Ciresil woke when his head struck the pine duff under the tree he had been hanging in. There was no way his hands could move fast enough to break his fall, even if he had been conscious. They, like his wings had been, were wrapped tightly around his sides.

A throbbing pain lanced from the base of his neck up into the back of his skull. He just lay on the ground, softly groaning. The only thing worse than his morning so far had been his night. He thought he remembered a saying about that, but in his dazed state nothing was popping to mind.

Nothing... except the small icon that had small yellow birds flying in a circle around the silhouette of a head. It took another few minutes for the dazed debuff to wear off. When it did, he found himself sitting against the tree with his knees pulled up against his chest. Wonder how I managed that?

“Okay, note to self, do not fall asleep hanging upside down when the duration of the ability is only two hours.”

Talking to himself had always helped wake him up, and he needed every bit of assistance possible on this occasion. He was going to have to get used to not having his smartphone if he was going to be here a while. He blinked a bit, surprised. Somehow, I am not sure how really, but it feels like I won’t be going home and I am terribly far away. Normally, that would freak me out and turn me into a babbling mess. I should be panicking, but I’m not? Why?

Ciresil closed his eyes again and took in a deep breath, he could put off the cold for a moment to figure this out. Delving into his mind, he didn’t try to remember how he had gotten here, that would lead to the static, he focused on how he felt about being here, in this place. A sudden feeling of warmth and assurance washed over him from head to toe in a wave of nostalgia. Okay… that was really weird, but it gave me a pretty good answer. It somehow “feels” like I am supposed to be here.

Here… in the middle of nowhere. Eyes flickered over the landscape, roving over the small glen he had taken refuge in. It was clear he had actually been lucky for once in the last day. A pocket in the center of the grove of trees was bereft of snow. The tree he was under provided a nice dry spot sheltered with thick boughs from the wind.

Most of the surrounding woods outside of this glade were sparse and held light vegetation, he was obviously still rather high up on the ridge. Rocky ground sloping downhill at an uncomfortable grade stretched out as far as he could make out between the trees. Generally, the terrain curved downward into the valley below. It would be nice if there was someone to explain why I am here though. No greeter it seems, just have to go with it.

Ciresil stood and stretched, time to get going for the day. He still had basic survival to take care of. He found a solid tree branch about the length of his leg. After breaking it off from the trunk by pulling it backwards, he unexpectedly got a notification.

Crude Club

Damage: 1d4 -1 (blunt)

Rarity: Common

Quality: Poor

Effect: -1 to hit

Huh. Well, this isn’t great, but it’s nothing to shake a stick at either. He laughed out loud to himself, he noticed that the noise had caused movement down the mountain. A small finch had been frightened away and out of the underbrush, most likely because of his bad pun.

The sight of the animal caused his stomach to gurgle in anger. There was a conscious side of him that thought it was odd for a moment on how focused he was on finding something to eat all of a sudden, it had only been a day and he was naked. However, there was a newer, raw, primal side of him that flared with the possibility of food. Strangely, or maybe not so, cooking the prey did not cross his mind.

Maybe if I get close enough I can throw the club and get one of those birds? Ciresil placed each step with care. Partially in an attempt to stay silent, but also to save his bare feet from the sharp stones littering the area. Fifteen to twenty yards in front of him a small flock of birds flushed from the trees. It appeared that his talent for stalking was woefully inadequate for this task. What are you doing? Find something to cover yourself with or get off this mountain before you freeze again, preferably both.

Ciresil shook his head a bit to clear it and then started down the slope. After a few minutes of walking, with a hand awkwardly clasped between his legs, he finally found a plant that could help him and not covered in thorns. He never thought a fern would bring a shout of excitement to his lips, but he couldn't hold it in.

“Yes!! Clothing!” He reached down and gripped his hand around a stalk of the largest frond he could find and plucked it. Then something rather unexpected happened, the leaf crumbled apart into unusable pieces.

You have attempted to collect an unknown herb. Without sufficient aptitude for the Herbalism skill, you have failed.

“Huh.”

This left him with some tantalizing questions. Cire figured that the only way to find out if he could gain the skill was to try. Besides, he really wanted something to cover himself with. The cold aside, his lack of dress made him rather uncomfortable, even if there was no one to see him. He lowered himself to the ground in front of the fern and knelt, looking at the plant without really focusing on it.

A rather intense internal monologue had kicked off even as he was dropping to the hard-packed earth. If people back home had to have a skill to perform an action as mundane as picking a plant with any degree of success, then the way everything functioned in daily life would be drastically different. Sure, back home people specialized in a specific job, but it seemed that here in his new world that it was someone's skills, or perhaps someone's aptitude for a skill, that defined their role in the world.

On one hand everything had just gotten far more complex and on the other a lot more simple. Cire needed to figure out what he was good at and progress. That would be his best path for survival. He would also need to find workarounds for skills he either did not possess or could not acquire.

Refocusing on the world around him brought at long last another small respite to his lackluster first day. The large fern in front of him pulsed with light in a shimmering opal iridescence. He reached out tentatively, almost afraid the light would flicker out. When he touched at a particular spot on the stem it felt right. Plucking the frond this time brought a satisfying snap.

Braken Fern

Rarity: Common

Uses:

1. Young fronds of this plant can be eaten.

2. Leaves of this plant have various decorative functions.

You have gained a new skill: Herbalism (common)

“That which is grows, while that which is not becomes.” - Galen

At initiate rank you will be able to identify and collect common plants and potentially uncommon ones, modified by your skill level.

Scouring the plant revealed no young fronds to be eaten. That seemed right for the altitude and the season. Given that the sun was a couple of hours past its zenith and there was a bitter bite to the air, he guessed that it was the tail end of winter, or the start. I hope it isn’t the start, it’s already too cold.

Hours of gathering later and he was finally outfitted like a Lost Boy straight out of Peter Pan. True, he had pointy ears and was a bit too pale, but he was just as dirty as one to be sure. He finally had some cover against the wind, it felt good. He stretched and shifted a bit to make sure everything would stay on in place.

As night approached, Cire hurriedly built a shelter against a fallen tree. He laid sticks against the trunk, creating a small lean-to shelter. Stuffing it with dried pine needles for insulation took the majority of his time. He had basically made himself his very own mammal den. Are vampires still mammals? I get cold. Hell, I can obviously die by freezing. It stands to reason that I’m still 'alive' enough that it doesn’t matter.

He crawled into the prickly pile of pine duff and bedded down. Inane and mundane thoughts drifted through his head in a tumble of confusion as the night air grew frigid. Exhaustion finally overtook him.

Battering his ears, a shrill scream shattered the calm of his dreams. Heart beats thudded in his ears as he instinctively sat upright, slamming his forehead into the top of his shelter, violently knocking loose wood. Crashing sounds echoed off the trees. Twigs snapped under combat’s frenetic pacing. What the hell is happening?

Darkness pooled around him in the moonless night. His gaze swept along the small glen he had taken refuge in. He focused harder, looking between the gaps in the sparse stand of trees. Something was out there, he needed to see it. Similar to his experience activating echolocation, suddenly a flood of objects leaped to life before him.

You have Darkvision! At your current level, Darkvision will allow you to see up to 100 feet in complete darkness. Warning! If exposed to bright light while using Darkvision you can suffer various debuffs including blinding, stun, and disorientation.

It would have been breathtaking, if his breath had not caught for another reason. Some sort of giant boar at the far end of the glade was tumbling and bucking against a ball of growling fur. Squeals, what he thought had been screaming, were being ripped from the pig's throat like candy from a piñata.

Huge cat jaws were clamped down on the underside of the swine's neck. Trickles of blood coursed down through its bristled hide. Cire stood in shock, watching the two beasts writhe on the ground.

Wafting over from the fight, the scent of blood snapped him out of his reverie. It smelled heady, rich, and intoxicating. Waves of emotion cascaded through Cire, rage, exhaustion, and most of all THIRST!

Cire lunged towards the two animals. His leap carried him into the giant feline, knocking it away from the swine. It was stronger than he was, but the feline was distracted in a death bite. They tumbled and landed hard on the ground, a mess of limbs and fur. Rolling on top of the cat, he shoved his face into its scruff and bit down into its neck as hard as he could.

The taste of hot, coppery fluid and the sensation of warmth sliding down his throat was revolting. However, the exhaustion, hunger, and pain he was suffering from fled his body at the same time. Disgust was replaced by a wave of euphoria washing over every part of his body.

I am strong! I will NOT be prey! I will hunt down and slay every last thing in these woods! I cannot be stopped!!

Clouding his thoughts, the consequences of feeding for the first time enthralled Cire. He was so deeply entranced that the claws leaving rents along his back never penetrated his conscious mind. He collapsed to the ground in a heap, the body of the mountain lion twitching on his chest. Thankfully, he lost consciousness again.

Upon coming to moments later, he groggily took stock of his situation. Then began the inelegant process of wiggling himself free from the heavy corpse of the lion. There were a few notifications, but he minimized them quickly. Up on his knees, he could finally fill his lungs with precious air. His head stopped swimming enough for him to make out the gurgled wheezing coming from the pig nearby.

Pain surged up along his back and he groaned, he wasn’t in good shape. Half stepping and half crawling his way to the wounded boar he paused at its mangled head. Pulses of thick blood pooled around the animals open mouth as it lay on its side. The sensation of the sticky blood already coating Ciresil’s chest, hands, and worst of all his mouth was more than he could stomach at this sight.

Ciresil heaved roughly, sending several large globs of cat blood spattering to the ground. The movements brought more pain and he collapsed next to the dying boar. Sobbing, he curled into a ball and pitied himself. He was naked again, covered in blood, nauseous, hungry, and cold. I am fed up with this! Screw this place!

Sobs quieted as Ciresil wiped his nose and snorted. Shaking his head to himself. No one else is here to help, get your act together. Ciresil steeled himself against his self-doubt and sat up. He had been through far more adversity in his life than this. The solution was to push forward. Sure, he had not been through this kind of physical pain, but by the time he was twenty-three he was all that remained of his family.

Ciresil would face this next series of challenges in his life in the same manner as previous. He would accept the pain, the loss, and the hardship, but he would come out the other side stronger and more prepared for the world. Most importantly, he would not sacrifice his morals to do it.

Squirming movement from the boar drew his eyes. He couldn’t let it suffer, but he also felt wrong ending a helpless creature's life. Forcing himself to do what was needed, he leaned down and sank his fangs into the bristled greasy skin of the swine.

Drawing the last remnants of life from the mammal’s veins felt more natural, even with a clear head, than it should have. Focusing on the sensation of drawing the blood in was remarkably easy when he was not being thrashed about. Therefore, he was ready when the wave of euphoria crashed against him this time, and he pushed it down.

No way I am becoming a junkie. I will define my abilities, not the other way around. Ciresil’s mother had abused a variety of drugs before he had moved out of the house, he wouldn't end up like her. A cold rage swept through him from his core outwards, it tempered the almost sweet-tasting pleasure rushing through him with a hard bitterness.

It was a struggle, but the blood ecstasy waned and skirted to the edge of his senses. He drank deep and pulled in every drop the boar had left, he still needed what this animal could provide. Wounds knitted together along his back, skin healed over, and a raw tingling spread across each wound. All of this coalesced into an almost unbearable itching before mercifully dissipating.

With a very uncultured burp, he leaned back against the nearest pine amongst the remains. He focused on the blinking notifications that had appeared during his last travail and got some much needed information.

Mountain Lion—Level 3 has died. You receive 391 experience points.

Dire Boar—Level 1 has died. You receive 165 experience points.

You have performed your special attack: Bite. You can savagely pierce your enemy’s flesh with sharp fangs to drain their health and experience. HP drain is currently 100 per minute and experience drain is 1% if the target is killed by this action. Warning! This ability renders you helpless while performing its actions. Warning! This ability is synergistic with Regeneration and will boost it by 1 ability level. While feeding you will regain 3 hp per minute.

You have been awarded 92 experience from Bite against Level 3 Mountain Lion.

You have been awarded 8 experience from Bite against Level 1 Dire Boar.

You have gained your first Aspect! You are Indefatigable! Your recent actions have defined a core element of your personality. You have chosen to persevere tirelessly.

Effects: Once per week you can refresh daily abilities as if rested, -33% to rest and food requirements.

You have gained a new skill: Martial Combat (Rare)

“Only the dead have seen the end of war.” - Plato

At initiate rank, you no longer suffer a hit penalty for fighting unarmed. +5% chance to dodge when unarmored.

Ciresil practically burst with happiness at the positive news and his renewed prospects at actually surviving this frigid hellscape. If I don't bite off more than I can chew, then I shouldn't die frozen as a naked piece of statuary on a snow-covered mountainside, again.

Bite's bonus to his experience, if he could take down his kills safely, and more importantly alone, could be the most significant revelation. However, seeing an ally latch onto the throat of an enemy and drain them like a juice box would probably cause concern, at the very least. It wouldn't happen all the time, but if he could snack on the strength of a much higher level enemy it could be a catalyst for rapid advancement. Now that his wounds had closed, his reckless feeding on the mountain lion had been all but forgotten.

What Ciresil did not know, what he could not possibly have known given his mental state at the time, was how close he had come to death under the slashing claws of his feline foe. He had been regenerating at the significant rate of 3 hp per minute while drawing blood from the cat, but the mountain lion had fought hard. Ciresil’s feeding had been resisted several times, thereby negating regeneration for those precious moments.

While fighting, each set of claws had scored deep grooves along the vampire's back, shredding his muscles and nicking several bones. His almost helpless state resulted in both blows being critical strikes. Ciresil’s health had plummeted towards the end, one more errant swipe would have sent him back to the snow drifts and howling gales.