《The Fringe Realms》 Chapter One Drudge Level 1 Health: 1 Intelligence: 1 All stats leached by Corporate Disease inflicted by the Faceless. And they''re heading towards zero. I wipe away condensation, then rest my head on the bus window. The cool on my skin takes away the heat from the bodies crammed into the vehicle. We crawl along the city streets, the start/stop movement lulling me away from my life as the bus takes me away from another mind-numbing work day. Financial woes and lack of marketable skill recently pushed me into a second shift job: an office maintenance technician in the highest, most central skyscraper in the city. Impressive, huh? No. I clean. Bathrooms; the endless carpet stretching along corridors lined by metal doors; the Faceless''s offices. I dust the plants as fake as the smiles from the people who work here. Fifty floors of corporate organisations I''ve never heard of, including industries I can''t figure out either: Hedge Funds sounds like gardening loans to me. Every level in the building, every rented floor, looks the same inside and out. Branding adorning the walls sets the companies apart, but to me they''re all the Faceless. Clones dressed in suits. Losing hours to my game world keeps me sane in the less appealing real world. Gold flows readily into my skilful character''s pockets, and the day ends with a sense of progression and accomplishment. This level 50 Champion in mythic gear can smack the hell out of any mob who so much as looks at me the wrong way. Taking daily frustrations out in a fantasy world beats criminal charges for ramming my mop up the nether regions of the suited Faceless, who push past me, the untouchable Drudge in their way. Working later shifts, I pass the time studying theory crafting sites, as I juggle my phone in one hand and vacuum cleaner in the other. I grind through life for meagre rewards, where levelling up won''t happen anytime soon. The fact life isn''t a demo version hit me recently, when my longterm partner hightailed it from my life with some chick he met online. He took the essentials with him - our TV, fridge, sofa. If I hadn''t been in the bed with my laptop I bet he would''ve taken them too. Everything ninja''d by the asshole and his pug-faced girlfriend and I''m back in life''s starting area. Life sucks. The bus lurches to a halt, and the population swells, new passengers adding extra to the mingling body odour and perfumes. I switch off my surroundings and turn on my phone. Scrolling through the game app with my thumb, I click onto the Trading House to check my commodity sales. Ironic that I corner the game economy''s ore market, when in reality I clean a mining company''s urinals for pittance. My phone dings and I swap my business machinations for my messages. Aidan. Guild mate. The Assassin with a big heart who insists on interfering with my moping. Because if I had, he''d arrange a different night to attempt liberating me from the shitty, one room apartment I now reside in. I grit my teeth. Aidan waited and obligation takes over, even if he did just call me woman. I stare at the screen and, after a few seconds with no response, switch the phone back to my Trading app. The bus halts again, and the woman next to me stands. She''s replaced by a guy in a suit who squeezes onto over half the narrow seat. I squish myself further against the bus''s side in an attempt to prevent his leg touching mine, and focus on my market domination. "You play the Game?" asks a voice in a cultured British accent. Nobody speaks on the bus. Ever. Occasionally someone hits on my skinny, diminutive self, but with hands ''accidentally'' touching my ass, and not words. I shuffle said ass further away as I check him out. Middle aged. Greying hair. Sees himself as a silver fox and hits on girls half his age? I eye his gut spilling over the belt and straining against his white shirt buttons. The intense look in his moss green eyes creeps me out as he seizes me up. "Yeah." I focus back on the listings. Somebody''s bloody undercutting me. "Interesting. What class do you play?" I blink back up at him. "Champion." "I think the game needs something different. The latest expansion disappointed a lot of fans." He smiles, eyes crinkling further at the corners Call me fickle, but had this been a hot guy around my age chances are I''d join in with this conversation with more enthusiasm. "People will always cry about the good old days." I can''t hide my contempt for the whiners. "Because obviously they loved waiting for bugs to be fixed, and the insane login times. Gameplay was more challenging though."Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. "You think the Game''s too easy?" "I played for years and everything changes in each expansion. The game needs to otherwise challenge and achievements won''t exist anymore. I agree with people who say this expansion''s end game progression sucks though." He straightens. "Why''s that? What do you think could be improved?" "You work for the game or something?" The bus lurches to a stop and the man grabs the nearby metal pole, hauling himself from the seat. "My stop. Nice to meet you, Eleanor Walker." Creeper Dude just levelled up. How the hell does he know my name? The man pushes through the bodies jammed into the aisle, unapologetic as he knocks into them. The bus jerks as the journey continues, another man taking the weird man''s place. I wipe away more condensation and peer out. Creeper Dude stands on the sidewalk amongst paper whipping around his feet. People veer around him as he remains still, a phone to his ear. I watch him as the bus attempts to pull into the flow of passing traffic. As he stares straight back at me and smiles. # "Don''t you think it''s time you moved on and made some real life progression?" Aidan pushes his blond hair from where it falls into his eyes, the obvious intention to make the hard stare in his blue eyes clearer. I stuff chocolate cake into my mouth and wait for him to finish his lecture. I''ve known Aidan since high school; we became friends through our love of gaming. Before then, I never would''ve spoken to the skinny guy from the geek clique. Sure, us nerds and geeks existed outside the school''s social epicentre, but we''re separate species. Some were hybrids, like Aidan, but the two tribes were always distinct. "Move on? Like, leave the city?" I ask and crumbs fall to the plate. Aidan pulls a disparaging face and holds up his hand, fingers outstretched. "Kitchen hand. Waitress. Office cleaner... See a pattern?" "What pattern?" "Mundane jobs. Crap pay. You''ll end up stuck in them forever. Why don''t you find something you want to do? Move on." "I graduated from kitchen hand to waitress, thank you." I reply and poke at my cake. "Now I''ve moved on and work in a corporate office." "Cleaning them. El, there must be something better." "Whatever," I mutter inwardly cringing at how childish I sound. "Once I decide what I want to do career-wise, I''ll do it. Can we end the monthly lecture now?" "Okay. I''ll diarise the next one." Aidan pulls out his phone and I scowl. "So you screwed up your grades and missed college. It''s not the end of life. You can try again." "Uh. I thought the lecture was over." Three years out of school, drifting away to the city from the small town and disappointed parents. Yes, I''m smart and had great GPA until senior year. Then I flunked a test. Then another. My grades dropped, and along with them my confidence. The nagging started you''re a smart girl, don''t let yourself down, don''t ruin your life. I''d end each day paralysed by anxiety that I''d screw up. Then I screwed up. Cue more anxiety. I dropped study, spending hours in my room immersed in the online game where I could control my life. Achievements and rewards in game were simpler, direction clearer. What did it matter that I couldn''t win in reality? I dropped my studies and the game took over my life and mind. If I''m dramatic, I''d say the game saved my life when I couldn''t cope; pulled me back from a black hole sucking me in. But I''m not dramatic and never told anybody. I didn''t admit gaming is the reason I failed, and that I didn''t care. My ties to the online world strengthened, our guild known for excellence, my name high on the leaderboards. Every time I attempt to sever those ties, something pulls me back. I panic without my daily connection with this other me. Sometimes literally. If I let go, the black hole could gape open and this time I may not escape. A plastic stirrer bounces off my cheek. "Pay attention, El." "What''s the dramatic thing you need to tell me?" Aidan takes a furtive look around and them pushes his phone across the table. "I keep getting these weird messages. They arrive at night and I hear voices but can''t figure out what they''re saying. The next day my screen is covered in this." My pulse chugs higher because I know what he''s about to show me. A message from yesterday looks back at me. And another, older. "Shit." I half-breathe the word, elongating the vowel. My fingers tremble as I pull my phone from my pocket and open my messages. "I thought it was you guys playing one of your dumb tricks. I received some too." "Why is mine failed?" I ask. "All of them?" "Sometimes this." "How many?" asks Aidan. "About half a dozen over the last week. I sent a reply to the number they arrived from." I swipe back to my message list and hold my screen to show Aidan. Aidan snorts. "I showed Pete & Mike but they shrugged it off. I don''t think they''re lying. If they want to prank, they''ll do it ingame." "Huh." I sink back and swap cake for coffee. "Looks like I''m the failure again." "Or the messages failed, not you." Aidan''s intense sometimes, such as today and his ''sort your life out, El'' lecture, but I don''t often see him bolt upright in his seat and edgy. He taps the table and lowers his voice. "Do you hear anything at night?" "Yeah. Voices, when I''m falling asleep and too borderline unconscious to remember or make sense of what they say." I drain the cup. "I''ve always had crazy dreams though, so didn''t think anything of it." If anything, the texts annoy me. I''ve had my fair share of dick pics and harassment as a successful female gamer, but my skin''s as thick as a demon''s hide these days. The issue - I don''t tolerate sleep interruption. When I''m yanked out of sleep for a few seconds, it''s bloody hard to find my way back into crazy dreams of R-rated situations with Jensen Ackles. Hence the ''leave me the hell alone'' text. But Aidan has texts too, and that opens a new dimension to the situation. "I''m sure this is all a joke," I say with a smile. "Maybe we should send some to Pete and Mike." "Hmm. We should. Assholes." He breaks into a grin but his eyes don''t match the light humour. I click the phone off and return to my cake. I don''t mention the creepy guy on the bus. # The laptop screen glows on my nearby desk as I shuffle down in bed, exhausted after the last week''s double shifts. At least my bank balance left the critical list - or has until I head to the mall again tomorrow. I''ve saved for an upgrade, sick of the random crashing mid-game that''s increased the last few weeks. No more salivating over the latest Alienware; I''m bringing that baby home. The money should be earmarked for a sofa but I''d rather stick with my plastic garden chairs than drop my rank in game. Hell, I spend most evenings in my desk chair anyway. I''m snapped back to consciousness like an elastic band as the whispering voices start again. I strain to hear, as always, but never do. Urgent. One male, one female. Arguing. My phone pings. Oh for fuck''s sake... I grab my phone. Normally I''d ignore trolls, but not when they think it''s amusing to psych me out. Half way through typing a expletive filled response, I jolt as my laptop screen flashes to life, illuminating the room. My chest tightens and I take a tentative look at the screen. Patch downloading. Thank God, the bloody download stalled this week, and I''d worried the updates wouldn''t be installed. Happened once before and I was locked out of the Game for one frustrating week, forced to take a trip to the local internet cafe. I hold a hand out to close the laptop lid and my stomach tightens to match my chest as the screen flashes. Blue screen, filled with jumbled numbers and letters. I know little about programming, no point me trying to read this. If this old model is dying, thank the stars my laptop quest finishes tomorrow. Symbols join row after row of lowercase letters, interspersed with numbers, white against the blue screen. My external hard drive flashes too, a dull whining emitted from the black box. Shit. My dying laptop is about to take the drive down with her. My photos. When did I last back them up to the Cloud? I seize hold of the hard drive and rip the cable from the USB port. The whining continues and I grasp my hands over my ears. A pressure grows behind my eyes, pushing white across my vision. Pain traverses my body, travelling along nerve endings as if I''ve been injected with poison. I gasp for breath as the sensation builds in my chest, a crushing weight knocking me backwards. The screen blackens as I do. Chapter Two I''m hit by the familiar feeling I''m falling in my dream, the sensation that happens halfway between sleep and awake where my body jolts as if I really did fall and land back in consciousness. This time I heave a breath as I land, immediately aware I''m not in the soft warmth of my bed. Damp leaves stick to my cheek, the musty smell of earth and decay surrounding my head. Not my apartment. The top of my heads presses against a hard object, and I reach out a hand. A tree trunk scrapes against my fingernails as I run fingers over the bark. I squint above, where clouds move across the night sky, moonlight phasing in and out as they do, then pull myself onto my hands and knees, fighting down the dizzy nausea to focus on my surroundings. The trees surround the copse I woke in, canopies touching. What the hell? I rub my head, as if it would push back in any memories of how I arrived here. I''m positive I headed to bed and not out for a mind-blanking, alcohol-fuelled night. Omigod. Creeper Dude. Did he break into my apartment? Somehow drug me? Is he nearby? I scramble backwards, rest against the tree and hold my breath, listening again. Silence. An object catches my eye; a bag resting against the trunk next to me. I reach out, then catch sight of my wrist. A silver band, too tight to push over my hand if I tried, clamps around my skin. A small screen flickers to life as I tap the surface and blue words appear. Eleanor Mage Magic Specialisation: Unknown Level 1 HP 5 Mana 10 Spells: Fire Scorch Weapon Proficiency: Staves +1 The text disappears and I shake my arm. What the hell? I need more information. I''d hardly call my job as a cleaner magical, although scorching Faceless into oblivion would be tempting. Besides, I play a Cleric in the game. The sleeve of black cloth shirt I''m dressed in drops over the band. I don''t own a black shirt. I touch the shirt, and stare at the loose black pants and thin shoes; neither came from my wardrobe. Fear trickles across my scalp and down my neck as my dream-like state fades. Where the hell am I, and why? I grab the light, brown canvas bag and pull open the belt-like fastening. Yep, light because it''s empty. Screw this, I need to move. Who ever brought me here could be back any moment with cable ties and unspeakable plans for me. Standing, I haul the bag across my shoulder and stumble through the trees into the dark. At each leaf crunch I wince and pause in case I alerted someone. The thin shoes allow stealth, but every rock and fallen branch presses into my sore feet. The forest thins and I spot a path nearby. Do I walk into the open? Or stay in the tree''s cover? I grip the bag strap as I deliberate. Something moves in the shadows behind, and I spin around. A small clicking sound, more rustling. Yeah, path seems like a good idea right now. I back up in the path''s direction, straining to see what''s making the sound. The shadow moves, growing larger as it approaches, plunging from the darkness towards me. Holy fuck. A spider. A huge ass, red and black creature twice the height of me. I''m not an arachnophobe, but when a spider this big enters my world, I''ve no desire to stick around. Red Widow Level 1 Non-aggressive HP 5 The creature moves forward and I trip; the forest floor greeting me as I fall backwards. Non-aggressive? Seriously? Fear tingles through and along my arm. No, not fear, something else. A pressure builds as the spider lifts a leg, feeling its way across the forest floor. The bracelet surrounding my arm buzzes and I glance down. Fire arcs from my right hand, hitting the spider squarely in the head, an explosion of orange light surrounding the creature. I shield my eyes with one arm, and when I brave peeking out I''m not sure what shocks me the most. The size, the burnt corpse - or the fact I just threw a frickin fireball out of my fingers. Fire Scorch Crits Spider for 8 (overkill) "Oh yeah, nice. The whole bloody lot will come now," remarks a voice from behind. I scramble to my feet. A guy around my age, tall, scruffy blond hair, built like the proverbial brick house stares down at me. "You do know they don''t attack unless you do." "What?" "The spiders. Get on the path, dwarf." He laughs. "Gnome?" "I''m human," I snap. "You''re the bloody giant." I appraise him. Identical backpack, loose clothes that match mine. Sour look joined with curiosity in his eyes. "Get on the path," he repeats. A branch cracks behind me, a multitude of clicking sounds filling the air. More dark shadows loom.Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings. "Shit!" I don''t need telling again and hightail past the guy, not stopping as I run along the path. "Do you even know where you''re going?" he calls after me. I halt and look back as the guy strides closer. "Do you?" I ask. "I don''t even know where I fucking came from." His bracelet pings at the same time as mine and I glance down. Ewan Cleric Level 1 HP 5 Mana 10 Spells: Holy Strike Weapon Proficiency: Staves +5 "Mage?" he asks. "Cleric?" I laugh. "You should be a tank." His eyes narrow. "Yeah, they should at least let us choose." "Who?" "Who the fuck knows? I''ve spent the last hour wandering around in circles trying to find a road. All I''ve found is this path that goes on forever. And a shitload of spiders." A sound in the forest triggers the hairs in the back of my neck and he waves a hand at me. "Keep walking. If we get far enough away, they''ll stop following." I attempt to match his strides. Is he going to leave me on my own? "Uh. Ewan. What the hell is going on?" "You a gamer?" "Yeah." "I think you''re having an immersive experience." He snorts a laugh. My head scrambles to catch up. "I didn''t sign up for this! This is a joke right?" I tip my head to the sky. "Hello?" "Dunno. Maybe. Thought a guy with a paintball gun might leap from the trees but not some mutant insect." "Spiders aren''t insects." He scowls, lip curling. "Seriously? Semantics bother you in this situation? I don''t give a shit, they''re not normal. Mutant spiders? Magic conjured by our hands wasting them? I swear, somebody has dumped us into a game." "VR?" I wipe hands across my face, feeling for a headset. "Believe me, this is fucking reality." "Well, I wouldn''t be level 1 if this is a game, I''m level 50 in the game I play. And I wouldn''t choose to play a Mage." "I guess you re-rolled. Me? Level 50 Paladin and mythical armor when I play." He gestures at himself. "Look at this. Level 1 cloth. Cleric for fucks sake." He shakes his backpack. "Zilch in here. Not even a bloody weapon." "You can cast instead of using a weapon?" I suggest. "I never, ever play casters." "I guess you re-rolled," I mimic.With another withering look, the guy turns and walks away again. "Where are you going?" "To find a way out." My band pings as I catch up. Darkwood Forest. Old Kingdom Territory Original... I tap the band again, and as I walk the screen fills, each step along the path expands the size of a small map, filling in the blanks. "How long have you been here?" I ask Ewan. "Couple of hours?" "You woke up here too?" Ewan stops and holds up a hand. "Shush." He extends a finger and points into the trees. A faint light filters through and he steps towards the thick trees which obscure the . "Maybe that''s somewhere we need to go." "Um. See those in the trees? Spiders? I''m not bloody going near them. They might avenge me for killing their brethren." My semi-sarcasm hides the fear this is a possibility. He halts and turns his head. "Starter area, Eleanor. Don''t touch them and you''ll be fine." "Yeah. Think I might stay here." "Suit yourself." On a path to nowhere. On my own. "Fuck it," I mutter under my breath and edge after Ewan, around the trees. The further we move from the path, the denser the woods. White web wraps around tree branches above, and I glance away tensing in case something lands on me from above. Besides, I do not want to know if anything or anybody is trapped. The clicking noise from before intensifies as the black and red monsters appear. Involuntary tingling in my arm intensifies again. "Don''t touch them!" Ewan calls over his shoulder. Sure. They''re not walking towards him. I catch sight of a broken branch on the ground near one of the spiders. I have a bloody hard time believing the creatures won''t aggro, or how long my mana will last if I need to kill a few. I grab the stick. Another wristband buzz and information. Darkwood Stave Sometimes you gotta make the most of what you have Level 1 +1 Wisdom Stave? That''s optimistic. Although, good weight, sturdy, long enough to hit the bastards with from a distance. The spiders movement follows a pattern, back and forth, sometimes leaving space between them. Aidan and me play old school video games, and I kick his ass on the Frogger scoreboard. Their movements continue to follow a pattern, legs rising and falling, but oblivious to me or Ewan. I study the pattern for a few minutes until I snatch my chance and rush through a gap left by their dance. I point the branch at one on the way past. Starter area or not, how do we know these are non-aggressive to practice on? Stave, my ass. My mum''s dog chases bigger sticks than this. As I catch up to Ewan, the spiders remain in their weird pattern, their sound fading behind. A single-storey, stone cottage rests several meters away. The dim light Ewan spotted from the path shines out and illuminates a window on the left hand side, closer to us. As we tread along a makeshift pathway, created by regular walking through the trees, a small, tilled field appears in front. Ewan''s dark clothes cloak him, and I slam into his back as he stops. "What''s wrong?" I ask. "Um. Might want to slow down." "Why?" Again the derisive noise that seems to be a key part of his verbal repertoire. He points at my tree branch. "What''s that?" "A weapon." "Give it to me." "No." I clutch the stick closer. "I found it." He jabs a finger towards the nearby building. "I''m going over there. I need your tree branch in case the occupant is less friendly than our spider mates." "You''re a caster," I remind him. "Screw that." He reaches out for my weapon and I step back, ducking from his hands. "Are you usually a thieving asshole?" I hold the stick between us in warning. I swipe at his hand as he attempts to grab the stave again. "Find your own tree branch!" I''m in a forest with no clue how or why, and I''m fighting with somebody over a large stick? A bloody stick. Jesus, El. "Bet there''s something better to fight with in the house," he sneers and drops his attempt. "What? Like a table leg? Epic." "You are... irritating." I bet that''s not the word in his head. "I hope we part company soon." "Same," I mutter but we both know the truth: safety in numbers. Heel to toe, he steps cautiously towards the house and flattens his back against the bricks. His height allows him a glance through the window and I peer through the dim, heart thumping. Ewan seizes hold of something and laughs loudly, waving the item in my direction. A gardening fork. Skip''s Fork Pointy and sharp Level 1 + 1 Attack Power "Screw you and your stick!" he calls. "Shush!" "There''s nobody in there. Come on." Before I reach him, Ewan rounds the corner, his bulk disappearing from view. "What about Skip? He might be nearby and might not like you robbing his fork." Gripping my weapon, I follow. Ewan stands in the middle of a small room with dirty wooden floor and chipped bare brick walls. The place smells dank and as earthy as the woods. This can''t be a home? A table, chair and - "Fuck, yeah!" The fork clatters to the ground as Ewan stoops down. I crane my head past him. A large wooden, chest is tucked in the corner, one Ewan scrabbles to open with little success. More colourful language escapes his lips as he wrestles with the locked, metal catch. I''d help, but chances are he won''t share what''s inside. Besides, if he needs my help he can bloody ask nicely. I plonk my backside onto the roughly hewn chair, and sink back into the questions in my head. How am I here? Why? I''m not in the habit of waking up in a virtual world, surrounded by huge ass spiders and a huge ass guy. A lifetime urban dweller, I''ve no clue how to survive outdoors, with or without my new fiery personality. Ha ha. "Maybe blast it open?" I suggest. "Good point." He reaches behind him for the gardening fork and attempts to prise open the lid with a rusted prong. "Why won''t you just use your magic?" I huff and outstretch my arm, focusing on building the pulsing power from before. "Stand back." "As if that would -" Fire seers the wood, as it shoots from my hand, but the wood barely scorches. "Huh." "See?" He takes the fork again. "Leave it. I''m too tired for this crap. Let''s go. There''s no accessible loot or quest here." "Loot or quest?" He half-laughs. "All I want is out." "Then come on." A blurred figure appears at Ewan''s side, male, skinny, arm around Ewan''s neck holding what looks like an animal claw held against his throat. "Fucking ninjas!" Ewan shrieks in alarm. Actually shrieks. Blood streaks the second guy''s face, and if his clothes weren''t black I imagine they''d be as crimson as his hands. Dean Assassin Level 2 Specialisation: Unknown Abilities: Slash Stealth AP + 2 Chapter Three "What the hell?" I ask. "That''s my fucking chest," he growls. "You have the key?" "No, but if you looked carefully enough, you can see the lock. And..." He holds up the animal claw. "I''m gonna open it." Ewan attempts to move but the assassin drops the claw back to his jugular. "You''re level 2," I say, clutching at a way to calm the situation. "Have you been here long?" Listen to me: Do you come here often? Enjoy meeting people? Or just slash their throats? "Since this morning." He narrows his eyes. "Did you arrive together?" "No way!" The unison we shout the word is the only co-operative statement we''ve had. "We met," I explain. "Want to join us?" He falters, shoulders slumping slightly. "Join you doing what?" "Finding a way out. Have you found anything?" I ask. "Any quests that might give us some clue what''s happening here?" "No. I saw somebody else though. Thought she was an NPC until I got closer. She was over by the lake staring into space." "Close enough to know what class?" "Zara. Paladin. Level 2." He nods at me. "Are you a dwarf?" Ewan coughs a laugh and I scowl at his half-smile. "Screw you," I reply. "What you gonna do? Hit me with your stick, sweetheart? You know we can''t hurt each other, right?" Stepping closer, I wiggle my pinky finger at him. "You can keep your tiny weapon away from me." Ewan wrests himself away. "I''m not a ninja! How the hell did I know you saw the chest first?" "You can have what I don''t want," Dean says and squats down. "There''d better be something useful in here." A few minutes later, items pile on the floor next to him. He slides things into a pile for himself: decidedly stale looking bread, a glass bottle with green liquid in and a pair of leather boots. I wriggle my toes, jealous. These shoes aren''t any better than socks. "Take your pick." I pull out a blue, cloth item. Robe of Darkwood Slightly bloodstained. Level 1 + 1 Wisdom +5 HP The originality in the game stuns me. Next we''ll come across Townsville. Or a Great Sandy Desert. Perhaps Excalibur? The robe is roughly cut, with a belt made of twine, and no sleeves. I hold it against myself, the dirty cloth reaches the floor. The last owner didn''t have access to a washing machine, evidently. Or electricity. Or the twenty-first century. I glance up at Ewan''s perpetually scowling face. "Want to fight over this too?" "Don''t want. I''m not wearing a fucking dress!" "Dude, you''re a Cleric. You need the Wisdom," puts in Dean. "Even if I wanted to, it''s too small," he snaps. "I''ll wait for something decent." "Not pretty enough for you?" I ask as I pull the item over my head. "I think it would look lovely. Matches your eyes." He swears at me under his breath and sorts through the rest of the items with the toe of his equally crap shoes. Animal bones. Indistinguishable and foul smelling food stuff, possibly cheese. "Jesus!" I hold my arm across my nose but the smell invades my senses still. Ewan sinks onto the floor and puts his head in his hands, muttering something. Have I overstepped the mark? My adrenaline pushed me through the last hour or so; Ewan found himself in... wherever we are earlier than me. This shit is real and we''re totally unprepared. Silence follows the loot distribution, but the hostility remains; distrust on all sides. I pick up the green bottle. "This might be worth keeping." Anti-Pestilence Potion Cures all diseases up to Level 3 "No healing potions?" asks Ewan. I poke at the other items. Mouldy Cheese Tastes better than it smells Doubles Health Revival Points "This?" Ewan shakes his head in disgust. Does he not remember that at this level we take anything and everything? I shove it into my backpack. "So, do you come here often?" I ask Dean with a light tone I''m not feeling right now. "Huh?" "Level 2. You must''ve seen more of the world than we have." He shrugs. "Killed a shitload of spiders."If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it. "And that levelled you up?" asks Ewan. "Yeah. Been grinding my way through them. Figured I might find some decent loot too." He holds up the claw. "But nope. I forgot how useless starting area gear is." I rest my elbow on the table and support my head in my hands. "Has anybody caught up to how crazy this is?" Dean fastens his bulging backpack and shrugs it onto his shoulder. "I''m not stopping to think anything, I''m going to level up and find out how the hell to win this." "Win?" I ask. "Uh. It''s a game, Eleanor." "Oh? Thanks for the reminder," I snark. "If it''s a game where are the quests? And how come no character selection screen?" Ewan grabs his favourite gardening implement and stands. "He has a point. Maybe we should wipe the forest of spiders together and level up? Find a town? We might find someone with more information who can show us mechanics. Maybe we cam choose character skills properly - one spell is shit." Together. We eye each other, unable to hide the suspicion. I haven''t thought past the end of the road we followed before veering off into this cottage. If past game experience is anything to go by, the further we go the less likely monsters will dance around, ignoring us and the more likely they''ll rip our heads off. But Ewan''s right. We need to find somebody to clarify what the hell is going on. If we''re in a game, we need help to gain the skills needed to fight and level. "What the hell is happening?" I mumble to myself, looking back to the empty chest. Something catches my eye, a round object resting in the bottom corner of the wooden box. I reach in and close my hand over a smooth white stone, around an inch in diameter. "What''s that?" asks Dean. "Not sure." I hold the object in the palm of my hand and, as I do, a faint blue pattern appears on the surface. A rune? I trace the symbol I vaguely recognise, circular with a triangle and letter S in the centre. Quest: Find Rueben at the inn in Grunwald and show him the stone. Reward: 500 XP Reward: A mysterious meal Ewan takes the stone from my palm and immediately the rune fades. He wrinkles his nose and hands it back. "I guess we''re heading to Grunwald then. Hopefully he can point me to the exit." Somehow, I don''t think the exit will appear anytime soon. # Dean and claw, Ewan and fork, plus me and tree branch venture into the dark night now gripping the game world. The temperature dropped too, and I shiver despite my extra layer. "We gonna farm these spiders and level up?" asks Ewan and strides towards a pack. "Use your spell..." Too late, blood spurts from a puncture wound as the unfortunate creature receives three prongs in the head. "Guys!" Dean steps back, disappearing into the shadows. A grey mist gathers across the overgrown field outside the cottage, spreading towards us. Dry mouthed, I watch as a tall figure lumbers across the field, feet dragging behind. The figure approaches and the cheese in my bag has nothing on the stench emanating from the rotting corpse. A ripped plaid shirt reveals bone protruding through skin. I don''t want my bones protruding through my skin any time soon. "Okay... Time to leave." A strangled noise emanates from the decaying mouth and I''m glad the horror hides in the dark. A close up, brightly lit version of this thing''s face wouldn''t help my fear factor right now. Ewan spins around. "Where did the Assassin go?" "Stealthed." I edge towards Ewan as tingling begins in my shoulder coursing along my arm and to my wrist. A small ball of fire forms in my hand, and I''m transfixed by the perfect sphere - and lack of third degree burns. Skip Morris Farmer (well, he was) Level 2 Undead Aggressive Difficulty level: High HP 20 The creature lurches at Ewan, blackened hands reaching for his weapon. A fireball hits the side of his head as the magic leaves my hand, but Skip continues to advance. "I think this guy wants his gardening fork back," I say. "Shit!" Ewan drops the fork and backs up. He outstretches an arm and a ball of white light forms in his hand to match the way my fireballs do. His spell crashes from above, as if dropped from the night sky, and hits Skip in the arm. "Dean!" I call as the creature gains on us. The undead farmer lunges at me and I sidestep him. He falls towards Ewan and before he has a chance to move, Skip sinks his teeth into Ewan''s arm and knocks him to the floor. Something surges inside at the sight of Ewan''s skin torn to his flesh; not only terror for my own life but for this stranger who could be easily be me. The energy builds in my arm again, the length of time the tingling takes to build to a rushing power frustrates me. Dear Game Gods, an instacast spell next level, please... Dean''s figure emerges from the shadows, his claw instantaneously ripping the creatures skin with as much force as Skip did Ewan''s. The creature drops his attention to Ewan and me, and dull eyes turn to Dean. My fireball lights the surroundings again as it hits the creature''s chest. The undead farmer shifts his focus to me and I stumble back. Ewan''s no use, holding one arm with another frozen in shock. I can''t look. Don''t want to see the injury. Blood and gore in game is all good, but I''ve never been a horror fan. Right now, I''m an extra in an episode of The Walking Dead. Dean continues side-stepping and slashing the creature, a criss cross of jagged lines on the flesh, oozing black fluid. Skip suddenly reaches for Dean''s arm and he yells as the monster twists it around. My spell scorches Skip''s hand and the creature drops his grip with a guttural yowl. "We should run," says Dean. "We can''t leave him." I incline my head to where Ewan''s dragged himself to rest against a tree trunk, face contorted with pain. "Can you walk, man?" calls Dean, ducking another blow from Skip. Ewan doesn''t respond with anything but the swearing from behind his clenched teeth. One thought skitters across my mind: if I die here, is my real life over too? "Hey, zombie asshole!" calls a female voice. Footsteps thud across the forest floor behind, branches cracking. Seconds later, the delightfully undead Skip''s face meets a wooden shield with a bone-crunching result. He howls and my casting stops in surprise. A girl with a long blonde braid, holding a short sword and battered shield launches her tall figure at Skip, goading him on as she dodges attacks. Zara Paladin Level 3 Abilities: Crush Spells: Holy Bind Strength + 4 HP 30 "Stop gawking and kill it already, Mage," she snaps at me. "Right." The situation I''m in fades to nothing but survival, thoughts and feelings muted as I summon fireball after fireball as the three of us wear down the creature. As his body crashes to the floor my watch chimes. Level 2 HP + 5 Mana + 5 New ability: Fire Storm Conjures a storm cloud which rains fire on all enemies within five yards. Cast time 5 seconds. The chime repeats around me, for Dean and the semi-conscious Ewan, then silence. My breath comes in short bursts, chest aching, but unscathed. Zara bends down and wipes her ichor stained sword on Skip''s ragged shirt. Stony faced, she rifles through his pockets and pulls out several items. Square of cloth (crusty, possibly handkerchief) Handful of pebbles A gold band: Skip''s Wedding Ring + 2 Wisdom "Hmm. No point me having this." She tosses the item in my direction and almost misses my outstretched hands. "His boots look okay, but I have better." She unlaces them and yanks one off Skip''s foot. "Help me," she says to Dean. "They stats are good for you." Skip''s Favorite Boots +2 Agility While they''re busy stripping poor Skip of his otherworldly possessions, I crouch down next to Ewan and touch his arm. He snaps his eyes open in his pale, perspiring face and cradles his arm. Ewan Diseased - 2 Stamina Zombie saliva. Leeches 2 health per second. I turn to Dean sitting on the floor, lacing up the light leather boots, and at Zara tossing a coin in the air, and catching. "I think he''s dying. We don''t have any healing spells." "I do, used it on myself. Weak but might work on him." She stands says nonchalantly and straightens. "Besides, we can''t let the healer die." This gets worse. Fantastic I''m not on my own, but somebody or something threw together a tank, a healer and two DPS. And I''m willing to bet that the ''something'' isn''t fate. The stars push through the clouds above, full moon illuminating the scene around me. I could cope with spiders and Ewan''s rudeness, but he''s dying in front of my eyes. And something tried to kill me. I focus on dampening down the panic as Zara leans over Ewan. She places a hand on his forehead. "You''re gonna be okay." "It fucking hurts," he mumbles and holds out his arm; his skin continues to blacken. I tear open my bag and pull out the small bottle I looted earlier and uncork it with my teeth. "Here." Ewan gulps back the liquid and his pained face softens as the black dissipates from his skin. I hand him the cheese too and this time there''s no protest over the stench. "We need to find a town. I''m not staying out here all night again," says Zara. "Again?" "Yeah, again. Help him up." Zara turns and grabs her sword, sheathing it in a belt against her thick leather pants. She grabs the shield and takes a hard look at us. "Let''s go before Mrs Zombie appears."