I do not own ark survival evolved.
Now that the disclamer is over with on with the story and i hope u like it.
Life it is always changing, trying its best to improve to make itself, stronger, faster, better, smarter, nowadays the homosapien otherwise known as the human is the reigning predator and dominant species. But what happens when a person is thrown back to a time when that wasn't the case at all, a time when humans were at the bottom of the food chain and prey to almost all species in existence, a time of ferocious killer beasts and insects the size of full grown humens. I welcome you dear readers to the ARK can you survive or will you be another source of food.
Scorching beams of light blazed across his back, sending bright flares of pain lancing throughout his body. The Sun was a beacon of misery and pain; dry and scalding, making every aspect of his current life a living nightmare. Hungry waves lapped at his ankles while a coating of powdery sand clung unpleasantly to his skin. Overhead, the distant cries of unfamiliar seabirds echoed over the vast beach.
The man was almost completely naked, save a pair of simple fiber undergarments that chafed roughly against the sparse bit of skin that it protected. He lay unmoving for a long time, pressed against the sandy shore until he could take the unrelenting glare of the morning Sun no longer. With an labored grunt, the man rolled over and tryed to push himself up only to fall back down, he pushed one more time and got to his knees. Almost instantly, he was struck with a splitting headache that felt like a thousand knives hitting his skull all at once. Fiery rays of light dance across his eyes, the Sun was too bright. The man collapsed back into the sand with a sharp intake of air, struggling to push back the nausea threatening to overwhelm him. Every heartbeat became a struggle, every breath a war. After a moment of toughing out the pain and catching his breath, the man pushed against the ground once again. It felt like a hammer pounded against his skull with every pulse and he almost blacked out from the small exertion.
The Sun was intensely bright and searing hot, it threatened to boil him alive. The waves were too loud and the cries of the seabirds too sharp. Black spots danced across his vision. The man knelt in the blistering heat, panting to catch his breath. Just when he was ready to collapse and let the Sun slowly bake him to death, some primal instinct kicked in and he rose. The man staggered drunkenly toward the line of trees farther down the beach. One step. Then another. His feet started moving on their own. Twice he stumbled, but he managed to catch himself in time. If he fell now, he would likely never get up again. The pounding of the clashing waves eventually began to dull.
The man was within steps of the shade when he could not go any farther. His legs were growing weak and heavy, his head clouded. It would take every bit of his willpower to stay upright just a moment longer. His legs gave out beneath him and when the man stumbled, he finally accepted his fate. As the ground raced to meet his head, he had one final thought: at least this isn't such a terrably bad place to die. And then his limp body crashed into the sandy floor.
The man awoke aroumd noon, Before anything else, he would have to tend to his own needs. He groaned and sat up, looking himself over. A thin coat of sand stuck everywhere. He began to brush it off and cursed when his hand brushed against his shoulders. They were a tender pink verging on red and hurt whenever he touched them. The back of his neck he could not see but based on gentle probing that made him wince it was sunburnt even worse than his shoulders. There were blisters on his back and some, faded scars that never fully healed lining his arms. The rough undergarment had chafed his skin raw. They were all minor wounds that would heal eventually, but until they did, they would be a constant irritation.
The man felt a sharp pain from his stomach as it rumbled. He had no idea when he had last eaten. He stood up groggily and glanced around at his surroundings. He was sitting with his back to the beach. Closest to him and well away from the lapping tides, tall trees with thick trunks towered imposingly, shielding him from the Sun. Grey and green moss clung to the bark while vines hung off thick branches. Where he was sitting, the sand had given way to dark green hand sized leaves that covered the floor. Interspersed amongst the leaves were small bushes and skinny ferns that swayed in the wind. When he looked closer, he could see clusters of something small and blue hanging onto the shrubs.
The man approached with caution; As the man was debating whether they were edible or not, he noticed a pair of strange new creatures sticking to the shade on the outskirts of the trees. They looked like two huge lizards. The beasts came up to perhaps his waist and stood on two legs. They had short, stubby little arms and quills that ran all the way down their backs and across long, thin tails. The bigger one had a scaly hide of dark green while the smaller of the two was a light, grey. The dark green one had two big grey crests on its head, the smaller one had a similar pair but half the size and much more dull. Most noticeably however, were the two large frills that both lizards had on either side of their scaly heads. The man assumed that the two were mates, the larger one being the male, the smaller one female. Even as he watched, the male arched its head back and hissed, the frills fanning out. The female took up the call, hooting and replicating the pose.
Suddenly the male snapped its head forward with a snarl, jaw open and teeth gleaming. A blob of green liquid rocketed out of the mouth, straight at one particularly chubby chicken. The bird screeched when it was struck, flapping useless wings and staggering away from the danger. The rest of the flock scattered, clucking and squawking. Where the fowl was hit, feathers steamed and parted, revealing shiny red flesh underneath. The female lizard spat, striking the fat chicken on a plump leg and bringing the poor bird down.
The lizards were on it in an instant.
The bigger reptile leaped, clawing for the neck. The female was right behind, closing sharp teeth around the leg in a savage bite. With a fierce wrench, the leg was ripped clean off, red tendons hanging from where it had been. The bird wailed in agony. The male finally ended the suffering by slashing a sharp claw across the soft neck, blood spilling over the already tainted beach. After the bird was dead, the two huge lizards began tearing at the corpse where it lay. The man shuddered at the gory sight but at the very least, now he knew the birds could be eaten.
The man edged down the beach, away from the fierce lizards and closer to where the flock had fled. He snatched a sturdy stick off the ground with a slight point to it. When he walked up to a bird it squawked and eyed him for a moment then went back to scratching in the dirt. The man took a moment to pet the bird on the head. It glanced up at him curiously, he speared the bird in the neck quickly. Blood sprayed out across the beach, the yellow sand drank it up eagerly, turning a vivid red.
"Sorry friend," the man murmured as he lifted the makeshift spear. The end was slick with blood.
The man hefted his branch high and started back towards the shade, his trophy dangling from it limply by the neck. The other birds gazed at him with dull, uncomprehending eyes and went back to pecking in the sand. By now the Sun was nearly halfway in the sky. The two frilled lizards caught the scent of the great fat bird the man held and turned to watch him but made no move to steal his prize. If they were still hungry, there was slower prey to be found. The male hissed when he made to go under the shade so instead of risking a fight, he trudged away from the jungle.
The man needed wood for a fire, he was definitely not eating this bird raw. The trees here were spaced much farther apart than before, separated by a sea of greenish yellow grass. Ahead of him was a steep rocky rise, nearly twice his height with a flat patch of yellow grass on top. There was a gentle slope that lead to the top, opposite the side of the cliff bordering the jungle. He climbed the gentle rise and looked around. Behind him was the beach, to his right the gentle hills rolled on, disturbed by the occasional tree. To his front was a small brook, bubbling from a hole in the rock and behind that were more hills and trees. To his left was the jungle, mysterious, ever changing ... and still too close for comfort, he thought as he heard some strange bellows echoing from the trees.
The man hiked back to the base of the crag, jabbed his stick into the dirt and knelt next to the brook. The water was clear and clean, a tiny sip revealed. He cupped his hands and took a few swallows. It was cool and did not taste strange so he was uncomplaining. The man splashed some water over himself to rinse off the dust and grime that still clung to his body. The water felt cool and soothing against his skin. After washing himself down, the man lurched back to his feet and went to gather wood for a fire.
He peeled dried bark from a tree and pulled up a bushel of dead grass for kindling. On top of these, he piled small twigs and brittle branches. From a long dead tree he snapped off thick branches to lay over the twigs and from the jungle he dragged a few old logs. At first the man had tried to start the fire by a rubbing a branch against bark but after yielding no results, he threw his hands up in frustration and kicked a rock as hard as he could. Only as the stone flew did he see that it was sharp and a rusty orange colour. He snatched it from the ground and struck it against a smooth rock from the beach. It took a few tries but when he was ready to give up, the rocks flared and a spark landed on the dried grass.
The man cupped his hands around the flame to protect it from the wind and it grew. The fire spread rapidly once it had gotten a decent size. Flames leaped from the grass and bark to the twigs and then up the branches, becoming a huge blaze. When most of the kindling had burned away, the man threw a log into the fire and the flames swelled. The man laughed and threw his hands into the air in victory. After he was sure the fire was fine, the man wrestled the chicken off of the stick and laid it on a flat rock. First he severed the head with a few deft strikes from a sharp rock and then began the arduous process of plucking every feather from the body. It was long and bloody work, the man was thankful for the shade of the cliff. The Sun was three quarters of the way across the sky when he was finished.
The man re-impaled the bird against the stick and jammed it into the ground, at an angle above the fire. He leaned back against a smooth boulder and sharpened another branch using a sharp rock. The stick was strong and sturdy, it came up to his shoulder and would be good at stabbing or throwing if he ever needed it. Up until now his only weapon had been the snapped branch he had found on the beach. He was glad for a new weapon. As he watched the fire and sharpened the stick he began to think.
Why was he here and how did he get here? He didn't know the answer to either of those. What was his name? That one he could almost answer, it was just at the corner of his brain, so familiar yet so strange. His life he could hardly remember anything. He tried hard but faces were blurry, most conversations made no sense and places were dark, grey and distorted. And then his name came back to him, Michael Hunt that was his name. Michael Hunt he said it again still it sounded a little strange to him. He glanced down at the roasting fowl to see a rich, beautiful golden brown skin, crisp and crackling. Grease dripped off the bird like sweat, sizzling and sputtering as the droplets were swallowed by the fire. He yanked the makeshift spit out of the dirt to let the bird cool. His stomach rumbled and growled, louder than anything in the jungle. After a few moments, he could not stop himself from tearing into the bird. He ripped off a leg and cursed, tossing the meat from hand to hand until it cooled. He bit into the crispy skin, grease dripping down his chin. The meat tasted heavenly. The skin was seared crackling and crispy, the flesh inside a tender pink. In no time at all, the only thing that remained of the chicken leg was a few bones tossed haphazardly to the edge of his camp. He pried a second leg from the bird, this one cooler than the one before. He attacked the chicken with the same ferocity as before, wolfing down the meat in savage bites. When he was finished, grease smeared his chin and slivers of meat clung to his teeth yet his stomach still growled ruefully, hungry for more.
He tested touching the body of the bird but snatched his hand back immediately, wincing at the pain. He sucked on his finger to draw out the heat. The rest of the bird was still too hot to eat, so instead Michael grabbed his makeshift spear and headed back to the beach to spear anotherone. Even after finishing the meat by the fire, he would surely still be hungry. michael had gone the entire day without any food up until now he relised. He would likely need a second chicken to quench his hunger.
When he emerged on the beach, the sky was a pretty pink colour. The two frilled lizards were gone, but where there had only been one corpse before, there were now three. The brutes liked chicken michael noted. He would keep his leftovers handy in case the beasts ever tried to raid his camp. There were still plenty of the fat birds waddling around though, and he speared one lightning quick. The others scattered in a haste, but michael knew that the next time they saw him they would waddle up to him all the same.
When he returned to camp the fire was still going, though much smaller than before. And so he fed a few branches to the flames, then drove his spear into the ground. The Sun had gone down completely and everything beyond the fire was pitch black. If he had thought the jungle was unnerving during the day, it was terrifying during the night. Where the shadows had only shifted with the wind ever so slightly before, now they danced and twirled like demons, black and terrifying. Every sputter of his fire caused the darkness to shift. From those deadly shadows something unnerved him. He set up grabbing his spear from the ground, Michael lifted himself up and stared into the bushs. A single dodo waddled from the bushes and he let out a sigh, stabbing the spear down into the ground again he set to work cleaning the other bird. Michael set and ate the last of the first bird while the second cooked. when the second bird was done it quickly followed the first and was devoured. After eating the last bit of meat he tossed the bones with the rest of them, and settled down to sleep for the rest of the night.