Venturing beyond the dubious safety of city walls, whether seeking ancient ruins, fulfilling fetch quests, or simply trying to find a quieter place to be unlucky, requires preparation. Underestimating the wilderness (or even the creepy path up the cliffs just outside settlement limits) is a fast track to becoming vulture food or ghost chow. Proper planning separates the seasoned survivor from the cautionary tale whispered by weary adventurers.
Essential Preparations Checklist:
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Navigation: Map (if available and reliably sourced, which is rare), compass (verify it works in this dimension's magnetic field), knowledge of significant landmarks, or a reliable guide (living, spectral, or System-based, depending on subscription tier). Getting lost drains resources and morale rapidly. (See Section 68: Wilderness Survival - Finding Your Way When All Else Fails).
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Sustenance: Water is paramount (carry more than you estimate needing; dehydration is an insidious killer), non-perishable food rations (dried meat, hard biscuits, nutrient paste – caloric intake trumps gastronomic delight). Relying on foraging is highly inadvisable for novices without verified local knowledge. (See Appendix C: Edible vs. 'Will Make You Regret Being Born' Flora and Fauna).
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Shelter: Bedroll, insulating tarp, or a portable tent structure depending on climate and expected duration. Even a simple waterproof cloak can make the difference between uncomfortable dampness and life-threatening hypothermia.
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Tools: A sturdy knife (multipurpose essential), sufficient rope (at least 15 meters – its uses are myriad), reliable fire-starting implement (flint & steel, fire crystals, self-immolating beetle glands), basic toolkit if anticipating mechanical obstacles, possibly a small entrenching tool or shovel (useful for latrines, excavating minor finds, or hasty burials).
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Illumination: Torches (require constant replacement), oil lamp (requires fuel), magical light source (check power reserves/duration). Traveling or working in darkness exponentially increases risk.
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First Aid: Clean bandages, basic antiseptic solutions (even strong alcohol can suffice in a pinch), pain relief concoctions. A certified healing potion is ideal but often represents significant expense. Fundamental knowledge of wound treatment is non-negotiable. (See Module 22: Battlefield Medicine for Dummies).
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Defense: Weapon appropriate to anticipated threats (consider both mundane beasts and potentially less mundane encounters), a backup weapon (even a simple knife counts), possibly light armor if affordable and practical for travel (heavy armor hinders movement and increases exhaustion). Remember, the wilderness operates under different rules, and predators come in many forms.
Pre-Departure Checks:
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Weather Forecast: Consult local patterns, almanacs, or obliging weather spirits. Setting out before a major storm, magical anomaly, or seasonal griffin migration is generally poor planning.
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Information Gathering: Acquire intelligence regarding your destination – known hazards (monster territories, unstable terrain, local curses), recent activity (bandit patrols, migrating herds), and local legends (often exaggerated, but frequently contain kernels of truth regarding specific dangers).
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Notify Someone (Optional/High Risk): Informing a trusted contact (a rare commodity) of your intended route and expected return time might facilitate rescue should you become incapacitated or overdue. However, it might also lead said contact directly to your freshly looted corpse or provide rivals with exploitable information. Weigh the potential benefits against the significant risks based on your assessment of the contact's reliability and motivations.
Preparation won't guarantee success, but a lack of preparation almost certainly guarantees failure, often in a messy, unpleasant, and thoroughly avoidable fashion. Don't be That Guy? found frozen solid two miles from town because he optimistically assumed trousers were optional for a "quick jaunt".
The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
(Inkstained Prophet's Maxim: An ounce of preparation is worth a pound of frantic flailing while being devoured by whatever monstrosity inhabits the local wilderness. Plan accordingly, or become compost.)
[Kevin's Story: Part 20 - Gathering Courage and Coppers]
The decision to seek out the Old Temple brought a strange sense of calm amidst the anxiety. It was a concrete goal, a proactive step, however desperate. No more hiding and reacting. He spent the rest of the day mentally reviewing the Guide's advice on expedition planning and subtly observing the flow of goods in the market areas he could safely skirt near the Drunken Sailor.
He needed supplies. His sixty-odd coppers felt like a meager sum for outfitting even a short expedition, especially since he needed to hold some back for emergencies. He couldn't risk going to the Merchant Quarter, so his options were limited to the dockside vendors, primarily Boltar.
The next morning, after finishing his work for Martha (who eyed his slightly grim determination with curiosity but didn't comment), Kevin approached Boltar's Hardware stall.
"Boltar," he began, keeping his voice low. "Need a few things. Good rope, sturdy. Maybe fifteen, twenty meters?"
Boltar raised an eyebrow. "Goin' climbing, Finn? Or tying somethin' down?"
"Just... need it," Kevin evaded. "And maybe some lamp oil? A small flask? And flint and steel?"
Boltar selected a coil of decent-looking hemp rope. "This'll hold. Fifteen coppers." He found a small, stoppered tin flask and filled it with thick oil from a barrel. "Oil, five coppers. Flint and steel," he produced a set, "three coppers." He paused, looking Kevin up and down. "Heading somewhere rough?"
"Maybe. Cliffs path, maybe," Kevin admitted reluctantly.
Boltar's expression turned serious. "The Old Temple path? Lad, folk avoid that place for good reason. Treacherous footing, sudden fogs roll in off the sea... and the ruins themselves..." He shook his head. "Place gives me the creeps just lookin' at it from down here. Full of bad echoes and worse luck, they say."
"I know the stories," Kevin said, trying to sound nonchalant. "Just... curious."
"Curiosity killed the cat burglar," Boltar grunted, but he counted out the items. "Twenty-three coppers total." Kevin paid, the transaction significantly denting his savings.
"Be careful up there, Finn," Boltar added gruffly as Kevin turned to leave. "Some things are best left forgotten."
Kevin nodded his thanks, appreciating the genuine concern beneath the gruffness. He then visited a stall selling dried goods, purchasing hard biscuits and dried, salted fish – cheap, durable rations that tasted like despair but offered sustenance. Another ten coppers gone. He filled his waterskin and the extra one the Veteran had left him at the well. His remaining funds felt perilously low, barely thirty coppers.
Back in the storeroom, he packed his meager supplies into a burlap sack. Rope, oil, flint/steel, food, water, toolkit, dagger. It wasn't much. He glanced at the [Basic Healing Potion (Crude)]. Its smell seemed to have ripened. Taking it felt necessary, despite his reluctance.
As he was securing the sack, he noticed something tucked beneath the pile of burlap he used as a bed. It hadn't been there before. A small, tightly sealed pouch made of oiled leather, the kind designed to keep contents dry. No note this time.
He opened it cautiously. Inside were not coins or weapons, but several strips of tough, dried meat – far better quality than the salted fish he'd just bought – and a small packet of finely ground herbs that smelled sharp and invigorating.
Ding!
[Item Acquired: [Traveler's Rations (Good Quality)] x3]
[Item Acquired: [Stimulant Herb Packet (Minor)] x1 - Temporarily increases Stamina regeneration and wards off fatigue.]
The Veteran again. Watching. Providing. The direct System message had been unsettling, but these silent gifts… they felt both helpful and manipulative. They knew he was going. They approved? Or were simply equipping him for whatever purpose they had in mind? He added the rations and herbs to his sack, a fresh wave of unease mixing with gratitude.
He spent the rest of the afternoon pretending to mend nets near the edge of the docks, watching the cliffs that loomed over Port Azure to the north. They rose sheer in places, scarred by wind and waves. A narrow, winding path was barely visible snaking upwards towards a plateau where dark, crumbling shapes stood silhouetted against the sky – the Old Temple ruins. Locals superstitiously avoided the path, especially after dark, muttering about ghosts of drowned sailors, phantom lights (like the ones he’d heard gossiped about), and a palpable sense of unease that clung to the stones. Perfect place to seek a blessing for bad luck.
As dusk began to settle, painting the sky in bruised purples and reds, Kevin slipped away from the docks. He bypassed the main gates, using [Urban Navigation] to find a little-used fisherman's track that led towards the base of the cliffs. He didn't tell Martha or Boltar where he was truly going. The Guide warned about notifying others. Besides, explaining he was going to pray to forgotten gods at a haunted ruin to fix his abysmal System-assigned Luck stat felt… complicated.
Standing at the start of the cliff path as the first stars began to prick the darkening sky, Kevin took a deep breath, the salty air cold in his lungs. The path looked even more treacherous up close, loose scree and sheer drops barely visible in the fading light. He checked the dagger at his belt, adjusted the sack on his shoulder.
This was it. Stepping off the map of his daily grind into the unknown. He was terrified. But the memory of the crushed spice box, the sound of the guard's shouts, the whispers about Finn and the guilds – they pushed him forward. He had to change something.
He took the first step onto the winding path, leaving the dubious safety of Port Azure behind him. The gamble had begun.