[SP-F1] Tomb with a Loading Screen <<The First Lesson>>

[Gildebrand 0]

Floor 1
<<The First Lesson>>
Party Limit: 4 | 20+ Posts

<< Sixteen Minutes Into The First Day>>

Keira pushed through the crowd, jaw set, face taut—eyes like a blown fuse. Around her, chaos reigned: screams, sobs, shouting—dozens of voices all crashing against each other like a tidal wave made of raw panic. Lovers crying out for partners, friends shouting names, every voice like a spark swallowed by a wildfire.

The sun hung low behind the buildings, casting long, skeletal shadows over the crowd like fingers of something reaching—no, grasping. She blinked up at them, her head swimming, heart in her throat.

“This is a dream,” she muttered under her breath, gaze flicking from the cobbled road to the fractured crowd.
“Just a dream. Gotta be.”

There was a strange hope in the thought. Thin. Brittle. But there.

“Just need tae wake up...”

Her hand shot to her neck. Pinch. Nothing.

She felt the noose of panic tighten around her neck.

“Wake up. Come on.”

She clenched her fist. Raised it. Crack.

The hit to her cheek was solid, but empty. No pain. No feedback. Just a cold silence where her nerves should’ve screamed.

“This... this cannae be happenin'. It’s not—this isn’t real. It cannae be.”
The words fell out of her mouth, quiet, jagged. Her breath hitched. Her chest tightened.
“Why... why the hell is this happening?”

The noise closed in, voices growing louder, pressing on her like stone walls. Her body reacted before her brain could: she ran. Ducking under flailing arms, pushing past weeping strangers, shouldering through confusion and fear like it was floodwater.

She burst from the square into a side street—quieter, but not silent. Her boots skidded across the flagstone. She kept running until her legs screamed, lungs burned, and a dull ache settled behind her eyes. She stumbled to a stop, half-collapsing against a wall.

The city surrounded her—stiff storefronts, unblinking NPCs with their dead-socket stares, and players just as broken-looking as she felt.

She closed her eyes, sweat dripping from her brow, chest heaving. Her thoughts whirled like a broken compass.

“Get a grip, Keira... Get yer bloody head on straight...”

She dragged in a breath. Then another.

She needed a plan. She couldn’t just run blind.

“Alright. Fine. Ye’re stuck. Great. So what’s the grand bloody plan then, Keira?”

The silence didn’t answer. But it listened.

Edited Friday at 12:04 AM by Gildebrand

[Gildebrand 0]

Keira cracked her eyes open, pulse still thundering in her ears like boots on hollow wood. The street was quieter now - just a notch. Like the madness had paused to catch its breath.

Her gaze drifted, that’s when she saw him. He was sharply dressed, a bit strange looking compared to anyone else around. The man strode toward some poor girl like he owned the street—and her personal space.

“What’s this then?” She mumbled as she narrowed her eyes, instinct kicking in. The man reached the girl. She couldn’t hear what he said, but she saw the girl’s face change—surprise, confusion, then anger. A shove. A storm-off. Then the man turned, right toward her, her body stiffened before her mind could catch up. He started walking as she started backing up, though he was a tad bit quicker than she was.

“You there! Stop!”

She did. Reflex, maybe. Or just raw confusion.

“Are ye... talkin’ to me?"
She blinked.
"Pardon me, but I am in need of some assistance, and you appear quite capable."
“Capable? Who are ye talkin-?"

She glanced over her shoulder. Empty alley. Dead end. Just her, the street, and whatever this uncanny bastard was.
When she turned back, he was closer. And smiling.
Too symmetrical. Too clean.

“Me? Ye must have me confused wi’ someone else, lad, I’m barely keepin’—”

“My name is Dorian,” he cut in, slicker than oil on glass.
“...and I am the mayor of this town."

She blinked again. Once. Then twice. Her brain buffering.

“Come again?”

He adjusted his cuff like it needed adjusting. It didn’t. Then launched into a speech - something about duty, loans, community development...

But Keira? She wasn’t listening.

She focused on the way his hand hovered by his mustache - too rehearsed and choreographed. His feet moved like someone’d mapped it out on a grid. His eyes blinked like a metronome, not a person.
And that’s when it hit her.

“Oh, piss off. Ye’re an NPC.”

The words came out like spit. Sharp. Final.
But he didn’t even flinch.
“As part of those mayoral duties,” he said, smooth as polished marble, “I issued a small loan to a member of the community a few months ago. Well, the time to collect had come around and I—”

“Shut up.”

Her voice wasn’t loud. It was cold. A crack forming in the ice.

Edited Thursday at 12:45 AM by Gildebrand

[Gildebrand 0]

“You see, I’ve forgotten who it was I loaned the money to.”

Keira’s eye twitched.

Reality came crashing back in—but it wasn’t the comforting kind. It was the shove-you-down-the-stairs kind. Her fury spiked, sharp and sudden, like a nail through her boot.

“Terribly embarrassing, I know,” the puppet continued, voice smooth as oil on glass, “but I am a very busy man, and I cannot keep track of everything that happens. I’m sure you understand.”

He even had the gall to chuckle. Chuckled. As if he hadn’t just shrugged in the face of all of this.

“Oh aye,” she muttered under her breath, teeth clenched, “I understand just fine.”

With a limp-wristed flourish, the fake man went on—completely unbothered by the growing scowl carving itself across her face.

“Should you be willing to track down the loan recipient for me and collect the col, I would be eternally grateful. Just... maybe don’t let anyone else know I forgot who it was?”

Then it happened.

A soft chime. A menu slid into view, minimalistic, grey and white with dark accents.


<< The First Lesson >>
O | Accept    X | Decline

Keira stared at it.

She wanted to hit him.  She wanted to bury a blade in his chest and watch him glitch out like the lie he was. This wasn’t a quest. This was mockery.
An agent of the bastard who’d locked them all in here, smiling like it still mattered if his imaginary spreadsheets balanced.
Her hands trembled. One curled slowly into a fist, knuckles whitening.

But - 

She stopped.
Not out of mercy. Not forgiveness. Just clarity.
“No use throwin’ punches at the bloody sea,” she muttered.

If this world worked like the others - and so far, it bloody did - then stabbing the mayor would only get her flagged by the town guard. Maybe not even that. Maybe you couldn’t attack them at all. Just bounce off like a knife against a brick wall. And even if it worked - what then? He’d respawn. Smile again. Offer the same job to some other poor bastard who hadn't yet decided to hate everything.

She took a deep slow breath.

In.

Hold.

Out.

The fury didn’t leave, it just folded itself away.

Play the game. For now.

She’d need strength. Gear. Experience. If she was stuck in this hell longer than a weekend, she wasn’t going to survive it on principle alone.
Slowly, she raised a hand. Hovered it over the glowing circle.
Her thumb twitched.

Click.

<< The First Lesson >>
Find Zachariah ☐

“Excellent! I knew I could count on you!”

The voice was cheerful. Practiced.

“You might start with Zackariah, the alchemist. He’s often doing projects for the town, so it may have been him that borrowed the money.”

And just like that, the thing turned on its heel and strutted off—already lining up its next victim.

Keira didn’t move.

She stared at the space where it had stood, jaw tight, breath slow.

“Aye. The first lesson...”
She flexed her fingers, let her hand drop to her side.
“...Don’t ever think this place cares about you.”

Edited Thursday at 01:31 AM by Gildebrand

[Gildebrand 0]

She didn’t know where to begin—of course she didn’t. The quest had popped like it was doing her a favor, but gave her no more than a general direction and a shrug. She sighed, opened her menu, and navigated to the quest log with a few taps.

The marker appeared on the map - but vague, marking an area that included a second of the square, the markets, two dozen streets, and overall about two hundred buildings.

“Brilliant. That narrows it down tae… a quarter of the bloody town.”

So she walked.

Through the narrowing arteries of the city - winding streets squeezed between plaster and stone The rustic charm wore off quick as the light began to die - sun dropping behind the mountain spines, leaving behind a bleeding sky of pink and crimson that soaked the whitewashed walls like a memory that wouldn’t wash out. The older buildings wore sun-bleached shingles, faded brown and brittle. Newer ones? Flashy red tiles that stood out like they were trying too hard. She passed market stalls abandoned in place—pots, empty crates, tools left mid-task, as if their owners had just… vanished. Like they’d paused time itself the moment the message came down.

“Whole place feels like it’s holdin’ its breath.”

Then she nearly missed it.

Tucked between two squat buildings was a door. Maple wood. Brass handle. Small window with some etched floral design that tried—and failed—to be charming. A modest little awning overhead. And above that, a hanging sign, unimpressive and half-faded:

Zachariah’s Remedies

The smell hit her before the door did—strong herbs, chemical sting, something green and not entirely legal.
“This must be the place,” she muttered, with all the enthusiasm of a condemned woman reading her name on a roster.

She placed a hand on the door, paused, and slowly pushed it open.

The air inside was thick with scents—something sweet, something sharp, something that felt like it was trying to solve her. Rows of shelves stretched from the far wall to nearly the entrance, packed with vials, beakers, potions of every dubious color. The clutter was organized, but barely. It was the chaos of someone who knew exactly where everything was—until they didn’t.

Then came the voice.

“Oh, hello.”

Flat. Disinterested. Not even enough energy to be annoyed.

She turned right.

There, behind a worn counter, sat an old man with a beard that could’ve been braided into rope. Ivory white, impeccably kept. He was stirring a cup of some foaming concoction and barely glanced up.

“Great. Another one playing human.”

She stepped forward warily, not quite trusting the air in the room—or the man behind it.

 

 

Edited Thursday at 01:14 AM by Gildebrand

[Gildebrand 0]

“I’ve come tae collect a debt frae ye, I think.”

Keira’s voice rang out as she took slow, cautious steps toward the bearded old alchemist. She didn’t expect much of a response—and she wasn’t disappointed.
Zachariah didn’t answer straight away. He simply kept staring into that frothy, questionable liquid like it held the meaning of life.

“Are you here to order something?” he finally said, as he nudged the cup aside like it might bite him.

“Oh for the love of—"

“I’m sorry,” he continued, tone as casual as someone reading a grocery list, “but I’m absolutely swamped with orders. And I’m running low on supplies.”

Keira opened her mouth to argue—already bracing to explain the concept of urgency to a man who blinked like a tortoise—but then his eyes lit up. That glint. Recognition without recollection.

“Would you gather a few materials for me? Flowers, herbs, rare woods—whatever you can scrounge up outside the city. I’ll help you fill your order when you return. Maybe even teach you to do it yourself.”

“Hold on, that’s no’ part o’ the quest,” Keira shot back.
As if summoned by sarcasm alone, the chime of doom echoed in her ears.

<< The First Lesson >>
  Find Zachariah ☑
  Find 5 Tier One Quality Materials ☐

“O’ bloody course it ain’t that simple...” she hissed.

Her fingers massaged her temples as frustration blossomed into a full-body ache. That familiar static began humming in her skull again - the dizziness and the weight, she felt sick but her virtual body didn't hurl. The panic didn’t come in like a wave this time. It crept. Whispered. Sat beside her like a familiar ghost.

It’s just a dream, her mind murmured.
You just need to wake up.
Just wake up.
Wake up...
“You again?”

The voice cut through her trance like a slap in dialogue form.
She gasped, turning toward him, hand halfway to a fist. Zachariah stood exactly where he had been, smiling like nothing had happened.

“Have you those materials I’ve requested? The sooner the better.”

Keira blinked, then shook her head hard, like trying to rattle the thoughts loose. She wasn’t going to stand around muttering like half the grief-numbed crowd out there. She had to move. Had to do something. If this wasn’t a dream—and it felt less like one by the minute—then sitting still was just another kind of dying.

She sighed. Heavy. Bitter. Worn.

“D’ye know where I should start searchin’?” she asked, voice low but steady.

“Oh, just outside the city’s walls,” Zachariah replied cheerily. “You can find all sorts of things lying about. Wood in forests, gems in the mountains, herbs in fields and clearings. It’s really quite self-explanatory.”

“Aye, because that’s what I’m here for. A stroll through some bloody botanical gardens. Thanks a mil’.” Keira muttered, turning on her heel and heading for the door.

Edited Thursday at 01:13 AM by Gildebrand

[Gildebrand 0]

Her HUD was useless. A polite, glowing mockery hanging in the corner of her vision like it actually gave a damn. No waypoint. No map pin. Just a blinking objective and the digital equivalent of a shrug. As she headed for the town’s gate, she passed them—the drifters. The dazed. The broken. Players wandered like ghosts through the streets, faces pale and blank, aimless as windblown leaves. Their eyes caught hers for a second—recognition not of identity, but of shared despair. Mirrors reflecting the same fracture.

Night was swallowing the edges of the sky. The air had teeth now, cold and sharp. Keira rubbed at her arms, pausing for just a second. Her fingers dragged across the rough sleeves of her coat, the chainmail underneath biting at her skin like it resented her touch. Folding her arms made the breastplate pinch at her ribs.

“Gods, who designs armour ye cannae breathe in?”

A thought bubbled up. Urgent. Almost panicked. But it slipped away before she could pin it. She shook her head, tugged at her sleeves again, and pressed on. Faster now. Movement gave her something to do, even if her legs didn’t know where they were going. But the faster she walked, the louder her thoughts grew. Something was wrong. Not in the world around her—but inside. Something not sitting right in her gut.

At the gate, she paused.

Deep breath.

"Ye’re not scared,” she told herself aloud. “Ye’re just tired.”

Another breath.

“Just a dream. A bad one. None o’ it’s real.”

The words didn’t comfort. They echoed—empty, dull. Like she’d said them too many times already.

It’s not real.
It’s not real.
Just wake up.
Just wake up.

But the wind was cold. The chainmail was uncomfortable. Her throat was dry. And her forehead was speckled in cold anxious sweat.
Dreams didn’t sting like this.

And still, she stepped forward. One boot over the threshold. Then another.

Out into the dark.

...

The road began to crumble beneath her feet, cobble giving way to gravel, gravel to earth. The squish of damp soil marked her passage as the town’s glow receded behind her—warmth and light falling away like the last safe thought before a nightmare fully sets in.

Still, she didn’t stop.

Towering spires of stone and earth loomed in the distance, like gods had dropped their spears and left them buried in the land. They shimmered under the stars—surreal.
She didn't stop to admire it or awe it, she clenched her jaw and kept walking.

“So this is it, then,” she muttered. “The big scary outside."

No hostile mobs in sight. No glowing herbs. No friendly quest markers waving her over like helpful greeters. Just grass. Dirt. Cold.
She crouched by a patch of weeds, squinting in the dark.

“Herbs in the grass, he said. Outside the city walls, he said. Simple errand, he said.”

She pawed at the ground like she might unearth something useful through sheer spite. Her fingers brushed over coarse stems and brittle leaves—nothing glowed, nothing sparkled, nothing screamed “quest item.” Her breath hitched in frustration. She was starting to sweat again—cold, clammy, anxious. She stood up fast, fists clenched at her sides.

“Come on, where the hell are they?”

Nothing answered. Not even the wind.
She turned in a slow circle, scanning the empty terrain. Just her, the stars, and the gnawing suspicion that this world was designed to watch her flounder.

“I swear, if this is the tutorial, this town is gonnae start havin' a bloody serious arson problem."

But she kept moving. She didn’t know what she was doing, or where, or why—but she knew one thing: she wasn’t going back empty-handed, not after all that, not when her skin still itched with that Mayor’s smug, scripted voice. Not when the only thing keeping her from screaming was motion. So she walked, searched, grumbled, and kicked a rock hard enough to trigger the "Immortal Object" flag. The night pressed in, but she was doing her best to press back.

 

 

Edited Thursday at 01:28 AM by Gildebrand

[Gildebrand 0]

The clouds parted as the full moon revealed itself, its light washed over the field, soft and pale, casting long shadows across the blades of grass.

That’s when she saw it.

Just one.

A single flower.

White and violet, delicate as spun glass in a sea of green. It didn’t belong here - a bit too elegant, too precise, and definitely too intentional. She stepped forward, the tall grass swaying and parting like it knew better than to resist. Behind her, it closed again without a sound—swallowing her tracks like she’d never been there at all. She crouched by the orchid, cautious without knowing why. Its petals shimmered slightly in the moonlight, like they were trying to impress her.

With a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding, she reached out and plucked it.
There was a soft whoosh, a dim blue glow, and then—gone.

<< The First Lesson >>
Find Zachariah ☑
Find 5 Tier One Quality Material (1/5) ☐

She blinked.
Sat back on her heels.

"...Well, I’ll be damned."

It wasn’t triumph she felt. It wasn’t even relief.

The system’s working. The rules are in place. The mechanics are real.
Which means the game is working.
Which means...

She shut her eyes, squeezing the thought out before it could bloom.

"No. No, not yet. Still could be a dream. Mad one, aye, but... still a dream."

She got to her feet slowly, brushing dirt from her knees. Her hands felt colder now. Lighter, somehow.
But not better.

"Right," she muttered, glancing around the field. "Four tae go."
 

Spoiler

Roll ID: 212184

Loot Roll - 11 Success

(OOC Note - I misclicked and hit roll dice instead of input box so no listed reason for the roll)

 

Edited Thursday at 01:38 AM by Gildebrand

[Gildebrand 0]

The night dragged on like it was enjoying itself.
An hour out from the town and Keira’s search had turned up exactly nothing - unless exhausted legs, damp socks, and mounting irritation counted as loot.
Each empty patch of grass stared back at her like it was mocking the effort.

The frustration had started as a flicker, then a simmer, and now it sat low in her gut like a kettle ready to boil. She exhaled through her nose and pressed on.
A flicker of movement in the distance gave her pause. She squinted. Shapes. Low to the ground, shuffling through the grass.

“Please don’t be goblins. Please don’t be ghosts.”

As she got closer, the silhouettes resolved into squat, stubby creatures - boars, it looked like. Pudgy little tusked bastards just milling about, snuffling through the dirt.
She didn’t know if they were hostile. She didn’t want to find out.
Keira gave them a wide berth and kept moving.

A strand of hair fell across her brow, slick with sweat despite the bite in the night air. She brushed it back with an irritated grunt.

“Ye’d think a nightmare this long would come with better weather.”

Her boots crunched on loose gravel as she veered northeast toward thicker treeline, before she crossed the threshold - movement.
A figure, not far now. Tall. Cloaked. Walking with a stride that said they had somewhere to be, unlike the rest of the ghosts she’d seen wandering aimlessly.
She picked up her pace.

“Oi! Hey!” she called out, jogging to catch up.

The figure stopped. Turned.
Man. Maybe mid-to-late twenties. His face was still lost in the gloom, but the edge of a greatsword glinted faintly from beneath his cloak.
Keira slowed as she neared, hands raised slightly, trying her best to appear non-threatening.

“Sorry tae bother ye like this,” she said, panting lightly. “I was wonderin’ if ye knew where I could find some herbs o’ sorts out here?”

He studied her for a moment. There was no hostility. Just… that same look. That glazed-over, shell-shocked stare she'd started to recognize in everyone.
“Yeah,” he said eventually. “There’s a clearing about a mile that way.” He gestured with a nod. “Saw a few herbs there earlier. Looks like a good spot. But I wasn’t looking for any.”
His voice was calm. Distant. Like he was talking from underwater.
“Good luck,” he added. “And be careful.”

“Aye,” Keira replied, nodding. “Thanks—and best tae ye.”

She turned and followed the direction he'd pointed, waving back without looking to see if he waved too.
She didn’t know exactly how far a mile was—not compared to kilometers anyway—but she figured she’d know the clearing when she saw it.
 

Spoiler

Roll ID: 212185

Loot Roll - 2 | Failure

 

Edited Thursday at 01:46 AM by Gildebrand

[Gildebrand 0]

She walked for a little under half an hour.

The open plains became a sparse grove, and just as quickly it began to dissolve into a looming treeline—oak and cedar, ancient and unbothered. Their limbs reached skyward like cathedral spires, the canopy swallowing the stars with a reverent hush. Moonlight filtered through in pieces, casting rippling shadows across the ground like ghosts too tired to haunt properly.
She stopped at the edge, facing the green-black wall of bark, bramble, and barely-contained tension.
Crickets shrilled into the stillness. Fireflies drifted through the trees, painting the dark with soft yellow smears like careless brushstrokes.

“How the hell am I supposed tae find anything in there?”

She squinted into the gloom. Her eyes did what they always did in the dark—betrayed her. The shadows danced just wrong enough to make her stomach turn, flitting and morphing, too quick to catch, too real to ignore.

“It’s too bloody dark.”
She let out a long breath, the kind that’s half frustration, half prayer.
“Just find the clearin’. It'll be brighter there. Hopefully.”

She stepped past the tree line.

And the atmosphere changed, it was like stepping underwater. The forest swallowed the outside world in a single gulp—sound, temperature, the pressure dropped. The silence got louder.The ground squelched beneath her boots. Branches creaked overhead like something shifting just out of sight. Leaves rustled—not in the breeze, but as if they were whispering to each other about her.
Something swooped overhead—silent. Big. The glint of talons, a flash of feathers, and then a high-pitched squeak swallowed by the dark.

"Oh great, just fantastic."

Spoiler

Roll ID: 212186

Loot Roll - 5 | Failure

 

Edited Thursday at 02:03 AM by Gildebrand

[Gildebrand 0]

Keira stumbled through the trees, boots dragging more than walking now, her movements all elbows and inertia. Her steps hit the forest floor haphazardly, like she was playing drunk hopscotch with herself. The darkness had teeth, and it was gnawing at her focus, bit by bit.

Her eyes blurred at the edges, no matter how wide she tried to keep them. Leaves, shadows, ground—all of it melting into one indistinct smear of green-black nonsense. Somewhere back there, she’d passed a flower. A real one. Glowing slightly.

She didn’t see it.

Didn’t even clock the color.

She just walked straight past it.

Because right now, keeping her legs moving was the only thing on her mind.

One foot. Then the other.

Breathe in. Don’t fall.

Then—splash.

“What the f—?!”

The cold hit first, an icy current surging around her ankles like the ground had betrayed her. Her foot slipped on a wet stone. Her balance scattered like marbles. Arms flailed, chainmail groaned, and she toppled back onto the bank with a solid, graceless thud.

She lay there for a moment, staring up at the canopy.

Breathing hard.

Water soaking into the back of her coat. Mud in her gloves. Cold chewing at her spine.

“Brilliant.”

She sat up slowly, arms trembling slightly with the effort.

The stream gurgled beside her—mocking her, probably.

If I didn’t hear or see a whole bloody stream, how the hell am I gonna find a bloody herb the size of a pint glass?”

A branch creaked somewhere in the dark.

A rustle.

She froze.

And what if something finds me first?

Her eyes scanned the forest—shadows, nothing but shadows. But they seemed closer now. More curious.

She got to her feet, limbs sluggish, joints stiff. The shock of cold had jolted her awake—but not in a helpful way. More like a slap that left a bruise.

“Right. No more stumblin’ about like a drunk deer.”

She turned—back the way she thought she came.

Southwest. Maybe.

She took a few strides forward, her boots squelching.
Then stopped.

“...Wait.”
She turned slowly, looked behind her.
The stream ran east to west, or maybe west to east. Trees looked the same in every direction. The fireflies were no help, and the moon was behind clouds again.
“Which way did I come from again?”

Her stomach twisted. Not in fear, not yet, but rather in disorientation. That quiet panic that starts at the back of your mind and creeps forward like fog under a door.

“Oh, for feck’s sake…”

 

 

Spoiler

Roll ID: 212200

Loot Roll - 2 | Failure

 

Edited Thursday at 02:05 AM by Gildebrand

[Gildebrand 0]

After a moment, she stood. Her legs protested. Her boots squelched. Her pride was in tatters. She shook her arms out, flinging droplets like curses into the air.
She’d picked a direction at random, figuring straight lines were a lie but better than standing still. Ten minutes in—more stumbling than striding—she broke through a dense thicket and found herself staring into a moonlit clearing.

“Huh, well that’s convenient.”

A patch of open ground, tucked deep in the forest like something had carved it out just for her. Pale moonlight spilled over it without interruption, pooling across the rocks and tall grass like milk.
She exhaled—relief, mostly. And suspicion. Her boots squelched slightly as she stepped forward, soft earth sucking at her heels. The clearing looked empty at first—just a scatter of rocks and boulders of various sizes, some no bigger than a loaf of bread, others large enough to park a carriage on. All weathered and pockmarked like they’d been here since alpha testing.
Still, there was a certain beauty to it. Harsh. Untouched.

“Right. In, out, done. No sightseeing.”

She got to work.
She flipped small stones, poked through bushes, ran her fingers through tall grass hoping something would glow at her in apology. Eventually, she spotted a smear of dark green moss clinging to the side of one of the larger boulders. She knelt, grabbed a smaller rock, and scraped.

Whoosh.
The moss vanished in a gentle flash of blue light.
 

 << The First Lesson >>

  Find Zachariah ☑
  Acquire Tier One Quality Materials (2/5) ☐
 

“Thrilling.”

She sighed and slumped onto a flat stone near the edge of the clearing, facing a gnarled tree that looked like it had opinions about her life choices. Her arms hung loose. She pinched the bridge of her nose and dragged her hand down her face in sheer, exhausted contempt for the last hour of her existence.

“All that for one clump of moss. Grand.”

She was cold. Hungry. Her legs ached. Her boots were damp, and worst of all—she still hadn’t woken up. 
She leaned back, flopping fully onto the boulder with her feet dangling a few centimeters above the ground, tall grass tickling the soles of her boots.
Above her, the stars blinked.
She closed her eyes.
Just for a second.

Spoiler

Roll ID: 212219

Loot Roll - 19 | Success!

 

Edited Thursday at 02:08 AM by Gildebrand

[Gildebrand 0]

She woke with a jolt.

Neck stiff. Back sore. A thin line of drool cooling on her chin.

“Classy,” she muttered, wiping her mouth with the back of her glove.

The sky was still dark, but different now - blacker, heavier. The kind of dark that didn’t just fall but settled. Her HUD blinked softly in the corner of her vision, offering her the time like it was proud of itself.

 [2:40 AM]

She blinked again.

“Wait... two-forty?”

Her stomach dropped.

She had fallen asleep.

Inside a game.

In the middle of a death trap.

She shot upright, legs swinging off the rock, breath caught halfway between her ribs and her throat.

“People don’t sleep in dreams,” she said aloud.

The words hovered for a moment. Empty.

No answer. Not even a breeze.

The night didn’t disagree.

She rubbed at her eyes, hard. Dug her fingers into her scalp like maybe she’d wake up if she just applied enough pressure to the right part of her brain. But the cold was still there. The ache in her legs. The mud still crusted on her boots.

She was still here.

Still stuck.

Still nowhere close to done.

“Right. Fine. Grand.”

Her voice was brittle. A little too loud. Like she was performing sanity for the trees.

She stood. Shook out her arms. Adjusted her coat.

“I need three more. Just three.”

Forward was the only direction left.

Spoiler

Roll ID: 212221

Loot Roll - 3 | Failure

 

Edited Thursday at 02:15 AM by Gildebrand

[Gildebrand 0]

The trees stretched ahead like ribs in a giant’s cage, crooked and creaking in the windless dark. Keira pushed through underbrush that snagged at her coat like it was trying to talk her out of it. Her breath fogged in front of her. Everything felt heavier now, even the moonlight.

But her eyes had adjusted, at least a little. Shapes resolved more clearly. Shadows stayed put. Mostly.

She walked in tense silence for another ten minutes - no stream, no fireflies, no death boars, and then she saw it.

A flicker of silver-green.

It was small. Low to the ground. Half-hidden by a fallen branch, nestled against the exposed root of a gnarled tree.

She crouched slowly, this game's uncanny version of discomfort shot up her legs from all the walking and strain.

A cluster of fungus. Circular. Pale like ash, but pulsing faintly at the edges with that familiar digital shimmer. Not glowing - just responsive.

She reached out.

“Please.."

She plucked it. A soft whoosh. A brief blue flash.

  << The First Lesson >>
  Find Zachariah ☑
  Find Tier One Quality Materials (3/5) ☐

Keira let out a long breath—half relief, half disbelief.

“Alright. That’s three.”

Her fingers curled around the sample like it might vanish again.

She didn’t smile. But she didn’t swear either.

That felt close enough to progress.

 

Spoiler

Roll ID: 212273

Loot Roll - 11 | Success!

 

Edited Thursday at 02:19 AM by Gildebrand

[Gildebrand 0]

She didn’t linger.

Pocketed the fungus, adjusted the strap of her gear, and pushed deeper into the trees.

The air was damper here. The bark on the trees turned slick, blackened by time or rain—or just aesthetic design choices by whatever sick bastard coded this place. Her boots squelched against layers of moss and wet leaves. Somewhere in the distance, an owl hooted, low and hollow.

She ignored it.

The ground dipped slightly, and soon the forest floor gave way to a shallow ravine. The slope was gentle, but the footing was treacherous—loose soil and hidden roots.

She slid a few feet on instinct, half-skidding to a stop near a tangle of rocks and undergrowth.

Then she saw it.

Nestled under the twisted fingers of a bramble bush, just beside a slanted stone: a stem of crimson-red berries.

They shimmered faintly. Like they were holding their breath.

Keira eyed them with suspicion.

“Ye gonna bite me, or are we playin’ nice?”

No response. Good.

She pulled her dagger—short, dull, but serviceable—and used it to nudge the branch aside, slicing clean through a few of the thorns in the process.

With her other hand, she reached in carefully, snapped the berries free at the base.

Whoosh.
Soft blue light. Gone.

  << The First Lesson >>
  Find Zachariah ☑
  Find Tier One Quality Materials (4/5) ☐

“One more.”

She let the bush fall back into place and stood slowly, her knees cracking in protest.

The finish line was close.

She could feel it.

Spoiler

Roll ID: 212274

Loot Roll - 14 | Success!

 

Edited Thursday at 02:22 AM by Gildebrand

[Gildebrand 0]

She moved uphill again, weaving through narrow trees that sloped into one another like drunks trying to stand politely. Her breath came hard, not from exhaustion, but from sheer bloody impatience. Her shoulders ached, her calves burned, and her boots had soaked through hours ago.

But then - there it was.

A low tree, bent slightly from age or weather, branches thick with leaves and dotted with small golden fruit, glowing faintly under the moonlight. About the size of apples, speckled with green, each one pulsing with that telltale artificial shimmer.

She stopped beneath it, tilted her head, squinted.

“Of course ye’re up there.”

She tried jumping. Twice.

The first time, her fingers brushed a leaf. The second time, she barely left the ground.

“Right. Climb it is.”

The bark was rough, flaky, and uncooperative. She slung her dagger, gripped a low branch, and hoisted herself up. Got a foot wedged. Pulled again.

And then—

CRACK.

The branch snapped. Her boot slipped. The world lurched.

“Sh-!”

She hit the ground with a thud and a wet squelch, knocking the wind out of her as she landed flat on her back in a patch of half-rotted leaves.

She lay there a moment, staring up at the smug little fruit still swaying above her like it was mocking her.

“Ye absolute bastard.”

She groaned, sat up slowly, rubbing her ribs.

Not broken. Probably.

“Fine. Round two.”

Because she was getting that fruit.

Or she was setting the whole bloody tree on fire.

 

Spoiler

Roll ID: 212275

Loot Roll - 2 Fail

 

Edited Thursday at 02:27 AM by Gildebrand

[Gildebrand 0]

She rolled to her knees, spat a leaf out of her mouth, and glared up at the tree like it had insulted her family.

The fruit swayed again in the breeze—mocking her.

Keira backed up a step, stretched her arms overhead like it might help, and muttered a quiet curse for every game designer who thought vertical level design was cute.

This time, she tried a running start.

Jumped.
Grabbed a higher branch.
Caught it for exactly one glorious second... before her grip slipped on moss-slick bark and-

“Oh fer f-”

She crashed down a second time, this time flat on her stomach, which at least made a change from the last fall. The breath wheezed out of her in one long, undignified “ooof.”

The fruit above her didn’t move. Just hung there, quietly smug.

She rolled onto her back, limbs splayed.

“I hope yer poisonous,” she muttered to the tree, voice hoarse. “I hope whatever NPC I hand ye to dies a horrible scripted death and I get to watch the whole bloody thing.”

Her back ached. Her shoulder throbbed. Her pride was now somewhere between pulped and fermented.

She sat up again, slower this time, hair stuck to her face with sweat and fury.

“One more try. One. Then I’m choppin’ ye down, fruit an’ all.”

The tree, tragically, did not care.

 

Spoiler

Dice ID: 243556 Loot: 6 Fail

 

Edited Thursday at 11:28 PM by Gildebrand

[Gildebrand 0]

She sat there for a moment longer, glaring up at the golden fruit like it owed her rent. Her breath still came in short bursts. Her ribs protested. One of her boots had started to rub raw against her heel and now every movement sang a little song of you’re not built for this.

“Just one more...” she muttered.

She rolled to her feet. Hands on her knees. Then pushed herself up, one painful vertebrae at a time. She squinted at the tree, this time, she didn’t go for a running jump or try to scramble up the bark. She circled it. Found a thicker root near the back - just high enough to step onto and use for leverage.

She stepped up, braced herself against the trunk, reached upward... her fingers just barely brushing the fruit. Closer. She rose onto the balls of her feet. Stretched. Grasped. Pulled. It came loose with a soft snap - clean, without fuss. No branch broke. No dramatic fall. Just her, standing there, the fruit in her hand. There was a brief shimmer, a quiet whoosh, and the fruit dissolved in a pale blue glow as the soft ping of the quest updating rang in dark.

<< The First Lesson >>

Find Zachariah ☑
Find 5 Tier One Materials ☑
Return to Zachariah ☐

Keira stared at the empty air where it had been, then she laughed, sharp and short but without a doubt exasperated. She leaned against the old tree, panting lightly.

“Right then. Let’s go pay the old man a visit.”

 

Spoiler

Dice: 243561 | Loot: 16 Success!

 

Edited Thursday at 11:29 PM by Gildebrand

[Gildebrand 0]

She turned and started the trek back through the underbrush, retracing her steps—or trying to. The forest didn’t look the same in reverse. Shadows twisted new directions, roots she could’ve sworn she hadn’t seen before now reached across the path like tripwires. Every branch seemed more brittle. Every breeze colder.

The faint triumph of the fruit faded fast. Her breath misted in front of her with every step, and the damp chill of her soaked clothes had settled into her bones. The occasional snap of a twig or rustle in the brush kept her alert, but nothing attacked. No mobs. No sudden violence. Just her and the night and the long, slow burn of endurance.

“Should’ve asked that lad for a torch,” she muttered.

The silence didn’t disagree.
Time dragged its heels. Her legs did too.

At some point she stopped keeping track of distance. Instead, she counted her footsteps between rests.
One hundred, then pause. Another hundred. Lean against a tree. Crack her neck. Keep going.

Her thoughts wandered in the silence. She thought about the first day she logged in - how bright everything had seemed, how excited she was.
She thought about how long ago that felt now, how quickly everything changed in just under... what, twelve hours now?

The horizon began to glow. Not sunrise - torchlight.
Flickering warm halos cast against stone.

She crested the last hill and there it was: the outer gates of town, flanked by NPC guards with halberds and scripted stares.

She slowed. Not from awe, but from cautious relief. Through the gates, Zachariah waited.
Probably still sipping whatever abomination he brewed in a mug.
She sighed, rolled her shoulders, and walked on.