《The Strangers》Chapter 1: Awake

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For all the world's unthinkable dreams, none compared to this.

His eyes fluttered open. The room was dimly lit, indicating he'd probably woken up sometime in the middle of the night. Typical, really. The day Brian Jeffries got an uninterrupted night's sleep was the day he died. Though unseasonably warm, nothing else seemed out of the ordinary.

The first indication that something was indeed wrong was the torchlight dancing amongst the walls. He didn't remember his New York apartment being lit by torches, but his sleep addled mind was ready to accept it as fact. What he saw next, however, sat him up in bed, in soft white sheet which weren't his own.

There were people everywhere. At least two dozen other beds occupied the space. The people within them stirred just as he. Now that his eyes adjusted to the light, he could see this was not his home at all, but rather a long and narrow structure made mostly from wood with stone corners. The air settled thick with humidity.

"Where am I?" Inquired a loud male voice.

"What happened? Who are you people?" Panicked a young woman.

"Mom? Mommy?" This one a boy, his voice cracking with immaturity.

"Oh God! Oh God, help!" One woman turned to a higher power.

"Everyone stop yelling, shit." This man sounded much more tired than the rest.

Brian searched the room with his eyes, gaze frantic with the confusion he kept to himself. It was too dark to make out much in the way of detail. Even the person next to him was just a vaguely human shape. The person locked eyes with him for a moment, he was pretty sure. Before saying anything, they looked away.

He grabbed the sheets beneath his hands. It felt like some sort of thin cloth, maybe linen, but definitely not silk. Brian extracted his hands to inspect the palms. These were his hands, this was his body, but not his home. At the very least, that ruled out a body swap. Maybe this was a time travel dream?

Perhaps the air provided a hint? It was warm, which ruled out anywhere near his home. Nowhere in New England was hot in the middle of October. It was also humid, even through the several burning fires which lit the place. Florida maybe? The place was certainly rundown enough.

The sound of metal on wood filled the room. More than one person screamed at the sudden disruption. Brian turned to his left and saw a door he hadn't known was there swing open. Daylight shone through, too bright for a glance at what lay beyond.

"What the hell was that?" Called a woman.

"The door opened," a man answered.

"Should we go through it?" The woman again.

"That's probably what they want us to do," said a different male voice.

"Then that's a great reason to stay here," said a man. Brian nodded agreement.

"Who's they?" Inquired a woman.

Though Brian agreed they should stay put, apparently others thought differently. Two figures, both of them men, peered through the new opening. Light silhouetted them. They lingered for a moment, and all the while silence reigned. The one on the right took a half step, hesitated, and then dove into the unknown. A few people gasped, and one called after him.

"No, you idiot!"

Brian held his breath while he waited for the brave soul to return. He didn't have to wonder long, however, as the man poked his head inside a few seconds later.

"The coast is clear, I think," he called into the room. "Just a few guards."

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"Guards?" A man wondered aloud.

"You guys should really come see this." With that, the guy outside disappeared again.

To Brian's absolute amazement, people actually listened. Not just some, either. Most of them rose from their seats and began toward the exit. Had these fools never seen a horror movie?

They shuffled in a great procession of clattering feet and shifting cloth. Brian watched them pass by his bed with eyes wide both from shock and a vain attempt to see better. In this light, all he could really tell was that some were taller than others.

"Yeah, fuck that. My ass is staying right here," said a man, one from before.

Despite his protest, the majority continued to move on outside. A few more joined them. The ones closest to the door were already gone, and more trickled out every second.

Brian saw his situation reverse with the continuing departures. If outside into the unknown was a bad place to be, then alone in a dark room with strangers was perhaps even worse. There was power in numbers, safety. His best bet may have been with the bold, rather than the cautious. Using movie logic once again, the ones who stayed behind usually turned up as corpses later. Or, came back at the end to save everyone. Somehow he expected the former.

Bereft of options and admittedly curious, Brian got out of bed. Hesitation put him toward the back of the line. He merged in front of a sorter person who smelled of flowers and cheap chemicals, which meant it was probably a girl. The room was still much too dark for proper vision.

The brightness outside blinded him for a moment. Brian put up a hand to block the sun. When his vision returned, he found himself standing upon a broad stone platform. Around him arrayed a loose congregation of people. They were normal folks just like him. A variety of races, ages, shapes, sizes, and hair styles made up the crowd. There were notably more men than women, but not overwhelmingly so.

Brian didn't inspect this crew for long, though, as below him stretched what could only be described as a medieval town. The building he woke up in sat on a hill just outside the town proper. Making it up were a great assortment of homes shod from wood and stone and thatch. There were residential areas with the structures placed closer together, a commercial district spaced more openly, and a keep of sorts on the far side. A large lake with two islands in the middle bordered the town on the left side. The hints of industry rose up around it.

"Guys," breathed someone, "where the hell are we?"

"The buildings look French, maybe German," said a man with the tone of someone trying to sound smart.

"Alright, so how do I fall asleep in Glasgow, and wake up in Germany? That sounds like a nightmare."

"Now that you mention it, I don't even remember falling asleep."

That revelation rocked through Brian as he realized he also didn't remember falling asleep. If he searched his mind, the last thing he remembered was sitting down with his friends for their weekly Dungeons and Dragons game. It wasn't uncommon for sessions to feel like a blur, but he usually remembered something. This time, try as he might, nothing at all came to mind. He rolled a natural 1, and then woke up in this strange land.

Thinking about his friends made him remember them for the first time. Maybe they had some idea what happened, and even if they didn't, it would be nice to find a familiar face. He scanned the crowd, to no avail. These people were all strangers, no more known to him than the bed he awoke in.

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"Excuse me, good sirs," Someone said. Brian turned to see an aged Hispanic man attempting to speak with one of the guards, whom he'd forgotten completely about.

The guards wore full plate harnesses, complete with visored helmets flipped up so they could see. The armor itself was simple, grey metal plates molded to fit each man and rivited where necessary. Bits of chain maille filled in gaps at the joints. It seemed the kind of armor made for function, not necessarily form. Each carried a poleaxe, as well as an arming sword at their sides.

"Citizen," one of them replied.

"I'm sorry, but we appear to be lost. Could you please tell us where we are?" Asked the old man.

"Certainly. You are in the town of Trostenwald, part of the Dwendalian Empire."

"Oh, you must be a Critter, too." The old man smiled and held up the branded lanyard hanging from his pocket.

"Do I look like an animal to you?" The guard menaced through narrow eyes.

"What?" Gasped the old man. "You're serious? Come on, this has to be a joke."

"Look for yourself. Where else would you be? The Nine Hells?"

"It might as well be," joked the other guard. They both had a good snicker at that.

Brian looked away. Those two were clearly in on whatever sick prank this was. Then again, the town before him did resemble how Trostenwald was described, from what he could remember. It even had the big lake. What was it called again, Tarrlok? No, wrong show. Furthermore, it didn't look like any sort of trick or special effect. But there's no way they were on Exandria, right? That place didn't exist.

Before he could further contemplate this, a voice addressed them. It was rough and reedy, like sandpaper going over an old piece of bark.

"You must be the new members. Allow me to be the first to welcome you to the Adventurer's Guild."

All eyes at once turned to the voice. It belonged to a man so old his skin was more wrinkle than anything else. What remained of his wispy white hair fell in a thin curtain down his shoulders. A deep purple robe cascaded along his form, lined with golden thread along the collar, cuffs, and hem. He had blue eyes, a long face, and a hooked beak of a nose.

"The what?" Asked a woman behind Brian.

"Who the hell are you, old man?" A bloke took a more confrontational approach.

"My name is Edgar. I am the caretaker of this building, as well as Overseer for the Adventurer's Guild," answered the old man.

"You keep saying that. What is this Adventurer's Guild ?" Finally, someone asked the real question.

"Why, only the most accomplished band of fighters and mercenaries in Wildemount. You all are our newest members." He looked over them for a moment. "I must say, there are a lot of you."

"Wait, you're who, exactly?"

"Do you know what happened?"

"How do we get home?"

The place erupted with questions. Edgar held up his hands in a placating gesture and, to Brian's sheer amazement, everyone actually quieted down.

"Please, I'm sure there is much to discuss, but let's not waste time out here. Come, the Meister is feeling generous today, so he has agreed to let you all pick gear from our armory. We can talk on the way."

Edgar turned and began to leave. A few people stepped toward him. A single voice from the crowd stopped them all.

"No," she denied. "I'm not going anywhere with you. I don't want to be in your guild, or whatever it is. I don't want to be here. I just want to go home. If you can't do that, then I'll find someone who can."

A few years younger than Brian's mid-twenties but quite a bit shorter, she had blonde hair and green eyes. Edgar met her intense glare with one of his own.

"Whether you follow is your choice, but to leave now would be a breach of you contract."

"Contract?" The woman shot right back. "I never signed a contract."

"Oh, but you did." Edgar fished through a robe pocket and extracted a rolled up piece of paper that shouldn't have fit. He unraveled it. "Tiffany Tailor, age 20, height 5'4", weight... well, I'll spare you that. This contract is signed in your blood and sealed with magic. The cut and runes on your palm prove as much. You all signed similar contracts."

Brian, Tiffany, and many others looked at their hands. Sure enough, he had a thick slice running down the width of his left palm. He hadn't seen it in the dark. It was a clean cut, recently scabbed over. A few arcane symbols were scrawled into the corners, carved into his skin. They glowed lowly with a bright purple, pulsing in time with the blood in his veins. He picked at them, just to make sure they were real. His nails caught the scar tissue at the same time as his stomach plummeted.

"This seal binds you to service with the Adventurer's Guild for one year. Should you break our pact, you will be hunted, captured, and brought before the Meister for judgment. The maximum punishment for desertion is death, and he is not a merciful man. While you may die in service with the Guild, you most certainly will die if you cross us. If you value your life you will come with me. So, does anyone have a death wish?"

His question lay heavy in the air. The new recruits exchanged glances with each other, but none dared look at Edgar. They were captives, serfs bound to a service they never signed up for. By his sneer, Edgar knew this. Though they all probably felt the same dissent Brian did, none spoke a word of it.

"I thought not. Come with me."

This time when Edgar turned around, no one tried to stop him. There was hesitation, but when the first person followed - a burly fellow who looked to have just walked off the set of Jersey Shore - the rest did as well. Brian's positioning placed him at about the middle of the pack. He caught a glimpse of the girl who had spoken out several spots ahead of him.

"This can't be real," a man behind him said. "I can't be in the game. This has to be a dream. Quick, someone slap me awake!"

"Come 'ere, I'll smack ya," offered the guy from Scotland.

There came a short pause where Brian wondered if either party would go through with it. His quandary was answered by a resounding slap.

"Ow! Fuck! It's real, it's fucking real!"

There were chuckles all around, including from Brian, but nothing more than that. Still, it did his heart some amount of good to have a little laugh. Anything to break the dismal circumstance, really.

"I'm glad you all are so lively," Edgar said, reminding everyone he still existed. "Like I said, the Adventurer's Guild is a band of mercenaries and fighters. In simple terms, we're sellswords, but we think of ourselves as more sophisticated than that."

Edgar led them down a staricase on the left of the building.

"But most of us aren't fighters, I'm pretty sure," a man argued.

"Many aren't when they first come to us. They seek us out for glory, fame, coin, or simple entertainment. No matter the reason, no prior experience is required to do what we do."

"And what exactly do you do?" Asked a woman.

"We accept contracts from paying customers. They give us a job to do, and we do it, mostly stuff the military either can't or won't cover. Everything from exterminating pests, to slaying dragons, and everything in between. If there's coin to be had, you can count on us. Don't worry, though. You'll be starting small. The dragons are saved for our most elite teams."

As if he'd perfectly timed the entire conversation, the moment Edgar finished speaking he reached the bottom step. A grey painted wooden door greeted him there. The others stopped behind him. From the same pocket where he found Tiffany's contract, he pulled out a long silver key. Giving it a twist inside the lock produced a loud thudding click. It swung open, key still in the lock.

"And here we are, the armory. Inside you'll find everything you need to begin your career with us. Therdin, our Quartermaster, will provide you with 200 gold pieces to purchase items. Choose wisely." Edgar stepped aside and ushered them in.

"Oh, and welcome once again to the Adventurer's Guild."

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Not a whole lot of rolling in this first chapter. Brian failed his perception check while trying to see the person next to him in the dark. The guy who first went outside succeeded his persuasion check with a 19 to make the others want to follow him. The old Hispanic man made his persuasion check when talking to the guards, but it wasn't a very high DC. Tiffany bombed her intimidation check against Edgar with a 6, whereas Edgar made his check back at her (and everyone else) with a 17. The Scottish guy rolled a 16 to slap the other dude, and did 4 points of damage, which is a pretty hefty smack!

All of these high and low rolls made things progress much more simply than I maybe would've written it otherwise, but that's the fun of writing this way. I think this will be a fascinating little experiment.

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