Severe pain in the head and darkness. Artem tried to understand what happened to him, but the reality swam away, as if chuckling at him. Even to collect thoughts did not work - they, reptiles, ran and jumped like mad in the head. Strongly muddied. His head and arms were wet and sticky in something, and his ears were so buzzing that all the sounds around him were oddly intertwined in a strange echo from the working transformer. An attempt to call Jean was not crowned with success-only a kind of choked wheeze flew from his throat, and even that was very quiet. Lying on the floor and plenty of old dust, Artem realized that there was nowhere to wait for help, and slowly crawled to the place from which he was drawn by a weak breeze. The darkness was pitch-black, so much so that sometimes thoughts of loss of sight came to my mind. The body completely disobeyed and was greatly numb, because of this in the hall he crawled for about an hour, from time to time losing consciousness and bumping into tables and columns. Then a lot of time left for the overcoming of the spiral staircase. Having got out upstairs, exhausted and tired our poor fellow finally disconnected. However, he was lucky that he got out into the fresh air, so the loss of consciousness slowly went into a healthy sleep. The morning awakening brought freshness and bodily vigor. Opening his eyes and stretching, he twisted - his head shot from every movement, again began to vomit. Apparently, a concussion occurred to him, but he could not understand what he could do about it. And where did Jean go? Did this hero leave him alone to lie in the dust? It's not like him. Slowly rising and with half-closed, sleepy eyes, he went out into the opening of the house he had unearthed. He looked in front of him and froze. A couple of times blinked and, opening his eyes wide, fell on the ass with a surprised expression on his face. How could it be otherwise? Around, instead of a pit with a shed was a forest, and the house was not in a large hole, but level with the ground. Miracles! Was he so magically caressed on the head that he became so exotic raving? At that moment, his head shot back with pain, and Artem, reflexively, grabbed her hand. Instead of a small, neat "hedgehog" were long hair laid in a hairdress - the usual plague, dirty. Sharply yanking his hand away from his head, he examined it. The state of general surprise intensified with each new fact - and now his gaze wandered over the hand of a teenager who, for some reason, was all smeared with blood. Hastily examining himself, Artem issued a plaintive howl, more like the whining of a battered dog - after all, he even had no hair between his legs. And instead of a well and harmoniously pumped body was the body of an ordinary teenager. Not very flimsy, of course, but a teenager. Charming, just charming!
Yeah, business. Not every day and not every character is in a similar situation. Well, what should I do? Lie down and die? It is necessary to understand. So, we have a situation connected with changing the perception of the surrounding reality. That is, our hero suddenly began to feel that the whole world around him changed. This can be the result of three incidents. First, he can sleep and see a remarkably realistic dream, in which he fully realizes himself. Secondly, his brain functions related to the processing of information received by the receptors were violated, in other words, the surrounding reality remained the same, just a defect in perception. Or, as a version of this version - just some sudden mental illness. Thirdly, it really turned out to be in some other spatio-temporal continuum, and its material realization, that is, the body, differs from the original version. What is the conclusion of all this? Surprisingly, the conclusion is the same and universal in the current situation. That is, in order to feel comfortable and organic, he must act as if everything that surrounds him is real. To do this, it is necessary to establish the most harmonious and natural interaction with the surrounding reality, that is, to live a natural and harmonious life. The question of the method of return arises, and, alas, is immediately excluded, because the memory of our hero does not possess information about the conditions and the "point of entry" into the current state, which speaks either of a "one-way ticket" or some factors that personally do not depend on it. Such factors can be anything - from a parade of planets in some stellar system, something there focused on a specific point of space, and the excessive concentration of a unique mixture of gases before the devil does not joke, divine intervention. He, of course, does not believe in the gods, but the fact of their existence, still does not exclude. So, sat our hero, puffed, touched an itchy temechko with a very solid wound and, beautifully telling the wind about all close and distant relatives of some grandmother for all the good things, began to look around. Literally ten steps from the crypt, they found a silk belt, and scraps of some dress. A small stash was sewn in the belt, only seven denarii and a dozen obolov. The grass was badly crushed and dirty in the blood - obvious traces of the struggle. He carefully studied his findings and again went into a stupor. The fabric was quite rough, and coupled with the storage method and type of coins, spoke of a low technological level. What a wonderful start! He still did not have enough to be in the Middle Ages. About the guys from the reconstruction clubs, all the options swept the blood, because it was a lot and it was fresh - so much blood could be lost, only with a good wound. It is possible that the person who bleeds died. In general, everything is somehow strange and suspiciously obtained. Well, all right, conclusions early. The sun had already risen above the treetops, and Artem decided to return to the crypt to examine it. Even during the excavation, he discovered a system of old copper mirrors to illuminate the room, and he decided to use them. He went downstairs, leisurely, walked around the hall, examining the corpses of long-dead people for profit. Strange as it may seem, the goal that led him to this crypt until he lost consciousness, not only did not go anywhere, but also intensified. Looting, though ignoble occupation, but he did not have options - he needs at least some property. As the fact that he is waiting for him ahead, he did not even imagine, therefore he considered it important to take out all the useful things from the current situation (and the crypt). Little help? For survival, all means are good. There was a lot of armor and weapons in the hall, but almost all of them were either not in size or substandard, mostly, of course, the last one. Rummaging through the bodies, he was able to discover only one thing that delighted him - it was a small crossbow, a very simple dressing, with glued bow and primitive descent. The body of the owner of this sensible unit was quite fresh and still unsweetenedly stank, which indicated a good chance of its functioning, albeit suffering from long-term storage. The most unpleasant thing was to remove the belt from the corpse with a hook. What did you want? Not everyone can restrain vomiting, gently embracing a fragrant stinking corpse. Our gatherer of ownerless property roamed the crypt for an hour and a half and chose a crossbow with a belt, a dozen bolts and a simple knife with a hard, narrow blade in neat sheath, in fact a dagger. By clothing, of course, it did not work out - either decayed, or badly in size, or strongly smelled of decay and decay so that a man in such clothes could easily accept a rebel dead man.