I fell into the world of Thorr’un through the velvet ceiling of a massive canopied bed.

As I hung suspended for a single instant, I had time to take in a huge, stone room dimly lit by flickering torches. The corners were draped in shadow. In one wall was a tall, arched window. Then, I was plummeting, crashing through the wooden framework, arms and legs akimbo.

I was lucky in that the gigantic feather mattress provided a soft landing.

I was unlucky in that the bed was already occupied.

I had no chance to see its occupants, though, because the world was spinning and so was I. I bounced a foot or so in the air, flailing and surrounded by endless sheets of black cloth, my ears picking up the muffled sounds of a gruff, angry voice roaring in a language I didn’t recognize.

A second later, the words rearranged themselves in my mind. I realized I did speak the language. And I realized that I was deeply, deeply fucked.

“Assassin! Guards! Guards!”

Welcome to Thorr’un!

As a first-time player character, you have unlocked Tutorial: for the first 12 hours of your life, you are considered Invulnerable.

The cheerful, golden notification popped up in the center of my vision as I struggled to free myself.

Oh, I thought, fingers tearing at the heavy velvet hangings. They wrapped around my limbs, trying to trap and suffocate me. The cloth was old, smelling of dust and mold. Invulnerability could be useful right about now.

Congratulations! You have spawned as the Level 1 character Jondalar.

You have 14 Unassigned Attribute Points. Please see your Character Sheet to assign Attribute Points.

No time for that! I struggled, managing to roll of the bed. I landed on all fours, grunting with pain as my knees struck the stone floor.

I flicked a glance over my shoulder and saw that the giant cloth tent I’d dropped on the bed’s occupants was heaving like a storm-tossed sea. There were at least two figures wrestling beneath it, struggling to free themselves.

One of them was still shouting. “Assassin! Assassin! Guards!”

The other was growling and snarling, either in a language I didn’t recognize or in no language at all.

Bang!

On the far end of the bedchamber a wooden door burst open. Six figures dashed in, clanking like mad in matching suits of full-on plate armor. They were short and stocky, built like tanks.

We’re sorry, but Tutorial has been permanently disabled.

Shit. I scrambled to my feet.

Six helmeted heads scanned the room and locked onto me.

Shit shit shit.

Then, guttural yells rose from half a dozen throats as the short, stocky warriors charged across the room.

Congratulations! By willingness of fate and fortune, you’ve reached Level 2!

You have 18 Unassigned Attribute Points. Please see your Character Sheet to assign Attribute Points.

Good luck, brave adventurer. You’ll need it.

“Holy crap…” I muttered desperately, waving my hands furiously in front of my face.

The notifications crowded one another, each one scrolling up across my vision as the next appeared, and I tried to brush away the words, shove them to the side, swipe them away, but nothing seemed to work.

I tried to see around them, to gauge the incoming soldiers, but all I could tell was that they were carrying long, heavy polearms and had leveled them like lances as they thundered toward me.

I tried to dodge to one side but tripped over something squat and heavy — A chest? — and sprawled to the floor, air spewing from my lungs. I heard the clank and thud of armored feet and then the whoosh of a blade splitting the air. I rolled instinctively, hearing the ringing clang of steel on stone behind me.

“Fuck!” I yelled, shoving myself forward and crashing straight into a wall. I bounced off, ears ringing, stunned as I sprawled on my back.

The ringing footsteps swerved to follow me. Upside down, I could see the heavy blades lowered to thrust into my prone body.

“Hold!” The voice was deep, harsh and powerful.

The soldiers thundered to a halt, one of their blades literally throwing up sparks as it scraped to a halt along the stone floor just inches from my bare, heaving ribs.

The notifications slowly dissipated, leaving my vision clear. The only thing obscuring it now were the group of armored humanoids, squat and thickly built. They crowded around me, polearms held at the ready.

I tried not to think about the fact that at the ready meant ready to impale yours truly. Up close, I could see through their open-faced helms. I blinked in surprise. The soldiers looked how I’d always imagined dwarves: thick features and big noses with bushy beards and mustaches. The only difference was that their skin was ashen grey. I wondered what that meant.

I realized, then, that on top of my other training it might have shown foresight for me to read up on some lore.

Oops.

I looked around wildly and saw the figure who’d taken command of the situation.

It was another one of the grey-skinned dwarves, standing on the edge of the huge bed with his fists on his hips. He was thickly muscled from his shoulders to his toes, and I could see every line of his gnarled physique.

Because he was buck ass naked.

A final notification obscured my vision of the dwarf, but the image of his dangly bits had already seared itself into my memory.

Welcome to Khazzad Bharush ur-Godall!

Abandoned to the ravages of time, this ancient dwarven stronghold will test your courage, faith and endurance as you struggle to survive.

Good luck, adventurer!

Thanks, I thought sarcastically as the notification faded as rapidly as it had come. But the message’s kind wishes did nothing to ease the anger, frustration and fear that were pumping through my body. There was only one explanation for everything that had just happened.

The game was trying to kill me.

I kept perfectly still, watching as the dwarf considered me down his bulbous, hooked nose.

His bushy black beard fell to his waist and he had a long braid that draped over one shoulder and down his heaving chest in a dark rope. I wished that his beard was just slightly longer, but alas. He was built like a keg: short and round, but somehow still rippling with muscle. A keg with a six pack.

Behind him, the fallen drapes continued to rustle, and he turned. I expected him to help his companion disentangle themselves, but instead he just delivered a kick to the shapeless mass of black, dusty velvet.

There was a soft cry of pain, then another growl.

“Quiet!” he boomed. “I’m thinking!”

Ouch. I thought, wincing as pain shot through my ears. I wondered if the dwarf did a volume lower than Thunder. Hoping it wouldn’t tick him off, I slowly rolled over onto my stomach.

“You there! Don’t move!”

I froze, eyes flicking up, keeping my gaze intentionally unfocused until it was halfway up the dwarf’s broad chest. He was pointing at me imperiously with one thick finger.

I swallowed. This was the dwarf in charge, and I’d royally pissed him off. My mind raced. I didn’t know much about videogames, especially the type of fantasy RPG that AvatR was meant to emulate, but I didn’t imagine characters usually spawned in the bedchamber of seven angry dwarves.

I glanced at the mass of fabric behind him that was furtively rustling. Snow White, is that you?

The dwarf lowered his hand, eyes narrowing. They were strange, those eyes, a heated golden amber color that was at the same time oddly flat and without luster. His sudden silence was eerie as he seemed to examine me, his measured gaze slowly traveling down my body and back up.

I didn’t return the favor, trying to protect my traumatized mind.

When he spoke again, his voice was gravely and low.

Still like thunder, I thought. Just a bit further away.

“Either you’re the most inept assassin in the history of Thorr’un,” he rumbled. “Or you were doing something else creeping around my bedchamber.”

“I’m not—” I started to protest, but the dwarf’s features darkened and there was a sudden movement in my peripheral vision. I tried to duck sideways, on instinct, but I wasn’t fast enough to avoid the armored fist that smashed into my cheek with a soft clang and sent me sprawling to the floor. My vision swam.

Got it. No interruptions.

The pale figure half a dozen feet away, towering over my sprawled body, smiled slightly. It wasn’t a happy smile. Rather, it was supremely satisfied. “One way or another, after I’ve had my fill here,” he cast a glance over his shoulder back into the bed, “I’m certain you’ll be eager to tell me how you came to be so deep in my kingdom, undetected.” At the last word, he cast a glance over his soldiers.

It was a calm look, but I swear I heard several of the dwarven guards shuffle uncomfortably.

Wouldn’t want to be you guys, I thought snarkily. Then I paused, realizing how stupid that comment was coming from me.

King Dwarf gestured, rings flashing on his fingers. “Take him to the Anvil.”

That sounded promising.

There were clanking sounds all around me. Big, broad hands grabbed under my arms and heaved me to my feet. My legs felt a little wobbly, but as I tried to blink back to awareness I realized I was being tugged toward the doorway. I looked back, past the glinting forest of polearms and over the heads of my short, thickly-built captors.

The naked dwarf had turned back to the bed, evidently dismissing us from his thoughts. His broad back flexed as he wrenched back the sheets, revealing…

I blinked.

It was a woman. And, unless I missed my guess, she was not a dwarf.

Definitely not…

I couldn’t help myself. My eyes devoured her body. I’m not sure how I could see so clearly in the low light, but I could pick out the strands of her chestnut hair, one side braided and the other side tousled and falling across her face. Her skin was smooth, shining in the flickering torchlight. I could see the swell of two ample, round breasts and the curve of a narrow waist. Her legs were long, lithe, disappearing under the tangle of black cloth. In other words, she was hot as all hell. Of course, there was the small consideration that her supple hide was the dark color of evergreen needles. And the fact that when she bared her teeth at the dwarf I could see that her lower canines were long and sharp, predatory.

But my hormones, rushing through my body, weren’t overly concerned. I felt a prickle of heat in the pit of my stomach. Inappropriate, probably, given my situation. But I hadn’t seen a living, breathing female in almost two years. Cut a guy some slack.

“Now, now, my dear,” the grey dwarf murmured softly with a look that was neither caring nor particularly aroused. “Time to play.”

My ears twitched and I felt my mouth tighten into a scowl. On top of all the other things that had my head spinning — everything from literally teleporting into a castle bedchamber and interrupting a dwarven lord to being sucker punched by an armored fist that felt as heavy as a bowling ball — it seemed like all the rules I thought I knew about this type of world had been turned upside down.

Aren’t dwarves usually… honorable? Or something?

A deep, unexpected part of me squirmed. It was a part I hadn’t felt in a long time, a part of me that seemed muffled, like years of Survival Mode had kept it under wraps. Was it some distant memory of chivalry? Some antiquated desire to protect a beautiful woman from harm? Was it just the gentle, emotionless tone of voice the pale dwarf used that filled me with dread? Or was it the fact that the last time I could have helped someone, I chose the path of the coward?

I couldn’t be a coward. Not again. Not this time. But before my addled mind could react I was yanked, stumbling, back toward the doorway and the hallway beyond.

That probably would have been the end of it. My survival instincts would have kicked back in. I would have been taken to some shithole where they could imprison and likely torture me. I definitely didn’t expect five star treatment. But then several things happened, very quickly. All at once, in fact.

The beautiful woman bared her teeth at the dwarf, shoving herself up and lunging towards him with a snarl. The dwarf laughed, boulder-like muscles bunching as he backhanded her across the face and sent her sprawling to the mattress.

And I received yet another notification, the giant block of text obscuring my vision.

Thanks for trading! In return for [Unique, Crafted, Double-Sided Spear], you have been granted a Magic Weapon!

THORN, Blade of Sorrow

Item Type: Unique

Item Class: One or Two-Handed Melee

Material: Enchanted Steel

Damage: Stabbing, Slashing

Requirements: Str 13

Effects: Thorn, Blade of Sorrow, takes the shape of EITHER a six-foot warspear OR a simple ring of twisted iron. Removing the ring will activate Thorn’s enchantment, while a simple thought from its owner will deactivate it. If moved more than 50 yards from its owner, Thorn has a 10% likelihood of reappearing in ring form on its owner’s hand within the first minute, with the probability increasing by 10% in every subsequent minute.

Description: A long, deadly spear, Thorn was forged for the hero Korgan by the giant smith Domohr dan Visser.

Between one stumbling, dragging step and the next, I felt a sudden weight strike my palm as a six-foot-long spear pulsed into existence with a flash of blue-white light. My fingers gripped it instinctively, and I felt a sudden heat shoot through my arm as my guards fell back, reeling and shielding their faces with hoarse shouts. As the notification faded, I twisted, my other hand clamping down on the haft of the spear and my eyes darting left and right.

I was a stranger, in a strange land. I had no friends, no allies, and no fucking clue what was happening. But for all the things I didn’t know, there was one thing that was certain.

This was my second chance. My chance to do things right.

And that meant I had to kick some ass.