Survivor's Chronicles [Episode 1 - The Mediocre Beginning]

[taskette]

Disclaimer:
This story is entirely fictional. All names (except for my own) are either under copyrights of MAIET, or have been approved by the involved individuals. Locations in the stories are based off names under copyrights of MAIET as well. Any relation to real life incidents are entirely coincidental. Stories may contain gore, violence, and other mature themes. Viewer discretion is advised.

Note:
The entire story is told in a first person's perspective. All thoughts, speech and actions are all in a first person perspective unless said otherwise.

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Survivor's Chronicles [Episode 1 - The Mediocre Beginning]
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“Once upon a time, there was a young boy who lived in a cottage. He lived happily with his parents…”

As if that ever happens in real life. What, you were expecting a fairy tale beginning and ending? You can’t always get what you want, no matter how desirable it may be. That’s how reality is, isn’t it? What separates the adventurers from the others? What does it take to become a real adventurer? Memories of lost ones, hopes of new friends, deceit of pretenders, anger from enemies, all play a part in keeping the adventurers ahead of the common folk. What makes a monster? What makes a man? And who said that women do not play a vital role in the world?

Anyway, allow me to introduce myself. I’m James Pakarda. Field name is Jamada. My experience and stories on the battlefield do not add up to much, in comparison to the Astra history pages that we find in the libraries these days – about Ryswick the Great, El-Tracass, the Industrial Cataclysm, the division of land between Travia and Axium, among many others. But I'm not one to talk about history that has happened a couple of centuries ago. Rather, I'm here to talk about my past, my experiences. This is my story. The untold story.

Based on my experience, plenty of things have occurred, even in such a short time. I started venturing out of my home when I was close to my late teenage years. Considering the fact that my home was in the mountain areas, far away from most of civilization, it took me six weeks just to get to the closest town. It was the first time in years that I had visited a town. The name of the town is quite vague to me now, but I remember, that town was where I enrolled into some sort of institution which had the purpose of helping adventurers to start off. The path I had chosen to take was just beginning at that point.

At the institution, we were given basic training in many different aspects; how to stretch our physical capabilities to extreme limits, basic firearms training, melee combat, and several others. I wondered in the first week, whether this place was really intending to teach us on how to become adventurers. Rather, this institution was more like a military academy. All trainees were made to wear the standard issue training top and pants. What surprised me, however, was the fact that the clothing actually felt heavy, for there was Kevlar or some sort sewn underneath the fabric. Apparently, the clothing was being made into armor. Why it was so, I wasn’t too sure back then.

Six months down the road at the institution, and the initial crowd from the first day of the institution’s orientation had thinned out. Out of over ten thousand who had enrolled, only less than two hundred remained. Mind you, it was no small feat for me to have remained in there. The institution posed a 17% fatality rate amongst their trainees, and an 80% dropout rate from the survivors. Even though I was still fresh, I already bore scars over my arms and back, since I took several slashes and shots throughout the mock battles. I could have considered myself lucky, but as the instructor said, “Luck only saves you in miracles. Everything else is your own doing.”

Anyway, the remainder of the survivors each earned a pair of bracelets and a dog tag, which I still keep with me until this day. Those accessories, though it seems quite unimportant, actually acknowledges our status as adventurers. We have freedom to travel between both countries of Axium and Travia. Under a secret agreement, both governments have decided to permit unrestricted access to adventurers only.

Before I carry on, I should mention on why I decided to become one. Basically, my father was an adventurer as well. He was one of the first few who had ‘pioneered’ from Axium. His father, along with his grandfather, had served under the Ryswick family. As far as my father’s side of the family is concerned, I only know that my great, great grandfather had been killed in El-Tracass. Thus, I’m following in the footsteps of my forefathers, though I don’t hope to die anytime soon like them.

My mother, on the other hand, worked as a train guard back in the day. The rest of her history still remains a mystery, though I was sure that my father had some clue about it. He never told me even until the day he passed on. Well, that would be one of the unanswered questions in my life. Not as if that is quite uncommon to me.

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Upcoming: Survivor's Chronicles [Episode 2 - Of Adversaries and Acquaintances]

[Admiral]

I have one constructive criticism.

If you are writing it in first person, write as if it was actually someone speaking. You have several unnecessary addendums that explain details that most readers will understand anyway. Because of this, it takes away any illusion that a fictional character is telling the story rather than an author. For example:

"I’m James Pakarda. Field name is Jamada, which is obviously derived from my name."

The bolded section is unnecessary, and seems like something you wouldn't say if you were describing yourself. There are other instances of this same problem throughout, if you want to see some more I'll help to point them out.

[taskette]

Hmm hmm, good point. I'm kinda new into writing in a first person perspective. Most stories I've done elsewhere were usually in a third person POV. Thanks for pointing it out.

Mind PMing me any extra details to alter? Thanks. ^_~

[Nosedagger]

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