KaveDerry

--WSA 2025 ENTRY--

Sam wasn’t a hero. He was barely even a functional adult.

Just a normal guy dropped into a fantasy world without his consent, Sam had one rule: Don’t be a hero. Unfortunately, when you’ve been “chosen by prophecy” and destiny clings to you like a bad smell, that’s easier said than done.

Summoned to a world that is under siege by a mysterious force known only as the Void, Sam is immediately informed by a cryptic woman that he’s the savior foretold in legend. He wants no part of it. All he wants is to get back home. But fate isn’t taking no for an answer.

Every time Sam tries to walk away, he ends up deeper in trouble — with crazed cultists, pirate queens, sea beasts, corrupted dukes, bureaucratic tribal councils, and at least three gods who shouldn’t be allowed to manage anything more complex than a spoon.

Sure, he was granted powerful magic during the summoning. Unfortunately, it never seems to work when or how he actually needs it.

Armed with accidental magic, weaponized sarcasm, and a complete lack of long-term planning, Sam stumbles through one disaster after another — slowly collecting an increasingly chaotic crew that includes:
– A thief who sees every dilemma as an opportunity to get extra coin,
– A cultist who just wants to open a bakery,
– And a brooding adventurer still emotionally wrecked from his last breakup.
(Oh, and a living plant. Don’t ask.)

Sam’s only goal is to get home. But surviving in a world unraveling at the seams means more than just running away. It means bluffing your way through magical trials, navigating tangled politics, and occasionally wrestling a skeleton.

If he’s lucky, he might just stop the Void from devouring reality. If not? Well, he’ll at least make fun of it until the very end.

Accidental Heroics: A Guide to Surviving Fantasy Land

The chaos escalated quicker than a forest fire.

The bandits didn't bother with any introductions or demands; apparently, common decency was dead. They just exploded out of the tree line like someone had shouted, "Soup's on!" and pointed directly at us. A few of them screamed bloody murder. One, in particular, howled something incoherent but tripped on a tree root and faceplanted. Honestly, it ruined the dramatic effect.

Arrows flew overhead, haphazardly, like the bandits had all failed archery school but passed chaos theory. One thunked into the side of the nearest wagon. Another clipped a knight's shoulder, who barely flinched, cursed, and then drew his blade with a sigh like this was a regular Tuesday.

Horses reared, people screamed, and I, in a display of elite survival skills, rolled behind a cart and stayed there for a few solid minutes. I was completely content watching the carnage from afar.

Arrows, Idiots, and Accidental Heroes