Surviving Arkadia

I had my suspicions but I’d shoved them to the back of my mind. I’d told myself that it was nothing. I tried to believe that everything was okay and that I was just sleepy and dissociating a bit.

I tried to convince myself that the sensation of floating in an endless void of nothingness and interacting with the “screen” in front of me by just thinking about “scrolling” and tapping” was nothing to worry about.

Still there was that niggling, sinking feeling somewhere in the back of my mind because I couldn’t remember what I’d been doing right before I opened my eyes to see the cursor blinking in the darkness. My mind had been full of pain and fear and then suddenly the cursor. That probably wasn’t good.

So it wasn’t a complete surprise when I opened my eyes to find that I was lying on my back looking up at the sky.

It felt like I was lying on grass. I sniffed and the scents were overwhelming. Like a kaleidoscope for the nose. I could smell the soil and the grass beneath me. I could tell that there were trees nearby because I could smell the leaves and the leafmould. I could smell the flowers that grew in the grass and the mushrooms that grew beneath the trees. I could smell berries somewhere close. I could smell rodents in the long grass, in the trees, and burrowing in the leaf litter. I could even smell a faint scent that this body somehow knew were the birds in the trees. I couldn’t smell any other large mammals.

If this had been a game I would have called this the tutorial area. It wasn’t a game though, much as I wanted it to be one. I could feel the weight of my body pressing into the soil and grass beneath me. I could run my tongue over my sharp, hyena teeth. My palms were hairless but I could feel the predator claws where there should have been fingernails and, when I brought my hands together I could feel the shaggy fur that grew on the backs.

I didn’t sit up right away. I had a good old feel around. I was wearing the chest wrap and underwear that I’d seen during character creation. I was already starting to regret not picking a type and career that would have given me some starting gear.

I told myself that it could have been a lot worse. I could have been waking up here with no insulating fur. It wasn’t cold exactly but it was cool enough that hanging out in your underwear would get old quickly.

I sat up. I needed to get a good look at those digitigrade canid legs. Those were going to take some getting used to. I sat cross-legged, trying to get used to the idea that I would be constantly standing on my toes.

I inspected the claws on my hands and feet. The feet claws were pretty blunt. Only to be expected, really, since I had to walk around on them. Maybe I should have gone for a cat type and then I would have had retractable claws. The finger claws were sharper, at least as sharp as the sharpest false nails that I’d seen but much sturdier. If I slapped someone they were going to stay slapped.

My stomach rumbled. Time to get up and do some foraging. I wondered if edible plants would sparkle, or have some sort of pop-up info window if I stared at them hard enough.

Of course before I could forage for anything I had to walk. I got to my feet with extreme caution. I fully expected to have to relearn walking with my weird new legs, but it really wasn’t bad. I was unsteady, like when you wear heels for the first time after a long time in flats, but the wobbles weren’t enough to keep me from the berries that I’d smelled on waking.

The berries were a brilliant red colour and about the size of blueberries. They grew on a shrubby bush, or possibly bushy shrub. I could see them from at least 30 feet away but that was the bright colour and not because of any sparkle or glow or other helpful visual prompt.

They smelled so good. My mouth filled with saliva. I was so hungry but I still hesitated for a moment, remembering that red colouring was often a warning of toxicity. Then I remembered that I would never have to worry about poison ever again. CAST IRON CONSTITUTION, baby. I gave thanks to past me for some excellent choices.

I closed my eyes to savour the moment and found the skill tree hovering before me in the darkness. The focus was on the CAST IRON CONSTITUTION perk. The full text of the perk swum before my eyes. Resistant to intoxication. Immune to poison. Will only vomit by choice. Reduced toxic effects from multiple potion use.

The berries could be pure cyanide and I’d be fine. I grabbed a handful of the berries and tasted one. Maybe it was hunger, maybe it was my new taste buds or maybe they just were incredibly good. They were juicy and sweet and a little bit tangy. Most like cherry in flavour but not really exactly like anything that I knew. There was a small pit in the centre that I spat onto the ground a few feet from the bush. If I’d had any sort of inventory space I would have kept hold of the pit just in case it had some use.

I ate another berry and thought about that “Reduced toxic effects from multiple potion use,” thing. Presumably that meant that potions were a thing and that they didn’t play nice with each other. I filed that knowledge away for future use.

Now that I had a solution to my immediate needs for food and hydration I could properly take in my surroundings.

I was in a grassy clearing surrounded by deciduous forest. The air was fairly warm but I was still glad that I had fur. I sniffed again. I was sure I could smell water. Which was weird. Water doesn’t have a smell. It’s kind of famous for being odourless and colourless. But my brain kept saying water this way.

I followed the scent. I picked my way through the trees. I’d gone hardly any distance when I felt my cute bear ears twitch and I realised that I could hear the sound of running water. It was coming from directly ahead, from basically where my nose had told me it was.

This body had excellent senses to go with the cast iron constitution, the soft warm fur and the cute ears. Five stars. Would recommend.

The sound of running water was coming from a fast flowing stream. The water was clear and it had that glint about it that made me think of melted snow. I looked beyond the trees in the direction I imagined the source must be and sure enough I could see a pair of mountains with a saddle ridge between them. The peaks had a dusting of snow in spite of the heat and the saddle ridge was blindingly white and marked with dark fissures. It kind of looked like a glacier. No global warming in Arkadia.

I expected the constant sound of running water would make me desperate for a pee but I obviously hadn’t had enough to drink for that. Rather it made me suddenly conscious of how dry my mouth was. I dropped to my knees by the stream and lapped the water up like a dog. No, like a hyena.

By the time my stomach was full of water and the urge to keep drinking had passed, my nose was kind of numb from the icy cold water. I rubbed some warmth back into my snout (or muzzle possibly, not sure of the correct term) and I got back to my feet. This time there was only a brief moment of unsteadiness at being perched on my toes with my heels, or the nearest thing a hyena has to heels, so far off the ground.

Once I’d recovered my balance I looked at the trees. What resources could I harvest from them? What could I make? Here I was with just my claws and a handful of berries.

Did I have to punch a tree? That seemed kind of stupid. But there was only one way to find out. I transferred the berries to my left hand. I balled my right hand into a fist, careful of my claws so that I didn’t end up skewering myself.

I punched the tree in front of me. It hurt way more than I had been expecting. I yelped and shook my hand. I didn’t think I’d broken anything but I’d hit the tree a lot harder than I’d expected to. I was just recalculating what my strength stat meant in practical terms when I heard someone clear their throat behind me.

I spun round on the spot, claws raised and ready to strike.

I was faced with a human-ish man. He stood a bit taller than my hyena form and he was very brown. He had loose brown hair, down to his shoulders and a full brown beard, streaked with lighter colours where the sun had got to it. His ears were longer and pointier than anyone I’d seen before, so probably not entirely human, but he didn’t have the elongated proportions of the Elf wireframe so maybe not an Elf.

Whatever his race or ethnicity (whatever that meant in Arkadia) he’d spent a lot of time in the sun without the benefit of sunscreen. His brown cheeks were speckled with darker brown freckles. He had large brown eyes, brimming with humour. He was wearing very simple brown clothes, trousers patched at the knees with a rope belt holding them up, and an open sheepskin jerkin with a lot of pockets. He had chunky brown boots that were scuffed and well worn. Under the jerkin there was a fawn coloured shirt that looked like linen. He had the sleeves rolled up to the elbows.

“Did you seriously just punch that tree?” he said. He looked like he was having some trouble containing his laughter.

“What should I have done?” I said. My new voice sounded a lot like my old voice, just a little rougher. I was surprised it wasn’t harder to talk with a Hyena jaw and canid teeth.

The man couldn’t hold the laughter in any more. He exploded (not literally) with giggles until he was doubled over with his hands on his knees.

“No, please, laugh more,” I said. “I’m just delighted that my predicament amuses you.” I rubbed my aching hand.

The man straightened up, looking a tiny bit embarrassed. “Oh, did you hurt your hand?” he said, holding his hand out. He seemed to be asking for a closer look at the damage I’d done to myself.

I gave him my hand. He gently parted the hair over my knuckles and looked closely at the skin below. He ran his thumbs over the knuckles and the spaces between.

“I don’t think anythings broken, and there’s no scrapes so you’ve got some good fur on you. It’s probably going to be really bruised later. I’ve got some salve in my pack in case you want some?”

That was when I noticed that he had a small pack over one shoulder and a large felling axe strapped to it. He had a utility knife on one hip and a hatchet on the other.

“Let me guess, you’re a Woodsman?” I said.

“Forester,” he said. “The name’s Jethro. What about you?”

“Petra. Scavenger. Just starting out,” I said.

“Well obviously. Nobody punches a tree unless they don’t know any better.”

“How should I start then?” I said.

“You’re being too ambitious. The skill tree starts way further down than wood. You’ve got to build your tools first. Start by collecting dried grasses to make crude twine and keep an eye out for good sized rocks and branches.”

“So I can build a stone axe?” I said, the crafting recipe forming itself in my mind as he spoke.

“Come along with me,” he said. “You’ll level faster with me to teach you. Once you’ve levelled enough you can borrow my hatchet.”

I was more than a little surprised by his generosity. “Thanks, how will I ever repay you?” I said, wondering what dickery he was up to.

“Ah don’t worry about that. I’ll be using you to level up my TUTOR skill so I can unlock the APPRENTICE perk. I’ve got a little brother who’s been begging me to take him on but he’s too young for me to train him with a zero level skill. Once I’ve got the apprentice perk we’ll both level faster.”

That was refreshingly honest of him. He could have demanded some sort of repayment, or just made a huge thing about how I was going to owe him for his help. Was it possible that he was just a genuinely kind person?

“Where are we going?” I said, falling into step behind him.

“Just to my work-site. I’m clearing some wind-fallen trees. There’s a real variety of plants there. You should be able to find enough to help you level up.”