Tutorial Instance 1855-CA Begins!
Survivors Remaining: 5000/5000
The man knew where he was, oddly enough. There was a cliff that ran not far away from the edge of a massive lake. As the sun rose in the East, he could - from its angle - tell he was somewhere on the Niagara Peninsula. Scrambling up a tree to get a better view, he was startled as a squirrel came charging out of a hole in the trunk and leaped at him!
George startled and lost his grip, plummeting from the branches and only just managing to get his fingers around a lower branch, slowing himself before he slammed into the ground.
For a brief moment, George’s world disappeared in a flash of pain and the ache of bruising, before he felt his raised Vitality going to work on it. Opening his eyes, he looked up to see the squirrel, chittering on its branch and shaking a fist at him.
“What?!” He shouted back through a groan of pain. “I was just climbing, you jerk!”
The squirrel, a red rodent with a greying belly, shook its fist harder before it was tackled from the side by a dark shape. The chittering rose in panic before cutting off with a sharp crack. George could only watch in astonishment as Nimbus clambered down the tree, squirrel in mouth, and deposited it at his feet, looking smugly up at him.
“Uh… Good boy?”
Nimbus preened in a circle and meowed at him. George gave him a pet and rose to his feet, stringing his bow and quickly realising he had no arrows. With a sigh, he unstrung the bow, tucked it into its protective case, and grabbed a thick stick off the ground. He gave it a few practice swings, satisfied with the heft and balance of the wood.
“George!” John burst through the brush, less manoeuvring through it and more forcing it to make way. Sarah came marching through the path he left behind and gave a friendly, if strained wave and smile.
“Hey guys! Glad you found me. Have either of you seen Mitch and Miriam?” George asked, wanting to reconvene as soon as possible.
“No, we just heard some noise from over here and came to check it out. I figured we’d all get dropped together.” John pondered.
“Did… Did you kill that?” Sarah pointedly didn’t look at the dead squirrel.
George looked over where his cat was worrying at the corpse, trying to get around the hair to eat. Still an indoor cat at heart, it seemed. “Oh, no Nimbus did it after I got knocked out of the tree. He’s a hunter, it seems.”
“You got knocked out of a tree by a squirrel?” John caught onto his favourite part of the explanation with mirth.
“Yep. Must have had a high level.” George glared at the question.
“It’s a squirrel.”
George shot back indignant. “Yea, and I said it pushed me out of the tree. What, you think I just fell down? I don’t fall, John.”
“Okay, buddy. Doesn’t matter an-” John’s teasing was cut off by a scream, and a faint ‘No, stay away!!’
The group looked at each other for the briefest moment before dropping the conversation and running through the forest, George quickly taking the lead with his Stats and experience. Something unspoken had passed between them.
It wasn’t long before the scream sounded again, this time in pain and desperation, and George pushed his legs to run faster, outpacing the rest of the group with a growled “Hurry up!”. He had nothing to use for a rescue except for a stick, but that would have to be enough.
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Miriam had decided pretty quickly that maybe she should have gone running in the fields with the boys. Of course, her mind listed all the health benefits to regular running: Improved cardiovascular system, the increased efficiency of her oxygenation process, general mental well-being increases, the list went on and on.
She could only think of one benefit she needed, though, as her legs burned with effort, struggling to propel her around trees and through thick brush to keep ahead of the panting and yipping behind her.
Coyotes. In some sort of sick, twisted joke, the System had plopped her right beside a pack of coyotes that had immediately got up from their rest and started pursuing her. She’d heard them from a distance back home, their barking and howling far away but close enough to hear at night when the windows were open. The sound always filled her with unease, and now, as it surrounded her, that unease turned to fear. She would finally live out her nightmare.
Willpower check failed!
Miriam felt the overwhelming urge to run faster, but as she was already at her top speed, she just did her best to make sure that the forest itself didn’t slow her down. Her heart dropped as her toe caught a hidden branch, but a stumble and a slam into a tree let her right herself, and she almost welcomed the pain in her shoulder.
It distracted her from the burn of her legs.
As the chase dragged on, Miriam’s fear fell away. One could only run in panic for so long, which was an odd thought to her. Risking a glance back, she almost stumbled as she saw the red coyote, not 5 feet from her heels. Instinctually, she tumbled to the side over a fallen branch, a sharp pain in her side flaring up.
She would take a small bruise over a coyote bite any day, though, and as the beast flew through the air, she realised she may have just died had she not moved. With a deep, calming breath, she listened for a brief moment, and could tell the rest of the pack was approaching. Turning to the coyote who had recovered from its leap, she glanced around hoping to find a rock or a stick or something to keep it away from her.
She saw a glint of steel, heard the stomping, then Mitchell burst out from behind a tree, shield held in both hands and a look of bright red rage on his face. Lifting the steel high, he cast it down upon the coyote, who backed away to avoid the blow but was not quick enough backwards to evade it completely.
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With a crack and a spray of blood, the edge of the shield fell onto the lupines neck rather than its back, and Mitchell raised the shield again. The coyote, mouth dribbling blood and with a pained yipping, ran off into the woods. Mitchell took a deep breath, glancing around to determine their safety before limping slightly over to Miriam. “I’m starting to think we should have brought weapons.”
Miriam just looked at him flatly, like she did when he made silly comments that only made sense if you willingly bought into the silly. In the interest of keeping her sanity and not thinking about the odd way she was thinking - slow, methodical, sequential - she deadpanned. “I can already tell soap was a much better choice.”
Mitchell looked confused, until she gestured in his direction and he looked down. He was covered in dirt, and a little bit of coyote blood. “True. Hey, have you found the washroom yet?”
“No, why?”
“Water?”
Miriam narrowed her eyes. “I’m still keeping the soap.”
“Even with- Argh!” Mitchell stumbled backwards, almost falling onto his face as the previously hidden form of a coyote yanked where it had bitten at his calf. Mitchell cursed furiously and tried to pull his leg free, but the coyote had its teeth through his pants and he was unable to free himself. “Fuckers have stealth or something!”
A growling behind him showed another coyote, sneaking up where Miriam still sat propped against a tree. Mitchell flung a nearby stick at it, his aim thrown off as the attached coyote yanked again and a brief worry of infection went through his head.
Miriam’s eyes followed the stick, then she let out a scream as the coyote leaped forwards at her, grabbing her hastily raised forearm in her jaws and beginning to tear and shake at it. “No! Get away!” She let out with half-thought, not knowing whether to pull away or let it drag her or what just made the pain stop.
There was a sickening crunch and the faintest ringing of steel, and then the coyote had let go of her arm and she cradled it to her chest with a sob. Another crunch with the backdrop of ringing steel, and Mitchell was grabbing her by the good arm, hoisting her to her feet. Every bump and jostle sent lances of agony through her, and she allowed the tears to fall with no resistance.
The injured couple plunged deeper into the dense forest, their hearts pounding in sync with the ominous drumming of their pursuers’ footfalls. The forest, once a sanctuary of tranquillity, had transformed into a labyrinth of fear. The once gentle rustling of leaves now echoed like whispers of doom, and the innocent warbles of waking birds in the dawn sounded like death knells.
Mitchell, his face etched with lines of pain, limped heavily on his right leg. Each step was a battle against agony, but he pressed on, his determination fueled by the primal instinct of survival. His eyes, usually warm and inviting, were now wide with terror, darting around the shadowy forest, searching for an escape route.
Miriam, on the other hand, clutched her bleeding arm, her fingers stained crimson. The wound, a cruel souvenir from their attackers, throbbed with every heartbeat. But she bit back the cries of pain, her lips a thin line of resolve. Her free hand clung to Mitchell’s, their fingers intertwined in a silent promise of shared fate.
Behind them, the sounds of howling and yelping rose again, a chilling symphony of their impending doom. It was growing louder, closer, the forest echoing with the monstrous chorus. The couple could almost feel the hot breath of their pursuers on their necks, the anticipation of the chase making their predators more relentless.
But they pressed on, their bodies screaming in protest, their minds clouded with fear. Every rustle, every snap of a twig amplified their panic. Their breaths came out in ragged gasps, the cold air stinging their lungs. But they couldn’t afford to stop, not when stopping meant certain death. Even when another pair of coyotes caught up, and the two were forced to retreat into a hollow in the trees to avoid being surrounded, they remained resolute. As they pressed their backs against a gigantic fallen trunk for protection, the number of coyotes gradually increased. What started as two quickly became three, and before they knew it, they found themselves encircled by a pack of six menacing coyotes. Mitchell held his shield in both hands. “I don’t know if I can bash all of them.”
Miriam felt the panic slide away as her options, limited as they were, became clear. She leaned forward, and kissed her fiancé's cheek. “At least we aren’t alone.”
Something in his eyes lit up, the faintest spark behind clouded yet defiant eyes. “That’s it!” Picking up a nearby stick, he began pounding on the surface of his shield, first three long gongs, then a trio of short raps, then another- He was sending out an SOS!
Miriam quickly reasoned through it. She had approximately 30 seconds between her arrival in the tutorial, and finding Mitchell, though she was moving at a full sprint. Estimating her speed (generously) at the 24km/h average sprinting speed, and dialling back efficiency by 50% to account for running through the forest, she’d moved… about 100 meters. Around the same distance they’d run since getting trapped here, and more than close enough to hear that ringing noise. How had he reasoned that out so fast?
Fighting down the embarrassment, she opened her mouth and screamed. It was odd at first, but as she did she let her pain and frustration bleed into the note, she let her desperation and drive to live modulate the pitch, and the scream came out crystal clear and rang out through the forest.
Mitchell got through three repetitions of his message before the coyotes stopped surrounding and began to lunge, feint and generally harry them. With the limited opening before them, the couple was able to largely hide behind the shield. It required Miriam helping support her partner, as he couldn’t put any weight on his leg, and he in turn held the shield that kept metal between them and gnawing, thrashing teeth.
He occasionally used his stick to swing at the creatures, but it was yanked out of his grip by one of the coyotes while another lunged at an angle, forcing him to drop the weapon and defend. The coyote bit down on the shield rim and tried to rip it away, so he made a fist and punched at its snout, hitting its nose and making it let go but also swinging his knuckles into the hard rim of the shield.
Then two leapt from the front, and with the one arm he had on the shield he couldn’t leverage enough strength to repel them. Both he and Miriam were knocked down to the ground, and with the shield pinned to his chest, he was unable to guard his throat, something the coyote seemed to realise as it lunged forward.
Only to stop midair with a yelp and a widening of eyes and a tightening of fur, and Mitchell realised that it wasn’t yips and howls of excitement he was hearing now but pain. In a sick moment of indulgence, he allowed himself to feel joy at their suffering. It served them right.
Then he noticed the meaty fist, grabbing the coyote by the scruff and launching it bodily into a nearby tree, where a crack marked the end of its life. He noticed the bare arm and followed it up to a familiar face, letting out something between a sob and a laugh of relief at the sight.
“Thank the - what was it you said?” John looked down on him imperiously, only to wince and lay out a meaty kick that was followed by the sound of whimpering.
“By every god that does or does not exist.” Mitchell answered automatically as he feebly looked around the clearing. There was George, big stick in hand, and there was Sarah, tending to Miriam, who had allowed herself to pass out. Mitchell smiled, the warm fuzzy feeling encompassing his heart. She was right. They weren’t alone. It was only mid-day, but he felt like he could rest, and his eyes slid shut with barely a hint of resistance.
“Yea…” George muttered darkly off to the side where he had begun crudely skinning the coyote, having pushed himself to the limit to arrive in what looked like the last second. “Thank them.”