By the length of the journey, I guessed I was now in the dungeon below the keep. A meandering ride, swiftly followed by a maze-like descent, accompanied by the chill that only comes from thick stone deep in the earth. I’m not sure why I thought they might’ve kept me anywhere else? Perhaps because of my close proximity to one of Dawnstar’s family and the fact they thought me a dangerous spy. If I’d been an actual assassin, I couldn’t have hoped for an easier way to get near my target. Then again, an assassin would be able to extricate themselves from the prison. I wasn’t skilled in that way.

I’d had the hood snatched off as I was forced into the tiny cell. Once the door had slammed, I slumped in the corner with an almost childishly petulant harumph. I’d come to terms with their reasoning on my way down, though I didn’t have to like it. I was in utter darkness, so I summoned one of my torches and laid it beside me. There were no barred windows. No bed. No comforts whatsoever. Not even a pot to do my business in. Obviously thinking about the need to do the business triggered my bladder to ping with an I’m Full! warning. The thought of going on the floor and then having to put up with the stink for however long I was to be locked up was not appealing. Out of nowhere a bizarre idea came to me. I summoned one of the trash mugs I’d looted and turned it over in my hands.

“I wonder…”

I felt like I had litres to expel, so I played it safe and retrieved three more from my inventory. It had gotten to the point I was going to go whether I was ready or not, so I pulled my trousers down and let loose. Most of what I aimed went where I wanted. Some didn’t. By the time I was done all four were filled to brimming. The heady scent of ripe pee was quickly overpowering the cell.

“Time to see if it works.”

I selected all four mug and they vanished without spilling a drop. My inventory was now replete with four full cups of my bodily fluids and I pitied whichever administrator or intergalactic warehouseman was receiving the goods on a space conveyor belt. My imagination conjured a guy called Pob’Lak from the Blarg system gagging and calling a supervisor. I hoped it would be the push he needed to finally start studying interdimensional space engineering. At least some good would come of it.

My torch sputtered on the dank stone. Sitting down again, I almost facepalmed when I noticed the blue tinge to my minimap.

“Safe area, you dunce” I muttered. “Bart, are you there?”

“I’m here.”

Appearing across a luxurious bedroom is one thing. Appearing two foot in front of me was quite another. Even though I knew he was coming, I still flinched involuntarily.

“I don’t remember seeing anything in the world description that said I’d be locked in a cell!”

“Did you read anything that said you wouldn’t?” Bart grinned.

“This isn’t funny. They think I’m a spy!”

“Are you?” Bart made to sit down until he noticed the wet spots.

I pulled a face that warned him off. “You know I’m not.”

He leaned against the wall instead. “Then you just need to convince the people in this world that you aren’t. Did you think it was just going to be bludgeoning creatures to death with the heads of their friends?”

“You saw that?”

“We all did. That flail of yours is quite the ghoulish weapon. Perhaps try and find something less creepy?”

“Hey! It might like head, but who doesn’t? Am I right?” I laughed and held out a hand.

Bart raised an unimpressed eyebrow without high-fiving me.

“Ok, not my best gag. I still like the flail though. It might look bloody awful but it’s got me through some scrapes.”

“It’s only a matter of time until you get better weapons. Have you given any thoughts to your class and stat points yet. They’re building up.”

“I’ve been giving it some thought, and I think I’ve made a decision.”

“Oh? Do tell.”

“What combines both impenetrable armour, righteousness, and healing skills?”

Bart nodded knowingly. “A fine choice.”

I scrolled through the list of classes to have a final readthrough.

Class – Paladin

Description – Paladin’s are holy warriors, dedicating their life to the banishment of evil in all its forms. Placing chivalry at the heart of everything they do, these valiant heroes protect the weak and innocent from danger. Though versed in divine magic, warriors of light will always be at the forefront of any battle.

Failure to adhere to the highest values of propriety will result in the person becoming a Fallen Paladin.

Abilities – + 2 ability points to Combat

+ 2 ability points to Melee

+ 3 Wisdom

+ 3 Charisma

Holy Shield (Level 1)

Stoicism (Level 1)

There were further skills and spells that were locked until higher levels of paladinhood. I reread the class information and looked up at Bart. “Do you think it suits me, though? It’s not too… I dunno… pretentious?”

“Mark, I think the class was made for you. A warrior who fights for the weak. A peerless advocate for the side of good. What better choice is there?”

“A fireball wielding archmage?” I suggested.

“Could you really picture yourself in a dress?”

“They’re called robes,” I argued. “but probably not. It’s just lobbing flaming things from a distance worked out pretty well in the tutorial.”

“Against a few rats and spiders. And even some of those encounters weren’t stellar.”

“Give me a break! I was using wall torches. I bet the mana created lava balls would cause some mayhem.” I pew-pewed a couple towards Bart and he glowered at me, unimpressed.

“Are you changing your mind again?”

Was I?

“No. I feel pretty happy with a goody two-shoes. If I get overrun by enemies, at least I’ll have time to lament my choices as they try and get through my heavy armour to the soft bits beneath.”

“That’s the spirit! So…?”

I gave it one final thought. I’d loved the class throughout my gaming life. Crushing evil with divine fury. Opening my character tab, I pulled open the classes and clicked it before I could change my mind. A message popped up.

This choice is final. Are you sure you would like to pick – Paladin?

“Gah!” The confirmation question opened up the doubts again. “Bart, is there a way to undo the choice?”

“No.”

Damn! I knew that would be his answer. “Maybe I should wait a bit longer.”

“That’s not what you were saying a moment ago.”

I groaned. “Can you speak to your bosses? Add in a respec for pay option?”

“They won’t.”

“Damnit, Bart. You’re meant to help me.”

“This whole thing is about you helping yourselves. Picking for you would defeat the object, no?”

“No!” I blurted. “Picking for me would be awesome.”

“If you are in doubt, leave it. You’re not going anywhere, are you?” Bart chuckled.

I narrowed my eyes at him. “Funny, aren’t you? Have they introduced comedy clubs in your sphere yet?”

“You think I could make it on stage?” Bart gushed.

“Yeah! If you were there to sweep it.”

Bart’s smile faded. “I think I may have been hasty in saving your wretched species. I might petition to change our decision.”

“You need to grow a thick skin if you want to make it in showbiz, Bart, my son! It’s a cutthroat business and you’re always going to get a heckler or two.”

“Heckler?” his face dulled as he searched his memory. “As in the gun? That seems very dangerous in a confined setting.”

“Heckler, as in a no good arsehole who’s only goal is to trip you up and make you feel foolish.”

“I see,” he mused.

Do it now!

I did, and clicked accept on my choice. The momentary distraction of the conversation had helped. The screen faded and a swirling aura of light began to weave its way around me. A series of holy symbols formed within the golden glow and drifted towards me. I cringed, waiting for any pain they might bring. As they diffused through my skin, I felt nothing. At all. No righteousness. No divine wisdom or power.

“What gives? I was expecting to hear angels singing and shit like that?”

“They’re probably not singing because you use words like shit and fuck.”

“Whoa! Ok, censor police, I’ll come quietly. At least I don’t drop C bombs.” He made a solid point, though. I was now dedicated to a higher calling. Using casual profanity was fine when you were nearing destitution in the real world, but if I expected to inspire others to fight the impending invasion, I needed to rein it in. That would suck hard.

“Do you feel satisfied with your choice?” asked Bart.

I was overjoyed to have an immediate answer. “Yes.” It did feel good. My stealth days were largely behind me until I could allocate enough points to counteract the armour I would need. I might’ve be able to sneak up on a few enemies with chronic hearing difficulties, but the vast majority would hear me clanking along well before my blade got anywhere near their throats. There was always the option of gear switching to a lighter armour set if it was worth the hassle.

“I’m glad to hear that.”

“Is there anything you can tell me now? Anything to help?”

“I can tell you there’s someone coming,” he replied, vanishing.

At first I didn’t hear anything. Moving to the door, I pressed my ear to the wood and finally heard low, muffled voices approaching. Some of the other prisoners began to wail and moan, begging for food and water. A crack of club on the cells stilled the complaints as the footsteps reached me. Whatever held the door secure was removed and the dark wood swung inwards. The woman who stood waiting was as awesome a sight as I had ever seen. I couldn’t fully make out her face as she stood taller than the lintel. Her skin was heavily tattooed where I could see it around her leather armour. There was none of the intricate needle artwork of my world. The images were crude, depicting scenes of battle like a living tapestry. Two of the weapons etched on her skin hung from her belt. Twin battleaxes, the blades crafted from a dark stone. She ducked and peered at me through the opening, the tattoos covering her face too. Blonde hair hung over her shoulders, tied tightly against her scalp like cornrows.

I’d expected her voice to be deep and guttural. What came out was melodic and pleasant. “Where did you get the torch?”

Shit! I’d forgotten my little burning comfort blanket.

“Erm, it was already here?” I offered by way of explanation.

“Take him,” she ordered. “We’ll get to the truth in the chamber.”

Two burly prison guards slipped around her and grabbed me. I could’ve fought back and felt confident in my chances. The swirling symbols and their meaning stayed my hand. This would be resolved through calm discussion and logic, not violence.

I let them drag me away.