Time:

12:08:01 P.M.

7/06/727

Durgen watched the clock like a hawk. He had decided to arrive a little early because he simply was so excited that he woke up early and couldn't go back to sleep no matter how many push-ups he did. He looked around again, but he was the only one in the entire stadium with no soul in sight. He slumped on the rack seating on the bottom row and wondered, not for the first time, if he’d been set up. He hunched himself over, weaving his fingers together, deciding that if there was no one else within the next five minutes, he’d simply leave and go jogging.

Five long minutes came and went and Durgen let out a deep sigh before standing. He knew it was too good to be true but if nothing else, he did have fun while it lasted and got some gear out of the experience. Perhaps Dae’mon has a good training regime in mind. He was about to go at a jogging pace when something tugged on his pant leg, forcing him to stop in his tracks. “Ya Durgen?” asked a harsh voice. Durgen turned to see that the source was a very brawny looking goblin wearing black pants and a tattered shirt with vertical black and white straps. His has seemed to have a permanent mean look to it, as if it was in a perpetual scowl which made Durgen nervous.

“I, er, yeah. That be me name.” Durgen stammered.

“Good!” the gob spat. “I ‘ear good dings about yous, let see if does dings were right. Get up on da ring!” He barked. After a brief moment of hesitation, he climbed up the raised square platform that was still not a ring in Durgen’s eyes, but he wasn’t going to argue about it now. The goblin with an attitude, who Durgen assumed was Squiggins, climbed in after him carrying a long straight stick.

“Wuts dat for?” Durgen couldn’t help but ask, already not liking where this was going.

“This is my learnin’ shtick, it helps shtupids like you learn good.” Squiggins said, resting it over his shoulder. “Now lemme ask you somethin’! You see those empty seats over there?” he questioned, gesturing behind him. “In a few days it’s gonna be full of people, why?” he asked simply. Durgen only thought for a moment, it should be obvious.

“Well dey’re ‘ere fur a show aren’t day? See us smack each other around fur a bit” he answered confidently, which immediately earned him whack across the face, losing thirty health points easily as his head reeled and hit the ground.

“WRONG! They don’t care if you flip around and slam someone! They wanna see blood spill, bones break and teeth fly!” Squiggins exclaimed, standing over Durgin’s prone form. “But that’s if they lucky.” He continued, crouching down so Durgen could hear him better.

“Never get into a ring expecting to be slapped around, gettin’ a few bruises and then callin’ it a match. You gotta go ALL in, especially at your level. Any edge you can get you HAVE to take advantage of, else your name is Mud. You got that, shtupid?” Durgen’s jaw hurt too much to speak so he simply nodded in reply. “Good! No Shtand up and fight me like an orc!”

“You still gonna use yur stick?” Durgen grumbled.

“Of course! You aint done learnin’ yet!” Squiggins answered cheerfully.

“Do I get one?”

“Nope!” With some help from the sadistic goblin, who pulled him up surprisingly easily, Durgen was able to stand on his own two feet and was instructed to take his place in the corner and wait for the bell. After a few seconds a loud ding sound reverberated throughout the ring, singling the start of the first round. Durgen charged at him as fast as his legs could muster, intending to tackle Squiggins and pin him down with his body weight. However, last second before impact, Squiggins simply stepped to the side and swung the stick horizontally across Durgen’s feet, causing him to trip and fly face first through the tight ropes. Durgen barely had time to comprehend what just happened when he felt a sharp pain across his rump.

“SHTUPID! *WHACK* SHTUPID! *WHACK* SHTUPID!” Squiggins finished his onslaught with a final whack. “Too predictable! Too easy! You be nothin’ but paste!” He chastised. Durgen didn’t really lose a lot of health from the assault but that didn’t mean that it wasn’t gonna hurt to sit for a while. But what hurt most of all was his pride, this was almost up there with getting pelted with fruit and getting rescued by his mom and he will not stand for it! Squiggins was giving Durgen another lecture, but he couldn’t hear any of it. His chest burned as if a fire was set ablaze in his heart pumping wildly as burning energy flowed to his arms and legs like water as immense pressure began to build up within him, muscles bulged like they were gonna burst through his skin. His vision tinted red as he let it out in a long bestial shout.

“WWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRGG!”

Squiggins was quite surprised by the sudden outcome. Not only did the fresh noobie suddenly bulk up but also now had bright glowing red eyes that matched his now red tattoos and was now trying his damnedest to pummel him with fast powerful strikes. He felt his learning stick bend in his hands as he blocked the sudden assault. He tried countering the raging orc’s blows but his attacks seemed to do very little and went mostly ignored. Being a monk, he specialized in using one’s strength against them, noticing patterns and using weaknesses, but Durgin’s attacks and maneuvers were impulsive and random, making it practically impossible to predict his movements and forcing Squiggins to scramble and react. Thankfully, he didn’t have to defend himself for long as the barrage of fists slowed considerably as the orc’s breathing became more rapid. Not long after his fatigue took over and he collapsed to the ground.

Squiggins cautiously lowered his learning stick and poked Durgen a couple times with it, getting a deep snore in response. Squiggins let out a sigh of relief as he pulled a cigar that he kept in a box in his vest pocket and lit it, using a trick he learned from Dae’mon during a game of cards. With a hint of mana he snapped his fingers to invoke a small blue flame to emit from his thumb and held it to the end before quickly waving the flame away. Dae’mon told him that intent was all that was needed for the simple cantrip, that anyone with a lick of mana can learn it easily enough. Apparently, a monk’s chi energy was also sufficient. Speaking of the shaman, Squiggins deemed it necessary to have a quick chat with him but didn’t like the idea of leaving this poor youngling alone and unconscious, even if he was stupid. Thankfully, this wasn’t the first time he had to drag a body. He jumped down from atop the ring and crawled underneath, fishing out a wooden cart. It was low to the ground approximately three by five feet long, used for moving the wounded and occasionally as a spare snack cart, designed specifically with goblins in mind, though it took some convincing to get a set of wheels, especially ones that were round. After a few minutes, he managed to drag the orc off the ring and flop him on the cart like a dead fish. He then wrapped the rope around his waist and shoulders, making a makeshift harness and walked forward, pulling the cart and its passenger along while Durgen’s feet dragged on the ground, kicking up some dust.

When Durgen awoke, blinking his eyes several times, he groaned as he found himself Dae’mon’s operating room on top one of the tables. After setting himself up to look around he was thankful he was the room’s only occupant. He let out a sigh as he swung his legs over the edge, for he had no doubt he was going to get another lecture from the old geezer. He had some questions in regards of how he got here but his mind felt too foggy to think straight. Tea sounds really good abou’ naow. He thought to himself as he swayed to the curtain pulling it aside to see both Dae’mon and Squiggins sitting at the table playing cards while having a smoke. The pair turned to look at Dae’mon’s other guest simultaneously.

“Ah, dare he iz! Had a good lil’ nap did ya?” Asked Dae’mon jovial.

“Yesh, he wore himself out pretty good earlier. Feeling better now, shtupid?” asked Squiggins mockingly.

“Oh, hush!” Dae’mon demanded before turning back to Durgen. “Take a seat, boi. Squiggins caught me up on wot ‘appened, and I told ‘im abou’ yur circumstances. Daan’t worry, ‘e’s a good fren’ of mine. Though, I’z pre’y sure I told ya to take it easy.” He sneered. “So tell us me why ya decide ter oick wrestlin’ as a new ‘obby?”

“It, ah, sounded loike a good idea.” Durgen spoke after a moment of contemplation.

“And ‘oo the hell told ya dat?” Dae’mon pressed.

“Grig.” Durgen answered simply.

“Of course ‘e did.” Dae’mon sighed. “Guess yur a wrestla’ naow, boi, even if it’s not on your sheet. He’s a boss just loike me, so I can’t just pull ya out.” He said, hand the cards in his hand to Squiggins as he gathered all the cards in a neat pile.

“So what ‘appens naow?” Durgen asked, taking a seat at the rocking chair. “Ya make it sound loike it’s a bad ting.”

“Not really.” Squiggins chimed in, shuffling the cards in his hands. “It’s a good way to increase your stats but you won’t get shit for X.P. but at least it’s better than the crap jobs you were doing before. Now that I know what you’re actually capable of, I can train you for real.” Before Durgen could ask, Squiggins already felt the question coming. “Usually, noobies get trained wrong on purpose, as a joke.” Durgen’s eyebrows rose in realization.

“Ah, so, dose take-downs and grapples Grig taught me were fake? And he signed me up to die?” Durgen asked with sadness evident in his voice.

“Afraid sho.” Squiggins confirmed. “But he musht’ve liked you enough to actually teach you a thing or two. As for what happens now, we’ll shtill train, just differently.”

“Does dat mean you’z gonna go eazy on me?” Durgen asked hopefully.

“Nope!” Squiggins answered cheerfully, snuffing out that little flame of hope Durgen held. “I’m gonna train you sho hard you’d wish you shtay dead!”

“Why doez dat sound loike you’ll kill ‘em”? Dae’mon asked, giving the Squiggins the side eye.

“Becaushe I just might! Sheveral times!” Squiggins replied excitedly. “Shtarting tomorrow, you and I will meet up here for now on EVERY morning at seven a.m. sharp for my shpecial training regime JUST for you!” he finished with a wide toothy grin while pointing at Durgen with a clawed finger. This didn’t sit well with Durgen. He had finally gotten found a new path out from being a peon only to be a toy for this gob who physically abused him the first chance he got, all because what? He wanted to put on a good show? To be praised for once and be accepted by others? Was it really so much to ask? Did he really have to work this hard? His blood ran hot as he put venom into his next words.

“An’ wat if I say no? Do I git any say into wat I want?” Squiggins was about to retort but Dae’mon silenced him with a quick raise of his hand.

“Durgen, I knowz dis seems loike a lot to take in noaw. Believe me if I’d known Grig was gonna try to recruit ya I woulda stopped ‘em. If you don’ wanna be a wrestla’ then I’ll try an’ pull some strings an-“

“I ain’t quittin’.” Durgen said sternly, interrupting Dae’mon and catching him off guard. “I ain’t quittin’ an’ you said you’d train me, not em’!”

“I know, and I will. We both will.” Dae’mon assured. “I know he doesn’t seem loike it, but Squiggins is a propa’ traina’ an’ we’z gonna turn ya into da bestest wrestla’ on dis side of da continent.” Durgen calmed at those words as he reminded himself that he needed and edge he could get. He didn’t have many options, but really, he didn’t have anyone to blame but himself. He did want this, but failed to see the extra strings attached, so he might as well see it through.

“Foine. Should we get to it den?” Durgen asked with new found resolve. He didn’t just plan on just giving a good show anymore, now he planned on winning. Squiggins beckoned him over and all three went over the next course of action while trying to teach Durgen a card game called “Dungeon Crawl,” a trading card game that, according to Dae’mon, has been around for centuries that roughly mimics an actual dungeon crawl. Then they had to explain what an actual dungeon was.

*****

Durgen, once again, collapsed onto the dirt, arms giving out as hot coals poured off his back, his only saving grace was the leather training tunic that was only there to prevent burn marks, his arms however, were still exposed. He then frantically tried to get up and away from the burning rocks but was stopped by a swift bonk to the head with a Squiggins’s special “training stick” The surprisingly muscular goblin has been putting the beat down on Durgen the last few days, steadily increasing all his physical stats in preparation for the “Smackdown” on Saturday. The past hour the evil gob had him do push-ups while he placed a hot coal on his back every time he went up with a pair of tongs. His current record was now eleven.

The purpose of this exercise was to increase both strength and constitution simultaneously within the same hour. Once Durgen got the notification that they went up by one he relayed that information to his sadistic trainer. However, Squiggins insisted that training was nowhere near over, he loaded a crossbow with a blunted bolt, lit a cigar, telling Durgen that it was time to run. Durgen took his chance and ran for cover behind a small boulder. Now that strength training was over for the day, it was now time to work on his dexterity. Once Squiggins climbed up on top of the wooden table he took aim and fired, the bolt bouncing off Durgen square in the back, no doubt leaving a nasty bruise in its wake as Durgen howled.

“You’re shupposed to dodge, shtupid! DODGE!” Squiggins commanded. Taking another deep inhale of his cigar while loading another bolt. Durgen did not need to be told twice as he was running in a zig-zag motion, trying to throw if the goblin’s aim. It worked, but barely, as the second shot grazed his left shoulder, inches from his neck, then he dove behind a barrel, pressing his back against while receiving a new notification.

Your Dodge skill has increased to Novice: 6!

Dexterity +1!

Durgen smiled as he took several breaths, making a mental note to check his status page when he got a chance. For now, he should try getting a plan together. This was a skill exercise Squiggins called “Dodge Bolt '' where the goal was to reach the shooter while dodging blunted bolts. Durgen wasn’t sure how, but the goblin somehow managed to get bolt heads that were shaped like little fists. He stole a quick peek around the bend of the barrel, spotting Squiggins about five yards away already aiming right at him. He whipped back, expecting a fist to fly past him but it never came, meaning it was still loaded. Durgen was pinned and he knew it, without many options, he decided to take a gamble. A sweltering heat coursed through his body as he activated his rage. Spinning around he hefted the hollow barrel over his head and threw it as hard as he could at Squiggins with a shout before darting forward with enhanced speed. Squiggins, in a panic, wasted his shot and hit the barrel while it was in mid flight, doing little as it bounced off the ground and speedily rolled toward him. Durgen saw the look of fear in Squiggins’s face through his red tinted eyes as the goblin tried to hastily load another bolt. Just as the goblin locked another one in place, the barrel stuck against the table’s legs, snapping them off causing Squiggins to fall forwards with no room to maneuver in the air. The goblin rolled forwards in a practiced motion, landing in a kneeled position and coming face to face at a charging Durgen. For the first time in a long time, Squiggins yelped.

Dae’mon burst into a fit of laughter from his, rocking backwards in his rocking chair as Durgen crashed into the gobs body, the two rolling several times before flopping on the ground where they now lay groaning. The pain returned as Durgen took this time to announce his victory. “I win!” he stated weakly, raising both fists in the air in glorious valor before falling to his sides. This had been the fourth time he activated Berserker’s Rage and finished that quest Dae’mon gave him a while ago. He had figured out since then to forcibly attempt to turn it off short of its activation time. The only thing that seemed to prevent him from doing so was if he was continuously taking damage, meaning he had to wait a few moments. But even then, Durgen had to really want to turn it off, as being in an almost blind rage made it extremely difficult to focus and listen to reason. But if he didn’t, the fatigue would overwhelm him, robbing him of his strength and consciousness. He collected himself for a few more moments until he felt an unnatural wiggling from underneath him that quickly turned to violent thrashing. Durgen was confused but didn’t get up until a small hand reached around and patted his head a couple times, mapping Durgen’s face with its touch, then punched him in the nose. “Gah!” Durgen exclaimed as he clutched his face, hearing a deep inhale as he rose off his back, turning around to see Squiggins several shades bluer, his outstretched form grasping rapidly.

Durgen slowly stood up as blood dripped from his nose. He wondered for a moment if he should try to help the poor goblin but decided that maybe he didn’t want his help right now and made his way to the cabin where Dae’mon was clearly recovering from a laughing fit. After a sip from a healing potion he got a quick wash from Lavar, Dae’mon’s soapy water elemental. The two got well acquainted over the last few days. Lavar was a very energetic puddle of water that loved to clean and play around, always excited whenever Dae’mon poured it out of its container. Apparently, it likes to feed on dust, dirt, and filth. Since Durgen was usually covered in some combination of the three and visited often, the little elemental quickly warmed up to him. He slouched in the fur covered armchair by the unlit fireplace, the setting sun fading through the tinted window glass. He sat there reverently as he looked over his status page.

Name: Durgen

Age: 17

Race: Orc

Class: N/A

Level: 9 progress to next level: 17%

Statistics:

Health: 200

Stamina:220

Attributes:

Strength: 30

Dexterity: 22

Constitution: 20

Intelligence: 14

Wisdom: 21

Charisma: 30

{Skills}

Durgen smiled at his progress, he was no big warrior, but he was confident he was on par with the bigger workers. The training in combination of being a Dreamer and a few quests really sped up his progress. When he reached level nine, he put one of his six points into strength just to cross into the next threshold, making his muscles slightly bigger and more defined. Then he deposited the remainder directly into Charisma, the stat really showed its worth and Durgen saw no reason not to keep putting points into it. Sadly, Charisma was becoming the hardest to level up, as simply roping his mother into a conversation didn’t seem to be cutting it anymore. He had secretly hoped that putting some points into wisdom will help him work up the courage to go talk to some of the girls but with little results. It wasn’t a wasted effort, however, as Durgen did notice more self-control while in “Rage.” The temporary status effect gave him a Wisdom penalty of thirty percent as well as a small stamina drain. He wished the system had told him that, but Durgen chopped it up as something he needed to figure out on his own, not even the system was going to hold his hand. He made a mental note to ask Dae’mon about it later.

He stretched his arms upwards as he slowly rose from his seat. Squiggins should be up and mad about now, so Durgen figured it best to get it over with. After twisting his upper body to each side and popping his back, he walked out the open the door to see an irate Squiggins shouting multiple profanities at Dae’mon, who stood there arms crossed with a smug expression on his face. Durgen decided to hang back, glad that it wasn’t him this time. The angry goblin eventually turned and stormed off and switched back. Durgen assumed he left to cool off, while he approached Dae’mon.

“Wat was ‘e mad abou’ dis toime?” Durgen asked.

“Bah! ‘e’s jus’ bein’ a sorry grot.” Dae’mon shrugged, dismissing the question. “Ya did pre’y gud out dare, boi. Tink yur ready fur tomarra’?”

“Iz it Friday already? Feelz loike it’s been weeks.” Durgen said. His muscles ached and throbbed. The only thing he was thankful for was that his tattoos had finished healing and peeling. He checked the cooldown on his Berserker’s Rage ability which had about two minutes left. “So iz trainin’ over fur today?” he asked. “I wanna try to get me rage to level two.”

“Really?” Dae’mon’s eyebrows shot up. Obviously expecting that Durgen wanted to turn in for the day. “Alroight, but I’z not draggin’ ya home again if ya pass out. Go punch a tree down or sumthin’, I’z goin’ to bed.” He said while pulling his staff out from seemingly out of nowhere and headed back inside.

Durgen waited patiently while the cooldown reached zero. He knew he had some time before Dae’mon actually went to sleep so he had to go all out if he wanted to make progress. He broke off a table leg and swung it a couple times to test the weight. Then he set up makeshift targets using the wood scrape left over from this evening’s exercise. His eyes widened when he got a notification.

Improvised Craftsmanship is now Novice: 2!

+ 11% Efficiency when substituting crafting materials

+1 Intelligence

Durgen had forgotten about that skill, not having any reason to use it much the last few days. Yet another thing Durgen wanted to work on but didn’t have time to do. Sighing aloud, he gripped the bottom of the leg with both hands and channeled his rage. He thought about the beatings, the trickery, and the lack of power he had over his own life. Did he even want this? Or was he talked into it? He knew he wanted to get stronger, it was why he wanted to train in the first place, but is it worth the abuse? Did he want to keep dealing with it or is there a better option? From where he stood, there didn’t seem to be any. He felt a burning in his chest spread to his arms as they flexed. He focused on the makeshift dummy in front of him, his eyes tinted red as imagined Squiggins’s cruel smiling face, the one he made whenever he got a chance to beat him with a stick. The roughly humanoid figure of broken furniture and branches never stood a chance as Durgen struck it with full strength, sending shards of wood as leg and the dummy snapped in half upon impact.

Next, he turned to his right, imagining Grig towering over him. He expected him to fail! He almost set him up for it! The dummy tumbled backwards with a practiced side kick before leaping on top of it and punching where the face would be. Once satisfied, turned to the final figure as stared back at him with a faceless expression. Durgen couldn’t identify this figure for he never met him. His father, where was he? Why wasn’t he here? Why would his mother not tell him anything about him? Was he bad? Questions flooded his mind and he roared in frustration before taking it out on the figure, for all he knew now was rage and that that the whole world was out to spite him! His fists began to burn as he whaled on a log until it was in chunks. He breathed heavily as his vision returned to normal. He stood over the piles of scrap with bloodied fists and nodded towards the blinking notification in the lower corner of his vision.

Congratulations! Sigil of the Berserker is now level 2!

You have unlocked the Sigil’s advancement tree!

You have (1) talent point to spend and (30) seconds to distribute

Increasing Violence

Increase rage duration by 5 seconds.

Decrease cooldown by 5 minutes

0/5

Blood Rush

Increase Strength and Dexterity by 5%

Increase attack damage by 5%

0/5

Killer Instinct

Automatically gain 1 level in the Perception skill

Use Perception skill to identify targets weakness while in Rage

0/5

Durgen’s overburdened mind was easily overwhelmed by the sudden wealth of knowledge. Three perks appeared in his vision as a new page appeared. Each perk leading down a path clouded by mist with a shadowy shape of a tree in the background. They all seemed good, but what were the drawbacks? What was it not telling him? And why the rush!? In a panic, he slapped on the first option on the far left and it illuminated in response before the page closed automatically. He checked his blessing, confirming that the duration had indeed increased to twenty-five seconds and that the cooldown shrunk by five minutes, which felt less impressive, but Durgen figured he would upgrade it further later, the more points into Increasing Violence, the more he can Rage and thus level it up faster.

“Oi! Go ‘ome ya grot!” Dae’mon shouted through an opened window from the cabin, interrupting Durgen’s train of thought. He smiled and waved apologetically as he headed down the plateau, having met his goal for the day. Durgen walked home with mixed feelings swirling in his mind. He wanted to just commit to one but was just unable to. So instead, he just tried to focus on tomorrow. According to Squiggins, there was something called the “bracket system” where the winner from the first series of matches goes on to fight against the other winners. This goes on until there is only one winner. Including himself there were eight wrestlers in total with Grig being more of an announcer and a tie breaker than a wrestler, meaning, Durgen had a decent chance of getting at least close to the top bracket. He just hoped that his rage ability could possibly trump years of experience.

He made it home just as the sun had set, the dim light for the summer night still peered through the hut’s window, Durgen’s eyes drawing to the iron jaw resting on the bed. He picked it up while sitting on the bed, thumbing the edge of the jagged red teeth that lined the front with two larger ones representing his tusks that jutted from his mouth. He had to admit, he thought it looked pretty nice. Maybe he could just wear this around all the time? Why not? He pulled the straps over his head, resting his chin on the small plate on the bottom as he buckled them around his head. He opened and closed his mouth several times to test its movements. Once satisfied, he laid down on his back and closed his eyes.