Warband

Chapter 3. Damage Control.

Silas woke with a start, the events of the night before slamming home as sleep cleared from his foggy mind. Sunlight streamed in through the gap in the drapes, and it appeared that he had gotten a good night’s rest despite the craziness he had experienced last night. Almost convinced it had all been a dream, Silas opened the nightstand and saw his pistol and the spare magazines waiting for him.

There, alongside the pistol, were the spent rounds he had picked up from the garage floor the night before. At the back of the drawer was Doc’s bayonet that the little burglar had dropped. A quick whiff of the pistol confirmed that it had been fired the night before. Absently, he reminded himself to clean the weapon later. Silas still had proper weapons maintenance ingrained into him from the war.

“Well Buster, are you sleeping in?” Silas asked. The dog roused himself with a quiet huff and stretched. His coat was getting long and shaggy, Silas would have to make an appointment with the groomers to get him taken care of. A memory of his wife insisting on this breed of dog caused a pang of sadness. She had loved Buster and made sure he never missed his grooming appointments, even having the groomer tie a ridiculous bandanna around his neck each time she brought him home.

Standing up, Silas was happy to see that he didn’t need his cane this morning. The house was a bit chilly, so he put on his old Army coat before pulling the pistol from the nightstand and tucking it into his waistband. Before he had slept last night, he had replaced the spent rounds in the partially empty magazine. That also went into his mental “to do” list. He needed another box of hollow points for the .45, all he had for reloads was half a box of old ball ammo.

“No time for breakfast just yet, let’s check out the garage first,” Silas said as they entered the small living room next to the kitchen where Buster’s bowls were. Despite being indignant at having to wait for his breakfast, the prospect of going outside seemed to overcome Buster’s pouting, and he followed Silas out onto the front porch.

Inhaling a deep breath, the crisp Fall morning air felt good in Silas’ lungs as he looked around his property. The leaves on the red maple trees were just starting to turn, and several noisy birds were calling out to each other. The whole scene in front of him gave off a sense of normalcy that was comforting to Silas. Fall had always been his favorite time of year.

Just like the night before, nothing seemed disturbed, and the rollup garage doors were still closed and locked. Silas had built the oversized garage himself, much to his wife’s annoyance since it had nearly as much square footage as the house. Before he had physically declined, Silas had loved to tinker with his Mustang, adding and upgrading various parts to keep it in top condition.

Unlocking the side door, Silas drew his pistol and entered. Buster had run off, not smelling anything interesting in the garage and trotted off to choose a nearby tree to take care of his morning bodily functions. Hitting the lights, several fluorescent fixtures started to hum, banishing any shadows remaining in the garage.

Sadly, his destroyed car wasn’t a nightmare, and the badly battered and abused Mustang sat right where he had left it. He no longer could drive, but even after he had sold off his other car when Lisa passed, Silas had kept the Mustang. It had been something he had helped build, and he had loved blasting down the back roads in the car, hearing its V8 engine roar. Before preparing it for storage, Silas had spent a month bringing the car back to a completely stock condition.

Now, all that work was undone, and he didn’t think there was a single body panel on the car that hadn’t been dented, scratched, or destroyed. The pickaxe that had been the cause of the worst of the damage still lay on the ground. With a spike of pain from his lower back protesting the action, Silas bent down and grabbed the pickaxe, hanging it back in its proper place on the wall rack with similar tools.

Everything else seemed to be where he’d left it. Those vicious little people didn’t have time to do more than damage his car before Silas had interrupted them. He did notice one other thing that out of place as he looked around, Doc’s footlocker had been pulled off the shelf he had placed it on, and the contents were partially spilled out over the floor.

With a grunt of effort, Silas lifted the footlocker upright and back against the wall. There was no way he was going to be able to lift it back onto the shelf with his back. As the footlocker was righted, a rifle slipped out and clattered onto the concrete floor.

Grabbing the familiar weapon, Silas’ training kicked in and he automatically performed a functions check on it. The rifle was an M16A1, and it had an old, loaded 20-round magazine inserted into the magazine well, but no round was chambered. Silas slung the rifle over his shoulder and opened the footlocker to inspect if anything was missing.

The items inside were a jumbled mess, but there, on the top, was that strange idol Doc had pulled from the temple so many years ago. It had been about the size of his fist, and probably had been the head of something or someone before time had worn it almost smooth. Pushing it aside to make room for rifle and bayonet, Silas felt a powerful jolt, almost like he had touched a live wire.

From behind him, a blue glow started on the garage floor, that same swirly thing he had seen last night. Turning, Silas tried to grab the rifle off his shoulder, but his hand wouldn’t let go of the idol. Instead of murderous burglars spewing out from the swirling light, Silas was being pulled in. He screamed for help as the hand grasping the idol pulled him across the concrete and into the light.

Hearing his distress, Buster began to bark and charged after Silas. As he was pulled into the light, Silas began to fall, only to see Buster jump in right after him. Silas began yelling and Buster began howling as they seemed to fall into darkness and the blue glow above faded from view.

Words began to appear before Silas’ eyes, and the sensation of falling changed to one of floating.

You have been chosen by the artifact. The System has identified you as a viable candidate for entry into the pit. Despite your world’s mana-starved condition, individual induction into the System will now begin. A link between your world and the Pit of Bhalkur has already been established. This link is limited but may expand as the mana flow to your world improves.

“Uh, hello? Is someone there?” Silas asked, confused and freaked out over what was going on.

“Whoof?” Buster barked in the darkness, somewhere close to Silas.

Please remain silent as the initial calibration is completed.

“Who are you, what’s going on?” Silas demanded, quickly losing his patience.

You have been connected to the System through your interaction with an ancient artifact. This artifact grants you access to a spatial anomaly known as the Pit of Bhalkur.

Inside the Pit, you will be tested, and tasked with defending not only your world, but countless others from the evils that lurk inside the pit. As soon as your induction is complete, you’ll be sent to the Pit of Bhalkur and you may, or may not, be granted additional information at that time.

“Systems? Anomaly? I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Silas said.

Induction into the System is now complete. Think of the word ‘status’ to continue on your journey. You will now be given a brief time to review your status before being sent to your destination.

“Status?” Silas thought. More words appeared before him. Thankfully, they were legible, despite Silas not having his reading glasses on.

Welcome, being known as Silas Ward. Congratulations! You have been recruited to participate in the conquest of the Pit of Bhalkur. Rid the System of its taint alongside, or in opposition to the other participants, and you will be richly rewarded.

You have been awarded the Linguistic Adaptation Interface.

Status:

Silas Ward

Tier 0, Rank 0.

Inductee, no current class. Attain Tier 0, Rank 1 and complete the tutorial to unlock class options.

Experience/experience needed for next rank: 1/10.

Skills: None.

Abilities:

Linguistic adaptation interface. This internal interface is present and active in most System inducted beings. The interface allows the being to understand all spoken and written languages. A short time of acclimatization will be required before complete comprehension is achieved.

“Hello, anyone out there? I’m not sure what this is all about,” Silas asked.

Do you wish to proceed to your destination, the Pit of Bhalkur? Y/N.

“I’d like to go home,” Silas asked.

That destination is not currently available. Do you wish to proceed to your destination, the Pit of Bhalkur?

Silas was more confused than ever, but it didn’t seem like anyone, or anything, was willing to explain to him what was going on. He confirmed that he wanted to go to this pit place. Wherever he was going to be sent, it had to be better than floating in the darkness where nobody would answer his questions.

You are being transported to your destination, The Pit of Bhalkur.

That didn’t sound like a pleasant place to Silas. At least he wasn’t going alone, as he could hear Buster barking somewhere close by. Not only did he have his best pup, but he also had the rifle, pistol, and bayonet if he needed it. If this pit was as bad as it sounded, he was going to ruin the day of anyone that tried to mess with him and Buster.