You're Filthy

I was ushered into a small room filled with wooden crates and chests, lit by a hanging oil lamp. In its warm orange glow, I could finally lay eyes on my savior. A normal, human girl, of honey brown hair and green eyes, and unlike me, not wretchedly poor. She wore a simple rough spun tunic with green shortalls, grey leggings and short leather boots. Certainly not true medieval or renaissance clothing, but again, common enough in the world of fantasy RPGs. I pegged her at the taller end of 12 years old, one of those beanpole types that just shot up like a weed. In comparison I stood only a little shorter than her chest.

It really made me wonder what she was doing down here. I at least had an excuse. By her implication, therians had a reputation as being naturally more ferocious than a normal human, and could possibly handle myself. On top of having a class focused on killing things and my natural senses, I felt strangely predisposed to surviving in this shithole. That would explain why that woman threw me down here. But she really did look, from top to bottom, like a typical townie. NPC Village Girl 1 who existed solely to bulk out the starter village.

Then again, in stories of might and magic, the protagonist often came from humble beginnings. A farm boy or girl whose life was turned upside down and driven into adventure. Maybe she secretly had the class of hero, or something. Whatever was going on, I was quickly running out of the strength to care.

I collapsed against a chest while she closed the door and replaced the wooden bar keeping it locked shut. Clearly, this was some sort of supply cache or rest room, which implied to me that whatever this place was, it may as well be some kind of wilderness. Only in a hostile land would you need a strong room to rest in, and an unexplored land would greatly benefit from supply caches for greater forays into the depths. What sort of hellhole was this place, then?

“Here, use this, you’re still filthy.“ She said as she reached into a crate and pulled out a length of cloth and a jug of water. I started drinking straight from the jug, and didn’t stop until it was empty.

Wordlessly, she took the jug and dipped it into a water barrel, and returned it to me. I started drinking again, only to stop halfway when I saw her frowning. With a heavy heart, I used the remainder of the water and the cloth to wipe away the ichor of my travels. It left me feeling more refreshed than I expected, even if it did turn the cotton fabric black.

Once I'd cleaned up, she then handed me a clean tunic, sized for a proper adult, but a dress for my size, although I needed to roll up my sleeves. A spare leather belt replaced my rope belt, although it was too long, and I needed to resort to using my sword to cut a new notch into it, and wrap the remaining length around my hips. My old ruined sack was discarded into a corner, as part of a now growing refuse pile. Sadly, my feet remained in wraps, as there were no children's sized shoes among the supplies. The fresh cloth did wonders for how I felt, at least, no longer did a sticky, cold sensation cling to my toes.

“There, now you look properly civilized.“ She said, producing a polished tin plate and allowing me to see my reflection.

How strange. This is who I was, or rather whom I’ve been, for the past day. Yellow-red eyes and disheveled black hair, along with a pair of round black ears jutting out from atop my head. A maw of sharp teeth with lengthened canines, and a somewhat broad, red nose. Dirt and grime covered my pallid skin, and my hair appeared gross and matted, but I still thought myself cute. Then again, maybe that was misplaced narcissism lingering from my earthling days. I didn’t have much chance to continue the strange creature I’d become, as the girl handed me a hardtack biscuit and a piece of jerky.

I didn't need prompting. I even forgot to thank her. I went right to work, using all my strength to bite off a piece of the tough meat. It took a long time to chew through it, but the entire time it tasted wonderfully. She refilled my water, and while I chewed on the meat I soaked the biscuit, letting it soften up a little before shoving that into my mouth too. I almost choked on the food, but I didn't care. It was so delicious that I couldn't not try to eat it all at once.

“Settle down, you'll choke if you're not careful.“ She said, smiling, although by the look in her eyes, I could tell that she was no stranger to being this hungry. ‘I guess you're no monster then.’

I tried to say ‘Same to you,’ but my mouth was too stuffed to make a legible sound.

“I'm Amparo of Derrim Village.“ She said, extending her hand.

“I'm Loiel Krieger.“ I replied, shaking her hand.

“Krieger? Are you a Reiklander?“

“I don't know. Is Derrim Village in the Reikland?“

“In the south of Hyraxia, but I actually don't know where exactly. I've never seen a map.“

“Neither have I.“ It was the truth, technically.

“I saw that mark on your body. You're a slave?“ By the look in her eye, she didn't seem to mean anything maliciously by it, she was simply stating a fact.

“I guess so.“ I shrugged. “I don't remember much. All I do know is that I woke up in a cell, and some huge lady picked me up, dropped me down some hole, and I've been fighting for my life ever since.“

“Slavers must've scooped you up and branded you. I heard that it's so painful that it can make you forget who you were.“ Amparo sighed, squatting down to my level, “I was also taken by slavers when my village was razed by the demons. They found me wandering around. But before they decided to brand me, I think the monks of this monastery bought me. I thought I was saved, but then they threw me down here.“

“Monastery? What kind of monastery has monsters?“

“I don’t know. I don’t even know where we are, I was kept in a cage under a tarp for most of the journey here. I only saw the monastery when they took us out. It was built on the slopes of this giant mountain, in the middle of the wilderness. There was a small village nestled around the monastery, but that’s all I saw.“

“Were there mountains where you lived?“ I asked, struggling to get a geographical image of the world.

“Yes, but they were far away, the village was mostly flat with some hills and forests. I didn’t recognize these mountains at all. We traveled for several days, so we must’ve crossed several leagues. We’re probably not even in the same county anymore.“ Amparo explained as she fished out another piece of jerky and began picking at it, chewing between sentences as she struggled to best remember, “I think I heard the monks call themselves the Order of the Stone Solari, but they stopped calling themselves that after I went down here. I only heard them make fusses about chosen people and monsters down in the labyrinth after they put me in a cell. I honestly didn’t understand much of what they were talking about.“

I almost asked “Does that mean we’re being held captive by a secret heretic cult masquerading as an orthodox, reclusive, monastic order?” Only to realize how stupid of a question that would’ve been to ask. I doubt a normal person, much less a kid who’d never attended primary education, would understand or even have an idea of the theological discussions that go on between heretics.

Instead, I asked her “Are you a chosen one?“

“A chosen what?“

“The woman that sent me down here said that they were looking for a chosen one.“

“No, that's impossible. I haven't been baptized, so I don’t know my class, and I don’t think I’m a potter like my mother and father, or a painter like my brother. What I do know is that I am not cut out for fighting. No one in the history of my clan has been any kind of warrior, and classes run in the blood, you know.“

“Really? I didn't know.“

“What do you know?“

“I don't know what I know. For instance, I know I can speak and do math, but I don't know if I can read or write. I know how to use this sword, but I couldn’t explain how to cut.“

“The sword thing sounds like you're getting that from your class. If you're a slave knight, God has imparted in you the wisdom to act accordingly, even if you don't understand how or why. That's how my parents explained how they do pottery.“

“Is that what classes are?“

“Back in Derrim Village, Father Bren told me that they're a little more than that. A class is a gift from God given at birth. Anyone can bake bread or farm or swing a sword, but a class gives the person superhuman ability in whatever their class does. It doesn't matter so much for mundane things, like pottery or baking, but for other things, it really is very special. A person with the wizard class can use magic, while the priest class can make miracles, and a knight will have undefeatable fighting prowess. An untrained knight can easily defeat a normal swordsman without any training. That must explain why you were able to survive down here.“

Holy shit, this world really did run on RPG mechanics. Absurd, insane, even. God must be a gamer, and that sounded miserable for the rest of us.‘Are you sure about that? Everything I've run into seemed rather weak to me.“

“That you found them weak proves my point! What little I overheard from the clerics and monks was about how dangerous this place was. It would take a full party of Iron class adventurers to safely explore it.“

“Iron class adventurers?”

“You know, sell-swords, slayers, seekers? Iron-class means that they're skilled and capable regulars. That's not important, anyway. You've got to understand that there are all sorts of monsters down here, because it's a dungeon, a prison for a piece of the evil god. Without a source of light, things just come out of the darkness and kill you, and there's nothing you can do to fight back. Even with light, things like zombies can still attack without warning. This place is incredibly dangerous!“

It all made sense then. I really was uniquely fit to fight in these conditions. The monsters I'd run into so far relied entirely on ambushing their prey, and without the element of surprise, they were actually defenseless. Then there was the whole dungeon thing she mentioned, a prison for a piece of the evil angel. Otherworld Online had no such religion or setting, and it had a polytheistic, pantheon based culture. The way the girl spoke, it implied that monotheism was the norm.

“If it's so dangerous, how did you survive?“ I asked

“I haven't been here very long. When I was thrown down the hole, they gave me a torch. Because of that, the things down here didn't attack me. Or at least, at first they didn't. But then this huge monster started to chase me because of the light, so I had to throw away the torch. I sort of blindly wandered around in the dark until I found this room. I stayed in here for a little while until I decided to look outside for a moment, only for that zombie to appear, and then I ran back in here. Then you entered the scene, and here we are.“

“There was a huge monster down here? Are you certain?“

“Yes, it was a big, hunched over thing.“ Amparo said, mimicking the monster’s movements in such a way that it reminded me of a gorilla, “Like a person stretched out too much, and their arms and legs and body stopped being human shaped. But they were gaunt as well, like some kind of walking corpse. It was no zombie though, it moved fast and made horrific howling.“

“It's a miracle you did manage to get away then. If it's as big as you say, I'm afraid I couldn’t win against it.“

“Maybe you're the Chosen One they’re looking for, and you can defeat it.“

“That's impossible. I'm a nobody, I barely know how to fight. You're more likely to be a hero or a chosen one or whatever. You don't know what your class is yet.”

“If I hadn't been lucky enough to find this room, I would've died.“

“Isn't luck an important trait of heroes?“

“I'm certain that being able to kill monsters is an important trait of a hero.“

“Then I guess we're both chosen ones.’ I said, yawning. ‘I want to talk more, but I’m so tired. Can I sleep for a little bit?“

“Of course.“ She said, getting a blanket out from one of the chests and setting it on a cot, “Here, just for you.“