Death. God knows all too much about death,decay and the inert. To entertain his will, I must live. However, I did not want to open my eyes and see the face of the world. Still, my eyes opened like a creaked door and all I could see was a wooden wall in front of me, as I lay on my side. Staring for a while I was somewhat relieved at seeing the cabin, for I was convinced I was murdered. I sat up and I let the looming curtain of shame wash over me. It was an odd shame, yet not one totally unknown to me. It was that one after a bender alone in the appartment ending it with playing poker online, cocaine and an arduous talk in the mirror. The one where you know that the bender is nothing but a stab in the dark hoping to find something. The comforting thing about the place was the smell of an old cabin and the wet rain outside which cleared away the codwebs somewhat. The last thing I had seen was Xelith, the french woman who played WanderX. She, it was her who saved me, or tried to stop me from bleeding. It was her I had seen last within the game as the illussion of death convinced my mind of the matter. She had become the last thing I had seen. The depths of her peculiarity were masked by her lingering beauty. She was a gothic mystery. One of those women that drink tea in cafes alone. I probably should’ve tried and contact her.

  It's hard to discern what exactly happens when multiple realities hit you at the same time. You know that effect when you wake up from a dream,but you're still completely clinging to whatever narrative sprang from it? Imagine having a cocktail of those dreams combined including your sense of time. That's how I felt as I arose from the game. There was a fog abound and the only way I could visualize myself was by eying me from the third person perspective. Jake sat up from the madness. Jake felt the cold sweat on his sheets. Jake smelled the rancid stench of a body uncared for over the course of days probably. The worst was the thirst, however. He could smell water. As he got up he hurried towards the sink in the bathroom and drank from it. Lord, lord ,lord I need to get my act together. I forgot to check the mail from my tutor, that's when I started descending, and I was too old, no one gave a fuck. And now,I was held within the iron grip of old men aware of the labyrinth. I was aware I was old.

  Jake looked at myself in the mirror and we both waved. I could feel the darkness. He was fake, but I wasn't sure whether all of this was as real as possible. Jake distanced himself from the mirage and re-entered the safe zone. The cabin was safe. As he looked around he saw an old tape recording device on the mattress where Alyx had lain. Where was she? Maybe she went out into the fog. Not knowing what to do exactly, Jake pressed play on the device.

  'Jake listen to me, you died in WanderX. Because this is such an impactful event, your mind created pathways into the concept of ego-death,which cannot function into the rpg. The mind clings to the concept of living and conceives of a rationale to stay alive, but as you disconnect you actually are alive. It's like a haunted trip that you are in,which can only be solved by finding an artist that plays WanderX. The caviat however is that you need red miasma in the real world,so that you can mine pareidolium in WanderX. Red miasma are pockets of your own real world hallucinations. You need those to enter the game,and pareidolium needs to be given to the artist through a miasmic tunnel. Whatever you do Jake: do not kill yourself. Head towards the city and identify the scared. Wage war against your fears by following the wisdom of emptiness. Come find me, I'm going to be taken by the Bureau my husband works at,but ingame I was taken to Farenheim. I'll meet you there ok? Just....focus on a routine....they're coming. If you're scared, sing, sit in a lotus position and sing, think of a holy figure.....’

  ‘A holy figure?’ He thought. ‘Jesus or something.’

  I walked outside of the cottage only to find that the car, which neared a truck in size was still there. I hated shifting gears and filling gas in the tank. After being stabbed in Wander X, the principles of my fears still eluded me. But they took shapes, like words in a dream. Sneakily, demons hiding underneath flowers. They watch me, yes. Fear did not overcome me. It watched me. At the end of it all, in the deepest hole in which I kept sinking. Fears were the only thing that truly desired me. I was a nobody, all the dreams and hopes my peers worked for, I did not attain. I was too addicted to escapism, yearned too much for being alone. And here I was, alone in the forest. The starting of the car got me out of my thoughts.

  The dusk cast over the hills watched like a translucent curtain. The air and slithers of voluptuous orange clouds enlightened the dark road ahead of me. Pangs of worry instilled within me as I realized I was alone on the road for far, far too long. The dusk of misty orange blocked the entirety of my view making me stop the car. The hues of orange air turned a crimson blood mist.

  This could be it I thought. The only solution to this sad tale.

  People like me are fragile, when they forget who they are. It follows an avatar of bravado, an incline that narrows the chest when alone. What was I without her? Lost and afraid. Have you ever had that idea that something just doesn't add up when making a puzzle? That's the feeling man, constantly. Darkness engulfed the car. But a soft yellow could be felt on the distance. A marker of relief, a signal for respite. The weird little brother of something. A stillborn purpose. There was the faint taste of real, but the smell of flowers was gone. A decay of the real.

  I exited the car and walked towards the faint yellow. It took me down a pathway which had a small creek running towards the lake. Alongside the ramp, which went upwards, there were cobwebs and the red miasma which could be plucked. This was dangerous though. I had to go back to the motel to function somewhat. Or did I have to take the chance, risk it all? Was this a heroic tale or a tragedy?

  Returning to the motel went smoothly. I closed the car door and went straight to my room. I could see the receptionist sitting playing games on her computer. I shut the door and went to sleep.

  I woke up at around 7 pm plunging my head into the sink. I was very dehydrated,so...anyway, washed up, got dressed and went out to eat something. Phone,keys,passport. My essentials were all there. I had become a bum, of that there was no question. I walked past a shop and noticed something odd. Yes, there was no doubt,no mirage,no madness. I looked slimmer. My career ended at university. My body looked frail. But there was that kid-like fascination which what I wanted to become. A hero...a warrior of light. Was there truly anything bad about such a goal?

  Could I not exploit this right here, right now?

  Sleep at 10, wake up at 5:30. Exercise,read,eat and meet the sun. I could do it. Who would even care? Read up on heroes, be a hero, play the hero repeat. Why in the fuck .....not? Tons of reasons, yet all veered towards that desire. I was this guy in wanderX. I saw what it felt like to be strong. It felt as if on cocaine from the body itself.

  So I started. I woke up at 530 am by simply outsourcing my laziness, daydreaming and overall dullness. Splashed water on my face and headed towards my first exercise session. The motel had a small gym offering kettlebell, a dumbbell,a yoga mat and even a barbell. Just enough for a headstart. The kettlebell gave me a sense of phantom muscle fibres heralding from Pandarpha in wanderX. Training with these would set up a base. Besides, it would advance my practice with one of those maces I once saw. I started simple. 3 sets of 8 reps for everything I did. Pushups, situps, kettlebell squats, kettlebell halos, kettlebell swings and a squat followed by lifting the kettlebell upwards in the sky. I simply mimicked what felt right from wielding the swords and axes from the game.

  Despite my general lack of purpose in life. I had no right to be this sad, when others clearly suffered worse. Alyx, for all intents and purposes was going through a fucking divorce in the midst of her 30s. Who knows what was going on? I was going to be a solution to her problems, or at least try somewhat.

  I hit a block, the block of phantom death which set the parameters of the secret room in my head. To survive in this barbarian world, I had to strike fear into my enemies and be ready to kill. If I killed a creature, the intent would be murder. Same for players. My motivation for killing players should stem from that meaner side of mine. I could make this work.

  Yet, I was but a husk. A shadow of the man I once was. While I could find the sources of nostalgia and repair the damage done, it might as well have meant that I ought to reinvent myself. The residue of a lost soul still holds that power of revival, that phoenix which lends the inner I wings, onto new pastures. An office clerk with deviant tendencies. A Biker who plays games? These were all attainable goals.

  With renewed bravado or sheer desperation, I returned to the lake which had red miasma. I put on the glasses and re-entered WanderX.

  The soft cool rustle of the wind caressed my face as I looked down upon a moss green dale. Patches of snow and ice covered the shadows of the hills and swards of yellow flowers welcomed many a wanderer. I was still alive after being stabbed. The treatment of me as a ragdoll suffused in itself the horror of that moment. Reminiscing made me fearful, yet curious. How did I wake up again? Was I still Pandarpha, or had something changed?

  What lengths did life had to go through to make me change? I was stabbed to death in a virtual world, I had failed. As with many facettes in life, this was another wing of my tryptich. That of the jester, the fool. I led myself fall down in the grass and close my eyes. There was something here, that I had not felt in the game before or in my own life for that matter. Stillness, the whispers of the wind giving me pause on adventure. I took a big gulp of air and let it out, and for a time, I was content and happy. The gloomy plains of my mind stretched onwards, but all in all, I was granted a sense of adventure. I opened my eyes, shifted to my side and rested my elbow on the grass and looked about. The mountain, from a pareidolized state, took on the shape of a bear.

  The grass swirled in the permanent gush of cool mountain wind, I shifted towards my side only to be met with a giant of man. He had long bright blonde hair and sharp hawklike features on his face. In all aspects, he was truly, deeply,indeed, spiritually, my brother.

  'Have you listened to the bear?' he asked.

  'You mean the mountain?'

  'Hmmm'

  'The mountain speaks?'

  'If you truly listen'

  'Wait, who are you?'

  'I am one of your shield brothers, we listen to the wisdom of the land.'

  'How...what am I...I was dead' I managed.

  My shieldbrother slowly nodded.

  'Only to live'

  'I don't understand....I don't understand'

  The brother sat next to me as we overlooked the vale.

  'You are a Gunderhen sage. That means you take care of traversal between the moons of the valley. Their barges,beasts and bots navigate through the property of chrono-magic. To safely do this without time dilation or other cosmic displacement, we fight and caress the lands and the trees that allow for life to traverse.

  Trees allow for traverse?

  This world, this...secondary, or tertiary realm seems to pose the idea that life's goal is to spread, take over all lifeless things. So, by the might of the sequence, it fights a war and muses the hearth.

  What are you in Gunderhen? He asked.

  Nothing, I've never been.

  So it befalls upon me to guide you? Very well, I shall do so. Why don't you tell me what happened?

  Alright....I uhh, logged into WanderX, spawned in Xarsplint with my friend Bellwitch. We had to find a circlet of sorts to find Garth, some guy that had saved us. The innkeeper at the dale urged us to rid the land of a ruling coven of witches. We encountered a mothtower,which was a dungeon infested with rat-like cultists. There we were joined by a firewitch called Xelith.Afterwards, Bellwitch received some message from her circlet, we then logged of for a while, I returned and met up with Markus Knotter, my master, who wanted to test our strength, then I encountered a sort of, mage tower or cavern, only to find a mech atop it. Fought it, piloted it and arrived at the fortress where the witch resided who then stabbed me and killed me. Alex disappeared and was captured. The last thing I saw, was our companion Xelith looking at me. Then I woke up here.

  ‘What use are stories if they do not press forwards? I must bring you to my Jarl who will tell you what you have to do brother in order to return to the Valley. ‘

  We made for a hall amidst snowy mountaints. The sight of late winter and early spring felt as if my story within the game, was all but over. It seemed I didn’t have to start over or anything, it felt like I had another chance.

  We reached a hall that had a long pitfire in the middle. All around sat broad looking men that beared resemblance to my own family. They instilled in the gaze of their eyes a sense of ancestry and legacy within my own.

  Would my ancestors look kind upon me if they saw me in the real world? How was a game able to tap into this? Or were games the only thing still hearkening the ways of old?

  While I was emboldened by the sight of my brothers a modicum of humility still remained. I was the younger, the benjamin, the whelp. I didn’t know anything of this place. Yet I was regarded in the depths of my veins by the figure sitting atop the throne at the far end of the mead hall. Adorned with gold and silver, the jarl sat. A grand white beard spread across his entire body and his hair looked like silver. His eyes had a clarity of mountain water.

  ‘Look my men, my heroes my kin who enters our domain? Who enters the sanctum betwixt?’ The lord asked.

  ‘It is none other than heaven’s richest warden. The future fold father of fire mighty!’

  ‘It is our Pandarpha!’ A shieldbrother shouted.

  ‘Jau, but in this realm, let his name be Uppe och almaidjan och Pan.’

  ‘A gift fort his newly arrived warrior, maidens. Bring me the Horn of Helmstone.’

  Three maidens of blonde hair and blue eyes came from behind the pillars in the back offering me a horn. It felt like it was made from the bark of a tree, yet within I could see stained glass runes of blue and dark green. I held it aloft, wound in the light of the halls in the brightest of beams.

  From within words flowed out of me.

  ‘Och, my horn, battle standard and token covered in gold and gems which stand fair as light meets hearth ‘

  ‘How may I serve thee and the triumph-tree of kings?

  The jarl bellowed out a long deep laughter.

  ‘Och Uppe, you are a Gunderhen sage, but also a skald for we all hear your spirit through the tongue. You will join the war against the skullcarver tribe. As a reward, I shall offer you Kaley Nova. She is also a gunderhen sage, who will take you back to the Valley of wanderers and return you to life.

  ‘I shall do as you ask my jarl’ I said. My shieldbrothers looked at me and stood up, joining me outside the hall. Horses were readied and together we rode out.

  We reached the dale where a small band or makeshift army was waiting for us, these must have been the skullcarvers we had to quell. The battle had started.

  Battle starts.

  I was strong and brave as I faced my opponent. I looked up the sky as the clouds gathered like barges of mist.

  ‘Yes brother of blood. Let this song hew the shape of battles to come.’

  Command! Hearken and come then death!.

  My battle-axe had given way to the song. As I bellowed my voice I could see her as a Spectre on the horizon. Encouraging me to battle, to fight, to press on.

  Brothers stood next to me as I feared no champion, I merely pulverized them. One of the brothers held a book of beasts. A beast of the Mosgrot stood in spirit form and we were ready.

  Our men had swords,axes,spears and horned helmets. Also, ripped to a fault like Rugby players. Some regiment of swordsmen sat upon horseback. They were even wielding curved blades.

  A mammoth seer of ruh stood next to me,and I was summoned atop his mighty wise beast. We rode on the giant mammoth towards the enemy. Our lost Ill omened brethren who had strayed the path and gave ear to irrational behaviour neared our army as we all charged in on one another. Axemen sat upon horseback and threw their weapons at the enemy. We neared the assailants as I braced for impact. The mammoth roared from the depths of his being. As I ordered my tribe through shout and song

  ‘Rue this day of doom. Let the harp be silent and the horn soar. Infuse our battlecry!’

  I blew the horn and the men roared in strenght and purpose. The enemy backed away in fear.

  We followed their infantry and the tusks of the mammoth destroyed them. We ran the cowards down. I jumped off and made for one of my shieldbrothers who was wounded. The sky hued dark yellow and the white snow glistened in the armor of my enemy commander. I fought between the attacks of the mammoth behind me as I was surrounded by three barbarians of the skull-carver tribe.

  Everything had to die.

  If I was to strike fear into my enemies, it was important to press on. Therefore, I made sure I alligned the three enemies into a single line, causing them to stand behind one another so I could focus on one at a time.

  Something had definitely changed within the sanctum betwixt. I felt like I just knew things instinctively. In many ways, the gunderhen culture including its enemies felt like it had always remained within the cervices of my mind. I knew the first skullcarver barbarian would go for a heavy attack. Therefore, I had opted for a light attack. Yet, my confidence did not translate onto the battlefield. A light attack still meant it needed some force behind it. I was just not acquainted with that concept at all. Even my reflexes had waned as the barbarian in front of me struck with a heavy attack. I could see a pang of fear in the face of the enemy. As he struck I managed to get a hold of the haft of his axe to push him back. I circled around him taken into account the other two surrounding barbarians. Kaley, the shieldmaiden had appeared and struck at the third barbarian. All I could see was the ember of her hair in the background. I focused on the barbarian once again who appear somewhat fatiqued of my counter as I struck him heavily this time. I bellowed a skald shout.

  ‘You are not even worthy of wergyld. To be stated a manprice for such a vile creature as you!’ I had unlocked a memory of wergild. Somewhere in my studies I had retained the knowledge. What was happening?

  The barbarian in front of me merely frowned as he tried to shield himself for the uncoming attack I was planning. Even with his guard up, he had no way to defend himself as my axe hewed downwards on him. I still had a battlecard in my inventory that would double the damage resulting in 22 slashing damage. The redhead had defeated the third one and a band of other comrades had overpowered the second one. Kaley, the redheaded shieldmaiden came prowling from behind. The barbarian struck me once again, this time it was another heavy attack and it seemed he was unfazed by his bleeding shoulder. If anything, he became emboldened by it. Still, he too had become fatiqued by the onset of combat and he didn’t manage to strike me. With Kaley behind him, I had an opportunity to flank him. She stalked like a cat and I attempted to mimic her movements, going for a lighter attack. While he tried to read my movements, he failed to apprehend my surprising quickness. I struck him at the same time as Kaley did. I struck him across the belly as Kaley pierced him in the back. I could see his eyes widen. In a sweeping motion he lay down on the snow, his blood piercing through the nullification of smell due to the cold.

  ‘Battle-death has taken you’ I said as I struck him at the foot from a distance, then as I saw the life removed from him, I closed the deal by hacking away at his head. Such was the fate of any who would dare stand before me.

  ‘Enough Uppe’ Kaley said. I looked up as I saw the woman. She was tall, curved and too had bright green eyes together with fiery red hair. She sheathed her weapon as the battle seemingly had ceased.

  We were victorious and I had unlocked a new skill. The aqua menu appeared in front of my face.

  Congratulations, you have now unlocked the Barbarian/Skald class on the gunderhen sage template. Your geneclass is almost complete. Please rearrange your points during your next session.

  As we returned to the halls hammered with gold and silver the Jarl looked at us in approving fashion. Beer, dance and women surrounded me, Kaley and my shield brothers as we cheered at the glory of battle. In the evening we chanted one song of sorrow and at night, time carved an opportune spell of reflection.

  ‘Come, the save chrystal is over there. You can go back to your world and log back in. If you give me that helmstone horn I can resurrect you on the server of the Valley.’ Kaley said.

  ‘Why are you doing this?’ I asked.

  ‘You show purpose, you’re not like other man who simply hunt for pleasure.’ She answered.

  I almost cried at the compliment.

  ‘I don’t even know what this helmstone horn is, how am I worthy if I do not know things? ‘

  ‘To be worthy triumphs reason. Reflect in your own realm, prepare there and then come back.’

  I logged off, with even more questions than answers