I Did Stand a Chance

My brief foray into introspection had cost me about ten or fifteen minutes I guessed, and by the wavering strength of the torch, it had another fifteen or thirty minutes of life left before I was left in complete darkness. Fifteen or thirty minutes to find shelter, safety, warmth and food, in that order. Hopefully two or more at once. Oh, I’m definitely dead. Again.

I pressed onwards, and disappointingly, downwards. The pit had a single passage leading forwards that led into more dark and damp hallways, all of which were gently and barely noticeably sloped downwards. The masonry was distinctly carved with the intention of usable passageways and rooms, as it had been like above, but deep furrows had been crudely carved into the ground, acting as a guide for water. The lack of corpses or any decoration at all ruled out some kind of catacomb, necropolis or other kind of sacred or holy site. At one time I guessed that maybe this had been the deep interior of a castle, the vast stores of some palace, or an underground city. Maybe a shelter? Or maybe a prison. As far as I could tell, whatever these ruins were once for, it had been repurposed into a sewer.

Most rooms and halls had collapsed, blocked by fallen timbers and stone. Any set of stairs that seemed to be leading up were equally ruined and useless. Occasionally I’d come across a fork in the road that demanded a choice, and keeping with some vague advice about navigating mazes I remembered, I kept going left. Just to be safe, I used a bit of ash from the torch at every fork to mark the way I’d come and where I’d gone. If it came to backtracking, I didn’t want to get completely lost. If there had been any elegance in the stonework down here, it had long since been worn away, and I could find no good landmarks or other means of orientation.

More worryingly, the masonry all had signs of water corrosion and wear, and all signs indicated that the water had flowed in one direction: Down. Granted, that was the same direction that the air seemed to be drawn towards, so that gave me some hope that I was going the right way. Still, this place had once been under water. Moving water. Though things were thoroughly dry for now, a sudden flood of water would instantly drown me. Yet another possibility that could kill me.

It didn’t take long for me to find my first body down here. The corpse had mostly rotted down to the bones and sinews, then dried out like jerky. There were what looked to be bite and claw marks, made well after jerkification. That meant that this place had been dry for a long time, which made a sudden torrent unlikely, and more worryingly, something had been trying to eat it. Scraps of clothing hung from its limbs and torso, but nothing usable, and I couldn’t tell if it had at one time been a man or a woman. But those things were irrelevant compared to what was sticking out of their chest. A sword.

I prayed to the dark gods that brought me here that this wasn’t a trap, that this wasn’t some kind of undead that would leap up as I got close or any number of other horrific horror tropes that would get me killed, and grabbed the sword. It was stuck tight, and even with both hands pulling, all I ended up doing was moving the whole corpse. Only after accepting that I would have to touch the corpse with my shoeless feet to get enough leverage to pull out the sword did I finally free the blade. And no, I did not scream because I thought it was a zombie when I accidentally moved it. And besides, even if I did scream, that was fine, I'm a little girl now. Screaming is perfectly justified. Even though I did no such thing.

The sword itself had at one time been an arming sword, similar to the one that woman wore. Somewhere along the way the blade had been broken in the middle. The lack of an exit wound in the body had me guessing before the fatal incident. The jagged edge that made its new tip and its cutting edges were still sharp, its last victim acting as an effective sheathe. Its new size was ironically an ideal length for me to wield, while its adult-sized handle was long enough for both of my hands. A longsword fit for a child. The weight of it felt reassuring in my hands. At least I could defend myself.

As I was admiring my new companion, I heard a skittering sound. The same echoing noise I’d heard earlier. Perhaps I had interrupted something feasting, and only now it had worked up the nerve to come back and try to take back its meal. Unlike the woman, who was huge, I was merely small, and the idea of trying to stand my ground felt futile and suicidal. The noise came from behind me, which made the direction I needed to go obvious. Forward. Time to go forward. Quickly. Very quickly.

I hadn’t quite broken into a full run, but I was still walking fairly quickly. I didn’t want to lose my footing and trip like some horror movie victim. A second pair of footsteps followed my own, the sound faint, disguised by the echoes of the stone halls. No, not footsteps. It was a three tapped gait, like some ape bonding across the ground on two legs and a supporting arm. Whatever it was, it was certainly following me now. A little faster now. Walking just a little faster. I could hear it matching my pace. Jogging now, I was jogging, just a little jog. After a certain point I dispensed with the pretensions and just broke into a sprint. Something was definitely chasing me, and if whatever that was could get that giant woman to pause, I stood no chance.

Then my torch died and the world went dark. Continuing to run in the dark would be pointless. I would trip, fall, and most likely, land on my sword, otherwise injure myself, and end up dead. The only thing left to do was stand my ground. I turned around and hurled the dead torch into the dark, where I heard it hit something alive, and then clatter onto the ground.

I brought up the sword and readied myself. In my old life I swung around a sword for a little bit of fun, watched a few HEMA tutorials on the internet, and played far too many medieval combat simulators. A lot of that was pretty pointless, seeing as how this was not my body and so muscle memory probably didn’t apply, and I was a child, so even more of those lessons on leverage and bodily ergonomics counted even less. The possibility that whatever I was to fight was not humanoid made those observed skills even more worthless. Still, that was all I had, and it was better than nothing.

Long seconds passed. Seconds turned to minutes, and in those minutes, a miracle happened. What had once been bitch black darkness was slowly becoming more discernable. Shapes were making themselves known in the dark. My eyes were adjusting. More still, I could smell it, whatever it was. I realized that the racial passives of the Ursine Therian, darkvision and enhanced senses, were manifesting. In Otherworld Online all classes came with their own bonuses and detriments, and although those mattered less the more powerful you were, right now they were my lifeline. Not being completely blind was doing wonders for my morale. Still, the torch had acted as a deterrent, I presumed, since nothing attacked with the light. But now, I could tell that whatever had been chasing me was eagerly, cautiously, approaching.

My eyes finally fully adjusted, and I could see some gangly, gremlin like creature crawling forward. It was creeping forward, determined to make no noise. Whatever it was, it seemed to think that I couldn’t see in the dark. That’s why it hadn’t immediately pounced on me the moment the light failed. It thought that I was now completely blind, and was looking for the right circumstances to attack. I held my sword steady, standing completely still. We had made eye contact, but I don’t think that it realized I could see it. It most likely thought that I was simply staring straight into the dark, and I did my best to keep from focusing directly on it to hopefully maintain the charade. As an Ursine Therian, I was better equipped to handle the dark, but a cave dwelling gremlin probably had me beat. My only advantage was that it thought I was defenseless. Actually, I had a second advantage, that I was armed, and that thing was not, at least as far as I could tell. I could see that it had long taloned hands and feet, and when it snarled I could see pointed teeth, but nothing like a weapon. That could be misleading. Maybe it had magic powers or something, I don’t know.

As it continued to inch ever closer to me, and I continued to study it, I realized that it was most likely some kind of feral monster, without any concept of civilization or culture. It was completely nude, devoid of any sort of tattoo, or jewelry, or evidence of ritual scarring. In some places its grey-white skin was nearly completely translucent, its red muscles and veins clearly visible. But perhaps the most horrific feature were its eyes, huge, bulging black orbs that seemed soulless. Such eyes were probably severely sensitive to the light, which would explain why the torch fended it off. However, it was small, and I couldn’t tell if it was a child, like me, or this was an example of an adult of the species. Whatever it was, we were roughly equal in size and weight.

It was now only a few feet away, and its lips parted to reveal a jagged smile. I heard a barely audible exhale, and realized that it was about to strike. Now was my time. If it could cross this distance in an instance, I could do the same. I lunged forward in two steps, across the distance it had intended to leap. It wasn’t prepared as I brought the sword stabbing down into its chest. I threw all my momentum and all my body weight into the strike, and pinning it down. The thing began to howl and screech, thrashing wildly and blindly, but I held on. I brought the broken sword up, and then down, again and again. I kept stabbing and stabbing, even as errant flailing swings of its claws cut across my arms and cheeks, I kept stabbing. Even as its black blood ran across the stone floor and splashed across my face, even as it grew still, I kept stabbing.

I kept stabbing and stabbing and stabbing. It was only when I was certain that it had died, that I realized I had been screaming all the while. Its eyes were frozen open, mouth aghast in terror, horrendously long tongue lolling onto the cold stone. I’m uncertain if it even had eyelids to blink. I had the audacity to think ‘that wasn't so bad.’

*ding! Level up!*

My status screen opened, and I saw:

+++

Name: Loiel Krieger

Class: Lord of Tyranny (Slave Knight)

Species: Ursine Therian

Level: 2

HP: 24/24 FP: 10

Attributes: Vigor: F-, Mind: F-, Endurance: F-, Strength: F, Dexterity: F-, Agility: F- , Intelligence: F-, Faith: F-, Luck: F-

Equipment: -Torch, -Sack Clothes, -Broken Sword

Effects: -Slave Mark

Class Features: -Unarmored Defense, -Reckless Attack,

Proficiencies: -Simple Weapon Proficiency, -Martial Weapon Proficiency, -Shield Proficiency, -Light Armor Proficiency, -Medium Armor Proficiency, -Heavy Armor Proficiency,

Skills: Perception: F, Athletics: E, Survival: F, History: F, Religion: F, Medicine: F-

Racial Traits: -Dark Senses, -Relentless Endurance, -Untrammeled Savagery

+++

What do you know, I did stand a chance.