5
The divine curse lifted off Sam just as they left the woods and emerged onto a long dirt road.
“And about time, too!” Sam yelled, pumping his fist in the air.
He hadn’t wanted to look over his status as long as the damn curse had been on him, but now that it was finally gone, he was excited to do so.
Sam quickly opened his status to assign his attribute points. He had a bit of a hard time deciding, but eventually made up his mind. He already thought he knew in which direction he’d be going, so the decision wasn’t really a difficult one.
CHARACTER STATUS
Name: Sam
Race: Human
Level: 3
XP: 84/700
AP: 1
Class: None
HP: 80/80 (Regen 0.8 Per Second)
MP: 170/170 (Regen 1.5 Per Second)
STA: 70/70 (Regen 0.7 Per Second)
ATTRIBUTES
Strength: 5
Constitution: 8 +1
Agility: 6
Endurance: 7 +2
Intelligence: 17 + 3
Wisdom: 15 +3
Charisma: 11
Luck: 8
ABILITIES
Mana Shot: Novice LV - 1 (66%)
Mana Burn: Novice LV - 1 (33%)
SKILLS
Sprint: Novice LV - 3 (28%)
Stalker: Novice LV - 2 (11%)
EQUIPPED ITEMS
Wool Shirt
Wool Pants
Leather Boots
RULE OF THE DAY
Do not kill any bunnies or bunny-like creatures
Sam closed his status, pleased with his choices. He’d decided that putting a few points into Endurance was a must, once he saw how badly things had been going when he’d had almost none. He’d also put a point into Constitution because having more health was never a bad thing. The rest, with the exception of a single point that he was saving for an emergency, went into Intelligence and Wisdom . By this point, he was pretty sure that he would be going the Mage route when it came time to pick a class, so having high attributes in both, wouldn’t hurt.
Hearing a loud crunching sound, Sam turned his head and saw Gordon gnawing on his stick once more.
“You know, it’s hard for me to take you seriously when you do stuff like that,” Sam commented, earning him an annoyed glare from the dog.
“Do not patronize me, simian. Do I pester you about your horrible stench, or the foul language you seem so fond of?”
“Yes, actually. To both.”
Gordon froze, mouth half open as he prepared to chew on a new section of the stick. He seemed to think for a moment, then abruptly got to his feet, padding off with his head held high and the stick clutched between his jaws.
Sam just shook his head but set out after the dog. He was heading in the direction of the town, after all.
His stomach growled continuously now, reminding him just how hungry he really was. When had he last eaten? Definitely before coming to Somerset. But it couldn’t have been more than 24 hours, right?
Letting out a long sigh, Sam began jogging, if only in an effort to take his mind off of his growling stomach. The town was about an hour away and Gordon had mentioned that it would be getting dark in the next few hours. Sam wasn’t good at telling the time based on the position of the sun, especially here, where he wasn’t even sure of the day and night cycles. Had he been back home, though, he would have guessed it to be somewhere around 6 in the evening.
Sam’s mind began wandering as he went through the process of running and stopping, checking his status every once in a while to check his progress. He wondered if Greg or Matt had ended up here. Or Gwen, a small voice in the back of his head said.
Gwen had been his friend since middle school and he’d had a massive crush on her for years but had never had the guts to ask her out. He’d been working up the nerve on the night of Greg’s party and would have liked to think that he would have asked her out, had he not been sent here, but Sam knew better. He was a coward when it came to women. He always had been.
“My, my. You appear to be quite down on yourself.”
Sam was snapped from his pity party when Gordon spoke up from beside him.
He’d been so wrapped up in his own thoughts, that he hadn’t even realized that he’d dropped back.
“Just thinking of home,” Sam replied, not wanting to spill his guts to a talking dog he’d only just met that morning.
Come to think of it, what was the appropriate amount of time to wait, before spilling one’s secrets to a talking dog?
Gordon didn’t answer, staying silent as the two of them continued running at Sam’s pace. He was sure that Gordon could easily outstrip him, but he stayed next to him all the same, for which Sam was grateful.
“It is never easy leaving one’s home,” Gordon finally spoke up, “but rest assured that I will do all I can to ensure you win this contest set up by our illustrious Overlord.”
“Thanks,” Sam said, feeling oddly touched.
“Why do you keep referring to him as the “Illustrious Overlord?” Sam asked, making air quotes when he said the man’s name.
There wasn’t a shred of respect in him for this so-called Overlord. That dick had stolen him, and who knew how many others, away from their homes and brought them here.
Sam was a realist and judging by his first day, he was pretty sure that more than one person had died so far. He’d come very close to dying when that goblin had tripped over him. Had it inflicted just another 2 points of damage… Sam shook himself violently. No. He would not go down the road of what if’s. He would stick to what he was doing and try to get out.
“I refer to him as our Illustrious Overlord, because that is his title. Calling him anything else would be very disrespectful,” Gordon replied, cutting into Sam’s wandering thoughts.
“Who is he exactly?”
He needed as much information on this person as possible if he would have to fight him to get out Somerset.
“He is the Overlord. The ruler of this land, the creator of this world. In a word, he is God.”
Sam stumbled when he heard that, only just managing to keep his feet and slowing to a walk.
“Wait, so what you’re saying is that if I want to leave, I need to kill God!?”
“Correct,” Gordon replied, dropping his stick for a moment, his long tongue hanging out as he panted heavily.
Sam blew out another annoyed breath and continued down the road at a slower pace, his mind racing with the new information. Heart sinking with each step, Sam now realized what it would truly take to get out of this world.
***
About half an hour later, the first farm came into view. Sam stopped when he saw it, and quickly opened his map. He saw that the farm was one of many, surrounding a small town labeled as Farm’s Rest. Snorting at the unimaginative name, Sam closed the map and headed into the open gate surrounding the farm.
Gordon was still padding silently along, with the now not so shiny stick still clutched between his jaws.
How long was he planning on dragging that thing along? Wasn’t it getting in his way or something? Sam pondered.
“Hold it right there!”
Sam froze when a man’s voice rang out in the still, early evening.
“I’m not moving,” he called out, raising his hands above his head.
A moment later, a squat man, appearing to be in his early fifties, waddled out onto the path. He had a pitchfork leveled at Sam and looked at him with a distrustful gaze.
“What d’ya want?” the man asked bluntly.
“We’re not here to fight,” Sam said, putting on his best smile and hoping his Charisma was high enough for them not to be attacked. “We’re new to this region, and we’re just looking for some work and a place to get a meal.”
“We?” the farmer asked, seeming to relax just a little.
Sam gestured to Gordon, who dropped the stick and dipped his head.
“A pleasure to meet you.”
The farmer didn’t seem at all troubled by the talking dog and lowered his pitchfork.
“Alright. You can head up to the farmhouse and tell my daughter, Greta, to serve you a meal, but you’ll have to leave your dog outside.”
“I’m sorry, he doesn’t like to be called that,” Sam said, still keeping his hands visible. “Gordon prefers to be called by name.”
The farmer let out a snort of laughter at that and waved him past.
“Don’t go spoiling your pets. It only makes them more demanding. Greta will feed you, and tell you about some problems we’ve been having around these parts. Just keep your hands to yourself, ya hear?”
Sam nodded, now very confused as to the farmer’s seeming obliviousness about Gordon.
“Can he not understand you?” he asked as they passed the man and continued up the dirt track leading to the house.
“It would appear not,” Gordon replied, turning his head to glance back at the farmer in question, who had by now gone back to work.
“Weird. Do you think it’ll be that way with everyone we meet?”
“Who can say? It may very well be so. I was created to be your guide, after all. Though I hope that is not the case. As much as I enjoy speaking with you, you are a dreadful conversationalist at times.”
“Gee, thanks,” Sam muttered under his breath as he walked up to the door and knocked twice.
A moment later, one of the most beautiful and well endowed young women Sam had ever seen opened the door. Sam wanted to find this Overlord and beat him for being so unoriginal.
An old crotchety farmer living alone with his super-hot daughter.
Bet she’ll want me to take her away from this place and to the big city, or some shit like that.
“Oh, hello, can I help you?” Sam realized that he’d been staring, and awkwardly cleared his throat.
“Hello, my name is Sam and this is Gordon. Your father told us we could come here to get a meal. He also said that you were having some trouble, and we would be more than happy to take care of it for you.”
Sam was shocked by how smooth he’d been. Normally when he spoke with girls this pretty, he’d turn into a stuttering red-faced mess.
“Oh, how kind of you to offer!” Greta said, flashing him a perfect smile.
There was no way that a poor farm girl, living in medieval society, would have teeth that straight or white.
“Why don’t you come right in, and I’ll tell you all about it,” she said, reaching out and snatching one of his arms, squeezing it to her ample chest.
“O-Of course!” Sam replied, suddenly feeling his heart rate spike.
So much for not being nervous.
“But what about my companion. I wouldn’t want Gordon to go hungry.”
“Thank you for being so considerate, Sam,” Gordon replied through a mouthful of stick, which he was once again chewing on.
“Don’t you worry about a thing!” Greta said, pulling him into the house with surprising strength. “I’ll set a bowl out for him as soon as I’ve taken care of you.”
Sam managed to get one last look at his companion before the door slammed shut. He gave Gordon a pleading look, but the dog had just waved his paw and winked.
He felt like screaming.
Dogs don’t wink!