Journal Entry #1 - A Stranger In A Strange Land
He did not know how this world came to be or how he arrived in it, but his first memory was of a bright sun rising in the east. By reckless haste did he get here perhaps for he had come poorly prepared. He found in his possession no belongings to speak of save a pair of worn trousers and the shirt on his back.
Looking around he found himself standing in a swamp which was populated by gnarled trees with vines hanging from their branches. He spotted several ponds nearby, some of which had sugar canes growing at their banks. Subtle movement in the distance drew his eyes to the white form of a sheep grazing among patches of tall grass.
His stomach rumbled and it occurred to him that he ought to find something to eat soon. Glancing back at the sky he saw the sun rising rapidly towards its zenith and the day had already brightened into mid-morning. Time was passing and there was a sense of urgency. His instincts told him there was much to be done before nightfall. He needed to find food and shelter, and in that order.
Moving quickly now from pond to pond he gathered the sugar canes and began to extract their precious sugar. It was hard work and took time, but the sugar would stave off hunger and keep him from growing weak. Next he broke a sturdy branch from one of the trees to use as a simple tool and hunting weapon. He paused for a moment to rest and eat a bit of the sugar, then set off to see what else he could find in this new world.
It was just after noon when he discovered a patch of mushrooms growing in the shade of a large tree. The mushrooms were red and their caps spotted white. They didn't look very tasty but he pocketed them anyway. He had an idea that everything he found in this place would be useful in some way.
Just then he saw a small group of sheep not far away, grazing on grass in the same manner as the one he had seen earlier. He tightened his grip on the branch he carried and approached the closest of the animals. After a moment's hesitation he struck it down with several blows. The other sheep ran wildly from the clearing, their loud bleatings fading into the distance. From the fallen sheep he gathered meat, wool and leather. These things he would find useful indeed.
Rising from his looted prey he cast about the clearing and noticed with a start that the daylight was beginning to fade. His stomach tightened and he felt a sense of dread at the gathering twilight. Night was fast approaching and he hadn't yet built a shelter. He needed materials for that. In a panic now he ran to a shallow pond and began digging up the sand that formed its bank. Frantically he worked as the shadows deepened and darkness fell. Only as the sun disappeared below the horizon had he gathered enough sand for his shelter.
A rasping breath came from behind and he turned to see a figure shambling toward him in the pale moonlight. It was a zombie, a once-living human who still lingered on in a state of undeath and who sought only to feast upon the flesh of living beings. Peering further into the swamp he saw several other dark figures moving among the shadowed trees.
He hurried back into the small clearing, distancing himself from the trees whose low branches might give creatures access into his shelter. He piled the sand up at his feet, walling himself in from the outside world. He was tired and ravenous now after all that work and took a moment to eat a few handfuls of sugar. Through the opening of his roofless shelter he saw the stars marching their way westward. Far off in the distance he heard the cries of panicked sheep. Most likely the zombies were after them now that he was out of reach.
He realized there would be little sleep for him tonight. He still had a collection of sugar canes which he brought out now and set to work on, preparing more sugar for the day to come. But he was soon interrupted by a series of creaking and scuttling sounds that came from just beyond his shelter, and they were soon followed by a hiss. The glowing red eyes and terrifying shape of a giant spider appeared at the top of the wall and he dropped his sugar canes and struck at it repeatedly with the stout branch. Again and again the spider tried to squeeze into his shelter but it wasn't able to fit through the opening. A lucky blow to a weak spot cracked the spider's carapace and it fell to the ground outside with a thud.
His victory over the spider instilled in him a sense of confidence, and he even felt eager to meet his next attacker. He waited, listening to the night but all was silent now. The moon was high above and shone its eerie light down on him. He gathered up the scattered sugar canes and finished working on them as the moon made its descent and the sky to the east filled with a reddish light, heralding the dawn of a new day.
Journal Entry #2 - The Witch's Hut
He dug his way out of the crude shelter and stood once more in the early morning light of the swamp. With the coming of dawn the creatures of the night had retreated to places unseen and all seemed relatively safe now. Already he knew that today would be another day of exploration and gathering. He knelt and examined the carcass of the spider he had slain and took from it a length of string made of strong silk, as well as one of the spider's eyes, which no longer glowed.
With that business finished he glanced about the clearing and considered his two options briefly; he could stay close to his shelter and gather what resources he could from the surrounding area or he could abandon it and go searching afar. He quickly decided on the latter, as he was anxious to explore the world and loathe to spend another sleepless night in the "pillbox", as he had come to call it. But just in case he needed to return he checked the position of the sun and set off in a straight line to the west.
He spent the entire morning making his way ever-westward, happening upon more ponds and sugar canes, which he dutifully harvested. He even found a few sticks here and there, lying on the ground near trunks of trees. It was near noon when his path crossed with a particularly large pond which caught his attention, not because of its size but because of what he saw beneath its shallow waters. He waded into the pond and discovered a sizeable patch of greyish-colored clay. He paused for a moment, thinking of what he might do with the clay to make it worth his effort collecting. He could form it into something, why not make an oven to cook the lambchops he had taken from the sheep yesterday? Satisfied with this notion he set about gathering the clay, sometimes clawing at it with the stick and othertimes scooping it up with his bare hands. It was laborious work, for the clay was a couple feet below the surface of the pond and it yielded slowly to his inefficient methods. If only he had a shovel to make the work go faster, he thought. After about an hour's worth of toil he had collected a good amount of it - enough to make a small oven he figured.
Just then, some distance to the south (as he deduced by the motion of the sun) came a cackling sound that made the hair on the back of his neck stand. He stood motionless in the pond, water up to his knees, listening intently for confirmation. Again he heard a similar cackling sound. Could there be another living person here and if so might they have food, shelter, and other resources? He knew he had to investigate and waded out of the pond, moving carefully now to the south.
It wasn't long before he spotted the wooden hut nestled among a handful of gnarled oaks. It stood on four stout log posts and its floor, walls, and roof were fashioned from rough-cut planks. Through a window he saw a figure moving around inside the single-room dwelling. There was a bit of smoke rising above the hut and as he crept closer he heard a faint bubbling sound. His eyes returned to the figure, which he could now see was an old crone, and as he watched she lifted her head and turned to look directly at him. With a shrill cackle she moved to the door of her hut and dropped to the ground below. Instinctively he knew that he should run and he bolted from his vantage point. A moment later the sound of breaking glass filled his ears - the witch had hurled a potion at him and it had broken upon the ground ten paces to his left, just close enough for him to get a whiff of its acrid contents but not close enough to cause him serious harm. The witch continued to cackle as she pursued him through the swamp. She was relentless, and many times he stumbled on patches of soft ground and thought he would be caught. As he ran he noticed the terrain was beginning to change, rising slightly until he found himself climbing the bank of a low-peaked hill.
Exhausted now, he stopped and turned to look for signs of his pursuer. For a few moments he saw nothing but then he spotted her through a tangle of vine-covered branches. She was a good distance away and wasn't looking in his direction. Satisfied that she had lost his trail he slumped down on the grassy hillside and caught his breath. He was in a different area now, still in the swamp but on a knoll from which he could see a great deal of the surrounding lands. To the east, the direction from which he had come, he saw forested swampland as far as his eyes could see. To the south lay an open body of water, perhaps a large lake or even the sea. To the north lay a mixture of swampland and many small lakes. He shuddered at the thought of being down in the swamps this evening. Turning now to the west he saw that the land fell away briefly but rose again and through the haze he could just make out the shapes of distant mountains. He rose to his feet and set off down the west bank of the hillock at a brisk pace, eager to put even more distance between himself and the witch.
The sun was beginning its descent by the time he reached the base of the hillock, and he came out onto a flat area with a thin scattering of trees. Continuing in the direction of the setting sun he noted a number of orange shapes to the north and took a brief detour to investigate. To his surprise he discovered it was a well-established patch of pumpkins, which had apparently been growing here wildly for there was no indication of a garden. His supply of sugar wasn't close to running out yet but he decided it would be wise to harvest some of the pumpkins for their edible seeds.
Already light was fading and it was time again to look for shelter. Fortunately, not far from the pumpkin patch there was a rise in the ground with a naturally formed cave beneath. The cave was shallow but deep enough to provide a suitable place to spend the night. He also found a pile of gravel on the floor of the cave which he dug up and used to block the entrance. While doing this he uncovered a large piece of flint which, with a bit of work, looked like it might be fashioned into a small axehead. He had purposely left a small gap at the top of the entrance and through it he could already hear the sounds of foul creatures moving in the night. He brought out his clay and as he began forming into a small oven he fancied that he could hear the rattling of bones from somewhere outside. The spiders were back too with their creaks and hissings. They seemed to have a sixth sense for finding him but the gap he had left was too small for them to fit through.
Inside the oven he placed a couple of sticks and the raw lambchop. The walls of the cave lit up comfortingly as he lit the fire and the lambchop sizzled tantalizingly as it began to cook. Soon enough, the lambchop was cooked and eaten. He could not recall ever feeling so satisfied as he did this very moment, but there was still work to be done before he could rest. He took out a couple more sticks and got to work on combining them with the piece of flint to make a small hatchet. After some time he finished working on the new tool and hefted it, taking a few practice swings in the air. It was a crude piece of work, but looked like it might be able to cut a bit of wood before falling apart. He lay down on the cold cave floor and began to think of the things he might make with planks of wood. A shovel, a bed (he still had wool from the sheep to make a blanket with), maybe even a hut or cabin similar to the one the witch in the swamp had.
Tomorrow he would get wood.
Journal Entry #3 - To The Mountains
At the cave entrance he saw daylight. The night had passed quickly; his craftings must have taken longer than he realized and he might have even dozed a bit for he was in terrible need of a decent sleep. Survival itself wasn't going to be enough, he thought as he began to dig through the pile of gravel at the cave's entrance. He would strive for more than that. Just then he saw a small object glittered in the gravel and he carefully plucked it out from the stones and grit. It was a copper nugget. There seems to be valuable things hidden in gravel, he mused as he placed it in his pocket. He finished digging through the rest of the gravel and stepped out of the cave.
Too late did he realize his mistake - a menacing hiss from above was all he heard before being pounced upon. A large spider had lain in ambush above the entrance of his cave, waiting for him to emerge. The weight of the impact made him stumble backwards, and he felt a sharp sting as the spider sunk its sharp fangs into his right leg. The creature leapt at him again but he moved to the side, dodging its attack. He wielded his branch and stuck at the head of the spider as it leapt at him a third time. He must have landed a telling blow for the spider halted its approach and immediately took on a less threatening demeanor. He was angry and considered pressing an attack but decided it wasn't worth the risk. The spider had already turned away and was looking elsewhere now, it seemed to have forgotten him completely.
He lowered his branch and examined the two small punctures in his leg. They were small wounds and weren't bleeding badly. If the spider's bite had been poisonous he was sure he'd be in more pain than he was. He looked back at the spider, which had scuttled off into the shade of some trees. Not trusting the fickle beast, he walked to the opposite side of the clearing and remembered his plan to gather wood this day. He brought out his makeshift hatchet and approached a nearby tree. It was a short oak, perhaps ten feet tall, with a solid trunk and thick folliage. It would do. He began chopping at the trunk and with satisfaction saw the dense wood giving way to the flint's sharpened edge. He managed to fell the tree and chop its trunk into three sections before the hatchet broke apart in his hands, the small flint axehead now cracked and ruined. He gathered many of the tree's branches and from the log sections he fashioned a dozen planks.
From four of the planks he crafted a workbench. This was the most sensible thing to do he decided, because it would enable him to build other things, things that would be impossible to make without a flat surface to work on. He was tired of digging with his hands, so next he made a wooden shovel from two sticks and a plank. He was also in dire need of a good sleep, so he crafted a bed and blanket for himself from three planks and the sheep's wool he'd been carrying. "Now I'm getting somewhere!" he declared to himself. Things were going well.
It was noon time and he was famished, so he refreshed himself with a handful of pumpkin seeds and a bit of sugar. It wasn't much of a meal he decided, certainly not as satisfying as the mutton he'd had for supper last night. Perhaps he'd find more sheep in the mountains. Whatever the case, it was time to move on so he packed up his workbench and headed west once more.
The weather was clear and pleasant, and the land beneath his feet began to rise again as he drew nearer to the mountains. He liked this area more than the swamp - for one thing he could see much further. Already he saw interesting features on the sides of the mountains; overhangs and bluffs, and a good number of shadowy caves. There would be many places to find shelter provided he could climb to them. His journey progressed uneventfully and by late afternoon he arrived at the foot of the mountains. The air was fresher here, and cooler too. A lake lay below the cliffs and its waters glittered in the afternoon sunlight. He fancied resting a bit on the shore and made his way to the water's edge.
He was about to sit down and rest his weary legs when he noticed dark shapes in the water, some of them floating stationary and others flitting to and fro. They were fish, and many of them large enough to make a good meal of, he noted with growing interest. A thought occurred to him and he hastily set up his workbench right there on the shore. He placed three sticks on the workbench and spliced them together into a single long pole, at the end of which he tied a long length of spider silk. He then brought out his copper nugget and fashioned it into a hook, which he then tied to the line along with a small sphere of wood to serve as a float. He picked up the fishing rod and cast the line away from the shore and into the lake where the water was deep. Watching the bobber intently, he waited for a bite. A long period of time passed but no bite came and the shimmering light on the water began to baffle his eyes. He looked away for a moment and saw that the sky was beginning to darken, not yet from the approach of evening but from the gathering of storm clouds. A few minutes later it began to rain.
Just then the bobber dipped below the surface with a splash and he yanked the fishing rod upwards and drew in the line. It was a lovely fish indeed and he was so thrilled with his success that he cast his line out again, even though the rain was falling harder now and he was getting soaked. After only a couple of minutes the bobber sank again and he pulled in another fish similar to the first. The fish were biting now, perhaps due to the rain or the time of day. Whatever the reason he wanted to take full advantage of it so he cast the line out again and again, catching several more fish. He was so focused on his activity that he didn't notice that evening had come.
There was a brilliant flash of light and a loud crack split the air as lightening struck a high place on the mountain behind him. He turned and realized that he was in trouble. It was dark now and he saw a number of familiar shapes on the slope, some of them heading in his direction. Without pausing to grab his workbench he began running up the slope toward them. His only hope was to hole up in one of the many caves in the mountains. He ran past the zombies and further up the slope. He was nearly out of breath when he reached the foot of the mountain. A sheer cliff stood before him and he had no chance of climbing it. He cast about, looking for someplace to take cover. To his right he saw a tree with low branches growing against the side of the cliff and he sprinted toward it, perhaps he'd be able to evade his attackers by climbing it.
The zombies were closing in on his position but they weren't the only ones. A loud twang sounded as an arrow thudded into the trunk of the tree. He peered over his shoulder into the darkness and saw the silhouette of a skeleton that was carrying a bow. It already had a second arrow notched. There were glowing red eyes on the slope now too, but he paid them no heed and turned his attention back to the tree. There was a spot behind the tree that was darker than its surroundings - a concealed cave entrance! Desperate now, he pushed his way through the branches and dropped into the opening. Indeed it was a cave and he quickly barricaded the entrance with a pile of gravel. He breathed a heavy sigh of relief. That had been a close call. He would need to be more careful in the future. Night fell quickly in these lands.
He inspected the cave and found it much to his satisfaction. It didn't lead very far into the mountain, but there was enough room for him to set up his clay oven and bed. He placed his oven against a wall and put four sticks in it and a couple of fish. As they cooked he set his bed up in the deepest corner of the cave. It was storming fiercely outside and flashes of light occasionally came through the small opening at the entrance. He returned to the oven and feasted upon one of the cooked fish, which he found to be every bit as good as the mutton had been.
He was much too tired now to form a plan of what he would do tomorrow. He'd figure something out in the morning. Wearily, he placed his wet clothes near the still-warm oven to dry and collapsed onto the bed. He soon fell asleep.
Journal Entry #4 - Toils & Troubles
He awoke in his bed with a yawn and a stretch. The storm had abated sometime during the night, and the chamber was faintly illuminated by the rays of an orange sunrise streaming in through the small opening in the far wall. Though the bed was a rough piece of carpentry, it had provided him with a restful sleep and he felt his strength renewed. He got up and stood at the side of the bed, examining the wounds on his leg where the spider had bitten him the day before. Somewhat surprisingly, they had healed over completely, leaving only tiny scars where each fang had entered. "Well, that's the worst of my problems solved," he thought, and he found himself beginning to feel at home in this strange land. Perhaps he had a bright future ahead of him here. He strode to the clay oven and collected his clothes.
For breakfast he devoured the extra fish he had cooked the night before, pleased with himself for having had the forsight to do so. With breakfast out of the way he would be able to get an early start on the day. Vibrant orange sunlight flooded into the cave as he removed the gravel barricade. Recalling the mistake he had made yesterday, he cautiously moved forward through the low branches, looking around to see if any creatures lay in wait for him. He saw no spiders or otherwise and relaxed, taking a moment to admire the sunrise. He still hadn't formed a plan of how he'd spend the day, so he began to walk down the slope toward the lake with the idea that he'd try a bit of fishing first.
Halfway down the slope he came across some bones, a bow, and a couple of flint arrows - the remains of the skeleton he'd seen the night before. The bones were charred and still smoldering; it looked as though the skeleton had been caught in the sunlight and had burned up. He noted this with interest, then knelt and picked up the bow. It wasn't in very good condition but still serviceable, so he slung it over his shoulder and continued his way down to the sandy shore of the lake below. The workbench was still there, as he had left it. He thought about hauling it up to the cave but then decided against it. He might as well leave it here for now, closer to the swamp where wood was more plentiful. He took out his fishing rod and cast the line into the lake.
The early morning passed swiftly and he caught a couple of fish before they seemed to stop biting. He surmised that the fish were more active at certain times of the day than others and put away his fishing rod. He turned around just in time to see the creeper that had snuck up from behind. It was a tall, pillar-shaped creature covered with mottled green skin. Even as he watched, the creeper began to grow in size and produce a hissing sound like that of a burning fuse. He backed away and fell backwards into the water with a splash as the creeper exploded. It was a fortunate thing, for the shallow water protected him from the worst of the blast. The explosion produced a loud bang that echoed back from the mountains several times, and it also left a sizeable crater on the beach. Much of the packed sand had been upheaved and thrown into piles which he now took the opportunity to collect. How many more kinds of these creatures would he discover in this place, he wondered. And how much longer would his luck hold out.
He felt exposed now standing on the beach, and decided it was time to head back up the slope and start exploring the mountains. He retraced his steps to the cave entrance then worked his way to the southwest, keeping near to the face of the cliff.
It was almost noon when he discovered a large overhang feature, beneath which he saw a huge pile of gravel. He decided to stop here and dig through some of the gravel to see if he might find more pieces of flint or copper nuggets. He took out his shovel and spent the entire afternoon sifting through the gravel and it was well worth the effort for he unearthed several pieces of flint and many copper nuggets, as well as a few nuggets of silver. He would have kept at it for longer but the wooden shovel finally gave out and broke in his hands. He was tired now too, and it was probably best to get back to the cave and prepare some supper anyway - sunset wasn't too far off. He took one last look to the southwest, however, and something there caught his eye. Further along the mountainside was a patch of slightly different colored rock - it was darker than the rest. He decided to investigate.
It was a vein of black coal, exposed on the face of the cliff, and low enough to be accessible without climbing. Coal would be worth having, he knew, because it burned hot. He might use it for cooking or even to smelt ores, if ever he should find any in the mountains (he already suspected he might). He had no way of liberating the coal from the rock however and left it where it was. He needed a pickaxe, he thought. Perhaps if he gathered enough copper nuggets he might be able to craft one.
As he made his way back to the cave he worked out a plan of what he'd do tomorrow. He needed more wood for one thing and that meant taking a trip back into the swamp. By the time he got to his cave the moon was cresting the horizon and the first few stars where coming out. He crept through the opening and stopped it once more with gravel. Then he cooked up the rest of his fish, of which he had six, and ate one for supper before falling asleep.
Journal Entry #5 - Ramping Up
He nearly jumped out of bed that morning, so eager he was to head down to the lake and get things started. His mind must have had further developed his plans while he slept, for he felt very ambitious upon waking. Not willing to stop for breakfast, he grabbed a cooked fish on the way out and munched on it as he made his way to the shore where his workbench stood. He knew he wanted more metal - with it he'd be able to make more tools, better tools that would last longer and increase his productivity. But he'd need to get more wood first, and that meant he needed another axe. He set three pieces of flint on the workbench and combined them with two sticks to make an axe. It was a larger version of the hatchet he had previously made. He picked it up and feeling its weight he knew it would be more effective at felling trees.
He left the shore and entered the edge of the swamp where there was a stand of vine-covered oaks. The flint axe chewed through their trunks easily and he felled three of them before the sun had even risen halfway up the sky. Quickly now, he gathered up the logs and sticks and returned to the workbench. He formed a number of planks from the logs and with these he made three wooden shovels. This time he was going to head into the mountains better prepared.
He paused briefly and snacked on some sugar to keep his strength up. Then he packed up his workbench, figuring he might need it again that day, and headed up the slope. Making his way along the cliff face to the southwest, he returning to the large pile of gravel he had found the day before. He finished digging through it, uncovering a few more precious copper nuggets. He needed to find more gravel now so he stepped out from beneath the overhang and held his hand to his brow, shading his eyes from the bright noon sun as he scanned the face of the cliff. Sure enough, he spotted another patch of gravel about halfway up. He'd need to do a bit of climbing to get to it, but the ascent didn't look too treacherous.
After a short climb he pulled himself onto a ledge from which he could reach the gravel. He stopped for a moment to catch his breath. The climb hadn't been terribly difficult but he had still found it tiring. He brought out a shovel and began to dig. Not long into the work a large section of gravel fell inwards at one of his strokes and revealed a dark chamber beyond. He continued digging and made a wide enough opening for him to crawl through. There was only enough light to see a short way into the cave, but what he saw set his heart racing. There, glittering on the stone wall of the cave, was a long vein of copper ore. He stopped for a moment, running his hand over the rough mixture of metal and rock. There was a lot of copper here, much more than all of the nuggets he had gathered so far. He still didn't have a pickaxe though, so he continued looking around the cave and saw that it lead deeper into the mountain. There were also more piles of gravel here, but the darkness of the cave was beginning to make him feel uncomfortable and he clambered back out.
He realized he needed a source of light and he pondered his inventory for a few moments. Gradually, an idea formed in his head. He took out the sand he had gathered from the creeper explosion and began to compress it into smaller, harder pieces of sandstone. Next he set up his workbench and on it crafted nine blocks of sandstone into a sandstone oven. It was much larger than his clay oven, and into it he placed a solid section of log and a couple of dry sticks which quickly caught fire. He let the log burn for a while then took out his sheep leather and used it to cover the oven's openings, starving the fire inside of air and smothering it. After allowing things to cool down for a bit, he reached into the oven and pulled out what remained of the log. It had been transformed into a chunk of charcoal. This he split into four pieces and attached to sticks, making four torches.
He re-entered the cave and stuck one of the torches into a crack in the wall. He then lit the torch, illuminating the cave's interior. The ore vein glittered richly in the flickering yellow light. For the next few hours he sifted through the piles of gravel, his pockets growing heavier and heavier with each nugget he found. From time to time he glanced out the entrance to check the progress of the sun in the sky and when early evening came he decided to call it a day and headed back to his cave.
It wasn't until he had returned to the safety of his hideout that he took stock of his inventory and counted the nuggets he had gathered so far. He tallied thirty-one nuggets of copper and a dozen silver. There were also five nuggets of gold and many pieces of flint. He was very pleased with himself, for it was clear that he had collected enough copper to build a pickaxe with. That would have to wait until tomorrow, however - he had left his workbench on the ledge in the mountains.
He ate a supper of fish and settled into bed. He fell asleep and dreamt of being lost in a vast network of caves. He was wielding a pickaxe and the cavern walls were laced with all manner of metal ores, some wonderously exotic and precious. If only he could find his way back to the surface...
Stay tuned for future journal entries.