“GZell, where is MY bucket?!”

  “Your what?”

  “My bucket. Little brown thing, black banding, holds water. Very important, very. I use him for all sorts of things. Did you take? I need him,” Trelain said, pacing back and forth in the Treehouse.

  We had been at this line of questioning for a few minutes, now. The old Apostle insisting I took his bucket and me repeating my innocence over and over. We had just finished dinner, and I was reading through the glossary after seeing a few things on the map I did not recognize.

  Apparently, I was in the Forest of Gene, on the far east side of the Kingdom of Schaldry. I was about to zoom out and see what continent Schaldry existed on, when this whole… bucket… thing started.

  “I need it. Fetch me my bucket, boy!”

  New Quest! I’m old as fuck and I lost my bucket! Find Apostle Trelain’s bucket and give it to him. Please see mini-map for last known location.

  “I didn’t take it. Even the mini map knows. See?”

  I tried to show him the map but realized that would be impossible so I just kind of babbled some things about my HUD.

  “What was that?” Trelain asked, distractedly.

  “Nothing.”

  I pulled up the map and there was an area, just north east of the treehouse circled in white. I also checked the local time. I had found it earlier, originally some strange naming scheme talking about the level of sunlight in the area, and changed it to standard time.

  I’d have to learn the local lingo later, but judging by the hour (6:40pm) it was a little late to set off on a quest. Minor fetching bullshit or not, I still didn’t know the area and had only used my new powers once.

  Besides, I had more questions for Trelain.

  “I’ll get it in the morning, Tre,” I said, “It’s getting dark out.”

  “Hm? Oh. Yes, yes of course. He’ll be fine.”

  “Did you say he? It’s a bucket.”

  “Right… right.”

  “Speaking of nighttime… do you have somewhere I can crash?

  “Crash? I’m sorry boy. Did you hit a tree coming out of your portal? Do you need healing. Here just a second, I think I have something here,” Trelain started rifling through a chest of drawers next to his cot, “No, this won’t do. Oh maybe I can whip something up with—”

  “Not literally, Tre. I mean sleep. Can I sleep here? Last time I was out there alone, someone tried to kill me.”

  “Kill you?! Who tried to kill you? Wait, is this about the body in the well?”

  A bit taken aback he remembered something I said, I didn’t know what to say at first. I just stared blankly at the old guy.

  “Well?”

  “Yes, Trelain. Some guy in a red jerkin tried to kill me when I was starting to climb the ladder. Earlier today. I know more now. I think he had some ice-based powers? Maybe sword too? He had a cutlass. Wasn’t very good with it, though…”

  “Ice you say? What did the spell look like?”

  “I don’t know, it happened so fast. Little icicles… I think. He hit me twice, once in the shoulder, once in the thigh. Why does it matter?”

  “Everything matters! Everything! My bucket, especially. Where did you put him, again? I need my bucket!”

  “Tre…”

  “Right, sorry. Tomorrow. Of course.”

  I gave him a pointed look.

  “Icicles, a cutlass, and a red jerkin? Sounds like some Hoarfrost Syndicate tomfoolery. They’ve been encroaching on my lands as of late. But I’ve been busy with… well…” He trailed off, mumbling about a fourth something.

  “This syndicate? Does that mean what it means in my world? A gang?”

  “A gang, yes of course. Or, well no. Of sorts! And you think they stole my bucket? But why would they need Bucket, they have the Frost Discipline!”

  “Trelain…”

  “Right. Right. No… they must be involved nearby.”

  “Involved?” I urged the old Apostle to keep going.

  “Ah, involved in criminal activities… but of course! That’s what they do. And we cannot allow it! Not on my land! This is mine. Well, it’s the forest’s. But I made a promise. I did. A promise I shall—” he trailed off abruptly.

  “So… you’re not going to tell me anything more, are you?”

  “No.”

  “I’m going to ask anyway. So, what should I do if I run into these Hoarfrost guys? Will they all try to kill me?”

  Now it was time for Trelain to give me a pointed look, “You killed one and you’re barely an Initiate, boy. You’ll be fine. As long as you don’t stumble into one of their Adherents, you’ll be okay. Besides! I need you to get my bucket!”

  I sighed.

  “There’s a bedroll in the corner. You can set up by the hearth until we make you some better accommodations,” Trelain said from behind his flagon.

  -

  I slept like shit that night.

  Trelain, despite being 5’5” and about the weight of a large housecat, could snore like a kaiju. At one point, I woke up in the middle of the night with my fists up ready to fight.

  My therapist would probably say the heightened level of hypervigilance was a symptom of my newly acquire PTSD from being jumped and almost beaten to death.

  In this world, I just call it survival instincts.

  -

  The morning went off without a hitch. Trelain had some business in town, but insisted that I go get him his bucket today. Something in the twinkle of his eyes made me just give in. Half the time I couldn’t tell if he was just playing up the doddering old fool act for fun or if it was some sort of personality quirk after years of living alone in the forest.

  Either way, I had something to do, and by gods I was going to succeed in my first “fetch” quest.

  Before I left, I eyed Trelain’s bookcase… tempted to pick up a few more things to round out my power suite. But when I looked, the shelves seemed to only contain books on crafting. Woodworking, fletching, pottery, leatherworking, and there was even one on painting still life. I’d have to ask him about the change, later.

  Considering the value of the first three Disciplines I had acquired, and their companion spells, I didn’t want to be greedy and pester the old guy. But he had obviously taken a sort of sage-like role in my life, here.

  So, I elected to trust the process and made my way towards the white circled landscape on the mini map.

  With my new moccasins, I moved through the forest at a much faster pace than my way in. I was tempted to blaze through, using my Spirit Avatar spell, but thought better of it. Considering it only lasted a short while, if another Hoarfrost Syndicate fucker came around… I didn’t want to just have my fists for protection. And I certainly didn’t want to drain my mana for nothing.

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  I was rapidly approaching the circled part of the map, anyway.

  As I moved through the forest, my map filled out. It catalogued the landscape, noting where the path was and highlighting certain points of interest. When I got closer to my target location, I saw a building start to take shape in the distance in my map. The icon wasn’t quite there, yet. But I could see what looked like walls… or were those palisades?

  They were palisades.

  As I got closer, I expected to see people. Or a sign of whoever had put the defensive walls up. Instead, I saw a burned-out rock-ringed campfire and a few barrels strewn about haphazardly. Nearby, there was a kicked over basket and a bushel of rotting apples lay tumbled out of the container. It looked like whoever made camp here had left in a hurry.

  And then I saw the blood smear.

  I didn’t recognize it at first, because half the camp was in mud. But the tell-tale signs of a struggle were readily apparent. A few dozen feet away from the campfire was a pile of bodies… still clothed, at least. But the closer I got, the more I could smell how ripe they were. It had been at least a few days.

  I was on edge. At least I hadn’t been a direct participant in the making of these, but I was seriously feeling the mortality of my new reality in this world. Before I could muse any further about the shortcomings of a world full of magic and packed full of death, I heard a high pitched squeal. Kind of like a pig, but otherworldly. And then another. Pretty soon there was a chorus of the ugly whining noise and the hairs on the back of my neck stood up.

  Remembering this feeling from the other day, I trusted it and immediately cast Furnace.

  Furnace: [Active] [Elemental Spell] [Domain: Metallurgy] Engulf your body in flames as hot as your forge. Become invulnerable to elemental damage while the spell is active. Gain the retribution passive. Lasts a short time. As a passive trait, become invulnerable to base level fire damage after first use of the spell (Mana cost: moderate).

  My body erupted in flames. Just in the nick of time, it seemed. Whatever was sneaking up behind me as I was distracted by the squealing let out an angry cry of its own. My retribution passive had caught my would-be ambusher on fire.

  I rolled to the side, cursing at myself for not bringing a blade or quarterstaff. I just had my three spells, and my bare hands. I lunged at the creature. It looked something across between a boar and a frog.

  The thing had massive tusks, but was a sickly green color and it’s hind legs took on a more coiled to bounce look than hooves. It gnashed its teeth at me, but once again took fire damage. I caught it in a bear hug, holding it’s mouth closed and enveloping it in my flaming embrace.

  It took just a few seconds before it was burnt to a crisp, dead In my hands.

  A few notifications popped up in my periphery, but I minimized them from my field of view. Three more of these creatures were approaching out from behind the pile of dead humans. I let go of the creature, and threw its burning body towards its pack… hitting one straight in the face and catching it alite, as well.

  As I did, I couldn’t help but notice the system notifications in my HUD.

  You have slain a common Gort Varaz.

  You have caught a common Gort Varaz on fire.

  You have enraged an uncommon Gort Varaz.

  You have—

  I minimized the notifications once more, focusing on the impending fight. With one already on fire, I had to deal with the two other creatures fast. Two on one was a lot better odds than three on one. I rushed forward, picking up the fallen basket from the camp. It instantly caught fire, and I tossed it at the two Gort Varaz, slightly aiming for the one on the left.

  It side stepped the basket, but in the time it took to dodge I was already on its ally. With no real weapon to swing, I hit the creature square in the eye with a fist… knocking it up into the air and onto its back. The other one, still on fire in the background, was rolling in the mud to put out the flames.

  Seeing a glint of steel near the pile of bodies, I rolled to the side and grabbed at the thing catching the light of my fire.

  You have equipped a common longsword. You do not have proficiency in this item and cannot use its special attacks. Please visit the gloss—

  I minimized that notification too, and took up a defensive stance with the sword held aloft between me and the now three posturing monsters. One, previously on fire, looked pretty close to dead. Its skin was charred and one tusk had broken clean off. The other two just looked pissed off.

  Still on fire and aware the spell would elapse soon, I quickly reasoned that I should probably stay as close quarters as possible. More chances to catch them on fire. I lurched forward, swinging the borrowed sword wide in an arc, hoping to catch the Frog Boar thing on the right. It connected and unfortunately got buried in its skull.

  The monster dropped dead, but so did my means of attack.

  One Gort Varaz saw an opening and moved to gore me with its tusks. I side stepped, using the now downed monster as cover. It lit on fire.

  I now stood on the other side of a burning Gort Varaz as two moved to attack me from either side. But I had a trick I’d been meaning to try. Looking just behind the monster on the left, I cast Mirror Door.

  Mirror Door: [Active] [Conjuration/Escape Spell] [Domain: Mirror] Conjure two 12 ft tall mirrors that you can jump through. You must be able to see your exit, visually. Mirrors can be destroyed by your enemies. If destroyed while you’re in the mirror, you may be subject to temporal displacement. Use at own risk. (Mana cost: low).

  A large gothic mirror appeared behind me and I fell backwards into a somersault, appearing just next to the monster I was targeting. I rolled to my feet, hauled back, and kicked it. It careened into the air and its head hit the side of one of the palisades with a splat.

  It caught on fire.

  I didn’t waste time on my ‘Babe Ruth’ and hurdled forwards towards the last monster. At the same time it jabbed upwards with its tusks, I kicked downward with a moccasin. My foot crunched into the Gort Varaz’s face. And just like that, all the monsters were down.

  There was a slurry of dings in my brain, and a lot of notifications in my periphery. But I didn’t look. Not yet. I needed to make sure there was nothing else waiting to ambush me. I had made that mistake one too many times. A few minutes passed, and my furnace spell ran out. Now, painfully aware I had used all my mana… I felt exhausted.

  Exhausted, but kind of proud of myself.

  I didn’t like the idea of killing just to kill, but these things had come after me and seemingly slaughtered this group of people in their sleep. I still didn’t understand why they were piled up the way they were, but maybe the glossary would tell me more later.

  I looked around for Trelain’s bucket. It took a while, but I found it a little way down the hill from the camp. It had rolled into a bush, and the only reason I located it was because my mini map took pity on me and had me playing another ridiculous game of hot or cold. It looked like the same bucket he described. Brown, black bands, and I swore I could almost sense a hint of Trelain coming off the bucket.

  I dismissed the thought and turned to my current predicament.

  I could just carry the bucket, but I did have a non-dimensional space inventory system. Never having put anything into it, I fumbled a bit. Eventually I figured out that if I had my inventory window open in my field of view and held an item, I could put it into a certain slot by focusing on an empty square. The bucket disappeared out of my hand and became a little icon in my two-hundred space inventory. I made my way back up the small hill to the camp.

  As I passed the first slain monster, a message popped up in semi translucent text in my field of view.

  Common Gort Varaz. Would you like to loot the body?

  Yes/no

  I mentally selected yes, and much to my surprise the monster corpse started to smoke a black ichor filled smoke, and then disappeared with a pop. The smell was putrid. The last thing I had smelled that bad was when I had a call in a hoarder home and the guy had gout. I saw a few notifications pop up telling me I had new items in my inventory, but I could look later.

  There were a few more corpses to loot, anyway.

  When I finished with the fourth, I was half tempted to just read my notifications and check my inventory then and there. But then I remembered the other pile of corpses (the victims).

  With a frown, I looked at the pile of dead bodies, again.

  "I should do something about that…”

  My eyes fell on a shovel nearby. It’s like the universe was listening. Or I just hadn’t been paying attention during the fight. It did sort of blend in with the palisade, leaning up against the wall.

  Before I began digging, I decided I should check the bodies for any types of identification or personal keepsakes I could mark the grave with. If anyone was looking for this group of people, maybe this would help. I didn’t exactly know if burying them was the right choice, culturally. But, given there was a roving bunch of monsters in the area I figured it was a safe bet that folks would rather have their loved ones safe from being a meal than have their values disrespected.

  It wasn’t my first time digging through a dead person’s clothing, looking for ID.

  It wasn’t even my second. But, unfortunately, I didn’t find anything so helpful as a driver’s license or whatever would have passed for that in this strange new world.

  I did find a few things, though. In a middle-aged red headed woman’s trousers, I found a long stemmed wooden pipe with gold filigree. The man that was piled on top of her wore a silver chain around his neck with a medallion styled pendant. The pendant had a bear with antlers and what I took as initials on the back: B.J.T.

  Another few nicknacks and bobs that probably didn’t have much significant meaning or value stayed in the deceased pockets.

  There was even a bottle of some sort of red-looking liquor in a jacket pocket. One grizzled looking man with a nasty looking gash cut across his face and down his neck had a silver dagger gripped in his hand, held tight by rigor mortis.

  I also found a letter in the breast pocket of a young woman, also with red hair and a shock of freckles across her face marred by the presence of a savage bite on her neck. The letter, coated in blood, was addressed to someone named Benji.

  I pocketed it, reasoning that if I might come across someone sharing the name, I could pass it on. Satisfied with a collection of keepsakes that might mark the grave appropriately, I spent the rest of the afternoon digging a large hole and putting the slain to rest. It was messy, rotten work… especially with half the camp being in a bit of a mud pit.

  When I was done, I drove the dagger into the ground and hung the locket on the cross guard. I lay the pipe nearby.

  I walked back to Tre’s in silence. My grim job complete, my mind returned to the life I had left behind and all the people I had failed to save on calls. Being a paramedic was a rough gig, but at least I’d never had to do anything like this before. The new world had a lot of fantastical things, but I hoped against hope that I hadn’t just been teleported to a grim dark universe.

  Shaking off the feeling as best I could, I checked in with my HUD.

  I had a lot of notifications to check.