Survive

by Narlepoax III

On The Prowl

Warning!
This chapter contains scenes of gore. I do not suggest that you read this, if you have a weak stomach.

As a name, I volunteer Owen. In the book "ten little Indians," one of the characters aliases is U.N. Owen, which is a play on the word "unknown". I volunteer this name because his name is otherwise, or as yet, unknown.

Think of U.N. Owen and call yourself that.

Additionally, Owen would be a good name for the as-yet-unnamed protagonist.

I think his name should be Daniel, because he has amnesia. Sorry I couldn't think of anything more clever. I tried, believe me.

also, why not Daniel Owens? sounds classy, and two referances at once,most humans do have two names.

You don't know why, but you can't get rid of this nagging sensation that you should create a name to call yourself by. Maybe it's some longing to be like most other humans you know of? Maybe it's because you want to craft a new identity for yourself, now that you've lost your original one? Well, the reason doesn't matter much, in the long run. All you know is that you want a name, and that you should create one.

You rack your brain for anything that could be used in your context. Your name is going to define you, and you should really pick one that's appropriate. Since you have no personal experience with names, you turn to media you may have consumed in your past. Searching your mind for any names connected to amnesia, or mysterious pasts, you come up with two suitable candidates.

You remember a book by the title of "Ten Little Indians", in which one of the characters went by the alias "U.N. Owen", a reference to the word "unknown". That seems like a worthy name, Owen. Alternatively, you remember a popular video game called "Amnesia", in which the protagonist was named "Daniel". Another appropriate candidate for your self-made title, but which one should you choose?

...

Why should you choose? You know that most humans have a least two names, why should you settle for only one? You make your decision, and enact it.

Command Prompt>
player>
changefullname to>
Owen Daniels

It's settled, your name is now Owen Daniels. But now, you have more pressing matters to attend to. You have lost track of the pygmy pony, and you think it may have been captured by the strange beast. Even if the pony is fine, all you have to go by is the strange track of the strange beast. You really only have foraging to do today, and it's still a few hours until the sun goes down.

If the beast was going in the same direction as the Pygmy, try to follow the swathe of destruction. At the very least, you need to find someone/something, not to mention returning your stolen weapon.

With the strange creature crashing through the underbrush like that it is most likely either the most powerful thing in the jungle or very stupid. Either way it is probably unsuspecting of something hunting/following so you should definitely notice it before it notices you. Besides it's the only lead you have toward anything because if the river leads to a spring (which could be miles away) you will have no idea where to go once you reach it.

Considering you can't see any more of the pygmy pony's prints, it'd be safe to assume it's off the ground somehow.

The strange beast might be carrying it, whether as a meal, a slave (if the beast is indeed sentient), or any number of various other methods.

The pygmy pony could be with this strange beast.

Maybe it's eaten the pony. Maybe it's sapient, and has captured the pony for nefarious purposes. Maybe the strange beast serves as some kind of mount for the pony. Maybe the pygmy pony has changed direction, and the strange beast is following it. Maybe the beast was never tracking the pony, and they are far separate by now. Whatever is going on, you only have one lead at the moment.

If the strange beast is okay with making such a massive mark on the jungle, it's obviously near the top of the food chain here. It's last worry would be getting hunted. You should really try to make sure the strange beast is not a threat to your survival. So long as you tread with utmost care, you should be able to avoid conflicting with the strange beast.

Attempt to gauge size of beast by tracks. also note if the tracks are deeper than they were before, to cement or disprove snake theory.

Look even MORE closleyer to the STRANGE BEAST tracks maybe there is something you didnt Notice/Comprehend why something with two hooves and a snake like trail is there,

You look again at the strange beast's tracks. Deep hoof prints covered by a constant deep depression in the soil. Hoof prints are spaced to suggest only two hooves, and not moving in a hurry. Depression covers hoof prints, in some instances, suggesting that depression is occurring directly behind hooves. The size and depth of the hoof prints suggests that their maker was incredibly large, and heavy. This is supported, by the way the hoof prints in the mud seem to have gotten stuck. They go deep, and there are signs of the strange beast struggling to pull them back out. You notice that these hoof prints, as opposed to the pygmy pony's, are cloven, the line in the middle having been obvious the whole time.

Maybe your mind isn't as powerful as you thought it was.

This is either some animal with hooves using it's front legs to drag something behind it, or some kind of snake-itaur. You have no idea why, but that sounds familiar. Maybe there is some kind of beast with hooves and a snake tail. The mystery only fuels your curiosity toward it.

lets grit our teeth and pierce the heavens[hold the stone knife up] with our drill and man up, no creature may stand in mans knowledge and taste for war!

You grip the tiny spear with conviction, and hop to the other side of the stream. You slink into the trees, just to the side of the strange beast's trail.You quietly steal through the trees, keeping the tracks to your left. You continue like this for a while, making sure that you always have sight of the strange beast's tracks. You climb over roots, and duck under branches, weaving through the plants with as little impact on them as you can muster. After five minutes of doggedly tracking the strange beast, something catches your eye. Something you've been looking for since the beginning of this whole ordeal.

search for a thwomping stick

continue the hunt for the sturdy dead whackin stick,

Just off to your right, tangled in vines and undergrowth, is a stick. But not just any stick, this is the perfect stick. You walk over to the stick and untangle it from it's plantish resting place. Holding it in your hands makes it easier to get a good look at it.

It's not quite as tall as you are. Any bark that was once on it, has been peeled away by something. Probably time, considering that the wood underneath is dried, and gray. The stick is almost perfectly straight, with the only mar being a very slight curve in the wood's entire length. The stick is thin enough to be comfortable in your hand, but thick enough to stand up to brutal punishment. All of these features are nothing, however, compared to the most useful thing about it. The tip of the stick is broken in just such a way, as to have a long, and deadly point. It's almost a perfect, naturally made spear.

Such a stick can't just be called "stick", this tool needs a name.

You take a breath, and say, in your most authoritative voice, "Stick, I hereby christen thee:

IDSOTA does not react, but you knew it wouldn't. IDSOTA is just too cool to react. You tuck the tiny pygmy pony's spear into your "belt", and equip IDSOTA to your right hand.

With your new weapon of doom acquired, you return to your previous task, tracking the strange beast.

You return to the side of the trail, and begin following once more. The time goes by basically uneventfully, and you actually consider giving up, and returning to the stream. Just as you are about to turn back, you catch site of an abnormality in the pattern of the jungle.

It's another clearing, different from the one you awoke in. You know this, because, rather than being a naturally formed clearing, this one is definitely artificial. There is almost no undergrowth in this clearing, it seems that all of it was torn up, or crushed. Trees have been toppled, broken just above the ground by something large, and very strong. Many of the trees that haven't fallen have deep grooves carved into them, as if by an animal with shedding antlers. You notice something else out of the corner of your periphery. A long, and thick, white tube lies near the edge of the trees.

You take cautious looks around the clearing, to make sure there's nothing around. The coast is clear.

With great care to be silent, you exit the tree line, and check around the clearing. Everything smells of dirt, and animal waste. This is definitely some animal's home. A big animal, by the looks of things. More trails exit the clearing, just like the one you followed here. It would be impossible to tell which trail is the one that leads to the strange beast. It takes a bit for you to find which path you came from, but you find it, and mark it by scratching an arrow into the bark with the pygmy pony's spear.

Now that you're sure you won't get lost, you creep into the strange beast's clearing. With nothing else noteworthy around, your first stop is at the odd white tube. It's about as large around as you are from shoulder to shoulder. It stretches about ten feet long, and gradually becomes thinner, into a point at the end. The entire thing is made of white scales.

Well, that confirms the snake theory. This is definitely a very large snake's shed skin, but only about half of it. You can't see any more skin, but searching for it causes you to spot something else, near the center of the clearing. It's white, and thin. You walk over to the object, and pick it up. It's curved in the middle, black on the pointy tips, and cleanly severed at the other end. It looks like a bull's horn, but you know that bovines don't shed horns, this probably came from a kill of the snake's. You drop it on the ground, no longer interested in holding the thing any more.

That was probably a bad idea, as you hear a snort come from your right.

Unnamed Protagonist may or may not run into unwanted preditors or prey

You turn to look at the cause of the noise, and what you see causes your blood to turn icy. An enormous black bull is uncurling himself from off of the ground, underneath an overhang of dirt. His black fur blends in to the shadows of his den almost seamlessly. The bull stands roughly eight feet from hoof to shoulder. He looks at you, blearily, having obviously just been awoken by the noise you made. He stares at you confusedly for a while, before he seemingly realizes that you are in his territory. He bears his teeth, showing long, pointed fangs. He rolls his head with rage, and paws at the ground, snorting again.

"Oh, shit," slips out of your mouth, before the bull bellows at you, and begins an awkward charge. You snap out of your stunned fear, and turn to the direction you came from, your heart pounding like a jackhammer. Once you spot the arrow, you begin sprinting away from the mass of anger and muscle.

You flee from the bull as fast as you can. You follow the strange beast's trail, leaping over high roots, and ducking under low lying branches, but the forest still grabs at you, whipping your skin with thin branches and twigs. You can hear the bull charging at you, just behind every move you make.

"WHY IS THERE A CARNIVOROUS BULL IN THE JUNGLE?!" you think, using IDSOTA to vault a particularly high root, "BULLS ARE NOT SUITED FOR THIS KIND OF ENVIRONMENT!"

That doesn't matter right now. What matters, is not being gored by an angry bovine. You put your attentions into the current situation, you swear you can feel the bull's hot breath beating on your back. Suddenly, a vine on the jungle's floor grabs your foot, and you are sent sprawling to the ground, IDSOTA flying from your grip. You instantly start scrambling for the stick, hearing the bull's crashing coming closer. You finally manage to get your hand on IDSOTA, and roll onto you back, to see the mass of black fur and muscle barely three feet away.

go into the predator aspects of ones mind and prepare for the hunt!

let your primal human out for the "Hunt" your instincts will guide you to a warriors victory!, fucking leeroy jenkins this bitch(its too fucking hot i wana smack shit)

You only just barely manage to get IDSOTA between the bull and yourself, before he falls upon you. The spear goes right into his dewlap, and sinks deep into his thorax. Before you can celebrate, the enormous animal crushes you, you feel the both of you sliding through the dirt for several feet. Several disconcerting cracks and pops sound from the strange sliding pile of flesh that is you and the bull, before the ground finally manages to stop your abuse of it.

The bull is on top of you. Your only your right arm remains unpinned, and you can feel terrible pain screaming from your right thigh, and left side. You start to yell in pain, but before you can, the bull starts squirming, exacerbating the agony from your broken bones. The bull is not dead. Another pop comes from your left hip, and more pain jolts through you. You let out an anguished cry, as the bull tries to get it's fangs into you. It's all you can do to move your neck out of reach of the beast's maw.

Pick up a nice sized face smashin rock

Your hand scrabbles through the dead leaves and undergrowth, trying desperately to find something to defend your life with. You feel your hand brush a large rock, embedded in the earth. You instantly latch onto it, and begin pulling it out of the ground. You manage to pry it from the dirt, but the sudden shift of inertia causes you to lose your grip on it. You just manage to get find it again, when the bull finally manages to sink his fangs into your shoulder.

With a scream of pain, you grab the rock, and bring it down on the bull's massive skull.

He release you, and bellows with agony, but you refuse to let up. You smash the rock into the bull's head again.

The bull bleats in pain, and you hit him again.

The bull's entire body goes limp, but you keep hitting him.

The bull twitches.

The bull remains still.

You rear your arm back for another blow, but the blood on the rock causes it to slip from your hand, and fly out of your reach. With a cough of exertion, you let yourself go limp, gasping from the weight on your chest. You begin to wriggle your way out from under the bull, managing to free your left arm, before the lack of oxygen causes you to become woozy.

Once your head stops spinning, you start clawing yourself free. The blood from the bull acts as a lubricant, making the job much easier. You excise your chest from under the beast, and shove it's giant ruined head off of your stomach. You collapse, finally able to take full breaths again.

You stay there for a while, gasping to get your blood re-oxygenated. Pain shoots from your legs, and side, and you look down to your chest to examine the situation. Through the dried mud, an angry red patch, mottled with dark purple, covers about two or three ribs on your left side. Obviously, you have broken some of them.

Enough lying around, you need to get out from under the dead beast. You again start crawling, straining your legs in the process, the pain is almost overwhelming. Luckily, the bloody mud under the bull makes your legs slip out almost easily. You feel the fern skirt slip off, as you fight your way to freedom. Just before you pull completely away, a thought hits you. You reach down to the bull, and pull the pygmy pony's spear out from under him. Once you have it, you slip the rest of your legs away.

The pain and exertion is starting to get to you, as you see your vision darkening. With all your strength, and quite a lot of pain, you manage to drag yourself under a tree, lean against it's trunk, and drop to rest again. You can feel your consciousness slipping away, as you take a look at the massive beast you just slew.

It certainly is a gargantuan bull. The horns protruding from it's destroyed cranium extend at least two feet, you're amazed that they missed you. It's black coat, stained by crimson blood, covers it's body to about just under the ribs, but that's where things start getting weird... Right where the ribcage ends, the coat of fur abruptly stops, to be replaced by large, dark green scales. The beast's body tapers into a dull point, with no second set of limbs to be found. It's some kind of half-snake, half-bull monster.

Ah-ha! So this is or rather was the strange beast. You rack your memory for a name to call this creature. It takes a while, but one comes to you.

"Ophiotaurus. From Greek myth, a beast that is half bull, half serpent. Legend tells of a prophecy, that whomever could slay the beast would take on the power to kill gods."

Strange, you don't feel particularly god-slaying, right now. Right now, you feel miserable. You feel abused, hungry, and confused. Nauseous, exhausted, and in-pain. Furious, terrified, and frustrated to all hell. Everything comes boiling to the front, and you suddenly have an emotional break.

STOP. Can you feel it? All of your frustration on your current situation. Your confusion, your fears, everything. Before you go any further, look towards the heavens and scream as loud as you can! Let it all out!

You rear your head back to the sky, and roar at the heavens as loudly as you can, tearing your vocal cords with the effort. You continue like this for about a full minute, before your lungs demand that you stop your abuse of them. Coughing, you let your head loll onto your shoulder, feeling every stress of the past half hour catch up with you at once. Your eyes close, and your mind dulls...

Feel better? I sure hope so, because that was probably a bit detrimental to your survival.

God...

damn it...

brain...

It's the stench that wakes you, this time.

The choking, suffocating stench, that causes your nose to sting.

Once your brain rouses your consciousness, you become startlingly aware of three things:

1) Your left hip is in agony.
2) Your lips are cracked, and your throat is on fire. Both from it's abuse, and lack of water.
3) Your belly is very upset at you, for being ignored.

You open your eyes, gently this time, to be greeted by the most revolting sight you have ever been graced with, in your memory.

The ophiotaurus's corpse is bloated, stretched skin stained by the disgustingly colored "fluids" leaking from the wounds you inflicted upon it. Flies swarm around the carcass, as maggots, and other insects, crawl over the beast's body. Amazingly, no scavengers have found the cadaver or you , despite the amount of blood, and your screaming.

You make to sit up, but your hip reminds you of it's damage. You grunt, and fall back against the tree. That's when you notice the change in light. Everything is much darker now, and you can even see the sun shining through the trees directly in front of you. You look down at your hand, and catch sight of the pony's spear. The spear's shaft is broken, about in the middle, the spear's head, amazingly, has survived. You grab the remainder of the spear's pole, and snap it off. There is no point in putting it off now, if it's already broken.

Your hip gives another throb, and you look down at it. The first thing you notice, is your return to nudity. You left your skirt under the ophiotaurus. The second thing you notice, is the fact that your mud has fallen off. You'll have to reapply it, once you get back to the stream. The final thing you notice, is the strange angle at which your leg holds itself. It seems to just hang off, held on only by the flesh and skin.

It is dislocated.

That's really bad.

Looking at this injury reminds you of the others you sustained, and you look down at your ribs. The spot that was once covered in angry red splotches, is now covered in strange black marks. They weave through each other, varying in their thickness. There doesn't seem to really be a beginning, or an end. They just spin around each other, and connect to each other. They really put your mind to tribal tattoos. You switch over to your right leg. Right in the center of your thigh, are more marks. They circle the thigh, and connect on each side, making a circle around your leg. On your shoulder, it is a little different. These marks are dark green, and they seem to be long, thin triangles, pointing down.

Curious, but you're not going to look this gift horse in the mouth. Those injuries would have spelt your inevitable death.

But back to your current injury. Your leg is dislocated at the hip, and you need to set it back into place, if you are going to survive. You know that dislocations usually require someone to hold the limb, and pull, but you could make due with that tree over there. It's short, and small. But, best of all, it bifurcates right at the bottom, providing a niche that you could put your leg in.

You roll onto your stomach, only receiving minor pain from your leg, and begin crawling over to the tree. You army crawl on your belly, making sure to not use your left leg. The process is tortuously slow, but you don't dare rush it. You could strain your leg, and make the injury worse.

About three quarters of the way there, your foot catches on a vine, and before you can stop, it pulls free. You lower your head, and whine in pain, waiting for the agony to cease. Once it does, you continue your journey.

You finally make it to the tree, and roll yourself onto your back, with your feet facing it. You sit up, and manually position the limb into the crux of the tree. Then you lie back, and prepare yourself.

This is going to hurt.

On the count of three.

1...

2...

3!

With a yell of determination, you pull your body back, and wrench your hip into position. The yell quickly becomes a scream of agony. Once you're sure that the ball will go back into the socket, you relax. With a loud POP, your hip shifts back into it's normal placement. You slump down, whimpering at the fire in your bones, but content that you won't have to do that again. You just lie there for a while, breathing hard, and clenching your teeth. Tears stream down your face. You wait for the pain to subside.

You idly look back at the corpse of the ophiotaurus. It's bloated carrion clouded by insects. IDSOTA sticks out, only about a foot, from it's original five feet. That thing is buried in there quite nicely.

it would provide a good source of protine and tools out of bone and fur coat or leather

You would love it, if you could. But that corpse is ruined. There is nothing useable about it, save maybe it's bones, but you'd rather not touch that thing, if you could help it. The bacteria swimming around inside it would kill you, if any of it came even close to your mouth or eyes. It's now that your stomach reminds you of it's emptiness.

That disturbs you, considering what you're looking at.

You should get moving, though. If the sun is to be believed, it's twenty after seven in the morning, and you've been out for at least nineteen hours.

You pull your foot out of the tree, grateful that it had been there, and push yourself to your feet. Your hip screeches with indigence, and you grunt when the pain hits, falling against the tree. You won't be able to walk without assistance for a while, but you don't want to stick around that stinking corpse for much longer. Besides, you need to get back to the creek, and drink something. You reach up to the tree, choose a thick branch, and pull it down. It comes off almost pitifully easily. You pull off all the little twigs, and leave only one split at the top.

You place it down under your left arm, allowing the split to turn the branch into a crutch. Now that you can move, you bend your left knee, and begin on your way. You wish you could take IDSOTA with you, but it's firmly stuck in a body that you refuse to go near. You hobble around the ophiotaurus, finding the remains of its trail, and start following it back to the creek.

It takes nearly twenty minutes at this pace, but you eventually find the stream again.

You let the crutch fall to the side, and drop onto your knees, surprisingly still full of energy. You lean in, and plunge your face into the water, sucking deeply of the fluid. It's still just as cold as the first time, perhaps even colder. The water plays over the cracks in your lips, and wets your scorched throat. You are more grateful for the drink now, than the first time you drank from this river. Once you finish filling your belly with precious water, you are reminded that you have not peed in twenty hours.

You grab your crutch again, and use it to pull yourself to your feet. Once you are standing, you limp into the woods a while. You should never "drain the lizard" next to a clean river, you run the risk of polluting your water source. Now a good distance away, you do your thing. You are taken aback by just how quick it is, when you don't have to undress yourself. The pitiful amount of urine you produce is dark yellow, and stinks with fury. You are glad that you already found a clean water source to use, or you would be in danger of dehydration.

Done with your task, you return to the water side, and think about what to do. Obviously you should look for food, you haven't eaten in twenty hours. But, where should you begin your search?

You stand in front of the creek, the ophiotaurus's tracks erased from the mud, by the moving water. Your stomach rumbles with passion, and your leg hurts too much to stand on it. You have your foot wraps, the stone knife, and your crutch. Behind you lies the ophiotaurus's corpse, and lair. The stream runs downhill to your left, coming from it's source uphill, to your right. In front of you lies unexplored jungle.