Day 5. Monday 10:30am.
Polly had left the house, Anna and Zia were in the kitchen cooking, and Jack was walking towards Polly’s room with an old jerky bag filled with spider egg sacs. Despite still feeling sore from the previous day’s fights with a goblin and a rogue, he had a happy bounce in his step.
Finally, time to enact my revenge, Jack thought, smiling as he pushed open the door to Polly’s room. “Still as messy as ever,” he muttered, closi...
2025-08-22 22:00:06 +0000 UTC
View Post
Day 5. Monday 3:00am.
The swordsman with the large blade strode towards Jack’s mother, who was hiding amongst the twisted roots of a fallen tree while shielding little Zia with her arms. Her eyes, wide with terror, shifted between the brute and her son.
The man’s seven-foot, rust-encrusted sword was being dragged through the soil with a sound like bone grating on stone. His gaze was fixed on Jack’s mom. “Hand over the ear, and I’ll let the girl live.” ...
2025-08-21 22:00:07 +0000 UTC
View Post
Day 4. Sunday 1:45pm.
Back at home, Jack was happy to no longer have so many blood-soaked items in his room. He cleaned his weapons and the other items he’d recovered from the dead rogue; they required a wipe with a damp cloth.
After scrubbing the dried blood from his dagger, he settled in his room and used the looted whetstone to sharpen the tainted blade. “You’ve already saved my life twice,” he murmured as he ran the blade over the wet whetstone a dozen...
2025-08-20 22:00:06 +0000 UTC
View Post
Day 4. Sunday 1:00pm.
Jack trudged through the city, every muscle protesting from the previous day’s chaos. His bloodied pack was slung over one shoulder. It bulged with the rogue’s spoils—armour, gambeson, cloak, gloves, and the rogue’s own pack—all in urgent need of professional cleaning.
“Ow,” he muttered, hobbling with each step. He paused at the entrance of the nearest reputable washhouse, its weathered stone facade streaked with decades of aeth...
2025-08-18 22:00:05 +0000 UTC
View Post
Day 4. Sunday 9:30am.
Jack picked up his smaller notebook and turned to a fresh page. It was time to record the fight with the rat-faced rogue. A few minutes later, the memory was etched in ink. Every misstep, every hesitation, every lucky stroke. Jack read over it, committing each detail to memory with his Perfect Recall skill, and marked the mistakes he’d made. Not to dwell on them, but to learn and improve.
Next time, he told himself, I’ll do b...
2025-08-15 21:00:06 +0000 UTC
View Post
Day 4. Sunday 6:30am.
While waiting for breakfast, Jack recounted the events of the previous day to his silent father, with his mother interjecting as she prepared the meal.
“Your plan leaves a bad taste,” his father remarked, tapping a finger on the kitchen table. “But I agree with your assessment, Jack. The adventurers could argue they technically did nothing wrong and were defending their kill. The guards won’t act on that information.” He stroked his...
2025-08-13 22:00:08 +0000 UTC
View Post
Day 4. Sunday 6:00am.
Jack didn’t wake until his mother roused him at six in the morning to check his injuries and offer him breakfast. He sat on the edge of the bed, feeling sore. Every muscle felt like it’d been pulled between two angry donkeys. His calves, in particular, felt as though every muscle fibre had been shredded from the sprint through the forest. He groaned as he stretched. “Ow. Everything hurts.”
His mom chuckled as she examined each treated...
2025-08-11 19:00:07 +0000 UTC
View Post
Day 3. Saturday 9:15pm.
“Polly,” his mom called out, “go run your brother a hot bath. We need that filth washed off before we treat his other wounds.”
Polly hesitated for a moment. Perhaps trying to craft a witty remark, Jack guessed. Before she headed to the bathroom. Jack couldn’t help but chuckle as he heard her complaining about being ‘his servant’ and ‘doing all the work and not being paid’.
“Are you able to bathe yourself?” his mo...
2025-08-08 18:00:04 +0000 UTC
View Post
Day 3. Saturday 9:00pm.
Their father returned with a woman in her late twenties who carried a small pack emblazoned with a red cross. Jack recognised her face; he’d seen her around the local area in his past life, though they had never interacted.
The healer regarded Jack, who was still sitting with his top removed. “I assume you’re my patient.” She examined his arrow wound. Glancing at his mother, she added, “Good to see you again, Anna. How’s the bab...
2025-08-06 22:00:04 +0000 UTC
View Post
Day 3. Saturday 8:45pm.
Jack entered the courtyard of his home without a good plan. He had a plan, but it wasn’t a very good one.
He removed the rogue’s shortsword and bow, along with the dead rogue’s pack, and stashed them behind a shed containing gardening tools. His mother had a much-loved patch of well-tended herbs that she used in her cooking. He had to hope his mom didn’t look behind the shed before he moved his loot.
Hesitating as he approache...
2025-08-04 22:00:06 +0000 UTC
View Post
Day 3. Saturday 6:25pm.
Jack winced as he rolled out of the tree hollow. His first task was to remove all the damn bugs that had crawled under his clothes! “I fucking hate bugs!” he complained as he shook his clothes, trying not to agitate his injuries.
After he felt like he was no longer a walking bug hotel, he began collecting the items he planned to take with him back to Lundun. Should I leave most of it here and come back? He placed the rogue’s ...
2025-08-01 22:00:08 +0000 UTC
View Post
Day 3. Saturday 5:45pm.
Over twenty minutes had passed with Jack lying in the hollow beneath the fallen tree’s roots. He was waiting to see if the other adventurers had followed him. His only company was the cooling corpse of the rat-faced rogue and what felt like hundreds of bugs which crept all over him. Damp soil clung to his clothes, and the scent of moss and forest decay filled his nostrils.
Jack’s body ached from the frantic sprint through the forest and...
2025-07-25 21:00:06 +0000 UTC
View Post
Day 3. Saturday 5:30pm.
After hearing the thin rogue and large swordsman discussing stealing his white oak bow, Jack didn’t wait to hear more. He turned on his heels and sprinted towards Lundun as fast as he could, picking up small cuts and scrapes from low-hanging branches.
Fuck! It’s a five-mile run. Fuck! His thoughts were cut short by a noise behind him. He didn’t look back. Instead, he kept running, while small scratches and bruises reminded hi...
2025-07-25 20:00:07 +0000 UTC
View Post
Day 3. Saturday 4:55pm.
As Jack waited for the negative effects of the adrenaline rush to fade, he wrote about his first goblin fight. The action of putting pen to paper calmed his mind, though not quite enough to stop his hands from shaking as he wrote.
Unexpected Encounter With a Goblin
Location: Forest clearing outside Lundun
Duration: Under two minutes
Weapon: White oak bow with quiver of cheap arrows
Goblin emerged from the forest approximatel...
2025-07-25 19:02:00 +0000 UTC
View Post
Day 3. Saturday 4:45pm.
Jack held his bow at mid-draw as his eyes widened at the guttural snarl he’d heard coming from the forest. He prepared for a battle. At that moment, he wanted to grip the dagger’s handle, but couldn’t. He looked to the tree stump, where seven of his arrows stuck out like feathered hedgehog spines. Shit, I only have five arrows.
A dark shape burst from the shadows at the edge of the clearing. It was a goblin, small in stature ...
2025-07-25 19:01:00 +0000 UTC
View Post
Day 3. Saturday 3:00pm.
Jack chose a patch of firm, level ground near the border of the undamaged forest and the ruined practice area. He set down his pack and removed the bow from over his shoulder.
The weapon was made from high-quality white oak and adorned with intricate carvings; the surface was polished to a light sheen with no scratches or imperfections in the bow’s finish. It would look as good as new if it weren’t for the ugly bloodstains.
“Thi...
2025-07-25 19:00:08 +0000 UTC
View Post
Day 3. Saturday 1:00pm.
Jack walked out of the city towards the nearest public forest with a plan to practise archery. Despite having little interest in archery, he was looking forward to some practice. In his past life, he’d spent a few months learning to use a bow to assassinate Greaves from a distance. His damaged right arm made using a bow painful; there had been no joy in learning to wield a bow.
As he strolled with a bounce in his step through a large wild...
2025-07-25 17:00:11 +0000 UTC
View Post
Day 3. Saturday 11:30am.
Jack pointed to the kitchen table. “Take a seat,” he said to the orphan girl he’d brought home. “My mom’s out… I’ll find you some old clothes.” As the girl took a seat, he leaned his new bow and quiver against one of the chairs and wondered where Polly’s old clothes might be stored.
He assumed they’d be in her room. She won’t mind if I take a few old items for a good cause. He started to leave the kitchen but...
2025-07-25 17:00:10 +0000 UTC
View Post
Day 3. Saturday 12:30pm.
As Jack finished a second fireball scroll, his mom returned to the kitchen with the now-clean Zia. He didn’t recognise her without the layer of dirt. The little orphan girl had striking silver hair, long enough to brush the woollen dress his younger sister once wore. Gone were her brown-stained shoes; they’d been replaced by a pair of sandals.
Zia offered a shy smile as she entered the kitchen.
Jack grinned. “You look human… ...
2025-07-25 17:00:10 +0000 UTC
View Post
Day 3. Saturday 11:00am.
While waiting in line for his turn to buy a wrap, Arman spotted him and called out, “Jack, I must be blessed by the Gods, no? Visited two days in a row. Does your mother not feed you, yes?” Arman laughed. Stepping from behind his stall and wiping his hands on his apron, the old man approached Jack, leaving his assistant to tend the stall. “Thank you for sending me an…” he began, pausing to choose his words before leaning in to whisper,...
2025-07-25 07:00:00 +0000 UTC
View Post
Day 3. Saturday 6:00am.
Jack woke with an aching body after a few hours of restless sleep. The combination of being awakened by a nightmare, exercise, and a mattress-free bed left him achy and tender.
“Another day and my mattress will at last be dry,” he complained, his body deflating as he remembered that the cruel nightmares hadn’t ended. “How do I break this curse of bad dreams?” Everyone he cared about was alive and well, and he still had his scr...
2025-07-25 06:59:00 +0000 UTC
View Post
Day 3. Saturday 3:00am.
Jack tried to scream, but he had no voice. He tried to run to his father, but his limbs were locked as though chained by invisible iron… it was cold and biting. Only his eyes could move, wide and straining, as his worst nightmare twisted its claws through what had once been his happy life.
He watched in silent horror as the beastkin guards pinned his father to the ground. Their monstrous forms were a grotesque fusion of man and beast. The...
2025-07-24 10:09:33 +0000 UTC
View Post
Day 2. Friday 7:00pm.
Jack sat at the kitchen table, feeling content and a little sore. He was surrounded by his loving family. His mom had just finished serving their evening meal and had sat down to eat with him, his sister, and their dad. Little Richard’s cradle had been brought into the kitchen; he was asleep.
The tantalising aroma of a freshly cooked chicken filled the space. It was early Friday evening, and his mom tended to cook chicken to celebrate the e...
2025-07-24 10:01:43 +0000 UTC
View Post
Day 2. Friday 1:30pm.
After greeting his mom and grabbing a snack, Jack tiptoed to his sister’s room to return the borrowed valet costume. Holding the uniform in his hands, he frowned. “I’ll need to buy one like this for selling the scrolls,” he whispered, studying the fabric before placing it back. “I can’t keep borrowing it… or can I?” Shaking his head, he headed to his own room.
Settling at his desk, he pulled out the spell scroll price list the...
2025-07-24 09:57:35 +0000 UTC
View Post
Day 2. Friday 11:45am.
Jack ducked into a quiet alley and changed into the valet costume. Tucking away his dagger under his uniform, he patted his stomach. “I really should lose a few pounds,” he grumbled, noting that he’d had to leave his trouser button undone. The waistcoat and jacket concealed the slight gap.
He then stashed everything except the spell scrolls in an extra bag, hiding it in the alley before preparing to exit.
“Damn. My hair.” Jac...
2025-07-24 09:55:47 +0000 UTC
View Post
Day 2. Friday 6:00am.
Jack woke to the sound of cockerels crowing. He groaned as he rolled onto his back. To help him sleep on the hard boards, he’d stuffed his blankets under him as padding. “Ow. My poor back.” Young Jack’s body wasn’t used to sleeping on a hard surface.
At least I didn’t have any nightmares, and this isn’t Tartarus. For the past two decades, he’d suffered from cruel nightmares where his family died at the hands of Baron ...
2025-07-24 09:54:07 +0000 UTC
View Post
Day 1. Thursday, 2:45pm.
As Jack ‘jogged’ through the city, he considered ways to earn gold fast. If everything went like his first life, he’d be working with his father as a Novice Scribe in a couple of weeks.
The pay for a novice wasn’t great, just 25 silvers a week, meaning it would take months to save enough to afford a bow. I need a bow. If only I could tell the Royal Library I’m already an Apprentice Scribe. Apprentice Scribes earned at le...
2025-07-24 09:52:08 +0000 UTC
View Post
Day 1. Thursday, 2:00pm.
Jack hid the dagger under his clothing and entered his home in a good mood. He smiled when he smelled his mom’s cooking. His mother tended to cook more when worried.
“Is everything alright, Jack? You’ve been gone for hours.” His mom said, noticing the dirt on his knees. “What happened? Are you alright? Are you hurt? Do you need a priest or a healer?”
Jack chuckled. “Everything’s fine. I just took a long walk to clear ...
2025-07-24 09:50:58 +0000 UTC
View Post
Day 1. Thursday, 12:50pm.
Jack gave up on gaining access to the blood magic grimoire. I’ll send an anonymous accusation that Greaves is trying to access a blood magic grimoire. He smiled at the idea of the inquisitors arresting the Baron and hanging him. He scratched his chin in thought. Without proof, would the accusations be enough for an inquisitor to investigate?
He wasn’t sure. I can’t rely on luck. I must be certain. This is my fa...
2025-07-24 09:49:44 +0000 UTC
View Post
Day 1. Thursday, 12:25pm.
Jack was perplexed and sat holding the blood-red rose. He contemplated what the old lady had said while appreciating the birdsong above. Her words echoed in his mind. ‘All choices matter…’ ‘The Fates await to guide you…’ .
“What is my fate? Guide me where?” He scoffed at the advice. There is no fate in a dream world. And no guidance can be given to a path that was already concluded. He was just g...
2025-07-24 09:33:42 +0000 UTC
View Post
