The items that his current tenants took out, it almost seems like they are materialised out from nowhere. Much like how the games works. Do they all have storage spaces? How exactly does that works? Is it a spatial dimension? Did items get digitalised instead? What about that notifications? What does a system do?
"Argh!" He expresses frustratedly. "So many questions, unsolved! So annoying!"
If only he can find someone or something to give him all the answers he seeks. But well, no use in dwelling about it. He needs to move forward and maybe add another list to Tedior's Epic Quests.
For now though, he needs a good old backpack. Should he weaves one? Or folds an epic origami one that he has yet to blueprint? Or simply just scrunches up something to make a leaf-sack instead?
"Hmm. Decisions, decisions." He hums as he once again makes his way out, his hands holding onto the two items.
The dense fog has gradually dispersed leaving only a thin veil behind. The soft warm glow of sunlight can finally breach past the canopy of trees, reaching the detritus of the forest.
Tedior basks himself in the warmth the sunray brings, humming contently to himself in this peaceful moment he gets to enjoy.
"Is it spring, autumn or summer...?" he murmers absentmindedly.
After a few minutes of sunbathing, thus begins his adventure. He ventures forward, into the thin veil remnace of morning fog. In search for food for himself and his tenants, and a backpack to make.
First, food thoughts.
What does fantasy forest creatures eat? Better yet, what does Gurrhuyre eats? He should have asked it just now.
The firefly is an easy fix. They are predaceous insects, well their larvae are. Adults, however, feasts on pollen and nectar, but sometimes, they eat nothing at all.
Now here is the more important question, what does a fantasy firefly eats? Are they actually fireflies?
What are they? What are all of them?
Are they forest wisps? Was there not an Irish folk lore of malevolent lil firefly wisps luring naive little children into the forest and killing them, devouring their tender flesh.
Or does that lore belongs to the skittish forest spirits?
He really, really should have asks all of their preferred sustenance. If the harrowing lore rings true in this world, he will devour their flesh instead. Them and their whole kind.
Be that as it may, he will just take a leap of faith first and just gathers a little bit of everything. Of course, after he tested them for their palatability.
First and foremost, collecting the nearby greens as vegetable dishes.
In a world so different, his forestry knowledge are nugatory. However, that is the joy in exploration, to relish in something new.
Every new step he takes, is a possible poisonous encounter! Is it neurotoxin? Paralytic poisons? What if he encounters the legendary cordyceps? Oh, to be a zombie-Tedior! How about that parasitic wasps he keeps hearing about?
So many new stories to dive into. The diversities in this genre! Is it going to be action packed? What if it turned horror! Gore! Or tragedy? Does the beginnings of his chapters count as a tragedy genre? He did died.
Ah, no matter.
Take this small pile of mauve mold that he is standing on right now. It is giving off a soft humming noise while glowing a soft purplish hue.
'What a peculiar plant.' He thoughts, tilting his head in amusement. He takes a few steps back off it then repeatedly poking it with his legs. It gives off the same soft hum no matter the weight of the pressure he puts on.
'Almost like a music note. Does not seems to be emitting any types of toxin...' he speculates, intrigued. Plucking a few off the original few, he shoves it into his mouth. 'Huh. Taste like a sea moss. Have the texture of one too.'
Nodding to himself, he wanders off in search for the perfect leaf to mould into a backpack. He has his first item for that future backpack of his.
This time for ease of time and effort, he makes the leaf into a sack instead, scrunching it up and peeling some stalks to make string. Weaving the strings into tiny holes that he makes, tying it into an overhand knot.
Just like so, his first beginners storage utility is made: a drawstring bag.
How exciting!
Removing half of the musical mold, leaving the other half to regrow, he shoves his half into the newly made bag of his with the feeling of triumph. Doing so all the while listing the recipes he can make with this item. But the main problem here is fire. Mayhaps he could start one himself? It should not be too hard.
He collects the excess strings which he extracted from the grass stalk and weave them together to make them sturdier. Then he ties it to the new leafy-bag making it into a strap so he can wraps it around his body as a slinging sack. The pin that he left forgotten, he stabs it horizontally through the bag for easy access. The orb is grasp securely in his hand as an emergency life saving tool.
"Come out, come out wherever you are~" he whispers with a minatory edge, eager to use this particular item.