Conall Jeffries was an average man. He lived an average life. He worked an average job. He had an average amount of friends. He had an average amount of college debt. He had an average amount of depression for someone at the ripe old age of twenty six. All in all, average.
He lived in Glendale, in the cosy state of Wisconsin. His home consisted of an average apartment, with just enough room for one man, his bed, and a high-end coffee maker. He got breakfast every morning in the form of a pastry from the bakery across the street. He raided the company pantry at work for lunch and dinner. Granola bars and water bottles for almost every meal was an acquired taste, but one he had.
He stood just under six feet tall, but was usually slouched enough to shave off an inch or two. He had a mop of brown hair, tousled just enough to look like he cared about his appearance. He had a pair of bright green eyes, set in an altogether bland face. His attire was almost always business casual, fit over a frame that was slightly more athletic than one would expect.
Like any urban white guy whose job consisted of nothing but answering emails in a cubicle for eight hours a day, every day, he had a hobby. Something to break the monotony of clients and budgets and quotes. It was required in this line of work, in order to not go mad from boredom.
Some chose fishing, or golf, or building a deck. Sailing, or poker, or fixing up an old car. Reading, or grilling, or trying to do a better job with your kids than your parents did with you.
Personally, Conall enjoyed the occasional weekend camping trip. Just him, some supplies, and the wilderness. Though he still enjoyed the comforts of modern living, he might even consider himself a bit of a woodsman. He knew how to start a fire, some basic navigation tricks, and how to make a snare trap in a pinch. The result of too much time on his hands and unlimited access to Internet tutorials.
This coming trip was shaping up to be just splendid. He had saved up more days off than he usually did, so he would be going further into the woods than usual. The further he could get from civilization, and by extension social interaction, the better.
And he had gone all out on supplies this time as well. A compass, a flashlight, a few different types of knives, some rope, the always lovely granola bars and water bottles, and of course his tent.
The tent was a beautiful thing. It was a nice dark gray, with those neat mesh windows going all around it. It had a pole in the center as well as the usual side ones, allowing it to be quite a bit larger than necessary. It had been double the price of his coffee maker, but a worthwhile investment. The tent would have easily fit two people, let alone one man and his sleeping bag. A little indulgence was nice sometimes.
The best part about all his camping supplies was just how compact he could get it. Everything but the tent fit into a hiking backpack, and the tent had a shoulder sling much like that of a duffel bag. Though it was still unwieldy, all the modern materials made it light enough to carry on one shoulder.
So, after getting his breakfast and packing his supplies, Conall set off. With his backpack and tent dangling off his form and a thermos of coffee in hand, he started his hike into the woods. Due to all his previous camping and hiking trips, he could definitely be described as fit. So even carrying all his gear, the man managed a brisk pace through the woods as he went over his plan.
So, the schedule is rather simple. I take today to make it further into the woods, and then spend the text three days after that camping. It'll take me a day to get back, so that's five days in total. I plan on making full use of them. Isolation, here I come.
Making his way through the woods was a practiced and easy endeavor at this point, but Conall couldn't help but slow his pace, just to gaze at all the wildlife around. Birds, squirrels, and even a lone raccoon watched as he made his way further into the forest, lit by the slowly setting sun.
There was an incredible variety of birds in the area. He had no idea what any of them were, but there were a lot. Trills, squawks, and hoots filled the air as the winged population either settled down for the day or started getting ready for the night. Small forms flitted between the branches, chasing or being chased.
The squirrels were far more uniform, although also boring. They ran from branch to branch, sometimes in possession of the invaluable treasure that was a nut. At the very least, there was a small difference between the brown and the gray ones. It broke the sense that somebody had just copy-pasted each squirrel into place.
The raccoon actually made him pause. It had a devious look on its little face, as if hatching a diabolical plot. It was also staring directly at him. He soon dismissed it for just a weird animal, but he couldn't shake the sense that the raccoon had been planning something. At least it didn't follow him.
As it got darker, Conall decided to make camp. He found a suitable clearing and set up the tent. Once the palace of canvas and fiberglass was set up, he got nice and cozy inside.
A sleeping bag and small blanket had been tied to the side of his backpack, and now he got them out. With those, along with a nice paperback he had brought along and the dregs of coffee in the thermos, he was finally camping.
The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
He sat like that for a while, reading a few chapters as he nursed the last few sips of his drink. Camping was his one true escape. Who would take some boring office job over this? Not him, that was for sure.
After he started to feel the coffee wear off, the mad decided it was time to get some sleep. It was going to be a wonderful few days, and he couldn't wait to wake up.
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He woke up with a burning, shooting pain throughout his whole body. Fight or flight kicking in, he scrambled to escape, first from the sleeping bag and then from the tent. He laid there panting on the dirt as the pain slowly faded, gasping for breath. Eventually, he became lucid enough to notice a strange blue shape on the edge of his vision.
Before he managed to take a better look at it, he heard a scratchy hiss. His head whipped to his left, and he saw it. Entering the clearing, the raccoon stalked towards him.
It had changed, that much was obvious. It had doubled in size, and its claws were looking rather deadly. However, the most concerning part was the blood-red mist that drifted off its fur. That, along with the pure crimson orbs of its eyes, clued Conall in that something was very, very wrong.
With speed that it should not be capable of, it jumped at him. Still reeling from the pain and shock, he had no chance of getting out of the way. Instead, he raised his arms in front of him in a desperate attempt to keep it away.
That proved, rather quickly, to be a mistake.
For a moment, he didn't even realize that it had mauled him. Its claws went through with so little resistance, surely it had just missed. But then, its claws hit bone, and the pain forced him to realize just what had happened. Its claws had gone through half his arm like it wasn't even there.
The beast wasn't done, and sent another swipe at his shoulder. Yet again, it only stopped once it hit bone. In that moment, all that Conall wanted from life was some way to protect himself. A shield, a bracer, even a stick would do! But life rarely listened to the ones forced to live it.
He reached behind himself, desperately grasping for something, anything to get it away. And he found, well, something. A rock, to be specific. With the raccoon preparing another devastating swipe, he did the only thing he thought he could.
He swung.
The stone hit the raccoon's snout with all the strength his not-sliced arm could muster, making it flinch and shy away.
He swung again.
This time, it just made the beast angry, and another swipe removed a flap of skin before being stopped against his ribs.
He swung again.
The swing hit the raccoon perfectly in the temple, and it crumpled slightly.
He swung again.
It hit the ground.
He swung again.
And again.
And again.
It was dead.
And sitting there with wounds that could only be described as fatal, Conall took a breath. And then, the screens rushed in.
Congratulations!
Earth had been selected for System integration.
Further information will be revealed as objectives are completed.
You have slain a Demented Raccoon!
+15 XP
Progress to Level 1: 15/10
You have reached Level 1!
+1 Skill Point
For every Level you achieve, you will receive one Skill Point.
Skill Points may be used to acquire new Skills or raise the Level of an existing Skill by one.
You have no Skills.
Selecting new Skill...
Taking User wishes into account...
Skill acquired: Tough Skin Lv.0!
Congratulations!
For becoming the very first being on your planet to gain a Level, you have been awarded five free Levels and one free Skill!
You have reached Level 6!
+5 Skill Points
Skill acquired: Quick Healing Lv.0