As a bright light takes us and we’re whisked away to a world unknown, I’m consumed by the idea that I have made a huge mistake.

It’s good to start out an adventure with some group synergy. You know, coming together, leveraging our strengths, working as a cohesive team, harnessing the idea that the whole is greater than the sum of its parts, and so on and so on. What I’m saying is that, for as corporate as that shocking Meet & Greet was, they could have at least offered a stupid team building retreat.

It could be worse, I suppose. We’re not exactly the combative ragtag team from the movies. Our success isn’t hinging on Nick Fury bringing us together with an emotional speech.

But it could also be better. And that’s not a thought you want to have when the person beside you is wielding a double-headed battleaxe.

After a moment, the light fades. We’re no longer in Pharos.

We’re also - according to my thin grasp on geography - not in Brazil either.

1.

Title(s) Earned:

First Time Traveler: Reach a new region.

Reward: Hiking +1

2.

Skill Proficiency Increased:

Hiking 3

As my eyes adjust, I’m met with a dreary gray sky laden with heavy, tumultuous clouds. It smells peaty and wet. In front of me is a coast of rock and sand, followed by a flat misty field. There’s nothing else in sight. Whatever’s lurking out there is buried in fog.

Murky water sloshes over my feet. We’re standing on another portal disc which the assholes placed about five feet off the shore. I assume we’re still on a floating rock somewhere, but who knows what our hominid ancestors did to make this whole thing work. Looking out across the sea, I don’t see any evidence of a jagged edge, no telltale signs of the world ending in freefalling oblivion.

The damp air hangs like a soaked rag. A string of text appears before me.

BRASIL, 1466 CE

Known as Brasil, Hy-Brasil or the Enchanted Island, this mysterious isle lingers off of the west coast of Ireland. According to legend, the isle only appears once every seven years. According to history, the island is simply a cartography error. Delve into the mythos of the Irish and return safely before your time is up.

There are (3) parties in this region. This region is now closed to further visitation until decay.

Oh good. Ireland. Their folklore isn’t terrifying at all.

Beside me, Elias glares at his niece. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

“Someone had to do something!” Luci snaps. “You were just standing there.”

“It should have been a mutual decision.”

“So now you’re not the leader?”

“Why are you acting like this?”

“Hey, we’re here now,” I interrupt. “Let’s make the best of it, okay?”

“Yeah, let’s,” Luci huffs. She tugs at the leather bow sheath sashed across her chest. “So what does it mean by 1466? Are we in the past?”

“I don’t think so,” I answer. “I think if they could do that, they’d do it to save the planet, not chop it into pieces. Although, with them, who knows.”

Elias nods. “I believe it’s only an aesthetic.”

“Weird.” Luci takes a running leap and soars five feet across the water and onto the wet sand. She makes the jump look easy. Maybe a skill she picked up from dancing?

Peering skeptically at the water, Elias carefully removes his shoes and socks. Meanwhile, Ron splashes into the rippling sea, wading gracelessly up the beach, his gittern bouncing on his back.

Finally, I follow Elias’ lead. It feels like overkill, but starting out an adventure with sopping wet socks seems like a bad idea too.

Skill Proficiency Increased:

Jumping 2

Luci marches up the beach and onto the grassy bank. Hands on her hips, she surveys the misty field. “This is really gross. I feel wet.”

“Alright dudes, what are we doing?” asks Ron, plopping onto the ground. He rips off a boot and pours out the water.

Mentally, I try to open the map, but it’s blank. The quest log is equally empty. We have absolutely nothing to go on. “Onward and upward, I guess.”

Luci shivers. “You think there are monsters in there?”

“Probably. The description didn’t say anything about a timeframe, did it? The orientation just said we have maybe a week. Could be more, could be less.”

Elias perches on a rock to lace up his shoes. “I wager it requires at least five days to traverse 100 miles in a straight line. Far more if we want to cover the region as a whole. With the number of dungeons and quests they’ve mentioned, they wouldn’t be so unfair as to give us less.”

“Wouldn’t they?” I scoff.

“Whatever the case may be, we need to get our bearings and find a place to eat and rest. It was said there was a town. We should locate that first.”

“Solid plan. So… time to meander through the mists?”

Ron leans back, baring his flabby stomach to the sky, as he jams his boots back onto his feet like a toddler. Then he rolls upright and points. “How ‘bout we ask that guy where it is?”

Down the beach, where the shore curves, stands a rotting pier. The mossy brown of the wood blends easily into the earthy tones of the sand and rock. There’s a stocky hooded figure, equally drab, knotting a rowboat to the dock. At his feet are a net full of flopping half-dead fish and a small leather pack. On his belt is an axe.

Elias yanks at his cross-sheath, snapping the battleaxe from his back free. “He looks dangerous.”

“Tío," Luci scoffs. "He’s a fisherman.”

“He’s armed.”

“You’re armed.”

I eye the stranger until my head is hit with a familiar tingle.

Fithcheallach - Fisherman (Lv 1)

“Guys, he’s a Level 1. He’s fine.”

Ron leaps to his feet. “I’m gonna talk to him.”

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

“We need to be cautious,” says Elias as Ron saunters down the shore.

“Unless he’s packing Level 10 fish, I think we’re okay,” I say.

Without waiting for an answer, I follow. Patience has never been my strong suit, and if we debate every single minutia of this adventure, we’ll be swallowed by the region’s decay before we have a chance to do a single quest. Plus we can’t treat everyone we meet as a threat. Saying that, I pat the daggers strapped to my thigh, just to make sure they’re there.

“Hey, my man!” shouts Ron, giving a hearty wave.

The stranger drops the rope and spins around, hand on his axe. When he spots Ron, his shoulders relax, though his hand remains poised. He removes his hood, revealing a bearded chin and mottled red cheeks.

“Greetings and bless ye,” he says in a thick Irish accent. “Ye a forraigner? I ner seen yer sort nor a vessel be. By which way have ye come hither an’ happened upon an iland so fareth att sea, for the great fog, as God blesses, keeps concealed the sight of O-Brazile by way of sorcery and magick most foul.”

Ron’s jaw drops. “I do not speak that language, man.”

“Oh yeah, this doesn’t work for us at all,” I say. “Hold on.”

As the man continues to speak, I bring up the menu and, with a thought, move over to settings.

Settings

[Time]

[Language]

[Notifications]

[Accessibility]

Okay, language. Let’s see.

Language

Party: Standardized American English (exceptions: Mexican Spanish)

NPCs: Local vernacular [Change]

I flick the language over to English. Just for that, I get a series of notifications.

1.

Title(s) Earned:

Game Changer: Adjust the settings while inside of an in-game region.

Reward: Observation +1

2.

New Skill Unlocked!

Observation

You can now recognize and analyze the details of your surroundings. Improve this skill to more critically assess your environment in order to increase your chances of success in combat, exploration, or conversation.

“Hey guys, use the settings to change your NPC language.”

“We’re looking for a town,” says Ron. “A town.”

“Aye, and perchance ye be an illusion of the-” Something hitches in the man’s voice. “-shitstain in the tower, then I’d be responsible for killin' half of the isle.”

"An illusion?” says Luci, coming up beside me. Elias hovers protectively nearby. “Are those normal around here?”

“Assuming you’re not an illusion yourself, yes. If it isn’t the fair folk,” he says, breaking for a moment to make the sign of the cross over his chest, “then it’s the sorcerer who lives in the tower west of Glasbaile. He has quite a lot of followers, half of 'em illusions, and all of 'em tricksters. You can never be too sure.”

“And this sorcerer, he’s the one responsible for the mist?” I ask.

“Hmm. However, once you’re more inland, it will fade. But beware. It has a particular touch as of late.”

Ron grins. “Well, that’s alright then, man! We’ll fight through the fog, find a road, and head on down to town. Some magical island can’t be that big, right?”

“It’d be easier if we knew which direction,” I say.

“Sorry, lass. Until I know you’re not a sorcerer’s trick, I can’t help you.”

“Just to be clear. The sorcerer who’s lived here since you were a kid doesn’t know where the town is?”

The fisherman smirks. “It moves.”

“Oh. Great.”

“It is pretty sweet,” Ron comments.

“Look, we’re not illusions,” I say. “We need to find this town. There has to be a way to convince you.”

“Tell you what,” the man replies. “I have a potion in my pack that will dispel whatever enchantment you have on you. Take that, and I’ll happily tell you where Glasbaile is.”

Ron reaches out. “Sounds fair.”

I smack his hand down. “Jesus, Ron, we’re not drinking anything. Luci, you should try asking.”

“Me? Why me?”

“Your charm?” I whisper. “It’s supposed to make NPCs amenable. Friendly.”

“Oh, I knew that,” she says. Then she pauses. “Do you think that would work?"

"Absolutely.”

"Yeah. Alright, cool, I got this then.” She smiles at the fisherman. “Um. Hi there. I'm Luci. What’s your name?”

“Fithcheallach.”

“Seriously? Wow. Anyway, so we just got here, and we need to find the town. So we can do quests and stuff.” She glances at me. I motion for her to go on. “Actually, we could be pretty helpful. We can fight monsters. If you have monsters. Do you have monsters?”

The man raises an eyebrow. “You say you’re monster hunters? I’ve ne'er seen monster hunters that look like you before.”

“That’s because we’re awesome?”

“Are you askin' me?”

“No? No. We’re awesome.” She swallows. “We can fight. I promise.”

“If you say so. Why don’t you come back to…”

The man’s eyes trail over to Elias’ exposed prosthetic. His face pales.

“Magic! Changeling!” he screams. Flailing, he trips over the end of the pier and kicks up spits of sand as he flees down the beach and into the fog. In seconds, the man is gone.

Mist rolls across the field.

Luci crosses her arms. “Tío!” she groans accusingly.

His face reddens.

“Eh, it could’ve gone worse.” I grab the man’s pack. It reeks of fish.

1.

Title(s) Earned:

Riotous: Collect loot dropped from an enemy or NPC.

Reward: Observation +1

2.

Skill Proficiency Increased:

Observation 2 (+3 Resolve Bonus)

“Hey, our first loot.” With a pull of a leather string, I open the bag and upend its contents onto the pier. A folded piece of parchment, a pair of bottles, a waterskin, and two pears tumble free. Luci snatches one of the pears as it rolls toward the edge.

I unfold the parchment first. In thick, near-unintelligible cursive, it reads:

Dear Lord Cathal of Glasbaile,

The fog is thinning o'er the shore. The mad wizard has moved it inland. If you choose to strike, the men of the southlands are with you.

Your servant,

Fithcheallach

New Quest! COURIER OF THE ISLE

A fisherman has written a letter to an individual named Lord Cathal. Because you intercepted the letter, it will no longer reach the Lord of Glasbaile without further intervention. Return the letter to the fisherman or hand-deliver the news to Lord Cathal yourself.

Objectives:

- Gain entry into town: In Progress

- Return or deliver the letter: In Progress

Rewards: XP

You have obtained a quest. This quest is no longer available to other parties. (7) quests remain.

“Well at least we got a quest. Woo!” Luci cheers.

Stashing the letter in the pack, I reach for the bottles. They’re both round and closed with a small cork. One of them is filled with a viscous red solution. In the other fizzes thin purple liquid. “A dispel potion and… something else?”

“Give them here," says Elias. He holds the red potion up to his eyes. “This is a Lesser Health Draught.”

“Really? I didn’t see a label.”

“It’s my Skeptic bonus. It allows me to identify items, so long as they’re common or uncommon.”

“Awesome. I think you can put system items in your inventory. You should probably take it.”

The potion vanishes from his hand. He holds up the second, the purple liquid bubbling with every move. “This isn’t a dispel potion. It’s a Lesser Sleep Draught. It has five portions, so you’re likely only meant to drink a few sips. He intended to incapacitate us.”

“What a loser!” Luci pouts.

With a shrug, Elias hands back the potion. “As I said, he seemed fishy.”

She sighs. “Tío, no. No puns.”

The potion disappears into my inventory.

Inventory item added: (1) Lesser Sleep Draught

“Welp,” I say. “We have two potions, two pears, a weird letter, and we now know there’s an evil sorcerer in a tower which definitely sounds like a visa extension-worthy quest. I say we did okay for our first encounter.”

“Yeah, like, real silver-lining okay,” says Luci.

“Oh, don’t make me the optimist here. It will not go well.”

Elias surveys the mist. “We should move. If I were him, I’d come back with others.”

“Hey, we should go after him,” says Luci. “I mean, if he’s going somewhere with people, maybe he’s going to the town.”

“Good idea, Luce,” I reply.

“And someone needs to tell him he sucks,” she adds. She picks up the leather pack, then wrinkles her nose. “Ew, it smells.” When Elias moves to reply, she cuts him off. “And don’t you say it’s because it’s fishy. No more puns!”

A smile creeps into Elias’ eyes as he reaches for the bag. He swings it over his shoulder as he hikes up the embankment toward the fog.

“You know, I almost won a pun contest once,” I say as I follow. “I entered ten submissions, hoping to win. But no pun in ten did.”

“You too?” Luci moans. “You guys are so old.”

Elias smirks. “Age is just a number.”

“Seriously?!”