Chapter 2: Chapter 2 Calling card

A machete sheath made of a fine black leather appeared in front of Jack who after inspecting it attached it to his belt. He had realised something having it was in the sheath it let him retain the borrowed strength then when he launched it earlier he felt a lot weaker when it left his person. “At least now I don’t have to worry about wandering the open landscape looking like a machete wielding maniac.”

The same roulette wheel appeared as before but this time there was a slider to determine how many times he wanted to spin. Jack had set it to one and with a musical tune it began to spin. After twenty seconds a notification window popped up.

Jack’s jaw dropped harder then the machete did. “Are you fucking kidding me I want a refund I waste three people and all I get in return is rusty machete god dam it.” But then a idea popped into his head a dark an nefarious idea “maybe this could be useful you know my dad always did say make your mark” the wind had started to pick up making the severed head roll into his feet. A wicked smile formed across his face, he didn’t smile much but when he did anything looking at him would faint. Most of his left cheek was missing showing some of his extremely sharp white teeth, his left side of his faced had received damage from acid, fire, knife and all kinds of blunt weapons. He stroked it lovingly “I wish I could experience mothers games once again well back to the matter at hand.” His long boney finger curled around the severed head’s hair.

His free hand grabbed the rusty machete’s handle and with a bit of effort pulled it from the ground. There was a thick smell of iron and death. Snow started to fall as Jack approached the headless corpse. As he precariously balanced the severed head on its chest. He gripped the rusty machete with both hands and raised in high above his head and brought it down with all of his might. It made a sickening crunch and squelching sound as it punched through the skull and and ribcage of his victim. “Now lets find some clothes from this world” as he scrounged through the wreckage he found a trunk full of clothes “now where in business.” As he rifled trough his victims belongings he found many fine and expensive garments but didn’t go for them. 

“Can’t be drawing to much attention to myself” after a few minutes of searching he decided on a black shirt with a grey waistcoat and black trousers he quickly got changed his skinny body littered with cuts and wounds. He may have been skinny but under his clothes there was densely packed muscle. That why people of his old world always assumed he was weak. He kept his underwear, socks and shoes since they were more comfortable. Snow started to whip up as a more ferocious wind took hold. He hid the machete sheath under the left side of the borrowed trousers belt the handle poked out for easy removal. He covered him self with a black and grey cloak so he was sort of protected from the elements. He never needed a walking cane before hand but he opted for it as a main weapon rather then pulling the machete out every time he got in trouble. It was made of black oak and was the simplest cane he could find. The others had gold decals or were too expense looking. 

The clothes hung off of Jack as he started to move toward a town in the distance. “I need to find a tailor these clothes are way to big.” It was surprising had to walk with the cane and make it look natural enough. His eyes got heavier and heavier as he drew closer to the town. He checked his pocket for the small bag of bronze coins he had received before being sent away. “Those bastards will pay for the humiliation they caused no one disrespects a Skyhart and leaves with their limbs intact”  as he approached the town his nose started to violently twitch. “My my my what do I smell today the familiar smell of one of my classmates” he started to salivate as he licked his lips. He walked down the town’s cobblestone streets most of the towns honest folk had abandoned the streets to those whose goals were more nefarious.

He finally arrived at what appeared to be a pub it wasn’t very impressive it did have a beat up sign on the wall it read “The rusty shovel pub and inn, no orcs allowed” as he entered the first thing that hit him was the stench of alcohol and sweat. He felt like the moment he entered every eye was on him. The man behind the bar was old about sixty to seventy his grey hair was tied into a bun and his facial hair was well maintained. Jack was sure to make sure that no one saw his face “A room for the night and a pint of whatever is the strongest alcohol you have” the barkeep looked at him strangely. 

“Did ya com to see the hero as well”

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“No what hero”

“I thought you were like the rest of them in here, he slayed a very powerful monster that was bothering the town” he passed Jack a large jug full to the brim with a strong smelling black liquid and a key. “That will be three large bronze coins please.” Jack fished them out of the small leather bag and handed them to the barkeep.

“Is he in this tavern”

The barkeep did a hearty laugh “ow I wish, no he is staying in the local manner as a guest of the regional lord.” Jack had to tilt his head to drink the alcohol. After drinking the alcohol he headed towards a wooden staircase at the far end of the tavern. He noticed a pair of men playing cards they wore light armour consisting of a metal shoulder guard and a strong looking leather breastplate. Their swords leant against their table.

“Must be adventures or the town guard” Jack thought to himself as he made his way up the stairs he checked what number was on the key it was thirteen. The room was better than he was expecting it was clean, the bed was freshly made and there was a beautiful view of some mountains in the window. “Horror system lucky draw open” Jack used his last spin and as before the roulette appeared and started to spin after twenty seconds it stopped.

A ville of clear liquid appeared on the floor as Jack picked it up to investigate it he noticed its label.

A wicked and cruel idea popped into Jacks head and he started to giggle to himself “ow I am one cruel son of a bitch” he soon after drifted to sleep thinking about his upcoming victims face of horror.

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