Clips, one of the guards death, were among a highlight-reel of the most recent 'Akyrian-Accolades' and 'Valkyria-Videos' was the account streaming these recordings every day since launch. The feats they were interested in were every major first for all manner of crimes, deaths and any other exciting clip sent to them.
'First guard killed, first killed by guard, same dude. Lol!' Was the title of the full clip showing what was a guy sneak up, choke out, and then break that guards neck when he lost consciousness. Rob him, run away, and get all of a couple miles off. Interestingly his Akyrian avatar was destroyed. He'd have to restart.
Every death wiped a character and that was only one of the things people hated most. They didn't get to choose any class, start with any ability they didn't physically or mentally have, they didn't want to play a primitive survival game, everyone was killing each other to have food to get to towns and clothes to sell for starting coins.
That last had been a more recent and larger second wave, as people saw that there were towns in every direction if you went far enough. West was the capital, the longest way with only a few later towns, all but one situated miles off of the main road. That was Earthmerry, where the guard had been killed. Where I was.
Most other and closer places were villages, places with little to do or give, and the high player concentration of true murder hobos had made these all but overtly hostile. There were clips of a first day of moderate peace. Struggle and contention over resources devolved that peace fast.
They'd gone from helping wounded and hungry players, and giving what work they could and extra they had, to a whipping fast, then whippings, a hanging the third day, hangings and a small skirmish with a mass of unarmed individuals stealing anything not nailed down, including the objects held and worn on persons the fourth day.
Only the tiniest of villages, a few dozen homes and families, had mostly been wiped out and robbed except for a few who had escaped from players. Acting every bit a child when they found there would be no starter items but clothes, no system-quests or class-item-packs and no game or even player market, only a humble and slow beginning.
Thing was, they all had started with the Arcane class. Not every video was useless, either, one guy had detailed how his attributes in-game were increased when he looked at his statistics real-world and that he'd increased them by conditioning himself there. 'Physical-Attributes-Levelling'.
Strength, Agility, Endurance, Vitality. Four basics to represent the body. Strength, muscle. Agility, nerve. Endurance, bone. Vitality, cardio. The guys premise was stresses to each of those systems were how he'd increased everything, although he had admitted endurance had only gone up once despite ten more days attempts.
The same person with that vid had one titled 'Skill-Levelling?' That one was more of a compilation, one in which all of his time spent in Akyria was sped up and analyzed by an Artificial-Sentience, tasked with monitoring subtle changes to the person in question. That video was taken down by the site first, then the AS had its public access closed, and not long after the worlds superpowers reported.
'Truly-Translative'. That concept of a VR so perfect that not only could you learn and apply real knowledge there, but build actual-useful-to-real-world mucle-memory, which was possible because the realistic depth and scale weren't altered from reality by any factor, variable or margins. AS networks and humans had been working on such things for only a few years, but weren't even close. Yet here one was, now decades ahead of the rest at the least.
I'd skimmed over which videos to scan through and found the last video not by the Truly-Translative 'TT' tag I would've ignored otherwise, only that I'd watched the mans other video had led me to it, otherwise like most I would have ignored it for a trolling the way you get on the internet anywhere. There were other speculative videos, but they'd been up longer, and none other had tried to capture evidence.
Reports it was 'possibly' TT came with all the more explicit details about it. There was no doubt the AS programs had made precursory reports, based on their analytics of course, yet they'd also clearly denoted many of the aspects of it that players were most notably already aware of compared to other games that had captured detail to hyper-realism in various fashions.
'Gravity and physics more real than 'Deep Exploration Luna: Voyage Extended Rendition', air-friction like 'Terminal Velocity' for the daredevils whom free falling, hang gliding, and mostly aerial stunts and activities were still thrilling, temperature, moisture, air-pressure, sounds, smells, tastes, the sensations were not all the mundane ones though.
A bigger-than-usual conspiracy that this was all joint government efforts to 'map our minds' had popped up, and I couldn't help but laugh aloud at it, because a few thousand people had gone through similar experiences as mine, calling their original arrival in Akyria as 'Abductions' or 'Revelations' due to aliens. Some, however, said gods instead.
After Kate was home and before I fell to sleep, I tried to feel out towards my Akyrian self in or around Earthmerry, and after a check I went back and waited until after my morning breakfast with Kate to return there. As she'd left first ahead of me laughing and smiling happily, all seemed right. A lot of worry was gone from me knowing others had that experience.
Making her feel better, now that I felt so much relief, had been some reflex I wasn't aware existed in me. It was like she could hear me decompressing through my words, and coupled with the sleepy and clearing morning state, the combination had made the joking funnier and kissing sweeter. After I went to Akyria, 'Online', and went to pick up Molly.
Starting her in water young was best. Keeping her there long enough to get completely comfortable was going to take considerable effort and time. The equines I was familiar with all had the same issue with water, in that they usually swam fine instinctively, but preferred to avoid water except where avoiding it would take too much more effort than crossing it.
Since their ears didn't drain water, I'd been taught to keep them out of any water that wasn't calm, as rougher waves in the ocean and rapidly moving waters posed dual threats in their increased strains and likelihood of water ending up in their ears. A healthy mule could swim aways even with its load, at least a few minutes in calm conditions.
After the numerous sessions of entering and swimming across a somewhat shallow pond nearby, one she could swim across and in spots would also have her feet snag things and disrupt her balance, I worked her swimming and found she reacted calmly when she finally went through this all a few times. After I had wanted to fish, so went to buy some brass hooks.
Digging worms was something I knew how to do, finding where good decay, moisture, shade and cool all met, one would find worms. For a pole, my staff and twine would work decently, and I'd put a hook on the twine to fish in the stream near town. The woods were nice and shady, cooler overall, even if the wind was nicer at times close to where the stream neared town.
After awhile I went closer to town by necessity, the waters were shallow where I was and the fish too small to eat even though you could catch them, while a bridge crossing the stream northwest of town was everything one could ask for. The water was deeper, the space underneath cool where the wind could pass through, and it was shaded.
Plenty of good grazing for Molly, and plenty for me as well, where we could stay cool and hydrated. The worms, I put in a pocket of the satchel bedded thick with wide and flexible leaves, then put rich and cool, moist earth on them to keep them relaxed and from trying to escape while I fished.
More than a few of the fish were fat for a small stream, they were not narrow, so with only a couple dozen of the wide bream and catfish all strung through the gills by another twine section rigged into a stringer I went to town by noon with Molly and met Anten this time for a meal.
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The butcher wasn't uninterested in fish, but their value as an easier to get resource folk could stay out of the woods and get, and proximity made them worthless in coins. But you could eat them, and a farmer could use the bulk of what was left for ferilizer, after one fileted the fish. That I could do.
Scaling and gutting bream, the flat fish made a nice fit in any pan, and you could eat them bones and all when they were cooked. That was just how a friend had showed me to appreciate that you could eat them whole after cooking, with little effort, especially compared to catchfish skinning.
Incisions along both sides of the spine, down the sides to the pectoral fins and around them completely, and peeling the skin off down them was the easiest way for me to do it with them nailed down through the head to something where they would be affixed for the process. Also, they'd be killed when you did this, before the rest started.
Keeping the fish on a stringer and where moving water passsed through their gills left them all alive, it let you fish for longer without fish going bad. However, a stringer full of fish starts being wound around itself by them and other fish, and then fish in the center would get less water flow through their gills and die if you did it too long in shallow and slow waters.
Only other hardcore fishers will know the truth in that, those who have fished for a day or better continuously by a lakeshore or creekside who ever were fishing for real food, and found they had to learn to limit how long and how much they caught so as not to waste the fish and their efforts. In deeper and faster moving water, a few large fish caught over longer periods was more plausible and safe.
Large fishes bodies held more oxygen, so they'd not suffer the detriments of lacking mobilty as fast and the waters movement through their gills meant some constant oxygen even if they got wound once in awhile, and with only a few of these you tugged around in the water with a small boat you didn't need to spend as much time fishing. More effort was spent paddling then, but time and results were better that way.
Cleaning a lot of smaller fish that way at Antens, killing them before I started their cleaning, and making use of a few unused boards left sunk in the ground to scale and skin the fish on took me a little over a half an hour from start to finish. I'd sat the cleaned bream and the catfish filets piled on a cleaner of the boards on the ground by his fence.
I dumped all the rest of the mess cut away near Antens apple tree and buried the guts, catfish heads and spines all near its roots. Iron in the blood, guts and remaining meat were great for fruit trees yieldings of produce volume. There'd be more blooms, and so, more fruits. Molly gave me the dirtiest look when I finally saw she'd watched me at this all.
"Oh, animals are fine, but don't dare hurt a fish around her. What, do you think they are strange, or is it me taking them out of the water and putting them in the ground? Don't worry, I won't do that to you Molly, not any of it but take you from here and put you in the water to swim some.
"Those, me and Anten are gonna eat, I won't let anyone or anybody eat you and me if I can help it." She'd looked less spooked as I got close and started petting her, but I found soon it wasn't anything but a ploy to play and draw me close enough for a few rounds of a game of tag with plenty of showing off mixed in from us both.
She'd kick and I'd kick higher, sparking her to nose me and dart away, then when I caught her she rounded around in place twirling and I followed her mix of simon-says and tag like that for awhile. After eating with Anten, he agreed to let me borrow a few old tools at a time. A shovel, axe, and a pick.
So for the third week I returned to Earth to spent my nights and mornings with Kate. In Earthmerry I continued learning to tailor and weave, as well, better refine some common textiles from their raw and base resources to finished products. More time could be spent talking about what I learned than the time it took to learn it all.
My knowledge and experience were in those stages, the ones where you were getting close to being able to to marry the intelligent logic of knowledge and the able potential of experience together in the beginnings of wisdom. Not enough to teach, because I was still learning, but already I knew soon I'd reach that point.
An apprentice only needs be what they are long enough to get a full grasp of basics. With grasp of basics, an apprentice turns towards journeymen and begin turning basics into applications. Now attention to finite details, solidifying the basics, time and experience with successes and failures were the way forward.
I'd made myself a dugout to sleep warm in the wet and cold, or cool in the dry and heat, while my body slept on Earth over that week. Small, with a drain, and the room I'd need to sleep and start stockpiling things over time. Having a deep drain of feet of stones filled back with sand, it wouldn't flood.
That drain went out an already existing low point between two lower hills I'd snuggled its design amidst, so any water could go around the dugout and under it, right towards the nearby stream and not so much in it. It was made of skinned cedar, surrounded after by plenty of clay atop it, and the entrance was simply wound boards tied together and propped by a stick.
That said the makeshift door was the highest point, it was where I'd made the rock and sand drain the thickest and highest up, and overall I hoped to get a year out of it in the state it was. Eventually if it lasted long enough, I could dig this all back out and replace wood with stone and mortar.
If I made that basement wide, gave it plenty of drainage around it again, and established a solid and flat foundation of it with pillars and arches inside it could act as a foundation solid enough for a small home atop later. Of course, the roof would be wooden still then, and also act as subfloor for the house. A cooler and dark place good for storage, plus panic room.
Cause' of course you sensibly put food and supplies where they'll last longer and be more safe, then when you feel threatened to be more safe you go to where you stashed your surplus. In a game world, this instinct would serve well, cause who knew when, what or who would come to tear your house up at night? Or, it caught fire?
One day, house on a hill, but it wasn't going to be built by one man even in a week. A decent dugout that time and moisture would erode the clay around, as it would this one everytime it rained, might last any amount of time before the rotting started and it caved in. The fireplace in it would help.
So whilst trying to keep up with Molly and her swimming, fishing, working to earn a few copper pennies here and there, building my home here, apprenticing to the tailor and learning to prepare and condition textiles and fibres I managed to keep up with most of everything but had no time for dyeing at all.
Waking up near Antens fence near where it and town wall met, after having had brought his tools back a little later than expected, and been unable to find my way home through the trees at night was disorenting. The early morning hours were still dark, so I had wondered what had woke me here from sleep on Earth.
Finding nothing but abld to see I'd stood and started to head for my new home, Molly in her stall in Antens barn, but then a guard along with Anten was pulling me along into town as they'd caught sight of my standing. There were not many, most looked friendly, but to be safe Anten handed me what he called a 'Flail-Frog'.
Braided leather cordage encased what looked like an iron nut with the texture of a golf ball and size of an average orange. Two sleek leather braids, and a thin but fine twine acted as a handle for it. The name felt more fitting for the way it would act, compared to the shape. Not even these braids seemed frog-like though long, though holding it felt like holding a frog by the legs.
The braids ends almost felt like their toes, and there being two with a weight swinging at the end, maybe. More likely how it would seem to suddenly spring like a frog jumped, redirect easily, and would no doubt slip out of your hand or the iron would tear free and slip away had aught to do with it. I didn't think I needed it.
It didn't hurt to have in my satchel for the encounter. These 'Arcane' were few. They were lean, scuffed up, mean looking, but all in the types of ways you wanted to help them overcome it with. They were more of those first who had not sought to better their ability to survive, ply trade or effort amongst people, but not violent types.
These were those brimming with determination, enduring, and grit. Hardy enough to be alive here, sure, but yet to have made sense of this new world. They were that me still trying to look for Quests normally, looking for the 'big city' which I had never done in life. Why had I here? It was what you did in games. You went big.
This was small. It wasn't 'go big or go home' here, it was 'start small or tall fall'. You needed to survive to get this far. I'd done the hardest part much the same I thought, only to learn later these types were forged in surviving smaller red wolf pack attacks, and in their weeks of slowly withering and subjection to all manner of never before experienced stress and strain.
I'd always been a bit light, especially for my height, but by no means a thin or lanky fellow. However, for once, I was not one of the thinnest or even close. I wasn't the dirtiest person while working, with others clean and neat, and looking at them I could hardly feel pity because they would learn from the lessons I had how to deal with it all.
The woman among that first group was the first to take initiative despite being as embarassed of their states and situations as the others in that group. Elaborating to them where the nearest resources were, some of the easiest ways to get more difficult ones, and offering some insight proved to tell on myself being from Earth.
All that did for her was seem to encourage her I had an idea of what I was talking about, but I merely told her their group should learn survival skills and primitive crafting techniques if they wanted to have an easier time without the pains. Three weeks of time, and besides decent clothes, who was more than a beggar or nomad?
Too few of us. How many would think to even start treating this as a long-term survival situation? Too few, I could not find one suggestion online others were building, but knew some would be already.