Gabriel Ezekiel Atkins grew up on a rural farm and ranch deep in the middle of Texas. Every day he woke up early, and worked till dusk, tending the animals, weeding the fields, and planting and harvesting crops. Work was the man's life as a bona-fide all-American Cowboy. 'Gabe', as his friends would call him, was a man of simple tastes; he enjoyed riding his chestnut stallion named Murray, shootin' his guns, smokin', drinkin', and chewin', watching the NFL and classic John Wayne movies, and relaxing to some good old country strumming. However, busy as the man was, he was quite the hobbyist-- a crackshot with the classic six-shooter pistol; well known for especially sharp eyesight, he would enter several small marksmanship competitions in his early twenties and won each time with ease. His other most notable talent, was with a lasso, which he had mastered in his teens to dazzle the ladies with impressive lasso tricks. This exceptional skill with the iconic western tool was what led him to eventually find his best friend in life-- who at the time was a beautiful wild colt; barely older than a foal, but as tough as a bull that was roaming daily just barely on the outskirts of the ranch. At first sight, the 18 year old Gabe snuck up on the sleeping horse that very night and lassoed the incredible creature. He fought with the horse till sunrise, trying to wrestle the animals back to a fenced area in the ranch, eventually succeeding, but breaking his leg in the process. Over the years the two created a strong bond, and although Murray was still a little unruly at times, Gabe liked it that way, as it reminded him of that first fateful night.

As the young man grew older, he eventually picked up playing the guitar, often falling asleep on his porch with a beer as he played to his precious horse. But sadly, as was life, all good things had to end, and so they did when Murray was bitten by a copperhead, and in an almost poetically cruel twist of fate, Gabe was forced to put the horse down. It was his 30th birthday that day.

For five long years Gabe became distant, and fell into a deep depression, nearly working himself to death to hide from the pain he felt at the loss of his lifelong friend. Yet again, fate decided to throw the dying man a lifeline, in the form of a massive, fully grown wild black stallion meandered on the outskirts of the ranch; just as Murray once had. The long snuffed out flame in Gabe's heart surged forth once more as he immediately went for the horse and lassoing it. He was found dead six miles from the ranch, having been dragged three miles from the ranch before his head struck a rock, killing him, yet even in death, his knuckles were white as his hands refused to release their grip on the lasso for three miles further.

On the Sunday after his death, Gabe was laid to rest next Murray's grave, buried with his guitar, and his pistols 'Bonnie and Clyde' that had been made for him by his uncle (who was a gunsmith) as a gift for his twelfth birthday.

Yet, funnily enough, God-- or something far more sinister, had no intention of letting the man rest just yet...

Upon coming into the New World, Gabe; patient a man as he was, was pretty damn quick to become fed up with how clueless all the other goblins were, and there were very few greenskins whose company he could tolerate. Even before he had become fully aware of himself, Gabe had been waking up every day before almost all the other goblins, and wasted no time building his own humble shelter separate from the rest of the goblins, far enough away that they wouldn't bother him, nor fuck up the little farmland he was beginning to try making, but not so far that predators would consider him easy prey.

With a rake made of vines and sturdy sticks, Gabe roughly tilled a 7x7 plot of soil, and began planting everything he found in this area of the forest that seemed to be edible. However, his efforts were constantly fucked up by other monsters, be they goblin or otherwise. And so, the Texan found the biggest, thickest, strongest vines he could, and went to work, splitting them into thin strands, and twisting them into rope, before treating his rope with tree pitch. The thinner rope was woven into a sling similar to the one he'd often use to hunt small birds when he was ten, the thicker, stronger rope was fashioned into a trusty lasso. Lucky for Gabe, some cheeky little fucker thought he was hot shit, and as per usual decided to help himself to what Gabe was trying to plant. Lassoing the little green fucker by the neck, and dragging him to the ground before planting his heel on the thief's shoulder as he looked him dead in the eye. The goblin in question had a nice belt, and so, Gabe being a forgiving fellow, decided to take it, and let the culprit off with a warning that next time- it would be a finger he'd be taking.

He saw fewer goblins from that point forward trying their luck.

Once again, Gabe started to feel that loneliness creeping in on him, eating away at his core as he began having to wait on the crops. And so he did what he always did, worked. Finding some dead, dry wood, he spent a whole day constructing a 10x10 pen, making a simple gate of two pegs that could be pulled out, and a board that could be pulled out of the notched top of the two logs that acted as the sides of the gate. It wasn't increadibly durable by any means, but it would (probably) hold what he had in mind. There weren't any horses around, but there were those strange deer kicking about...

That night almost ended on a high note, as he killed a dire rat with his sling as it tried to steal from him. It was a sizable one too, and was going to make some damn good boots-- or would've had the hairy monkey looking fucker not suddenly decided that he was hungry. Gabe tried to put up a fight, but was out cold when a single punch from 'monkey fucker' split open Gabe's right cheek all the way to the ear.

He learned three things that night; he couldnt beat that monkey bastard in a fight, that those green plants helped heal wounds pretty well, and that the blue flowers, which he'd landed on and gotten a mouthful of-- provided a mighty fine headtap. The next morning, he had a big scar on his cheek, and just enough salvageable hide from the monkey fucker's little meal, to make a small side pouch (which Gabe sewed onto his belt) to hold rocks for his sling, and the rest was scraped clean, dehaired with hot charcoal, and set on a roughly carved piece of wood, but otherwise untreated, and left to stiffen in the sun. Soon hed have his cowboy hat.

After packing his lip with some of his newfound 'blue snuff', he set up some sticks into a drying rack to dry out some of the petals he'd harvested to dry in the sun.

He spotted his prize as he finished it.

A small one of those deer, it wasnt mature, or growing antlers yet, and it had a coloration that almost reminded him of Murray. Getting as close as he could to it, he prayed to god that he'd have the strength to wrangle this deer into his pen. His lasso had flown true and wrapped tightly to the young deer. They wrestled for hours before he finally managed to corral the thing into the pen, as the hard work he'd been doing made him a bit stronger than the average goblin... But nonetheless, he was satisfied, and exhausted. For the remainder of the day, Gabe spent his time resting, and caring for the deer. It wouldn't let him get close, but it would accept food and water he gave it, only if he set it down and moved away. Hell, with a stroke of luck this good, Gabe wouldn't have been surprised if a mountain outright exploded the following day...

Needless to say, he didn't expect it'd actually happen.

Light Equipment Use(--)

Crafting I(1.0)

Stronger I(1.0)

Keen Eye I(0.25)

Overwork(0.2)

Harder(0.3)