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Side-Write: Into the Savage Lands
🕑 Added 2024-06-01 03:50:52 +0000 UTCAfter the last one felt like a pretty solid success, but rather too long, I challenged myself to write a story that is still fairly happy... and more reasonable in length. I think I managed a moderate success in both respects here? I agonized some over what topic to cover and finally decided something in an unusual format might go a little easier for me.
As always, this isn't officially part of the lore or anything, just experimenting with what might be going on in the world of Project Wild One! Nonetheless, I hope you find it a fun and interesting read!
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Unumber 28, 331
Today I begin my third and hopefully final journal chronicling my journey into the savage lands. The first two were lost, along with all of my supplies and servants, in disasters I will not recount at this time. I began this trek on the first of Undecimber, and I think I can safely say this has been the longest three months of my life so far. I have learned much, albeit at great cost.
I have found work in this final city, the outermost bastion of civilization, and I must prepare swiftly, that I may delve as deeply as I can into the wilds before I am forced to return home by the onset of winter. My original schedule is beyond salvaging, and I now hope only to discover as much as I can in the time I have left.
Unumber 31
The steelworks here are primitive, but I have proven myself valuable both as a worker and as a consultant. I have penned a short manuscript outlining improvements they can make over the next year to increase their production threefold while improving the quality of the output and lowering costs. This alone should rightly earn me enough wealth to live comfortably the rest of my life, but the owner is an ungrateful fool and paid me only a pittance.
Still, it is more than enough for my needs. I have come to accept that bringing too many supplies with me will only make life in the wilds harder, and so I must worry less about material preparation and more about preparing myself. In the wilds, the only things the wild ones cannot take from me are my body and my mind, so these are the tools I must hone to fulfill all of my needs.
Duober 3, 331
I am still not sure if I can ever truly be prepared for this journey, but I have decided I shall set out in the morning. I have studied with every expert I could find to try and fill the many gaps in my expertise. I now have a rough familiarity with how to forage for food and medicine, how to find or construct shelters, how to defend myself from a wide variety of creatures, and many more things besides.
I have adopted the garb and gear of the wanderer: a loose assembly of bags and fabric notable for being very easy to throw off at an instant's notice. All of my food and anything that might smell edible is kept in one bag, while the rest of my supplies are kept in another, in hopes they will not be savaged by any creatures while they are separated from me. I will be traveling light, with barely more than a good knife, some rope, and various containers. Everything else, I will scavenge from the land. I must have faith that this will be enough.
Duober 4
I've made good time, I think. Leaving the city, I was struck by how much I have already changed. My friends might not even recognize me if they saw me. I have replaced most of my fat with muscle. I have learned to use my nose, to pick out every sound around me. I have learned how to kill a man with my claws alone. I have tasted the lifeblood of monsters, felt it gush around my teeth. Where I used to complain of sore feet after walking for an hour, I now walk all day and assemble a shelter at the end. I have known hardship and pain, and still I feel as though I have not yet begun to face the true challenge of this endeavor. I only feel that I may finally be worthy to walk the path I have set out for myself.
Duober 5
Relatively quiet so far. Encountered a few wanderers from the city, sighted a monster or two, found some strange tracks. I do miss the city a little, even as strange as this one was. Creatures walked the streets among the people, and few seemed to care. I offered a strange, reptilian quadruped money if it would let me study it, but it seemed to take this as an insult and refused me. Just as well. Wild specimens should be much more informative.
Still, I miss talking to others. Their accents were strange as well, and their jokes quite crude, but they were a merry people. I'd sorely needed the company after the hardship and solitude I'd faced between cities. Now, there are few to talk to, and there will be fewer still as I descend into the heart of the wilds. I must gather up my heart's desires and bundle them tightly inside me against the hardship to come.
Duober 6
Found the beast that left the tracks! Notes and sketches taken. I happened upon a fresh trail and followed it to a watering hole, where I convinced it I was interested in being intimate so it didn't try to kill me. I managed to satisfy it once with my hands, but it wanted more. It very nearly managed to get inside me before I struck it an ungentlemanly blow. I escaped while it was reeling. I have long since resigned myself to the fact that I must employ every tactic available to me to survive and succeed in this savage place.
Overall, I call it a successful encounter, even if I am left somewhat sore. Certainly much better than just about any of my attempts in the first month of my journey, and those were with creatures much less dangerous than this.
Duober 7
Tired. I'm finally clear of the beast's territory, but I had to push hard. I hope I am in a neutral zone between major threats tonight.
Duober 9
Died yesterday. Poor luck with a rather strange dragon that is not interested in my seductive talents. Of all things, it is capable of spraying an incredibly powerful acid from its mouth. I lost my clothes and food, but managed to throw my equipment clear. I've been keeping careful track of my location and all major landmarks, so it didn't take too long to recover the remains of my belongings. This, too, has been a hard-earned but invaluable lesson. I shall have to move carefully to avoid any further encounters with the local, scaled despot.
Duober 11
Died again. I could not even appease the dragon by offering myself as food. This is a very unusual specimen, but I think I may be the wrong man to study it, given it seems to have taken an especial disliking to my continued existence. I'll be taking a large detour to try and avoid its territory. Frustrated, hungry, tired. Determined.
Duober 13
Have been walking the border between woodlands and grasslands. I learned in my second month to avoid the open fields: there is no cover to hide in, and the creatures of those lands are either blazing fast or monstrously large. There is relative safety sticking to the trees, I am sad to say.
Duober 14
Had a pleasant encounter. At the foot of a small waterfall, I found a creature somewhat reminiscent of a sloth basking in the sun. Berries seem to be plentiful in the area, so I finally have some food in my belly and my bags again. The creature let me study it all I wanted, even let me touch it. It did eventually decide to make love to me, but it was gentle and saw to my satisfaction as well. I have had worse lovers in civilization. Notes and sketches taken.
I do not know how such a gentle beast survives in the wilds.
Duober 15
Haven't smelled the dragon's acids since morning. I think I might be clear of its territory. Moving away from the grasslands and deeper into the woods. Some sort of giant cat tried to chase me down at the border, and I had to hide inside a fallen log for a few hours to escape it. I'm recognizing fewer of the species I encounter, and I grow more excited and more trepidacious with every step.
Duober 16
Shaken. The earth quaked today, but in a rhythm similar to that of a horse at a walk. It started as a distant rumble in one direction, swelling steadily into a terrible avalanche of noise and destruction, then eventually fading into the distance off the other way. I think that something titanic just walked past me, but I could not see it, nor find its tracks.
This is it. I am in the lands where logic and science as we know it holds no sway, and anything is possible. I must find out all I can. Fear burns inside me, and I feel more alive than I can recall ever feeling before.
Duober 18
I have been accosted by ruffians. At first they seemed quite harmless, their bodies small and soft, their manner mischievous but charming. They seemed quite interested in my mouth, and I let them crawl over me while I took my notes, but eventually they grew amorous and could not be dissuaded. I found myself buried under more and more of them, an endless number gathering to hold a hedonistic orgy with me as the centerpiece, but this was not the worst of it.
Eventually, the noise drew the attention of one of those slug beasts, too big to hide in treetops anymore. I tried to retreat, but the rapscallions wanted to hold me down! I barely managed to escape, dragging half of them with me until they finally fell away. I think now that they wanted to be consumed, and planned to use me as bait to entice a larger predator to swallow us all up at once! I find myself just as upset as if I were mugged on the street by a kindly-seeming beggar. Still, I have taken notes and sketches. I hope this encounter will serve as useful warning to many others.
Duober 19
One of those ruffians ended up in my snare. I don't think this is the way it wanted to be eaten, but perhaps it would find some satisfaction in this nonetheless. I carry rocks to throw at them when they start to gather too much trailing after me. I have to sleep close to a fire to keep them away at night, and still I wake to them crawling over me. I hope I make it past their dens soon.
Duober 20
The little hedonists finally broke off following me around midday. They made for good relief, but also were entirely too "friendly" for comfort. Still, it may be a few days before their scent washes out of my parka and my fur. I hope whatever I meet next does not think I smell too much like food because of it.
Duober 21
Werewolves. Like rats, they seem to show up everywhere. I count myself lucky this was only a pack of three, but my borrowed scent certainly did not help. I had to play the submissive and service all of them to be left with no more than bites and scratches criss-crossing my body. Still, better than losing a day to searching for my equipment and hoping they are not waiting for me by the time I find it.
Duober 22
Scents tell me a great deal in the forest. It hinted at what was to come before I encountered the dragon, and reassured me when I was past its domain. Many different types of creatures have their paths or territories stretching across the woodlands, creating a series of overlapping, constantly shifting maps as the lowly and the mighty each war against their own rivals for resources and safety. Usually each area has its own dominating force, the dominating form of life that has largely pushed away all competition. I think that even the hedonists had a slice of land all to themselves, where even a dragon would be too pestered day and night to stay for long.
Scents make up the signposts of these territories, though I may not always know to whom or what a scent belongs. If the werewolves claimed the land I crossed yesterday, they had not held it long, and today I have picked up no one scent I can identify as the king whose domain I now infringe upon. Instead I pick up many minor scents, and I find the tracks of what seem to be children. What does this mean?
Do I dare to hope I am approaching the fringe of a wildling village? I heard some claims in the outermost city that they existed, but I could not bring myself to take the idea seriously. Whatever form it takes, I think a primitive folk have gathered nearby, and tomorrow I must see what imitation of society they have created here, in the dark heart of the woods!
Duober 26
Everything has changed. Where do I begin? It is not a village I have found, but a family-- a family I am now a part of. All of us are drawn together as brothers and sisters, as husbands and wives-- to her.
Shara is beyond my paltry capacity to describe. Her beauty, her fertile body, her intellect, all of it is beyond compare. On the first day, we made love three times, and every time I was rocked to my very core. All the joy and ecstasy I have felt in my life seems only a pale shadow before the warmth of her embrace, and every second I am away from her I ache for craving more of her.
Still more than that, the world itself seems to bend to her will and her wisdom, and I have no choice but to accept that the wildest stories are true: there is a magic in this world that can be used by mortals, and Shara has harnessed it. The garden's crops grow in hours rather than weeks, and in four days her belly has grown great and round with the babe I have given her. The children, too, have grown several inches since I arrived, and yet, if those among my brothers that know a smattering of my tongue are to be believed, Shara herself is well over a hundred years old-- yet she is more beautiful and energetic than any woman I have known of any age. She is the impossible being I came here to find, though I did not know it.
Duober 29
Our child was born this morning, and he is beautiful. I wish that he looked just like her, but I can tell that he is indeed my son. The Mistress has just told me that already she is pregnant with another of mine. I must fight back tears to write this. I am so terribly blessed, that she takes such an interest in me over all those gathered here for her.
We all adore her, and work to help her in our own way. The children too young to do more wander the forest to warn us of strangers approaching. The rest fulfill any and every duty she needs, be it working in the garden, clearing trees, building new shacks or sheds, or attending to her personally. I have been honored to help with better construction methods and refined tool crafting, when she does not have need of me herself. She seems to favor me for her magicks.
The Mistress paints symbols on smooth tree trunks using blood, berry juice, and my seed. I can feel a terrible energy I cannot identify flow through me when she draws me to meditate with her. It is as though I am sitting at the bottom of a riverbed, the water flowing powerfully over me, but also through me, and it leaves me feeling hot and ready to fill the forest with the sounds of two bodies clapping together.
I have everything I need here, and much, much more. Perhaps it is foolish to write in this journal any longer, but it pleases me to lay my joys out in the written word. Perhaps I will look back on these entries fondly in my old age.
Triaber 11
Agony. The spell is broken, though I still wish it were not. Two days ago, the werewolves attacked in force, and I went to meet them. I died, and by sheer luck, I had gone a day without... her attention. And doubly lucky, I awoke far away from them, from her... from the Witch. It was enough for the fog to thin, for me to start to question myself. To realize that it was not normal to devote my life to this savage, no matter how--
I dare not think about her too much. Even now, I yearn to go back. I had to wait an extra day just to try and clear my head before I dared to sneak in, under cover of night, and retrieve my belongings. Her magic is thick there, and I came so terribly close to giving in, to surrendering to her, I don't know how many times. This has been the hardest day of my journey, the most grueling, the most cruel. I feel as though I am left a husk without her.
But I am free. That is the important thing. I have extracted from these savage lands many valuable lessons, and I think that it is past time I retreat to civilization again. Autumn is on the breeze, and already I may be forced to winter in some other city, short of home. I intend to walk through the night and carry myself as far from this place as I can. I do not yet trust myself not to double back again.
Triaber 18
A week has passed, and still some wisp of fog lingers, but I believe I am largely recovered. I know now that this encounter was not merely an intense but passing moment in my life. The Witch of the Deep Woods will always live in my heart. I have no interest in studying the beasts of the places I pass through now, and I focus only on marching forward, on keeping the rising sun to my back, lest I find myself moving the other way without thinking.
I would have been happy with her. For the rest of my life. I know that. If that were all that mattered, I would never have left. But I must make something of my life, I must make a difference, I must help to advance the knowledge and wisdom of the civilized world. I must return to my people, to my business, to my friends and family. I cannot give all my life up for her. I cannot.
Still, I know that that temptation will linger always, that her pull will never truly fade away. I know that someday, I will be old and useless, and I think that perhaps then, I could attempt the journey one more time. Perhaps then, I will find her again, and she will welcome me back as though I had never left. Perhaps I will live again with her, and with my children, for untold centuries more. Or perhaps I will be cast aside as so much chaff. But that thought is enough to steel my heart and carry my feet forward.
I do not regret this journey. I will never regret meeting her. Even now, I do not know if I go to warn the people of the civilized world about her, or to spread word of what she offers.
