Jade, Level 1 Peasant
Attributes:
Vigor: 2
Control: 2
Endurance: 2
Cunning: 2
Social: 3
Intelligence: 4
Skills:
One-Handed: 15
Polearm: 10
Leadership: 25
Steward: 20
Other Skills: 5-10 (baseline untrained)
Experience: 65/100
Inventory: Short spear, leather cap, rusty dagger, 4 denars
Numerius, Level 1 Peasant
Attributes:
Vigor: 4
Control: 2
Endurance: 2
Cunning: 2
Social: 2
Intelligence: 2
Skills:
Two-Handed: 25
Athletics: 15
Other Skills: 5-10
Experience: 60/100
Inventory: Heavy club, bent pitchfork, 3 denars
Nathaniel, Level 1 Peasant
Attributes:
Vigor: 2
Control: 2
Endurance: 2
Cunning: 2
Social: 4
Intelligence: 2
Skills:
Trade: 35
Stealth: 15
Charm: 20
Other Skills: 5-10
Experience: 55/100
Inventory: Rusty short sword, leather bracer, 5 denars
Yuzon, Level 1 Peasant
Attributes:
Vigor: 2
Control: 3
Endurance: 2
Cunning: 3
Social: 2
Intelligence: 2
Skills:
Bow: 20
Tactics: 20
Scouting: 15
Other Skills: 5-10
Experience: 60/100
Inventory: Battered shortbow, 6 arrows, 2 denars
Mataranas, Level 1 Peasant
Attributes:
Vigor: 2
Control: 2
Endurance: 5
Cunning: 2
Social: 2
Intelligence: 2
Skills:
Shield: 25
Athletics: 20
Other Skills: 5-10
Experience: 60/100
Inventory: Round wooden shield, padded vest, 3 denars
*****
The next day, Jade's crew stood in a ragged line, their new militia gear, leather caps, patched vests, and slightly less rusty weapons, looking more like hand-me-downs than armor. Torvald paced in front of them. His one good eye scanned the group, and his smirk said he wasn't impressed.
"Day two," Torvald said, his voice rough. "You're still breathing, so that's something. Don't expect me to go easy, though. Bandits don't care if you're tired or your arms hurt. Line up, same as yesterday, and hit those dummies like you mean it."
Jade gripped his short spear, its new spearhead catching the light. His Polearm skill had ticked up to 10 during yesterday's training, but his thrusts still felt clumsy, like he was poking at a piñata. He took a deep breath and stabbed at the straw dummy, earning a faint +1 Polearm ping.
Numerius was beside him, swinging his heavy club with wild enthusiasm. His Two-Handed skill was at 20, and he treated every swing like he was auditioning for a barbarian role. "Take that, dummy!" he bellowed, sending straw flying. Torvald swatted his back with a stick, making him yelp.
"Control, you oaf!" Torvald snapped. "You're fighting, not harvesting! Aim for the chest!"
Numerius grinned, unfazed, but adjusted his swing, earning a +1 Two-Handed ping. Jade couldn't help a small smile, Num's energy was infectious, even if it was chaotic.
Yuzon stood at the end of the line, nocking an arrow in his battered shortbow. His Bow skill was at 15, but his shots were still inconsistent, half of them thudding into the ground or sailing over the dummy. One arrow grazed the dummy's shoulder, and Torvald grunted, which was as close to praise as he got. "Keep your elbow up," he said, tapping Yuzon's arm. "You're not throwing darts." Yuzon nodded, his face focused, and his UI flashed +1 Bow.
Mataranas, holding his round wooden shield, was Torvald's favorite target. The big guy's Athletics was at 25, and his Shield skill had climbed to 15 from soaking up Torvald's test swings. "Brace, don't lean!" Torvald barked, slamming his stick against Mataranas's shield. The wood shuddered, but Mat held firm, his frame barely budging. His UI pinged +1 Shield, and Jade caught a rare grin on Mat's face.
Nathaniel, predictably, was struggling. His rusty short sword felt alien in his hands, and his One-Handed skill was only at 10. He swung at the dummy like he was swatting a fly, missing half the time. "This is pointless," he muttered, wiping sweat from his brow. Torvald overheard and whacked his shin with the stick.
"Whining won't block a blade," Torvald said. "Grip it tighter and swing through, not at it." Nathaniel grumbled but tried again, landing a weak hit that earned a +1 One-Handed ping. He looked surprised, like he hadn't expected to improve.
The drills shifted to formations, Torvald barking orders to move as a unit, shields up, spears forward. It was a disaster. Jade tripped over Numerius's feet, Yuzon nearly shot Nathaniel's hat off, and Nathaniel kept muttering about "OSHA would shut this down." Mataranas was the only one who got it right, holding the center like a rock while the others flailed. Torvald's stick was everywhere, correcting stances and punishing mistakes. By noon, the group was drenched in sweat, their muscles screaming, but their UIs showed small gains: Jade's Polearm hit 12, Numerius's Two-Handed reached 22, Yuzon's Bow climbed to 17, Mataranas's Shield ticked to 17, and Nathaniel's One-Handed crept to 12.
Torvald finally called a break, tossing them a waterskin. "You're less pathetic today," he said, which was practically a compliment. "Keep this up, and you might not die in a ditch. Back here tomorrow, same time." He stalked off, sharpening his dagger again, leaving the group panting in the dirt.
"Not dying in a ditch," Numerius said, gulping water. "That's the dream, right?"
"Speak for yourself," Nathaniel groaned, massaging his shin where Torvald's stick had left a bruise. "I'm one swing from quitting."
"You can't quit Calradia," Yuzon said, wiping his brow. "We're stuck until we figure this out. Training's our best shot."
Mataranas nodded, sipping water. "Feels like football camp. Just… with sticks."
Jade leaned against the fence, his spear propped beside him. "We're getting better. Slow, but better. If we keep grinding, we'll be ready for whatever's next."
"Next?" Nathaniel's voice cracked. "Like more bandits? I'm still sore from the last ones!"
Before Jade could reply, a voice rang out from the village square. "Nathaniel! Where are you?" It was high-pitched, urgent, and unmistakably female. The group turned to see a young woman sprinting toward the training yard, her brown hair bouncing in a braid, her apron flapping. She was maybe eighteen, with freckles and a determined look. Jade's crew froze, but Nathaniel's face went pale.
"Oh, no," he whispered. "That's gotta be—"
the girl shouted, spotting him. She vaulted the low fence with surprising grace and threw herself at Nathaniel, wrapping him in a hug that nearly knocked him over. "You're alive! Ma said you were fighting bandits, and I was so worried!"
Nathaniel stiffened, his arms flailing like he'd been attacked by a clingy octopus. "Uh, hi? I'm fine, I—" He froze as Hilda buried her face in his chest, then gagged as she pulled back, wrinkling her nose.
"Gods, you stink!" she said, shoving him away with both hands. "What is that, sweat and… mud? Have you been rolling in a pigpen?"
Numerius burst out laughing, nearly choking on his water. "Nate's got a girlfriend! And she's not a fan of his new cologne!"
"She's not my girlfriend!" Nathaniel sputtered, his face redder than a beet. "I don't even know her! My mom keeps nagging me about her, but—"
Hilda crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing. "Don't know me? Nathaniel, we've been neighbors forever! You promised to help with my family's harvest last spring, and then you vanished to fight bandits or whatever." She air-quoted the words, clearly unimpressed. "Ma says we're practically betrothed, but you're out here smelling like a stable."
"Betrothed?!" Nathaniel's voice hit a pitch that made a nearby chicken squawk. "Nobody told me about—look, Hilda, I'm not… I mean, I'm just…" He trailed off, looking to Jade for rescue.
Jade bit back a grin, trying to stay diplomatic. "Hilda, right? Nathaniel's just… training with us. For the militia. It's been a rough couple of days."
Hilda's gaze softened, but only slightly. "Militia, huh? Well, you look like you could use a bath. Especially you." She pointed at Nathaniel, who shrank back. "I came to check on you, but I'm not hugging you again until you wash. Ma wants you over for dinner tonight, by the way. Don't be late." She turned, braid whipping, and marched back toward the square, leaving Nathaniel gaping.
"Dinner?" he whimpered. "I'm doomed."
Numerius clapped him on the back, "Look at you, Nate! Dinner dates, betrothals, you're living the Calradian dream!"
"It's a nightmare," Nathaniel muttered, rubbing his face. "Why is my life here so complicated?"
Yuzon smirked, slinging his bow over his shoulder. "NPC backstories. You're probably coded to marry Hilda and farm turnips forever."
"Don't even joke about that," Nathaniel said, shuddering.
Jade chuckled, "Alright, enough about Nate's love life. We need to eat, rest, and prep for tomorrow's training. Hilda's right about one thing, we stink. Let's find a stream or something, then hit the hall for food."
The group nodded, their laughter fading as the reality of their situation settled back in. They trudged to a nearby stream, splashing cold water on their faces and scrubbing off the worst of the sweat and dirt. The village hall was quieter than the night before, with fewer villagers and simpler fare, bread, cheese, and watery ale. They ate quickly, swapping stories about their "families" and theorizing about the UI.
"I keep checking my Trade skill," Nathaniel said, nibbling bread. "It's at 35, I know its mechanic in the game, but what does that even mean here? Can I haggle my way out of Calradia?"
"Maybe you'll barter with a wizard," Numerius said, grinning. "Trade some denars for a portal home."
Yuzon sipped his ale, his eyes distant. "My Tactics is at 20. If we get in another fight, I might be able to set up something smarter than flail and pray.'"
Mataranas nodded, chewing slowly. "Athletics at 25 feels… good. Like I could run forever. Or block forever."
Jade leaned back, his Leadership at 25 giving him a quiet confidence.
As they left the hall, the sun was setting, painting the village in oranges and purples. Jade's crew split up, heading to their homes with promises to meet at the training yard tomorrow. Jade's small stone house was as bare as ever, but the straw bed felt like a luxury after the day's grind. He collapsed onto it, his spear leaning against the wall, and toggled his UI on. The Join the Village Militia quest glowed, its progress steady but slow. His Experience was at 70/100, close to leveling up.