Most money is handled digitally through a chip embedded in the left forearm linked directly to all of your bank accounts. Physical money, or Deckra, is a coin-based system. The coins hold somewhat the same value across the globe, with varying costs on services and products differing from region to region. Each nation stamps its deckra in a unique pattern. For deckra currency, the value of any one coin is worth ten of the coin valued directly under it. Broken down, the value is as follows: 1 Copper (Three-point coin) =1 Copper, 1 Silver (Four-point coin) = 10 Copper, 1 Gold (five-point coin) = 100 copper. Beyond Gold is a lens (green, glass-like crystal coin enchanted to have enhanced durability) or platinum coin of matching value = 1000 copper, Mythril (Ultra light, ultra-durable metal) = 10,000. And lastly is the Thud. A thud is a large coin made of adamantine with a gem forged into the center. In order of value (each one worth 100 more mythril than the last), pink sapphire, blue sapphire, ruby, emerald, diamond.

15th, Loyassion, 3012, Age of Divine Knowledge (A.o.D.K)

It’s been two days since my father died. So here I am, living in the woods just beyond the fence, writing in his journal and trying very, VERY hard not to think about how hungry I am or how much I want to kill that man. It’s not working out as well as planned.

My father once told me that when you start a journal, you’re supposed to give it a name. Now, I’m not sure if he was talking about a novel name like The Journey of a Thousand Cogs or more of a more personal name like Samsun. So far, naming you my little friend, our options are either A Life of Pain, Loss, Sadness, Alienation, and Abuse or I could name you Mark, like the pen strokes I’m going to leave in your pages. Seeing as the first name is a bit long-winded and just thinking of the title makes me want to cry, I will happily settle for Mark.

Well, Mark, as I’m sure you know, you were my father’s before mine. Well, my father just had random notes and sayings scribbled throughout the entire first half of you. Not that any of those scribbles can help me undo burning down the house. I can’t believe how stupid I was to burn down my home. Why didn’t I drag Father out of the house and build a pyre or bury him? I could have used the stocked pantry, the bed, and the fireplace. Mark, I am vetoing my right to make any kind of decision when I’m in mourning or emotional shock. Well, I can’t spend all day writing. I need food. Luckily, it’s the month of Tinneus, which is right in the middle of the summer season. I’d better get good at hunting now. I’d rather hunt in winter than try to make it in town. I’ll talk to you again after a few days of hunting

20th, Loyassion, 3012, A.o.D.K

Sorry Mark, but I’m still no good at hunting. Five days later, I had four different animals in my bow sights. I’ve caught six separate rabbits in traps, and I let them all go. Damn it! I’ve had nothing but berries, bark, roots, and mushrooms for days. But as badly as I want to cook some meat over an open flame and gorge myself, I keep finding the desire to not hurt them even stronger. But I’m not at the point of eating bugs yet. I’ve just got to keep trying.

10th, Hemotiove, 3012, A.o.D.K

I still haven’t managed to put down anything. It’s partly the look of innocence and fear in their eyes and partly nausea at the thought of raw and steaming guts. But last night, I caught my first hint of danger. A wolf pack came within earshot of where I was lying to sleep. I was near the fence to our land, so I managed to get behind the gate before anything came skulking around for me, but it was a near thing. I have pretty good night sight, so I saw the shape of a large canine come sniffing around where I had been sleeping. I’ve never seen a wolf in person, only on holo-vids, but to me, the shape seemed a bit too big for a normal wolf. I’m pretty sure normal wolves don’t get to be nine feet long and as high as a horse. Was it a warg or a dire wolf? I’ve never seen them either other than in shows, but they seemed about that big. But I don’t know the difference between the two.

13th, Liovid, 3012, A.o.D.K

Still no luck with hunting, but the leaves are starting to turn, and between that and that close call with the big ass, not wolves, I came into town. Right now, I’m living out of the shed behind Mr.Faillis’s house. The High Elf prick was always waving his pedigree around. I’d love to see the look on his face if he knew he had a Darkling orphan living out of his shed. The shed has some power outlets, and I managed to repair an old space heater. I’ve still got my favorite blanket, Sasha.

She was my very first memory. For years, I carried her around with me as my first and only best friend until Father made me leave her in bed. But here I am, homeless, almost alone, but not quite, not with Sasha and Mark here. Well, guys, the cold is starting to set in, and I’d like a pillow to go with my best friend. But before even that, I need to work on stealing food from the local shops and markets. Practice is the best kind of study. I hope the merchants are in a good mood today.

18th, Liovid, 3012, A.o.D.K

So it’s almost my birthday. Father said I was born on the night of the Howlane festival, the two days and a night that the worlds between the living and the dead are thinnest. Maybe this year I could see Father. Thinking about it now, I’m not sure if that would be such a good idea. He might get upset at my lack of hunting skills, and he may actually murder me if he learned about what I did to the cabin.

Ha! Wouldn’t that be ironic. A ghost father killing his own living son… Wait… I think that very thing happened in an old play by that famous playwright, Macbeth. Or did Beowulf write it? Damn it, I am no good with this refined culture stuff.

Anyway, I’ve gotten better at snatching. Now, I only get caught four times out of every five tries. Today, I managed to snatch a whole loaf of bread from the baker at the local supermarket. This loaf should last me for a while if I don’t mind it going stale.

24th, Liovid, 3012, A.o.D.K

Happy birthday to me! Today I have officially managed to avoid the assholes that have been picking on me for years for a whole three months. I also got out of the supermarket with a box of crackers, a wedge of cheese, and a handful of raw shrimp. It must be some kind of birthday miracle. Well, now that I’m fifteen, I’m going to need to start growing up. Tomorrow, I’m going to start pick-pocketing, and once I have enough, I’m going to buy my first beer. But today is the first day of the Howlane fest, so spirits are high, spooks abound, and pockets jingle with coin for the rigged game stands. Although, after tonight, getting coin might take a while since almost no one walks around with deckra coin on hand. Maybe I’ll aim for a scotch if I can save up enough. Gods, it’s at times like this I wish Father would have let me have a therra-node. I’ve seen all those shows and read all the comics where some super-smart hacker plugs his therra-node into a network and hacks into dozens of bank accounts and ends up with a mountain of deckra. Just like Father to make sure that my life was harder than it needed to be.

15th, Deassen, 3012, A.o.D.K

It’s been almost a month since I wrote in you last, Mark. The festival was rife with pockets to pick, but I didn’t have the nimble fingers and light touch to walk away with anything more than a few coppers. It would have been enough for a beer, but I thought better of it and used the coin to buy myself bulk discount instant noodles. Nothing fancy, the five-pack for a copper, Saisran-style noodles. I spent the rest of the coin on parts to get an old coffee maker working that I found in the trash nearby. I simply brewed my noodles in the coffee pot. I still don’t have any kind of silverware, so I wound up drinking from the pot and biting off the noodles as they came. Mug of noodles, anyone? Bad joke, sorry, Mark.

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

I’ve been spending my free time not hunting for food or attempting to steal or pickpocket, but finding broken tech in the trash. Even after I fixed the thing, it still has erratic temperatures ranging from undrinkable hot to barely above cool. But there isn’t anything I can do about that unless I’m lucky enough to find a much-needed heating element. I’ll just have to keep my eyes open for something that might work as a replacement.

8th, Sorittal, 3012, A.o.D.K

Sorry that I’ve been neglecting you, Mark. I’ve been caught up in my attempts to get ahold of food, coin, or workable parts for my tinkering. I managed to work a manageable heating element for the coffeemaker for my noodles out of a narrow copper piping wound into a tight coil to act as a massive resister. Jerry-rigging the super resister to the heat element mount connectors in the brewer, I managed to get something functioning. I had to work in two Lightning Myst crystals to get the whole thing actually working in the end. I’m quite proud of my handy work.

14th, Hathondar, 3012, A.o.D.K

I’m starting to get ahold of this pick-pocketing thing. The trick is to distract the… mark? Someone you steal from is called a mark, right? Anyhow, I’ve found the trick is to distract them, anticipate their movements, and keep a light touch. It took a good couple of months and a lot of kicks to the ribs to figure this out, but hey, I got it. I’ve managed to snag over the course of the past week three coppers, two pocket knives, three pens, a couple of packs of gum, two fidget toys, and, best of all, a multi-tool.

3rd, Chandom, 3012, A.o.D.K

That multi-tool I got last month has really been a boon. The thing had fillips and flat-head screwdriver heads, needle-nose pliers/wire cutters, a hammerhead, pry-bar head, ruler marks, scissors, a bottle/can opener, a small knife, and best of all, it also had a multi-meter function with test ends included. With that last feature, I’ve been able to test volts, amps, and resistance on anything electric that I can get my hands on. This nifty little gadget has taken my tinkering to the next level.

I found an ancient cell phone in the trash a couple of days ago, and with a new Lightning Myst crystal that I stole from the supermarket, I managed to get it functioning. Although it won’t do much good without a service provider. And between the lack of credits to my name and the near obsolescence of the device, it’s nearly worthless. Damn it. I want a therra-node so damned bad right now.

20th, Feadormor, 3012, A.o.D.K

It took me over a quarter of the year, but I finally have enough deckra to buy myself a few beers. To be precise, it took me seven months, so a quarter year, two months, and change. Although my shoes are wearing thin. Maybe I should skip the drinks and get some new footwear. Well, tomorrow is the winter solstice. Might as well figure out what’s so great about alcohol when everyone is drinking. Shoes can wait a week or two.

1st, Noctothone, 3012, A.o.D.K

Never again, never again, never again, never ever ever again.

Drinking was a terrible idea. I’m technically a year short of the legal drinking age for my species in Ventic. But under all this dirt, I’ve been mistaken for a shrimpy sixteen-year-old. It probably helped that the bartender was a Moon Elf, and Elves are never good at guessing the age of us sprout species or species that only live around a century if we’re lucky. I way over-guessed the cost of alcohol in town. I guess that it’s because Father always got the premium stuff. I found out that with three silver in coppers, I could buy an entire bottle of bottom-shelf scotch, whatever that means.

I drank to the memory of my father and hated the taste of the stuff, but I just blew thirty coppers on the bottle, so I couldn’t have let it go to waste. So I to another swig, then another, and another. After a bit, I cared less about the taste and liked the feeling that was growing in my head. First, I felt kinda warm and cozy, which was rather nice given the bite of winter just beyond the bar’s door. Then I started to feel really good, like fantastic. I guess the technical term is euphoria, but I could be totally wrong about that. I stopped when the room started to spin a little. In my infinite drunken wisdom, I tried to strike up a conversation with a stranger, a clean-cut Human man in a crisp suit. He sneered at me and told me off, so I moved on to another Human, a large, hairy man in a black leather jacket and worn jeans. I hadn’t gotten three words past my lips when he backhanded me in the mouth. I called him out and said some things that if Father had heard me say them, he would have flogged me. I didn’t realize how much of a mistake that was till the large man stood and only got larger in my eyes. He drove a fist into my gut and picked me up by the neck before I had even recovered to throw me across the room. The entire room laughed at me as I staggered to my feet, and the brute stormed over and proceeded to pick me up and throw me out of the building and into a mound of snow that had formed the night before. I staggered back to my feet. The world was fully spinning in my vision at the time as I made my way back to my shed. I hurled all over the ground right outside my shack. If the drunk bit had been bad, this morning was worse, far worse. My head throbs. Noise and light make me cringe in pain. I’m nauseous, but I need to eat because I haven’t had food in several days. I guess I’ll just sleep this off and go food hunting tomorrow.

1st, Skephest, 3012, A.o.D.K

I’m so sorry, Mark. I haven’t written in you for two months. But I haven’t seen you for forty days. Not since I was sick from drinking. Turns out that when I hurled up my guts just outside the shed, I had left behind evidence of my presence. Mr. Faillis found the mess and found me while I was sleeping. I don’t think I need to tell you how ticked off the stuck-up cut ear was. He physically threw me from the shed and kicked me until I fled the scene. I came back that night to find that he had put a padlock on the door. I’ve been spending every night since then, when I’m sure the bastard is asleep, trying to pick the lock with anything that I can find. For all of Skephest and Malther, I hadn’t figured it out. But as of right now, on Pasyon 1st at 2:04 AM, I’ve pulled it off. Turned out the stupid twit didn’t even throw out my stuff. He just left everything, including Sasha, my tools, my electric heater, and you, Mark, in the shed. I had been checking his trash every night for these past two months for my things. Since I had found none of it in his refuse, I could only hope that it was in the damned shed.

As payback, I took the cut ear’s biggest travel backpack and collected all of my things in it. I also ruined all of his yard care tools. I gutted his lawnmower and weed wacker, snapped or bent anything I could, and made sure to take a long piss on the floor. But now I need to find a new home.

14th, Malther, 3012, A.o.D.K

I think I’ve found a workable home. It’s another shed in someone’s backyard. It belongs to some sad-looking Orc guy. I’ve seen him come and go from his one-story little home with a small frown around his tusks. He has a work truck that is full of groundskeeping tools. I peeked inside one night to find things ranging from a rather nice-looking hover riding-lawn mower with a laser base to a thermal snow evaporator to simple hand tools. The guy doesn’t like his backyard shed, so I’ve set up camp here. I’m willing to bet he won’t be coming back here for a long while, seeing as the only thing that’s stored here looks to be old tax documents for his company, one Irontusk Grounds Maintenance and Care.

I’ll need to hunt down some other possible locations to set up camp in case the shed’s owner finds me. I’ll also need to prepare what my father called a bugout bag. After I have prepped for the case of inevitable disaster, I’ll need to look into finding that murdering scum bag. I’ve spent too long just trying to live. Now I need to start to work on my father’s final wish. Hopefully, once I find the damned box, I’ll figure out what’s going on.

24th, Pasyon, 3012 A.o.D.K

I’m here with you, Mark, at the edge of a cycled year, at three strokes to midnight, the summoning hour.

First stroke, Tell my woes: I am Iver Maverick. This year, I have lost my father, failed as a hunter, failed to get revenge for my father, and burned down my home in the pain of losing my father.

Second stroke, confess: I fear I do not have the strength to make it through this world on my own. I am in so much pain that I want little more than ease from this burden. I want to learn what it means to love in any form.

Third stroke, Request: I want friends. I want freedom from this pain. I want a home. I want vengeance for my father. I want my life to mean something.

There. I never ever want to drink again, but I am thankful that I was sober enough to make this wish. Cheers, Mark and Sasha. Here’s hoping next year will be easier.