Closed The test: the first day

[Vart]

21st of spring 514 AV Vart trudged through the swamp, the oppressing heat feeling even worse thanks to the humidity. It had been a while since he had been visited by the group of rujaro who gave him this test and already he had too resist gulping down the water in his waterskin. The stuff that surrounded him and sloshed against him probably would give him the shits if he drank it. And while he did have those strange vials filled with shyke that would purify the water. He only had a few of those and he didn't want to waste them needlessly. First things first though. Since he just needed to survive for a few day's and go towards some place. He just needed to find a good place to set up camp. He had food and resources aplenty for seven day's. So no need to needlessly tire himself out by running around and scavenging for food. He didn't even know which animals, insects or plants were even edible and wouldn't give him the runs in this place. Though he guessed he could eat a snake if he managed to catch it and cut off the upper part. He pushed some of the hanging plants to the side with the wooden spear he had been given by the rujaro, when he managed to find some flint he would need to attach a stone head to it, would make the weapon a lot better for protection then just a wooden point. But he brushed that thought out of his mind. Scavenging for flint and usable rocks in this swamp would come after he found a reasonably dry spot to set up camp. He pushed through the swamp. But dry ground was hard to find. Eventually however he found a piece of ground that was still muddy, but at least large enough to set up a tent of some sort there. There were low overhanging branches where he could store his equipment on as well, so the water wouldn't get into it and ruin everything he had stolen from those pricks. Before he was going to set up camp he carefully checked for any snakes in the tree or anything else dangerous that could eat him while he was busy. He liked his guts inside his body and not in the stomach of some critter. He used the spear to poke around a bit under water and in the trees. Nothing really dangerous came up to bite him in the arse when he did it. Some large bugs crawled away. But he guessed that this place would be safe enough. He hung his stuff on the branches and got to work. Threw the tarp over the muddy ground and began to set up his tent. With a bit of working and improvising he managed to get something up that would keep him dry from any rain and was stable. But still he was pretty sure a tent wasn't supposed to look like that.

[Vart]

Vart gave the tent a tentative kick, it swayed a bit. But it didn't fall over. That was a good enough a sign for him. Now that he had a mostly dry place to sleep during the night. It was time for the second important thing. Getting a fire started. It would keep him warm during the cold nights and he would be able to cook his food with it. Not to mention it would probably keep most animals away from him during the night or day. At least if what he had heard was true at least. He knew for sure that the smoke of the fire would, especially from a fire made from wet wood, would be keeping the mosquitoes away from the sleeping place. Before that though he needed to find firewood. He looked around the swamp. He doubted he would be finding any dry wood around this place. But he could cut off the branches of the trees. They would still have sap inside, but they no doubt had to be dryer then the fallen branches and leaves in that had been soaking in the swamp water for who knows how long. Leaving all his equipment at the camp except his dagger and his mace for protection he went towards one of the trees. Beginning to hack away at the branches with his dagger, taking care to not let the branches fall in the swamp water below. Would make all the effort he went to get them go to waste. After having cut one or two branches off a single tree he went over back to camp and dropped them on the clean tarp covering the muddy swamp floor before returning towards the tree and continuing cutting off branches till he thought he had enough wood too start a fire. He started to cut the long branches into smaller pieces. Carefully keeping aside the smaller splinters of the wood that fell off as he was cutting it with his dagger. When that was done he arranged the smaller pieces in a small pile a bit away from his tent. So the flames couldn't accidentally light his tent on fire. He put the splinters in the middle of it and pulled out his flint and steal and began to try to light a fire.

[Vice]

After several chimes of failed attempts and what would likely be frustrated, fruitless effort, Vart succeeded in lighting a fire. Small embers burned, wood consumed and beginning to produce smoke. After fanning the flames, the smoke began to waft into the air, slowly, but surely gaining mass and density as the surface area of the burning wood grew with time.

Within a bell, the centre of the campfire was fully ignited, smoke pushing into the weave of the swamp's tapestry, the orange glow of the fire producing an eerie illumination of the surrounding area. Shadows danced upon trees, leaping from place to place as small, indistinct animals skittered across the way. Faint buzzing could be heard by a more observant person, beetles scattering into the tapestry of shrubbery as fluttering noises sounded in the distance.

The noises grew louder with time as the flames dispersed through the swamp, the heavy scent of smoke setting off natural instinct for many animals to seek shelter and run, though others, more intelligent beasts knew otherwise. Fluttering turned to earnest flapping as a Fowler turned its head about, its gaze directed towards the scent of fire.

Blessed with a feline's dark vision as it was, this did not prevent the beast from colliding into a larger one, the two adjusting in the air before they sailed through the air in unison. Hunting habits allowed the Fowler to coordinate their flight, each taking a different side when trees appeared in their path. It was merely thirty ticks before they arrived at Vart's camp, the larger of the two, a female, dark in colour with white streaks in its plumage, lashed out at the fletcher, intent on distracting him as the latter stayed back, searching for the sort of food that humans tended to keep with them.

Der Fowlah!The female is approximately 28 inches long, with a 62 inch wingspan. The male is approximately 24 inches long, with a 54 inch wingspanw.

[Vart]

Vart grinned with excitement when the pile of splintered wood slowly began to smoke and catch flame. Tonight he would be eating warm food and have a place to both dry his stuff and keep himself warm. He carefully blew on the fire feeding it more precious air and letting it slowly spread through the tinder and the fire grew and grew. With him slowly feeding the fire tinder and eventually larger parts of the branches he had gathered. Building a crackling fire slowly but steadily. Vart left the fire on its own as he grabbed a pot out of his bag and set it down, he had stole some travelers stock. But you needed water to make soup out of it. He doubted he had enough water in his waterskin for that. So he pulled of his shirt. Really hoping this worked. Otherwise he would just have a wet shirt and nothing else to show for it. He pulled the shirt over the opening of the pot and began scooping water on it with his hands. Hoping the shirt would filter out the large pieces in the water. He would use some of that alcohol he swiped to clean it even further before he boiled it to be sure the water wouldn't give him the runs. He grimaced as he looked at the slight greenish muck that clung to his shirt as he filtered the water through it. At least it was filtering something out of the water. That was what Vart kept himself busy with, scooping up water and slowly straining it through his shirt. His peace was rudely interrupted when a large bird of some kind suddenly hissed and lashed out at him. “What in the god's name!” He managed to stutter out as he backed of from the angry animal that kept scratching and biting at him, hissing all the while. He flailed his arms at the angry bird/cat hybrid thing. Whacking the large animal a few times. But unable to push it away from him for a good while. He stumbled backwards under the creature's assault. Grasping around for anything that could help him fend of the thing. He bumped against the makeshift spear he had been giving, letting it fall on the swampy ground. Ignoring the cuts on his arms he dove towards the sharp stick. Got back on his feet and began swinging and stabbing at the strange owl that was attacking him. It hissed at him. Just at the moment that luck made one of his wild swings connect with the owl..cat thing. Knocking it out of the sky. Another yowl sounded out and the animal quickly got to it's paws and flew off. “Yeah! You better run you petcher!” Just as he saw that he saw another of those owl things pull some part of his food out of his pack. “Oi!” The creature let out an indignant cry and flew off with a large part of his food stock in it's paws. “oh no you don't!” Vart yelled as he ran after the owl that stole his food. Loudly splashing through the swampy water. It was no use though. He lost sight of the creature pretty soon and the flying animal didn't leave any tracks. Not that he could track anyway. Dejected he slunk back towards his camping site.