I think it was the cold of the floor that woke me. Or maybe it was the harshness of the unfinished stone, digging into my cheek. Whichever it was, awareness of my surroundings slowly bled into my consciousness. Chill air surrounded me, numbing my bare arms. Feeling cloudy and dazed, I slowly pushed myself up.

Where was I?

The cell—for so it was—measured perhaps three body lengths wide. The ceiling was just beyond my fingertips when I stood on my toes. In the corner sat an old bucket. When I peered in, I saw the old, dried remains of something that smelled putrid. I didn’t look any closer.

Ragged pants, torn at the knees, covered my nether regions. A homespun, short-sleeved tunic clothed the rest of me. My feet were bare, and my toes were already beginning to lose feeling from the frigid stone beneath them.

Why was I in prison?

I remembered…remembered… Everything was a blank. Try as I might, nothing came to mind. What had just happened? Who put me here? I was…

Who was I?

My chest tightened in panic, and my mind raced furiously. Who was I? My name was…was… Damn it! It floated just out of reach, like when you search for a word as you speak and it refuses to come, drifting tantalizingly away.

My name….it was…

Why was I here?

The door was made of wood. A small window in the door was positioned at eye level and covered in more wood from the opposite side. I banged on the door. Faint light seeped in underneath it--the only reason I was able to see anything at all.

“Help! Help! Where am I? Help!”

Heavy footsteps lumbered outside, and I heard a bolt slide just before the hole in the door popped open. Tiny piggy eyes peered in at me from a face out of nightmare, fangs thrusting up from its lower lip and rough pebbly skin that looked faintly green in the dim light. Though obviously inhuman, the creature’s expression was easily read, and right now it was angry.

“What do you want?” it demanded harshly.

I just stared at it. What was this thing?

“Well?” it snarled. “Answer! What do you want?”

I was speechless. How could such a thing as this exist? How could it speak?

Those piggy eyes narrowed. “Are you playing games with me? I’ll show you what happens to those who play games with Gozk!”

Another, larger bolt slid aside, and the door opened as I stepped backwards in confusion.

The creature was shorter than me but twice as thick. Muscles rippled as it slammed the door against the wall. Some type of crude leather armor covered its torso. A wooden club with metal banded on the tip hung on one side of its belt, and a knife was sheathed on the other. It pulled the club out and stepped forward.

What was this thing? I wondered. Suddenly, words floated in my vision.

Orc. Level 1

What? Orc? How could I be seeing this? What was going on?

You have learned the skill Analyze Level 1.

In my distraction, I didn’t realize that the orc had swung at me with his club until pain exploded in my side.

Orc hits you for 6 damage.

Agony blossomed on my left arm, and I fell to my knees. What were these words in the air?

“Well?” the orc roared. “What do you want?”

I didn’t know what to say, and my silence only infuriated it all the more. With a bellow it raised its club again. I cowered back and raised my arms in a futile attempt to shield myself. The club crashed down on my head. Excruciating pain stabbed my temple and for a moment I felt something break just before darkness claimed me.

Orc hits you for 8 damage. You have died.

My cheek felt cold as I slowly eased into consciousness. I groaned and opened my eyes.

I was back in the cell, lying on the floor once again. What was going on? Was I dreaming? Was this a nightmare?

This time when I pushed myself up, I felt awful. My head pounded as if I had spent a night with no sleep. My body ached. Memory returned, and I gasped and quickly touched my temple.

It was whole.

When I touched my arm and side I was uninjured there as well.

What was going on?

I felt like screaming.

I had died. At least, that’s what those words had said. Why were words appearing in front of me? That...wasn’t right. Words didn’t appear in mid air. And what did they mean? Analyze? Level?

Putting all that aside, what was I going to do? I was in some kind of prison, and it was clear to me that this was not a place in which I wanted to stay. I checked the door, but it wouldn’t open. Probably bolted from the other side if my most recent memory was correct. The wood was smelly and old but also thick and solid. I looked at my arms. I was wiry and seemed to be in reasonably good shape, but there was no way I could break that door down.

If I shouted again, I could only imagine that the same thing would happen as before. I didn’t know if I had really died or not, but it had been a terrible experience that I never wanted to repeat. I looked around the cell. Other than myself and the bucket, there was nothing.

I needed to get out which meant that I would have to face the orc again. I didn’t have much to work with, but I came up with the best plan I could.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

The sound echoed down the hallway outside as I slammed the bucket against the cell door.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

I paused and waited.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Those same heavy footsteps lumbered down once again and stopped outside my door. The small bolt slid aside, and the peephole in my door opened. I pressed myself tightly into the corner of the cell that was closest to the door. My shirt was stuffed in the crack underneath it, blocking what little torchlight had been illuminating the cell. I prayed that the light from the peephole was too directed to reveal the corners of the room. The orc hadn’t struck me as being particularly bright, so hopefully he would be confused by the appearance of an empty cell.

I heard a snort—perhaps of surprise—as the larger bolt for the door slammed to the side. The door opened, and as the orc stepped in, I leaped forward and smashed the bucket upside down over the orc’s head. I remembered that he wasn’t wearing a helmet, and I hoped desperately that his head was small enough to fit in the bucket.

You have learned the skill Hide Level 1.

What?

Then I saw those words again.

Orc. Level 1

You have learned the skill Analyze Level 1.

What? Didn't I learn that before?

The creature reacted faster than I expected, and an elbow cracked into my ribs. Its angry roar was muffled from inside the bucket.

Orc hits you for 2 damage.

Its hand was already on the club handle, and its other hand was reaching up to push the bucket off its head. Adrenaline dimmed the pain in my chest as I scrabbled for the dagger on its belt. I felt the hilt in my hand, and just as the bucket was whipped off the orc’s head, desperate energy propelled me forward as I shoved off the ground with all my strength. The knife stabbed under the orc’s chin with the full power of my legs thrusting upward.

CRITICAL HIT! You stab Orc for 8 damage!

You have learned the skill Small Blades Level 1.

The orc stumbled backwards and fell down, the club falling from its suddenly nerveless grasp. My hand was tight on the knife handle as it was yanked out of the orc. The ugly creature choked and grasped at its throat. Warm fluid spurted onto its arm.

Orc is bleeding and takes 3 damage.

Orc has died! You gain 250 EXP.

I stood there gasping and looked down the corridor to see if anyone had heard the noise. No one appeared. I was lucky to have stabbed it in the throat. It had been unable to cry out for help. At my feet lay the disgusting creature, green and pockmarked, with brutish fangs sticking out of its mouth and tiny, piggy eyes. It was dead, and I had killed it. The blood that had gushed out of its neck after my thrust had slowed down to a dribble, now that the heart no longer beat to pump it out.

I threw up.