CHAPTER 1

THE MOTIVATION

Panic and fear tore through his mind as bolted upright in bed, his heartbeat like a tribal drum, as those old memories coursed through his mind. Sitting up in a straw mattress, he quickly hugged my knees to his chest slowly rocking back and forth as his brown hair fell in front of his eyes shading them from sight. Silent tremors shook him to his very core, he wanted to curse the gods above for this reoccurring nightmare. Why wouldn’t it leave him alone, after all five years was a long time to suffer the same memory over and over again.

Tears fell unbidden down his face and after all that time he still couldn’t keep them under control when faced with the memories of this recurring nightmare. It happened less often these days when it first started it happened nearly every night. It was his own personal hell, a monthly a nightmare that wouldn’t end once it started. Making him relive those horrid events start to finish, repeatedly over the last few years. A constant reminder of what he promised to himself and the gods. Like they were urging him to complete his protested vow. The dream even re-enforced that idea because he was trapped in that nightmare until he made his vow. Once again, he repeated his vow to the heavens, to grow strong enough protect the ones he loved and then he would make that bastard pay.

It was always Jackson’s dream was to be an Adventurer, a legendary hero who fought against all odds to save humanity. He grew up listening to the stories of faraway hero’s and there daring plights and now he was finally old enough to see that dream come to fruition, but now it was for a wildly different reason. Those where the dreams of a child and the hard realities of the world had made him grow up a long time ago.

He would still become an Adventurer but instead of riches and glory, he would work hard to grow strong enough to protect those dearest to him. By losing everything it made him appreciate the people in his life even more. No heroes had come to save his family, and it made him realize a truth of the world. The Heroes of old saved nations not regular people, and you couldn’t wait around hoping someone would swoop in and save you.

He forgot about those heroes and started idolized others like, his father and his mother people who sacrificed themselves trying to protect others, people like Carn who was selfless enough to adopt and raise him for no reason other than to help. Those were the people he strived to be like, for those were his true heroes.

It took a while, but he was finally able to shake off the last dregs of emotions brought on by the latent memories. He wiped the last few tears from his green eyes, as the light of the full moon shone through his window. Knowing he would not be able to fall back to sleep Jackson crawled out of bed, shaking the sleep from his body he lightly stretched. Feeling much better he tied his long brown hair out of his face and pulled together his hunting gear.

Leather pants - Common - Light Armor - +2 Defense – Durability 7/10

Blacksmith’s leather doublet - Common - Light Armor - +3 Defense – Durability 8/10

Leather boots - Common - Light Armor - +1 Defense – Durability 1/5

Today was the day before his sixteenth birthday and tomorrow he would leave to unlock his Class. Since that night he had always hated his birthday, so he didn’t play on celebrating it anyway. No, he would push himself through that awful day by finally leaving this place and striving forth towards his goal. He would leave Carn and all of Raine behind and venture forth to pursue his new dream.

At the age of Sixteen you unlocked the ability to level up. It was a way to grow stronger by completing quests, killing monsters, and defeating your enemies. You also, if you had the aptitude for it, got the chance to gain a Class or a Profession.

A Martial Classification was the term used to describe what type of specialization you received, you could unlock the skills of say an Ranger, Fighter or Mage. Most referred to their Martial Classification as their “Class”.

There were also Non-Combat Professions that unlocked and gave boosts to skills like Jewel-crafter, Armor-smith, and Alchemist. Anyone could unlock crafting skills as in herbalism, and smithing, but Professions gained boosts to their skills and could make things well beyond regular person’s ability or imagination.

The only way to gain a class to go to a large city and be tested where you would learn a class and gain relevant your abilities and skills. The closest of which to do that was is Meridian, which was a nine-day journey from the village of Raine.

Carn wasn’t against Jacksons dream of becoming an adventurer but seeing as he cared for Jackson like a son, he would much rather have Jackson stay here in relative was safety. Not out on adventures risking his life, but Jackson learned long ago that nowhere was safe. There was an entire world out there begging for the chance to end you unless you were strong enough to face it.

He would never admit to it but Carn was worried for the boy. Once he left, it would be a long time before he would come back to see the man who he saved his life and before he left, he was going to try and repay just a little of the kindness Carn had shown him over the last five years.

The last few seasons had not been kind to the blacksmith. Carn was not an Armor-smith, he just had moderate skill level in Blacksmithing, which he learned through the strength of his arm and sheer determination. It was the entire reason he was the local blacksmith for the village of Raine and not swinging his hammer away in a guild sponsored or royalty owned smithy, he could only create mundane items he didn’t have the skills to unlock special properties of magic ores or create other magical wonders.

The other reason for his struggling times was that the prices of regular metals had recently skyrocketed, and the people in the village could no longer afford Carn’s work. The whole village was struggling to make ends meet. The farmers, loggers, and miners couldn’t afford new equipment, they just had to limp along with what ever broken down or worn-out equipment they had at the time. It had been months since anyone conscripted anything from the blacksmith, and that made Jackson worry about the kindhearted giant.

For the a few years ago, Carn had been so busy had to hire multiple apprentices just to keep up with demand the village placed on him. Often times he couldn’t let the fires go out in his forge, for the blacksmith simply couldn’t afford downtime it it took to stoke the embers into a flame hot enough to forge metal.

Now those same embers lay dormant and without any work he had to send his apprentices away to continue their training elsewhere and the once proud blacksmith had taken to chopping lumber and doing odd jobs around the village to make ends meet.

Thinking about all this Jackson donning his gear. He was determined to do one last thing for the man who saved his life all those years ago. Things were looking so bleak he felt that if it were to keep up Carn would not make it through the winter.

Carn was never one to speak of financial problems but he could see the toll the stress was having on the man and Jackson was hoping to give him one last parting gift before he left. If he could provide enough meat and hides to help him get through this winter, it might buy him enough time for his situation to turn around.

Jace being the son of a woodsmen had taken to the woods like a fish to water. He started wandering the forests close to his new home as a kid in order to feel closer to his father and naturally he started using the skills his father had instilled in him so long ago. Hikes turned into hunts and over the years he became quite successful at it.

He had no doubt that if chose not to earn a Martial Class, he would still be able to make a life for himself in the woods, just like his father. He normally sold the boons from his hunts to the villagers to save up for his dreams, but he recently decided to bring his wares to the local butcher in order to start stock piling food for the blacksmith.

Jackson felt it wasn’t nearly enough to pay back all of Carn’s kindness, but it was a start. Once he became an Adventurer, he could always send money to Carn to help repay him for all that he did for him as a young boy.

It was a few hours until sunrise as he crept out of his room and into the darkened forge. Carn lived in a small dwelling that largely comprised of his workshop which included his forge, and a large anvil accompanied by two smaller anvils all of which were all required for different types of work. Many tools dotted the walls all kept in perfect harmony.

It led to a spartan lifestyle and there wasn’t much extra room in the house, but shy blacksmith had quickly converted his old storage room into a bedroom for Jackson shortly after he moved in. His tiny bed was plenty noisy during the day due to its proximity to the forge, but that suited Jackson just fine, he spent most of his time outdoors anyway.

He quickly found his bow and quiver and quickly grabbed them off a bench where Carn had placed them. After adding some arrows to his quiver, he noticed Carn must have taken the time to oil his bow and rubbed fat on the string. Jackson knew he had to protect his equipment, but he always seemed to forget.

Once again Carn had shown his thoughtfulness and his kindness for others by doing those simple tasks. The humble and thoughtful blacksmith always seemed to find a way to make Jackson feel even more indebted to the man, as if he didn’t already feel like he owe Carn his life.

Yew Bow - Common – 2-6 Dmg - 12/15 Durability

Quiver – common - holds 25 arrows – 10/10 Durability

Flint Tipped Arrows – common x 10

He waved off his notification as he strapped on his gear. Searching for the rest of his gear took him awhile because Carn had hung his hunting knife on a rack after he replaced his old ratty scabbard with a new one and sharpened the blade.

Sharpened Hunting Knife - common - 2-3 dmg –

9/10 Durability

“Mhmm, Carn has been busy.”

Reminding himself to thank the big lug next time he saw him he grabbed his tattered old pack and slid out of the forge into the crisp night air. Starting off at a brisk jog he headed out to his favorite place, the woods. Unlike his families previous dwelling, Carn chose to live with in sight of the village just far enough away to not disturb them with his incessant banging.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

Name: Jackson Thorne Level: N/A

Health: 40 Mana: 30 Stamina: 25

Stats

Strength – 5

Constitution – 8

Agility – 5

Dexterity – 7

Intellect – 6

Endurance – 5

Skills

Woodcraft: 8

- Skinning: 3

- Traps: 4

- Tracking 3

- Lumberjack: 2

Archery: 5

Sneak: 4

Axes: 1

Blacksmithing: 1

Abilities

None

Qualities

Resolute I, Nemesis I

After running for a solid hour, he paused to catch his breath and drink some water. He knew from experience ragged breathing while hunting did not mix. He took this time to check his status page.

He sure had come along way in the last couple of years hoping his experience would help him in his quest to be an Adventurer. Once he caught his breath, he dropped into a crouch and started slowly creeping forward his eyes vigilantly showering the woods, with his 8 levels in Woodcraft and 4 levels in Sneak he was quiet as a field mouse.

He decided that he would check his snares first. He could easily switch back to hunting if he caught wind of any animals during his search. When he came across his first snare, he found it empty.

Knowing he wouldn’t be able to check it again he quickly disabled his trap and continued towards his next one. This trap he was quite fond of as it was by far his most successful yet. He had set it up on a small trail that led through a tight grove of thickets. It was a pain to get to but he was normally paid for the effort.

“Damn”

When he came upon his trap it was utterly destroyed, something had already laid claim to his prize. Cursing his luck, he inspected his snare, or what was left of it, the only thing remaining was the spring bow he used to hoist whatever tripped the snare up into the air. When he looked closely at the ground, he noticed fresh blood splattered on the leaves that littered the forest floor. His tracking skill flared in his mind and the blood glowed.

“I might not be so unlucky after all”, he said quietly to himself.

He tracked the blood for a few minutes until the trail of blood started to wane. His tracking skill dimmed as he tried to follow what he thought were fox prints, without his skill he couldn’t determine if he were on the right track, but he decided to just follow the game trail he was on until it disappeared. If he didn’t find anything he would just move on to his next set of traps.

As he approached a clearing, he could hear an aggressive yapping sound through the trees. He followed the sounds a clearing abandoning his tracking skill as he crept closer to the tree line. Breaching the edge of the clearing still hidden by his Sneak skill, he saw two red foxes fighting over half eaten rabbit carcass. The foxes were circling each other baring their fangs snarling at one another, the larger one snapping at his rival when he one shot towards him with short bursts of speed.

He dropped his pack quietly to the ground and pulled his bow and arrow out of his quiver, he quietly drew back his bow. Sighting down his arrow, he aimed for the red fox farthest away, he was hoping that with any luck, he would get off a shot at the closer fox as well.

“Thoom” a quiet sound rang in his ears as he released his arrow. It was as if time slowed down for even just a few moments as his arrow streaked towards his prey. A deep thud rung out across the clearing as it entered the fox’s liver and to Jackson it sounded like a victory bell as it echoed off the tree line.

Having heard the first and second set of sounds the second fox wasted no time, still holding the rabbit in its jaws, it tore off across the clearing. He quickly drew and nocked another arrow; the fox was a good fifty yards away, quickly heading out of his range, he hastily aimed shot missed its mark, this time his had luck failed, and he watched the arrow land just short of its target.

Still, he was pleased with himself, that first shot had to have been from nearly sixty-five yards away and his target had been moving, nonetheless. He quickly collected his two arrows and started prepping the fox for transport, with a thankful prayer on his lips he checked prompts.

Congratulations for properly identifying fox tracks you have earned +1 skill to Tracking.

He checked his tracking skill.

Tracking 4 - this skill grants you the ability to track animals and other beings, 8% increase to tracking ability.

Moving onto his combat log:

Jackson strikes level 1 fox for 22 dmg. [((base 6 dmg x 1.05 for agility x 1.05 for archery x 1.08 for skill woodcraft) x1.5 for surprise attack x2 for striking vital organ]

Level 1 Fox dies.

After placing his items into his tattered pack, he flung the fox over his shoulder and moved on to check the rest of his traps. They didn’t disappoint him as he found another rabbit and a large squirrel. He wouldn’t bother resetting his traps since he doubted Carn would ever venture out this far to check them, let alone be able to locate them in the first place.

As it was few hours before noon Jackson decided to head to the village, he still needed to stop at the butcher shop to drop off his latest haul. The butcher had already secretly preparing three deer and another fox for him from similar outings in the past.

The small animals he trapped he would bring home for dinner. Mostly to ensure he kept food on the table, but he also wanted to keep Carn from getting too suspicious. Jackson was too good of a woodsman at this point to consistently fail in his outings and being as observant as he was, he didn’t want even a glimmer of suspicion crossing the blacksmith’s mind. Carn was an extremely proud individual and as generous as the mas was, he down right opposed to receiving any charity himself.

The man would give you the shirt off his back, but it be a fool hardy thing to offer him the same in kind. It was because of this that he had arranged for the butcher to delivery the meat long after he left for Meridian, that way Jackson could make sure Carn wouldn’t have the chance to refuse his gifts.

The walk to the village from his hunting grounds was a long one, the nearly six-mile walk took him two hours to accomplish. Normally you could walk that distance in an hour but being burdened by his pack and the fox had taken quite a toll on him. Thankfully, the forest was quite flat otherwise it would have taken him even longer.

He finally broke through the trees and into a large field of wheat, the rolling hills gave him a clear view of the village which had spread out just in front of him. It was just that a small collection of fifteen or so buildings in varying states of repair all surrounded by a ten-foot-tall log wall. The wall stood out as a constant reminder of what he lost, because it was a newer addition to the village, one they built after his family had perished.

Which was why you could find two farms surrounded the village, one on each side, this only added to the protection of the village though. It was quite a clever concept; the wall protected the people, and the farms gave the village a buffer where guards could foresee a raid from much farther away from their vantage point atop the wall.

He approached the gate, waving to the local guard, who paid him no mind as he entered the village. The butcher lived on near the edge on the east of the village, even though the village wasn’t excessively big, he still was not looking forward to the walk from the west gate to get to his shop. Carrying an increasingly heavy carcass for the last few miles had become a real drag sometimes literally. Now that he was on a dirt road instead of the woods, he refused to set it down, he just adjusted the straps digging into his shoulders and trudged on.

He passed the first couple buildings, waving too a few of the local women, most of which put a sad smile on there face and waved back. The men all either worked the farms or had another trade that took them and their skills elsewhere. After a while he stopped waving, by now he was used to the pity the villagers showed him, but that didn’t mean he had to like it. He was like Carn in the sense, he was not looking for sympathy or charity.

After carrying the Fox for miles, his brow was dripping in sweat and his breath was ragged but, in the end, it seems to have at least one unforeseen benefit.

Congratulations through your hard work and effort you have gained +1 Strength!

“That brings my strength up to six!”

Pausing in the street he could feel his body grow stronger, the excitement of gaining a new attribute point had reenergized him, readjusting his load he continued on noticing how much easier it had become to carry the Fox. He was still tired, but he found himself standing a little straighter than before.

He was never an overly buff guy and at a height of six feet tall he looked rather scrawny and being fleeter footed than clumsy, people often described him to move with with the grace of a Saber Cat rather than the domineering strut of a Mountain Bear. His last prompt seemed to be just the distraction he needed because he had finally made it to his destination.

There was no sign or definitive marker on the building stating it was a butcher shop. It had looked exactly like all the other houses in the village, sawn wood boards overlapped each other before giving way to a thatched roof. The only difference was that this building was twice the size of the other typical houses in the village, and behind it stood large wooden pens to segment the animal’s people periodically dropped off to be processed.

The butcher’s name was Bruce that fact had never failed to put a smile on his face. He always had a weird way of looking at the world and making random connections to things, like the way numbers would work out perfectly in a sequence or how words and names seemed to just fit a person’s personality.

Hearing voices coming from the open door leading to the parlor where Bruce conducted most of his business distracted him from his musings. He quickly looped around to the back of the building in order to avoid the front of the shop. He couldn’t stomach any more pity parties the villagers were so keen on throwing for him as of late. It was almost as if they knew he was leaving, and they wanted to profess their sorrow at his circumstances just one more time before he goes.

It was one of the things he looked forward to the most when he thought about leaving the small village behind. A fresh start was exactly what he needed in order to honor the memories of the past. He couldn’t wait until he was on his own, without the prejudices or preconceived notions people might place on him. To be his own man in a world where his actions would dictate his own worth. Just the thought of it was liberating and put an easy smile on his face.

Bruce was one of the few people in the village that treated him with any sense of decorum and respect, and even that was born out of hard work and sweat on Jacksons part. That alone was enough cause for Jackson to admire the man, wishing he had some way to thank him before he left. It was that very thought that was interrupted as he neared the back door.

“Jackson!!!” Teresa exclaimed as she dove out the back door, to Jackson it was a miracle the door hadn’t broken when she busted out of it. She showed the same enthusiasm as she sped up to him throwing her arms around him in a tight hug. Her strawberry blonde hair was braided in a plait down her back. This five-foot nothing girl barreled into Jackson so hard, it nearly knocking them both down. It was only thanks to his new strength that they both didn’t collapse into a pile of tangle limbs and bloody carcasses.

As Jackson stumbled backwards unbalanced as he was, he caught a whiff of her lavender scent. He quickly found his footing before they both fell. He couldn’t really hug her back since he was carrying a dead fox over his shoulder, so a one-armed side hug would have to do.

“Hi” was all he said as he awkwardly waited for her to let go. Oddly enough, it was always Teresa who seemed to be the one to greeting him when ever he came to unload his wares.

“Dad told me to keep an eye out for you.” She said as she released him. “He said that you are leaving soon.” She sounded sad but didn’t even seem to care that she had gotten his dirt and dried blood all over her light blue dress.

“Yeah, I plan on leaving tomorrow, but can you keep it down I don’t want everyone else to know.” Jackson stated as he walked through the opened back door.

Stepping into Bruce’s back room was a blast to the senses, carcasses hung from hooks on the ceiling and knives littered the walls of the large room. The smell of spices and curing meats stung his nose. Bruce was extremely anal when it came his shop. Everything was clean and well kept, but that didn’t stop it from smelling like a carnal house. Jackson envied the butcher’s ability to work so immaculately. He could never see himself working in an environment like this, he was much to chaotic and it was probably why he made such a bad smith.

He dropped the fox onto a table alongside a wall and prepared to head out. He knew that even without needing to speak with the Bruce, the job would be taken care of. He also trusted the man’s word, to drop off the meat for Carn after he had left for Meridian.

When he spun around to leave, Teresa grabbed his hand and looked longingly into his eyes. Their two families had always been close, he and his father worked closely together being a Butcher and a Woodsmen, respectively.

It seemed as if the whole village at one point decided that Jackson and Teresa would get married, but after his family had died, he had a single-minded obsession to get stronger. Before he could really let someone in, he had to be able to protect them. He would never let himself fall for someone until he knew that he couldn’t lose them forever because he wasn’t strong enough.

“Teresa”, Jackson said with a dead pan voice, “I need to go.”

He could see the tears forming in her eyes, as she dropped his hands and ran out of the room. With a sign, Jackson stepped out of the shop and headed for home.