Mark woke slowly, enjoying the warmth the fire gave off, still reaching him before the cold could. A new day needed a new plan. Mark thought back over the past two days since entering this crazy new world. Many things had changed. He now had food, water, and shelter. But now he needed a way to defend himself without getting too close.
Looking over at his empty water pouch, he sighed. Morning routine it is. Water, food, and checking traps were at the top of the list. On his trip to the stream, he found his first trap had been disturbed but not triggered. Looking at the trap, he decided that improving it needed to be a priority.
His next trap had better results, sort of anyway. He was looking at a very angry Razor Rabbit. It did not look happy about being caught in the trap. Pulling out his makeshift spear, he attempted to kill it but only managed to break off the tip of the spear. He did not kill it but did wound it. Now it was really upset, jerking back and forth with the trap and biting at it.
“Note to self: I really need a ranged weapon.” Pulling out his trusty rock, he circled the trap holding the razor rabbit. This was not going to happen without at least a few bites. Rushing in quickly, he hit the rabbit on the head as hard as he could. Of course, he got bitten for the effort. Mark threw the rock at it, and it, of course, dodged out of the way. Steeling up his nerves and taking out a new rock, he rushed in again and smacked the razor rabbit over and over again until he saw the system message.
[Razor Rabbit — Level 1]
Defeated
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Mark looted the rabbit, netting him more razor meat and a torn hide. Again, he took out the torn hide and fibers and made another bandage. He was not making much progress on collecting hides because he seemed to use one every time he got hurt. Mark cleaned up the trap and reset it, making sure it was ready for the next thing that came along.
He then continued toward the stream. Looking around to ensure he was alone, he slowly approached the first trap. Looking in, he was delighted to find not just one but two fish. Pulling out another stick and snapping it, he used it to kill his two fish.
[Small River Fish — Level 1]
Defeated
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[River Trout — Level 2]
Defeated
◈ ◈ ◈
[Level Up Available]
That timing couldn’t have been better. He flexed his injured hand slightly. “Yeah, great timing.” He reached out and selected level up.
[Level Up]
Character: Mark
Level: 2
+5 Stat Points Available
◈ ◈ ◈
[Skill Acquired]
Primitive Crafting Level 1
Allows:
Create simple tools and equipment from natural materials.Recognize suitable materials for primitive construction.Reduce common mistakes when crafting basic equipment.
◈ ◈ ◈
Mark looted the fish. Between the two fish, he got three pieces of fish and three fish bones. He bent down and did a little rework on his trap. After one last look around, he headed back to camp. He puzzled over his new skill. Primitive Crafting. A bow would be a great ranged weapon. But could he make one?
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Arriving back at camp, he sat down to work on his next project. What was a bow? A bent stick and a string. That sounded simple, right? Well, at least in theory. He pulled out a straight branch from his inventory and gripped it with both hands, testing its weight.
“Alright, let’s see.” He began to bend it slowly. For a moment, it resisted. Then it snapped. The branch split cleanly in half. Mark winced. “Okay, not that one.” He looked down at the broken pieces and then tossed them aside. It was too stiff. After a moment’s thought, he moved back into the trees, searching more carefully this time. Not just straight, not just strong, but flexible. But not too flexible. It took longer than he expected.
He set the previous attempts aside. Mark picked up the next branch, testing it more slowly, applying pressure bit by bit. It bent, not much but enough. It resisted but did not break. His eyes narrowed slightly. “That just might work.” Carefully he pulled out the crude fiber string he had made earlier. Holding the branch under tension, he tied the string to one end and then pulled it tight and secured the other end. The branch curved slightly but held in place with the string.
[Item Created: Crude Bow]
Mark just looked at the message. He did it. “Well, that’s something.” He turned the bow over and over in his hands, testing the tension carefully. It felt fragile and unreliable, but it had worked. Sort of. “Better than a rock,” he muttered. Mark studied the crude bow in his hand. The system let him see the imperfections and how he could improve them over time. But for now it would do.
“Alright, now I need something to shoot.” The thought of arrows felt simple. Actually making them, well, probably not so easy. He let out a breath and looked around the clearing. “So what do I have to work with? Trees, branches, rocks. That will have to be enough.”
Mark set aside the bow and headed back into the forest, scanning the ground as he walked. This time he wasn’t just looking for anything; he was looking for something specific. He needed to find thin sticks as straight as he could find. It took longer than he expected. By the time he returned, he had gathered a small bundle of thin sticks, some better than others but all usable.
He sat down on a rock and laid them out in front of him. Alright, what makes an arrow? A shaft, a tip, and something at the end to hold the string. “That’s good enough to start.” He picked up the first stick and examined the broken end. It was too rough, too uneven. He needed to sharpen it. Mark grabbed a rock and began scraping the tip of the stick against it. He slowly ground it down. It wasn’t efficient, but it was clean. But after a while the wood began to taper to a rough point. “That might work.”
Next problem, he needed to add the notch. He turned one of the sticks over and frowned. “This part needs to sit on the string.” He flattened the end slightly using a rock and then searched for a rock with a sharper edge. Carefully he began carving into the wood, trying to create a groove.
The first attempt went badly; the wood split with a sharp crack. Mark stared at the broken shaft. “Too much pressure.” He set it aside and picked up another. This time he went slower, more carefully. The groove formed gradually, not clean or even but usable. He then saw a system message.
[Item Created: Improvised Arrow]
Mark blinked and then smiled. “I’ll take it.” He then picked it up and turned it over in his hands. It looked fragile and uneven, but it was an arrow, and that was enough. Now that he had made the first one, the rest went faster. He knew how to make minor adjustments from his first time to make them better and faster. By the time he was done, he had nine usable arrows. He lost a few more to splits and other mistakes. He discarded another when he realized the tip was bad now that he understood the craft.
Mark gathered them up and stood, glancing around the clearing. “Alright, let’s see if this actually works.” He stepped back, putting some distance between himself and the nearest tree. Too close wouldn’t prove anything. He kept going back, further and further. Eventually, he stopped and turned. The tree stood wide ahead of him, still impossible to miss. “Perfect.”
He pulled out one of the arrows and set it against the bowstring, adjusting it awkwardly until it felt mostly right. “Okay.” He raised the bow and drew back the string. It felt weak and unstable, but it held. He aimed for the center of the tree, held his breath, and released the string. The arrow flew.
For a brief moment it seemed like it might actually hit. Then it veered sharply to the side, wobbling mid-flight before sailing past the tree entirely. Not close, nowhere near close. It disappeared into the forest beyond his sight. Slowly Mark lowered the bow. “Huh.” He stared at the empty space where the arrow should have been. Then he let out a long breath. “Yeah, that didn’t work.”
He glanced down at the remaining arrows and then at the bow. “Bow plus an arrow doesn’t equal skill,” he said, pausing. “Or accuracy.” His gaze shifted to the trees again, more thoughtful now. “It’s not just the bow,” he murmured. “And it’s definitely not just the arrow.” His bow was too light, and the arrows were too uneven. There was no control. He looked down at one of the shafts, rolling it between his fingers.
“I am missing something. Feathers, maybe better tips, stronger string. Something to make it fly straight.” Mark exhaled slowly. “Alright.” He adjusted his grip on the bow. “Step by step.”