by Aaron Oster
“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 gi
rl, 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!
6
Sam swallowed nervously as Greta set a bowl of steaming stew before him, along with a fresh loaf of bread and a mug of beer.
This is so unrealistic. Who the hell just happens to have hot stew, freshly baked bread, and cold beer lying around? Maybe all the people in Somerset were like the non-player characters, or NPC’s, in video games and not actual people.
He’d have to ask Gordon about that later.
As she bent down, Sam immediately realized two things. First of all, Greta had unbuttoned the top few buttons of her plaid shirt, and secondly, she wasn’t wearing a bra! In fact, if he tilted his head just the right way he could almost…
Nope!
Sam’s eyes immediately snapped away from the woman, face coloring in embarrassment and he focused instead on the bowl of stew sitting before him.
He really didn’t want his Stalker skill going up any more. Besides, he really was hungry. The only food he’d eaten all day was a few bites of that furry rabbit, all of which, he’d immediately thrown up.
“Thanks for the food It looks great,” he said, noting that Greta hadn’t moved from her position next to him.
“You’re welcome. I hope you enjoy it. It took me all day to make that.”
Sam noted a teasing tone in her voice that made him distinctly more nervous, but all that fled his mind as soon as he took his first bite.
It was heavenly!
One of the best stews he’d ever tasted. The only stew he’d ever tasted, actually. Who the hell still took the time to make a freaking stew? Sam wondered.
Sam quickly tore off a piece of the bread, dunking it into the steaming broth and shoving it in his mouth, not at all caring how it probably looked to the woman standing next to him.
“You don’t need to stand there,” Sam said, mouth still half full of soggy bread and chunks of meat. “I really don’t mind if you sit.”
“No, that’s quite alright,” Greta said. “I still need to take some food out to your dog.”
“He’s actually my companion,” Sam automatically corrected. “I don’t really own him.”
“Of course you don’t! Such a sweet man. And handsome, too,” Greta said, trailing her fingers under his chin as walked past him and to the front door.
What the actual fuck is wrong with this world? Who designed this place? Some horny 15 year old with a hero complex? Sam wondered for the umpteenth time.
He really hoped that all the women he came across wouldn’t act this way. Sam wasn’t exactly a warrior for social justice, but he did know that there was more to a woman than just her looks.
Apparently, this illustrious Overlord didn’t get the memo, he thought, dunking another slice of bread into the delicious bowl of stew.
Yet another fantasy cliché; bread, stew, and beer.
Sam grabbed the foaming mug and took a long sip, feeling the cool drink going down his throat. He leaned back in his chair with a sigh, hearing the front door open and close as Greta came back in. He took one last bite of the stew, mopping up the remaining juices in the bowl - as any fantasy trope would demand - and popped it into his mouth, washing it down with the last bit of the strong beer.
He let out an appreciative belch, as Greta came back into the kitchen and immediately sat up straighter when he noticed that yet another button on her shirt had been undone.
“Did you enjoy your meal?” she asked, her voice now pitched much lower than it had been.
To Sam, it sounded a lot more sultry, as though she were about to invite him into her bed. He felt his heart rate increase as she approached, his brain suddenly moving a mile a minute.
Was this one of those types of fantasy worlds? Where the main character went from town to town, collecting a harem of stupid hot women? Not that he would complain if that was the case, but he’d thought better of this Overlord person…
Sam’s thoughts trailed off as Greta sauntered over to him, and plopped herself down on his lap. He felt his eyes immediately lock onto her very exposed cleavage and his face went from red to crimson.
“Um, Greta. What are you doing?” Sam choked out, feeling his little buddy begin rising to attention from the contact.
“Oh, isn’t it obvious?” she asked, tracing a finger over his jaw and leaning down to place a kiss on his lips.
Sam felt his already pounding heart redouble its efforts, as those warm and soft lips pressed against his. For a moment, his mind screamed at him that something wasn’t right, but then he relaxed as a wonderful sensation washed over his body.
He sagged in his chair and allowed Greta to continue kissing him, feeling her soft hands wandering over his chest. Something flashed in the corner of his vision, but Sam ignored it, in favor of the stunning farm girl that was now pressed to him. She pulled back from the kiss, and he stared into her shining emerald eyes.
They were beautiful, and he wondered how he could ever have thought that the Overlord wasn’t a good dude. Somerset was awesome!
“Still awake, I see,” Greta said, grinning widely and displaying a mouth full of needle-like teeth. “You’re a strong one, aren’t you?”
Sam nodded dumbly, as the blue-skinned woman leaned in to kiss him once more, and felt a warm sensation wash over him.
There was a sudden commotion at the door and Greta pulled away from him, rising suddenly off his lap.
“Where are you going?” Sam asked, noting that his voice sounded oddly slurred.
“Don’t worry, darling. I’ll be right back,” Greta replied, winking at him and blowing him a kiss. San nodded dumbly, slumping back in his seat as the commotion from the door grew louder.
Then a voice called out from the door. A very familiar sounding voice, Sam noted.
“Sam! Wake up! It is a trap! This place is not as it seems!”
Why did that voice sound so familiar? Sam wondered, while he waited for the beautiful farm girl to come back.
“Samuel Edward Silvers the Third. Wake up this instant!”
“Don’t you fucking call me that, you damn mutt!” Sam yelled, up on his feet in an instant and ready to slug it out the pompous dog. Then he blinked in confusion.
What the hell was going on?
Then he noticed a flashing in the top right corner of his vision, and his eyes went wide when he noticed that his HP bar was nearly half empty.
“What the…”
Sam’s sentence was cut off, as Greta walked back into the room.
“Oh, fuck me,” Sam said, feeling like such an idiot.
Here he was, making fun of this Overlord for all the bad tropes, and he’d gotten played by one of the oldest tricks in the book.
Why, trope? Why?!
“Oh, I see that you’ve somehow broken my spell,” Greta said, placing a blue scaled hand on a shapely hip. “Not to worry, my pet. I’ll have you back under soon enough.”
“Yeah… thanks, but no thanks,” Sam said, raising his hand and using Mana Burn.
A flash of blue lit up the cottage and Greta staggered back with a pained cry as the fla
ming ball of mana struck her in the chest.
You Deal: -13 Damage to blue siren (10 Mana Burn + 3 Burn Damage).
“I fucking knew it!” Sam yelled, targeting her again and using Mana Shot, then Mana Burn again.
You Deal: -6 Damage to blue siren (Mana Shot).
You Deal: -9 Damage to blue siren (Mana Burn).
“Stop this, at once!” Greta screamed, sending a rippling shockwave through the room which made Sam stagger.
Blue siren deals -15 damage (Sonic).
You are Stunned! Duration: S 10
Sam found that he suddenly couldn’t move and a small timer counting down from ten appeared in the top right corner of his vision. He could still move his eyes and they followed Greta as she sauntered over to him once more. Her bright blue lips were quirked upward in a smirk, and a pair of slitted black pupils stared back at him from emerald green eyes.
Sam shivered as she placed a clawed hand against his cheek, running slowly down to his chin.
“Don’t be afraid, my pet. I promise that you won’t feel a thing.” She leaned in closer, her lips brushing against his. “In fact, I think you’ll quite enjoy this next part.”
Sam could see the timer counting down, not nearly fast enough.
He didn’t want to die. But then again, if there was any one way he could go, maybe this wasn’t so bad.
Sam gave himself a mental shake, just as the siren leaned in and placed her lips against his. The kiss felt nothing like it had the last time. While the siren was an excellent kisser, her spell failed to ensnare him. As Greta pulled back, Sam quickly composed his features in what he thought of as an enchanted look. Greta seemed pleased with that, and he breathed an internal sigh of relief.
She leaned in again, probably to suck out his remaining HP, just as the Stunned debuff vanished. Sam acted without even thinking. Raising both hands, he used both his attacks in quick succession, then quickly cast Mana Shot again as soon as the 2 second timer ran out.
You Deal: -14 Damage to blue siren (Mana Burn)(Critical).
You Deal: -8 Damage to blue siren (Mana Shot).
You Deal: -10 Damage to blue siren (Mana Shot)(Critical).
