《Tales From Lower Hampton》 Paragon errant It all needed to burn. That was the only thought running through Lillian¡¯s head as she piled all the furniture in the middle of the room, having the presence of mind to put the bigger pieces near the centre - they would catch the slowest and burn the longest, extending the life of the flame. She backed away from the pile, her eyes wild as she took in the sight before her, her entire life, her schoolbooks, their clothes, their knick-knacks, their shared memories, and at the centre was his favourite object in the world - his computer. The thing that had consumed his waking hours for months at a time, testing the bonds of their relationship repeatedly. She laughed bitterly at the thought, their relationship as if it had ever been anything more than her clinging to false hope that it would be better this time - that he would be better this time. It hadn¡¯t started that way, of course. Once upon a time, they were in love and happy, he was working in IT and she was studying to become a social worker. That was before he had met the person who ruined everything for them. Lillian didn¡¯t want to think about her. Not now, not ever. All she wanted to do was to burn it down like he burned their relationship to the ground. She shook her head, seemingly coming out of a trance, and picked up the can of gas she had bought for this specific purpose. She started splashing it liberally over the pile of their belongings, leading to the doorway so she could light it without getting caught in the flames herself. She knew what she was doing was crazy, that she¡¯d go to jail for a long time, she just couldn¡¯t bring herself to care. If the ship was going down, the captain was going with it. Carefully, she walked around the pile one more time to double-check everything had been added and doused liberally with the gas. As she drew near to the door, she fished out the lighter from her pocket and started fiddling with the mechanism, she didn¡¯t want to fumble at the last second and lose her nerve. That did mean, however, that she wasn¡¯t looking where she was going and couldn¡¯t see it when her foot landed, and slipped, on a stuffed toy that he had given her. She lost her balance, dropped the just-lit lighter right on top of the trail she had made, and fell back onto the pile of furniture and belongings. Trying to right herself, she placed her other foot down underneath her, heavily, and managed to put it through one of the ugly bedside tables his mother had given them. The movement in the pile caused it to shift, the other bedside table pinning her leg inside its brother. Dark smoke had started to form from the gas-catching fire and eating away at the pile. Lillian was starting to panic, taking big gulping breaths of the smoke as she struggled to wrestle her balance back, but the angle of her stuck leg was causing her muscles to contract painfully, making it impossible. She ended up kneeling on the pile precariously while she tried to push the bedside table away from her side. Not an easy feat at the best of times, but the panic rising in her as well as the smoke starting to fill her lungs made it feel like pushing a boulder up a mountain. Again, and again she tried, getting more and more frantic as her throat began to burn from the smoke, and she started coughing; great, big, hacking coughs that shook her whole body. She was laser-focused on this one task, this one moment of desperation as she tried to free herself, so much so that she was only dimly aware of her mind starting to fail her and her head starting to spin. Flames were leaping all around her now, some even licking against her skin. Her desperate attempts to free herself were getting weaker and weaker as she realized that she was going to die. It wasn¡¯t acceptance that settled upon her thoughts, it was annoyance - no, rage - she hated him, she hated that she¡¯d loved him, she felt so stupid for how things ended up, she had a plan, and she¡¯d messed it up. Curses started coming out along with the coughs, all the while she still pushed weakly on the now warm bedside table. This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it. It was the rage boiling over that did it, in one inhuman burst of strength she managed to get the bedside table off her leg, but she was too weak to lift it out. She collapsed back, coughing weakly, onto the pile of their life together burning steadily as she succumbed to the bliss of unconsciousness. Lillian was lying down, that much she could tell. However, she wasn¡¯t, not really, because she couldn¡¯t feel the familiar pressure of a surface pressing against her back. It was like she was floating horizontally, like in a pool, but that wasn¡¯t right either. She tried standing up and her mind snapped upright, there was no call and response from her brain to her muscles. Her thought resulted in instant action. It felt oddly disconnected and it made her uneasy, like she wasn¡¯t entirely all there at that time. Looking around, she saw that she was in a white room with no doors or windows. She also noticed she couldn¡¯t see her body, almost like she didn¡¯t have one, but that wasn¡¯t right, she could feel her arms and legs and could sense where they were. She was not here in the literal sense of the word; it seemed like only her mind had been moved to this space. The whole thing felt wrong to her, and she got the sense she wasn¡¯t supposed to be there. In fact, wasn¡¯t she supposed to be burned alive on a bonfire she made from the mess their lives had become? That thought brought up so many emotions, but the feelings were distant and removed from her body. It felt almost like echoes, aftershocks of a life she was no longer connected to. As she was pondering the philosophical ramifications of the afterlife just being a white room, a table rising through the floor interrupted her thoughts. It was a featureless black, with the standard 4 legs and a large tablet sitting on top of it. Wanting to investigate, Lillian moved in that strange, disconnected, instantaneous way over toward the table and saw that the tablet had started a video. It looked like an infomercial for a tropical resort, featuring sweeping shots of beaches, and luxurious vistas, complete with a male voice talking about the various amenities this resort had. She tuned it out almost immediately, thinking that it would get boring living in the lap of luxury all day, every day. It¡¯s not for me; I don¡¯t have a stick that far up myself. Something in this weird space must have noticed the lack of attention, because the male voice cut out suddenly, and the video was replaced by a question with multiple answers. Who are you?
  1. A leader
  2. A soldier
  3. A poet
Lillian wasn¡¯t any of those, she didn¡¯t have any leadership capacity, and she hated telling anyone to do anything. She also wasn¡¯t just a follower, a good little soldier doing as they were told. A poet was what would fit the best, she assumed, but she also was not very creatively minded, preferring a good schedule and lists above freeform thinking, she wasn¡¯t going to choose any of them. Again, this odd space seemed to respond to her thoughts and the question changed, without an answer. Who do you wish to be?
  1. Ranger
  2. Rogue
  3. Warrior
  4. Cleric
  5. Hunter
  6. ¡­
The list went on and on, listing every RPG class Lillian had ever heard of. This intrigued her, she had always been a gamer. Would it put her in a game world? Would she get to live out a fantasy story? One class stood out to her - Paragon Errant. The word errant implied that it wouldn¡¯t be tied down or beholden to anyone, but the inclusion of Paragon is what interested her. To her, the word meant someone who was above and beyond anyone else. What does it mean to have those two words together? Ever helpful and responsive to her thoughts, the option expanded to give a brief description.
  1. Paragon Errant
Committed to the upholding of the sanctity of life, the Paragon Errant protects and supports their community from the shadows. They claim no guild allegiance and therefore have no oversight and no protection. Beware the fool that treads down this path lightly. With that vague instruction, Lillian had no idea what the class even did, did they use any magic or weapons? Nevertheless, she was still interested, the ¡°not having a guild allegiance¡± part implied that guilds were an important part of this world and not being a part of that whole deal seemed like it would be a good idea to her. The commitment to the sanctity of life reminded her of religions and cults but it was, ultimately, an ideal she agreed with. The warning at the end was worrying though. Would it be hard to do? Would people come after her for it? Would it give her the tools she needed to face those who would try? Lillian quickly skimmed through the list again, her eyes catching only on that same option. It felt right, to choose that one. She reached out and tapped it with her weird not-really-there finger. Newborn The light was shining in her eyes, and she raised a hand to shield them before groaning and slowly opening her eyes into a squint. She was actually lying down this time, on the dusty wooden floor of a rundown building, the wood in the floor and walls were starting to rot and light was coming from the sun shining through a partially collapsed roof. Sitting up, she disturbed some dust which ended up swirling around her for a second before settling. Lillian looked over herself, genuinely surprised to not see horrific burns all up and down her body. However, she was wearing strange clothes that looked like leather armour but were far less rigid. It was a dusty brown tunic over leggings that looked only a shade darker than the tunic but seemed to be made of a sturdy linen, by her reckoning. Her boots were black and came up to about calf height, looking to be made of the same soft leather as the tunic. It was, overall, a pretty comfortable outfit while still offering a bit of protection. Thankfully so, as she did not know what sort of things she would encounter here. The style looked like something a peasant from the medieval period would wear, and she guessed that was the sort of time period she was going to be dealing with here. Thinking back to her long sessions of Dungeons and Dragons with friends, she may have to deal with some sexism, racism and classism, depending on the setting. Those were some thoughts for another day though, once she was safe. Standing up, she attempted to get her bearings. This room was old and very obviously abandoned, so why would whatever the bland afterlife was going on in that white room drop her off here? It looked like it wasn¡¯t the most expensive place as well, even in its heigh day. The room she was in was just a floor, 4 walls and the half fallen down roof. At least it had a door, that looked just as rundown as the rest of the place, only being held up by the top hinge and the latch. She walked over to the door, kicking up more dust, and realised that was wrong, both sides of the door were being held up, both sides holding up the other as they rested on their respective fastenings. One gentle push and the door would just collapse, she guessed. It was time to figure out what she was doing. She needed a plan, so she didn¡¯t starve or dehydrate to death. She moved back to the spot she woke up at and started drawing in the dust. First things first, water, food, and shelter. Then a way to protect myself. The first would be easy if this town had wells or public sources of water, less so if it¡¯s a river or another fresh water supply, double that if the only source of water was an ocean. Food could wait a few days, she felt full enough for now, if she conserved her energy, she would be fine until she found something. Shelter was going to be rough, she didn¡¯t have the skills to make something rudimentary for herself, so she¡¯d have to find it. She drew in the dust a water drop with a 1 beside it, an apple with a 2 beside it and a tent with a 3 beside it. If this was truly a new life in a game world like the classes offered in the white room suggested, she needed to get stronger very fast. In the dust, on top of the other drawings, she drew a tiny sword and put 1a beside it. As she looked for water, she would have to look for a weapon or anything else that she could defend herself with. Lillian stepped back and admired her shitty dust plan and put her hands on her hips. Her left hand brushed something hard strapped to her upper thigh. Pulling up her tunic hurriedly, she noticed that it was a small, mean looking dagger. It was strapped to her thigh at the top and bottom, with the bottom having a small cup that covered the point. Hanging off the strap, as well, was an oiled leather water skin. That was easy. Now all she had to do was to figure out how to use it. That wasn¡¯t important for now, though: she needed to find a source of clean water. From the fact she didn¡¯t notice the weight of the water skin on her thigh, it was obviously empty. Letting the weight of it rest on her hand confirmed this, and she noticed the oily leather had a weirdly smooth, almost slimy texture to it. Was it freshly made? Everything on her person looked brand new, did she just happen to get a new set or was it made specifically for her? The outfit certainly felt like it was, fitting her perfectly. Did someone dress her? She didn¡¯t like the thought of being touched while technically dead. She thought it was ok though if the stuff just appeared on her. Shaking her head to get those distracted thoughts away, she resolved herself to step outside and see what was out there. She could worry about the existential crisis that she was seconds away from later when she was safe, watered and fed. Lillian strode purposefully over to the bisected door, getting her hand on the door before her resolve faltered, her mind spiralled into more and more ways she could be hurt, tortured, maimed and killed, and the anxiety of the situation before her took hold. Her breath hitched and quickened, and she was sure her eyes went wide and wildly darted around. This was an unfamiliar place, in an unfamiliar time, if her outfit had anything to say about it. No one she knew or loved would be here: if they even had existed in the first place. She was utterly alone and out of options, for the very first time, and her mind had balked at that fact. She always had a plan, a way to achieve her goals, even if the steps to get there seemed small and meaningless to others. Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site. Clenching the hand on the door into a fist, she fantasised about smashing the door to pieces. It would be easy; it was already on its last legs and the slightest bit of force would probably shatter the remains of it. She brought her fist back, ready to deliver the final blow but stopped, breathing heavily, after getting the image of a giant rotted splinter embedded into her knuckles. There was no way she could find medical supplies advanced enough to cure an infection, if her assessment of the time period was correct. The pause in her racing thoughts grounded her and allowed her to control her breathing, she held onto that for a long minute, steadying herself. It was no use panicking when what she needed to do was survive. After Lillian regained her composure, she shoved the two halves of the door apart and took a step outside. Above her was the sun, high in the sky, shining down on a dirty cobble road beneath her feet. She was standing on a narrow road, fenced in with buildings, only broken up with more narrow roads. The buildings all looked as decrepit as the one she came from, with many not even having the false door that hers had, opening onto dark musty interiors. The whole place looked abandoned. Wind swept along the road, carrying with it the smell of water, there must be a water source nearby. Lillian headed towards the smell, excited to be able to cross another thing off her to-do list. Quickly she realised that her feet were not used to the harsh cobble road, that or the soles on her leather boots were not the best. She could feel every surface and edge of the cobblestones as she walked, and she could tell that her feet would be killing her if she had to walk for long periods of time in these shoes. Luckily, the water source had turned out to be a big well in the middle of what looked like a town square. Unluckily, there seemed to be several humanoids making guttural moans shambling around the square. Lillian heard the noises before she had turned the corner of the last building, so she had stealthily crept around the building and poked her head around the corner. The humanoids wore tattered and dirty rags, strangely all appearing to have once been white robes, now grey and black from dirt and blood. A couple seemed to struggle to keep their heads upright, lolling to the side or the front. They all shambled hunched over, only maintaining balance through the act of movement itself. She counted 3, one was loitering around the well itself while the others were further out in the square. She couldn¡¯t make out individual features from this distance, but just looking at them made her uneasy and her anxiety start to bubble up again. Shit, she cursed quietly, praying that none of them had seen her as she darted back behind the building. They just had to be zombies, this whole thing just had to be a zombie game, didn¡¯t it? She needed to get to that water, if there was a well here it meant that a different water source was miles and miles away and she didn¡¯t have the time to track one down, considering she had no idea how long she was out for. She looked around, hoping to find something she could use as a distraction, when her eyes caught on the building across the road from her. This one had shingles, small interlocking pieces of brick, and they were loose. Depending on her strength she might be able to throw them far enough to get the zombies away from the well and the roof would give her some protection if her plan backfired. The whole building was brick, and she could very easily see handholds all the way up. In fact, it was the only building she had seen that didn¡¯t look too damaged, it was significantly bigger than all the others as well. Maybe it¡¯d be a good place to hide out after she cleared out the zombies. Having made up her mind, and not with a little trepidation, Lillian ran as quietly as she could over to the brick building. She silently thanked the boots on her sore feet, it was probably the only reason she was able to be this stealthy. Grabbing onto one of the handholds she had spied before, she started hauling herself up the side of the building, having a surprisingly easy time of it due to her prior thoughtfulness, although the actual act of pulling herself up felt easier than her past life as well. At least this body would be stronger. The hardest part was scrambling onto the roof without knocking any of the loose shingles, and as she got to about the halfway point, that worry was warranted, as a shingle gave way underneath her foot. In a burst of inspiration, she moved and shifted her balance so that her other foot could pin the offending shingle to the roof, managing to get it just before it went out of reach but creating a lot of noise in the process. Her heart and body froze, listening for the creatures characteristic moaning. They had fallen silent, but she couldn¡¯t hear their shambling movements either. A long moment passed with her heart fluttering in her chest and her eyes wide, not daring to move further, until the moment was broken by the moans of the zombies starting back up. They were significantly louder than before so she assumed they had been attracted by the noise but could not see her position on the roof. Ever so slowly, Lilian edged more of her weight over so that she could grab the loose shingle from the roof. If she was going to do some distractions, might as well start with the one that almost gave her away. The Water Gambit The shingle in her hands stared back up at Lillian grumpily. It didn¡¯t really, being an inanimate object, but she imagined it really didn¡¯t like her, for some reason. It was probably because she was thinking about throwing it to the imaginative wolves, which were actually zombies. She shook her head, personifying a roof shingle was not going to help her survive in this place and it damn sure wasn¡¯t going to help her get some water. She stood up but kept one hand on the lip of the rooftop, she remembered something about always having three points of contact when working on slopes. She couldn¡¯t remember where she had heard it though, probably from her father, he always had little nuggets of wisdom to dole out. The sudden memory of him threatened to knock her on her ass again, she would probably never see him again and it was entirely her fault. She kept her breathing steady though as she really did not need to deal with her emotions right now when she was on top of a roof, above some zombies. She scrambled over to the edge of the building, slightly hunched so one hand could hold onto the roof and the other could carry the shingle, against her chest. The zombies had started walking towards her, drawn by the sound but they didn¡¯t look up at all, so she concluded they probably were not intelligent. Lillian heaved the shingle up while she quickly scanned the square for a good place to throw it. There was a lane that stretched off to the left. She could also see that the building she was standing on took up the entire block, there was no building beside it. That was probably a good place to throw it, not too far and the building itself would block sight lines. She held the shingle up higher and braced herself against the roof edge and ended up going with a shotput stance, holding the shingle with one hand near her face and using her full body to throw the shingle into the road. Immediately two things happened at once: the zombies turned towards the sound, betraying a speed that they hadn¡¯t shown before, and Lillian¡¯s foot, slightly raised from the throw itself came down onto the edge of the roof and found no purchase. A surprised gasp left her mouth just as below her the zombies shambled quickly towards the sound. One of them let out a gasping warble, the sound was very loud and echoed through the dim, dilapidated streets. Immediately Lillian tried to right herself, leaning forward in a desperate gamble but her wild movements connected with nothing, and her foot flew past the edge, her leg following very soon after. Her swing forward did manage to make something connect with the roof, but that was her chest as she smashed down, knocking the wind from her lungs. She started sliding, the one leg that had managed to stay upright betraying her and slipping over. Even more frantic scrambling for any handhold made panic rise in the throat bereft of air. Finally, as her chest was about to pass the edge, she managed to grab something with her left hand. Her right soon followed just as all her weight came off the roof and she dangled from her hands. Her shoulders hurt and she was really struggling to get her breathe back, whether that was panic, the exertion or just plain being winded from the fall, she couldn¡¯t tell. Her first few breathes scalded with a sharp pain that left her hissing, gods, she hoped her ribs weren¡¯t broken. She decided to set aside the pain for now, even with modern medicine, ribs were not easy to heal. She looked up and realised that the thing that caught her fall was a sign, hanging on a single chain. She couldn¡¯t read the script, but it looked like some kind of official building, better yet she could see a safe way to get down from the sign, a chain hanging from the other side of it. All she would need to do is follow along the edge of the sign and down the chain. It would hurt like a bitch, but it was doable and safe. Lillian was right about the climb down hurting like a bitch, each movement drew a sharp hiss as her abused shoulders cried for relief. It was agony but she had to keep going, she had no idea how much longer the zombies would be distracted, and she needed water. Finally, after a few moments, she dropped to the ground and immediately rolled her shoulders back to test her range of movement. Even though it was painful, her shoulders were able to complete full rotations which meant nothing was dislocated, her basic training in first aid coming in handy. Her chest still burned with each breath, so something was definitely wrong, but she was breathing fine besides the pain so she decided that could wait. The important thing now was not to waste the time she had bought herself with that manoeuvre. She sprinted across to the well, and a quick inspection showed that the bucket was already down so all she needed to do was to bring it up. The spinning handle was on the side that faced the building she was standing on top of, so she positioned herself where she had a clear view of the road the zombies went down and started turning the handle. It was relatively easy, with her new strength and she could see the bucket by the time she heard groans heading her way. She grabbed the bucket when it was almost at the top but froze when she heard a footfall to her immediate right. That was not the way the zombies had gone. Just as she was having that thought, her body was thrown to the ground by something tackling her at high speed. The only thing she saw of the creature were huge bloodshot eyes, surrounded by a shrivelled, human looking face and a mouth covered in blood and missing teeth. It gave the creature a very uncanny valley look, and caused the panic to start rising in Lillian again. She tried to struggle out of the hold but couldn¡¯t stop the head from opening its mouth and digging its teeth into her shoulder. The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. In that moment of sheer pain and frustration, Lillian¡¯s body, mind and soul responded at the same time. Her free hand reached over and touched the zombie, not to push but just to make contact. Her mind was spiralling into panic, flight winning over and her entire being screaming to flee. Her soul, the pit sitting in the base of her stomach, rose up in response to her mind¡¯s plea. It came bubbling out from her stomach and travelled along her arm, sitting atop the zombie¡¯s skull. It was a glowing light, seeming to spread along her veins and when it got to her hand, the zombie on top of her exploded. The light didn¡¯t stop there, it kept on growing, coming out her hand until she was in a sphere of pure golden light and she was in the centre. The glow and the wave of force had come from her, but she didn¡¯t even know how she did it. When she wanted to turn it off, when her heart had started beating normally again, the sphere exploded into golden spears that rained down around her and disappeared. She looked at her arm, the golden veins were still there, slowly fading. She felt something fall onto her leg and looked down to see the lone leg of a zombie laying on her. There was nothing left of the one who tackled her so this must have been another one. There was no blood, the leg was oozing some sort of green liquid though. Lillian pushed it off with disgust and stood up. Strewn all around her were more zombies, their bodies riddled with holes, she assumed it was from the spears of golden light. Inspecting one, she realised the holes did not have any markings or any indication about what happened, the flesh was just gone. This worried Lillian as the only thing she knew right now is that she had done it, something within her, her soul, had reacted to a desperate plea. There was no obvious way to control it, and she didn¡¯t want to accidentally hurt someone. In fact, looking around her more thoughtfully now, there had to have been almost 20 zombies, and she had taken them out just like that. It was all she could do not to cry as she felt the weight of the emotions crash down on her, it was too much anger and sorrow. After a moment, she decided she needed to pull herself together, she needed to finish what she came here to do, and based on the number of dead zombies she may have just cleared the local area of them. She turned back to the big brick building and noticed the big double doors on the side facing the square, she hadn¡¯t been able to see them earlier, but the doors did in fact look intact, so it was probably the best place to get some rest. Upon having that thought, a bone deep weariness fell on her like she had run a marathon. She brought the bucket back up the well and filled up her water flask before heading towards the brick building, picking her way gingerly over bodies and wiping away tears. The doors looked even more sturdy up close, in fact she could not actually see a way to open them. Luckily, she did spy what looked like a window with shutters on the second floor that looked slightly ajar. The brick was starting to erode so there were plenty of handholds to get up there and she was pretty sure the zombies couldn¡¯t climb so it would be perfect. The climb up was harder than she expected due to shoulders still being sore from the forced pull up, but she managed to make it to the window she saw and confirmed that the shutters were in fact loose and could be opened easily. Behind the shutters it looked like a murky glass had been smashed from the inside, glass debris still smattering the sill. From the window, all she could make out of the room was a large desk in the centre of the room and bookshelves lining the walls. It looked like an office of some kind, not out of place in an administration building that she thought this was. Lillian used the edge of her tunic to brush the glass away from the windowsill so that she could enter and exit safely. Once she deemed it safe enough, she climbed through the window and jumped lightly to the floor. Getting a good look at the room now she was inside, it was definitely an office like she thought, however, something near the wall she had just come through looked awfully like a shrine to some kind of deity. On top of a small column a statuette of a slender woman stood, with a small bowl in front of her. Lillian was not religious, but it seemed rude to enter without making some kind of offering, just in case. She didn¡¯t have anything except her water so decided to just tip a small amount into the bowl and to make some apologies. ¡°Hey pretty lady I don¡¯t know the name of, I¡¯m sorry I¡¯m intruding on this place. Please accept this offering of the only thing I have to my name right now.¡± It felt weird to talk out loud to a statue but at least she felt better about just entering this place now. Taking more of a look around, Lillian could not see anything that would be out of place in an office, the desk was clear, but it had a stool next to it and she could see some drawers. The bookshelves had some books on them but she couldn¡¯t read any of the spines so she assumed that she wouldn¡¯t be able to read the insides too and dismissed them. By the door there was what looked like a coat rack with cloths hanging up. What was odd was that the whole place was free of dust, she hadn¡¯t noticed before, it looked like it had just been cleaned a minute ago. Everywhere she had gone today since waking up had a thick layer of dust covering it, like no human hand ad touched it in years. The room did of course have an exit door as well, but that was blocked with a bolt lock. Lillian thought that was weird, but she felt safe here for the first time since she woke up, her gut had led her this far, so she decided to trust it and get this place setup to sleep. The cloths by the door should probably make a warm spot to sleep if not a comfortable one. She started taking them off the hooks and shaking out non existent dust, only to discover that the cloths were robes, the kind that is just a big rectangle and you had to tie closed. Would be useful if she needed to cover up at all, so she kept one aside from the sleeping spot she was making. Taking a peek outside, it was already evening time and Lillian was exhausted from the day¡¯s excitement, so once she had made the sleeping spot and had a long drink of water she laid down and was out like a light, despite the uncomfortable position. Reflection Lillian didn¡¯t dream, instead an endless loop of the day played in her mind. Waking up, finding the well, distracting the zombies, and the weird golden orb she had made inadvertently. Eventually, Lillian started noticing flaws in her plans, the original drawing in the dirt didn¡¯t account for enemies besides finding a weapon. When she noticed that detail, the event stopped replaying and the memories started again from her finding the well. She noticed, in that memory, that there were more zombies shambling further down the road, and she even recognised the one that tackled her briefly walking between buildings. When she noticed it, that memory also dropped out of the rotation. Was she being shown these so she could see her mistakes? The next one is easy, she had slipped off the roof due to poor footing. When she watched the memory back closely though, that wasn¡¯t the case, her foot had connected with a shingle on the edge, but it was one that was visibly loose, so when her foot touched it, it just gave way. That memory too fell out of the rotation, confirming her theory. The last memory was the weirdest, she couldn¡¯t tell exactly what it was trying to tell her, It was the moment that she had created the golden sphere. After a few moments of watching those few seconds repeatedly, she started to feel that same pit in her stomach bubbling up, but it was not the torrent that she commanded earlier, it was a trickle, an echo of what she had experienced. She just was not getting what it was trying to tell her. She tried to focus on that weird sensation, focusing on it made it more intense and closer to what she had felt earlier but it still paled in comparison. Lillian got frustrated with the lack of direction and the vagueness of it all and lashed out, screaming. ¡°What is even the point!¡± Lillian would be tearing her hair out if this wasn¡¯t a dream. The memory paused at the moment her hand connected to the zombie, and she finally saw it, a hand resting on top of her own, barely visible but definitely there. The hand looked feminine, and the one distinguishing feature was, what looked like, a loaf of bread stretched out on the back of the hand. Suddenly, the memory faded, being replaced by what she could only describe as a character sheet. She was staring at a reflection of herself surrounded by stat blocks and skills.
Stat Type Value
Vigor 4
Resolve 6
Fortitude 5
Heart 6
Lillian had no context for what the numbers there meant, and the stat names themselves were so vague, Resolve could be affecting anything that required effort. The skills were ordered under their stat types so at least that gave her some context.
Vigor Skills Value Resolve Skills Value Fortitude Skills Value Heart Skills Value
Basic First Aid 2 Basic Conduit 1 Basic Learning 3 Empathy 5
Basic Running 2 Basic Reflection This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon. 2 Basic Reasoning 3 Charm 5
English 5
Vigor looked like it was body related, Fortitude was her mind and intelligence, and Heart looked like it was social ability. Resolve still confused her, though, reflection felt more like a skill that should be in the Fortitude category. There was something else along the top if the ¡°screen¡±. Reflection Points: 3 Lillian wanted to know more about the points and what they did, so she instinctively reached out to touch the words. Her movements felt disconnected, like she was in that weird white space again and it was still a very odd sensation to move without movement. The action worked, however, and a small box popped up with a description.
Reflection Points
Earned each night in the reflection ritual, reflection points can be used to improve or add skills and to raise stats.
That answers her question about Reflection, it was the part of her dream that showed her the memories from the day. The name made sense now. There was one more thing she was curious about, so she touched the Resolve skill.
Resolve
Resolve is the measure of strength in the spirit.
Lillian couldn¡¯t think of any RPG she had heard of that used spirit as a base stat, let alone had an entire level up system based on it. From what she could tell, the reflection skill allowed her the opportunity to relive her day and see details she had missed. This day it showed her the mistakes she had made and the spectral hand that guided her when she made the golden sphere. She just could not see the way those things connected. That was something she could worry about later, however, as what she really needed to do right now was spend the points she had gained. She thought about her situation, she was in a new world, surrounded by zombies and had no context for if that was normal, or even if anyone would be alive in the vicinity. She needed that context to survive. Tapping on the screen seemed to be the way to interact with this new system so she did just that, hoping to see if tapping on Fortitude would bring up anything. It definitely did, the box open in front of her now filled with thousands of lines of skills, all starting with ¡°basic¡± and having a one beside them. At the top though was a shorter list of only 5 skills.
Recommended
Basic Common: 1
Basic Environment Awareness: 1
Basic Survival: 1
Basic Threat Assessment: 1
Basic Mechanics: 1
Lillian knew common was the language just about everyone used in D&D so she tapped on that one and brought up another little box.
Basic Common
Cost: 1
This language is a mishmash of ancient and modern languages used by most of the current population of Lower Hampton.
Accept Decline
Perfect! Lillian tapped accept and the confirmation box closed. The other basic Fortitude skills didn¡¯t really interest her at the moment, so she decided to just back out to the character sheet. The only skill that wasn¡¯t clear what it would do is the Basic Conduit one, so she tapped on it, bringing up another box.
Basic Conduit: 1
Being a conduit means capturing and releasing the energies of the soul. At a basic level one can move and capture energies only.
Upgrade?
Cost: 2
Accept Decline
It was 2 points to level from 1 to 2 in the skill. She wondered if she was going to be able to train skills without actually spending points. That would mean she didn¡¯t waste point on an easy skill to train up. She could test that theory during the day though, so she backed out of the box. She wondered if the cost went up based on the level and tapped on one of her highest skills.
Empathy
Empathy is the understanding and interpretation of other people¡¯s emotions and thoughts. At a base level, the empath can more easily engage with people who are experiencing high levels of emotion. This does however mean that the empath is more influenced by the negative emotions of others.
Upgrade?
Cost: 8
You do not have enough points to upgrade this skill.
Lillian didn¡¯t like that last part of the skill, but she had always been a sensitive soul, influenced emotionally by the people around her so this was probably the system making sense of her own nature. The cost was much higher than levelling Conduit, she assumed that was to discourage levelling skills by buying them. She needed to experiment to figure out what the best way to do things was. For now, she wouldn¡¯t spend the rest of the points. When she had the inkling that she wanted to back out, another box popped up.
Leave Life Overview?
Yes No
Lillian tapped on the yes and watched as the screen in front of her went dark. The Morning After Lillian woke up feeling refreshed, discovering she had tangled herself up in the makeshift bedding during the night. She could barely see the rest of the room, with only a small amount of light coming in from the window so she guessed she had woken up early. Untangling herself from the togas, she had the rest of her water, resolving to get some more before she left to try and get some food. Thinking of food made her stomach growl, as if summoned. It was going to be rough trying to find anything out here, she had not found any source of life at all in the area, beside the strangely untouched room she was in now. It may have something to do with the shrine by the window, she questioned whether a god would care about keeping a place of worship clean though. When she had put the water in the bowl, she hadn¡¯t felt any different except feeling like it was the right thing to do. She resolved herself to putting something else in it just to see what happened, and felt a very light touch settle on her shoulders and stay there. It was somehow comforting, but it still unnerved her, so she turned around, seeing nothing. Shrugging off the nervous energy she was feeling, Lillian turned again to look at the books on the wall. She wanted to check if the language she got the basic version of helped here. Lillian had studied Japanese in high school, and it had fallen out of her brain as the years went by. She could still recognise the script and some of the more basic elements. Looking at the spines of the books she was seeing, she could now recognise the lettering. She didn¡¯t entirely grasp their meanings yet, but the longer she looked at them the more she noticed similar lettering conventions to English: the line that looked like an L with a spiral tail shared the same role as a Y, changing from vowel to consonant as the word needed. In fact, the longer she studied the lettering, the more she connected to English. The Common language shared English¡¯s base components, an alphabet that combined to make different words, but the letters themselves never changed form. Lillian picked out a book at random to study further and took it over to the desk, placing it down and sitting on the stool. She realised at that point she had never opened the drawers and promptly opened the first one in the set of three. It held only rolls of a rough looking parchment, with the discolouration and pits that could only have been formed by processing wood by hand. She grabbed one of the rolls and unrolled it to check if it was blank before placing it on the desk. She opened the next drawer and found feather quills and ink bottles that jingled softly as the drawer moved. She grabbed one of each, setting them on the counter to take notes as she studied the language. The quill took a bit of getting used to, but she seemed to have some ingrained muscle memory from a source she couldn¡¯t quite place that helped her adjust. In fact, as she worked, taking care to mimic the lettering in the book completely, her understanding of it grew. Almost as if the skill she had bought wasn¡¯t giving her the knowledge she needed directly but guiding her so that she could learn herself. I¡¯d rather not have anyone forcing knowledge into my brain, her brows furrowed at the thought. Before Lillian knew it, she had spent most of the morning following the small guidance her skill had given her and could pick out words from the book that made sense to her. From the title, the book was a dry recounting of the history of the world. It would be fascinating to go through fully, when she wasn¡¯t starving. Her grumbling stomach was in fact the only thing that made her put down the quill and stopper the ink. If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. Time to go outside. It was strange, this place made her feel safer than she had been the entire time she had been in this world. It was anxiety inducing to think of leaving. She put a hand on her dagger to steady herself and started cursing. Fuck, I forgot to look at skills for the dagger! Lillian resolved herself to do some stabbing practice while she was out, took a deep, steadying breath and climbed out the window to the street. The zombies from the day before were still there, however, they all showed significant signs of decay, even more than they had yesterday. It had only been, at most, 16 hours but they looked like they were weeks old. The black goop that had started oozing out of them earlier was pooling under their bodies. They have off a feint odour as well but definitely not that of just freshly killed corpses. Something about their disease, or this world, was causing much more rapid decay than was usual. Lillian made her way over to the well, careful not to step in any of the goop just in case. The wells bucket was back in the water when she got to the well, but she didn¡¯t remember lowering it. Was there someone else here? She scanned the area around her quickly but saw nothing, although that didn¡¯t quite ease her worry. She was feeling very uneasy, like she was being watched. Hoping not to repeat a mistake, she was extra vigilant while raising the bucket out of the well. When the bucket was at hooked at the top, she filled her flask and quickly dashed back towards the safety of the building. She had her hands on the wall, ready to climb, when she had a moment of indecision. She needed food badly, she was already starting feel a little weaker and slower in mind and body. It would be all too easy to hide and waste away, so she didn¡¯t have to face this new world. However, there was a fatal flaw with that plan. She wanted to live. Lillian gave herself a moment to work up the courage, placing her head on the wall and taking three deep breaths. She pushed off the wall, rocking back on her feet briefly before planting her feet. The feeling that she was being watched hadn¡¯t gone away, which was causing her anxiety to steadily increase. Reluctantly, she the road opposite to the one she had come from yesterday to go down and started walking, keeping her hand on her dagger. As Lillian walked, she was careful to check side streets before stepping around the corner. The feeling that she was being watched was getting more intense and she was jumping at shadows. A bird cawing above her caused her to startle and look up. As she did, a sharp pain stabbed her side, and she stumbled. Looking down she could see a thin reed sticking out of her, just under her ribs. A crunch behind her gave warning. As she turned around to investigate, a blade missed her face by inches. They must have swung wide; her movements were nowhere close to being enough for her to have avoided the attack. She drew her dagger and stepped closer to the attacker; it was a man. He was wearing very similar garb to her, although more worn and stained. He had a scraggy beard and long hair tied up. His eyes looked hard and tired, staring at her dispassionately. Her movement towards him seemed to surprise him, however, as one of his eyebrows raised in response. The reason why Lillian stepped closer was to get close enough to use the dagger now resting uncertainly in her hand. She didn¡¯t know what she could do from here so she stabbed at his hand, an impulsive action, in which she hoped she would force him to drop his short sword. He was faster than her clumsy and ill thought stab, however, and his free hand grabbed her arm holding the dagger and pulled her towards him. She struggled against his hold, but he was too strong, and she only got a headbutt to the face instead. She dropped the dagger as pain blossomed and she cried out, dazed. He let go of her then pushing her back, causing Lillian to lose her balance, ending up flat on her back. He pointed his sword at her. When it was clear she was not going to get back up, he walked closer and delivered a quick kick to her temple, knocking her out cold. Contact Lillian came too with a start; she had been jostled by a sudden bump from the pressure against her stomach. She was being carried over the shoulder of a muscular, broad man, her hands tied behind her back. The hand on her ass provided a firm but not predatory pressure, probably meant to just keep her in place. She opened her eyes and recognised the same tunic she was staring at that her attacker had worn. Safe to bet that he was the one carrying her. The thought did not comfort her. Looking around, she couldn¡¯t see anyone else in the vicinity. They were walking down a wide and long set of steps between two buildings, in what looked like an alleyway. One important note she decided to etch into her brain, was that her dagger was now hanging on the man¡¯s hip, tucked into his belt. It would probably be easy enough to grab if she could get close enough or was fast enough. For right now though, she needed information. ¡°Hey,¡± she called out before her anxiety shut her throat. ¡°Where are you taking me?¡± His steps faltered for a quick second, probably surprised to hear her voice. He rumbled something in response, but Lillian could not understand what he was saying. The language he was speaking sounded harsh and nasally, he also had a lisp, any noise that kind of sounding like an s came out as a f sound instead. ¡°I can¡¯t understand you,¡± She let her frustration show in her voice, so that she was sure he picked up on it, even with the language barrier. He kept rambling on, seeming to talk more to himself than to her. After a bit of that, Lillian began to recognise sounds as the same sounds that she had been studying just that morning. She paid closer attention to the words he was saying and going over her study notes in her head. Every now and then he would say a word she recognised to mean home, and from that she picked up the context for the words he was using around it. No doubt her skill was playing another part here, helping her acclimate better to the new language. Eventually she put together that he was saying the same thing repeatedly, with different words used. They were heading to his home, and the repetition was meant to soothe his own nerves at the task. That did not bode well for what awaited them there. The trip down the stairs ended before she could figure out what the full sentence meant. They came to a stop in front of a door, Lillian could see the bottom of it and the frame. Both were wooden and recessed in a wall made of the same stone as the rest of the staircase. The door looked like it was carved into the rock itself. Her noble, kidnapping steed rapped on the door with his knuckles, causing a sliding sound as something in the door was slid across it, although Lillian could not see it herself. The man carrying her said a few words, none of them she recognised. She repeated the sounds in her head, trying to memorise the words just in case. The sliding sound came again, the object being slid back home, and multiple clicks and clanks could be heard as multiple locks were unlocked. Lillian counted 4 locks on the door unlocking before it opened. The door swung inward, and they stepped through. If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. Inside was dark and dirty, and she noticed faint light coming from the walls of the corridor, spaced far apart. The man started walking along and she saw that the light came from oil lamps hung high on hooks. The man was also not talking now, opting to stay silent. Whether that was from a personal choice or the norm of the place they had entered, she couldn¡¯t tell. A footfall in front of Lillian made her flick her head up suddenly and scan the corridor. She saw nothing in the dingy darkness. Although, the faint layer of dust just settled after the man holding her, was being disturbed in the same manner as someone walking behind them. When she noticed it, she tried to focus on where the next one would land, desperately searching for any indication that someone was there, other than the dust, and she saw nothing. It made panic start to bubble up in her, threatening to spill over as her frantic eyes darted back and forth, she was sure they were wide and wild. The hand holding her ass lifted for a second, coming back down in a gentle pat. He must¡¯ve felt her stiffen as she tried to fight the panic rising in her. The gesture was not appreciated and Lillian let her head drop and closed her eyes, fighting back tears. If this person could be invisible, could the person holding her as well? Did she even have any chance? The walk down the corridor didn¡¯t last too much longer, although it felt like years for Lillian as her eyes welled up and the man holding her attempted his comforting gesture again. It finally occurred to Lillian how ridiculous the situation she was in was, she was being carried fireman style down a corridor where at least one person could be goddamn invisible, and she was crying. The worst part was the man who kidnapped her trying to be of comfort. He was trying at least. At the end of the corridor, it opened to a large room, when they passed the opening, she could see dingy, wooden tables and chairs, the chairs were empty but the tables she could see all held an oil lamp in the centre. It made the room appear more welcoming than the corridor, but not by much. The man holding her walked in between the tables and stopped before one near the centre of the room that one person sitting at it. From her position, Lillian could only see legs, clad in dark brown trousers and leather boots. She was suddenly lifted and manhandled until she stood facing the table and the man sitting at it. He was handsome, with dark hair and green eyes. He was also wearing a collared and buttoned shirt that looked at home in 1800¡¯s Britain. His expression was quizzical, directed at the man that had brought her here. He said something in a questioning tone, in which Lillian could only catch a couple words of. ¡°¡­Home¡­ ¡­Worth¡­¡± The man who had brought her replied and she couldn¡¯t understand his words at all but managed to place his tone, he was defensive but trying to appear placating. It seemed like the kidnapper was afraid of the man in front of her. The man sitting down nodded and gestured to his left. Lillian was promptly picked up again and they headed in that direction. She was then taken from the large room into another corridor, this one having doors at regular intervals that had locks on the outside. After a minute of walking, she was taken into an open door and placed on her feet again inside the small room. It only held a small rectangular stone with a fur on top of it, that, she assumed, was her bed. The man then took her dagger out, cut her hands free and pushed her so she lost her balance, sprawled on the floor. As she stood up she heard the unmistakeable sound of a deadbolt being slid home.