The Steel Bastion

Roan was shocked, and just saying that would be an understatement. He graduated high-school, about a year ago, honours and all. His family life was stable, his working life was nonexistent and so was the dating scene.

Roan was dead or that's what he thought. What he was seeing couldn't be real, right?

Well it was. It was incredibly real.

Roan was scared, nineteen years on planet Earth and now what? Divine punishment? Cosmically juked? Overwhelmed he fainted onto the soft green grass of this unfamiliar place. The wind blew without care, the sun hidden behind thick white clouds.

.

.

.

He opened his eyes, he sighed. It was real. This world, the confusion he felt and the burning passion in taking control of his situation it was all he could think of. He got up as he tried to assess his situation.

The sickening purple glow of the evening sky glared into his eyes.

'Weird he thought.'

He looked to his left, then his right. It was plains as far as the eye could see but when he turn around he saw what may have seemed like a village. In its vicinity, black billowing smoke.

"That doesn't seems good," Roan said," but, I must find civilisation right? Eh I guess I'll find out."

He took in a large breath and sighed as he walked towards the smoke. Was it a bad decision? Would it be the end of him?

Well, we'll see.

Roan was barefooted, his cargo shorts a khaki color and on his chest a cheap undershirt. The air was a bit chilly as he walked over some of the bumps on the terrain. He twisted his ankle a few times but he was closer to his goal.

[DING]

A blue screen appeared in front of him and he fell down on his ass while putting up his arms for, protection.

[You have managed to obtain the 'Minor Terrain Traversal' skill.]

[Say status to see how you're doing.]

"What status?"

_______________________

| Roan Wilkinson

| Health Points : 50/ 50

| Magic Storage : 5/5

| Strength : 8

| Vitality : 15

| Dexterity : 8

| Speed : 11

| Skills :

[Minor Terrain Traversal]

[Rock Steady]

Roan screamed a bit while fanning at the blue screens. After his small episode he called out to the ethereal blue screen again.

Based on context clues he knew what a Traversal skill was but, [Rock Steady], nuh uh.

[Rock Steady] :

| Not easily swayed by physical force.

| Grants a passive non-stagger after one blow from a stronger opponent.

| + 2 Vitality

| Calm Mind Effect

| [Able to Evolve]

"I guess that's good?" He said, unsure of the mechanics of this, thing.

Calm mind? He made it a goal of his to look into that.

Roan whistled a song as he walked towards the billowing smoke. It got closer after each step. His [ Minor Traversal] skill upgraded to a [ Intermediate Traversal]. His large and stocky build became a little bit toned.

Roan was happy with this. He always wanted a strongman physique, their large hulking figures always enraptured him. That's why he did powerlifting and wrestling in the school, it was hard to say the least.

While in reminisce of his time on earth, he found the cause of the smoke. A pit of dirt and thickets. A group of ten soldiers stood around it facing forward. All were decked in chainmail and plated armour. One of them dashed towards him. In two bursts he closed the distance.

"What the f-"

"State your name sir!" the man commanded at Roan while pointing a spear at his neck.

The man was shorter than Rowan, by a foot or two.

'Did I grow? Focus!," Roan thought, "Roan!" He answered, flustered.

"Of where‽" The soldier asked while moving the spear closer to Roan's neck.

[Votem]

"Votem," Roan replied.

"Oh." The soldier replied.

He retired his spear then gave a three finger salute to his chest. He turned and commanded, "Follow."

Roan was oblivious to the meaning of the salute but ignoring that he followed.

He asked, "What are you burning?"

"Plague." The soldier replied curtly while his shoulders stiffened.

'Plague?' Roan thought.

"Oh, oh. I understand."

Plague, the land must have been ravaged by it and in olden times the answer to the plagued, a sweet release from fire.

They walked on in silence, pass the guards of the pit. On the way, there were other pits like it surround by soldiers in the same attire. It was a harrowing experience ad the bright skies and foliage met the woeful mess of pits and fire.

"Where are we going?" Roan asked to somewhat lighten the heavy nature of their walk.

"To have you tested for the disease." The man replied while rolling his tense shoulders.

"I see." Roan replied.

"What is your name?" Roan continued.

"Alfie, Alfie of Watersprouse." The soldier replied.

"Never heard of it." Roan said.

Of course he didn't know, he wasn't even from this place, this world. Ha.

"You wouldn't, far north, small." Alfie replied, annoyed. "Can you stop."

" Sure."

As they continued on a 'leisurely' stroll they came upon a tent. It looked like a pure white and beige pastels. People were going in and out, like an ant hill. Mostly soldiers and maybe child soldiers. All with masks on.

'Or dwarves,' thought Roan.

They stopped a distance away from the tent.

"Lord Roschem, I seek your audience!" Alfie said aloud.

" Aye I'm coming Alfie!" The voice sounded with a somewhat muffled but heavy Scottish-English accent.

A man about the same height as Alfie came out of the tent. He looked like a classic plague doctor. Coat and all, instead of dark tones he wore white. The hems of his robe slightly dirty.

"Oh, another one?"

'Another one!'

"Oh well, bring him in." Lord Roschem said as he turned and went into the tent.

Alfie turned his head towards Roan and directed him towards the tent. He gulped. He walked towards the large tent with Alfie. He bumped into some of the little guys coming out of the tent. There little deep voices rumbled. Definitely dwarves.

This was going to be a hell of a checkup.