It was a truly beautiful day in Roslicay, there was a gentle breeze that kept the hot sun from being too temperate. It was the season of Rebirth, a sacred time to my people but the locals here in the kingdom of Tamden referred to it as “Spring”. With no small amount of effort, I wound my way through the unusually crowded market here in the large town. On occasion I got jostled here and there by shrewd townsfolk paying more attention to the wares for sale than the direction their feet took them, their thoughts focused on pitting their bartering skills against the even more shrewd merchants. The market, or bazaar as the locals called it, had numerous shop fronts that created a large open plaza at the center of the town. Throughout the open plaza were even more stalls and carts with everything for sale from clothing, to spices, to food, and even weapons.

Usually, people avoid me, partly because of the rather pungent smell that exuded from my tattered robes and shabby attire, and also due to the menagerie of animals that I towed behind me tethered to my Mule. All in all, there was the mule, three sheep, two goats, and seven chickens that milled about behind me all connected to a rope tied to the packs on the mule’s back. The animals were, well, animals, and as such, they smelled almost as bad as I did and would occasionally snag a piece of fresh food or produce from a passing stall, also as I did. I was quite a sight myself, there is no denying it. It’s little wonder that I had gained the nickname “The Wretch” over the last several decades that I’d been here. Every town that I spent any time around eventually came to the same conclusion, the same jabs, and barbs, but I really did not care. I did not really care about anything, to be honest.

I paused for a moment to let the breeze waft through the deep cowl that I wore to hide my face, cooling me while the sun’s gentle warmth wrapped my body like a childhood blanket. I closed my eyes and listened to the bustle and myriad voices surrounding me in buzzing cacophony. I then inhaled the mingled scents of cooked meats, vendor food, and fresh local produce. Despite being a wandering vagabond I truly loved the atmosphere in a town or city, not to mention that on days like today a place like this could be quite lucrative. A grumble from my stomach woke me from my reverie, and so I began moving towards my destination once again, my hand deftly darting out from under my sleeves to snag a bit of breakfast here and there. I also loved “discounted food”. Even more than discounted food, I loved “free coins”, especially when they came from haughty townspeople who made a fuss over my appearance.

Sure, I was not a pretty sight… I was hunched over, standing about five foot seven and I wore several layers of filthy, tattered woolen robes that, if memory serves me, were originally a dark slate grey. Now they were so patched together that there probably was not enough original material to even tell what they looked like originally. Let’s not forget the large bamboo pigeon rack that I wear on my back. Pigeons are such useful little creatures despite being flying rats. Granted they were filthy little things. I had a constant streak of bird droppings all down the back of me, but I again did not care. It added to the charm, right? They were also pretty decent eating if it came down to it. Some people found me amusing, not amusing in a “he’s such a funny guy” sort of way, but a “did you see that? What’s wrong with THAT guy?” sort of way. As I said, I do not really care what others think. I am who I am, and it is what it is, right?

Something felt off though today. I woke up this morning out of sorts, so I was probably a little more surly than usual, but for some reason, it felt like my fingers were not my own. I had to concentrate a little more to do things that were normally second nature. It was a strange feeling that I do not really remember having before. I had fallen asleep last night under my usual bridge outside of town, but there was a slight misty rain and the bridge did not do much to protect me from the dampness of it. To be honest, I hate rain. To me, there is nothing more miserable than being damp or having raindrops running down the surface of my skin. I would rather be cold and hungry than wet, no question about it. To make matters worse, when I woke up there was a strange spot in the side of my peripheral vision. It was there when I closed my eyes and when I opened them. I’ve been trying to ignore it all day, but every time I picked up a piece of “discount food” or picked up a “free coin” the little spot would sort of flash and then settle back down. It was still there now, and as I was musing about the joys of being damp and having strange spots in my vision when I heard a booming voice that almost made me jump clean out of my skin.

“I know you are there Wretch, I could smell you coming halfway across the bazaar. I do not want any of your creatures today, tomorrow, or anytime in the future. Do you hear? The last ones that you sold me did not have enough meat on their bones to feed a kitten.” The butcher said in the thickly accented voice. He began to turn around from his hanging rack at the rear of his stand as I looked up at him. He was a huge man with arms the size of most men’s thighs, a bald head, and a mustache that looked like someone had stitched two squirrel tails to his lip. He watched me warily as he plopped another hunk of meat onto the thick block in front of him and slammed his cleaver down through it, the sound of meat and bone being cut through punctuated by the loud bang of the cleaver hitting the block.

“Come on angry man! Surely the great Abrios can find it in ‘is heart ta helps a poor wretch in need of a decent meal and a place ta sleeps. The sheep is all nice and plump and they only walked a few leagues since I picked ‘em up, they shouldna be too tough. You can have ‘em sheared too, make some nice coin even before ya chops them up inta meat. I’ll sells you all three for two silver chips. See? I’m very generous!” I spoke in my own thick accent and a voice as rough as I looked, gravelly and uncared for. Years of breathing road dust and sleeping under bridges would most assuredly put a strain on any man’s vocal cords.

“Two silver chips? That’s all? Are they stolen?” Abrios peered at me cautiously and with another loud thud he sank the cleaver into the butcher’s block. Nevertheless, the large man came out from behind the stall to begin examining the sheep, poking them in the haunches, looking at their teeth and eyes, all of which gained him great amounts of resistance from the animals.

“Stolen? Stolen you say? Abrios, I be a poor wretch, and I may even been a beggar once or twenty times, but I ain’t no thief! They was wanderin’ in the hills alone and there ain’t no farms or other flocks so I added them to my group of lovelies and headed straight here to you. Stolen… why you don’t just call me a Dirge of Pal-Muros next time and save some breath!” My voice came out as a pitiful sneering screech of sorts as I carried on feigning offense at Abrios’ implications. As I said Pal-Muros name Abrios made a protective sign to ward off the hateful god’s followers known as Dirges.

“Very well you vagabond. I will take the sheep and all of the chickens for four chips. There will not be any bargaining or haggling, that is my offer and it is final.” Abrios reached into his pouch and pulled out a small circular silver coin with spoke-shaped indentations to separate it into ten sections. Breaking it in half and then breaking off an additional chip he held the four chips out in his open palm towards me. Once I picked up the coins the spot in the corner of my vision flared slightly again and was once again ignored.

“Why you trying to starve me Abrios? You not think that I need to eat as well?” I said as I swiped the chips from Abrios’ hand and made a growling noise. “Fine, I hope your mustache falls out and your toes rot!”

Abrios laughed at the curse and waited as I untied the sheep and chickens then handed the rope to him. Then without another word I stepped over the back of my mule, sitting as imperiously as I could manage, and began riding down the street the way I had been heading.

“Pigeons and a goat for sale! Get your pigeons! Get your goat! Pigeons and a goat for sale!” I began calling out, the chant occasionally broken up by a hoarse gravelly cough that was recently developed.

As is customary in any town of any size, there are always packs of street urchins running amok. Roslicay was by no means an exception. The most common trait amongst these urchins is a great deal of boredom and as we all know, with boredom comes mischief. Before I could get to the town gate a pack of them descended upon me like hyenas and began tormenting me with thrown rocks, jokes at my expense, and various other pranks that sent my mule spinning here and there and my arms failing frantically in an attempt to protect my more than meager possessions. After a remarkably colorful few minutes, the children had me so entangled in my leash that I could barely do anything more than sit on the back of my poor mule to keep from toppling over into the street. The people of Roslicay had spread out and encircled the display and were watching, most of them laughing at my expense, while a few others were completely disgusted. Needless to say, the commotion caught the attention of the town watch who promptly came to investigate. At the barest glimpse of the town watch, the street urchins scampered away, dissolving into the crowd. Undoubtedly, the urchins were off to find some other poor soul to torment since the watch regularly pressed idle citizens and beggars into the work gangs.

“What’s going on here?” The captain of the watch asked me while standing off a bit to keep as clear of the stench as possible.

“I ain’t doin’ nothin’ wrong. I was simply mindin’ my own business and them chilren, began torturin’ me. They got me all wrapped up in me rope and alls I can do is sit here.” I whined pitifully, unconsciously slipping even farther into a common tongue.

“I know who you are, Wretch, and I know that you have been peddling your half-starved animals here for years without paying any sort of taxes.” The three other members of the city watch fanned out beside him with their hands on their weapons. “I think maybe you should spend your time paying back these lost taxes doing some honest labor for a change. What do you think, boys?”

The approving look of the other three did not bode well at all. Fortunately, my hands were free at the elbows and I began squirming, most intent on escaping the rope as soon as I could. The thought of being pressed into a work gang was about the worst idea I’d heard in a very long time. My fingers began to twitch slightly, seeming like my nerves were about frazzled, but they were moving in a complex series of motions along with those twitches. I whispered a few words under my breath as my fingers came to a rest and said. “Surely you don’t want ta do that! Wretch pay taxes, just get tax man and all be made well yes?”

The captain’s eyes seemed to glaze just a bit as he looked at me and then he nodded. “Very well. You stay here while we fetch the tax collector, I’ll let him figure out how much you owe. Alright, boys, let's go get Marvit and see to it that this sad creature pays his dues and finds his way out of town as soon as possible.”

The Captain then turned and looked at the rest of the watch, all of whom also had the same glazed and vacant look in their eyes, and as one they turned and headed down the street. Once again, the sunspot flared only to be followed by the appearance of another at the side of my peripheral vision, so after deftly freeing myself from the rope, I rubbed my eyes but alas, the spot was still there. I began to get concerned at this point but I really needed to get out of town before the guards returned with Marvit the Tax Collector. It took only a few seconds for me to fully unravel myself, and as soon as I was untangled I trudged as quickly as my bent and decrepit body could take me out of town. Once the East Gate was behind me, I once again mounted my faithful mule with a satisfied grin and began trotting as quickly from town as the mule could carry me.

This was not an unusual day. I had been treated very much the same way in every town I entered. I tolerated it because I honestly deserved no better treatment. Most people simply called me Wretch, though that’s mainly due to the fact that few bothered to ask what my name actually was. So, from town to town I moved, sometimes peddling animals that I scavenged here and there, other times I would beg for coins. I’d been doing it for as long as I can remember, decades possibly? Once I became too known in one area I would travel to another region, kingdom, city, wherever.

A few miles outside of Roslicay I found the bridge that I had slept under the previous night and made my way back under to enjoy the spoils of the day's work. I reached into the various pockets of my robes and pulled out the fruit, bread, cheese and meat that I managed to snag here and there in the market. I also pulled out coins, rings, trinkets, and other free items that I had found in the market and placed them in various pouches and pockets that held similar treasures. I ate a small lunch and then placed the remaining food into the pack hidden under my multiple layers of robes and then laid back to take a relaxing afternoon nap.

I closed my eyes and noticed the sunspots again on the lower right side of the darkness of my mind's eye. My attention was drawn to the spot and it focused on a small grey square with rounded corners and the number nine in the middle of it in red. “That’s it, I’m goin’ nutty,” I thought to myself as I was drawn to focus my will on the image. Suddenly it expanded into a larger rectangle with a dark grey background and an orange filigree around the border. Behind the rectangle were eight other similar rectangles stacked like cards one behind the other. Looking at the top card I read the text in the center.

“Larceny +2 PIPs”

”Congratulations! You have gained two PIPs in your level 4 Larceny skill! You need 8 more PIPs before you can raise your Larceny Skill to level 5!”

I opened my eyes quickly and the rectangles were still there, though they were almost entirely transparent so that they did not block too much of my vision. I then moved my head to the right and left and they remained in the same spot of my vision. I shook his head and closed my eyes again but to no avail, the rectangles were still there.

“I’m definitely goin’ nutty.” I thought to myself, keeping my eyes closed and taking a few deep breaths I tried to will them away and just like that they shrank back into the small rectangle in the corner of my vision. I willed them to enlarge again and they expanded again. I spent a few seconds willing them away and back, away and back, away and back. I could not get them to completely go away, I could only get them to shrink. So, I willed them to enlarge again and then thought about seeing what was on the other cards under the top one. The instant that I exerted my will another rectangle appeared asking me “Do you want to dismiss this Notification? Yes/No”. I thought ‘yes” and the top one faded into nothingness and the next card took its place as the stack shortened by one.

“Larceny +2 PIPs”

”Congratulations! You have gained two PIPs in your level 4 Larceny skill! You need 6 more PIPs before you can raise your Larceny Skill to level 5!”

“What in the crusty arse crack of Pal-Muros is a PIP? WHAT IS HAPPENING TO ME!?” I shouted into the empty evening air. Again, the moment that I asked that, the spot in the bottom right of my vision expanded into another rectangle. This one had a blue metallic border and was asking me:

“Would you like to view the Tutorial? Yes/No”

“What is a tutorial?” I asked again to the bridge above him.

Again, the prompt flared:

“Would you like to view the Tutorial?” Yes/No”

“No.” I thought firmly. “I’m not going to give in to this delusion, or is it an illusion?” My mind began racing, thinking about who could possibly be targeting me. Surely the big dumb butcher would not be able to cast some illusion or curse on me. Could it be someone in the Tin Cups? They have been after me for years to pay dues or stop begging in the cities that they controlled, but nobody controlled The Wretch. I spent a few minutes struggling to get comfortable under the bridge while my mind went back through the day to see if perhaps I might remember seeing someone who could have cast something on me. As my mind wandered through the events of the day, recalling all of the faces that I had seen in the busy town, I slowly drifted off into a fitful sleep.