It was yet another hot and humid day, the sunlight peered into Durgen’s tent with a relentless onslaught of light that shined directly into his face. He wanted desperately to turn over on his stomach and sleep for five more minutes, but his leather cot was essentially glued to his bare green back. After he peeled himself off, he got to his feet and mentally prepared himself for the day while a menu appeared in his vision.

Daily Quests:

Chop Dat Wood!

Chopped wood: 0/80

Stomp Dem Gits!

Rats slain: 0/20

Bacon On Da Table

Gather large boar meat: 0/5

He looked over them carefully, the first quest isn't overly difficult, just time consuming, so it’ll take all morning. At least with the last two he could do them at the same time and can get a decent amount of experience points, or XP for short. The rats were easy as there were several nests in the nearby forest and just clearing one of those should be enough to cross it off his list. The XP yield from killing them, however, was awfully low in Durgen’s opinion, but it had to be done. The boars on the other hand, were just a pain in the ass. They are aggressive beast type creatures that were usually about the size of goblins, which was to say, they were about up to his waist. He sighed to himself, thankful that he only had to get five this time. Curious about his progress, he checked his character sheet.

Name: Durgen

Age: 17

Race: Orc

Class: N/A

Level: 6 progress to next level: 94%

Statistics:

Health:160

Stamina:120

Attributes:

Strength: 20

Dexterity: 12

Constitution: 16

Intelligence: 11

Wisdom: 11

Charisma: 20

{Skills}

He smiled to himself, his progress was slow but steady and level seven was around the corner. According to his mom, once he hit level ten, he could assign levels to a class that he would be qualified for and if he wanted, he could put levels into other classes or even combine them. Although Durgen doubted he’d get anything special, he didn’t even know what kind of classes that are out there. All he knew was that he just wanted to get to level ten and get out of this village. The only person that cared about him around here was his mother and while he did love her, the bullying didn’t make it worth staying and he had doubts he could take her with her. She was the gatherer type with a high level in the Scout class, often picking up special plants other things the village can’t seem to grow on their own.

The stats he had chosen up until now had been to help him with these tedious tasks. Since level five he could distribute five points per level plus one point in strength every other level as an orc. Still not sure what class to pick, he decided to spread them evenly for a while until he realized that when he put more points into charisma the daily quests became less time consuming by talking to the quest givers or by talking to someone dumber than him. For example, it used to be one hundred-twenty chopped wood but managed to convince a couple goblins to carry some of his workload. Not too much of a difference, sure, but the village needs the wood, and his back is a lot less sore at the end of the day. Last level up was when Durgen crossed the threshold to twenty in charisma; he felt slightly more charismatic and could hold a conversation better.

Closing his menus, he started getting dressed. Donning his worn wool work pants and tightened the leather belt looped around it, his pant legs leaving several inches of green shin exposed. Then he donned a dark blue shirt that he had torn the sleeves off. They were just too tight around his shoulders, restricting movement. These clothes were not the best fit but Durgen doubted they were made with orcs in mind. These clothes were raided off some traders some time ago, but he only had to trade a couple meals for them. No one else had any use for them and Durgen just felt natural wearing human clothes. Being the smallest in the tribe at only six and a half feet tall, they fit him almost perfectly, albeit with large amounts of shit from his peers. Finally, he tied his long dreadlocks back with a leather cord, letting them flow in between his shoulder blades before stepping out of his pelt tent.

Once again, the sunlight assaulted his gaze. He raised his hand to shield his still bleary eyes while being greeted by sounds of nearby chatter and the rich smell of breakfast cooking. Looking over, he saw his mother cooking strips of bacon in a pan on their makeshift stove. Standing a head taller than Durgen, her facial features were sharp, and muscles were toned, despite gaining some weight over the years. Scars of her past were visible on her arms and legs and her wild, barely kept hair ran all the way down her frame. “Mornin’ Ma!” He said simply, more focused on the bacon.

“G’mornin’ boi, ur plate be at da table.” She said, lazily gesturing to her right towards a table made from a thin slice of a thick tree with dozens of rings on the food-stained surface. She still seemed half asleep. Smiling, Durgen pulled up a log stool and unveiled the thick leaves keeping his food warm and was greeted by a raging bacon and egg face complete with sausage tusks on the bottom jaw. His smile brightened even further; her putting more effort just to brighten what was no doubt going to be another long day warmed his heart to no end. It still bothered him that he actually didn’t know too much about her, yet she’d tell him tall tales and other stories of her adventures whenever he asked. But whenever he asked about his father, she would pretend that she didn’t hear him or come up with some excuse, so he gave up that pursuit and settled with living in the moment.

After practically sliding the eggs and bacon down his throat, he stood up, thanked his mother, cleaned his plate, and made his way to the first chore of the day. Taking the nearby dirt path he strolled his way towards the South gate where the loggers gather their lumber, taking in the scenery as much as he could, as he was in no rush. Several green bodies both big and small were already taking an early start to their day, walking towards the North side where the majority of the work force takes place. The ‘Y’ shaped village was nestled in a tight mountain range, providing a natural rock wall of defense and the surrounding forest provided a majority of our essentials, with any gaps met by raiding small oomie caravans. It wasn’t long until he reached the chopping area just ten yards from the gate where there were several cut logs waiting to be chopped with an axe sticking in a stump, it was oomie made. He could tell by the smooth curvature with a few cracks running along the shaft and the blade was only as big as his hand. He hefted the axe and inspected it, just to make sure it wouldn’t break on him again. That status screen appeared in his vision.

Woodsman’s Axe

Rarity: Common

Quality: Poor

Weapon-Class: Axe

Range: Short

Base Damage: 7-14

Durability: 4/18

This just wouldn’t do, he guessed that this axe had one to two good swings left before the handle snaps. The blade itself was chipped but still serviceable. He rubbed his chin, thinking to himself. There was simply no way this thing was going to last much longer, so why not make it better?

He scanned the logs that hadn’t been chopped yet, looking for any branches that were still attached. He eventually found one towards the center about the length of his arm that was mostly straight with a slight curve at one end. Grabbing the branch with one hand he prepared to swing diagonally with the other, he swung down as hard as he could, feeling the handle crack and split in his hand as the wedge embedded itself at the base of the branch. Upon trying to free the axe, he only managed to finish off the failing tool and he gazed at the broken shaft he was now holding, discarding it almost immediately. Thankfully, that seemed to be enough as he was able to tear the rest of the branch off with relative ease. Then he picked up the axe head and knocked the loose scrap out of the circular ‘eye’ as he wanted to call it for some reason.

He tried simply wedging one end through the eye, but it was too loose, and it wiggled. Looking at the top end, he noticed a slight split in the center where he had torn it off and it gave him an idea. Taking the head and wedging it in the split, he picked up the discarded handle and gently hammered the butt end of the head, increasing the split. Finally, he stuck the stick back through the eye and grabbed a thin fragment of the previous handle off the ground and jammed it in the split, filling the gaps. Naturally, half of the fragment was sticking out from the top so snapped it off and was rewarded by a new notification.

New skill acquired!

Improvised Craftsmanship: Novice 1

Description: Who needs actual tools when you have big hands and big brain power! Why use wood when you could use bone? No cup? No problem! That guy over there has a nice skull! He doesn’t need it, but you do!

+10% Efficiency when substituting crafting materials

+2 Intelligence

Durgen was taken aback by the strange description. His other skills were straight forward and mundane while this one seemed rather unhinged, but the stat increase was welcomed. Looking down, he examined his creation.

You have crafted:

Makeshift Choppa’

Rarity: Common

Quality: Poor

Weapon-Class: Axe

Range: Short

Base Damage: 7-14

Durability: 16/16

Admittedly Durgen didn’t make it exactly better, but he got a new skill out of it and was far from the worst he had to use. He grabbed a nearby log and placed it on the well-used stump. Lifting his arms up and down to find his path of swing, he finally swung down hard with all his might, wedging his axe half-way through, getting it stuck in the process. Lifting the entire log, he slammed it back down, splitting it in two. Then he chopped those pieces in half, getting four in total and repeated this process with the next several logs.

*****

Quest Complete!

Chop Dat Wood!

Chopped wood: 80/80

Skill level up!

Your ‘General Labor’ skill is now Apprentice 5!

Proficiency increased to 25%

Durgen stopped mid swing, he had been in an hour long trance when notifications invaded his vision. Something about the repetition of doing the same thing over and over again was rather calming, but he was still glad to be done with it. Sticking his axe back in the stump, stood up straight and a little bit backwards, popping his back and chest as he stretched. After wiping the sweat off his brow, he considered his next two tasks. While his axe was good for chopping wood and probably some rats, it’s simply no match for a charging boar. Thankfully, he knew that the hunting party should be back around this time and traveled to the edge of the village.

Luckily, they had indeed returned with a plentiful bounty and had already been chopping the meat off the bones and tossing the scraps at the hungry goblin children at their feet. They had constructed a large canopy to protect them from the elements right next to the communal kitchen where people with the patience to build a higher than normal cooking skill were hard at work preparing meals. Naturally, blood and viscera coated nearly every square inch of the area, including its inhabitants. So much so, that Durgen nearly stepped on a young gob gnawing on a thigh bone. However, by trying to step over the youngling, he failed to notice a chunk of loose flesh, robbing him of both balance and dignity as he slid forward into a wooden support beam headfirst, knocking him flat on his back in a pool of blood. The canopy erupted in a fit of laughter as Durgen groaned. With blurred vision, he carefully stood himself back up, feeling the still warm blood stick to his back and run down his legs. If there was any bright side to this event, it was that he spotted an adequate hunting spear leaning against a table. It was long as he was tall, with the tip being the same length of his forearm and, on top of it all, the whole thing was straight! He waited patiently for the laughter to die down before asking, “Oi, anyone be usin dis?”

“Does it look loike somebodys usin it?” Said the nearby hunter cutting meat off bone. “Just bring er back when ya done, ya stupid git. And don’t ya bring er back broken!” Durgen smiled and nodded his thanks before leaving, trying to preserve any dignity he had left. Once he was clear from sight, he examined his borrowed spear.

Hunty Pokey Stick

Rarity: Common

Quality: Decent

Weapon-Class: Spear

Range: Mid

Base Damage: 12-21

Durability: 21/25

Durgen couldn’t help but whistle, it wasn’t often he got hold of a Decent quality item and he could really feel the difference between this and another of a Poor quality. From what he could deduce is that the quality of an item affects the Durability and the damage it can produce. Items of Trash quality were self-explanatory, as they weren’t really worth using unless you really had nothing else and Durgen had to make do on several occasions. Since he turned sixteen, he was considered an adult, and as orc custom, he was on his own. Thankfully, his mother was kind enough to allow him to stay and even feed him. While yes, it was another thing that the others bullied him for, he didn’t mind.

He casually walked through the middle of the village towards the front gate where the hunting grounds were. The blood on his back had now begun to dry in the hot sunlight and the first thing he wanted to do was wash off in the river. Walking through the village, He saw a few of the bigger children chasing a greased-up goblin down a dirt road. The clothing area where several of the women, both orc and gob alike, sat stitching furs together for the upcoming winter talking gossip and giggling at each other. Across the way, the old smith and his apprentices hammer away on metal plates, watching the sparks fly. A few trading stalls, where folks would either exchange one item for another or barter with teeth, the village’s currency. Orc teeth always grow back so there was never a shortage and they rot away over time so they can’t be stockpiled or hoarded.

Finally, he reached the North gate, a stone palisade with a heavy wooden door designed to slide downwards at a moment’s notice. Two guards stood by the three-yard-wide entrance, both looking bored out of their minds. They towered over most others and especially Durgen, wearing scraps of thick heavy metal plates roughly welded and stitched together with leather straps and leaned lazily on their long, massive rectangular chunks of somewhat sharpened metal called “Choppas.” Calling their equipment “swords” and “armor” would be an insult. Not because of poor quality, but rather because those are weak oomie terms, or at least that’s what Durgen was told. As he approached, one of them noticed his arrival. “Oi! Look at dis lil’ git! Gonna go on a lil’ ‘untin’, ‘re ya?” he jeered, the other chuckled.

“Oi, an’ look at ‘is lil’ stick! Goin’ pick sum fruit?” They laughed and gestured at him, but they didn’t go further than that, so Durgen kept his head low as he passed through. He wanted to roast these sorry grots but decided against it. He knew he wouldn’t get very far, as last time he talked back he was hung upside down by his feet and pelted by sacks of fruit until they burst. His mother had to come down after several hours to give them a rather stern talking to. He shuddered at that thought, that last detail somehow made it worse for him. The only bright side was he smelled quite lovely for a couple days. Looking back, he swore he wouldn’t do that again until he was stronger, or at the very least, had a good escape plan.

Wisdom +1!

"Oh?" He thought to himself. "Dat’s a noice surprise!" His mood brightened somewhat; a surprise stat increase was always welcome, and he wondered if he could replicate it somehow. The thought quickly vanished as an apple core flew by his head and he promptly picked up the pace. Smelling fruity was nice but was not worth the bruises. Swearing under his breath, he ran into the woods where fruit was a snack rather than a torture device. Their laughter slowly faded away the deeper in he went.

Once Durgen was sure he was out of throwing distance, he stole a moment to catch his breath behind a tree and let his stamina recover. Now that his breathing has subsided, he realized it was just him now. Him and the surrounding elements; only thick oaks, tall grass, ferns, and the occasional small critter were all to accompany him. No pointed fingers, mocking laughter, or the weight of judging stares looking down upon him. He was free to be himself and no one could stop it. Hearing the beautiful birdsong, he tried to mimic them as best he could but could only rasp his lips. So instead he smacked his lips and clicked his tongue to the same rhythm.

Pop-pop click pop

Chuckling at his own silliness, he set off for work, putting his novice tracking skill to work by keeping his eyes on the ground for fresh tracks or scat that his skill can highlight. He was thankful that he only needed to stomp twenty rats today, as a decent sized nest can cross it off the list in one go. The boar meat, however, was a little trickier as he had to harvest it himself and they tend to not let him. And since he lacked the Meat Harvesting skill that the Hunter or Chef classes provided, he can only get maybe two to three meat chunks from a single boar. There were several times now that Durgen considered taking one of those classes just to make this easier, but getting up super early, chasing animals around, and being covered in blood chopping meat all day just didn’t appeal to him.

Regardless, he pressed on, walking through the forest trail until he came across a stream to wash himself off. After much scrubbing in the cold water, he finally got most of the blood out of his clothes, and laid them on a nearby flat rock to dry while he worked on getting the sticky mess off his skin and out his hair. Once satisfied, he air dried as best he could, re-equipped his clothes, and progressed further down the trail. It was straight but hilly with endless foliage and bramble. It was long before he came to a fork in the path with a thick tree marred by claw on the right side, prompting Durgen to turn left. Only bears spawn roam the area to the right, and not even the hunters go there often. He guessed it was about midday by the time he arrived at a spot where he knew a rat nest typically spawned. They always seem to appear at the same locations, so he knew where exactly to look.

This area was a burnt clearing where a massive fallen oak that had fallen some time ago. A long split ran down most of the oak's fallen trunk, that has now become a large gap due to many years of decay. Ashen dirt still blanketing the entire area. Durgen knew that the inside of the fallen trunk was completely hollow and was confident he could almost stand in it, making it an ideal breeding ground for those pests. He cautiously crept up to it with his spear gripped tightly in both hands, the ashy earth muffling his footsteps. Individually, they were hardly a threat, but swarms were not to be taken lightly. Rumor has it that these rats have been known to eat even the biggest orcs alive if there were enough of them, although Durgen didn’t know if that was a fact or an old wife’s tale to keep children from wandering off to far. Regardless, he wasn’t taking any chances.

He pressed an ear to the rough bark and heard the telltale chittering and the tiny claws running about inside, leaving little doubt that there was indeed a full swarm. "‘ow iz I goin’ to get deez lil’ gits?" He thought to himself, not daring to say or doing anything to alert them of his presents. He was pondering through the process of simply jamming his spear in and out of the gap like a butter churn when he heard a slight rustle in the foliage about five yards behind him just at the edge of the clearing. Panicked, he spun around, pointing his spear to the source of the noise and adopted a wide stance and prepared himself to jam the butt of the spear in the ground in case something came charging. He stood for several seconds as the sound drew closer, adrenaline began coursing through him as his heart rate increased. He wanted desperately to run and hide with how exposed he was, but fear seemed to weigh heavily on his feet and locked his muscles into place.

The rustling of leaves drew ever closer at a steady pace, stopping right at the edge of the clearing for only a moment before a tiny tan boar piglet emerged, snorting at the ground for a quick snack. Durgen stared at it, before sighing in relief, taking several breaths afterwards trying to get his heart rate down to a steady pace. He pointed his spear back towards the sky and knelt down holding his hand out. He had never seen a baby boar before and quite frankly he found it absolutely adorable, so naturally, he had to pet it. The curious piglet gradually walked up to his outreached hand, inspecting it for food. He let it snort on his hand for a few moments, aloowing him get acquainted, then he flipped his hand over and stroked its coarse fur. The tiny piglet leaned into his hand and oinked in delight as he scratched the area around his butt before it plopped to its side where it promptly received belly rubs. Suddenly, the piglet stood back up in attention, flicking its ears as if listening for something, then quickly waddled back into the foliage.

Durgen was disappointed but he shrugged it off, he had other things to do, like plotting the demise of a few rodents. Before he could even stand up and get back to the task at hand, something else emerged from the forest edge that immediately grabbed his attention. A massive spotted boar taller than him was staring him down like he just committed a cardinal sin, its eyes red with hate. Before Durgen could get both hands on his spear, two more smaller ones charged at him from his left and right, bellowing a piercing squeal. With no time to stand, he sprang to his left as hard as he could, evading one, only to be greeted by the other as a pair of thick tusks pierced into his chest and slammed into the log behind him, further crushing his ribs. He instinctively felt his health instantly plummet, the flashing red bar in the corner of his vision confirming that he had only thirty-two health points remaining as blood poured from his mouth. He felt another impact on his right arm, taking another eighteen points away from his life. He had no air, and thus he couldn’t scream. As if things couldn’t get worse, he heard a much different squeal coming from behind as rats scampered out of the log like a swarm of wasps protecting its hive, attacking everything with extreme fervor, including a very unfortunate orc. Agony washed over him as they tore him apart piece by piece as chunks of his flesh were ripped off his body until his health bar finally reached zero. A new message appeared in his vision, one that he knew would be his last.

YOU HAVE DIED.