The forest soon gave way to fields. Wheat, it turned out, and for the first time, when I plucked the ears... are they called ears... from the plants, they remained firm in my hand. Though I ended up dropping them, leaving them scattered across the ground, as I couldn't seem to open any kind of an inventory wherin to stash them. 

The wheat stocks bent and swayed in front of me - from the wind, I had immediately supposed, though as I got closer it became apparent that there was something else amiss. Small patches of wheat seemed to bend and sway, out of pace with the rest of the stocks. If I wasn't as close as I was, I felt certain I would have missed it in the fading light - but being so close to whatever it was also, I figured, implied certain disadvantages as well.

A quiet 'yipping' sounded quietly in the wind. Quiet enough that I felt certain I would have missed it, if I hadn't also been watching the stocks that bent and swayed out of tune with the rest. It sounded almost like the subdued barking of a dog that was attempting to whisper, but was excited none the less.

It occurred to me then that I was in fantasy land, and I had just met a crippled NPC less than a mile back. On the one hand, the idea put me on high alert - I was, after all, alone and weaponless in a strange land. For, I knew, if there were more than two monsters in front of me, the cooldowns on my spells would leave me in no small spot of trouble. But, on the other hand, I was, simultaniously kicking myself for not healing that random NPC back to full and pressing him for the quest to kill... whatever... it was that did that to him. 

The things that also, I had a feeling, that were less than 20 yards away - even now rustling through the fields ahead of me.

I took one careful step after another. Trying very hard to make as little sound as possible until I was, presumably, about 10 yards away. The whispered attempts at barking and yipping became more clear to my ears, and I felt confidence solely starting to build. To build I should say, before a status message appeared flickering in front of my vision. Flashing, repeatedly, in bright red letters:

Error. Stealth Skill: Not learned. 

Restricted: "Thief" affiliated skill.

ALERT

YOU HAVE BEEN SPOTTED. PREPARE FOR COMBAT.

Ya, so. Fuck me, right?

I braced myself, but nothing immediately happened. The world around me hushed to a deadly quiet - not even the wind seemed to dare making a sound in that Erie twilight. 

It was so, that the sounds of bodies brushing lightly through wheat stocks, rustling toward me, seemed loud to my ears. And I had warning enough to start belting out the lines of the first spell that had come to mind. "As my soul burns, I shall share this torment, with everyone you have ever loved..."

Beginners luck, it would seem, was actually on my side. For, just as the stocks parted in front of me, a tiny dog like face with red, bloodshot eyes climbing into view, I had reached the closing lines - with just enough time to reach out a hand toward the sudden movement. Boom.

A small spark breathed out of my fingers, flicking lightly through the air until it alighted on the beast's little snout. It wouldn't have been impressive, at all, if it hadn't all happened so very, very fast.

The creatures face, I could see clearly now, was mis-aligned. Dog-like, but walking upright on its hind legs. Fingers reached out for me, not with the boney grasping motion of joints, but with the boneless wrapping motion of tentacles twisting and curling against the cool air. 

But that was all I had time to take in before sickening dark red flames consumed the creatures face. In what seemed like an instant, the creatures furry skin seemed to blister and char, his eyes widening for an instant, in pain, before the fluid splattered across the quietly burning flames. Leaving little more than bloody, boiling shells where the creatures eyes had been.

Small little letters flashed next to the creatures face, flickering demonically next to the quietly burning flames:

Critical Hit on Kobold. 3x damage. Crippled: Blind Status. Burning Status.

It would have been a lot more exciting, gratifying even, if it wasn't so bloody horrific. The flame continued to eat away at the creature's face, soft glowing embers flickering from a charcoal brisket that used to be living skin. A ruined mess of seepage and flame spilling down the neck and check of the dying little dog-thing. Kobold. Whatever.

It whimpered pathetically. And, despite its monstrous features, was several orders of magnitude more pitiable than the man I had passed not that long ago. Moreso, for the fact that the sound reminded me of nothing so much as the whimpers of an abused and dying puppy. 

I was so entranced in the horror of flesh, what used to be a living face, that I was almost caught flat-footed as the second creature barreled out of the wheat. Its eyes were filled with rage and horror. Desperation. That spoke to something deep inside of me and echoed incriminating thoughts into my guilty soul.

I backed away quickly, muttering halfheartedly my second spell. I barely even heard the words coming out of my own mouth. I guess that was the shock. And my hands were shaking in the dying light. 

So much so that I almost missed entirely. My hand dipping low just as the spell went off. This time, though, it wasn't an ember. If anything it was, perhaps, a breath of the coldest air I had ever felt, leaving frost and puffs of frozen air in it's wake as it breathed toward the second creature.

My spell hit low. I could see the frost enveloping the creature's thigh. Frosting. Freezing. And spreading oh, so quickly. Soon enough it had spread down both the creatures legs. Leaving frost covered, white flakes across its fur as the creature fell, helpless, in front of me. It's little sword falling from its fingers as its face met dirt and rock - the naked blade tumbling into the ground at my feet.

Again, the creature made the most horrific, pathetic sounds I could imagine. Even as it crawled its way toward me, staring at me, eyes filled with the most profound hate and rage I had ever seen. It was heartbreaking. So much so that if you could die from guilt and shame, I feel like I would have. Right then and there.

But that was it. I was out of spells, in a strange land that was said to be a literal hellscape. And I knew in the back of my mind that if any more of these creatures were coming, my life expectancy too would be measured in heartbeats. So I quickly choked down my own desperate sobs, and reached out to pick up the creature's fallen short sword.

It took three stabs before the blade managed to clear the creatures skull - sinking deep into it's soft brain tissue. With a sickening, slurping sound, the sword finally gave and I felt the resistance fall away to the insistant thrust of the metal.

The second creature went down in two. The still flickering flames, presumably, having already eaten their way into the creature's bony head.

It was quick, but it felt like it took much, much longer. My mind painfully aware of every move that I made. The weight of the sword. The way my fingers curled around it's hilt. The thunk as the blade met the hard shells of bone and meat.

When the eventual status update flashed across my vision, I could manage nothing but a manic chuckle. A hideous little laugh at the irony and horror, mixing unpleasantly with the taste of bile on my lips:

Error. Light Blade Skill: Not learned. 

Restricted: "Thief" affiliated skill.

And even still, I heard the rustling coming, again, towards me. Louder and louder to my anxious ears. And, in desperation, I used the only semi-offensive spell that I had left. My buff.

"By the Kith of the King of this world," I breathed. Swallowing back a quiet sob and, disturbingly, the desire, also, to laugh. "By the shackles around my spirit, bequeath the power of your hate, upon us, your chosen champions."

And then... I felt it. This was not the heat of flame nor the chill of frozen winds. This was... something far, far more insidious. Inside my belly, it felt like I was freezing up. The bile fading from my tongue. My mind soothed and quieted by the rising touch of the magic. It felt cool, cold. Almost chaotic, perhaps. But it was more than that.

It echoed through my body and, after a moment, I found that I had a label for the emotion inside of me. For, with the spell, I felt profound, very real hate. Rising against the tide of tears and fear and despair. 

And so I hated. It seemed to lash out, in a cold, chillingly rational tide. Echoing from my belly, through my chest, into each of my limbs. I hated... myself. I hated these pathetic fields of corn. I hated the pathetic dead creatures that lay cooling in front of me. And for all the world, I felt only the single, solitary thing. 

The undeniable, seemingly reasonable desire to degrade or stamp out any and all life in front of me.

And that was when the third kobald scampered quickly into view.

I remember every motion of my hand, every smell and every taste from the fight that beset me. But it is not a memory that I would here revel in. No, even now, oddly, the thing the burned most clearly into my mind where the endless lines of error text that flashed and flashed and flashed.

Error. Light Blade Skill: Not learned. 

Restricted: "Thief" affiliated skill.

Error. Unarmed Skill: Not learned. 

Restricted: "Berserk" affiliated skill.

Error. Bite Skill: Not learned. 

Restricted: "Beastmaster" affiliated skill.

Error. Consume Living Flesh Skill: Not learned. 

Restricted: "Necromancer" affiliated skill.

Skill Increase! Witchcraft +1

Skill learned! Interrogate +1 (Charisma)(Intelligence)

Increases the chance of learning information from captured opponents. In combat: +1 damage done on helpless or prone creatures per level.

Eventually, I brought the new emotion under control. I stood over the helpless Kobold, realizing that I had been alternatively healing and stabbing the poor creature over and over and over.

In front of me was a gory mess of guts and blood and flesh. And the smell of burning skin was so overpowering, I felt like I wouldn't be able to smell another thing if I lived to be a thousand years old. But, still, gone was the mania and the panic. The fear that had set in, I rationalized, when the first Kobold had gone down - when it had first occurred to me on a deep and primal level the simple, unassailable truth.

This was not a game. This was actually, deadly, real.  And I had just killed living, breathing things.

There was a layer over the knowledge, though, that kept it at arms length. That kept it manageable. And I sent a quiet... prayer... of thanks to my benefactor for including that final, humble spell. Belial's Hate.

I knew, deeply, then that, if not for the profound, magical hate stirring and rippling inside of me, I would not have been able to continue on beyond that day. Beyond that little clearing in the wheat where lay the bodies of three... almost cute... dog creatures.

Their bodies turned out to be holding coin purses, with a couple of copper each. I quickly consolidated them into a single pouch and strapped it's belt around my own waist. Two of their swords had scabbards, so I went ahead and slung them over my shoulder while keeping the third shortsword in hand. 

Even without a proficiency, the bare steel seemed to do plenty enough damage for now. And I somehow felt better with the cold blade resting in my palm. 

Almost as an afterthought, I reach down and clipped off each of the creatures ears. This world may have been real, I had finally accepted this, down in the deepest crevices of my mind. But the world seemed to have RPG like features. And, if nothing else, I hoped that my experience with the games would be enough to keep me alive for the time being. An RPG experience that told me things like, for example, kobold ears, could sometimes be turned in for a reward in towns. 

Skill increase! Scavenging +1

Yuck. It struck me then that I had possibly just collected alchemy or spell components for... who knows what exactly? I had a short vision of the future - myself, a necklace of ears around my neck, casually ripping off a pair and flinging them at monsters in the form of fireballs and lightning bolts.

But... they had warned me that this was hell. And I was a witch, after all. So disturbing as it seemed, I found that the idea didn't shock me quite as much as I had felt that it should. And, likewise, I took my leave of the corpses to wander quietly (Well, not that quietly, as my failure at learning any stealth skills could sullenly protest) towards the rising smokestacks of the awaiting village.

And yes, I double checked my ears. Which had remained quietly, thankfully, round.