August tumbled forward onto hard-packed soil. He’d fully expected to be impaled on a particularly menacing pair of gardening shears, so when his brain finally caught up to his eyes, it came as quite a shock to find himself not only not dead, but somewhere completely different from where he’d been only seconds ago.

“This place is strange to me...”

August reeled from the booming voice. The words were clearly English, but also not, like something trying to mimic human sounds by jabbing a fork through his eardrum and into his brain. It was easily the strangest sensation he’d ever felt.

August turned to find the one who’d spoken—a tall, bald man with skin as dark as ink and eyes that shone with a golden hue. At least, it might have been a man. He was perhaps too tall, with limbs too long to be truly natural, and his pupils were slit down the middle like a cat. The exposed muscles on his shirtless frame rippled in a strange way as he stretched in place, giving the impression his taut skin was little more than a wrapping to contain something hidden underneath.

“Ayo, I walk blessed beneath the Goddess’s great fat bosom, chosen like my father and my father’s father before me.” Another man walked into the clearing, alerting August to his presence. He was tall as well, but in a more human way compared to the giant cat-man. He sported long flaxen hair pulled back in a knot with a thick beard to match, and the ensemble of leathers and furs draped over his body completed the viking look he was clearly going for.

“But who are these who walk beside me…?” He waved a powerful arm, motioning toward August and the cat-man. “Might be friends to break bread, I wonder.” His fingers slipped toward the blade at his waist, drawing it in a lightning quick movement, an eager smile splitting his face. “Might be foes to sate steel, I hope.”

“Stay yourself.” Another, smaller figure strode from the trees, speaking in a distinctly feminine voice and wrapped in a dark cloak that hid her features. “Heed you not the words of your Goddess? This unlikely gathering is to be an alliance… Unless you claim to know better than she who guides you?”

The viking’s eyes narrowed, shards of ice amidst a frozen tundra. A heartbeat later, he whipped his blade forward in a powerful throw. The woman didn’t even flinch as the blade carved through the air toward her, but before it could even cross half the distance between them the blade reversed trajectory as if suddenly caught in the pull of the world’s most powerful magnet, slicing through the air twice as fast as it’d been thrown and sliding perfectly into the sheathe at the man’s waist. The viking smiled. “Ayo, right you are witch. As the Goddess decrees, this son follows.”

Where the cat-man had been prowling on the edge of August’s vision, he now rose to his full height, towering above even the viking. “My Shadow whispers that you are not to be eaten. This is strange to me, but I will obey.”

The viking raised an eyebrow, shooting the cat-man a queer look. “Cannibals as well as witches? By the Goddess’s supple teat, my expectations were of not a company so fine.” His gaze flicked to August, who felt himself tense as rime-covered orbs froze him in place. “And you, boy? For what manner of twisted deity guides you to this blessed gathering? I’ll be sure if it isn’t the Twelve-Fingered himself dancing ‘neath that sickly flesh, now I’ve a better eye of you.”

August opened his mouth to speak, and found himself at a complete and total loss for words. What was happening? And how the hell was he supposed to answer that? He’d been about to say he didn’t believe in God, but these people were clearly superstitious; what if being an atheist was somehow worse than eating people? He swallowed. “I’m not a cannibal or a witch, if that’s what you’re asking…”

The man eyed him up and down, and shrugged. “I said I’d not put blood to steel. No need to wake the Goddess with your tremblin’.”

He was not trembling. Probably.

A profound silence settled over them as the forest danced upon a tender breeze, the four strangers merely waiting, each taking the measure of the others as a frenetic energy hung on the air, promising violence at the slightest twitch. August dared not even scratch his nose for fear of being pinned to a tree by the viking’s magnet sword.

The cat-man’s eyes flicked to the sky, and those present followed his gaze to catch sight of an arrow whistling straight toward his head, falling in arc over the trees. Cat-man reached up with a long arm… and plucked it right out of the air. He scrutinized it for a moment, and tossed it aside.

August’s brain had pretty much short circuited by that point, but it did occur to him he should probably be worried someone was shooting arrows at them. And yet, several more seconds passed without so much as the snapping of a twig.

“Appearin’ we’re not alone who walk these woods, though I’ll be sure we’re the only who walk blessed.” The viking strode confidently off toward the arrow’s origin, smirk on his face and eyes alight with thrill. “We’ll go’n take a look and see what needs killing, ayo?

The cat-man nodded and crouched, slinking along behind the viking with deceptively graceful movements. The woman stood in place a little while longer, and August couldn’t help but think she looked a little down. A far more normal reaction in his eyes. Eventually, she turned to follow as well, leaving him alone. As for him… he was having trouble deciding between going with them and running in the opposite direction.

New Quest: [A Fork in the Road]

Your party has left you behind, presenting you with a choice.

Objective: Follow or disband your party.

Difficulty: n/a

A pleasant little ding shattered the quiet, startling him badly as a floating box suddenly appeared in front of his face. He stumbled backwards, afraid this was some kind of follow-up attack by the one who’d shot the arrow, though somehow barely managing to keep his feet.

As he read the dialog box informing him of his quest, realization dawned. He was playing a video game. Or at least… he was imagining himself playing a video game. Things like that didn’t just happen in real life, so this must either be the result of too much something, or he’d been kidnapped and trapped in an incredibly realistic simulation.

The latter seemed unreasonable, but the former didn’t track either; he didn’t do drugs—aside from the one time he smoked pot and swore it off forever because of the intense paranoia it made him feel—and he’d never been drunk enough to hallucinate something like this. Even as he tried to rationalize it, his mind was slowly working to convince him otherwise. It was all just so… real; the sun peeking through the canopy, the scents of nature carried on the breeze—

A mighty howl interrupted his thoughts, coming from the direction his apparent party had gone. August gave up on contemplating his situation for the time being, and sprinted toward the sound. He highly doubted they needed him, but if he was going to be cornered by a pack of wolves he wanted the wizard-viking on his side. A minute later he crashed through the brush, emerging on the side of a small cliff overlooking a natural ravine.

Down in the ravine was a group of what August could only assume were elves, dressed in some kind of spartan uniform that screamed military. They were pressed into a tight formation, completely surrounded by otherworldly, vaguely humanoid creatures formed of a deep shadow so dark it was like staring into a black hole. The elves’ formation was broken intentionally in one spot to allow a few of their member to drag the limp forms of their comrades back within, and perhaps the most stunning woman August had ever seen stood at the fore, guarding their retreat.

Sharp ears poked through raven-black hair falling over skin as pale as moonlight. Two streaks of red marred her cheek, though whether blood or paint he didn’t know, and in her hands was what seemed to be an actual katana, held pointed at the encroaching shadows. August couldn’t help but feel there was something odd about seeing such a delicate face twisted with so much hate, but life-or-death situations weren’t exactly the norm for broke college students, either.

This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

Quest: [A Fork in the Road] has been updated to [Providing Aid].

You’ve come across a group of Askarian soldiers ambushed by the Spite. Help them drive back the enemy.

Objectives: Spite slain 2/31.

Difficulty: Easy.

August shoved the notification out of the way, a distant part of his brain registering their two confirmed kills. A moment later, the source of the howling became clear as a great wolf dove from the cliff, falling the twenty-some odd feet to the ravine floor with a roar loud enough to rattle August’s bones. Atop it sat the viking, manic glee in his eyes as he whipped his sword outward, arcing it like a boomerang to catch two of the creatures unawares, the sword slicing them fully in half before completing its arc and returning to his hand.

August’s eyes bulged out of his head. The magnet sword was impressive enough, but the viking was riding a wolf the size of a car. Said wolf had begun tearing into the shadow creatures, violently eviscerating them with powerful jaws, drenching its fur and the earth below with blood too dark to be human.

Something shuffled behind him, and August whipped around—coming face to face with a shadow creature lunging for his throat. He froze, his brain not quite able to keep up with the chaotic frenzy of the situation and certainly unable to send the command to move to his paralyzed legs. It was too sudden—he was going to die. He wasn’t even sure if this was the first or second time.

A mere heartbeat before shadowy fingers tore his windpipe out, the sound of snapping bones filled his ears. A horrible maw appeared behind the creature, opening wide to reveal rows and rows and rows and rows of sharpened yellow teeth. It slammed down with a thunderous impact, taking the whole creature into its mouth like a snake swallowing a live mouse.

August would never forget the sight of the maw undulating with the shadow creature writhing inside, nor the sound of those many rows of teeth grinding flesh and bone. In moments the maw ceased chewing and snapped shut, receding into a nearby tree. August’s eyes automatically tracked it to its source, finding the cat-man clinging to the bark like an actual cat, slit yellow eyes staring at him with something far removed from humanity.

August turned and vomited onto the dirt. By the time he looked back, the cat-man was gone.

Despite the fact he’d been saved, heavy dread settled in his heart like a stone. Cat-man was still up there, somewhere… watching. August could feel jaundiced eyes on the back of his neck.

“How revolting.”

August started at the witch’s presence, but found some relief in it as well—she was a welcome sight compared to his other party member. He wiped his lips and took a deep breath, glancing down at his pile of puke and back at the witch. “I hope you’re talking about the other guy…”

She sighed, shaking her head under the thick hood concealing her face. “There was a time I would not have suffered such a creature to live… How unfortunate we find ourselves bound by the same dubious purpose.”

“And what purpose is that, exactly?” August asked, sensing an opportunity.

The woman tilted her head curiously, then waved a hand toward the quickly dwindling creatures of shadow. “Them, of course. Surely your chosen deity informed you of such?”

Chosen deity? Not likely--he was skeptical of religion at best.

Although… he did recall seeing some weird messages earlier, like a program spitting out errors. He’d seen enough code garble to recognize it, being a computer science student and all around slave to his own machine. Maybe his computer was his chosen deity. He almost snorted at the absurdity of the thought, but something stopped him.

Unless…?

There was no way, right? Was that really an avenue worth considering?

Apparently it was, because his brain decided to run away with it.

This could be some kind of alien thing where they interfaced with people using methods their minds could comprehend… which probably would be religion for many. But for a maybe-agnostic, mostly-atheist compsci student…? Might as well be a computer, right? Was that sad…? For some reason it felt kind of sad.

Still, he was making some very large assumptions from a single offhanded comment, and now wasn’t exactly the best time to continue puzzling it out, anyway. There was a pleasant ding again, causing him to swivel his head around for the notification box he’d thrust out of the way earlier.

Quest [Providing Aid] complete.

Spite slain 31/31.

Participation: 0.1%

Due to low participation, reward has been reduced significantly.

Reward: [Rusty Dagger](Poor)

There was the sudden feeling of… something being given to him, like an infinitesimal weight settling on his shoulders. As far as he could tell, there was no Rusty Dagger to be seen—but quest rewards generally weren’t equipped immediately, were they?

The moment he thought the word inventory, a box containing a grid popped up in front of his face, and in the top left slot was a small icon in the shape of a dagger. With a quick thought, another window popped up with the item’s information.

Rusty Dagger

Type: Thrusting, Slicing

A blade covered in rust. The nicks along the edge indicate it may have seen frequent use at one point, but that time is long past.

So many questions. Did the game generate loot from nothing or simply pull it from somewhere else? Was there some guy out there with one less knife to worry about? Judging by the age of the thing, it wasn’t something anyone would actually miss, but it was still a bit rude to jack someone’s stuff like that. Especially because August would probably be earning things with real value soon enough—things that would definitely be missed.

Still, he found that particular moral quandary fairly easy to write off as someone else’s problem… at least until it became his problem.

Moving on.

What did it mean the dagger had no displayed damage range? In a game, the minimum and maximum damage of an item were often predetermined, and yet there was nothing like that on his dagger. There were a bunch of reasons he might not see damage numbers, the most glaringly obvious being the whole game thing was just a thin veneer over what was otherwise normal reality—there were no damage calculations in real life, only varying levels of fucked. It was also possible the dagger was so messed up the game didn’t register it as a weapon… or maybe the devs were just going for realism.

There were too many possibilities to consider, and it seemed a little silly to stand around trying to decipher the underlying principles of the game from a notification window when he was quite possibly in imminent danger. Well that, and there were more exciting tests to be done.

He reached for the icon and felt his fingers brush against rough leather, and began pulling the Rusty Dagger into existence an inch at a time, as if summoning it from his personal pocket dimension—which of course was probably exactly what his inventory was.

Despite still not quite allowing himself to believe any of this was actually happening, August felt himself smile. It was a damn cool experience, dream or no… and he’d always wanted a personal pocket dimension.

“Fascinating.” The woman’s voice made him jump—he’d completely forgotten she was still standing there.

Personal pocket dimensions couldn’t be that weird compared to everything else that’d happened in the last five minutes, right? August made to ask, but before he could formulate his question the cat-man’s deep rumble resonated from just behind his back, almost giving him what must’ve been his fifteenth heart attack in an obscenely short amount of time. His nerves were clearly shot if he was this damn jumpy.

“The beast rider beckons,” Cat-man said, pointing a long limb toward the ravine.

Sure enough, the viking was standing near the elves, smirking and motioning for them to join him. The great wolf stood nearby, cleaning the black-blood out of its fur while the elven contingent watched in awe. All save for the woman with the black hair… who was staring directly at him for whatever reason.

The witch turned and walked away without a word, followed by the cat-man in his strangely horrifying way, all exaggerated motions and sinister grace. August didn’t really want to be left alone when more of those creatures could show up at any moment, but that was almost preferable to being anywhere near Cat-man’s freaky shit.

Ding!

He sighed, glancing at the notification box demanding his attention.

New Quest: [The Fate of a People]

The Spite have taken root in Askar. Destroy them.

Objective: Eradicate the Spite infestation in Askar.

Difficulty: ???

New Quest: [The Spitelord Cometh]

For all their power, it is not enough. You may be this world’s only hope.

Objectives: Grow strong, son of man.

Difficulty: Impossible

August craned his neck up, looking past the clouds at whoever was responsible for his life taking such a strange turn, and frowned.

“What’s worse, unknown or impossible…?”

Predictably, he received no answer.

He sighed, and began making his way down the cliff.