Chase glared at the text box floating in front of him, annoyed that the voice or whatever had finally deigned to speak again. He'd almost been killed, and now there was all this talk about ranks and levels, and it didn't help that he'd apparently gained a total of six levels and was expected to allocate the points somewhere.
“Can I get some goddamn directions or instructions on how any of this shit works? This is fucked!” he snapped at the sky, hoping that wherever the voice was, it would respond.
Nothing. With a growl, Chase forced himself to his feet, pulling the point of the pickax from the giant mountain lion's skull, making his way back to the cabin with its now ruined front door. More importantly, to the first aid kit that a cousin was religious about making sure was fully stocked at all times. Chase stumbled into the cabin, his adrenaline fading and the pain from his wounds intensifying with each step. He rummaged through the cabinets until he found the large red bag marked with a white cross.
Tearing it open, he dumped the contents on the kitchen table – gauze, bandages, antiseptic, painkillers. With shaking hands, he popped open the pill bottle and downed a few tablets dry, then set to work cleaning and dressing the deep gashes across his chest, arms, and leg where the mountain lion's claws had torn through his flesh.
As he wrapped the last bandage around his forearm, the glowing text box reappeared, hovering insistently. Chase scowled at it. The damned thing apparently wasn't going to leave him alone until he dealt with these so-called ‘Available Characteristics.’
He scanned the options presented: Strength, Vitality, Resilience, Agility, Intellect, Cunning, Presence, and Fateblessed. Not a single one of them had a description, but Chase could more or less guess what they represented. The odd one out was Fateblessed, which his best guess was that it was some sort of luck mechanic. If it wasn't, he had no idea what it was.
Pushing that aside, as his bandaged wounds twinged, he fiddled about with the text box in front of him. Pulling up his 'character sheet', he started by pushing a finger into Vitality. Immediately, the screen shrank.
Vitality: 35 (Base: 30 | +2 | +12%)
Increase Base Characteristic: +1 | +5 | +10
Humming to himself, Chase tapped his choices, seeing the numbers shoot up.
Vitality: 50 (Base: 45 | +2 | +12%)
Increase Base Characteristic: +1 | +5 | +10
He left it there for the time being, instead calling back the previous screen and tapping his next choice.
Resilience: 39 (Base: 33 | +2 | +12 %)
Increase Base Characteristic: +1 | +5 | +10
That got a ten point increase, causing his final Resilience to shoot to 48. Next, he moved to Strength and put the remaining five points he had available into it, resulting in his final Strength score to sit at 38.
With his points allocated, Chase dismissed the floating text box with a wave of his hand. He felt different, somehow stronger and more solid, like his body had been infused with a new vitality. The pain from his wounds seemed more distant now, more manageable.
He stood up from the kitchen table, testing his balance. His muscles responded with a reassuring firmness. Whatever this strange new reality was, at least it seemed to follow some sort of video game logic. Spend points, get stronger. Simple enough.
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Chase's mind raced as he paced the cabin's small living room. He had a suspicion that there were going to be more dangers out in the woods, and with his car not working, he didn’t have the option to head for civilization. Which meant that he was effectively trapped at the cabin, at least for the foreseeable future.
He sighed, considering his options and supplies. He had enough food to last, at most, a week, and there were enough materials and supplies on the property that he was confident in fixing the door. As far as weapons went, the pickax and an old hatchet were probably the only viable ones. He would need to be prepared, and that meant figuring out how the hell he was going to survive the next few months.
With reluctance, his gaze slid towards the shed, where the giant mountain lion corpse was. It sent a shiver of repulsion down his spine, but really, what other options did he have? He had grown up hunting, but his hunting rifles and bows had been sent ahead of him in his preparations for the move. Which left him with very few options.
A sigh left Chase's mouth as he made his way back to the shed. There would be some hooks and rope in there that he could use to hang the mountain lion in order to skin and butcher it. It was a good thing he'd had his kitchen stuff in his car, as while they weren't the best on the market, he made sure to keep the knives in the knife block sharp.
Dragging the tiger sized body out of the shed was a pain, but after about half an hour he got it to a tree a decent distance from the cabin with a branch that looked like it'd serve his purposes. Returning to the shed, he got the hooks and rope he needed and set them down at the skinning site. Then, with the pickax in hand, he went back to his car and began to pull out boxes until he reached the one that had his knife block in it.
With the knife block in hand, Chase returned to the skinning site, eyeing the massive mountain lion corpse with a mix of trepidation and determination. He had skinned plenty of deer and elk before, but never a creature this large or this… unnatural.
Setting the block down, he selected the largest knife, its blade gleaming in the morning sunlight. Taking a deep breath, he approached the carcass and began the messy work of skinning and butchering the beast. It was a slow, laborious process, and more than once Chase had to fight back the urge to gag from the unnatural stench as he peeled back layers of flesh and sinew.
Hours passed, and by the time he was finished, the sun was beginning to dip below the treeline. Chase stood back, surveying his handiwork. The mountain lion's pelt was stretched out on the ground, and neat piles of meat sat on a tarp nearby, ready to be stored. It wasn't pretty, but it would keep him fed for a good while.
As much as he wanted to put the meat away and collapse, he couldn’t yet. The cabin didn’t have a fridge or freezer, so he needed to start up a fire in order to smoke the meat into jerky. Heading back to the shed, he pulled out a few more pieces of equipment, a grill rack, and an old campfire pot. Then he returned to the skinning site, setting everything up so that the meat could be smoked and the pelt could be salted.
While the meat smoked and the pelt was being treated, Chase sat down, feeling the exhaustion and strain of the day catching up to him. He closed his eyes, his mind wandering as he drifted off into a fitful sleep.
~*~*~*~
In his dreams, Chase wandered the forest, the shadows closing in around him. The trees loomed above him, their branches twisted and gnarled, their leaves a sickly shade of green. A chill wind whispered through the boughs, sending a shiver down his spine.
Something was watching him. He could feel it. Something ancient and terrible, lurking just beyond the edge of his sight.
He picked up his pace, his boots crunching on the fallen leaves beneath his feet. The shadows deepened as Chase hurried through the twisted forest of his dreams. The wind grew colder, carrying with it a fetid, rotting stench that made his stomach turn. He glanced over his shoulder, heart pounding, certain that something was pursuing him, drawing closer with each labored breath.
A twig snapped nearby, echoing like a gunshot in the eerie stillness. Chase whirled around, expecting to see some nightmarish beast lunging from the shadows. But there was nothing. Just the endless expanse of gnarled trees and sickly foliage.
Then, a voice, ancient and rasping, whispered through the branches, “.̴͐.̵̅.̸ͤ𝑴̢̈́𝒖̑͜𝑺̃͟𝒕͌͘.̑͜.̊͡.̉͟𝑭̵͌𝒆̨ͨ𝑬͌͢𝒅̡ͯ.̇̀.̴ͣ.̨̃”
Abruptly, Chase awoke, a cold sweat dripping down his forehead. He looked around wildly, his heart racing, but the only sound was the crackling of the fire and the soft rustle of pine needles in the wind. With a shuddering sigh, he slumped against the log he'd been sitting on, trying to slow his breathing.
It was just a dream. It was just a dream.
He repeated the mantra in his mind, even as the shadows of the night seemed to creep closer, as if eager to consume him. Running a hand through his hair, Chase glanced at the sky. The moons were high overhead, their pale and green light casting long shadows across the forest floor.
He took a deep breath, letting the cool night air fill his lungs. Slowly, his heartbeat began to return to normal, the panic from his dream receding. But he knew that no matter how hard he tried to ignore it, there was something else out there, something lurking in the darkness.
With a groan, he stood up and headed towards the cabin. It was going to be a long night.