard eyed him up and down. “You look frightful. Did you find trouble on your journey?”

“Ah, someone suggested I cut across country to save time on my trip here. The rats and onions are pretty nosy at night,” replied Blackthorne.

The massive militiaman laughed heartily. “I see. Did you collect anything to prove that story?”

Blackthorne was momentarily annoyed by the man’s questioning nature, but he realized that he no doubt looked like hell after carving his way across the countryside. He was new in the area as well. “Sure, one moment.”

He reached into his bag and pulled out a few onions, a rat thigh, and a horn. The guard raised his eyebrow then nodded.

The guards visibly relaxed after seeing the proof of his story. Their overly large leader said, “Ah, well met then. Welcome to Argent, dreamer.”

The massive man waved everyone away, and Blackthorne entered into town without further issue. On the way in, however, the guard leader called out. “If you need a place to stay, dreamer, try the Screaming Onion Tavern. They buy meat and onions, too.”

“Thanks! That’s good to know. I have a lot of left overs to sort out,” called back Blackthorne.

The guards watched him walk into town for a moment then turned back to their duty. He was an odd one, but they had seen stranger people. It was not that uncommon for an adventurer to wonder in with a frightful appearance, dreamer or not.

A sense of relief nearly overwhelmed him as he entered the town proper. Somehow he'd made it through and arrived! This was his first chance to see a dream world town. Unfortunately, there was one little problem.

Blackthorne walked through the streets of the small town and tried to ignore the stares and occasional frightful gazes directed toward him. Mothers pulled their small children close to their skirts. Grown men eyed him carefully. It was hard to ignore, but he had to accept it. He was covered in animal gore and he was a new face in town. Those two things did not work well together in most places.

Had there been any place to properly wash off on the road other than the puddle, he would have done so. However, splashing water on his face had been the only thing he could do.

He reached the town square then looked around. Inns and taverns would probably be located somewhere near a lot of foot traffic. After wandering around like a tourist for a few minutes he noticed a patrolling guard. “Excuse me...”

The guard turned to look at him then eyed Blackthorne carefully. “Yes, dreamer?”

“I’m looking for a place called the Screaming Onion Tavern. Do you know of it?”

“What do I look like, a tour guide?” asked the guard in annoyance.

Blackthorne shook his head. “No, you look like the sort of person who knows the town well.”

“I do, at that,” said the guard. He was not more forth coming, however.

Blackthorne fought back the frown that he was dying to unleash. Instead, he said, “You also seem like the sort of person who would like to see a gore spattered traveler get cleaned up as soon as possible to avoid frightening the local citizens.”

“You think you know a lot about me, don’t you, dreamer?” asked the guard.

Blackthorne shook his head. “I’ll just wander town aimlessly, covered in rat guts and onion juice. Good day.”

The guard watched Blackthorne walk away then snorted and went back to his patrol. Why did dreamers always assume that he would be their damnable tour guide? They had feet. Why not use them?

A voice called out, “Patrolman Greene, what is wrong with you?”

Blackthorne heard the loud outcry and turned his head back to see what was happening. He was surprised to find that the massive guardsman from earlier had appeared from out of nowhere. How did he appear there so quickly?

“Captain! I...” began the surly guard.

The massive man-mountain shook his head. “Don’t give me excuses. That dreamer politely asked for simple directions, yet you treated him like horse offal.”

Patrolman Greene did not say anything in response. His captain continued. “I’m assigning you to escort him around town today.”

“Captain, that’s...!” cried out the patrolman. What kind of punishment was that?

“An order, patrolman,” said the captain without any allowance for further argument evident in his tone.

The captain pointed toward Blackthorne then said, “Get to work and escort that dreamer.”

Patrolman Greene snapped to attention then smartly saluted his captain. “Yes captain!”

Despite his reluctance to be in the presence of the repellent creature, Patrolman Greene knew better than to talk back to his superior officer. Everyone knew better than to talk back to the captain specifically.

The armored patrolman jogged over to where Blackthorne stood then ground out, “Let me show you to your destination, dreamer.”

Blackthorne nodded in agreement. He did not want to remain in the man’s presence for long, but if he was going to get a free escort out of the deal he would gladly use his services.