Chapter Two

Bob had no idea how long it’d been.

In the beginning he figured that this… whatever it was, would be finished up relatively quickly. Either he was simply in the midst of an end-of-life delusion – his leading theory at the time – or the situation he was in was somehow real; meaning he was stuck in the body of an immobile creature with one hit point and a position reserved for it at the bottom of the food chain.

Either way, Bob expected to either be languishing in non-existence or regretting his religious choices within the hour.

It had, he felt he could say with reasonable certainty, been far, far longer than that.

After a while, he started to count the droplets in an attempt to keep track of time. An attempt which failed miserably when some unknown change caused the flow of water to surge, coming out less in droplets and more in streams. Enough so that he was even briefly concerned that the cavern was going to flood.

Well, perhaps less concerned and more… resigned to it and all further coming tragedies. But still, it was on his mind.

It didn’t come to pass, however. All the water streaming harmlessly around him to fill up some endless reservoir deeper in the cave system. Leaving him stuck with his sad, unchanging view.

It left quite a bit of time for thought. Deep thought, even.

For a time, visions of hell or purgatory continued to plague his mind. He reached out to ancient memories of going to church with his grandparents, hoping to find either solace or instruction. He scoured his mind for any explanation as to why he was here, silently whispering apologies and plans of change to every deity he could remember.

In the end, nothing he tried accomplished anything. Nothing responded to him outside of ‘the system’; which would obediently open up his status pages when requested, but little else.

Eventually, he simply allowed himself to… fade. His mind actively disassociating itself from his ‘body’ and escaping into long, rambling daydreams. His sanity slowly being eaten away, bit by bit.

Until he heard a metallic noise rattle somewhere off in the distance.

He jerked his consciousness back into focus at the sound, unsure whether or not he had imagined it.

Until it repeated itself.

And then again.

Soon the noises began to get louder, more distinguishable.

The sound of rattling metal. Of heavy, thudding footsteps. Of muted conversation.

Of people.

He felt the entirety of his existence begin to strain as he attempted – and failed – to force his vision towards the sounds. Desperately hoping they would continue heading this way.

Even as he was making his mental pleas however, a greater portion of himself wondered at the point of them. He’d been transformed into something inhuman. Something which might not appear alive at all. Even if whoever was making those sounds was actually heading his way, it would probably be best if Bob was simply ignored. Treated as a useless bit of debris littering the tunnel. Worst case scenario, they did notice what he was. After which point, if his species description was correct, he would likely be summarily disposed of.

Of course, given that staying alive meant an unknowable length of time spent staring at a damp ceiling, perhaps the two options should be swapped.

As the sounds crept ever closer however, all thoughts of stranger assisted suicide either faded or were put on hold. Especially when he started hearing the edges of conversation.

It became obvious fairly quickly that there was more than one being heading towards him. Different tones and pitches echoed along the stone walls, the words still unintelligible, but the situation somehow less so. They were engaged in a debate. One which the higher pitched of the two was obviously losing, if the whiny and plaintive twang in their voice was any evidence.

As the voices became more understandable he, for a moment, thought they were speaking English. Their conversation had grown clear enough that he could make out certain words and phrases. The first being a gruff ‘shut up’ from a voice he didn’t recognize; bringing the total number of people to at least three. This was followed by the high-pitched voice declaring that he ‘was just asking questions’ and a put-upon sigh from the third.

It took him a few moments to realize that while he had understood the meaning of the words, their actual pronunciation was utterly alien to him.

Bob would probably be more shocked by this revelation had he not, only a short time ago, been transformed into a sapient coin purse. Comparatively, being given fluency in an alien language was slightly below par on the weirdness scale he’d become accustomed to. Enough so that he mentally waved the issue off, far more focused on what little of the conversation he could understand; rather than how he could understand it.

The author’s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

Finally, the clomping of boots rounded a corner and Bob realized they were likely in the same room as him. Almost certainly within vision. At least, if whatever you happened to see through was capable of movement. Which left him fairly shit out of luck.

Luckily, his new friends weren’t exactly trying to go unnoticed.

“Look, I’m not saying we should declare war on the entire clan or anything.” The whiny voice began again. “I’m just saying that with the bounty out in West Bridge, it’s just throwing money away to – Whoa! What happened to this poor asshole!?”

If Bob could have tensed up, he would have. While the beginning of the conversation sounded like it was pointed away from him, likely continuing a debate with his companions, the final exclamation felt directed at his exact position.

Luckily, his anxiety didn’t have much time to rise before it was interrupted by one of the whiny man’s partners.

“That.” The put-upon man said gustily. “Is why we aren’t going through with your dumbass idea to ambush a goblin patrol. This ‘poor asshole’ probably had the same thought. One I imagine he regretted after the first few of those javelins found their way into his guts.”

Bob felt himself starting to relax as the attention turned out not to be focused on him. Before then becoming instantly stressed again when he realized that he had apparently been lying next to a mutilated corpse.

“Hey! Looks like the little green shits left behind some loot! Must have been dumb as fuck not to notice it. Three-way split?”