Time to wake up

Blinking awake with a groan of pain at the sudden light, John stared at the ceiling above him, trying to mentally **** himself through the events of the day. ‘What a fucking weird dream. Werewolves? Really?’ He inwardly rolled his eyes before moving to try to get up only to find his wrist was bound to the bed. Finally looking around the room, he realized in panic he wasn’t at home, nor was he wearing anything. A sharp tug at the rope made him hiss in pain as it bit into his skin. Fighting hysteria, he pulled with both hands, hoping to either slip from the rope or break it. His wrist was raw and bleeding and his muscles sore before he gave up and flopped back onto the pillow. With no means of escape, John had nothing better to do than survey his surroundings. He was in a simple, rustically styled room; two of the walls were made of log and stone, with the furniture seemingly hand carved to match. A rough blanket covered him from the chest down and paintings of wolves lined the inner walls.

A woman he didn’t recognize walked in with a smile, “Oh good, you’re up.” John cast Observe as she closed the door behind her with a sound click of the latch. “How are you feeling? You heal remarkably fast for a human.”

“Where am I?” John awkwardly **** himself to a sitting position, struggling with one hand to keep the blanket covering his lap.

“Our home,” she smiled, glancing around the room before looking back at his bound wrist. “May I remove that for you? Dakota, my mate, was worried you’d attack someone…” she let her voice trail off, showing the teenager a small pocket knife.

Blinking in surprise, he nodded, “Uh, yeah.” She took the few steps over to the bed, and though he watched the blade, he was a little proud of himself for not flinching from it.

John switched his focus to look the kind woman over while she carefully cut and removed the rough hemp. Her long blonde hair was pulled back into a wavy ponytail, and her bright blue eyes reminded him of the white wolf in the forest. Fighting back a shudder at the memory, he looked away from her face and noticed red tribal style tattooed flames that snaked up her right arm only to disappear under a simple woven shirt, an interesting contrast to her fair skin. Though she was dressed more traditionally than the others had been, he noted her complexion looked more Nordic than Native American. As he rubbed his rope-burned wrist with a mumbled thanks, Kiana moved to the side and pulled a few drawers from the room’s dresser open.

“There are some old clothes in here; feel free to find something that fits you.” John blinked in confusion at that, curious why he couldn’t put his uniform back on. She stepped out of the room when he was about to ask, only half closing the door to continue the conversation. “Sorry, but we had to cut your clothes from you to get to the wound in your back.”

“W-wound?” John paused his search and reached back, feeling around the smooth skin for a sign of his injury while the motherly woman carried on explaining as if she hadn’t noticed the hint of panic in his voice.

“Bly carried you here with a shard of bark the size of your hand stabbed into you. Nearly severed your spine...” the gamer paled, suddenly sick to his stomach. Gamer’s Body was more OP than he had imagined. Without his powers, he’d probably be dead by now, or at least paralyzed. The thought lingered, making him painfully aware of the coarse feeling of denim against his legs as he pulled on a pair of jeans. Kiana’s voice trailed on as he sat back on the edge of the bed and put his head between his knees, breathing deep to keep from ruining the rug on the floor. “...but when we pulled all the forest debris from it, it closed on its own almost instantly, and you seemed to be in less pain. You’ve been asleep for almost an hour; Tala was getting worried.”

The mention of his savior made John come to his senses, and he opened the door, pulling on a musty band shirt that was a bit too large for him, “Is she okay? I didn’t mean-”

“She’s fine,” she cut off his apology. “We heal almost as quickly as you seem to.” Leading him down the hall to a small cottage kitchen, she chuckled as he looked around the house nervously. “Everyone’s gone. Dakota and Tala are talking to the Hunters and letting them know what happened. They showed up a few minutes after we did, summoned by that horn of yours. Sorry, but they insisted on confiscating it, and we thought it a fair trade for saving your life. The rest of your things are over there,” she pointed into the living area and he spotted his backpack propped against a couch with a pile of what used to be his uniform on top of it. Compared to everything else that had happened, he felt a bit silly he was so relieved he hadn’t lost it.

“Thanks, I really owe you guys.” The idea of just how much he owed them made him queasy, and he subtly checked his character sheet while putting his shredded and stained uniform into his bag.

With a gulp at the low health, he closed the screen, looking back at her as she set out a glass of water for him, focusing instead on gathering information like he would in an RPG. “Who are these hunters?”

“They’re an international Abyssal group that serves the lady Artemis. Most of them are archers, many of them are women, but the local group here helps keep our pack hidden. Dakota figured he should tell Miranda about the Cabalist we killed in their territory.” The more she explained, the more confused John felt.

“Hang on… Abyssal? Cabalist?” He shook his head, unable to process it all. “Slow down. I don’t think I can keep up like this. I only just got my powers this morning…”

Kiana blinked at him in surprise. “This morn- You don’t know…” her voice faded as she looked him over. “Alright. I’ll explain what I can while we wait for them to come back. First, why don’t you tell me what happened before we found you?”

Unsure of where to start, John sat next to his bag on the couch and broke down everything he could remember. Waking up with powers, learning new skills, and ending with his fight with the boar. “When I blew that horn, you guys showed up and saved me. I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t…” His voice drifted off and the pair stared at the wall a moment as she rubbed his back in soothing circles, having taken the seat next to him at some point in his story. It took them both some time to process the information before he shook his head, “So. Uh… sorry, you called that guy a Cabalist?”

“One of the worst groups in the Abyss,” a raised hand was enough to keep him from interrupting, “that’s what most of us call the hidden magical side of the world. The Cabal often collect young mages for horrible experiments or to **** them. I heard they even have a method of using kidnapped mages as batteries.” She watched him as she talked, and John was sure his emotions were unmasked by his exhaustion and shock as he tried to take it all in. “We don’t normally deal with them; we have our own enemies without crossing paths with the Order of the Golden Rose.” He caught her clenching her fists in the corner of his eye before she turned to him.

“The Order is… complicated. Technically good people, they fight the Cabal and work to protect humanity from the people and creatures of the Abyss. However, the lot of them are a bunch of religious zealots that will sooner kill you or control you than do anything to help…” A note of bitterness entered her voice, and John watched as Kiana looked down at her hands, shaking as she continued in a whisper, “Avoid them if you can, for your own sake, please. They kill even peaceful creatures, innocent or not, simply because they don’t understand them.”

The look of anguish on her face kept him from questioning it, though he could tell she was leaving something out. He just nodded as she took a calming breath before continuing, her voice once again more sure, “The closest we get to the Order is our friendship with the Hunters of Artemis. They have some kind of contract together, but the Hunters like it about as much as a tack in their paw.” The caring mother sighed, leaning back into the deep cushions of the well worn couch. “We stay in hiding because we’re called ‘monsters.’ There are people that hunt our kind down like it’s a sport,” her nose wrinkled and John’s stomach rolled again at the idea. “They call themselves Purifiers, as if they’re doing something good, but to us, they’re the real monsters…”

They sat in silence again, John taking in the gravity of the situation as she worked to calm herself down. After a few minutes, she scrubbed her face with her hands and looked over at him. “John, this morning you woke up in a world of constant war and survival. I’ve never heard of someone gaining powers like yours, but you need to be careful.”

“Yeah. Fuck…” His mind raced with realization and he mumbled, remembering his scuffle with the boar.