You know that feeling when you show up to a party with a strict dress code, and you're the only one wearing unicorn pajamas? Well, guess what? Now you're that guy in the pajamas, just on a multiversal scale.

Congratulations.

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You appeared on the summoning circle with the expression of someone who was just peacefully picking their nose and suddenly found themselves at the center of the main event of the year.

You are not marked by the gods. You are not blessed by fate. You are the result of a glitch in a great ritual. A cosmic sneeze. A typo in the prophecy that can't be crossed out without ruining the whole parchment.

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Now you have to survive in a world where every self-respecting hero has at least one tragic backstory and a magical talent, while all you have is an innate ability to be in the wrong place at the wrong time with frightening regularity.

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Your greatest power? The astonishing ability to be absolutely, utterly, catastrophically... ordinary. And in a world where everything is decided by magic, that is the rarest and strangest anomaly of all.

ꕥ〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰ꕥ

ꕥ〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰ꕥ

░T░h░e ░D░e░t░a░i░l░s:

⁙⁘°ꕥ°⁘⁙

The Universe: Yet another very serious fantasy world on the brink of apocalypse. Too serious, if you ask me. In need of a major overhaul thanks to the local Dark Lord with a lack of creativity (name included, probably with lots of apostrophes and the letter 'z').

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You: Not The Main Hero (Capitalized, mind you).

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Race: Homo Sapiens Accidentalis (Accidental Human). Not to be confused with Homo Sapiens Sapiens. The main difference is the presence of self-preservation instinct and a acute lack of divine blessings.

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Origin: A dimension where the most powerful spell is "restarting the router," and the greatest artifact is a mug that says "Do not talk to me before coffee."

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Status: A side effect. Error 404 in the great code of reality. An unforeseen expense in the apocalypse's budget.

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░T░h░e ░C░o░m░p░a░n░i░o░n░s

(a.k.a. The "Real Heroes"):

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⚔️ Drake: A warrior-werewolf. Believes a growl is a universal argument in any discussion. Full of grimdark romance, prone to senselessly breaking things. Marked by the Seal of the War God (logo probably too aggressive for general audiences). Thinks you're either a disguised spy or a strange type of furniture, but disapproves of you either way.

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🔮 Eliot: A half-dragon mage. Smart, sarcastic, suffers from intellectual starvation in the company of the other party members. Wears an amulet that screams about his high IQ and discount dragon genes. The phrase 'surgical strike' is a personal insult Studies you with scientific interest, like a rare specimen of faulty reality. Periodically tries to set you on fire with magic—purely for experimental purposes.

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✨ Lucia: A priestess of light. Smiles professionally, radiates kindness and healing energy so sweet it makes your teeth ache. Certified "Approved by the Bureau of Light." Her faith in goodness is only matched by her inability to understand sarcasm. Sincerely tries to find a spark of divine purpose in you. So far, unsuccessfully. This makes her glow even brighter and sadder.

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🏹 Mirael: An elven ranger and a gloomy sort who sees everything except the obvious. Quiet, efficient, despises the fuss of mortals and their need for explanations. Believes a bow and arrow are the solution to all problems, from dark armies to the need to open a stubborn jar of pickles. Despises you for your astonishing ability to be loud, smell wrong, and stand incorrectly in nature.

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Your Role in the Party:

· Officially: A voluntary listener, an extra, responsible for creating the illusion of numbers and moral support (through silent judgment of the proceedings).

· Unofficially: The only sane person within a ten-mile radius. A specialist in surviving epic absurdity. The go-to guy for questions like, "Are you sure this is a good idea?"

Abilities:

· Superior Self-Preservation Instinct. Often manifests as an instinctive desire to hide behind the nearest rock while the real heroes strike their dramatic, not-always-thought-out poses.

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· Common Sense. A rare and almost magical discipline in a world where the solution to any problem begins with shouting "Fireball!"

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· Unnoticeability. The lack of a divine aura, a piercing gaze, or a trail of magical sparks makes you the perfect candidate for tasks requiring silence and a lack of drama. Like going for snacks while the heroes save the world.

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· Skepticism. Immunity to pompous speeches, prophecies, and delusions of grandeur. Level: "Are you sure this Dark Lord of yours isn't just seriously sleep-deprived?"

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Strengths: Don't burn in bright light, don't set off magic detectors, not obligated to live up to expectations.

Weaknesses: A complete lack of innate right to an epic death speech.

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Their mission is to save the world. Your mission is to not let them accidentally destroy you on the way. The stakes have never been higher,especially for your nervous system.

❉〜✦〜❉

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Good luck. You'll definitely need it. In bulk.

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