Reincarnated in Quality Assurance

Marke sat in the tree all night without sleep. The fast moon zipped through the sky at least once in that time, but the slow moon didn’t seem to move at all. When the sky lightened with approaching dawn, Marke climbed down and got his berry shirt-bag. He ate the rest of his berries and put his very sticky shirt back on. He climbed back up and relieved himself while standing on a branch just for kicks and giggles. Then he climbed down to the ground and had a drink a little upstream from the pee tree.

“Plan for today: assign stat point; assign trait; assign skill.” Three boxes popped up in response to his words and he waved them away impatiently. “Then, walk downhill until noon. If I can’t find shelter or food, nap anyway. Aaaaand break!” Marke mimed putting his hand out as though surrounded by teammates, then throwing that hand up above his head. “Assign stat point.”

Strength: 2 (+)

Agility: 1 (+)

Endurance: 2 (+)

Intelligence: 1 (+)

Soul: 1 (+)

Marke tapped the plus on Agility. “Assign trait.” He selected “Second Soul” in the hopes that it was some sort of life saving mechanism. As the trait list disappeared, Marke felt lightning strike his brain and he blacked out.

Marke drifted in a sea of shadow. The surface of the sea of shadow was covered with an oil slick of light. Marke himself was split down the middle: half light, half dark. The interface between light and dark burned Marke’s skin and he scratched at it without thinking. The burning grew worse and Marke began to thrash around in the shadow and light. Both hands scratched furiously at the line down his middle. Desperate to stop the burning, he gripped the skin on either side of the line and pulled. Marke tore himself in two.

Marke opened his eyes to see wooden slats. The slats were attempting to smash his face and break his nose. Marke rolled over onto his back and wondered if his nose had already broken. A cage cut the sky into pieces. The slats moved their attack to the back of his head. Marke groaned and tried to sit up. A voice yelled at him. Marke couldn’t understand a work of it. He leaned over and threw up. The voice yelled louder. Marke leaned against the side of the cage and tried to find the owner of the voice. He thought that he was perhaps in a cart and the driver of the cart might be yelling, but before he could be sure, the sun went dark and the air chilled. Marke spotted the eclipse over the shoulder of the maybe-driver.

Level + 1

New traits available

New skills available

Stat points available

“Put the stat point in endurance.” Marke whispered to himself. “It will help you feel better.” Marke hopped that was true. “ass… stat. pnt” He slurred the words badly but the box popped up anyway. He lifted a wobbly arm and pushed the plus that he hoped was next to Endurance. He passed out again.

Marke opened his eyes and saw the cage again. This time, he understood that he was inside the cage, and the cage was moving. A person was driving the cart and some kind of animal pulled the cart. The sun was setting, but Marke could see clearly that they were driving on a paved road through something like a town. Short stone buildings lined the road and people were busy doing end of day activities, presumably. The cart stopped in front of an above average size building and the driver hopped down and entered the building. Some of the people looked at him, in the cage, but most people ignored him. That seems a bit odd. Are caged people so common here? Marke was happy to recognize a coherent thought in his own head.

The driver returned with someone who was wearing fancier clothes. Marke belatedly realized that he was the only person in sight who was dressed in brown. The town people wore mostly blues and the fancy person had patches of red and white. The fancy person spoke.

“He looks half dead, Juma. How badly did you beat him before he surrendered?” The fancy voice was clearly copied directly from a world war one British officer.

“Unconscious already. I carry to cart. Only yell at. Captain Seshi, Captain Seshi” The driver’s voice was drastically different from the fancy captain’s voice. It sounded like a rabid muppet. The driver made two quick bows as he repeated the captain’s name.

“Boy, how much health do you have?” This question was clearly directed at Marke as the captain spoke slowly and loudly. Marke blinked dumbly at the captain before replying. “I don’t know.”

The captain’s brows furrowed deeply. “Where are you from?”

Marke could only repeat. “I don’t know.” He tried to explain further. “I woke up in a cave three days ago. I think it was three days.”

“By your speech you are an officer.” The captain narrowed his eyes. “Or a prince.”

The captain turned and called towards the building. Two probably-soldiers came out. The captain pointed to Marke. “This is a captured enemy officer. Search him and lock him in one of the upper cells. Send the medic once he is locked up.” The captain led the driver back into the building as the two soldiers fumbled with the lock on Marke’s cage. Eventually one of them broke the lock with a short sword and opened the door. Marke shuffled over to the door and offered no resistance as they pulled him out and set him on his feet. They marched him quickly around the back of the building and up a guarded staircase. The whole setup reminded Marke of cheap motels, the rooms even had bars on the windows.

The soldiers ordered Marke to strip. They splashed a bucket of water over him and gave him a prisoner’s uniform. The uniform looked exactly like the clothes they had just confiscated, only slightly cleaner and with no shoes. Marke lay down on a cot and fell asleep. He woke to a warm feeling infusing his body.

“You are in rough shape my friend. Do not move, I will leave you to sleep in just a moment.” The voice sounded like Tevye from the 1971 classic musical, “Fiddler on the Roof”. Why is that memory so specific? Marke wondered. The owner of the voice left a minute later and Marke was alone in the dark room.

“Hello Marke.”