I'm hit by the familiar feeling I'm falling in my dream, the sensation that happens halfway between sleep and awake where my body jolts as if I really did fall and land back in consciousness. This time I heave a breath as I land, immediately aware I'm not in the soft warmth of my bed. Damp leaves stick to my cheek, the musty smell of earth and decay surrounding my head. 

Not my apartment.

The top of my heads presses against a hard object, and I reach out a hand. A tree trunk scrapes against my fingernails as I run fingers over the bark. I squint above, where clouds move across the night sky, moonlight phasing in and out as they do, then pull myself onto my hands and knees, fighting down the dizzy nausea to focus on my surroundings.

The trees surround the copse I woke in, canopies touching. What the hell? I rub my head, as if it would push back in any memories of how I arrived here. I'm positive I headed to bed and not out for a mind-blanking, alcohol-fuelled night.

Omigod. Creeper Dude. Did he break into my apartment? Somehow drug me?

Is he nearby? 

I scramble backwards, rest against the tree and hold my breath, listening again.

Silence. An object catches my eye; a bag resting against the trunk next to me. I reach out, then catch sight of my wrist.

A silver band, too tight to push over my hand if I tried, clamps around my skin.  A small screen flickers to life as I tap the surface and blue words appear.

Eleanor

Mage

Magic Specialisation: Unknown

Level 1

HP 5

Mana 10

Spells: Fire Scorch

Weapon Proficiency: Staves +1

The text disappears and I shake my arm. What the hell? I need more information. I'd hardly call my job as a cleaner magical, although scorching Faceless into oblivion would be tempting. Besides, I play a Cleric in the game.

The sleeve of black cloth shirt I'm dressed in drops over the band. I don't own a black shirt. I touch the shirt, and stare at the loose black pants and thin shoes; neither came from my wardrobe.

Fear trickles across my scalp and down my neck as my dream-like state fades.

Where the hell am I, and why?

I grab the light, brown canvas bag and pull open the belt-like fastening. Yep, light because it's empty.

Screw this, I need to move. Who ever brought me here could be back any moment with cable ties and unspeakable plans for me. Standing, I haul the bag across my shoulder and stumble through the trees into the dark. At each leaf crunch I wince and pause in case I alerted someone. The thin shoes allow stealth, but every rock and fallen branch presses into my sore feet.

The forest thins and I spot a path nearby. Do I walk into the open? Or stay in the tree's cover? I grip the bag strap as I deliberate.

Something moves in the shadows behind, and I spin around. A small clicking sound, more rustling.

Yeah, path seems like a good idea right now. 

I back up in the path's direction, straining to see what's making the sound. The shadow moves, growing larger as it approaches, plunging from the darkness towards me.

Holy fuck.

A spider. A huge ass, red and black creature twice the height of me. I'm not an arachnophobe, but when a spider this big enters my world, I've no desire to stick around.

Red Widow

Level 1

Non-aggressive

HP 5

The creature moves forward and I trip; the forest floor greeting me as I fall backwards. Non-aggressive? Seriously? Fear tingles through and along my arm. No, not fear, something else. A pressure builds as the spider lifts a leg, feeling its way across the forest floor.

The bracelet surrounding my arm buzzes and I glance down.

Fire arcs from my right hand, hitting the spider squarely in the head, an explosion of orange light surrounding the creature. I shield my eyes with one arm, and when I brave peeking out I'm not sure what shocks me the most. The size, the burnt corpse - or the fact I just threw a frickin fireball out of my fingers.

Fire Scorch

Crits Spider for 8 (overkill)

"Oh yeah, nice. The whole bloody lot will come now," remarks a voice from behind.

I scramble to my feet.  A guy around my age, tall, scruffy blond hair, built like the proverbial brick house stares down at me. "You do know they don't attack unless you do."

"What?"

"The spiders. Get on the path, dwarf." He laughs. "Gnome?"

"I'm human," I snap. "You're the bloody giant."

I appraise him. Identical backpack, loose clothes that match mine. Sour look joined with curiosity in his eyes.

"Get on the path," he repeats.

A branch cracks behind me, a multitude of clicking sounds filling the air. More dark shadows loom.

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

"Shit!" I don't need telling again and hightail past the guy, not stopping as I run along the path.

"Do you even know where you're going?" he calls after me.

I halt and look back as the guy strides closer.

"Do you?" I ask.

"I don't even know where I fucking came from."

His bracelet pings at the same time as mine and I glance down.

Ewan

Cleric

Level 1

HP 5

Mana 10

Spells: Holy Strike

Weapon Proficiency: Staves +5 

"Mage?" he asks.

"Cleric?" I laugh. "You should be a tank."

His eyes narrow. "Yeah, they should at least let us choose."

"Who?"

"Who the fuck knows? I've spent the last hour wandering around in circles trying to find a road. All I've found is this path that goes on forever. And a shitload of spiders." A sound in the forest triggers the hairs in the back of my neck and he waves a hand at me. "Keep walking. If we get far enough away, they'll stop following."

I attempt to match his strides. Is he going to leave me on my own?

"Uh. Ewan. What the hell is going on?"

"You a gamer?"

"Yeah."

"I think you're having an immersive experience." He snorts a laugh.

My head scrambles to catch up. "I didn't sign up for this! This is a joke right?" I tip my head to the sky. "Hello?"

"Dunno. Maybe. Thought a guy with a paintball gun might leap from the trees but not some mutant insect."

"Spiders aren't insects."

He scowls, lip curling. "Seriously? Semantics bother you in this situation? I don't give a shit, they're not normal. Mutant spiders? Magic conjured by our hands wasting them? I swear, somebody has dumped us into a game."

"VR?" I wipe hands across my face, feeling for a headset.

"Believe me, this is fucking reality."

"Well, I wouldn't be level 1 if this is a game, I'm level 50 in the game I play. And I wouldn't choose to play a Mage."

"I guess you re-rolled. Me? Level 50 Paladin and mythical armor when I play." He gestures at himself. "Look at this. Level 1 cloth. Cleric for fucks sake." He shakes his backpack. "Zilch in here. Not even a bloody weapon."

"You can cast instead of using a weapon?" I suggest. 

"I never, ever play casters."

"I guess you re-rolled," I mimic.With another withering look, the guy turns and walks away again. "Where are you going?"

"To find a way out."

My band pings as I catch up.

Darkwood Forest.

Old Kingdom Territory

Original...

I tap the band again, and as I walk the screen fills, each step along the path expands the size of a small map, filling in the blanks.

"How long have you been here?" I ask Ewan.

"Couple of hours?"

"You woke up here too?" 

Ewan stops and holds up a hand. "Shush." He extends a finger and points into the trees. A faint light filters through and he steps towards the thick trees which obscure the . "Maybe that's somewhere we need to go."

"Um. See those in the trees? Spiders? I'm not bloody going near them. They might avenge me for killing their brethren." My semi-sarcasm hides the fear this is a possibility.

He halts and turns his head. "Starter area, Eleanor. Don't touch them and you'll be fine."

"Yeah. Think I might stay here."

"Suit yourself."

On a path to nowhere. On my own. "Fuck it," I mutter under my breath and edge after Ewan, around the trees.

The further we move from the path, the denser the woods. White web wraps around tree branches above, and I glance away tensing in case something lands on me from above. Besides, I do not want to know if anything or anybody is trapped. 

The clicking noise from before intensifies as the black and red monsters appear. Involuntary tingling in my arm intensifies again.

"Don't touch them!" Ewan calls over his shoulder.

Sure. They're not walking towards him.

I catch sight of a broken branch on the ground near one of the spiders. I have a bloody hard time believing the creatures won't aggro, or how long my mana will last if I need to kill a few. I grab the stick. 

Another wristband buzz and information.

Darkwood Stave

Sometimes you gotta make the most of what you have

Level 1

+1 Wisdom

Stave? That's optimistic. Although, good weight, sturdy, long enough to hit the bastards with from a distance. The spiders movement follows a pattern, back and forth, sometimes leaving space between them. Aidan and me play old school video games, and I kick his ass on the Frogger scoreboard. Their movements continue to follow a pattern, legs rising and falling, but oblivious to me or Ewan. I study the pattern for a few minutes until I snatch my chance and rush through a gap left by their dance. 

I point the branch at one on the way past. Starter area or not, how do we know these are non-aggressive to practice on?

Stave, my ass. My mum's dog chases bigger sticks than this.

As I catch up to Ewan, the spiders remain in their weird pattern, their sound fading behind. A single-storey, stone cottage rests several meters away. The dim light Ewan spotted from the path shines out and illuminates a window on the left hand side, closer to us. As we tread along a makeshift pathway, created by regular walking through the trees, a small, tilled field appears in front.

Ewan's dark clothes cloak him, and I slam into his back as he stops. "What's wrong?" I ask. 

"Um. Might want to slow down."

"Why?"

Again the derisive noise that seems to be a key part of his verbal repertoire. He points at my tree branch. "What's that?" 

"A weapon."

"Give it to me."

"No." I clutch the stick closer. "I found it."

He jabs a finger towards the nearby building. "I'm going over there. I need your tree branch in case the occupant is less friendly than our spider mates."

"You're a caster," I remind him.

"Screw that." He reaches out for my weapon and I step back, ducking from his hands. 

"Are you usually a thieving asshole?" I hold the stick between us in warning. I swipe at his hand as he attempts to grab the stave again. "Find your own tree branch!"

I'm in a forest with no clue how or why, and I'm fighting with somebody over a large stick? A bloody stick. Jesus, El.

"Bet there's something better to fight with in the house," he sneers and drops his attempt.

"What? Like a table leg? Epic."

"You are... irritating." I bet that's not the word in his head. "I hope we part company soon." 

"Same," I mutter but we both know the truth: safety in numbers.

Heel to toe, he steps cautiously towards the house and flattens his back against the bricks. His height allows him a glance through the window and I peer through the dim, heart thumping. Ewan seizes hold of something and laughs loudly, waving the item in my direction. 

A gardening fork.

Skip's Fork

Pointy and sharp

Level 1

+ 1 Attack Power 

"Screw you and your stick!" he calls.

"Shush!"

"There's nobody in there. Come on." Before I reach him, Ewan rounds the corner, his bulk disappearing from view.

"What about Skip? He might be nearby and might not like you robbing his fork." Gripping my weapon, I follow.

Ewan stands in the middle of a small room with dirty wooden floor and chipped bare brick walls. The place smells dank and as earthy as the woods. This can't be a home? A table, chair and -

"Fuck, yeah!" The fork clatters to the ground as Ewan stoops down. I crane my head past him. A large wooden, chest is tucked in the corner, one Ewan scrabbles to open with little success. More colourful language escapes his lips as he wrestles with the locked, metal catch.

I'd help, but chances are he won't share what's inside. Besides, if he needs my help he can bloody ask nicely.

I plonk my backside onto the roughly hewn chair, and sink back into the questions in my head. How am I here? Why? I'm not in the habit of waking up in a virtual world, surrounded by huge ass spiders and a huge ass guy. A lifetime urban dweller, I've no clue how to survive outdoors, with or without my new fiery personality. Ha ha.

"Maybe blast it open?" I suggest.

"Good point." He reaches behind him for the gardening fork and attempts to prise open the lid with a rusted prong.

"Why won't you just use your magic?" I huff and outstretch my arm, focusing on building the pulsing power from before. "Stand back."

"As if that would -"

Fire seers the wood, as it shoots from my hand, but the wood barely scorches. "Huh."

"See?" He takes the fork again.

"Leave it. I'm too tired for this crap. Let's go. There's no accessible loot or quest here."

"Loot or quest?" He half-laughs. "All I want is out."

"Then come on."

A blurred figure appears at Ewan's side, male, skinny, arm around Ewan's neck holding what looks like an animal claw held against his throat. "Fucking ninjas!"

Ewan shrieks in alarm. Actually shrieks. Blood streaks the second guy's face, and if his clothes weren't black I imagine they'd be as crimson as his hands.

Dean

Assassin

Level 2

Specialisation: Unknown

Abilities: Slash

Stealth

AP + 2