In order to join this thread, please contact Pallas through his inbox or Aradium #3839 on Discord. This thread takes into account liquid time, with Pallas building his home around the end of cycle 50, where he's 7 cycles old. When he deems the home complete, this thread may become an open thread. For now, just let me know if you want to join.

day 0

Pallas's muscles shuddered as he leapt from tree to tree. He'd finally found it. This was where he was going to live. He'd scouted out the tree from the ground- its trunk was just thick enough, its branches leveled nicely to where he could easily build a bridge between the two, right outside a hole in the near-dead pine. There was just too much good in one plant. Even nearby there was an old, dead stump he could stash his goods in! He didn't even have to trudge through the muck to get to the stump. It was just in jump length for the little mammal.

So, here he was, vines streaming off his body and a rough, sharp stone clutched in his teeth as he neared the tree again. It took him some time to find it again (the grove was nearly a maze!), but soon he was curled around the branch, his tail barely able to wrap around the thick of it. He'd left the rock in the hole nearby, easily within reaching distance. For now he had his back claws clutched on for dear life as he tried to use his clumsy paws to tie the thick vine around the wood.

There was probably a magic for this. Pallas didn't care. Magic was for chumps, something Pallas could do without.

--

Despite his frustrations with his digits, he was quick to pick up on a rhythm. The first vine was troublesome, yeah, but once he figured it out, he was soon to find some semblance of mastery over his little paws. He'd had them for six whole cycles, it was the least he could do to use them for something other than just running around like a little idiot.

He soon had all the vines he'd carried over tied between the two branches, creating a somewhat wobbly but stable porch for his den. It could definitely not hold anything more than the linsang. It was beginning to snap, even, at places. He'd have to strengthen it somehow, but for now, his mind was set on ending the day and heading to sleep. Hopefully everything would hold up fine while he was out as the lights ever so minutely lightened the cave.

day 1

Pallas woke in a funk, his long body curled in on itself and uncomfortably against the rock and rough surface of the hole in his tree. Just great. Waking up was definitely not something the mammal ever really looked forward to, but, hopefully, with this little place he'd be able to not worry about sleeping dangerously anymore.

He just had to get something to eat.

With a groan, Pallas turned over and stretched out his spine, shuddering as his nerves reconnected for the day. Well, he had to hunt- maybe he could grab some fish or something. A yawn escaped his maw as he crawled out over his vines. They were holding up nicely, thank the caves. Pallas gave a few test bounces. It seemed drying out seemed to hold them a little in place, but he could hear them straining under his paws.

He'd have to find something else to hold them with. Pallas stared up in thought as he mulled it over.

The answer was right above him. The tree was nearly dead- he could use the branches that seemed ready to pop off any moment. Those could be dry enough to secure between the vines, but for now, he had a belly to fill.

--

Practically half the day passed before Pallas was able to return to his abode, caked in mud from several unsuccessful hunts. Actually- with the mud dripping off of him, an idea came to him. He could use the mud to reinforce the vines, maybe! There was more than enough below the roots. That could even be a better idea than the branches- with the limbs, he ran the risk of falling and snapping something along with the branch. Instead, mud could dry into dirt and solidify against the vines.

What if it rained, though? Pallas's ear flicked as he scaled the tree, weary paws meeting the green of the plants. He could just work on his sleeping den today, too- that's what he'd brought the rock for, but the patio was a main priority.

And so, the linsang returned his attention to the mud and branches. Maybe he could use the smaller twigs and mud mixed together. It was already dripping onto the vines below. The branches could be weaved in- yes, that sounded perfect.

It didn't take long for Pallas to climb the tree and gather up some of the smaller branches, snapping them off and dropping them to the vines below. A few slipped through the cracks. That was fine. He could get them when he gathered the mud below, which was next on the docket list- it took longer, but he essentially just scooped up as much of it on his fur as he could, coming out looking like an absolute swamp monster. The errant branches were gathered in his trips, mud unloaded into the tree's cave along its trunk.

He was soon to get to work again, utilizing his paws to weave the branches between and laying thick mud in the gaps provided. Hopefully this would hold much better- it already seemed so, but time would tell how well it'd go. Thankfully, it didn't take long to actually finish, but it was a bit frustrating to figure out how to start. The dead sticks were so easy to break- Pallas had to go back and gather more almost halfway through.

Day was already breaking (or, at least, the equivalent in the caves) when the mammal finished, muscles tingling with frustration. It was a sloppy job, but it was done, at least. This would hold up.

Now, he just had to fix up his den. Extra, drying mud laid in the cracks and wormed into his fur as he paced in circles around his tool, ready to lay down for sleep. He'd have to worry about it tomorrow, as well as water- maybe some sort of mud pit would work, but...

No, it was time to turn off his brain. He had another day to tackle.

day 2

Pallas woke once more in a state of grumbling pain. The rock was thankfully not stuck into his side this time, but instead it was replaced with mud caking his body. As the linsang tried to stretch out, dirt cracked noisily and peeled off his fur. Ugh. He sniffled and swiveled his ears forward, blinking the sleep from his eyes. Another day, another job.

Pallas yawned wide as he stepped out of his hole. The patio was holding up very nicely, thankfully. With the mud dried, the sticks held up in place, weaved into security with the vines. The little Gembound grumbled as he got to work for the evening, the light just beginning to fade.

The rock was in reach of the little linsang. Discreetly, he reached over and grabbed it. It was time to take care of the pokey substances in the tree. First, though, the tool made quick work of the rest of the muck on Pallas's body. He didn't have to muddy up his paws more than they were. After he spent the good part of a few minutes just cleansing himself, he wormed back into the tree, rock in paw as he adjusted his place. He had to curl to properly fit without poking himself somewhere.

The Gembound huffed as he went to work, using the sharper edge of the rock to break out the stiff splintering wood. He'd have to find some nesting to avoid splinters, himself, but he made some progress on it before turning his attention to material. One step at a time, Pallas.

Time went by fast as he worked, neatly cleaning up the den for himself. He had his patio to rest on when he got frustrated (as he did to some extent) and to take a break on. It was comfortable enough- hopefully, his paws would wear it down into a flat surface later on. Nesting would help tremendously, too.

It sucked he had to scale the tree every time he wanted a drink, though. Maybe he could take some more plants from that other cave.. Eridanus? Pallas could swear that was the right name for it. Or, he could fashion himself another tool, something more complicated than just a rock.

For now, though, his search was on for some bedding. Over more than half the night was over for Pallas with most of it dedicated to den making and breaks. It was time to switch gears as the linsang scaled up the tree once more, craning his neck out to look over the nearby trees. He had to find some moss- he could remember some a bit away, right? Pallas's muscles twitched as he leaped from tree to tree, his goal in mind.

It didn't take him long to get to the gray substance. It was surprisingly dry and without bugs- well, that was a huge plus. Soon, he was returning to his abode and stuffing the material into the den, covering up any of the remaining pokey bits and generally making himself a great little home. The rest of his day went as such, a lot calmer than the two days before. Really, he was just about done. He even had some moss left over to hang over the side of the patio.

He just had to decorate the place and really make it a home.

day 3, pt. I

Pallas never had such a nice rest. He didn't have to scrabble for purchase at some tree, didn't have to worry about falling, didn't have to worry about waking up with a literal thorn in his side. Life was looking good in like, what, three days? A few worries still ate at Pallas, such as the idea of water and food, but, well. He could worry about that later. Right now, he had decorating to do, to give himself less of such a stress for the day.

And so, Pallas shimmied down his tree, and set off into the distance. He could find his way home, hopefully. Even with the mist starting to thicken up even more.

An ear flickered as he trudged through the waters, limbs sinking in every so often as he maneuvered his way. He could be in the trees- he SHOULD be in the trees. However, trees weren't where the best trinkets were.

Pallas's nose quivered as he continued on. Something was nearby. The linsang glanced around with dark eyes, looking for things out of place.

There. A scuff in the muck revealed itself, like an island among the dark, black waters. Carefully, Pallas trudged on over, mud dripping from his long body. He could almost drown in the water if it weren't for his long neck. Nothing came to bite at him, and yet he felt some sort of haste take his feet as he reached the minuscule island, breathing hard.

He paused for a moment, staring down into the fold. Something was sticking out. Ever so slowly, Pallas lifted his paw and shook it off before reaching gingerly in, retrieving the object in question. The surface was... Odd, as he retrieved it, black eyes taking in the object.

It was... A gemstone? Pallas sniffed at it, narrowing his eyelids. Curious.

day 3, pt. II

Alright. Well, he'd just gotten home, tourmaline in tow, when a bloody hybrid took it.

Whatever. Not like it was worth all that effort to get it. Now, he was in his den, empty handed and with no fancy decoration.

Pallas was in a funk. At least he had his patio made. He had to make that bucket, figure out how to filter water. Maybe that was more important than decorating, but the linsang still missed that shiny object. It would have looked nice.

Upset, Pallas curled into his carved out hole, trying to change his mind from the gem to focus on necessities. He could drink Cetus's waters, but one day he could just end up sick from it. No, he had to filter stuff out somehow. The question was, how? What was small enough to let water through and not dirt? His mind wandered this way and that as he thought over it, sharp claws picking at the edges of his den.

Wait. That new cave. It was full of sand; it'd be hot as heck, but the sand would filter out the smaller things, maybe. He'd have to stop the sand from falling out and let the water through. Was water thinner than sand? Maybe, maybe; his thoughts moved to his patio as he looked around. He could make a tub for the water over by the trunk, maybe, right outside the entrance of his den. That'd work, he'd just have to maybe dry some mud into a thin enough slit so the sand didn't fall out and only let water through. Maybe little pricks of his nails would work; that was thin enough to stop sand, right?

His tail flicked, though. He'd have to pick out the big stuff. He could put some clean rocks on top, maybe, to catch the big stuff before it hit the sand.

He'd also have to get sand. That'd mean devising a method of carrying things, of bringing back the substance. He could... Fashion a bag? He'd always eaten the guts and meat, maybe, of animals, but the skin, if tied right could be like a little pouch.

No, the stomach! It was perfect; it was already designed to be tough and hold food. He could use it to hold sand, or maybe even the water he purified! Pallas's tail thumped excitedly as he hopped up and out of his den, energy returning to him and previous encounter all but forgotten.

He'd eventually have a few mouse carcasses gathered in his den. The meat would be stored in the corner, while the skin and stomachs were left out to dry. Perfect. Licking his lips, he dug into the muscles and ate his fill before setting up the skins under rocks outside. He just had to figure out how to put them together. Maybe vine would work, like he did with his patio, but that might let water out. No matter- his priority was sand.

Satisfied with his hunting and with a full gut, Pallas drifted to sleep against his pile, ready to get started on another day.