“Congratulations! Your savior has arrived!”

Marcus made his proclamation from atop an outcropping of damp, mossy rocks overlooking the shaded forest encampment. Several people turned to look, and a few more poked their heads out of canvas tents and mud and stick huts. Some manner of songbird chirped from the silver branches overhead. The black leaves rustled in the mid morning breeze.

It had taken Marcus several hours since he had awoken at dawn to reach the settlement, and he hadn’t been attacked once. It was almost disappointing—if not for the vivid beauty of the forest and coast. He had expected the Wraithlands to be foul, miserable, and far less colorful.

A well toned and muscled man grabbed a spear and strode out of the wooden gate. He was wearing a brown animal pelt around his torso, and his pants looked like some kind of reptile hide.

“Who the fuck are you?” He barked, indicating Marcus with a jab of his spear.

Marcus gave him a winning smile and bowed with a flourish. “Marcus Vinecelli, professional hero and part time lover, at your service.”

The man eyed him skeptically. “Did one of Salieri’s men send you?”

Marcus cocked his head. “Salieri? Never heard of him. If you mean to inquire about my work status, I’m self-employed.”

A blonde haired young woman in a tattered cloak stepped up to join the spear wielder. She placed a delicate hand on his shoulder.

“Tarken, it’s arrival day, remember?”

The spearman—Tarken, apparently—flinched at her touch before relaxing. “Shit, I forgot.” He looked down at the ground and scratched his head sheepishly before glancing back up towards Marcus. “Alright, you can come on down. Sorry about that. We’re all a little on edge here lately.”

The young woman scoffed as Marcus descended from the rocks. “It’s only you who’s on edge. You’re so damn tight, I could feed you dirt and you’d shit out bricks.”

Tarken clenched his jaw. “Alright, you,” he commanded, glaring at Marcus. “Come with us, and we’ll let you know how things work around here. Ignore Lilian. She thinks that she’s hot stuff now that she has a mark.”

His blonde companion snorted as he turned back towards the gate.

“So,” Tarken began as they passed through the fence of sharpened silver logs and into the compound, “what did you do to end up here?”

Marcus frowned as he trailed next to Lilian behind the spear wielder. “Oh, I wasn’t exiled, if that’s what you mean,” he replied. “I came here on my own.”

Tarken snorted.

“Why would you do that?” Lilian asked.

Marcus shrugged. “Boredom, I guess.”

The trio walked towards the center of the settlement. Silver branches arced overhead, their black leaves shading the compound from the light of the sun—a sun which took the shape of a brilliant, slitted eye. Marcus had noticed the oddity immediately—he had woken up to a sunrise over the ocean, after all.

The small settlement was mostly composed of simple tents and huts—but as they neared the center, several larger and sturdier log buildings rose from stone foundations.

“Well, you’ll die here now,” Tarken said. “The Warden will make sure of that.”

Oh, Marcus didn’t doubt that he would die in the Wraithlands. In fact, he already had. He just wouldn’t stay dead.

He had already tried returning to the overworld—he had left his spawn points in various locations there—but something had blocked him and forced him to respawn back where he first arrived in the Wraithlands.

“The Warden?” he asked.

Tarken answered without looking back. “The ruler of the island. One of her marks makes her immortal. There’s one exit to the overworld, and she keeps it sealed.”

Marcus nearly leapt for joy. A villain—and an immortal one to boot! And not only that, but a villain who could trump his own mark and hold an entire dimension prisoner? He already felt that this particular quest was going to be fun.

There was one important question though. What kind of villain was she?

“Does she monologue?” He asked.

Shaking his head in confusion, Tarken took a moment to reply. “I… don’t know? She generally stays holed up in her mountain fortress. She sends a lot of notes though—they say they’re colorful.”

Marcus’s hopes rose.

“I will slay the Warden, then,” he proclaimed, thumping his fist to his chest.

But not before he gave her a chance to be fun.

Tarken made a choking sound and Lilian laughed. “I like him,” she beamed. “He’s cute. Can we keep him?”

Marcus preened. She thought he was cute!

Upon reaching a central clearing, Tarken halted and pivoted around, planting his spear on the ground. A couple appeared to be eating an early lunch on a mat, and two young children—a girl and a boy—played with a ball of twigs and leaves.

What caught Marcus’s eye, however, was the polished stone dais in the very center. Intricate lines and patterned designs of elder magic glowed a faint blue, shimmering in the dappled sunlight. A waypoint. The village was built around a waypoint.

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“Right.” Tarken appraised Marcus skeptically. The hero smiled innocently and adjusted his white tunic collar. “Welcome to the commune. Our rules are pretty basic—provide what you can, take what you need. Don’t be an asshole. And don’t go out after dark.” He paused. “Any questions?”

Marcus tilted his head. “Why can’t I go out after dark?”

The warrior grimaced. “The nightstalker—it’s what we’ve been calling a giant spider that we think is marked. It’s made a nest nearby—it seems to stay put during the day, but after dark, well, we’ve had enough disappearances.”

Marcus nodded gravely and clasped a fist to his chest. “I will slay the nightstalker.”

Tarken stared at him blankly. “You’ll fucking die, mate.”

Marcus smiled innocently. He didn’t doubt that.

***

Once he was several minutes away from the forest encampment, Marcus placed his second spawn point. He had set his first back at the coast.

The forest trail was overgrown but still walkable. Silver and black shoots crawled up from dark earth, and brilliantly patterned insects danced through the air—an iridescent rainbow butterfly flitted past Marcus’s face. Another songbird performed a haunting, ethereal melody.

Marcus carried the spear lazily in one hand.

Tarken had grudgingly provided him with the crude, but well crafted weapon once the warrior had realized that Marcus had no intention of backing down from the quest. The stone tip was slathered in a sticky, poisonous paste—Lilian told him it came from some parasitic vine.

Maybe he’ll manage to land a hit or two before he becomes supper.

He didn’t let Tarken’s words bother him. The hero was quite used to other people’s doubt and skepticism.

He couldn’t blame them—he had entered the Wraithlands with only a single mark, after all. He could have started with six additional powerful marks, or traded them for valuable items—but instead he had given his entire stockpile to beggars and street rats before he left.

Maybe a handful of them would become heroes of their own. His only regret was that he wouldn’t be there to see the aftermath.

Turning his head in wonder, Marcus took a breath of fresh air and marveled at the forest. It was so refreshing, to get out of the city, to become reacquainted with nature…

Tripping over a thread of webbing, Marcus’s face became reacquainted with the dirt.

Standing up with a scowl, he brushed himself off. Glancing around, he noticed more threads—it seemed he was close to the monster’s lair now. Carefully stepping back over the tripwire, Marcus retreated several dozen paces before planting his third and final spawn point.

He typically placed one spawn point at a base of operations, used one dynamically in his near surroundings, and reserved one in a hidden backup location. As something here prevented him from returning to the overworld, there was no point in not using all three.

How should he proceed? With diligence and caution? With a cunning plan? With masterful preparation and graceful poise?

Or, he could rush forward with reckless abandon.

Marcus shrugged and continued forward down the narrow path. He did take a moment to activate the ‘Impending Doom’ feature of his mark—the effect would instantly kill him ten minutes after activation, and could not be canceled.

He doubted it would take that long—and he was always careful with his respawn ability. The fact that he could cheat death didn’t mean he lacked vulnerabilities.

It wasn’t long before Marcus found the spider. The density of the webs had increased dramatically, forming a tangled network between the trees. In the center of the web an enormous, black, chitinous creature sat motionless. It stared at Marcus through a multitude of beady red eyes.

Marcus narrowed his eyes and scanned the path towards the monster. Taking note of the position of each web crossing, he dashed forward.

The spider reacted as he neared, swiping out horizontally with one bladed leg. Having anticipated such an attack, Marcus dropped to the ground and slid.

The monster turned its head at the last moment, and the spear tip glanced off of its natural armor. A chip of stone flaked off.

The spider stood in an instant. In the moment before he was impaled, Marcus noticed that the underside of the creature was soft and unprotected. Aim for the belly.

Sprinting back towards the center of the nest, Marcus readjusted his grip on the spear. A fortunate feature of his mark was that it allowed him to respawn with personal items—the well-tested limit of which seemed to be formulated loosely as ‘within reason.’

Marcus had often tried to abuse it.

The spider was still standing—in the exact same spot. If anything, it looked confused—he supposed he must not behave like typical prey.

This time, he rolled to the side to avoid another horizontal swipe, before lunging to his feet with the spear aimed at the flesh just under and between its middle two legs. Instead of counterattacking, the spider sidestepped. It read his intent.

Marcus tried again, but the monster kicked him away. Backing up, he allowed the creature to advance. He expected it to press an attack against him, but instead it halted back in the center of the webbing.

Marcus grinned. A new plan formed in his mind.

Dashing forward once again—this time with completely reckless abandon, Marcus dropped and slid while aiming once more between the legs. Instead of retreating, the spider  sidestepped and delivered a powerful kick—launching Marcus back with broken ribs—but not before he had changed his spawn point.

Groaning, Marcus stabbed himself through the eye.

Waves crashed against the silty shore, and a gull cried overhead. Marcus lay in the surf, enjoying the brief moment of peace.

Sighing, he sat up, stuck the spear in the sand, and impaled himself once more.

Marcus woke up back in the forest—but not where he had originally set his spawn point on the outskirts of the lair. No, he was lying on his back in a tangle of webs—and the belly of a monster loomed over him.

Stabbing upwards with all of his strength, Marcus impaled the spider’s veiny white flesh. He was rewarded with a hiss and a spray of coppery blood.

He pushed the spear higher, and the monster sank down. The hero grinned as its legs gave up and its abdomen crushed him.

***

Marcus whistled along with the songbirds as he lugged the spider’s decapitated head down the forest trail. He had left the spear back at the nest—it was difficult enough to carry the enormous head on its own.

The kill had also earned him a second mark—though he had yet to investigate it in any detail.

Emerging from the trees, he headed straight for the gate.

As he walked towards the center of the encampment, he heard excited whispers begin to proliferate—whispers which crescendoed to cheers and cries. Upon reaching the waypoint, he halted and waited for Tarken to emerge from a nearby tent.

The warrior froze in place. His bushy brown eyebrows wriggled up and down like earthworms. “Is that—” he began, “just, how…”

Marcus dropped the head and clasped his hands behind his back. He smiled innocently. “I told you, I’m a professional.”

Lilian emerged as well, and her eyes lit up with pure excitement. She shook Tarken by the shoulders.

Marcus waited patiently for someone to say something. When no one did, he clapped his hands together and licked his lips.

“So, would anyone like to give me my next quest?”