The cool night air seemed to pierce to Paul's bones, the sudden change from the small, air-conditioned room to a dark, mysterious forest shocking his entire body. His eyes had not yet adjusted to the abrupt change in light either, so all he could see well was Verity, still bathed lightly in blue light. Panic setting in, he swiveled his head, trying to take in whatever had just happened to him. Too many new and impossible sounds came from all around, and he struggled to make sense of anything. Grass rustling, boots stomping, swords being unsheathed, and the people all around him barking orders in hushed voices.

Nothing made sense. A few moments prior, Paul had been in a back room of a run-down game shop eight blocks from his apartment. He looked down at the weight in his hands and remembered the sword someone had thrust into his arms. This is a real sword! Who are these people? Paul dropped the sword as he scrambled to understand. Feeling the entire world spin around him, Paul sank to his knees in the grass as his legs gave out underneath him. A babble of incoherent denials streamed out of his mouth as he stared blankly at the grass that should have been an aging tile floor.

A hand gently touched Paul's shoulder, causing him to lose what little balance he had and topple to his side on the damp ground. Verity crouched beside him and held the short sword up between them.

"Paul, I believe I was quite clear that you must hold onto this sword. There are werewolves out tonight, and this sword is made of silver." Verity smoothly reminded him.

Clumsily picking himself up off the forest floor, Paul managed real words finally, "What does that mean? Who are you people? What am I doing here?"

Verity sighed, placing the sword back into Paul's outstretched and pleading hands, "Surely even in your world there are legends of werewolves and the power of silver to slay them, are there not? Stay with me, we must move before they descend upon us." She began to perform a pattern with her hands again, this time forming a ball of light in one hand, and a scimitar made of light in the other. She moved away from Paul without another word, but he thought he heard her faintly whisper, "I hope I've not made a mistake."

The rest of what Paul had moments ago thought was a LARP party began to follow Verity's lead as she moved to the edge of the clearing. Remembering what she had said about staying near her, Paul trotted to keep up. As he took a place near her in the march through the forest, he saw her smile thinly seeing him. All around him, spread out strategically through the trees, the others they had come here with kept pace with Verity as well, their heads darting back and forth, looking for the sources of those ghoulish howls. Paul saw the grey-feathered birdman who had handed him the silver sword nearby and tried to catch his attention.

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"Hi, um, I'm sorry, I didn't get your name before. Can you tell me what exactly is going on?" Paul tried to shout in a whisper where Verity wouldn't hear.

Again an unusual and bird-like voice cooed from the beak of the parrot-like individual, "Name's Lariat. It's your first time, don't worry. We all felt like that the first time we crossed over too. You'll get your footing soon, just don't drop your weapon."

Paul blinked at his answer, "Wait, so is this all really happening?"

Lariat cackled joyfully, "Well of course this is real, what did you expect—"

The rest of what Lariat was going to say was cut off as a monstrous figure lept from the deep shadows of the forest, pinning the avian companion to the ground. A shaggy, muscular arm raised, showing jagged claws. Paul was frozen to the spot, horror replacing confusion. His throat tried to scream, but it was suddenly dry as a bone, and no sound came. He felt himself being pushed to the side as other adventurers rushed forward to help their friend. Verity was suddenly at his side, shouting orders to form a perimeter and watch the trees. Floating balls of light lifted overhead from several of the other mages — or whatever they really are, Paul thought.

A gleaming blade struck up through the back werewolf that had pounced on Lariat, and the feathery man scrambled out from underneath the dead hulk. Paul noticed several gashes along the front of Lariat's leather armor, but otherwise, he seemed to be unharmed. There was little time to celebrate though, as more of the beasts leaped from the shadows around them. Paul could smell their stench now, and if his entire throat hadn't already closed up in fear, he likely would have thrown up on the spot.

"Paul, sword up!" Verity shouted at him, "Raise your sword!"

Paul thought he felt himself raise the sword in front of him, but he was barely registering any of the commotion around him. It had all blurred into a continuous hum of chaos and violence. Hairy, snarling shadows swung razor-sharp claws and dashed around their group, and swords, flails, and spells were whipped around in response. Verity twirled around him like a dancer, flinging beams of light out of her left hand while cutting patterns of blood-red carnage with the light-sword in her right. At one point, Paul felt himself swinging wildly at the 10-foot-tall monstrosities, although he had no idea if he even made contact with anything other than air. He thought he saw many of the werewolves fall to the adventurers' attacks, but he was also vaguely aware that at least one had escaped into the night.

Finally, after what could have been either hours or minutes, the werewolves were all either dead or gone. Paul's hands began to tremble as he felt the adrenaline rush fade, and for the first time, he felt the physical weight of both the glittering sword and the heavy armor he had donned. He felt his knees try to give way, but Verity steadied him and gave him a reassuring grin. Grime and blood clung to her braided hair, but her smile radiated and warmed him in spite of the terror he felt reaching for him.

The relative silence was broken as Lariat approached Verity and shook his head grimly, "One got away, and it took Tomas."

"The hunt continues," Verity spoke solemnly, "And it seems as if the Shadow King now draws us to himself."

Verity began helping her companions up, and the march through the forest took on an urgent pace