It had been three days. Daniels once pristine black clothes were now caked in blood and gore, the stench of death following his every movement. He had killed many animals with his ambush tactic, the first kill seemingly opening the floodgates. Almost none of the animals he killed seemed to differ greatly from their pre-Theta counterparts, making it relatively easy to pick his battles carefully and avoid dying. His level had soared, now sitting at a comfortable 5. Daniel had not yet needed to spend his 5 Points yet, after a few failures in positioning at the beginning of his killing spree, he had gotten the hang of the ambush attack. The AIOS seemed to agree with him, as his skill Critical Strike had increased to Level 21, breaking well into the Novice Ranks. About three hours ago Daniel had finally killed his first Evolved Deer, the source of much of the blood covering him now. After that, his rate of killing had slowed down drastically, moving trees and locations no longer sufficient in averting the suspicion of most of the forest’s denizens.
After a particularly long period of waiting for prey, the haze that had clouded his mind since his first kill lifted, granting Daniel the ability to once more to plan further than his next kill, and next level. Sitting in a tree, around 500 meters from his start point, Daniel truly panicked for the first time since he awoke 3 days ago.
He had lost control. The pleasure he gained from leveling had overtaken him. All of his plans, all of his goals, thrown out of the window in favour of killing. And what did he gain from it? A few levels and increases in one skill. No safety, no food, and no information.
Then and there, Daniel decided on one thing. It didn’t matter what happened, as long as he didn't lose control of himself like that again. Opening his status, he allocated 3 of his precious Attribute Points into Willpower, in order to be able to resist that overwhelming urge to reach the next level when he next killed. Instantly, a pressusure on his mind lifted. Actions seemed easier. The pain in his lower back became manageable, no longer a dull, distracting ache throbbing up his spine, more of a light pressure, infinitely more manageable. The gnawing maw in his stomach? Now a small voice in his ear. Everything seemed easier. Food had to be his next priority. Then, he could resume levelling to reach a class.
Stretching slowly, joints cracking, Daniel rolled out of the tree, landing on his feet. Grabbing the corpse of the deer, he slung it over his back, and staggered slowly back to his tree bed.
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He crouched, arms burning, feet crusted with the reddish brown of blood mixed with mud. Sweat dripped from his brow, the steady drip upon the ground providing a metronome which he could work to. Splinters broke against grimy calloused skin with every movement of the hand drill. The lump of twigs and grass next to his fireboard taunted him, no telltale rising smoke in the divot giving him the sign of success. When he had started to prepare for fire, it had been early morning. It was now mid afternoon. The deer carcass lay draped over the branches of his home tree, out of reach of any curious predators.
His hands burned, long ago he had lost count of the number of splinters he received, a constant prickling ache sparking through his brain with every twist of the drill. Years seemed to pass, all whilst he twisted the stick. He had retreated so far inwards by the end that at first he thought he was imagining it, but the smell of smoke and the warmth upon his legs proved his doubts otherwise. Sitting back on his heels, the man raised his face to the sky, seat-shined face breaking open with relief. Picking up the fire board, he carefully tapped the glowing mass onto his pile of tinder, sitting in the center of his stone lined pit.
It didn’t take too long to build up the fire, and Daniel soon got it burning away merrily. It took him another hour of cursing, and a lot of blood, to separate a significant amount of meat from the hind and shoulder. Daniel knew he was being extremely wasteful, but he simply didn’t have the necessary experience, or the required facilities to properly dress and store all of the products from the doe. Taking the meat, Daniel carefully impaled it on a sake of sharpened wood, ensuring no meat touched the forest floor. Propping the stake over the fire, the man sat down to wait for his food to cook.
Having nothing better to do whilst turning his makeshift spit, he opened his status.
The three points into Willpower had been invaluable, but he still needed to focus on other stats. Killing larger creatures was already getting slightly harder, the knife just couldn’t penetrate deep enough. With that said he placed two points into strength, resolving that starting from then he wouldn’t touch his Attribute Points until the endgame of his plans.
Name:
Daniel Bishop
Level:
5 (32%)
Class:
N/A
Profession:
N/A
Strength
13
Intelligence
12
Agility
14
Perception
15
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Dexterity
14
Wisdom
15
Vitality
7
Charisma
5
Endurance
11
Willpower
18
Settings
Available Attribute Points: 0
Skills and Abilities
Help
Dismissing his status, the shoulder looked done, the outer layer lightly charred with ash, browned meat visible beneath. Pulling the meat from out of the fire pit, Daniel tightly gripped the venison and tore savagely into the meat, ignoring the burning heat that spread throughout his mouth. Choking down mouthful after mouthful, Daniels throat burned. The sizzling fat singed his tongue just enough on its way down his gullet to disguise the charred and burned flavour of his kill, making his inexperienced attempt at cooking over an open fire somewhat more appetising. The meal was short, leaving Daniel with a tender throat, but a comfortably warm belly.
Stretching slowly, he moved the gore splattered stake over to one side, before dismantling the spit and placing it with the rest of his belongings in the branches of his temporary home. Taking the stake, he slowly made his way down to the river, picking up the gory carcass of the mutilated deer as he went. Slowly, carefully, he descended to where water met the bank. When no fearsome creature appeared to take his life, he knelt down and drank, splashing some water on his face and neck. Hydrated, he washed off the stake, removing all traces of gore from its length. Setting it next to his foot, he hauled the doe carcass up, before swinging it around and tossing it across the thinnest bit of the river. With a splash it landed just shy of the bank, awakening a great flapping and cawing from between the redwoods.
Corpse now disposed of, Daniel picked up the stake, and walked back to the ebers of his fire, before settling upon the platform above, ready to settle in for a few short hours of rest.
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This pattern continued for two more weeks. Danel would wake up, find a new tree, and ambush animals with his knives, eating what little he could, and disposing of their corpses across the river. By the end of those two weeks, he was scarcely recognisable. Black clothes were now more of a dark brown, torn and stained by life amongst the redwoods. His shoes were still in remarkably good condition, the majority of damage done to them superficial. His socks however, he had buried long ago, the cloth so worn, and smelly, that touching them would most likely transmit a disease. His feet and hands had both become extremely blistered in the first week, resulting in a 3 day long break sitting in his tree to avoid infection. Now, both extremities were callused, and his sockless shoes no longer caused any pain. His chocolate brown hair was now black, grease and dirt changing the colour drastically. To his disgust, stubble had begun to grow all over his face, creating an itchy, patchy beard.
One of his knives had broken around the end of the first week, meaning he had again lost a day in creating stone tools and weapons, a short throwing spear made from his stake, a knifelike object, and a hatchet-like tool he used to cut branches for his ever burning fire.
He also took much more precaution in ambushing, killing only a small handful of creatures every day, as well as spreading the time of the kills apart drastically to ensure he was not overwhelmed yet again by the pleasure of stealing the potential of another creature. That said, the three points in Willpower had an extremely noticeable affect. Procrastinating was a thing of the past, and the long days hiding in branches were much easier. His level slowly climbed, reaching just shy of 8 by the evening of day 14.
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The morning of the 15th day, Daniel awoke with the sun, eager to continue working towards his first class, only to find the forest seemed almost empty. He had noticed for the past few days that there were less and less larger animals visiting the banks of the river, but this was the first day on which the forest seemed devoid of all larger life. No bushes rustled, no twigs cracked with the passing of creatures. The air was still, the fog killing even the rustling of leaves. Sitting by his tree, Daniel thought of what to do.
He had to move of course, but where? The benefits a class would provide seemed too great to pass up, and the earlier he could access one, the better. Travelling down the river would work, but going too far may lead to a drastic change in habitat, leaving Daniel again in an environment of alien, hostile, creatures. The same problem would be faced with travelling towards the mountains, who knew what threats would lurk between their craggy peaks? That left only one option, to travel across the river, and into the redwoods beyond, hoping to find as lush a hunting ground again.
It took the rest of the day to dismantle his camp. Not wanting to leave any traces behind for others to follow, he buried or burned what he could not carry beneath his tree before smudging the notches he had made in the bark of the surrounding redwoods with a healthy portion of dirt. The longest time was spent at the banks of the river, searching for a suitable flint stone with which to rekindle fire. He did not want to go through his previous efforts ever again. Upon finding one, he carefully erased his tracks, covering man made trails with sticks or leaves, and wiping prints from the dirt. Sleeping one last time in his tree, Daniel woke earlier than the sun, to ensure all was ready for his departure. When, to his amateurish eyes, the area seemed untouched by man, a seemingly normal area of the forest (save the complete lack of life) he set off uphill along the banks of the river, framed by the morning light, in search of an easy crossing point.
He soon found one, a tree had fallen across the width of the river, creating a natural bridge to the other side. Crossing was easy, the sharp stick slung on his back short enough that it did not throw off his balance. Upon reaching the other side, he drank from the bubbling body of water, once again bemoaning his lack of watertight containers. Survival away from the river would be difficult.
The forest on the other side of the river was no different than the forest in which he awoke two weeks ago. Towering redwoods, interspersed with pine, rose from a green carpet, dew glistening with the golden rays of a rising sun.
Daniel stalked beneath the wide boughs, flitting from trunk to trunk, ever watching and waiting for signs of danger. His belongings were slung over his back, jacket serving as a rucksack, last switchblade gripped in his hands. To any observers, the man would appear as a misshapen phantom, little more than another rustling shape gliding slowly through the forest.
It did not take him long to find another river, running happily down the rocky slope, bouncing between boulders, slipping its way down to the distant sea. Following this stream uphill, Daniel looked for a suitable tree or cave in which he could stay. The trees had thinned out with the introduction of boulders, which also carried with it less prey for the man to hunt. Trekking slowly uphill, Daniel followed the stream, spear acting as a walking stick to prevent any nasy falls.
If not for his closeness to the stream, he never would have seen them.
There, in the damp earth along the bank, was a set of large clawed footprints.