Deep silence was all that could be heard, floating in a sea of shadows. A calming void that seemed to go on forever. Moving images flowed through his mind all telling different stories through the eyes of the beholders. The first one, told a heartwarming tale of a common housewife, who’s love was shown bright through her smile. Doing everything she can, raising two children and keeping the house clean while her husband was away on guard duty. The second perspective was one of dullness shown from the perspective of a diligent gnomish accountant, ensuring the accuracy of financial documents and preparing tax returns in a small gray office cubicle. The third one however, told a different story entirely. This one was told through the eyes of a dwarven adventurer, and how he built a guild from the ground up. Fighting in dungeons, battle grounds and many nights with drinks of victory and revelry. Traveling to distant lands sporting a powerful axe that crackled with blue energy. The final one was that of a young orc, who sought strength and acknowledgment from his peers, thinking that wrestling was the path to success.

Oh wait, dat’s me. Durgen thought as his mind slowly cleared, as if waking from a lucid dream. With a deep inhale, he jerked himself awake once more and was promptly rewarded with a pulsing headache. He moaned out a low curse as he realized he died again. He wasn’t even sure what happened this time. He ran through blurry images in his mind, but all he could recall was being in the ring, an explosion, and a gross sucking feeling that hurt a lot. Slowly, he stood, grabbing onto something cold and hard for support as he pulled himself to his feet. That was when he noticed something was off.

He looked at where he placed his hand, thinking it was just a rock. Well, he was half-right, however, it was no natural stone. It was shaped to be perfectly flat and straight with a rounded top, about as tall as his hip. It bore markings, decorations, or even offerings. Just an oddly shaped slab of stone standing behind a rectangular patch of dirt. That was when he realized that he was surrounded by a lot of them, all encompassed by a short, ornate iron fence. Now panicked, he crouched down as he really took stock of his surroundings. It was night time still, and there were only grassy, hilly planes beyond the iron fence. Square and rectangular structures were a short walk away, with light peeking through glass windows. Shadowy figures of different shapes and sizes muddled about the streets. Durgen didn’t know where he was, but one thing was clear; this was not home. Seeking answers, he checked the notifications blinking at the bottom of his vision.

Quest Complete: Turbo Smackdown Ultra!

Description: Warboss Grig, The Gremlin Tamer, has asked if you would like to volunteer for tomorrow night’s event.

Fight in at least one match: 3/1

Rewards:

For going above and beyond the minimum requirement, you gain additional rewards.

500 XP

New Skill: Wrestling: Apprentice 1

Your access to your mana has been unlocked! Spells and mana abilities are now available to you! New Quest Received: The Red Tide

Description: Your village has been attacked! The results are unclear, but Warboss Dae’mon has given you this quest in the hopes that you would grow stronger and warn others so that they don’t share the same fate.

Rewards:

Unknown

Failure:

Unknown

New Item Gained: Dae’mon’s Pouch of Holding YOU HAVE DIED.

Durgen stole a few moments to digest this new information as he connected dots in his head. His village was attacked by… something, and he was too weak to be of any use. His mom, Dae’mon, and Squiggins could all be gone for all he knew. Then there was this new quest, he must’ve gotten it while he slipped in and out of consciousness. It had the word “Failure” on it, so did that mean it was a penalty for failing the quest? This was about his fourth or fifth quest ever, so he had no idea. What was mana? And how did he unlock it? Durgen grasped the sides of his head as he drowned himself in questions. What was he to do? Then he remembered the other notification, the one that said he got a new item. Checking his person, he quickly discovered a new pouch that was on his hip and examined it. It was made from a brown leather decorated with strips of the same material looped through colorful beads that were tipped with various feathers. The access flap is held closed by a loop around a bone. A rectangle surrounded in a circle was etched in the center.

Knowledge check: Failed!

Perception check: Failed!

With not much else he could do, Durgen undid the loop and dug his hands inside, hoping there’d be something useful inside or a snack at the very least. As soon as he did however, he noticed right away that he couldn’t feel the bottom and a new screen appeared in his vision, the word “Inventory” was ornately framed on top of a four by four grid that hung in the corner of his vision followed by a shuffling sound. Startled, he let out a yelp as he quickly pulled his hand out, this time, a muffled closing sound came followed by a zip, as if a rope was being pulled taut. Now curious, he stuck his hand back in and the same sound as before came, only this time, Durgen realized it sounded like it was in his head! He repeated the process a few more times to confirm the same sounds playing each time. Once he was done fisting the bag, he decided to check what it held. The grid was almost full and displayed different images representing the item. If he focuses on one, it’ll tell him what it was and give him a description.

Inventory

52x Orc Teeth

12x Wolf Teeth

14x Funny Sticks

4x Blitz Blunt

10x Minor Healing Potion

1x Smoking Pipe

1x 6oz Bag of Devil’s Lettuce

5x Godnroc Swiss

19x Seasoned Bacon

1x Tuft of Lint

1x Ornate Pitcher

He focused on the teeth and marveled at his new found riches. Dis ol’ grot ‘ad dis much teef on ‘em? With a thought, he felt something in his hand and an unspoken question of quantity came to his mind. He thought the number seven and something pointy and jagged filled his hand. He held out what it was and saw seven of the orc teeth. Looking back in his inventory, he noticed that the number had gone down to twenty-five and he watched it go back up when he put them back. Then he pulled out one of the curious “Funny Sticks' ' and examined it. He’d seen Dae’mon and Squiggins smoke these on their down time and their behavior was more relaxed and gigglier afterwards. Could they be a source of their power? He never got offered one but was always curious. They put one end in their mouths while they lit the small thin tail on the other. They didn’t use any conventional techniques to light it, just a snap of their fingers.

He tried with his thumb and pointer finger, barely making a sound. Then he noticed a drastic difference when he tried his middle finger, but still no flame. He sat back down on the cool dirt, his head clearing while the resurrection sickness wore off. After several attempts, he just couldn’t get it to light. He swore there was a trick to this, but he’ll get it eventually. It was just as well, as Durgen heard a pair of footsteps coming towards him.

“Hello? Is anyone there?” A raspy voice spoke. “Douglas, if you insist on playing here at night, at least carry a lantern.” Durgen held in a yelp as a flickering light peered from behind. As silently as he could, he pressed his back against the tombstone, making himself as flat as possible. The light grew brighter as the steps crept closer. “Douglas, I swear to the gods if you jump out and scare me again, I will beat your butt until it turns blue!” The same voice called out, much closer this time. Durgen didn’t know who “Douglas” was, but the speaker did give him an idea; he just wasn’t sure if it was a good one. As soon as Durgen saw a pair of feet start to walk past him, he leapt on top of the man, wrapping an arm around his neck and using his free hand to push the head into the crevice of his elbow. Squiggins called this move a “Chokehold” and Durgen got intimately familiar with it during training. The person he was holding onto dropped the source of the light and struggled in his arms. Durgen simply took a step back to pull him off balance, surprised at how easy it was to carry his victim and felt bad as the poor thing weakly clawed at his arms. Eventually, it went all ragdoll on him, so he put the thing down gently as he got a closer look just as a notification popped up in the corner of his vision.

Villager defeated! 25XP gained. (Non-lethal)

Durgen did notice that it said “defeated” not “killed” and made a mental note for later. As he suspected, it was an older male with white wrinkled skin and bushy silver eyebrows. Durgen thought he was a youngling at first with how light he was but no, he was just thin and frail from age. He was wearing a brown robe with long billowing sleeves that was soft to the touch. A thin rope held it closed around the waist. He had no tusks jutting from his bottom jaw and his ears were rounded on top. Durgen had heard of these creatures before but never saw one himself, it was an oomie!

Looking around the burial grounds, Durgen made sure there weren’t any more around. Then he checked the oomie’s breathing and was thankful he didn’t accidentally kill the poor thing. Durgen couldn’t stay here much longer. If oomie’s were as smart as they say, then chances are someone might notice that this guy is missing, and he didn’t want to be here when they do. He could simply hop the fence line, but then what? It’d just be him out in an unknown wilderness with who knows what. He gazed towards the dimly lit town brimming with life and unknown possibilities and a part of him wanted to be a part of that. There’s a good chance they’ll try to kill him on sight however, but if this guy was any indication of their strength, he is confident he can handle them one on one. But multiple? Maybe, but most likely not. He was no Bork, that’s for sure.

But there was something about the town that just drew him in, as if beckoning him in. There was a strange sense of familiarity, like he had been here before, and came often, but it couldn’t be! Up until now, he had never seen an oomie in his life! He remembered living his whole life back at the village, but there was more now. Fuzzy, almost dreamlike memories surfaced in his mind, and he knew they were his but at the same time, they were not. And the more that surface, the stronger the need to go into the town. Town? He thought to himself. He never heard that word before, but he somehow knew what it was and that he had to be there!

Stealing his resolve, he knelt down to the prone form and undid the knot of the rope belt. Thankfully, the old man was wearing a basic set of clothing underneath the robe. Durgen Inspected it, the system telling him it was a common “Priest Robe” that didn’t offer anything else apart from warmth. He threw it on and apart from being able to see his boots, it fit quite well. He pulled the hood over his face, hoping to hide it in shadow, and picked up the “lantern,” as it was called. A small candle flame flickered within, reminding Durgen about something. “Oh, yeah!” he said before pulling out a funny stick for his pouch. After undoing the latch, he held one end of the stick to the flame until it spread and started burning it, then he placed the other to his mouth behind his iron jaw, giving it a good suck.

A moment later, Durgen was on his hands and knees desperately trying to hold in a raging coughing fit. His eyes watered and his lungs burned. Desperate, he undid the straps that held his jaw in place and used the old man’s shirt to try to muffle himself, as well as to wipe the drool off his face. Once he collected himself, he glanced over to where the still burning funny stick laid. As much as he hated it, he felt that it shouldn’t go to waste. With his back against the tombstone once more, he took it more slowly this time. He still coughed quite a bit but was better able to control it. As he smoked, his head felt lighter, and he could feel his muscles relax. Everything just seemed so much more interesting. He noticed a few new icons appear under his health bar and examined them.

New buff: High level 1

Description: You are currently inebriated, and your muscles and mind are more relaxed. Words flow out easier but not always congruent. You walk with an extra spring in your step, but you don’t know where you’re going. You might not know the words, but you’re confident it would go good with cheese.

Duration: 1 hour

+5 Charisma

+5 Constitution

-5 Wisdom

-5 intelligence

Warning! Your Intelligence is several thresholds below all other stats. You have gained the following debuffs:

Debuff: George’s Strength level 1

Description: Motor control hard. Cup break when you grab it! Oh look! A fluffy little rabbit!

Duration: 1 hour

+15% chance to accidentally use too much strength in an action

Debuff: Charming Fool level 1

Description: You’re the butt of every joke, not that you’d notice. You probably don’t know what you’re talking about anymore and at this point you’re too afraid to ask. Just smile and look pretty until they walk away.

+15% chance to be mocked

“Uh-oh.” Durgen said worriedly, checking his status and winced when he saw his intelligence was currently sitting at nine. His mother had warned him about unbalanced statistics before and didn’t understand what she meant until now. Unfortunately, there was nothing he could do about it now. He turned towards the village, noting the pretty lights as he sauntered towards them.

He kept his hood up, hiding his face as much as he could by looking downwards at everybody’s legs. As long as he couldn’t see their faces, they couldn’t see him. This village seemed rectangular in nature as Durgen walked down cobblestone streets. His confidence waned as he found himself surrounded in the middle of a wide road. The oomies seemed to range wildly in size from up to his chin to down to his thigh. At first, he thought that the short ones were the children, but they were much too stout and hairy. Thankfully he still had the wisdom to not pet them.

As Durgen continued to wonder about it, he came across a street that was oddly familiar. He looked about the busy road and felt something creep in the back of his mind. He looked at the sign hanging over the building with the words “Darlington Bank” on it and a flash went across his vision. Blinking rapidly, his eyes drifted about the street, finding himself much lower than he had been. Looking around, all the buildings were different. The paint seemed fresher on most while others were in various stages of construction. There were fewer oomies now than before and they were of the tall variety. Extra tall actually, as they now towered over him. Durgen blinked once more, and the buildings were back to where they were before, all finished and now aged.

His head throbbed as a headache washed over him. He rubbed at his temples, now feeling the need for a drink. Thoughts of a golden, bubbly liquid came to his mind along with a strange instinct as to where to find some, as if something was pulling him there. Durgen continued down the street, searching for something he never knew before. As he approached the next bend, he could hear new and melodic sounds in the distance, telling him that he was getting closer. Coming around the bend as the sounds grew larger, Durgen was surprised to see a large crowd coming in and out of a large familiar dark grey building, waves of nostalgia washing over him as he read the sign. “The Barking Spider” written in plain green text on a sign just above the porch.

The same flash came once again, showing two points of views overlapping each other but showing the same subject, but in stark contrast to each other. One showed the “inn,” as it was called, for what it is now, aged and weathered. The other point of view, however, was from a much shorter perspective seeing the inn for what it once was, fresh and new. The wood being a light brown versus the dull grey. He looked down at his hands, finding that they too, were different. They were both simultaneously large and small! The flash came again as the views faded and melded into each other. He stood there dumbstruck while staring at his hands, promising to himself that he’ll never smoke a funny stick again!

Durgen shook himself out of his stupor and shrugged off someone that was nudging him, hoping that he wasn’t discovered. He walked with purpose towards the entrance, the melody growing stronger as he drew closer and soon, he could hear muffled words through the walls. He stopped as soon as he got to the door, trying to push it open but it wouldn’t budge. Not wanting to accidentally break something, he scanned the door, finding an ornate iron handle on the side right half way up from the bottom, jutting out and bent to the left and ending in a curl. He patted his head in realization while chuckling softly to himself, he was supposed to pull! Firmly grasping the handle, he meant to gently pull the door open, instead however, he pulled the handle out of the door with an audible pop.

In a panic, he slipped the handle into his pouch and walked away hugging the wall, certain that someone else would fix that. With the front door no longer an option, he walked along the side of the building, thinking he’d try the back entrance. When he turned around the corner, he was surprised by the iron fencing with pointy bits on top. He was confident that it wasn’t here before but didn’t have any evidence to back that up. So instead, he shrugged and decided to hop it, his strength was enough to easily heft himself up and over while avoiding the spikes. Now on the other side, he scanned his surroundings, finding that he was the only one currently in the backyard. There were two smaller structures to his right, those he recognized right away as the oomie equivalent of outhouses by the smell. He had something similar back home. To his left was the bar where he noticed that a back window was cracked open. He crept over, wanting to peer inside without getting spotted.

Durgen blinked at him several times to get his eyes adjusted to the surprisingly well lit room, filled to the brim with oomies. Many were sitting at circular tables, talking and laughing amongst themselves while others were jumping and dancing on the open floor. That lovely melody was playing, and it didn’t long for him to find the source. On the far side of the room stood an elevated platform with steps on both sides. Shining lights, similar to the ones from his wrestling days, showed a taller than average oomie and a much shorter one behind them.

No. He thought. Dat’s not quite roight. He realized now that calling the short ones “oomies' ' would be like calling a goblin an orc. There were just too many differences. No, these were called something else. It began with a D. “Dorks?” Naw, der… Dw…Derffs? Yeah! Dat sounds roight! Derffs! The derff was sitting behind an elaborate drum set, long black wavy hair bobbed with his matching beard as his sticks rhythmically bounced between his drums. Calling the other one an “oomie” wasn’t quite right either. “He,” Durgen assumed, was tall and lanky. Luscious golden locks framed the sharp features of his face with long pointed ears peaking through. His voice carried out the room as words elegantly flowed from his mouth, strumming an exquisitely crafted instrument. Durgen, couldn’t quite put a name on what this being was, so he decided to go with “Pointy Earz” for now. He zeroed in on him as he sang.

I hate to see you leave

But love to watch you walk away

You make my chest heave

As I watch your hips sway

You’re the one I can’t live without

This is true, I have no doubt

I love the way you smile

Too bad it’s been awhile

You must be really peeved

I wish I knew what to say

How could I have believed

That you would have stayed

His silvery words clung to Durgen’s heart. When the song was over, Pointy Earz announced that he was going to rest his voice for a bit and play some of his favorite pieces, whatever that meant. The music continued playing, only this time a translucent wall formed around them, figures dancing along the surface in tune with beat. As the music became livelier so did the screen, displaying fully detailed works of art as if they were living paintings. Together, they wordlessly told stories of struggle, warmth and heartbreak. Durgen was so hypnotized by the spectacle, that when they had finally finished playing, he realized that he had tears streaming down his face. Now he wanted a chance to meet them, a chance to get their names and just be close to them. But he knew he couldn’t, he knew that if anyone saw his face, they would turn and run. His heart sank as those thoughts occurred and doubt swelled in his mind. He tore his face away from the window and opened his appearance window. He let out a deep dejected sigh as a figure of himself appeared in a window in the side of his vision, slowly rotating in that awkward “T” pose. His green face is barely visible under his hood.

The music died down, grabbing Durgen’s attention once more and watched as everyone in the room make noises of their own by slapping their hands together and whistling like mad birds. Looking over, he could see Pointy Earz hastily giving his fancy instrument to the derff and making his way through the crowd, awkwardly shaking hands and receiving many back pats as he made his way towards him. Durgen’s eyebrows shot up as he realized he was trying to make it to the bathroom. In a panic, he quietly rushed to the darkest corner and made himself as small as possible by sitting down and hugging his knees. The doors swung open and Pointy Earz swiftly walked toward the outhouses with his back straight, his face looking strained. Silently followed by a black cat with a red band around its neck, effortlessly weaving through the door just before it closed. It sat on the far side of the yard away from Durgen. He really wanted to get up and pet the cat but didn’t want to draw attention to himself.

For several long minutes Durgen sat unmoving in his corner, pins and needles crept up from his feet until finally, Pointy Ears emerged from the outhouse staring at his hands with a concerned expression on his face. Durgen watched as he walked over to what he thought was a dead sapling spewed water to the ground. He sat there in astonishment as Pointy Earz washed his hands in the flow, running the water bubbly with a white stone looking thing. Once he finished the cat made its move, sneaking around towards him like it was stalking prey. Pointy Earz must have sensed something was wrong because he took cover behind the magic water thing, scanning the area reaching for something at his side. Not long after, he spotted the cat and it halted in its tracks. After a moment, it emerged from the shadows and let out an adorable “mew” before Pointy Earz sighed and stood.

“Hey Barby! What are you doing out in the dark? We better get you back before Bill notices.” Pointy Ears said before walking over and kneeling down and petting the cat as it weaved itself through his legs. When it went through under him it turned and quickly enlarged, leaping on top of Pointy Earz while his back was turned, pinning him to the ground.

“So you think you can get away so easily?” Said a whispered voice. Durgen blinked several times before he realized that it was the same cat as before, only now it was shaped like a person wearing dark leather armor and the recognizable red band, now also enlarged to fit the wearer. “Barby?” Pointy Earz asked, trying to lift his head. The cat quickly slammed his head back into the ground.

“Do not call me by that name!” it hissed. “I go by ‘Claw,’ not that it will matter.” It said while lifting his head and reaching a sharp claw across his exposed throat. Durgen acted before he knew what he was doing, his chest burning as he subconsciously activated his Rage. He leapt to his feet in no time, ignoring the numbness in his legs as he charged. How dare this thing kill someone with that beautiful voice and harmonic tunes? He was going to rip it apart! All he could see through crimson tinted eyes was a bug full of experience points begging to be stomped.

“WWAAAAAAAAAGH!”