The Brunch Before...

It had been a wild three months since I was summoned from World Eighty-Two—Earth—to Esseria. Having met and made a deal with the eccentric lich Phyllis, I trained to become an adventurer, befriended a triop of misfits and realized they were secretly overpowered. Together, we threw a wrench into the broken magical school system, raided a recently uncovered dungeon and even slew a dragon. And all the while, I worked through some mommy issues that I had paid to have locked away.

After all, who needs therapy when you can punch scaley monsters in the face?

I was luckily able to experience all of this thanks to my special talent. A talent that was more or less a big asterisk since there was nothing particularly special about me, other than the fact that I authored this world. Twenty years of my old life—Tahvin’s life—had been dedicated to writing the history of Esseria spanning 30,000 years. Thanks to this, I knew when and where things would be, and how to prepare accordingly. Or at least that's what I thought.

My brief time spent on the continent of Moal’aw had taught me more than a few things about this harsh world I had created. The most important of these life lessons was that, despite everything I'd written about this world, I still didn't know everything. That, even with that endless pool of knowledge about the reality I now found myself in, there was no way I could predict every little thing that could happen.

Like, how could I have predicted that the bedsheets of the fanciest inn in Squalls Crossing were lavender-scented? I thought to myself, rubbing the exceptionally soft cotton as the morning light gently stirred me from my restful slumber. It was the little details that made this awful world beautiful.

Crawling from the comfortable and wonderfully smelling bed, I placed myself in front of the tall mirror and glanced at my body. I was slightly above average on the size chart, just below six feet tall. Atop this height was a head of thick white hair that I had done little to care for, leaving it currently dishevelled. Tying it back with a crimson cord, I examined myself again as I cleared the sleep from the edges of my eyes.

My ruby gaze looked over the golden-honey complexion of my sun-blasted skin. Inspecting myself closely, I touched a few recently acquired scars that marked my average face and youthful physique. An appearance that was, mind you, now more muscular than when I first awoke to it, thanks to the regular training I had dedicated this new body to.

I mean, sure, did this toned physique almost die several times during this last adventure?

Yes.

Did I get pantsed by a succubus, revealing myself to the triop I travel with?

I don’t want to talk about it.

But did we all get rich while doing this?

Absolutely.

And, sure, we may have left the dungeon with more companions than we started, but wasn’t that a success in the grand scheme of things? 

These were all the lines I’d been feeding myself for the last few days post-adventure. Those and the questions about my place in this world and how my all-knowing presence could be impacting it. These latter queries had been even more present in my mind since the chat I'd had with Basil, the rebellious leader, and his stern message from Petal, the ancient general. Their words hung in my thoughts and haunted my dreams, forcing me to reevaluate my life in Esseria. And, on top of processing all of it, I knew that I couldn't evade Rionriv’s questions about who 'Tahvin' was for much longer.

Gah!—no rest for the wicked and all that. I thought as I crossed over to the dresser where my new, locally sourced clothing rested.

With my last set of threads being a little more ‘acid-washed’ than I preferred, I had decided to purchase some clothing from Squalls Crossing. They were nothing more than flowy wide-leg shorts and a ye olde fashion Henley, but the mobility and airiness were perfect for my dexterous fighting style. Rolling the sleeves up to my elbows and freeing a button or two from the top, I enjoyed my new cultist-chic look, a style that I found particularly funny since I knew this town had a cult problem that really needed to be dealt with by the heroes of this world.

But that’s their problem to solve. I’ve got other business.

Finishing up, I slipped on a pair of recently purchased Phyllis Brand Sneakers that resembled the Retro Ekin Trainers she had stolen from my memories and also effectively muffled my steps. The white shoes with a ruby swish fit well with my new apparel, the punch-drunk combat style I preferred, and were perfect for those sneaky missions. Finally ready to go, I took up my bottomless bag and new quarterstaff before racing downstairs for breakfast.

The dining area of our inn was quaint and quiet, making it easy to spot the triop. With each one of them a uniquely identifiable type of beauty, the table where all three sat was quite the sight to behold, even for someone who admired their faces daily.

The first and most striking figure of the group was Rionriv Singlemoon, the triop's resident super-sorceress. Her rich mocha skin tone and piercing sapphire blue eyes were only a few of her most beautiful features. The part of this elegant human that drew the most attention, aside from her perkier assets, was her red-orange hair, which now had a permanent shock of neon blue at the ends—a gift of her elemental attunement.

Sitting beside her this morning was the tallest member of the group and her sister, the lovable Aesandoral Thantossa. With short brown hair, big emerald eyes, a chestnut-toned body, and an overly compassionate personality, it was hard not to fall in love with this elven archer. But looks could deceive, and her beauty had its thorns, considering she was on another level when it came to combat. When she wanted someone or something dead, she could make it happen.

Finally, our secretive Sharzin Thistlewillow was our wonderful shadow chef. Currently, the groundling's hood was down, exposing her pitch-black hair and alabaster skin to the world. Suspicious silvery eyes that glimmered like diamonds in the light caught a glimpse of me as I approached, pulling her gaze. She was our skulker and could pinpoint a target’s weakest point with ease.

“Iz, finally.” Sharzin announced, beckoning me over.

I waved, casually strolling over to the table. This left me, Ishara, age somewhere past sixteen at this point. In actuality, Tahvin, the author of this world and from another one entirely—but I was keeping that under wraps for the time being. I was the group tank and part-time healer. All of this was a nice way of saying that I was the party meat shield.

“Come, sit,” Rionriv ordered, patting the vacant seat beside her. “We’re chatting.”

My heart immediately began to pick up pace. Rionriv was being friendly with me today, which meant only one thing.

Eeep— I thought, presenting a smile to hide my nerves. I still haven’t answered her question from a few days ago. Looks like my time is up.

“Thanks,” I replied, sliding into the tight booth where I picked up the stein with a sniff. “What’s this? Smells sweet.”

“A meadmosa,” Aesandoral said breathlessly as she brought down her drink, content from finishing a hearty swig. “It’s so good! Apparently, they’re local only to here!”

Mmmm—meadmosa. I could go for a drink.

“Yeah,” I said with a smile and a sip. “Squalls Crossing is the agricultural hub of Moal’aw. Land can’t get more fertile than this.”

Which wasn’t saying much. Of the three conjoined continents, Moal’aw was in the middle of the road regarding habitability. What farmland there was could be more than a little challenging to manage, especially considering that the other half of the continent was uninhabitable. But, in comparison to the terrain of Sact’fal to the north, this landscape was paradise. Habitable places across that continent were rare and fiercely protected by the people who had staked their claims long ago.

The real gem of this world was Ir’fornu to the east, where the members of the triop had come from. Scattered across that landscape, one could find boundless sites of agricultural plenty, thick forests, and rich ore veins. Of course, there was always a catch, and for this continent, it was a big one. Almost every creature there was super-sized, making travel quite dangerous and forcing most citizens, even magical ones, to remain within the confines of their cities, towns and villages.

“And how do you know that?” Rionriv, the little thorn in my side that she was, inquired as she gave me a gentle poke on the shoulder.

Damn. At least let me have more alcohol before the interrogation. I thought, sipping my drink and giving a nod of approval. That’s good! Now, what to say? I guess let’s cut to the chase.