When my eyes open, I’m looking at the inside of an all brown interior building. Armor lines the walls, faintly lit by sconces. A waist-high stone counter, covered with some animal’s pelt, stands in front of me. It smells of mildew and oil. Without thinking, I move around the counter and make for the exit. After adjusting to the brightness outside, I take in the bustling village before me. A handful of mud structures line busy mud walkways, people sprinting in every direction. Hold on, not people…

  “Monsters?” I say to myself, mouth agape. Fantasy creatures of all shapes and sizes, some I recognize, some I do not, are the only people in this place. Orcs aplenty, green skinned, tusked and muscular. Some minotaur, buff bull-headed men, along with other half beast people, like werewolves and cat girls. I see cyclops here and there, tall and wide, pink-skinned, with only one eye in the center of their forehead. I swear there’s some small critter running around on two legs, but I can’t be sure. They move too fast to get a good look. I slump to the floor, lightheaded and ready to vomit.

  I feel my body with my hands, working my way up from my overly well-defined abs and pecs, reaching my face and freezing with horror. Tusks. I have tusks, two pointed teeth jutting from my lower lip. “I have tusks.” I remark, noting the slurring speech resulting from said tusks. My tongue idly explores their shape in my mouth, curved and obstructing. It is difficult to enunciate when I can’t fully close my lips.

  “Urul Mulush” I say with perfect clarity. I know that’s my name. Two words created with the shape of my mouth in mind. “Urul Mulush” I repeat. My voice sounds deeper than I remember. It shakes my body; such base and power behind it. A voice meant to roar.

  Player Xxdragonbornxx has initiated a transaction.

  “Huh?” Text appears in the middle of my vision. I notice boots to my right. I look up, following the legs with knee pads made of leather, up the half-armored torso, to the head of the person standing next to me. A shout I can’t restrain escapes my lips as I behold the reptilian face atop its shoulders. The clothed monster stares blankly ahead, not meeting my gaze. It opens its mouth slightly, flicking its tongue.

  Player Xxdragonbornxx has sold you 13 boar skins, 6 boar tusks, and 2 small pebbles. Xxdragonbornxx has received 4 silver and 38 copper. Xxdragonbornxx used Repair All Equipment. Xxdragonbornx has spent 2 silver on this service.

  Text scrolls in front of me, fading as fast as it appears. Though no coin or goods were exchanged, nor a hammer swung, the lizard man jogs away from me, apparently satisfied with our exchange.

  “Hey, wait!” I shout after him. He does not react, continuing on his way down the poorly maintained street. “Damn it” I mutter, getting to my feet. Making my way back around the counter, I bury my head in my hands, sharp tusks painful against my palms. “Would someone please explain what’s going on?”

  What feels like hours pass without another one of those monsters coming near me. I stay behind the counter, hoping that as long as I’m not in the doorway, they won’t see me. Just as I let my guard down a little, a wide figure steps into the entryway. I try to crouch behind the counter, hiding my entire body. Nevertheless, the figure lumbers in, shaking the floor with every step, knocking dust down from the ceiling. I choke on a particularly dense clump in the air as they step up to me.

  Player Buttfungus has initiated a transaction.

  Now I need to know. What kind of creature is named Buttfungus? I slowly get to my feet and look up into the beast’s face with every ounce of courage I can muster. It’s a cyclops. Standing 10 feet tall or more, the one-eyed behemoth stares straight ahead at the wall above and behind me. He breathes evenly, his stretched-to-burst stomach covered sparingly with straps, buckles, and a shield so small it only covers his left breast. Smart enough to protect his heart, I guess.

  Player Buttfungus has sold you 10 boar skins, 8 boar tusks, and a traveler’s cloak. Buttfungus has received 20 silver and 7 copper. Buttfungus used Repair All Equipment. Buttfungus has spent 14 silver on this service.

  “Huh” I say when I finish reading the familiar text. Buttfungus turns and leaves without a word. After another seamless and empty interaction, I get the impression these strange, soulless creatures will not harm me. They don’t really even acknowledge my existence. They just do whatever they came in for, using me like a vending machine with their minds, and depart. Buttfungus didn’t even smell so bad ironically. A little like a gym locker room, but not pungent enough to make me gag. Though if we spoke, I wouldn’t mention it. The huge, bulging muscles on his arms told me his round belly was hiding a thick wall of muscle underneath. Even in this orc body he could probably pound me into paste.

  I wander around my small shop. The fantasy armor hanging on stands or the wall are basic pieces, no fancy decorations or designs etched into them. The heavy plate doesn’t look knight-like at all. Thick rivets hold the metal together in wide bands, darkly colored and unnecessarily heavy looking. I try to take some down, but they seem stuck in place. I can’t even shift them around, as if they are frozen in the air. Nearby leather armor is rough and dark, much like the plate. It is furred in places, hair and tanned skin unevenly sewn together from several hides. The last of my selection is moth-eaten robes, just plain, brown, boring robes. If a wizard wore these, I’d assume they struggled with their magic and finances. No pointy hats to speak of.

  Player Babezilla has initiated a transaction.

  “Welcome to my store!” I announce, I hadn’t noticed her entering; she made it right up to my back before I was notified. I manage not to jump in surprise, just turning to face my new customer. “Let me guess, you have boar parts to sell me?” as I meet her vacant gaze, I realize I’m looking at a member of my own kind. An orc, skin green like a sour apple. She is clothed in sparse furs, barely doing anything to cover her exaggerated chest. Much like my statuesque masculine figure, this “Babezilla” is an idealized version of the female form. Green though she may be, she is unrealistically attractive. Her dainty tusks don’t take away from the effect at all. Though her eyes tell me the lights are on, but nobody is home. I do my best to be respectful.

  Player Babezilla has sold you 2 boar skins, 3 boar tusks, and a Cracked Mace. Babezilla has received 2 silver and 45 copper. Babezilla used Repair All Equipment. Babezilla has spent 1 silver and 17 copper on this service.

  “Come again!” I say cheerily, waving at her back as she leaves. I’ve heard of sexual dimorphism but that’s just ridiculous. She looks like a slight green human, and I look like a green bodybuilder that’s legally made to wear a “Wide Load” sign. Thinking about it, I haven’t actually seen what I look like. I can look down and see my zero percent body fat torso, but I haven’t seen my face. I also didn’t dare to take off my thin cloth pants, the only clothing I was wearing when all of this started. I’m sure it’s green, but… moving on from that line of thinking, I make my way to a buckler on the wall. It’s covered in a layer of dust. I wipe it away, revealing my face in wide streaks.

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  “Handsome” I say to myself, placing a hand on my cheek. Much like my chest, my face is cut in pleasing angles, strong features accented with braided hair and a dark, rugged beard. The only thing that stands out, besides my green skin, are my wide and pointed pig shaped ears. Thankfully they lay flat on the sides of my head, instead of out like a pig. My tusks give me the impression that I should be proud of them, thick points reaching all the way up my cheeks, almost close enough to poke my eyes out. This isn’t my face. My face is… it looks…

  “Why can’t I remember my face?” I shout at the mirror surface. I punch it, a rush of intense rage overtaking me. As I pull my hand away, the buckler is dented concave, only for a moment, before it is returned to its original shape suddenly. The shape does not un-dent, it simply is dented, then it isn’t. I try to think about my face, and my body, but my mind won’t let the thought resolve. I feel like I’m grasping at an idea just out of reach. A sense of wrongness, the uncanny face staring back at me scowling. Son of a bitch.

  When the sun reaches the center of the sky, I decide to explore. Before, the idea of walking shoulder to shoulder with mythical monsters terrified me into staying put. After visually intimidating customers come and go without a hint of malice, I feel brave enough to try. I step out, taking in the air. It smells wet, like a forest bed in fall. The ground beneath my feet squishes between my toes, muddy and thick. The buildings are clearly made of the same mud and poor quality wood, not stone or brick. They all look like they could crumble at any moment. Monster-folk wander in and out of them, their gaits almost identical to every other member of the same species and gender. As if they’d all practiced the same brisk pace, they appear to move at the exact same speed in the exact same way. I walk ten paces down the muddy road before a message blocks the middle of my vision.

  RETURN TO -20.10, -10.8, 0.1 IMMEDIATELY.

  I squint at the text, trying to make sense of the numbers.

  YOU WILL BE RETURNED IN 3…2…1…

  I blink, and I’m back inside my shop, standing in the exact spot I was in when I opened my eyes for the first time. So, I can’t leave my shop, huh? What am I supposed to do, stand here all day waiting for someone to walk in?

  After an excruciatingly long amount of time passes, I surmise that’s exactly what I’m meant to do. Stand here, and only here, forever. An orc, male this time, enters my store and makes his way over.

  Player Leetskillz has initiated a transaction.

  “Hey bud, anybody in there?” I wave a hand in front of the male orc’s face. “Helloooo?” I drag out the word for a few extra seconds before shutting my mouth. As shut as I can manage with the tusks, anyways.

  Player Leetskillz has sold you 34 boar skins, 17 boar tusks, and a Claymore. Leetskillz has received 12 silver and 65 copper. Leetskillz used Repair All Equipment. Leetskillz has spent 2 silver and 73 copper on this service.

  “Overachiever, huh?” I ask him, resting my head on one hand, drumming the counter with the other. He does not respond of course, turning to leave without a word. “Hey!” I yell at him, suddenly following behind him. “Stop ignoring me!” I reach for his arm, but find myself unable to grasp it.

  You cannot attack this target.

  “Attack? I just wanted to talk, that’s all.” I hold my hand up innocently as the message fades from the center of my vision. So, I can't touch them, just like I can’t move the armor. I grumble aloud, looking down at my pants. “You can’t tell me what I can’t do!” I yell at nobody, gripping my pants and pulling as if they’re tear-away. The handfuls move, but do not tear, despite my immense strength. I move my thumbs under the waistband and push with everything I’ve got, but they don’t budge. “How do I shit!” I howl out into the street. At that moment, it dawns on me. I haven’t felt the need for a bowel movement all day. That’s unusual for me... I haven’t even needed to pee. Did I eat?

  My brow furrows as I try to remember. No, of course I didn’t eat, I haven’t been able to leave my shop. There’s no food in here, only armor and my counter. I get down on my knees and chomp down on the hide placed on the counter. I assume it will be chewy leather, like trying to eat a boot. I’m disappointed to find it's not like that at all. It’s like biting down on a hard plastic cube with no give. I slump over, my forehead resting on the side of the counter.

  Player Bookwyrm has initiated a transaction.

  “Go away” I say weakly. I notice this monster isn’t wearing boots, showing off his massive, scaled feet peeking out from under his simple robe. “I said go away you freak!” I round on him, standing up to my full height and throwing a punch simultaneously.

  You can’t attack that target.

  “Rah!” I scream in his face, spit flying everywhere but not making contact with his scales. I look into his slit-pupil eyes. “You’re wearing glasses” I note. “Fucking nerd.” I look around him to see the sun has risen outside. Did I mope against my counter all night? I really need to find something to pass the time. “How many boar tusks did you get? Why do none of you have an even boar-hide-to-tusks ratio? Are you guys just shitty at butchering or something?” I pester the uninterested lizardman. “Let me guess, along with a fist full of boar bits, you also have a weapon or piece of armor in crap condition?”

  Player Bookwyrm has sold you 3 boar skins, 3 boar tusks, and a Rusted Shortsword. Bookwyrm has received 2 silver and 55 copper. Bookwyrm used Repair All Equipment. Bookwyrm has spent 5 silver on this service.

  “Ha!” I shout in his face. “I knew it! All of you weirdos are the same! Is there a boar genocide going on I don’t know about? How haven’t you wiped them out completely? Answer me you cold-blooded asshole!” I put my hand out to shove his shoulder, but my hand is stopped by an invisible barrier.

  You can’t attack that target.

  “Whatever!” I throw up my hands and walk away. I slam my head on the counter, impacting a similar barrier around it as the monsters. I’m disappointed that it doesn’t hurt. Orc after cyclops after beast man enter my shop, stare vacantly at nothing, and leave. Eventually I work out that one boar skin is worth ten copper, boar tusks fifty copper, and most odd equipment is worth seventy five copper. I make a game of trying to guess what each of them are about to sell me, and how much they’ll spend on repairs. A pattern emerges, the more things they turn in usually results in a high repair bill, which makes sense. Fighting boars is probably hell on their modest equipment. Some of them turn in very little but spend a great deal on repairs, telling me maybe this isn’t a good line of work for them.

  Days pass like this. I barely even try to leave. I check different directions out of my shop, but whenever I reach a few steps away from the building, I am instantly transported back behind my counter. The few moments I spend outside are unnerving, it occurs to me that in the heart of this bustling city, no one makes a sound. I hear the squelching of their boots and hooves in the mud, but none of them talk. They don’t even breathe audibly, just making the motions of taking air in and blowing it back out. They probably don’t eat, drink or use the bathroom, just like me. The second night falls I lay down on the hard, dirty floor of my shop and shut my eyes. My mind stops racing, and my breathing levels out, but I still can’t sleep. I lay there until another customer enters and surprises me. The sun comes up on a new day of one-sided conversations and hypothetical shopping.