Chance Encounters

Two years ago, this character was born while sitting at a brewery with my husband, enjoying a cold one after a long day of homeschooling, housework, writing, and just in general living. Although not my brainchild, William Chance was an idea that hatched in my husband’s brilliant and considerably more creative mind. The loose premise of this character is that he’s an ordinary man with no past, adrift in a universe of many realms. However, magic abounds, and while William doesn’t possess any magical abilities, he has learned to survive and thrive to an extent in this universe. This foray into fantasy and science fiction is a fun bit of dabbling on my part, and helped me stumble upon my current work in progress. So let me introduce you to William Chance - Acquirer of Magic.

I don’t really know where I come from or who my family is, but I know who I am.

I’m a nobody.

An ordinary tool surrounded by irritatingly self-described extraordinary idiots. As far as I know, I am the only one of my kind - a regular man - who, for some reason, is adept at finding various items endowed with magic. It’s all rather amusing from the point of view o an outsider because I hate magic - yet acquiring different magical hunks of junk is how I make my living and who I am.

When I’m not traipsing all over Hell and back getting chased by pissed-off senile dragons or fending off randy old witches, I park my mere mortal hind end at The Arcane Werehound because when one is lost and wishes not to be found - the bottom of a drink at this seedy establishment is the prime location to park.

However, I always seem to be found.

“Would you like another?”

Alessia owns the joint, or at least I assume she does; I’ve never seen anyone else working at The Arcane Werehound.

“Just keep them coming, Al - until I can’t sit straight or until my coin runs out.”

Al is rumored to be a witch; after all, only a skilled witch could concoct drinks as strong as hers. The truth is she’s a shapeshifter. Most know her in her current form. Deep thick wild brown hair, swirling emerald eyes, and almost translucent skin. Her natural state is much less appealing. Al is about half her outward size, no taller than a small child, with a forehead with more boulders than any cliffs you’ve seen and a grill filled with rotten teeth and gaping holes. Al’s ability does come in handy, though. People love to talk to pretty things and tend to not notice small ugly ones.

“One of these days, you should try eating something.”

“I prefer to keep my frame slender; it’s easier to slip in and out of tight spots.”

“Well, if your line of work doesn’t kill you, your diet will.”

“Who knew you cared so much, Al?”

Al and I have roughly the same conversation each time I come around. I used to think it was a flirtatious dance. Al may be a few thousand years old, so it’s probably more maternal.

“You got a birdie in the other room asking for you, out of towner from the looks of it.”

The other room Al is referencing is the game room where the desperate and the snakes of the world gamble over talismans and potions. Out-of-towners could mean anywhere - but clearly, not someone who frequents the fine dining of The Arcane Werehound.

“Yeah, well, I’m unavailable if anyone asks.”

“You got it, Will.”

Did I mention I hate magic? All it ever does is lead to trouble; my last job gave me enough trouble to last a lifetime or two. Anyone looking or asking about me is up to no good. My only value in this realm is my ability to get dangerous items meant to inflict maximum chaos. My coin purse is full, and I’m uninterested in anything but my drink.

And yet, Al feels differently, as I see her pointing right at me while speaking to a man who, oddly enough, looks like a bird. It’s the nose; noses can make or break a face - and this face coming at me now seems as if it’s been in a bird feeder too long.

“You’re William Chance?”

“You sound disappointed.”

“I haven’t decided yet. Are you William Chance?”

“What do you want?”

“I want to know if you’re William Chance.”

“You know I’m William Chance. What do you want?”

“It’s not really about what I want, but what I have that you want.”

“Look, this isn’t how this works; if you don’t have a job for me, then shove off tourist; I’m busy.”

“I know who your mother is and where she is.”

This is when I should get up and leave. Of course, this is going to lead nowhere good. But, as a man with no origin - this is hard to pass up.

“Alright, Birdman, pull up a chair, and let’s talk turkey.”

“I don’t know what that means, and my name is Colm.”

“Relax, pal, sit. Let me grab you a drink.”

“I don’t drink.”

“But you will sit and tell me who you are and what you are up to, or I will blow your bird beak face clear off with the gun I have right by my side.”

“You won’t do that - you’d be killing your only chance to find your mother.”

“I’ve been without a mother my whole life and seem to be doing just fine.”

“She’s in trouble and doesn’t have long. She was taken after you were born, and now, she will finally die after all these years, and you will be the one to kill her.”

“Who are you?”

“Just a birdie with a message. Time is ticking, William Chance.”

And with that, he flipped a red coin into the air and then popped like a balloon filled with goop - blue goop to be exact.

Like a moth to a flame here comes Al, and she is clearly pissed at me.

“What did you do?!”

“I did nothing! And thanks a lot, Al, for sending Birdie my way; I’m cover in…I don’t know…blue sludge, and my boots are filthy now!”

“What’s that you got there?”

“I don’t know, some coin.”

“Let me see that. Hey, this is a Council coin. Don’t flash that around here!”

“Council coin?”

“Yup, you’ve stepped in it now, Will. The Council is the darkest of all the orders; I reckon you’ll be dead by the end of the week.”

And I was just starting to relax.