I studied the choices again but there was only one that appealed to me. And appeal wasn’t exactly the right word for having my arm forced up behind my back until the tendons tore.

“Bart?”

He appeared beside me. “Yes, Mark?”

“I forgot to ask. Is there any way I can override a poor choice by the other volunteers?”

“No. Group decision, remember?”

“Damnit!” I had visions of war weary adventurers picking Happy Happy Fun Land hoping for a reprieve.

“Is there anything else?”

“If I get killed by pixie dust I’m going to be pissed.”

Bart chuckled. “Good luck.”

I was left alone with the floating tablet. The tutorial was greyed out otherwise I’d have tried to select it again. It was at least a known quantity. I gave it a try just in case, but the tab was unresponsive. “Positive mental attitude, Mark. That’s all it takes. Think good thoughts and the others will pick anything but airy fairy land.” Even Mecha Tyrannicus would be preferable.

I made my choice for A Green and Pleasant Land and waited. Never in my wildest dreams had I ever imagined praying to be transported to an orc infested warzone, but there I was.

“Volunteers, we have a winner. It was a close call, but you’ll be transported to the world in ten seconds. Prepare yourselves.”

I waited for the mind-message to fill in the most important detail; where we were going. Nothing else came through on the Brain Radio, and I started to get antsy. “Hang on! How about a clue?”

Silence.

“It better not be bloody pixies!”

My world burst into a white supernova.

**********

Going from a standing position to one where you’re laid down was perturbing to say the least. I breathed in deeply, smelling mud, straw, and other not so pleasant scents. I was staring at thick wooden beams holding up layers of thatch. There was no symmetry to the construction or square edges on the timber. These were trees cut down, stripped, and laid directly on the wattle and daub walls. Judging by how much of the daub had crumbled, the property wasn’t in the finest of states. The thin wattles peeked through like the ribs of a corpse. That brought back memories of the spider’s food, so I quickly forced them away. I looked to my right and found a clay pitcher of water and on the floor a clay pot containing… well, I’m sure you can guess. And it wasn’t mine, I knew that much. I’d been here for a few seconds at most. My bed was lumpy, packed with hay. The pillow was slightly better, feathers if I were to guess based on the sharp tips that poked at my cheek through the sweat stained fabric.

“Where’re the pixies?” I whispered.

Swinging my legs from the bed, I checked myself over. All of my equipment was still present and correct. Weapons. Armour. A million torches. Fifty eight health potions, forty one mostly useless mana potions, and too many spider legs and chunks of people to count. I was hoping to find a cannibal vendor who could take most of them off my hands. I’d keep a couple back for Spidey, of course, but the rest needed to go. On that note, I fed my companions before stowing them safely back into my pack.

“What now? I feel like Goldilocks sleeping in the kid’s bed. I better not get mauled to death by an angry daddy bear.”

I made the mistake of looking too closely at the chamber pot. It certainly wasn’t porridge floating within.

One of the previously greyed out tabs was flashing in the corner of my vision. I activated it and a whole new interface showed up. The Journal portion was filled with my only success so far which was the completion of the tutorial. To the left, the Quest icon was backlit with gold.

“Ok, let’s see where we are.”

Quest – Save the Villagers

Description – A raiding party of orcs led by Snaglak the Famished has struck the farming village of Peacehaven. Rescue the survivors before they become the celebratory feast.

Reward – Basic crafting box (bronze)

+ 10 Reputation with Dawnstar Alliance

“Yes!” I whisper cheered in the disgusting bedroom. No pixies! This was the best day of my life! I said a mental thank you to the other adventurers and readied myself. This was the real shit. I opened up the minimap and expanded it into the world map. I whisper cheered again. “Open world, baby! Yeah!” Unsurprisingly it was just a vague landmass shaped like an inverted horseshoe, littered with places of note with no descriptions or names. I could see fortresses, wall-guarded passes, vast mountain ranges, kingdom spanning forests, and a lighthouse. I was in my element.

Leaving the bedroom, I found the first signs of the attack. The door was hacked to pieces, laying on the earthen floor like spilled kindling. The small dining table had been knocked over, splashing uneaten stew up the walls. A cook pot smoked in the fireplace as the food dried out and burned. I also noticed the blood which sat in thick pools. People had died here. My excitement ebbed away as I thought of their suffering. A toy rabbit had been shredded, the head staring up at me, its neck a stump of torn straw.

“Orc bastards.”

I could hear faint, dark laughter coming through the doorway. The purple twilight outside was creeping into the full darkness of night. I wanted to see what was going on before formulating a plan of attack, so I took off the greaves and left myself free to sneak. My toe caught a small coin purse on the floor as I made to leave. Ordinarily if something isn’t nailed down or guarded by an observant NPC, that shit was going in my pocket. Cash, jewellery, useless weapons I could sell, family heirlooms. It’s not my most noble trait, I’ll admit. This was different somehow. Everything around me spoke of the toil that had gone into amassing such a meagre kitty. I had no way of knowing if the owners were still alive, but I left the coins where they had fallen just in case.

The alleys between the small hovels were a quagmire from recently fallen rain and heavy footfall. I put one shoe down and the sucking squelch as I removed it was no better than ringing the dinner bell. My only other option was the roof. I looked at the tightly packed thatch and decided against it. The rustling would be less severe, but knowing my luck I’d get to my reconnaissance point and crash through the bloody thing. Noticing the mud closest to the homes was protected by the overhanging straw and thus marginally drier, I hugged the wall and set off. The safest route was behind the humble properties as the weak torchlight of the main thoroughfare couldn’t penetrate the gloom. This in turn meant I had to tread carefully because I couldn’t see much either.

I slowed as a noticeably larger building came into view, backlit by the flames.

As I approached, I could smell the familiar scents of beasts. Whichever animals were inside, they were clearly agitated. I could hear the low nickers as heavy forms shifted within pens. The rear doors stood open, throwing a cone of light from within. Before taking a chance on being revealed by the glow, I stood with my back to one of the barn doors and listened. The evil laughter nearby was now more pronounced, but to my untrained ears nothing was moving inside except for the penned animals. I kept low and snuck a glance around the edge, quickly whipping myself back out of sight. I’d been both right and wrong. It was only the animals moving, because the orc in the barn was passed out next to a collection of empty bottles and a partly eaten foal. The sight of the gutted, defenceless creature filled me with a cold rage. I looked again and pulled up the orc’s stats.

Name – Orc Raider (Lvl 4)

Description – A common orc warrior used as fodder by the goblin overlords. As ugly as they are useless at anything but killing and dying.

Weakness – Poison ???

Immunities – None

I could see there was a status afflicting the orc and I pulled that up too.

Affliction – Drunk (Unconscious)

Description – Consuming large amounts of alcohol inhibits fighting ability, stats, and vision

Duration – 8 hours

So this thing was paralytic? Good. I left cover and pulled out my coward’s blade. The horses snorted as I passed, having lost all their trust in the two-legs. One of the mares was leaning from her pen, staring dolefully at her slain child with expressive brown eyes. I pulled a face that to humans expressed sorrow. To the grieving animal, all that mattered was the loss of her baby. My teeth clenched so hard my jaw started to throb. I noticed as I neared that the killer still had a strip of its partly eaten flesh in one hand. Its snaggle fanged mouth was twisted in a bloody sneer. Its oily green skin was mottled with purple blemishes. My hatred overrode my fear of the thing which would stand taller than me if awake, not to mention more muscular. Even unconscious, the layers of muscle below its rusting armour were staggering. The rats and the spiders were governed by their nature, nothing more. The orcs were a manifestation of true evil, existing only to bring suffering and death. Any compunction I felt about killing vanished as I buried my blade to the hilt in its eye socket. The armour clad legs kicked once and then fell still. An achievement pinged and I ignored the notification, kneeling at the foal. I let the bloodied dagger fall to the hoof scuffed earth.

“You’ll regret this,” I warned myself.

I didn’t care. I pulled out one of the resurrection scrolls and double checked the wording again. Biological entity. It was pretty damned clear. I flattened the curled parchment as best I could, laid it in the mud, and placed a hand on the still warm foal.

“Ara Vero Zuulo Mer.”

The yellowed paper crumbled to dust as I said the final word. Deep within the open chest of the infant horse, its heart reformed and started to thump with life. The savage claw marks knitted closed. I climbed to my feet as the hollowed body began to steam with regenerating organs and flesh. Fresh hide grew at each side of the ghastly opening, flowing together like water. Breath blew from its nostrils, kicking up a puff of hay dust. In a state of confusion, the foal lifted its head and looked around. Spying its mother nearby, it stood up on shaky legs and approached.

“There you go, little one.”

My hand reached for the iron bar securing the pen, but I suddenly realised I had next to no knowledge of equine behaviour. The mother had seen her child perish. Would she accept this reborn simulacrum? I watched nervously as the parent cautiously sniffed at the resurrected animal. The seconds dragged out interminably until I was sure my efforts had been wasted. My unknowingly held breath burst out when big momma whinnied and licked at the little one. I threw caution to the wind, gently eased the gate open, and moved back to allow the reunion to take place. When they were safely snuggling together again, I locked the gate and turned my attention back to the mission. I’d been lucky with the drunk orc. I might not be with the rest of the raiding party.