Right as I was about to stumble out of the woods a sudden chime in my head rang out.

Defeated four starving wolves, estimating exp gain from encounter and its factors.

Oh, right I had made it my default to having the system notify me only in perceived safe areas. Guess I should keep it like that or maybe to activate when there are no more enemies left around me? Nah Just keep it so that I get it when I’m safe should be fine.

Increased exp gain by slight margins for the following, improvisation of environment and gear and the low chance at survival.

Huh? Oh is the system just messing with me now? Or insulting me?

Congratulations! Level gained! Skill point gained!

Death squire lvl. -9 > lvl. -8 !

Necromancer lvl. -9 > lvl. -8

Shadowmancer lvl. -9 > lvl. -8

Ok… maybe just messing with me. let’s take a look at the available skills.

Current skill points available: 1 Current skills available to choose: 3

Skill: Water movement (Aids in moving within water and read currents when moving.)

Skill: Tracking (Allows the user to track and read tracks around him.)

Skill: Pelt use (Used to aid user when using pelts as armour or shields.)

Jubb, it’s insulting me, definitely.

With a groan, I decided to simply save the skill point and closed it all. “Pelt use.” I muttered in a huff as I staggered towards Deepguards gates. My battered body begging me to find a nice soft bed after a nice warm bath.

I might have the regeneration skill but I was certain that I would have my wounds heal maybe tomorrow at the earliest.

As I brought up one hand to shade my eyes from the sun and see the gate’s a bit better I noticed I still had defensive carapace and bone claws active. Sucking in my teeth over my thoughtlessness, I deactivated both abilities and I suddenly felt what little strength I had diminished just a little more.

I think defensive carapace might have been helping to support me? If so then it had some interesting uses outside of combat. I’d just have to see if it enveloped just my skin or over my clothing or armour when I had it activated. Well, that’s a thing to test at a later date.

Slowly I began to limp towards the gates, the fur still wrapped around my left arm as I leaned on the stick. Almost to the point of breaking it.

I felt exhausted as I when I had reached only about halfway through the hundred or so meters that the town had deforested around it. My wounds catching up with me right as I stumbled over and fell, my vision going dark.

Bertie yawned out of boredom. After being around for gate watch for almost ten hours, with the only thing happening really was a small pack of starving wolves trying to attack but the archers took care of that. Then, of course, there was trader Khalid arriving for a visit.

The trader was most likely the only real event of the month. Bertie hopped that Khalid remembered the gift he had asked him to get for him. He hoped Aya would accept it. The girl he had been pining for, for almost two years now.

While Nicholas chatted and checked his carriage as routine demanded. Bertie petted one of the horses before looking out to the clearing around the town, that’s when he spotted it. A Figure stumbling out of the forest.

He had to do a little double-take as he looked at the haggard appearance of the man.

Thick messy black hair that reached down to the man’s lower chest, a pale skinned chest crisscrossed with claw and bite wounds. Wearing tattered linen pants that should by all means not even to be used by vagrants. His left arm wrapped up in a rather thick dark brown fur that seemed to make his arm almost the size of a small barrel.

Leaning against a gnarled stick which suddenly snapped in half when the man had reached the halfway point to the town. Falling over and not moving afterwards.

Bertie stared slack-jawed at that before Olive shouted down at him from the parapet. “Hey, Bertie… Did you see that too? I’m not losing my mind am I?” She asked as she looked down at Bertie and then back out at the man.

“Nothing interesting ever happens here.” Bertie muttered, a saying Nicholas always said when bored out of his mind. Looking towards the aforementioned guard, he saw that the man was still chatting amiably with Khalid.

“Hey Nick! Get a cart and another guard. Send a runner to the doctor too!” He shouted right as he began to run towards the fallen man.

It seemed to take Nicholas a few long seconds to get his brain into gear, but once he followed where Bertie was running towards, he started running into the town.

Shaking his head a little Bertie made his way to the fallen man. Stopping short when he was maybe ten or so paces away from the man. “An elf?” He asked the air as he noticed the ears poking out from the man’s messy hair. Looking the man over again he had to suck in his teeth at the sight. The man had been mauled. “How’d you survive?” He asked the unconscious man as he kneeled next to him.

A few minutes later Nicholas and Olive arrived with a cart and the three carefully put the wounded man into it. “Has old man Campbell been notified?” Olive asked Nicholas who nodded as he and Bertie began drawing the cart while Olive made sure to look after the wounded elf.

Another few minutes later the man was bandaged up and lying still on a bed at the doctor's house. “Strange.” Old man Campbell muttered as he looked the man over. “An elf this far north? Strange times indeed.” He said to himself as Bertie stood over him, Olive and Nicholas standing outside the house to keep the ever-curious townsfolk away.

“Well, we did get those hunters two days ago. What where they troll hunters?” Bertie asked as he moved to sit on a nearby chair, laying his hands over the chair’s back as he leaned over it.

Campbell simply nodded and smiled a little as he opened one of the man’s eyes. Whistling with amusement at the sight. “Ohoho. Now, this is rare. A Dökk Álfar no less.” He said with a wide smirk on his lips.

Bertie noticed that the eye of the man wasn’t a normal circle pupil, but instead, it was cross-shaped. Which made him look at Campbell with a curious look, as if to ask how he knew that.

The old man chuckled at Bertie before answering. “The main difference between the Dökk Álfar and Ljós Álfar is their eyes. As you can see the Dökk Álfar have these cross-shaped pupils while the Ljós Álfar have more of a more horizontal pupil. There’s a reason they are sometimes called goat eyed knife ears.” Campbell explained while chuckling to himself.

Bertie had no idea what the doctor was talking about but decided not to let his ignorance show. Instead, he looked from the elder man to the unconscious one. “So what happened to him?” He asked, trying to change the subject.

“Hmm? Oh, he was attacked by wolves or wolf at least. Given he survived. I’d imagine it was just one or two wolves, three at the most if they were starved.” He said before looking at the bundled up bearskin resting on a wooden locker at the foot of the bed. “Smart man though, using the thick fur as a shield when he had nothing to fight with. Maybe he found a strong stick or a rock to bash the wolves away from him. Though I wouldn’t credit this man for much intelligence, he was wandering around the frontier dressed like the poorest of vagrants after all.” Campbell then chuckled before placing a warm water-soaked rag on the man’s head.

“Yeah, I suppose.” Bertie said looking at the man while letting his mind wander a bit. “Just have to wonder why he’s here is all.” He then said finally which the older man simply nodded to him and the two fell into companionable silence.

Bertie didn’t know how long the silence was held for before Nicholas suddenly burst into the room. “Bertie! You have to see this!” He said frantically before he almost dragged Bertie out of the house. “It just appeared at the edge of the clearing a minute ago. We’ve closed the gate and barred it but.” He began to explain as he simply trailed off and began sprinting towards the gate.

Bertie always found that particular quirk of Nicholas’s very annoying, but since he was already running down the sparsely cobbled main street of the town after the guard he didn’t mind it. As he almost twisted his ankle when a small pot hole caught him by surprise and he cursed to himself. Wishing that they had managed to work the nearby quarry better before the wolf plaque came about. He still didn’t know what caused the sudden explosion in their population. It was as if it had doubled over the course of a week, yet the game animals didn’t seem effected by the surge of the wolf population.

“Mysteries of the frontier.” He muttered bitterly as he made it to the wooden stairs leading up to the guard house on top of the gate. Once there he stopped and stared, his breath almost caught in his throat at the sight.

Outside, just at the edge of were the clearing started was the biggest wolf he’d ever seen. Muscular and about as big as a shire horse, the white furred wolf looked at the town. As if it was a conquering emperor looking down his nose at a shitty little backwater standing in it’s way.

At either side of the wolf stood two wolfmen, tall humanoid wolves that carried almost the intelligence of men coupled with the cunning of wolves.

At either side as if an army on stand by was most likely all the wolves of the entire region. Mixed into the lines where the occasional wolfman along with a few Lycans, wolfmen that took more from the wolf side than the man.

Haunched brutes with powerful almost bodybuilder build while running using their forelimbs occasionally, giving them an almost three legged gait. If the wolfmen were speed then the Lycans were strength.

“Wh-what’s going on?” Bertie asked the air around him, to get no answer. Almost all the towns guard were now in the guardhouse and around the parapet looking at the gathered wolf creatures.

It was like the guards worst nightmare had decided to show itself and strut in front of them. After a few long moments the huge white wolf padded a little forwards and then showed it’s fangs. Two of which seemed to be sabre like fangs that poked out beneath its lips, a worg then.

Staring down the wooden wall around the town it then snorted and howled loudly. Then as suddenly as they had appeared they just faded back into the forest, the worg the last to leave. Giving the town a look over its shoulder as it padded into the cover of the forest.

Nicholas fell down to his knees and much like the rest around him, his face had lost all colour. “Wh-what just happened?” He asked as he shivered. Bertie was with him on that front as he felt like he could piss himself.

“I think that was a warning… or a declaration of war.” Olive said, the only one with a stern face, as she stared hard at the spot in the forest where the worg had disappeared. It was then that Bertie remembered that Olives grandfather had been a renowned hunter of wolves and other wolf-like species.

He just had to hope they could survive.

“People! Get your butts in gear!” A stern voice boomed out. The owner was the guard captain. A middle aged man with the build of a hearty warrior and a bit of grey creeping into his black hair. He had trained the entire towns guard by himself and was the highest level of the lot, a level 34 warrior. “We have to get ready! Take some scouts and check if there are any wolves in the edges. If there aren’t then chop some trees to make stakes and get ready to defend our homes!” He bellowed loud enough to make the guards flinch, which also got them out of their stupor.

“We are under siege and that was a declaration of war upon us! So we must defend our homes and our families!”

You have survived a hard-fought battle and almost died! For surviving such a battle the system has deemed to reward you with one free stat point to spend as you wish! New skills also available for purchase!

That message along with a loud howl woke me up. In a panic I rose, only to scream out in pain as it aggravated my wounds.

“Holy!” An old man who looked almost like Bruce Campbell though a softer nose and not as chiselled a jaw, jumped from my sudden movement. “By the gods man!” He said holding a hand over his heart. “Don’t scare an old man like that!” He said with a scolding tone and I had to sheepishly apologize, I wouldn’t want this old man's heart attack on my conscience. After all I could only surmise the bandages and bed belonged to him.

“W-what happened? Where am I?” I asked after leaning back down, groaning with the pain that minor effort caused. Yup! Healing up was still as much of a cruel mistress as before. Seems even an increased healing factor would lessen that particular biological function.

The old man chuckled a little and his voice reminded me a little of Bob Ross, it was so calm, friendly and smooth. “Now, now dear boy. No need to worry about yourself. You are safe here in Deepguard.” He said though he then noticed I had looked out the window where a few faces, both young and old, were startled and hid.

“Well, safe for the curiosity of course. You're the first elf most of them have seen their entire lives. Not to mention you're a Dökk Álfar so that’s even rarer here in the western part of the north.”

I chuckled a little as I lay my head back on the pillow. “Well, I guess I’m a little sideshow for now.” I said giving the man a friendly grin before sighing. “So how long was I out? I remember stumbling towards the town but then... that’s about it.”

“Ah, not long maybe an hour or two that’s about it. You must be a tough bastard to make it all the way here with those wounds.” He chuckled and then placed a gentle hand on my uninjured shoulder. “Name’s Campbell by the way, nice to meet you.”

His friendly smile kept me from chuckling at the irony given how I saw his features. I just hoped he wouldn’t start to spout one-liners like ‘groovy’ or I’d lose my cool for sure.

I smiled and reached one hand to Campbell. “Vlad.” I figured not to go with the whole name, since as far as I knew only nobles had last names and I even had a middle name too. Sort of.

“So what is this towns name?” I asked, hoping to make it seem like was a rather unlucky traveller with no clue where he was but lucky enough to find a friendly town just in the nick of time.

“Oh yes, This is Deepguard. A frontier town belonging to the Alocian empire.” Campbell said with a kind smile. I only stared at him confused. Alocian empire? I began to realize just how little information I had been given access to about the world I had been inhabiting the last four years.

“Don’t suppose you know where the Wolfsgarde kingdom is?” I asked scratching the back of my head after sitting up and getting comfortable with the pillow as support.

Campbell only grimaced a little as he stroked the small goatee he had on his chin. “Hmm, Wolfsgarde huh? I don’ t think it’s been called a kingdom for the past two decades. At least not after they conquered Roira from the demon lands. Though I suppose those lands would be called the wastelands now.” He began to exposit and I simply caped at the man.

“Tw-twenty years?” I muttered to myself. Campbell seemed to take it the wrong way and placed a comforting hand on my shoulder.

“Don’t worry I’m sure your family got out of that kingdom before its policies came into play.” He said gently with a reassuring smile.

“Policies?” I asked with a raised eyebrow.

Campbell seemed be a little taken aback by this. “Well, yes. The last wishes of their great hero Robert the brave. On his deathbed he envisioned the kingdom to become an empire by humans for humans. How long have you been wandering the wilderness for?” He asked concern now evident in his voice.

I grew angry and ground my teeth hard, feeling the very slightly elongated canines my new teeth had stop me from grinding them properly. They had killed me and then used me to enact such stupid policies? “Goddess of light my ass.” I growled as I ran my right hand’s fingers through my hair and swept the messy clump as far back as I could.

Campbell only chuckled. “Well you aren’t the only non-human that thinks that way. After all everywhere that goddesses religion sprouts those not human up and leave knowing what is to come.” He said and as I eyed him sceptically he put up a hand.

“O hohoho, no need to worry. I am a devout follower of Raferty, the halfling god of medicine… and beer.” He said chuckling a little as he shook the flask at me and I had to chuckle with him.

“Don’t suppose you have some godly ministrations for an ailing man?” I asked with a smirk.

Campbell smirked widely at me and moved to a desk on the far wall, pulling out a metal flask and shaking it a little at me. “I do believe Raferty can provide.” He said conspiratorially to me. I simply smiled at him. I just might convert to this Raferty.

Before Campbell handed me the flask the door to the room flew open. “Where is it! Where is the elf!” A loud, pudgy little man waddled into the room. His second chin had a second chin as his face seemed to be sinking into his bulk. A Spanish nobleman type of facial hair, all neat and tidy, adorned his pudgy face with slicked-back dark brown hair, which shone a little from the oiled used on it.

His manner of dress made me think of the fat villain from that Pocahontas cartoon, just much shorted almost afflicted with dwarfism and leather boots instead of those weird shoes. All purple and supposedly regal, though he was so damn fat it made the garment look like it was straining to contain him within.

Almost every step he took was accompanied by the tap of his cane, topped with a silvery metal ball where his thick fingers gripped it. In an almost death grip given the whitening of his knuckles.

Once he laid his eyes on me staring at him dumbfounded he raised his cane threateningly. “You brought them upon my town, you scoundrel! I should toss you outside these walls and let the wolves rip you apart!” He screeched in a not so manly pitched voice as he advanced towards me.

He looked like he was about to beat me with the cane before another voice stopped him.

“Mayor Dunleavy!” A Man with Arnolds build in his prime stepped into the room and stared down the pudgy little man. The man must be almost two meters tall as his greying black hair almost brushed the ceiling.

“It is Esquire Dunleavy! Guard captain Grandon! I am a nobleman, address me as such!” The pudgy little man shouted back, red-faced and already panting. I just stared at the scene before me with wide eyes and a silent mind.

This definitely had thrown me for a loop.

“Vlad is resting from his wounds. Why are you causing such a ruckus so soon… Esquire Dunleavy.” Campbell said, seeming to remember the title at the last second when addressing the nobleman.

The nobleman whirled and swung with his cane at me, just barely coming up short as I felt it stroke my nose as it passed my nose. I was thankful for the little terrors stature. “I’ll tell you why! There was a veritable army of wolves, wolfmen and lycans lead by a huge worg just outside our perimeter! And mere hours after this!” He began, spittle flying from his red face.

“Coincidence? I think not! I think this filthy Elf brought them upon us! Must be part of some primitive tribe out there in the mountains that sees our success in this gods forsaken wilderness as a threat.” He spouted his vitriol, looking at me with hate in his eyes every so often.

“Now you can’t really think that? I mean look at the state of him! Maybe the horde ravaged his tribe and he came here for help?” Grandon said trying to appease the tiny terror. For Dunleavy’s part he didn’t seem to wish to be appeased.

At the mention of tribe I suddenly remembered why I had come here in the first place. “Have there been any slavers or hunters come through here recently?” I asked Campbell and Grandon, making a point of ignoring the overly egotistical little noble.

Grandon cocked his head to the side. “Well, there was that group of troll hunters a day or two ago.” He said in a confused tone, not figuring out why I suddenly changed the subject like that.

“Were they successful? Did they capture a troll alive?!” I asked almost jumping from the bed, causing Dunleavy to fall over from how startled he was by my sudden movement. “Where did they go?!” I asked almost desperately.

“Why do you ask Vlad?” Campbell asked me, pre-empting Grandon from asking me the same I supposed.

I scratched the area where my shoulder met my neck. “Well, I have a troll… um… friend?” I muttered a little, not really knowing how to explain or really knew what Trolgar meant to me.

“A troll as a friend?” Grandon asked disbelieving.

“He saved my life. I owe him.” I replied and shrugged a little though I winced at the ache in my injured shoulder,

“They captured that fiendish troll alive! If you must know. It’s most likely on it’s way to the coliseum in Sturmhold. Those hunters were working for that place.” Dunleavy said smugly as if me knowing that was a victory for him. He soon gulped when he saw my death stare at him.

I almost put out my bone claws to rip the little shit to shreds but I liked Campbell. I didn’t want to cause him more trouble than I already had. Gritting my teeth and clenching my fists I glared at the pudgy noble. “I’ve only seen four wolves. That’s. It.” I annunciated and pointed at my bandages to show what happened in that encounter.

Dunleavy simply harrumphed, after swallowing nervously and then turned towards Grandon. “You take care of this vagabond! Recruit him into the guard, throw him out or put him in jail. Just get him out of my sight!” He commanded pompously and stormed out of the room.

All three of us just stared after the man and then at one another. I looked at Campbell and smiled lightly. “Mind if I steal a bit of Raferty’s ministration from you?” I asked with a little smirk as I pointed at the flask in his hand.

For some reason we all began laughing then as the tension left the room.

“So a troll for a friend huh?” Grandon said chuckling as we made our way to sit at a table in the next room over. The whole house had a sort of medieval house mixed in with a western frontiers house from the old cowboy movies. It was cosy and functional, which I figured was the point.

“Yeah I fell into a river and he fished me up.” I said before taking a swig of the booze in the flask. It burned as it travelled down my throat but it reminded me of home, somehow. I hadn’t been much of a drinker before Ragnar.

“I thought he was about to eat me but he simply said elves don’t taste good so he helped me out instead.” I said chuckling a little, though sadly. I hadn’t thought it at the time but Trolgar was a genuinely good person. Maybe not the most hygienic but good person none the less.

Grandon pointed at the furs I had take off the chest at the foot of the bed and wrapped myself up in once more. “He gave you that?” He asked to which I nodded.

“Yeah, kept me from freezing to death and even gave me some horse meat.” I said smiling a little to myself. I glanced at the two older men and noticed a look of curiosity on Campbell. “I asked him, don’t worry. I’ve had horse before but I have to admit he was a pretty good cook.” I said to which Grandon chuckled.

“You certainly have a strange tale Vlad.” Grandon then said after I had told them the story, I had lied a little and said I had been wandering through the forest and fallen off the edge of the gorge. I decided to keep the whole dead, reborn inside a coffin bit to myself.

“Though he is a little prick, I have to follow some of Dunleavy’s orders.” He then said sighing a little as he looked at me sadly. “Though I would have done it anyway. I’d estimate that the horde out there in the forest is at least a hundred strong with almost twenty of them being lycans or wolfmen. I hate to admit it but we need every help we can get. We only have perhaps a dozen or so trained guardsmen and I can get maybe half a dozen more who are able-bodied enough not to get in the way.”

He was stern as he looked me up and down. “I’m a level 33 warrior. What level are you?” He asked and despite it usually being considered rude to ask for one’s level, I could understand his reasoning.

I rubbed my shoulder and looked a little meek. “You aren’t going to believe me.” I said nervously, cringing inwardly.

“What you going to tell me your level 50 or something?” Grandon asked me with a friendly smirk.

I simply half winced. “Uh… um… minus level 8.” I then said looking at him sheepishly.

If they could I would have suspected them to have dropped their jaws onto the floor. “LEVEL MINUS 8!” Campbell suddenly shouted. “How in the gods green earth did you managed that lad?!” He cried and I could have sworn he seemed like he thought his medicine and care for me might have done it.

“I uh…” I began as I racked my brain over a plausible answer that wasn’t the truth. That I had been a greedy little soul and brought it upon myself. “I was a member of an exploration group. We where… uh attacked by a wraith.” I then said remembering wraiths could siphon levels from a person by a nasty touch attack.

“The cleric kept me alive but it took them so long to deal with it, I had fallen to minus level ten when they had.” I then finished saying.

The look of pity I got from both men made me feel rather bad for lying to these good folk but I really couldn’t tell them I died and met a council of undeath now could I?!

Grandon rubbed the back of his head. “What class were you? And did you lose your stat points?” He then asked, things must be really desperate if he was asking that. Deciding to throw them a bone I responded.

“I kept them, but I spent most into agility, vitality and intelligence. I had been trying to go for a survivable magic tank type of build. I am currently a warrior but I lost all of the skills from almost twenty levels because of the wraith.” I answered deciding to sprinkle in some truth with the lie.

Grandon sucked in his teeth and looked worried and annoyed. “I’m sorry lad, but I need you on the wall when the time comes. I’ll have you equipped and maybe I’ll manage to up your stats with a bit of training before the time comes.” He said furrowing his brows as he stood up.

“I’ll take my leave now and I wish you a good recovery. I’ll have some clothes delivered to you. Maybe some of my old ones as your just a bit smaller than me.” He then said giving me a light-hearted grin to try and ease the tension.

I smiled back and thanked him, then he left. After that silence fell. “He’s a good man. That Grandon.” Campbell then said and I looked at him with a faint smile.

“I figured given his demeanour. I’m just glad he’s here to balance out that blow hard Dunleavy.” I answered and got a snort of laughter from Campbell for my efforts.

I spent the remainder of the day resting and talking to Campbell about life in the frontier town and what I should expect from the town’s folk once I left his house.

The next day I unwrapped my bandages and saw that my wounds had more or less healed, only scabs and raw new skin remained. Damn! That regeneration is suhweeet!

“You're healed already?!” Campbell looked at me as he entered the room with a dumbfounded look. I smiled coyly at him as if I knew a secret he didn’t, which was the truth, but his look didn’t make me want to mess with him overly much.

“I had a single healing potion left which I drank after the fight with the wolves. I found it in Trolgar’s cave and I figured I’d have more use for it than him.” I lied through my teeth once more.

New Skill unlocked for purchase: Deceiver!

Gods damn it system! Stop messing with me!

“Well I’d say you have the god of luck on your side after that wraith incident.” Campbell said with a rather surprised look on his face.

He padded over to me and handed me a bundle of clothes. “Here, Grandon sent these over last night after you had fallen asleep. Put them on and come out into the main room. I have some stew cooking for breakfast.” He said and I smiled back at him.

I really felt bad deceiving these good people after everything they had done for me. I just couldn’t trust them with the truth. I don’t think I can really trust anyone with it, to be honest.

The clothes were a pair of brown leather trousers with laced up sides, dark brown leather boots that reached up to my calf. Laced up beige shirt with padded sleeves, a sleeveless grey hooded tunic which reached down to just bellow my knees and leather gloves.

I figured the hood was to help with the elements or perhaps Grandon figured I’d travel out of town once the wolf crisis was over.

Once I finished dressing up I looked around and moved to one of the room’s corners and tried activating Defensive carapace. To my surprise, all I saw was that the clothes expanded just a little bit. This is fantastic! Now I just need a mask or helmet and I could have it active under armour in its current state!

With another thought, I tried to remove the protection that the skill would provide my head and hands. To my surprise, I saw it recede. So it also worked according to my will over what should be covered and what shouldn’t. What fantastic utility!

With a little spring in my step, I walked out of the room to have some stew with Campbell. He told me that I’d be staying with him while I stayed in town. Seems they only had a tavern with two rooms available which a trader and a trapper were using.

The trapper's house had been out in the woods but he didn’t dare stay there after the wolves began acting up. I couldn’t blame him. He even told me the tavern keeper was amiably letting the trapper stay there for almost free, just had to help around the tavern every so often to repay him.

“What did good people like yourselves do to get a man like Dunleavy as your mayor?” I asked a little confused. I only got a wry chuckle from Campbell as an answer and was fetched by a guard named Bertie.

It seemed Bertie and his friends had saved my life and I thanked him for it on the way to a small cleared plot of land. There stood Grandon with a mischievous smirk on his face and a table with armours, weapons and training gear laid out.

I didn’t like the look of it at all.

I knew it! I must have been Hitler in some past life! This is unacceptable torture! I bemoaned, though only in my head as Grandon shouted at me to keep going. The man was a closet sadist.

He had put weighted armour on me, almost enough to overwhelm my measly 16 strength, and told me to run laps along the interior of the wall. If that wasn’t enough he began to throw wooden sticks at me every so often at random to force me to dodge them while I ran.

However, due to the weight, I got hit more often than not. He only barked out his laughter and said. “It's just to toughen you up lad!” I only replied with a stink eyed look, to which he just laughed harder.

After an hour of straight frantic running, where I felt my legs turn to jelly, he upped the ante. He took a bit of the weight off so I wouldn’t fall dead but instead began throwing wooden balls at me instead of the sticks. Telling me to run faster.

When noon finally came around I was a panting heap on the empty plot, stewing in a lake of my own sweat. “I… huff…. can’t…. huff…. BREATHE!” I groaned out between taking in much-needed air.

I had a strange sense of deja vu but I put it out of my mind as my vision filled with Grandon’s face. His face and that shit-eating grin of his. I almost growled at him.

“So lad.” He said, smiling amiably. “What did you get out of this?” He asked with his smile turning into a toothy grin.

From the corner of my eye I noticed one of the wooden balls within my reach. Before I could reach over and club this sadist over the head with it a text box popped into my vision.

Congratulations! The following stats have increased due to over exertion and extreme stubborn continuation of a training regime from the toughest of instructors!

No Shit! Now what do I have to show for this torture! Gimme, gimme, gimme!

Strength increased: 16 > 18 Endurance Increased: 12 > 16 Perception increased: 10 > 11

Oh thank the gods! It wasn’t all just for Grandon’s sick, sadistic pleasure!

“I got strength, endurance and perception.” I said wheezing as I did and the grin that came from Grandon’s face made cold water run down my spine. I still didn't get why I got perception though.

“Great!” He said before raising me up with one hand and pouring some foul tasting green liquid down my throat. “Here’s a stamina potion mixed in with a little healing potion. This’ll put you right back in shape.” He said smiling widely despite my angry glare at him.

“We used this in the guild to train recruits fast! Now have some water, you get ten minutes to rest.” He said grinning so wide I was certain he was a madman.

Bertie only gave me a sympathetic look as he walked past the plot. Seems I wasn’t the only victim. Once I finished the water skin Grandon turned around holding two wooden swords. “Now onto the real training.” He said with a manic grin.

Gods above help me get away from this MANIAC!!!!