NEW GENERAL SKILL LEARNED!
Rope Use – Skill Level 6 (Tier-0)
You do realize that this Skill is meant for sailing, setting up tarps, tying down hay bales, things like that?
*Since this Skill predates your arrival in Arenia, it has been set at a level commensurate with the practical ability you already possess.
300 XP Earned (cumulative)
“Please, please, please,” Mark whispered. “I know there must be gods here, and if you’re listening, I really need that rat to go low, not high.”
Whether or not a god did reach out to answer his prayers, Mark had no idea. What he did know was that when next he heard from the rat, it was as a scratching sound inside the logs instead of 40 kilos of Fire Swamp cosplay landing on top of his head.
“Thanks, boss,” Mark whispered skyward before refocusing on the logs.
A period of anxious anticipation passed as Mark waited for the dire rat to emerge from the pile. He heard it nearing his position, then as soon as the rat’s disgusting face emerged from the log pile, Mark lunged at it and threw the noose over the creature’s head.
For a moment, Mark felt a surge of hope that he could pull off his daring plan. That celebration was short-lived.
The instant Mark turned his back to grab the other end of the rope from where it dangled over the tree branch, searing pain shot through his leg, dropping him to the ground like he had been shot. Letting out a scream of agony, Mark turned to see that the rat had plunged its enormous incisors almost completely through the calf of his left leg and was refusing to let go, using Mark’s leg to pull itself free of the log pile.
No!
Mark was too damned close to give up now. With a focus fuelled by desperation, he turned his back on the rat and lunged for all he was worth, literally dragging the beast behind him as he stretched to his absolute limits, finally managing to close his hand around the dangling end of the rope, and with it, a chance at survival.
There was no time for celebration. The moment Mark stopped pulling away from the rat, it instinctively tried to pull him back towards the hole from which it was emerging. Not surprisingly, that resulted in a hell of a lot of pain for Mark, but it also allowed him to quickly take up all the slack in the rope.
As soon as the rope went taut and the rat felt the noose around its neck tighten, it doubled down, biting even harder into Mark’s leg. For Mark though, that changed nothing about the equation.
The plan had been simple. Get a rope over a branch. Form one end into a noose and loop it around the rat’s neck, then haul it into the air until it was dead. But even the simplest plan doesn’t survive initial execution, and with the rat now clamped onto Mark’s calf, he’d effectively formed a circle where every ounce of force he used to pull on the rope created an equivalent force on his own leg. A pull that was being funnelled through the gigantic rat teeth embedded in his calf. Which meant that if he wanted to choke this rat to death like planned, he was going to have to eat pain and a whole lot of it.
“NyyyyyyaaaaAAAHHH GOD DAMN THAT HURTS!” Mark screamed as he hauled on the rope, the fire in his leg exploding into a new sphere of agony.
If pain had been Mark’s only reward, he might have given up right then and there. But that wasn’t the case. Instead, Mark’s pull caused him and the rat to slide across the ground, each pull dragging them through the dirt until they were directly under the branch that was acting as an impromptu pulley. The success of Mark’s actions emboldened him to continue, and so he did, soon being rewarded with the feeling of the rat getting hoisted off the ground by the neck. Mark’s superior weight kept him on the ground, but the pull of the rope caused the dire rat to begin rising off the ground, its hind legs kicking and scratching as it tried to get free. Mark held firm though, fully expecting the creature to let go of his leg. Much to his dismay, the rat refused despite the increasing tension of the rope, its glassy black eyes staring down at Mark with predatory hate.
Fury overcame pain, and Mark roared, pulling so hard on the rope that his own body got hoisted into the air along with the rat, the combined weight tearing at the vicious wound in his leg.
Constitution +1
Yeesh. What are you planning for an encore, pulling out your own intestine and choking an egghound to death with it?
Mark was oblivious to the reward notice, his focus entirely devoted to his battle with the rat.
“Come on, you bastard! Just admit that you’re dead already!” he screamed, his body swinging inverted beneath the squirming creature.
How long they stayed like that, Mark couldn’t say. His arms burned, but with everything it had taken to get to this position, there was no way he was letting go of that rope. Ironically, the only time he did almost let go was when the rat finally released his leg. The broken connection caused Mark to suddenly drop to the ground while the rat was simultaneously yanked higher into the air, resulting in Mark having to scramble to keep his hold on the rope.
When his grip was secure again, Mark took a moment to simply lie on the ground, staring at the dire rat above him. As he realized the significance of what had just happened, he began laughing uncontrollably, his tone growing increasingly unhinged.
Realizing that he was starting to sound insane, Mark forced himself to focus on the state of the creature hanging from the tree. He watched as it continued in its struggles, but over time those struggles grew gradually weaker until finally, all motion stopped.
The rat swung back and forth. Unmoving. Its swollen tongue dangling out the side of its mouth. Despite those seemingly clear signs, Mark couldn’t bring himself to believe that it was indeed dead.
You have slain a Level 2 Dire Rat.
Congratulations on your first kill since arriving on Arenia. Even if it was very disturbing to watch.
200 XP Earned
“Good enough for me,” Mark said. He moved aside and let go of the rope, the body of the dire rat thudding into the dirt next to him.
After staring at the dead beast for a moment, Mark did a quick once over to evaluate the damage he’d inflicted upon himself. It didn’t take long to work out that his leg was going to be a problem.
“Shit,” Mark muttered, staring at the destroyed leg that was still bleeding freely. He had to do something immediately if he wanted to avoid bleeding out. At least it wasn’t spraying arterial flow everywhere—there was at least a chance that a compression bandage would be enough to staunch the flow. Fortunately, that was within Mark’s range of skill.
“Looks like the Boy Scouts are going to save my ass twice today,” he muttered.
Taking the knife out of the backpack, Mark used it to cut off the already-shredded pantleg that surrounded his wound, then pulled a clean undershirt out of his backpack to use as wadding. Forming the shirt into a shape that he could tie in position, Mark stuck the cloth on the wound and held it tightly in place as he tied it down firmly with the remains of the pant leg.
Mark examined his handiwork and nodded to himself. It wasn’t perfection, but it was enough to stop the bleeding.
NEW SURVIVAL SKILL LEARNED!
Field Medicine – Skill Level 6 (Tier-0)
Now you know why most people don’t wander around in the woods without healing potions.
Note: Tier-III (Journeyman) in this Skill requires the profession of “Barber.”
*Since this Skill predates your arrival in Arenia, it has been set at a level commensurate with the practical ability you already possess.
300 XP Earned (cumulative)
Ignoring the snarkiness of the pages, Mark noted that this time the paper barely materialized even though he had full awareness of what was written on it. Perhaps it was a result of his prior thought about the papers being distracting?
Mark knew he had to move, but before he could, another page flitted through the periphery of his vision.
Luck +1
The odds of you pulling off that fiasco were way, way off the charts. You saw your Luck score, right? Why would
you even TRY something like that?
Yeah, say it like he had a choice. And now he was exhausted, wounded, and lost. At least—
Mark felt a lightness in his head, and his hands fluttered. It was the slightest movement, but it was enough to send him into a panic. His head spun around, searching somewhere, anywhere, for him to hide. He was exposed, out in the elements, and with a large pile of soon-to-be rotting meat on the ground next to him.
Where could he go? He needed someplace small. Small enough that he could get in, but nothing larger than that.
Mark’s eyes snapped to the tiny hole in the log pile the rat had squeezed through. It was barely half the size of a playground tube slide, but he launched into a hobbling run regardless, practically diving inside and attempting to drag himself along by his elbows, desperate to get his whole body inside before—
Chapter 7
Jack
There was a flash as the world abruptly stopped racing up at Jack’s feet, and he found himself standing on a bed of pine needles, a stone’s throw from the precipice of a rocky cliff. The sun was hot, the air was clean, and the turkey in his hand had just lost its mind.
“Clu-PUUUCK!” the turkey bellowed, flapping so wildly that it finally freed itself from Jack’s grip and sprinted away, looking back to see if Jack was pursuing it. Which was too bad—if it had been looking forward, maybe it wouldn’t have run straight off the cliff.
Jack watched as the turkey disappeared. As someone who had hunted quite a bit in his youth, he was well aware that unlike wild turkeys, domesticated ones couldn’t fly.
“Good riddance,” he muttered.
Sticking his hands on his hips, Jack’s attention was drawn to the strange feel of the fabric beneath his fingers. Looking down, he saw that his Earthen clothes had been replaced with items made of some sort of rough, homespun cloth like his mother had made in his youth. It was a decent cut and gave him a welcome sense of nostalgia. He could also feel the weight of a rucksack on his shoulders, which was good. This would be easier with some supplies.
Jack took in his surroundings.
“I have no goddamned idea where I am,” he muttered. Not that it changed anything. No point knowing where you were if you didn’t know where you were going.
Jack thought through his situation. Between that green idiot’s yammering and his great-granddaughter’s exhaustive descriptions of whatever games she was playing over the years—the kid probably didn’t even realize he was paying attention—it seemed reasonable to expect that he had some sort of “character sheet,” as she’d called it. And if he remembered correctly, the lizard said it would be in something called a Tome.
There was a faint popping noise as a book appeared in the air in front of Jack. It was unexpected but no weirder than half a dozen other things that had already happened that day, so Jack took it in stride. He grabbed the book and looked at it closely.
The Tome was simple, just a beaten-up diary. Not like one of the fancy modern ones with flowers and crap where people moaned about how nobody understood them. A good, sturdy diary like the one he’d had during the war.
In fact, it looked exactly like the diary Jack had during the war, right down to the worn leather cover with the year embossed on it. It even had scorch marks that matched the ones his diary had received when Barty lit Jack’s pack on fire during one of the man’s idiot pranks. Other than the scorch mark, it was hardly a reminder of pleasant times.
“Guess that’s how that works,” Jack muttered as he tossed the diary aside and watched it disappear. He didn’t need to look at it right now—hell, he probably wouldn’t understand it regardless. What was more important was getting a handle on the situation, and right now, something felt off.
Jack looked around. He stared off into the distance and to the ground at his feet. Then he peered at the spot where the turkey had gone off the cliff.
Nope, his mind wasn’t playing tricks on him—his vision was fuzzy, and not in the way he was accustomed to. Curious, Jack took off his glasses.
The world exploded into a clarity Jack hadn’t experienced since he was in his 20’s. If anything, the world was clearer than he remembered.
“Ain’t that a treat,” Jack said, chuckling to himself. Pretty handy, not having to worry about breaking his glasses on this weird planet.
Now in better spirits, Jack swung off his backpack and took a knee in the pine needles. That was when he got his second big surprise.
“What the hell?” he muttered.
Jack stood. Then knelt again. Then stood. Then knelt. He stood and did a few jumping jacks, then some stretches. Every movement was pain-free. Even his thoughts had more clarity. Bringing up the Tome he had dismissed earlier, Jack took it and opened to the first page.
JOHN “JACK” MILSOM
Renown: Level 1 – Unclassed
Species: Human
Age: 95
Experience: 0
Experience to Next Level: 300
Base Attributes
Strength – 20
Constitution – 22
Endurance – 24
Dexterity – 21
Willpower – 24
Intelligence – 19
Charisma – 13
Luck – 32
AVERAGE: 21.9
Jack tried to work out what the numbers meant. Based on the first four values, he guessed that the 17 for Intelligence and the 13 for Charisma weren’t great. That was fine. He never claimed to be the smartest man, and he knew he rubbed some people the wrong way. That didn’t bother him. He didn’t suffer fools and had no regrets about the fact. But that 33 in Luck seemed an outright slap in the face. He’d buried a wife and a daughter, both in the prime of their lives. What did life look like in this world for someone with bad Luck?
Grumbling, Jack flipped through the diary’s empty pages until he came to a tab labelled “TRAITS.” Opening it up, he was greeted with a description that read:
TRAITS
Well-Aged (special)
This trait renders you immune from negative effects associated with old age.
Evolving (human*)
As a human, you are capable of evolving into higher lifeforms. This requires a gift of essence from the target species and satisfaction of a species-specific quest chain.
*This Trait is not lost upon evolving to a new form. However, subsequent evolutions must be to a more elevated form.
On the next page, there was a tab labelled “CONDITIONS.”
CONDITIONS
Muscular Atrophy: Stage 5 (-10 STR) – IMMUNE
Aged Appearance: Stage 4 (-4 CHA) – IMMUNE
Stooped: Stage 5 (-3 CHA, -5 STR) – IMMUNE
Arthritic: Stage 4 (-4 DEX, -5 CON) – IMMUNE
Flexibility Loss: Stage 4 (-6 DEX) – IMMUNE
Thin Skin: Stage 4 (Prone to bruising and abrasions) – IMMUNE
Optical Degeneration: Stage 3 (-3 CON, -3 WIL) – IMMUNE
Not Dead Yet: Stage 3 (+5 LUCK)
Osteoporosis: Stage 1 (-5 CON) – IMMUNE
Mental Degeneration: Stage 1 (-2 INT, -2 WIS) – IMMUNE
Memory Loss: Stage 1 (10% memory loss*) – IMMUNE
Prone to Nod: Stage 4 (60% increase in tendency to fall asleep throughout the day) – IMMUNE
Dental Health: Stage 4 (60% loss of teeth, additional damage to remaining teeth) – IMMUNE
Hearing Loss: Stage 5 (80% hearing loss) – IMMUNE
Loss of Smell: Stage 6 (Complete loss of smell) – IMMUNE
Balance Loss: Stage 3 (-3 DEX, prone to falling) – IMMUNE
*Additional memory loss due to conscious memory repression. Condition has been resolved.
That certainly answered a lot of questions. No wonder Jack felt better than he had in half a century. The item “Stooped” particularly caught his eye.
Stretching up to his full height, Jack was surprised to discover that he could hold himself upright again. “That’ll be handy,” he muttered, nodding to himself. He skimmed over the re
st of the items, running his tongue over a brand-new set of real teeth. Then he popped out his hearing aid and grinned again. He closed his eyes and took a moment to smell the crisp pine air and listen to the sounds of a living forest.
The tiniest crack of a breaking branch brought Jack’s head whipping around.
An animal slunk out of the woods. It was dog-like and lanky, not burly like a wolf, with long legs and a mangy appearance.
Coyote. Not the first time Jack had seen one, but this was probably the worst-looking specimen he’d ever encountered. Its hair was matted, one of its ears had almost been torn off in some long-ago battle, and it was so skinny that its ribs were showing.
A small page of paper flashed off to the side of Jack’s vision and then disappeared. Once it was gone, a strange feeling surged through Jack’s mind, as though he’d just stepped out of a briefing on this particular opponent and could remember every word perfectly:
Threat Assessment: Level 1 Starving Coyote
The target has been ill and unable to hunt. As a result, she is weak but motivated. If she can kill you, she will soon regain her strength, so she has risked everything on an all-or-nothing strategy. Good luck, soldier: Only one of you is making it out of this alive.
You gotta be kidding me, Jack thought. Not only was it weird as hell, but the tone of the message was more like an old war movie than actual warfare. Was every interaction with this screwed-up world going to be that annoying?
Arrival: Legends of Arenia Book 1 (A LitRPG Story) Page 8