Word that a gnome was staying in the abbey spread like wildfire. Most of the brothers and sisters in the cloistered wing didn’t really care one way or another, they were mostly too focused on their studies and disciplines to take note of a single traveler, no matter how unusual. The same could not be said for the children living in the orphanage side.
To Melia’s great relief, these were not the typical orphans one found in most fiction or fairytales: destitute, downtrodden, and starving, their sole purpose to promote pity and stir emotions of the reader. As Melia had never met an orphan in her original world, she couldn’t say whether that trope held any merit. But these children, from toddlers all the way to youth on the cusp of adulthood, were lively, energetic, and full of smiles, their full bellies and grinning faces telling a story of care and contentment.
According to a different sister, as Grace had duties in the kitchen to perform, Melia learned that not all the children living in the abbey were true orphans. The clergy also acted as teachers and sitters for the kids, turning the place into something of a boarding school and daycare. However, there were still children who had really lost their parents, one way or another. This was still a real world where monsters roamed free, and though it was rare, bandits did attack occasionally and people fell into misfortune. Such children, at least in the communities surrounding Abbyton, were received with open arms and well looked after.
So it was that Melia found herself perched atop a stack of crates and old blankets, waiting for dinner to be served, telling stories of her adventures to a gathered audience hanging on her every word.
Gnomes, for all that they were small, were very animated, oftentimes becoming famous [Bards], storytellers, or masters of theater.
What started as an exercise to relieve boredom and bring a few smiles soon turned into full blown story time.
At some point, Melia noticed her audience had grown, no longer only entertaining the smallest children. Several older ones had stopped to listen, alongside some young adults in their early twenties and a few [Priests] wearing the abbey’s colors taking notes and looking like they were attending a class. While her first two or three tales were told from her own perspective, she shifted to something of a passive observer spinning a narration, her name, and those of her friends and party members, subtly left out. Instead of “Brandy, Hank, Zeke, and Miguel,” in “her” party, it became an adventure featuring “the [Warrior], the [Druid], the [Cleric], the [Hunter], and the [Mage].”
She wasn’t sure exactly why she switched to leave their names out, only that it allowed her a degree of anonymity in case her audience deemed her adventures in a video game too unrealistic.
“...the [Warrior] led the tight-knit band of adventurers to the gates of the Grand Jury…”
“...with a beastial roar and a swipe of his mighty Bear claw, the [Druid] shattered the Pylon…”
“...[Cleric], elf though she was, would not be swayed by the temptation of raw mana given form…”
“...and so, there stood the intrepid [Mage] and the stoic [Hunter], the rest of the party fallen…”
Melia paused, perched dramatically on the edge of her box, watching the younger children in her audience lean closer in anticipation as she lowered her voice.
“‘Fools!’ the Executor cried, ‘This is merely a setback!’. The [Hunter], reaching deep into his enchanted quiver, called down the [Fury of Heavens], blanketing the arena in a wall of arrows so thick, the [Mage] could slip to the [Cleric], fallen in battle, and uncorked her [Phoenix Breath], but alas! As the Executor raged, some of his magic hit the [Mage], shattering the potion…!”
Her audience all gasped and held their breath at all the right moments, even up until the end, where Melia put a hand dramatically over her forehead.
“But alas, it was but a pyrrhic victory in the end. Were it not for the grace of the goddess Celestara, who guided their spirits back from the light, alone would the poor [Mage] be, weeping gently over the bodies of her friends!”
Melia finished with a dramatic swoon, causing the entire crowd to erupt in applause.
“Well put!” several of the older matrons said, striding forward at the story’s conclusion. “Now, time to wash up before dinner. Chop chop!”
Half the children groaned, having to leave their sudden new form of entertainment, while the rest leapt excitedly and began waving around imaginary swords and casting make-believe spells, recreating their favorite parts of the stories. Melia was about to hop down and see about a meal of her own. She hadn’t eaten in two full days and the growing hunger was starting to get impossible to ignore. Before she could, two tall forms approached her.
Taller than she was on top of standing on her box.
They were two of the older children, or younger adults, depending on how one looked at it. A young man and woman, looking in their late and early twenties, respectively, both human. The man was probably about 6 feet tall, he had broad shoulders and a kind smile that seemed to make his pale grey eyes sparkle, with short cropped brown hair that didn’t seem tamable. The girl was a full head shorter, coming up to his shoulders, but that still made her seem plenty tall to Melia, who had to look up at them even standing on her box. She had fiery red hair set into a ponytail, and she had a lithe, wiry build that spoke of somebody built for speed and endurance more than strength. Both of them held a sort of hidden strength that belied their young ages. They were probably budding adventurers, too far along to call noobs but nothing close to a veteran. The boy spoke first.
“That was quite the telling of Brandywine’s Bane,” he said with a smirk, pulling over a chair to help level the playing field. Melia could always tell the good ones because they made an effort to meet her eyes.
“Oh?” she said curiously. Brandywine was Brandy’s character’s last name. Eluna Brandywine, elven [Cleric]. She wasn’t sure exactly what the man was talking about, since several stories she told tonight featured her best friend. But the man was polite and complimenting her, or so she assumed, so she stuck out her hand. “Melia.”
Both the boy and the girl blinked at the outstretched hand in surprise before the girl grinned widely.
“Jessica. Jessica Miller. And the big oaf here is Alastair Trevain,” she said, elbowing Alastair hard in the ribs. He kept his stoic smile on the entire time and didn’t react. Both of their hands dwarfed her own as they shook it, and Melia could tell these two were very close.
“We help keep the munchkins preoccupied so they don’t cause too much trouble. Thanks for making our job easier for the night.”
“I’d say,” Alastair laughed, “A quite welcome change indeed. And I meant what I said. That was quite the retelling. It’s not one I’ve heard from any of the local [Bards]. Perhaps it came from a different region? I’ll confess, I’ve never had the pleasure of listening to a gnomish [Bard]. Is it considered ‘traditional’ to change the names of the heroes into their classes in gnomish storytelling? I’ll admit I was confused at first, but soon it was obvious, and the detachment from the character gave the story a…different sort of charm.”
“Pft,” Jessica snorted, “Obviously it’s so they can be more crass. Honestly, have you ever heard anybody describe The Great Cleric as whiney before? And when she begged to spare the harmless roaming mana constructs…most tellings weave a tale of compassion for life in all its forms, but I suddenly got the impression that the other heroes were simply indulging her in some weird obsession.”
“Oh!” Melia cried, finally understanding what they were referencing. It was her last story, when she and her friends ran an endgame dungeon during the game’s second expansion. It…had not ended so well.
“You know that story, do you?”
She was curious if any player exploits were known to the residents of these lands, or if this was simply a world that acted like the game she knew.
“Know it?” Jessica repeated with a scoff. Alastair nodded and took over.
“It’s one of the most famous tales around. A story of triumph and sorrow; a reminder of the gods’ grace and our own mortality, no matter our level.”
“Again, excuse the lug,” Jessica rolled her eyes. “He’s a [Paladin] of the Holy Light order. Don’t get him started about ‘divine providence’.” She added the last two words with exaggerated air quotes.
“Am I wrong?” he laughed, but did not launch into a sermon. Jessica shrugged, unable to refute him. Instead, Jessica turned to Melia, giving her the abridged version she knew.
“So this party, the Daybreakers, eventually they get known as the saviors of the world, ender of calamities, yada yada, but we all know that. But this is before all then, when they just got started out, and they were called to cast down a heretical branch of the Radiant Star lightbringers. They were young and, comparatively, inexperienced, and that almost got them killed when they finally made it to the top of the Executor’s Terrace. Some of them did die, but apparently the gods favored them, and because they cast down the Fallen Executor, and one of them survived, they were allowed to return.”
“Some say it was to teach them humility,” Alastair added helpfully, “To prepare them for the trials ahead.”
Jessica rolled her eyes.
“Right, and others say it’s because the gods have funny whims. Never expect to get resurrected from a dungeon…,” she said as if reciting a rule that had been long drilled into her.
“...because it never happens outside of one,” finished Alastair. “Nobody knows why the star travelers held the attention of the divine. Except during the Age of Upheaval, such occurrences are rare at best.”
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Melia was gaining some subtle insight into how the world worked, and she’d need to discreetly research if dungeons, and resurrection, were real in this world. “Star Travelers” was the term used in-game for lore reasons to explain players. Heroes and adventurers from another world that came to seek fame and glory in this one, and in exchange for doing the will of the gods they received their favor. That’s how respawning was explained if anybody bothered to try figuring it out from the perspective of a “resident”, or a game NPC. Which Melia had done, reading every interactive book the game had hidden away in her quest to become a lore master.
Also, the “Age of Upheaval”? A lot had changed in a hundred years, or else she knew far less than she thought.
“But that’s just it, isn’t it?” Jessica retorted. It seemed like the duo were very familiar with each other if they fell so quickly into comfortable bickering. “They were heroes. As in, of course they had the gods' favor. If you ask me, it sounds like back then, it was more rare for parties like that to actually, you know, die, rather than the gods bringing them back.”
Melia let the sounds of their voices wash over her. She’d gained some keen info but she didn’t know what to do with it. It sounded like the players she knew and gamed with were all considered “heroes” that had the favor of one or more gods and, essentially, couldn’t die. It checked out, from a game standpoint, and accounted for the ability to respawn. But the way they very clearly venerated her friends as living legends made her feel funny. They were normal people, flawed, broken, and imperfect, just like she was. They weren’t some immortal saints to be placed onto a pedestal.
Melia didn’t have the heart to tell them the truth to that story. The real reason the party failed The Executor’s Terrace. It wasn’t that they scraped and fought, tooth and nail, blood sweat and tears for every inch they gained against an insurmountable foe. They didn’t defy fate, altering the course of history, blazing a path of righteousness and redemption. It wasn’t even the first time they ran the darn instance, the first time they beat it or the first time they lost. For them, it was an average Friday night turned Saturday morning. To them, it was a way to shirk responsibility that would most certainly come back to bite them in the ass.
The reason they nearly failed was not due to divinity or heroics.
It was because it was 2 am when they were raiding The Executor’s Terrace and Brandy had fallen asleep. When the healer stops healing in an endgame dungeon, there’s only so long the tank can survive. Their party was exceedingly skilled at their classes and they pulled all the stops to try and salvage their run.
The Executor’s Terrace was a 5 man dungeon instance that had been released months before and the group of friends had beaten it many times over, they had it on farm already. Most of them didn’t even need the gear drops, some of them had already moved onto the 20 man raid instance located next to the dungeon. They were doing it simply for the lulz. And a chance at a rare “arcane construct” pet from a mid run boss drop for Brandy’s collection. Brandy’s "compassionate speech” Jessica brought up when she “begged to spare life in all its forms” was, in reality, Brandy doing a weird, bizarre, and downright embarrassing pre-fight ritual where she beseeched the rng to give her the drops. It was borderline uncomfortable and fanatic, but her friends indulged her.
And then there was the “epic last stand”, which, to be fair, was epic in its own way.
They’d gotten the boss down into the double digits by the time Melia was the only one left, and, since she was still playing a mage back then, she kited it around the arena, popping all of her skills, cooldowns, and trinkets just to survive. She didn’t even get a chance to actually use her resurrection potion because it could only be used out of combat, and if she dropped aggro with [Invisibility], the boss would reset because there would be nothing for it to target. The boss was in single digits of health and she popped [Ice Tomb] which made her immobile and invincible, just long enough for the boss to die to dots. In retrospect, it was obvious they should have wiped and started over.
The really ironic thing about the whole misadventure was that because she somehow managed to survive, the boss was able to be looted, but because she wasn’t a healer, everybody had to release their spirit from their dead bodies, run back to the dungeon from the graveyard, and climb the entire dungeon again. Even with the way being fully cleared already, by the time they got to the boss chamber, the boss, and the loot, already despawned. No loot, no pet drop, and a week long dungeon lockout. Not their crowning achievement, though they got a good laugh out of it later.
A very far cry from the heroic tale of a party rising to fame, fortune, and the glory of the gods.
“So, Melia the gnome,” Melia heard Jessica call her name and tuned back in. “As I said before, is this telling regional? Are you a [Bard]?”
“[Bard]? Me? Nah.”
“Aw, come on,” Jessica pouted. “Look, Alastair already told you his class-“
“You told her my class,” he muttered, instantly ignored.
“-and I’m a [Hunter]. Working on getting some sort of dual spec so I can rank up into a [Ranger]. So what is it? What are you?”
“What am I?” Melia asked coyly, but she was secretly biding her time. She just met this couple, and even though she liked them already she didn’t know what she wanted to say. Jessica, who never seemed to have that problem, jutted her lip in an even bigger pout.
“Come. On! We just got in this morning and the construction workers were all talking about this weird visitor who was both tiny and strong! That’s gotta be you, right? So I’m thinking you’ve gotta be a decent level. Alastair and I are registered adventurers, so our level isn’t bad either, and we’re always looking to expand the group. Two of ours are still in Hammerfall, so right now it’s just us. Hearing your stories, a [Bard] makes sense. Maybe you’ve got some levels in other classes to raise your strength, or else, I don’t know, maybe the strength they were talking about was metaphorical or something?”
Melia blinked, taken back by the lungs on this girl. She seemed to squeeze an entire conversation into a single breath. Perhaps that’s how they complemented each other? Alastair was the calm, silent type while Jessica had all the charisma? But she also sounded genuine. Not like she was secretly digging for answers or putting up a false face. Melia could respect that. She liked that a lot. Melia gained a mischievous smile of her own as she decided what she was going to say.
“What am I?” she repeated slyly. “I’m a dragon.”
For several long, tense seconds, the small bubble surrounding the three of them was silent. Then, Jessica cracked, and both she and Alastair began laughing. Full, belly clutching laughs, nearly doubling over.
“Oh! Oh! That’s a good one!” Jessica smiled brightly. “I’m gonna use that some time. And that delivery? Choice. Definitely a [Bard]”.
Melia continued to smile and let their refusal to believe her wash over her. If they didn’t want to accept the truth, she couldn’t force them. And, strangely, she found herself liking them even more. They didn’t get weirded out, blow her off, or get mad at her for appearing arrogant or whatever. Instead, they still had their friendly smiles.
Also, amusingly, [Bard] was never one of the classes she leveled. She had a max level [Dancer], which came out at around the same time, when the developers were having a crossover promo with one of those guitar and band playing games, and she loved that character. But no. Not a [Bard].
Melia continued to smile and wait for them to dry their eyes.
“Melia, right?” Jessica snickered. “Next you’ll be telling me you’re actually Melia, as in, Melia Marcus, legendary [Archmage], grandmaster of the arcane, member of Daybreakers.”
Melia’s mouth fell open into a comical O.
“Hahaha!” Jessica laughed and actually pointed. “You were, weren’t you? You were totally going to try to pull the wool over my eyes! As if an entire generation of grandparents didn’t name their kids after those heroes. I’m pretty sure I know three Eluna’s and none of them are elves!”
“I know 4 Hanks,” Alastair shrugged. “It’s a common thing.”
Melia recovered, if only to hide her embarrassment of getting called out. That was her name, even if it wasn’t anymore. And once upon a time, she did have that title, [Archmage], when she got her server first achievement for the current level cap. The title disappeared when the achievement got deleted.
She glanced at her status, glad her companions were distracted…because here, in this world, the title remained.
Something to worry about later.
“So, how about it, not-a-bard-totally-a-dragon Melia? Wanna join us tomorrow for some hunting?”
At that moment, a bell in the dining hall rang, and all three of their bellies growled in protest.
“After dinner,” Alastair said. “Let’s talk after dinner.”
Seated around the table, Melia stared, unable to contain the saliva pooling in her mouth threatening to spill out into drool. This was the first food she had encountered since waking up, the first she had eaten for nearly 48 hours. Her draconic nature was doing funny things to her body, but her body wasn’t actually a gnome, it was a dragon transformed into one. So, while she now could apparently live for days without touching food, as soon as she did, she couldn’t stop eating.
The table was piled high with some sort of simple, roasted mutton, but to Melia, it was the feast of kings. Flavors she didn’t know existed exploded on her tongue, fueling her ravenous hunger instead of sating it. She wasn’t sure if those flavors simply didn’t exist back home, if her new body had the ability to perceive more flavors than her old one, or if she’d simply forgotten what real food tasted like. For the last 7 years, spent encased in her glass tube, Melia was fed nutrient pastes exclusively. They were meant to taste like real things, such as strawberries or steak, but when one paste had the same exact consistency as every other, it all blended together. Not to mention they were bland and boring anyway, much of the flavor lost in transition to mush.
Melia didn’t even realize she’d eaten 4 whole plates of food, more than any other person at the table by double, and that everybody was desperately trying not to stare, that she came back to her senses and slowed down. It was also where she first heard her two new friends bantering amongst each other where they probably didn’t know she could hear, an argument-slash-bet that seemed like it was going to be a very popular theme if she stuck with them.
She was calling it “dragon, not a dragon.”
It was exactly what it sounded like.
“Ok, I’m sold,” Alastair said, his eyes flicking to the stack of plates Melia licked clean. “She’s totally a dragon. No way a real gnome could even fit that much food into their body.”
“Come off it,” Jessica scoffed, nudging his elbow. “Not a dragon. I’ve seen you eat that much when we put in a full day killing monsters. Now imagine if you do something like survive a dungeon wipe. Or, maybe, she’s higher level than us. We don’t actually know what she is and I’ve seen rank 5s get kicked out of buffets.”
Melia ignored them, mostly because she was unintentionally eavesdropping on a private conversation between the two but also because she had a lot to think about. She hadn’t exactly spent her first 24 hours in this new world productively, but she couldn’t really be blamed for that. Now that she had accepted her reality for what it was, having a new body in a new world, one she was both intimately familiar with and refreshingly unknown, she needed to start working toward some answers.
She helped clean up after dinner and was given one of the cloister’s spare rooms for visitors, since it wasn’t full, and she allowed her mind to wander. The room itself was barely larger than a closet, with a single bed, a stool, and a simple wooden desk under a window, but Melia didn’t mind. The mattress was surprisingly soft for something relegated to a spare room in a cloister full of [Priests], or maybe that was yet another new aspect to her new body. Did dragons sleep on the ground? Surely they wouldn’t fit on any normal bed, certainly not her monstrous 100 foot long thing. Or did they sleep on giant piles of gold? That couldn’t be comfortable or soft, no matter how amusing.
She had questions and no answers, but she had a really good place to start looking. Tomorrow, she’d take Jessica and Alastair up on their offer of adventure.
