Traveling through the afternoon and into the dregs of the day’s end, Ike and I moved out of the city and into the hills, following the traces that the rest of the party had left for us. When we came upon the campsite, it was to a rather picturesque sight. My new companions were settled by a trickling brook, its gentle burble mixing with the campfire's youthful crackling and the occasional whisper of leaves.

Brandosyeus was there, his fingers moving gracefully, plucking a somber melody from his lute. Jon was stamping flat some ground on which to lie the night, and Schustak was deep in a trance-like state, tendrils of phantom vines wrapping themselves thoroughly around his arms, legs and torso.

Schustak. I narrowed my eyes, though he showed no indication of malicious intent.

“Ryan!” Jon shouted, looking up and seeing the two of them arrive. “Ike! How good of you to join us!”

Ike growled. “You wouldn’t be happy if I were an owlbear. What happened to camp discipline?”

“Right behind you,” whispered Kevinar, stepping from the shadows, his wicked blade winking in the setting sun’s light. “Been following you for a while.”

Ike chuckled. “Good. Thought for a moment you’d all lost your rat-infested minds! I see you found Schustak.”

Brandosyeus stopped his song and glanced over. “Hey! So we have!”

Kevinar, meanwhile, circled my flank, his eyes rolling over the new suit of armor that adorned my body. “Fascinating. That is a powerful outfit for a beginner. By what means are you wearing it?”

I opened my mouth to answer, to tell them what Jeldorain had told me about this body and its ability to wield and wear without any level limits. But a wave of suspicion shuddered through my body, sluicing slush through my veins. Mouth agape, I faked a sneeze, then shrugged.

Kevinar’s eyes narrowed a moment, then he shrugged as well. “It suits you. You look like an ice giant dressed for dragon hunting. I bet with that outfit you could storm a castle all on your own.”

I chuckled, hoping it didn’t sound forced. “It’s always good to be ready for both, I’d say.”

Ike clapped me on the back. “That’s the spirit. Alright everybody, Ryan has been asking some questions and I would like to give him some answers. He’s a little suspicious of the warm reception we’ve given him, and rightfully so.”

The campfire’s glow danced over their gathered faces, casting shadows that accentuated every angle. They were smiling, I saw. Well Jon was anyways. And the rest certainly didn’t look like menacing conspirators over some great evil plan..

“Why?” I began, my voice slightly quivering with uncertainty. “Why such a warm reception for someone you barely know?”

The fire crackled in response, and the night's noises seemed to hush in anticipation. Jon, perhaps because of the drunken comradery of the previous night, was the first to break the silence.

“Why not?” he grinned. “We’re all in this together, right? A bond forged in adventure.”

Ike smiled, his wicked teeth like little scimitars, shaded blood-red by the growing flame of the campfire. “We’ve been on many quests, faced countless dangers. One learns to quickly judge character. You seem…trustworthy.”

Kevinar snorted, taking a seat on a large stone seemingly made by the gods above exactly for that purpose. “You’re big and supposedly tough. It was the same with me when I came up from down below. They gave me a bunch of stuff and it got me to stick around. They are taming you.”

I bristled and he smirked, white teeth juxtaposing against ebony skin.

“Ryan,” he continued, “there is nothing wrong with being tamed. Have you ever seen a house cat? One of those furry little tiger beasts some of the townsfolk keep in their homes and feed from their own larder? None of them is wanting for anything, so great is their comfort. It’s good to be tamed. Just remember, make them work for it. It’ll land you more stuff.”

The whole group snickered. All but Schustak, who sat quietly, his eyes shadowed and unreadable. Schustak’s earlier trance with the phantom vines was still fresh in my memory. The goblin man felt alien and distant. Like a hyena lurking just at the edge of a torch’s light, waiting for it to end before rushing in to strike.

Trust no one completely, Jeldorain whispered and I froze, the arctic breeze of his presence slipping back into my mind. The barrier was still in place, I could feel it as concretely as I could feel the armor on my body. Yet he was here, unbarred, moving as freely as when we’d first met. I could barely hear the jovial banter, the murmurs of agreement over Kevinar’s latest words of wisdom as fear seized my heart, dimming all other senses and refocusing them onto my interior.

How? I managed to fire back, nodding and smiling without seeing or feeling, hoping that I was keeping up a presence that wouldn’t invite suspicion.

I have my tricks, oh great champion. Listen, I was behaving and staying behind your little wall, giving you your space, because the way I see it we’re in big trouble here. We’ll talk about it later, when we’re alone. Talk it through with everyone, get them sleepy, then let’s chat.

I blinked my eyes, pushed to reality as Brandosyeus, who had been quietly strumming his lute, set it aside. “We’ve all had our fair share of mysteries and pasts we’d rather not delve into. But together, as a group, we've found strength. Perhaps we see in you another piece of that puzzle.”

I took a deep breath, every fiber of my borrowed being on alert. I saw soft and kind eyes, Jeldorain’s words imprinted over each of them in some devilish trick. Trust No One. I nodded, confidently, the entire thing an act for this crew since my confidence in myself in this world had just proven entirely unjustified. “Thank you for your faith in me. But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t… hesitant. There's a lot I don't understand.”

The group exchanged knowing glances. Some secrets were universal, shared silently between gamers and adventurers alike. But for me, the largest secret was the presence within, an infernal named Jeldorain, who had suddenly proven much more powerful than he had seemed. And possibly, nestled with even that secret, was one so powerful that it had Jeldorain spooked.

The rest of the night was spent murmuring small talk. I feigned great tiredness quickly, play-acting the effects of last night’s drink on tonight’s energy. Then I laid there, listening, as Kevinar and Schustak wandered off to take watch, and the others slowed their breathing, Jon breaking into a whinny-like snore.

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Jeldorain? You wanted to talk? I lowered the barrier, since it seemed to do no good anyways. Through the opened gap Jeldorain’s essence flowed and I could see him as he saw himself, standing before my mind’s eye as the mighty blue-skinned and thick veined infernal knee deep in the icy waters of his domain.

My, if it isn’t the great and noble Ryan, great champion of the Goblin Empire. Have you come for a visit?

In my vision he bowed, his smirk arrogant yet worried.

What is it that has you so worked up, Jeldorain? What are you worried about? Fear rode my words, and I could feel him sucking it off them like a man licking chicken grease from his fingers.

The goblin. I think he holds them all in thrall. I think, with his magic, he owns this party. And that he came to get you, to get us! The battle was staged, the rescuing false. This is our training, and when we complete it, we will be back in chains, our liberty rotted from our frames until it is no more.

I opened my eyes, searching the shadowy camp site for a glimpse of the goblin. Surely he should have been back from his guard duty? A faint whisper tickled my ear.

“Get up and arm yourself Ryan. We have company,” Kevinar murmured before slipping shadow-like to our next nearest companion. I listened closely, equipping my arms and armor. Sure enough, the muffled sounds of approaching footfalls was growing clearer, accompanied by the guttural murmurs of voices, unfamiliar and threatening.

”It is a tribe of wild orcs,” whispered Kevinar, the rest of the party now awake and already geared up for battle. Brandosyeus quietly began to hum, the melody vibrating with a subtle cloying energy that indicated bardic magic was being prepared.

“Stay down and ready,” Ike commanded, his voice growing a bit shrill and whiny at this unnaturally low volume. They’ll attempt to kill us in our sleep, like as not.”

On his last syllable they burst into the campsite, their intentions evident in their drawn weapons and hostile demeanor.

And as one we leapt to meet them, sharpened blades at the ready. I felt the raw, untamed power of Jeldorain coursing through my veins, high-pressure slush sluicing through veins of iced flesh as I whipped my Freezing Kusarigama through the air. The orc I faced had just enough time for his eyes to widen before his head went flying through the air. Beside me, another orc simply dropped, his dead eyes confused about the dagger buried hilt deep in its spine.

Kevinar, I thought, my admiration for the silent fighter growing.

An orc swatted at me with his ax and the stone head of it cracked on impact with the plate of my armor. As he gawked I lassoed my icearigama through the air, flinging it past him and into a knot of three fighters behind him. Simultaneously I activated my Whirlwind Attacks, feeling the 20 stamina points leave my being. With its ax blades now spinning like a helicopter’s rotor, their wicked edge ground through hide and flesh, spitting gore in all directions.

“Gross,” Brandosyeus cursed loudly, a patch of orcish flank now hanging from the edge of his panpipes. Backing away, I saw the brief image of cracked musical notes, a sure sign that whatever spell he had been crafting had been disrupted by my attack.

Yanking my icearigama back, I struck the orc in front of me, cutting meat from his shoulder and causing him to bellow in rage. Something flashed through my mind, a blazing notification, and I saw something I hadn’t encountered before. In my scrolling mental slate, a series of notifications documented the battle thus far.

Critical Hit!

Critical Hit!

Combo Activated!

Feeling a rush of power, my next attacks came faster, each blow multiplying in strength. Despite the orcs now being on the defensive, I saw that their numbers were somehow larger than I’d first thought. From out of the woods came more and more of the tribesmen, snarling and waving primitive weapons in their fists.

Inside me Jeldorain grinned, and I mimicked him, a small gout of frost escaping from my nostrils.

Charging into this oncoming knot of warriors, I lashed out, cracking open the chest of one and de-legging another, before getting stabbed in the arm by a snarling tattooed youngling whose pride and glory shined through his ecstatically smug face. With the drop in hit points came another notification.

Combo Deactivated.

Snarling, I used the Disarm ability, spending 10 Stamina Points as I wrapped the weapon and pulled it from his grasp. His long spear clattered to the ground, and he looked up just in time to receive a crushing blow from my fist.

To my left, I heard the sound of hooves and Jon rode by wielding a shining lance, spearing another two orcs from the oncoming horde. He spared me not a glance, his usually bare chest and head now armored over in brass plate and chain.

A sharp pain in my ankle brought me about, and I cursed losing focus in the middle of battle. The orc youth and slashed me long and deep with an obsidian dagger, and now he was running back into the woods from which he had come.

Jeldorain reared inside of me.

Catch him! End him! The flesh of his body shall be our vengeance.

Gritting my teeth, I resisted, turning away from the now retreating relief force to focus on what was left of the original attackers.

In the center of our camp, floating about the remains of our campfire, an orc stared straight forward, his eyes blazing a swirling green the color of pine. Scars crisscrossed his mostly naked body—some old and faded, others fresh and blood red. Atop his head, he wore a headdress made from the antlers of a great stag, intertwined with fresh flowers and twigs, and around his waist clinked a leather belt filled with bone figurines, and it was from here that he cast his spells, as I found out when he threw one of the fingers at my feet.

It exploded, knocking me onto my back, while also summoning a great puma. The beast growled, its teeth hungry for blood.

I chuckled. It would be in for a hells of a surprise if it got through my jugular. Standing, I noted that the beast’s master had a small patch of scorch on his body, and I remembered the damage reflection properties of my aegis. Holding it aloft, I stared at the puma and bared my teeth.

It leapt. And I swung sideways, swiping my icearigama in a left-to-right arc as I did so. The glowing blade of its ax tips filleted the great cat snout to tail, the corpse squelching as it fell to the forest floor.

Jeldorain laughed heartily. I could feel his excitement rolling through me in waves.

“Is that all you’ve got?” I asked.

It may have been new in this place, though, because the shaman’s eyes cleared, reverting to their natural amber state, and glaring at me under arched eyebrows.

“You dare challenge he of the Five Oaks?” the orc muttered in a surprisingly urbane English accent. “Your death will be both fulfilling and final.”

I made a quick sitrep of the battle, noting where everyone was and what clusters of orcs they were fighting. Other than this shaman, not a one of the fighters seemed particularly powerful, and I realized that his absence would almost definitely end the battle.

Taking a step into his direction, I raised my weapon—and then howled in pain, a sudden wall of sharp, pointed thorns and brambles rising between myself and my target, skinning my toes in their push up from the mulchy forest floor.

Nearby, the shaman focused his attention on me, recognizing the threat I posed. Another spell cast, this time sending a barrage of magical thorns. But Jeldorain's protection kicked in, reducing 45% of the spell's damage. I felt the sting but was far from incapacitated.

I tore through them, swinging left and right into the orcish knot ahead of me. The orcs were on the defensive, their numbers dwindling quickly.

However, the shaman wasn't done. He began a complex incantation, and the very ground beneath me started to shift. Roots erupted, attempting to bind me in place. With a Swing, I latched onto an overhead branch, expending 5 Stamina Points and swung over the roots in a wide arc, landing directly in front of the startled shaman.

His eyes glowed with malice.

“The forest calls for your blood,” he growled, a sharped staff of young, green wood rising from the ground into his grasp.

“Tell the forest that I’m not available,” I returned, striking forward in an overhead arc. The ax-heads raked shriekingly over a shield of blue shimmering energy that faded as I dragged them back. His eyes narrowed, and in one impossible movement his sharpened staff was in his arc, flying through the air at the center of my body. Dropping to the ground and avoiding the weapon completely, I swept at the shaman’s legs and knocked his legs into the air.

He dropped with a loud swoosh as all the air in his legs erupted outwards.

“You’re not much in hand-to-hand, are you?” I asked, standing up. I walked over to him, barely noticing the sudden pause in the fighting as both orcs and allies turned to watch us.

“Dem-on spawn,” he gasped, spitting blood to the side and closing his eyes. I ended him with a hard stomp to the face.