“Never mind Berieal,” Kellmen said, turning me to face the map again. I shook my heebie-jeebies off and focused. I began to search the headings of different areas. Next to Kellmen’s identifier was a label.

Miodóg Forest (Level 3)

“So, what’s the Level mean?” I asked, finally getting back on track.

“Oh!” Kellmen said as he clicked on it. A little icon of three trees cropped up, and a description filled in below it.

“So, that tells you the minimum suggested Level for a Player if they plan on venturing in a location,” Kellmen said, pointing to the variable, “and if the area has a minimum suggestion of more than ten Levels higher than your current one, it will just show up as a skull. Those are what we call Skullies.”

He looked over his shoulder at me.

“Following so far?”

I nodded, and he continued.

“As I mentioned, Miodóg is a ‘Phase Turn’ area. Now, there are different difficulties based on the phase of the day you’re entering it. After dusk, the creature encounters go from a minimum of three to probably somewhere in the thirties. Which means death for everyone.”

“Everyone?” I asked.

“Everyone,” Kellmen confirmed.

“No one knows what the nighttime level of the forest is?” I asked.

“Doubtful,” Kellmen answered, ”for instance, I’m in the top twenty out of all the Players for Level, yet I’m only Level Seventeen. The highest-Level Player so far is nineteen, and even he doesn’t go to Miodóg alone after dark.”

I was perplexed. I felt that absorbing small amounts of information about this place would be better, but it didn’t seem like that was going to happen. But, I didn’t want to be left behind, either.

“Alright,” I said, taking a breath, “so where are we heading?”

Kellmen poked one of the dots northeast of where we were.

“Gruoch. It’s a nice town that’s kind of out of the way, but it’s the closest to where we are now. Plus, it’s not far from a Portal Gate.”

He removed the satchel hanging from his waist. He unclamped it and stuck his hand inside and removed a shimmering, iridescent blue stone with a wonderfully crafted metal frame wrapped around it. Beneath the surface of the rock, a shifting, swirling pattern of ancient letters bubbled up and receded, almost like the answer die of a Magic 8-Ball.

“Normally we’d just use our Home Stones, but you have to marry them to a location. That wouldn’t help you at all because you’d just end up right back here. Sorry, bro.”

“That’s alright,” I said, and Kellmen placed the stone back in the pouch and closed it.

“I’m just along for the ride,” I continued, “show me what I need to know.”

“When we get back to C.A., I’ll help you out with your Home Stone and get you set up.”

“What’s C.A.?” I asked.

“Oh, sorry. That’s an abbreviation for Caraig Abhainn,” Kellmen stated, gesturing to a spot far off of the map, “it’s one of the largest discovered cities in this world.”

“Sweet,” I said, greedily rubbing my hands together, “I can’t wait to get my hands on one of those Home Stones.”

Kellmen stopped.

“You should already have one.”

“Uh…” I said, quickly looking around my waist. I didn’t even have a physical knapsack on hand.

“Yeah, I don’t think so.”

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Kellmen scowled.

“You’ve got to have it somewhere,” he clapped and cleared his throat, “no worries, we’ll figure it out!”

“Cool,” I said, shrugging, “like I said, teach me how to survive and do stuff, and I’ll be very grateful.”

“Alright,” Kellmen announced to his posse, pointing off into the trees.

“Our mounts are back a ways on the trails. Vale, you’re going to need to ride with Berieal.”

The Guildmaster turned back to me with an apologetic smile.

“Hope that’s okay?”

“It’s perfectly fine,” I said.

I was more than happy to endure a little awkwardness to get a better idea of what was happening to me.

Anubis shot over next to me and opened his Menu. After a moment, the sword on his back was replaced with a quiver and bow.

“Nice,” I complimented, giving him a thumbs up. It was still so strange, interacting with him and pretending it was normal. There were already things I was noticing that had remained from reality. For instance, through the corner of my eye, I was aware that he kept staring at me, his mouth open and his tongue lolling. Though, I had to admit, armed to the teeth and traveling with a group of warriors, he was very much the image of a protector now. A weird sense of pride washed over me as I admired this tough little guy.

As we reached the trees, a dark pathway wound down into the dark, dense forest. It was eerie, despite its beauty. Anubis left my side and took the lead down the trail, Tibbets close behind. Iam then took his turn. Berieal was next, and I was prompted to walk behind him. Kellmen brought up the rear.

“You guys definitely have a system down,” I said, throwing a glance at Kellmen, “is the Beatdown Brigade just you five?”

I heard a snort and, for the first time, the crack of Iam’s authoritative voice.

“Fuck, no.”

“Oh,” I said, looking at Kellmen in confusion. The human smiled and made an apologetic gesture again. I had a feeling he was used to doing that.

“We have fifty-six members,” the warrior clarified, “we are a B-Rank Guild, which is just a way of saying we have the skill and numbers to take down a lot of other Guilds.”

Iam snorted.

“What’s the highest rank?” I asked.

“After B comes A, but the highest is S,” Kellmen said, “then it drops from C, to D, to E, F… and the lowest is G. Every Guild starts at that rank.”

“A lot of them stay there,” Iam said.

Kellmen rolled his eyes.

“Nothing but facts out of you today, Iam” he said.

I chuckled.

“Is that a warhammer?” I asked, intrigued at the weapon strapped to Kellmen’s back.

His eyebrows shot up and he nodded, reaching back and removing the beastly tool and hefting it in one hand. It had a three-foot handle, roughly the length of a sledgehammer, but the head of the weapon was massive in comparison. Beautifully forged, it was easily four times the size of a typical sledgehammer head, looking more like an air conditioner strapped to a broom handle. I noticed it had an ornate letter ‘C’ etched into the side.

“It is. This is the Constable. He’s my most ferocious companion.” He placed the hammer back and continued down the path.

After ten minutes, we reached a wide clearing under a patch of blue-gray sky. We found our mounts hitched to a post off to the side of a narrow dirt road which ran through the space. And, well, they were a hell of a sight.

Two were horses: one brown, one tan. The brown was a bit playful, I could tell. It happily clopped its hooves in the dirt as it noticed our arrival, letting out a gleeful whinny. The tan horse was more reserved, regarding our approach with a disinterested gaze. It was well-groomed with a shiny black saddle perched on its back.

There was a black pony with a lazy eye and an unkempt mane. However, it had a lovely red leather saddle and a bridle to match. A plethora of bags and other belongings hung from the overladen creature, but it didn’t seem to mind.

The next mount was breathtaking— a beautiful bird creature that resembled a giant, iridescent chicken. Its feathers were the color of the sunset—hues of red, purple, and orange blending with a pale yellow, and as we approached, Iam climbed onto it. He confidently settled in and picked up the reins.

Behind them all lorded a massive goat. Its fur was powder blue and it wore a striking purple saddle between its shoulders. The goat stared at me, full of judgment, its eyes never leaving mine.

Easy there, Goat Lord.

The pony belonged to Tibbets, which made sense for various reasons, chief among them that he wasn’t very big.

Anubis, just as small, climbed into the back of the brown horse. I realized once he was mounted that the horse must have still been young. While larger than the pony, it was still a great deal smaller than the other horse.

The tan horse, it turned out, was the ride for Berieal and I. As he easily slid into the saddle, I followed behind him. I hadn’t been on a horse since sixth-grade summer camp, so I was a bit gun-shy. Berieal turned to me over his shoulder and smiled.

“The horse bites,” he said.

“What?”

“My horse. She doesn’t like other people riding her. She bites.”

I stared at him and looked to Kellmen for confirmation, but he was already climbing onto Goat Lord and hadn’t seemed to notice. I swallowed the lump in my throat and shook my head.

“Okay, man,” I said, at a loss for words. I didn’t say anything else and just waited to depart, keeping clear of the horse’s muzzle.

“Right,” Kellmen said, leading the goat to the front of the group, “let’s just get to Gruoch. If we see any monsters, let’s just avoid them for now. We can’t run the risk of Newbie being killed on his first day here.”

I nodded enthusiastically.

“Yes, I would very much like to not die,” I said.

“So don’t engage unless you have to,” Kellmen continued, pulling the reins and leading the beast to face the road. Goat Lord snorted as if in rebellion and a bit of steam escaped his nostrils.

“Unless, of course, we run into anyone from Holy Scubs,” Tibbets said, readying his pony behind Kellmen.

The Guildmaster paused and then nodded.

“Obviously,” he agreed, “fuck the Holy Scubs!”

“Fuck the Holy Scubs!” the rest of the Guild called back. At that moment, Kellmen spurred his mount forward and the goat took off at a dead sprint. Everyone followed suit.

Berieal was last to launch, keeping the horse steady and looking at me once again, curiously.

“You don’t smell right,” he announced, crinkling his nose.

“What do you mean?” I said, but my question was left unanswered. Berieal burst out laughing, his voice cracking as he did, his eyes never leaving mine. It was the maniacal glee of someone unhinged. Then he suddenly stopped, snapping to a state of neutrality as he slapped the reins against the horse’s neck.

And we were off.