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A Game of Cat and Mouse with one of Ark's Newest Predators - The Purlovia


TiltedLogic

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A Game of Cat and Mouse with one of Ark's Newest Predators - The Purlovia

I wish I could say that I had been the cat.

After an arduous search among the rocky outcroppings I thought this beast might inhabit, I was perpetually coming up empty. The latest patch had been released, I had reset my server to spawn in the new creatures – all I had to do was find one. This task proved difficult – I knew the Purlovia was a burrower, an ambush predator. I didn’t know if I should expect to find one in the wild snuggly hidden amongst the topsoil and weeds that populate the hills and rocky locales I thought the Purlovia might frequent. I spent my time fleeing from Carnos and Sabers as I made my way through the jagged ridges of Red Peak, keeping an eye out for any shifty looking mounds. I found none.

I decided to move northwards, hoping the bright snow covered peaks of Whitesky and Winter’s Mouth would provide me with an easier time spotting disturbed soil. Again, I came up empty, and decided perhaps I would settle on searching for an Ovis Aries instead. Gliding above the treetops on my Argent and glancing between the ever present Rexes and Chalicotherums gallivanting around the frosted cliffs, I cast a glance at Rhino engaged in a losing battle.

Whatever beast the Rhino was swiping at was small, as I could not make it out at a distance. That was nothing unusual – the mountains were home to plentiful numbers of Sabers and Dire Wolves, both of which are small targets, but curiosity compelled me to at least check out the level of this lone attacker. I flew closer and my attention was instantly captivated by the movement of this beast. I could see now the long slender tail, a defining trait of a Saber. But it moved so unlike the vicious feline: arching its back with a fluidity that made it appear as though it was swimming through the snow drifts. With a start I realized this was no saber, and I guided my Argent to a landing nearby so I could get a closer look.

It was a Purlovia. My first Purlovia. And it was quickly garnering the attention of the other herbivores nearby, with more rhinos rushing to the aid of their bloody brethren. I wasted no time climbing back on my argent and swooping in. I figured I had one serious shot at grabbing the Purlovia. Whatever colour its coat had been originally was now dyed red from streaks of blood. Luckily for me though, practice with a wyvern and its dreadful turn radius on the Scorched Earth map had made me more than adequate at timing my grasps, and with a precise dive, I soon had the Purlovia safely in my clutches and was headed home.

(It was at this point I realized that I really, really need to build a taming cage somewhere. Repeatedly I run into this issue when I’ve got some dangerous beast in my grasp with no where secure to leave it. Usually I drop the creature on a beach near my base and manage to position myself with some height advantage and knock it out successfully, but still, I really must build one soon.)

I was now in sight of my base when familiarity suddenly reminded me I had a starving juvenile Procoptodon within my walls, which I had diligently birthed for the Valentines event. In a panic that the baby might have run out of food while I was spending my time negligently rock climbing I dropped the Purlovia in the nearby forest and flew straight into home base.

The Procoptodon baby was fine; it had reached a point while I was out that its rate of nourishment was at manageable levels, and it still had plentiful amounts of berries left. Good.

At this point I figured I may as well offload the spoils of my adventuring – cook the meat, sort the chitin and hide. The Purlovia was in the forest; surely there was plenty of easy prey in there to keep it distracted and away from my base. Darkness was encroaching and I figured I wouldn’t be able to spot the Purlovia with my pitiful wooden torch anyway.

So diligently I tended to my dinos: collecting eggs, refilling troughs and walking the grounds debating what structure I might want to expand on in the daylight.

When morning came, I had all but forgotten about the Purlovia in a frenzy to breed more creatures for the Valentines event. I opted to mate my dodos, as perhaps they would offer the highest drop rate on chocolates (I never imagined I’d be crawling at the feet of dodos to lay my hands on luxurious bonbons). This turned into more egg collection, restocking my preserving bins with spark powder and a whole host of other monotonous tasks that lead to cooking kibble and that pivotal moment when I realized – I still had an untamed Purlovia on the loose.

Once again it was dusk, and I realized that I desperately needed to find the Purlovia before it wrecked havoc on my base. This was not so much from a practical standpoint – I had dinos aplenty that could dispatch of a lowly level 36 Purlovia – but rather from the stance that I still desired to tame this Purlovia, and letting my dinos defend themselves would see an end to that oppourtunity.  At the same time, with all my dinos on passive, if the Purlovia got a hold of any without my knowledge, they would surely be dinner.

I rushed to my bookshelf and retrieved the (presumably very dusty) blueprint for a flashlight attachment. Rejoice, as I had enough materials on hand to craft one; I just needed something to attach it to. I recalled that I had previously obtained a simple pistol from a rare generous beacon, and I rushed back to my storage unit to combine it with the flashlight. I had been a player that utilized dinosaur companions for defense more-so than technology, so I didn’t even have a recipe to create ammunition for the gun.

But no matter, I just needed the flashlight. Surely I would see the distinct form of the Purlovia among the docile Parasaurs and Moschops that wandered the area before I was too close to harm. It seemed burrowing was a trait only tamed Purlovias employed.

I rushed from my base into the night and the sparse forest scattered along the beach. I knew if I chose the safety of height on my Argent that I would not be able to utilize the flashlight, so I opted to go on foot.

That was my second mistake.

The first of course was dropping a Purlovia into a forest. Into a forest right next to my base.

I had no idea which way the beast would have wandered, so I quickly checked over my own tames that remained outside my walls do to their sheer size. None were under attack. I had the presence of mind to make a quick note of all the wild dinos I passed, with the thought of keeping an eye out when I returned to see if they were still alive.

I studied the brief bit of grassland nearby, eager to explore the areas where I could spot the Purlovia from a safe distance first - crossing my fingers that’s how I would encounter it. No sign of the Purlovia, and the presence of plenty of gentle wildlife attesting to that.

I headed to the beach, feeling safe with my back against the water.

I was promptly robbed by a Pegomastax.

For a moment I considered pursuing it, but all it had taken was the last of my dinner. I climbed a rock to scour the area and saw no sign of the Purlovia, but rather a disconcerting amount of Pegomastax and realized I should probably head back to base and stock up on more inconsequentially stolen cooked meat.

The closest route back to base was through the forest, and I shone my new flashlight dutifully through the undergrowth as I pressed forward. I had never used anything beyond a simple flame to light my way before, and the bright white light from the flashlight cast strikingly unsettling shadows on the trees that jumped and jolted as I moved.

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That’s when it struck.

I don’t know which direction it came from. I didn’t see it approach; in fact I am almost certain it had to have been burrowed to sneak up on me so expertly when I was methodically casting the beam from my flashlight in every direction as I walked.

None the less, the Purlovia had found me.

I stood there, stunned by the force of the pounce, fiddling with my uselessly unloaded pistol, trying to switch to the only other weapon I had easily accessible in my arsenal, my long neck rifle. After a few seconds I was able to compose myself enough to switch weapons, and I was instantly bathed in darkness permeated only by the far-off glow of a Beacon as my hands reassuringly griped my loaded rifle. I spun around, trying to locate the creature that was currently trying to tear me apart, and in my panicky jitter it took me far too long to spot it among the darkened undergrowth.

Once I finally made out the form of the offending beast I managed to hold my rifle still long enough to fire a tranquilizer shot (I still hopelessly wanted this thing alive).   

I reloaded and fired another shot, knowing there was nothing in the present environment that would give me an advantage over this thing; all I could do was keep shooting before it took me down.

I fired again. And again. I lost track of how many shots I took when the Purlovia finally spun around and bounded off into the forest to recover from its encroaching stupor. I fired at it as it fled, knowing that if I could only hit it with one or two more shots it would be down for the count. In the darkness and impressive distance the Purlovia had covered in the time it took me to reload, I missed each shot. The Purlovia crested a hill leading uncomfortably close to my base and vanished from sight.

Realizing I had to catch up with it before it was out of reach completely or opted to burrow in the undergrowth granting it a decisive advantage and making it near impossible to find, I pursued. By this point in time a beacon had appeared on the beach next to me, igniting the trees with a white glow. I knew I couldn’t sacrifice my tranquilizer gun for the flashlight, so I happily accepted this brief good fortune.

I rushed towards my base and my unprotected tames resting in the cloudy moonlight. I had not realized the speed a Purlovia could attain, and by this point I was sure I had lagged so far behind that it would be on offense once again. My tames were all unharmed, so I proceeded in the direction the Purlovia had been headed. The presence of contented docile wildlife suggested the Purlovia had fled much farther than I anticipated. My concern grew realizing that if the Purlovia could indeed burrow, I would once again lose it to the undergrowth of the area.

It was at this point I once again found myself on the beach, quickly being pursued by Dilos and the Pegomastax I had so carelessly forgotten about. No matter, I could outrun those, diving behind rocks or swerving between lazily grazing Triceratops. Again it crossed my mind that the presence of all this wildlife might indicate the Purlovia diverted off to some other part of the inlet. But I also didn’t know at this point what sort of meal would satisfy a Purlovia aside from Human.

Daylight finally dawned, and it also occurred to me that perhaps the Purlovia hadn’t attacked anything because it hadn’t had a chance to – perhaps the tranquilizers I had hit it with were enough to knock it out sometime after it had fled. That wouldn’t be the first time I had seen such a thing occur. But now this presented a new issue – if a Raptor or a Sarco should get greedy enough, I could lose this Purlovia in its sleep. Time. Time is always of the essence.

I pressed on with my search, paying extra attention to the bushes and weeds that might conceal a slumbering beast.

It didn’t take long before I realized how fruitless a pursuit this was. I couldn’t see through any of the underbrush that wasn’t directly in front of me, I needed a higher vantage point. Argent to the rescue.

I rushed to find my Argent where I had left it earlier, albeit with a new friend – the Pegomastax that had robbed me earlier had apparently gotten a taste for the high life, and was now desperately eyeing my bird for any leftovers. I managed to climb onto my Argent untroubled; so distracted with a meal was this Pegomastax. Of course as soon as I lifted off in what I can only imagine was a shocked fury, it attacked. Out of pity and slight concern for the future of my valuables I had my Argent pick it up and drop it off at the beach with the rest of its troublesome ilk.

I scoured the area on my argent to no avail. No sign of any dark blotches among the undergrowth that might indicate a sleeping beast. No mounds of dirt among the grass to betray a patient predator. I conceded that if the Purlovia had decided to burrow, it had likely done so on the surrounding beach; making it all but impossible to distinguish a small mound of dirt amongst the sand.

As of yet, I still have not encountered that Purlovia again. The area I inhabit on the island is relatively peaceful, a respite broken only by the briefest appearances of a Sarco passing through to richer waters or a Raptor carelessly pursuing helpless prey. No real threats, aside from my own incompetence.

I imagine I’ll run into the Purlovia again. Just as with my own tamed Sarco, who mysteriously disappeared without a trace, I expect it’ll turn up again. But unlike the party I’ll throw for my long lost Sarco with choice fillets of fish and free reign of the mating pen, I am going to promptly shoot the Purlovia in the face and force feed it until it loves me.

On the plus side, at least now I have time to build a proper taming pen.

 

If anybody read through all of that, you have my sincere appreciation. I'm not much of a writer, I just thought the scenario as it was occurring was rather entertaining and figured I might write it down. I might make some edits here or there to try and improve it, as I rather enjoyed writing it out. And If I ever do chance upon that Purlovia again, I will probably update this, as I've become rather fond of the challenge it has presented me.

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