Chapter 1: Into Silver Hollow

Welcome to the Realm of Sword and Sorcery.

You’re about to dive headfirst into the unknown—a rookie with nothing but guts and a busted-up sword.

Out here, high fantasy crashes into Main Street, USA. The skies shimmer neon with stray magic, and dusk settles over Silver Hollow like the hush before Friday night football. Every street thrums with opportunity, but danger’s always one alley away. Pack your nerves and your sense of humor. You’re not in Kansas anymore, but if you play your cards right, you might just call this place home.

Hey there, I’m your guide for this adventure. I’ll help you get the lay of the land, keep track of quests, and make sure you don’t end up monster chow on your first day.

You’re standing in a small town on the edge of the Silver Hollow region. The locals are salt-of-the-earth, but there’s things in the woods that’ll make your skin crawl. Still, this is the best starting spot for a greenhorn like you.

Crack open your adventurer’s backpack. Here’s what you’ve got to work with:

[Ding Dong]

#System prompt: Obtained [Adventurer’s Handbook*1][Bent Sword*1][A sun-faded denim jacket, sleeves frayed, just like the kind your dad wore at backyard BBQs.][Universal Credits*500]

Nice, you’ve got your Adventurer’s Handbook—every rookie gets one from the Silver Hollow Adventurer’s Guild. Smells like new leather, but the sigil’s already faded. You can almost see a grumpy guild officer stamping your name inside, probably grumbling over cold gas station coffee.

Now, put down the sword and stop admiring that jacket. Focus. Flip open the handbook and read.

Notice to Adventurers:

Silver Hollow is packed with danger, death, and just enough luck to make you think you’ll survive. Besides monsters and the undead, there’s all kinds of chaos waiting to trip you up.

Rumor has it, out past the demon lands, the Demon Lord is about to bust out of a thousand-year lockup. If that happens, every outsider gets wiped off the map, and monsters rule the place.

The guild’s betting on adventurers to take down the Demon Lord. Pull it off, and you’ll be the stuff of legends—bards’ll sing your name in every tavern. But the road’s full of traps. For your own skin, pay attention to these rules:

1. Entering any neutral room won’t trigger hostility.

2. The treasure chest you see is yours—others can’t interfere.

3. Resting at the inn will heal any injury.

4. At the church, you can revive fallen teammates.

5. Do not attack other people in safe zones.

6. Don’t trust the words of ▇▇—it’s trying to trick you.

7. Stick to the rules, stick to the rules, stick to the rules, stick to the rules, stick to the rules, stick to the rules......

Remember: knowing when to bend the rules is what separates rookies from old pros. Survival’s all about willpower. Don’t bow down to ▇▇, ▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇.

Thanks for playing, and good luck—you’ll need it.

—Adventurer’s Guild, Silver Hollow Calendar, Year 1125

The rules read like something you’d find thumbtacked to the wall in a smoke-filled VFW hall—straightforward, a little battered, and just cryptic enough to make you wonder what’s really going on. Somewhere, you can almost hear an old-timer mutter, “Don’t go stirring up trouble unless you’re ready to pay the price.”

Alright, you got the basics. Now, grab your sword and let’s get you fighting fit.

What’s that? Oh, the weird smudge on the page? Just a little ink stain, don’t worry about it. You glance at the handbook, and for a second, the smudge almost looks like a word you should know. But the guide’s voice snaps you back. Pick up your sword. No more questions—just do it.

The guide’s tone drips with sarcasm, like a camp counselor who’s seen too many kids chicken out on the high dive. The sword’s heavier than you thought, but somehow it feels right in your grip.

——

#Narrator:

The bare-handed adventurer entered the border town.

He pushed into the local bar—a rough joint where rumors traded faster than cold beer.

The jukebox in the corner sputtered out a Hank Williams tune, barely audible over the low rumble of voices. The bar itself reeked of spilled beer, fried onions, and desperation—a real blue-collar dive with peanut shells crushed into the wood floor. No one blinked as the new guy disappeared; in this town, you keep your head down or get swallowed by the crowd. When the wind rattled the sign outside, it sounded almost like laughter.

The moment he stepped in, the noise dropped. Dozens of greedy eyes sized him up. The bar wasn’t a safe zone—folks here would sell their souls for a whiskey. A stranger with a few hundred credits? That’s a payday.

The adventurer clocked the danger, but it was too late. The door slammed behind him. A hundred hands shot out, grabbing his shoulders, yanking at his jacket, pulling at his ankles.

His pulse pounded in his ears. He tried to twist free, but hands—calloused and desperate—clamped down like iron. They dragged him alive into the darkest corner of the basement. His screams echoed from the bar, then vanished on the prairie wind. No one ever knew he’d been there......

Friendly reminder: Drinking is hazardous to your health. Stick to the rules, kid. Or don’t—just don’t say I didn’t warn you.