I wasn't far from the capital. It was where I found myself next, and, without the money or business there I was turned away. There was just enough of daylight left to get back to the town, Earthmerry, from the Valkyrian capital. Me and Molly slept against the outside walls.
She lied down when we stopped, and I let her lay for awhile when we did long enough to fall asleep, before I sat. That didn't take long. I worried she might have felt unsafe, as in herds one was always stood watch, so I stood for a few minutes and then sat to lay asleep against the wall beside her.
When I woke, she was standing beside me, maw wet from drinking in the water troughs outside town and not far from where we'd slept. That was close enough to safety and security for us, and there was nearby water and food for both as well.
The rabbit hide strips were rotting. That was as to be expected, however. I'd not followed the steps as if it were real - and of course, this was the result. Truth was, I'd only the scarcest ideas how and knew I'd skipped steps, but I had to expirement.
If it were virtual, then, the quick soak of the pelts, the brain-tan-solution, and the stretching would have worked since the flesh was scraped and at least some leather conditioning could be said to have occurred. But, I didn't soak the hide long, and I don't know the specifics. 'Too realistic!'
So much knowledge would be useful, here. This wasn't a world for gamers. This was a world for survivers, crafters, tradesman, workers, hunters, gatherers, farmers, animal-trainers, for people to use or learn valuable skills, gain valuable knowledge, perspective. It was a crucible; not a game at all.
No utilitarian, renaissance man or jack-of-all-trades would do here. This was a world where it seemed it would take a city worth of skilled specialists, versatile of abilities in order to build a city. Or, time and money. No abrupt 'magically' appearing buildings, cities, bases. 'Way too damn realistic!'
Of course, the thought no sane person would play it long, it had to have already been a magnet towards those with less ego than myself already too. Those with more ego, no, they would have to play something this complex and difficulr now if they wanted to be taken seriously. Who wouldn't want to better their knowledge and potential?
Learn survival, combat, trade, and other skills in an environment they couldn't die in? Not just more than reality, but, also built upon realities existing skills and needs. There will be the need for every mundane skill, even just to begin here. If it's like that, advanced skills here will be out of reach awhile yet. Even a basic-start will be hard.
Resource-competition. Those two words, knowing the horde from my world was only so far behind, they were words and thoughts to light a fire under a mans sitting rear. Too many of the people from my world would just have, almost realistically, no chance at a snowball here if it was given to them. I could not even do so yet, and, had some abnormal and maybe greater connection to this place.
There were other boons besides, all those magics 'actuated', and the Philosophers Stone. Plus Molly, arguably my greatest potential future resource in my book. Mobility, when you already had a head start, would only be so much of an advantage at all. All the more so when your so-called mobility is too young to ride.
A perfect age for training however, and, as an animal-handler I had plenty of practical and useful experience to use here as a vocation. "Alright, girl. You're too young to really load, but today we do some conditioning and training while we walk. Tonight, we'll come back for some trade, and have proper meals for you and a meal at all for me.
"Maybe we'll have enough for you a livery stall tonight, or I'll have enough to rent use of your old stall. Your old master could probably use the coin better, what do you think?" She nosed the air up a bit, almost like a nod, then sounded off a bit excitedly. That's when she left me for home, first.
I didn't have to walk too far, put her lead on, and start heading towards the forrest beyond Earthmerry' west end. The first sad truth about hunting, which I'd never really done any of outside games, was that in games most of the people from my world would kill other people before animals. Me included.
Their resources were more valuable and versatile, then there was the threats and thrills PK provided. Now though, folk had clothes and those only, and they would need food to live and survive. Most hunters would fare no better, unless they had primitive hunting and survival skills. It took time to make rudimentary or improvised bows-and-arrows, and spears.
So it is of that old hypocritical human nature, that though most ate meat, we most of us some sense of remorse or reprise in self towards what I set out to do. And I did what I set to well, not because I was excited to, but there would be uses for the resources harvested.
Murder-hobo the poor and simple forrest denizens; and it feels every bit as savage as that sounds to go around bashing o'possums too slow to outrun you on the head with a staff, stoning rabbits similarly in the head, and holding down porcupines with the staff to knock them out with a stick.
The porcupines alone had some defense in this. They'd flare out their spiny haunches towards you, hunching and keeping their vulnerable head and belly away, and unlike a more-or-less solid whack to the head with a stick which killed the o'possums, took knocking out first and then a solid strike to the head by staff to finish.
It meant only the porcupines deaths weren't as clean as the others. Their being knocked out first was less bad, however, and as humane as could be despite all arguable evidence to the contrary. The few moments of being pinned were their greatest trauma. It felt about like it sounded to, a bit low.
Yet they would provide meat and bones for people and their dogs meals. Furs and leather materials, perhaps, though I doubted any potential for quality leathers from vermin. Their furs, except the porcupines maybe, would be useful too. Could it, with quills removed?
It all would provide me with some coin, goods and food for myself. A knife with sheathe, a belt, a waterskin and a cloak would be practical first purchases. They were all I could afford and still feed and house me and Molly for that night as well.
I'd skinned the rabbits as shown, gutted them with a fairly sharp rock I stashed outside town, and bled everything I killed right away to prevent spoiling. As well, I'd never took more than an hour in returning when I killed the first things I wasn't able to gut. The knife changed that problem.
It was only iron, a poor metal for any decent blade, but it was sharp and I wasn't going to do anything but cut with it and make sure it never was wet long no matter what metal it had been. Molly had her stall for a week at a copper coin, a bargain for us all. She, I and the farmer, Anten, all benefitted.
Anywhere in my world, if a vagabond went about coming in and out of the woods with dead animals, we know they'd probably be calling all sorts of agencies and there would be all types of hell, charges, offenses, insults and mockeries involved. Naturally then I humoured myself with that thought, rather than over think about 'hunting'.
It didn't hold humor long to be doing it, but a solid meal and sleep for me and my mule, Molly, were reward enough besides from getting what I needed and doing something others would get what they needed from. Money was the medium for it all, and to get coin, I had to start somewhere.
At work we'd never needed, nor wanted to kill animals. Learning about them and handling them was a great way to understand all about their natures. With that knowledge, a person has little risk of incurring harm from most smaller animals and the like, especially when they encroached towards us.
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It didn't feel good or natural. Being able to feed yourself meat you can eat did, and, making enough coin to get the basic tools and equipment one would need to survive were another good feeling. Making some of the coin from people with the finer skills to turn the animals resources was another.
A week went by. A leather satchel bag, a canvas backpack, another larger water skin, ditto for Molly and enough twine thrown in free to allow her carrying both waterskins having the blanket on her back to keep any of that from rubbing her while she carried the larger waterskins, all things bought.
A small steel rod and flint, rope, and a decent steel hatchet were all I afforded in that time besides meals and lodgings. I had started putting up coins of course, a few silver pennies, and a dozen copper coins in my satchel. However, there was more important gains involved.
Learning butchering and tanning were things you started getting into steps at a time trying to keep up with the processes. A weeks time had left me confident I could recreate all I had learned to at least a modest degree, but not produce the depth of nor full masteries of anytime fast.
The butcher hadn't just skinned everything and left it whole like two of the first rabbits. He showed me deft ways of getting most of the meat off the bones with his blades, but for me to begin and practice, he showed me how to make beginners incisions that would cut down difficulty for novices.
Yet he didn't just skin game, or cut up meats, and store them in the ice larders kept under the buildings thick stone cellar. He rendered the meat and fat from game like o'possums that were fatty enough to warrant the effort but lower on the scale of demand for consumption. Then, had various formula for making types of meals.
Certain ratios of meat-to-fat of the renderings for dogs, others for cats, different ones for different animals and the list included meat-pellets for raptors like hawks and falcons, as well as pets like weasels and foxes, things that ate meat. Not just people. Granted, the ratios were simple ones. One-to-twelve was for tiny meat eaters, generally, according to it.
The tanners business was no less complex, and though in a week I knew how to make solutions for mammal and reptile skins, they'd no time soon be conditioned to perfection. I knew I couldn't judge exactly why my minute failures were occuring every time. Nor had I learned to work these materials.
The tanner merely conditioned the skins and furs, made them leathers or cured and treated fur, the tailor actually worked these materials along with cloth and other textiles. The weavers I'd watch spin threads when they did and make twine and rope from sheathes of various fibres.
And the tailors works, hers were worth watching when she made something, and I was not often alone watching her though unlike with the weavers I could provide her with assistance. Those she made her goods for were usually there to watch, as well kids, and the large glass window and bustle about as she went for various materials and through steps simply drew attention anyway.
Getting to know more about everything and the towns folks I'd decided on a few things the last day of that week. I wanted to learn how to make my own clothes and alter them. Being able to work textiles would take a long time, but then you could make what you needed after. Learning to weave would be practical as well.
Baskets, nets, twines, ropes, threads, yarns, textiles, one who comes into a world naked twice will never thrice make the mistake of not knowing how to make his own fine clothes. Even learning how to dye these, weaving patterns, sewing, fitting, I planned to prioritize learning tailory. I would make my living hunting and gathering until.
There was a sign posted outside one of the apothecaries shops which had reminded me plants might have value as well. Passing so many and knowing they were alternatives of some I knew, but did not know qualities of, and the many new ones I couldn't have anyway sent me towards seeking one.
She had only recently posted a sign for a gatherer sought. Even the different colored and textured changes were not enough you didn't see a black strawberry for what it was, though the apricots had looked the color of dark plums and bigger than normal by half. There were mushrooms as well.
All I'd found some of the last couple days were fruits. The strawberries were wild ones growing by the road, where the grass was shorter in the trees shade. The apricots were not wild, they were from an orchard a few miles south, and she wanted a bushel I'd had to buy and return with for a silver. Coin, not penny, so a payday.
Molly was getting used to the idea of walking around with small loads, and carrying the water she had done fine. Adding the bushel, she had refused to budge, no matter how I tried to adjust it. So she followed me unled back to town at her pace, with the apricots. I'd been given one, they tasted the same, but the fruit was more moist and seemed to chew softer.
The strawberries hadn't had much taste, they'd ground up and felt extra gritty in chewing, but I'd eaten almost as many of those as I sold for variety. Molly had a taste for those strawberries, but the apricots had seemed to interest her into following me along.
She'd been less quiet, often sounding, in the mix of donkeys and horses bray and whinny. Mostly she sounded curious, interested, eager and playful as she should her age. Often she'd take off as if to chase things that ran well towards the trees and exaggerated every jump and step, then trot to catch up.
Her age, and instinct made her stick close. That she did so comfortably was normal, any young herding animal would stick with a herd, as well she was young and at the imprinting age. The longer and better our time together while she was this age, the more we'd understand each other.
After a week in town and even before having staked a small claim outside town later that day nobody owned any land near, it was suddenly like the town really took to me for the time I'd spent there as many took to offering me short and laborous or menial tasks they were incapable or impartial to.
Older people had some more laborous or intensive work that they had a copper penny or two if youths handled. Anten fed and stalled Molly, which I'd paid him up another week for, and I had use of his brush until I'd bought one for keeping her looking spiffy. Good for her, of course, and for getting her more used to spending time with me. She enjoyed following me out.
An older tailor who recieved far less orders was willing to teach if I bought the materials, and I'd have use of his tools and knowledge, but a day or two each week he would work on suits for people made to private styles and specifications he would not teach. I didn't see how it could be that intricate, tailory, but was quickly proved wrong.
I'd told him I was an 'Arcane' or other-worlder, which he didn't mind, and then for the second week had been slowly spending my earnings up. Most of it I made was barely useful, made of cheaper materials as well, but for awhile I made it a focus. The extra works popping alleviated the slow financial bleeding, and I learned.
The last thing I did that second week in-game before it happened was make a set of cotton clothes, decent ones, and aside from them I'd a few underwear and socks, but much of what I'd ended up with looked rather patchworked as I'd been using the same materials over to learn to shape and style both.
A jerkin was my current opus. I'd never been more proud than sewing up folds of cloth tactfully in the outside and inside of a leather vest. The seams, contours and edges of the vest I'd been made to stitch leather thonging through, braiding the front and back leather sections together at the sides with the thonging.
The shorter and thinner leather strips running through cloth folds and back into the jerkin were as much to keep the layers of cloth tight to it and form padding. My first work with leather yielded some functioning if ugly gloves that were flexible and open at the tips. Mostly they were suede.
To that flexible suede, I'd stitched thin leather over the palms and inside length of the fingers, leaving gaps between the digits flex points and had gotten to where I could hold a finer stitching pattern tightly enough to start a larger project of leather by his approval. John was a master, however, I was not.
I'd have gladly gone home even the first night, but I'd had no idea how. Thinking of where I had been, home, none of it worked. Only when I had heard a shout, I'd realize the scream following it short after had indicated something. John, I and others had been near enough the east side. The guard who'd showed me the trick.
Eyes dead, neck clearly lulling too much to be other than broken, and missing his coin purse, coat, boots and his spear. This had been a person, a criminal but maybe another player. In the thoughts about the place I would be now if I wasn't here, I found myself there, on my lunch break at work.
Had I not been alone eating in the small break room I might have startled others with how abruptly I would have suddenly seemed like I'd lost all idea of where or who I was when this happened. 'That's how I move between, then. I'm both places at once. Both, and in a way that feels too much like neither.'
At least, not until I could look back and remember the past couple of weeks had been more or less fine here. The hype up over a new game people were already seemingly giving up on was a trending topic even more thoroughly viewed and shared about it than any other information. Its publisher was anonymous still.
The ratings were great, except the ratings for 'player satisfaction' or 'progression and growth', which both were zeroed. Even though the game was free, void of monetary transactions, and meant to be unregulated, more than one government was petitioning for the company to allow certain filters they had for VR.
This was the first time a free game had become popular enough to warrant such an action by a government through the VR interface channels. As it was not monetized they couldn't assert regulation by global law, if not every country adhered to that officially, and ran filters through VR hardwares and softwares.
I'd spoken to Kate as she'd asked if I would try to play the game of my dreams, and told her I would. I guess if she thought I did it while she was at work or school and I wasn't there was no harm in keeping the new secret. This was in every sense a double and secret life, or like a splitting personality across worlds. Not even a psychiatrist you love might take that one well.