Lean Meat [Solo Flashback]

[Lyner]

Day 25, Spring 508 AV Early Morning Foxhunt Beaches! Lyner looked to the sky, to the pale light of dawn peeking over the treetops and piercing through the woods halfheartedly. Their party of five marched deep into the woods, their footfalls a whisper on the dry husks of dead branches of winter's victims. It was the hour between rest and activity, the time when things both big and small stirred from their long slumber to go about their business. The woods near Syliras were rife with activity and according to Elder Roland, the senior hunter leading their group, this was the prime time for hunting. One of the boys in the five man team the seasoned hunter has assembled, Ron, the son of a well-to-do baker complained grudgingly as they forged ahead through thick bushes and uneven terrain. "Dunno why we 'ave to wake up so early though. Ain't like the deer's gonna be going anywhere." "Shh!" Elder Roland brought his index finger to his lips. "Don't go makin' too much noise lad. There's a good reason why we're huntin' at this hour." "Something to do with the lightning, I think?" Lyner offered helpfully. His cheery gaze was at sharp contrast to the sour grimaces that all his friends seemed to favor this morning but he seemed completely oblivious to the symphony of grunting around him. "Right ya are Lynne. Ideal lightin starts now and ends a few hours later. Ye don't want it to be so dark dat ya can't see yer prey and if the sun's up... well lad, they be able to see you even if yer creepin' up from a mile away." Roland reached to free and arrow from the quiver strapped to his back, a sure sign that he had probably spotted prey that his four other companions couldn't even spot. "How are we sure they're even here." the baker's son groaned again. Roland stopped, turned to look at the boy with sun-kissed hair and tapped his nose with a calloused index finger. "Smell that kid?" The boy reluctantly sniffed the air and he scowled in immediate displeasure. "Smells like shit." "Doesn't it," Roland smirked and tilted his chin twice north, a silent command for them to advance. "Ye be stepping on it." "Remember that lads, when ye spot dung ye know there be somethin' there makin' it. Same goes for paw and hoof tracks. Does take a bit more experience to know what sort of animal you be chasin with just their tracks or dung to figure... but that's why yer here ain'tcha lads, to get that experience." he stepped on the piece of manure, cracking it to reveal compacted feces and specks of green needle like protrusions. "This one be packed with leaves and grass, good sign that yer chasin' prey that." He pressed forward now, leading his crew to the prey lying in wait within. "Now follow me and be quiet 'bout it, we'll be gettin ourselves some yum yum or my name ain't Billy McWhatcherburly." One of the boys who'd remained quiet thus far, a raven-haired kid with sullen moon-shaped face shook his head fiercely at his friends and flashed them a rather disturbed look. "...I thought his name was Roland?" he silently asked his friends with simple lip movement. Ron shrugged and loaded his crossbow before following the man's lead. "Fuck if I know." Lyner had no idea either, but he was wearing the tunic of a senior hunter in the ranger's crew that'd set up shop in their neighborhood and did know his stuff... even if his breath smelled of halitosis.

[Lyner]

Roland or Billy, whoever he was, led the crew up on a gentle slope overlooking a small clearing in the forest. Not too far in the distance, perhaps thirty yards give or take a few, two deer were drinking from a cold stream and they were clearly unaware of the presence of the hunting crew that meant to turn them into breakfast, lunch and dinner. "Arrrrgh!" Roland crouched behind a bush for camouflage motioning for the boys to do the same. "Don'tcha be shootin' till ye see the whites of their eyes." Ron, who was starting to look more scared than annoyed at their lead hunter's increasingly exotic behavior felt that he had to hastily correct the man or lose easy prey. "But... Sir Billy... we're behind tem..." "Arrrgh...Errr....Right." the hunter licked his lips and ground his teeth and squeezed his longbow tensely. "Lyner, Ron, the boy with the black hair and eyebags... aim fer the one on tha left. Me and Elrick-" "It's Fredrick sir..." the chubby boy with the horrible cropped hair interrupted, sounding offended. "Fredrick, whatever, we'll be markin' the one on da right. We all shoot on da coun'ta five. Agreed?" All four boys nodded and took their positions. Lyner was no slouch with the bow. He had experience and was a pretty good shot in his own self assessment, but he'd never really practiced on live prey and uneven footing before. Frederick had some experience hunting on horseback and was arguably the best of them. Ron was also a fair aim... Ulric, the sullen boy... was horrible with the bow and arrow but was a prodigy with the throwing javelin. They were bound to kill something with this many archers aiming for the same targets Lyner thought confidently. He exhaled softly, allowing the tension from his body to seep away and he cleared his thoughts from all the distractions and the bad smell coming from the body odor of their senior hunter. Lyner visualized the line of target, arranged his feet so that his toes were in line with the arrow's shaft spacing them a shoulder's width apart. Carefully, he drew his right foot back just five inches, maybe slightly more and felt his way into a comfortable posture. "Five." Taking a serrated arrow from his friend's quiver, he nocked it's unto the middle of the bowstring while allowing it's polished length on the curve of the bow itself. He was glad that he'd taken time to actually choose which arrows to bring, he favored arrows that were fletched with right wing feathers. He was always a better shot with those since he'd grown accustomed to the clockwise rotation. "Four." The retired Syliran knight who'd taught him how to shoot with the longbow and arrow told him to avoid using straight fletched arrows. The lack of spin reduced accuracy, arrows that traveled in a spiral tended to be more accurate as the spiral motion acted like a gyroscope. While Lyner didn't know what a gyroscope was the knight had the insight to put a round wooden bead inside a bottle of wine and filled it with water. When he opened the cork and added a spin with a twist of his hand, a strange vortex... or vacuum appeared drawing the marble out of the thing emphasizing the guiding power of spiral movement.

[Lyner]

With familiar ease Lyner adjusted the shaft on the bow above the his hand's secure grip and prepared to draw the bowstring. With three fingers he held the string and carefully eased the nock of the arrow between his index, middle finger and finally thumb to prevent it from becoming misaligned. "Three." He locked his left arm firmly with his will, elbows angling slightly outwards before he tilted his eyes on the target. He concentrated on his meal, on the basic of the basics of archery. He didn't need complicated techniques for this, he just had to rely on his training. Lyner raised the bow, drew his bowstring all the way to his chin with it's feathers brushing lightly at the edge of his lips. He felt the slight ache of his back, of his shoulders and arm straining. "Two." He locked unto his target with his eyes, holding his breath. "One..." everyone was silent, save for their lead hunter's voice that seemed so much louder in this thick tension. "Fire!" Arrows flew far and fast, hissing in the air as they covered a large arc. Everyone remained silent, watching with bated breath until those projectiles they released ended up being buried deep into the tender flesh of their respective targets. Overkill some would call it, but the boys cheered at their first successful kill. Their leader however shook his head firmly, hissing at them. "Not too much noise lads! There be wolves aprowl..." "What?!" the boys gasped in chorus. All save for Lyner who was distracted by something pale moving behind the hazy silhouettes and shadows on the other side of the clearing. "Uh... Guys... I think I saw something white there..." his tone was uncertain but he was positive despite Billy's warning. "Could be just a rabbit? More meat right?" "Are you suuuuure you aren't seeing things?" asked a now anxious Ron. In all the time Ron had known Lyner he couldn't remember the boy deceiving anyone. He was silly, did crazy things when taken by the mood but he rarely cracked jokes like this and he certainly wouldn't be making one in bad taste, especially when it was ruining a chance for celebration. "Where'd you see it?" Fredrick's mood darkened and his grin was instantly turned on it's head. He was quick to knock an arrow in his bow and Ron following his friend's lead swiftly.

[Lyner]

"I'm not certain, but I think I saw it right there, by the... uh..." he couldn't say tree without having his head smacked now could he? But they all looked the same and there weren't and identifiable markers he could use to denote which tree he was talking about. It wasn't even remarkably tall or pitifully short, it was just like the few other million or trees in the forest. "How about I shoot at the tree?" Ron looked at the clearing, their fallen prey and the jagged treeline at the edge of that patch of grassland. "I dunno, you might rouse those wolves." "How about you use this?" Fredrick interrupted the conversation with his own proposition. He held aloft a thin arrow with unusual grooves and markings. "Whistling arrow, could scare it away..." "Or do the opposite." the raven boy didn't sound thrilled by the idea either. The senior ranger who'd been silent throughout the exchange of the young boys joined their circle, crouching down with his strangely energetic eyes to impart his opinion. "Movin targets ain't easy 'ta kill, ye be in a world 'af trouble tryin' to shoot down 'em wolves if ye try doin' it there be down in 'ta clearin. No harm in 'a playin' it safe. Better they be chasin' us on our own terms, there be space a'plenty 'tween here and there." he patted Lyner's shoulder and stood up to face the clearing. "Ordinary arrow, just one Lier." Lyner didn't really care so much about what the man called him so he was less offended about the mistake than his buddies. With the silent assent of his peers he looked for a good position with as level ground as he could find and lined himself up with his target. He held the bow firmly, slid the notch of the arrow in the string's center and knocked it back and aimed. "Wait!" the senior hunter hissed and cupped a hand to his ear. Lyner hesitated and he heard the rustling of leaves and branches. A strong gust of wind plowed through the clearing preventing Lyner from shooting right away. He didn't want to waste the arrow. A shot with this much wind would easily be misled. "Think we're good to go now."

[Lyner]

Lyner lined up the shot, accounted for the spin of the arrow and released the drawstring as soon as he felt no air kissing his skin. The bow sang and the arrow raced fiercely, cutting through the air in an arc that would lead to what he hoped would be a relatively accurate shot. But even though the arrow flew true, his skill was not polished. The arrow did strike something, but it was no tree. The arrow fell a few meters short of the treeline. "Five meters ahead of the arrow, slightly to the left, that's where I saw it." The others craned their necks and their javelin-wielding companion even hoisted himself up a low hanging branch and climbed up some ways to inspect the area around the landing area. "Maybe it was a rabbit...?" Ron offered in a bid to seek some reassurance. Frederick was still skeptical but the tall boy grew impatient. "I think we should just go get our kill and bolt," he rubbed his fingers together. "Anyone with me?" At least three hands snapped into the air but Lyner was hesitant, he felt like they needed the approval of the lead hunter who was being ominously quiet. "If Billy thinks its fine... he was the one who said there might be wolves." he looked at the ranger and the other boys did too. The man didn't seem to be paying attention to their conversation, he didn't actually seem to be even moving. Billy just stood there, leaning forward a boot resting on a gnarled root and his hands fiddling with something inside his coat pockets. "There be wolves lads, but they be sleepin'" Ron's brows bunched together and his sharp jab told all his friends that his patience was running ragged. "You said they we're aprowl!" The ranger tipped his hat's brim up with his thumb and flashed them a disturbing broken toothed smile. "Bad choice of words arrrgh! Lets be on 'ar way down then." the ranger sprung forward, hopping down the slope with impressive speed and coordination. The boys let out a collective sigh and they followed the middle-aged man down and though they were young, they didn't dare leap from rock to rock. They were old enough to know the danger of spraining yourself in careless haste. Lyner hoped that the meat would sell well. Maybe the bones too, there were always people who used them bones for carvings and the like. He drew his jacket up and followed the trail Ron and Frederick were making. Behind him, his raven-haired friend whispered something that he had to agree with. "I swear he's mental that one."

[Lyner]

From a distance, it was easy to think that they'd shot down average sized deer. Up close it looked like they'd actually scored themselves a pretty impressive bounty. Something that was both blessing and curse. The poles they'd brought to tie the carcasses to so they could transport them off the soil and avoid dragging them against ground and dirt snapped. They were heavier than they looked and it seemed that they were going to need more wood than this if they wanted to haul the two bags of fur, flesh and bones back to the wagon. And that was why they'd been separated into pairs to gather long and strudy sticks... except for the old ranger who volunteered to do nothing and sit by their prize and guard it. Nobody was particularly happy about that but Lyner didn't really care enough to get annoyed. He just wanted to finish their business here as soon as possible. If they were quick like, it wasn't out of the question for their party to be able to get back to Syliras before sunset. Lyner had been paired up with Todd, the sullen faced boy with the eye-bags who's company he actually preferred over the boastful Fredrick and the short-tempered Ron. Todd usually kept to himself but was patient and rarely complained so long as everyone was getting the same treatment or was doing their part. Maybe it was because Elder Roland, or Billy... had decided to take advantage of his seniority to skip the tiring job of finding adequately long branches to carry their kill that the Zeltivan was grumbling. "You'd think we'd find some good strong sticks in the forest but noooo... How's your luck over there Lyner?" The Syliran shook his head and moved to another collection of shrubs to no avail. "I think we're going to have to go back and cut that low lying branch. Did you bring that machete?" "I did." he adjusted the sheathe at his hip and drew out the battered cleaver. "It kind sucks though, warped and a little rusty." Todd was swinging the thing experimentally and led the way back, hacking and cutting at various plant-life along the trail without real reason. "If it'll cut without snapping I'm willing to take it." Lyner suggested. Todd chuckled and shook his head. "Still worth a couple or so mizas." When they finally reached the branch Lyner backed away giving the Zeltivan free space to do his thing. He hacked away at the branch, cleaving it five times before it finally fell on the soil completely. Todd knelt down beside the piece of fallen wood, chipping away with the stray budding branches before testing it's flexibility and strength. He tossed it over for Lyner to do the same and when it passed his standards he started movign back to the clearing. "Well, lets go." Lyner set their newly obtained pole against the tree's trunk and grabbed the weeping stump of the branch they'd cut out. "Wait up, going to get a bit of this?" Todd gave Lyner a quizzical look. "What are you doing?" "Collecting resin." he brought the branch lower and produced a half-filled bottle of water from his bag. He drank down the little that what was left and positioned the mouth of the thing below the bleeding stump. "Good stuff this, they told me it helps open wounds from getting infected. Also helps fire burn. Never had a wound big enough to test it on but I've used it once before for starting a fire. It's a shade less effective than oil at helping an ember flare up." "Give me a little bit of that when we get back to the city, might come in handy." "Sure sure." Lyner stepped back from the branch. He was glad he'd washed that empty bottle of swill, wrapped it in a tight web of wicker rope and brought it along with him. It'd probably be useful for awhile.

[Lyner]

The pair were making their way back to the clearing at a comfortable pace when they both picked up the unmistakable sound of someone shouting coming from the direction of the clearing. Realizing something was up the two immediately raced to the scene. What they found upon reaching the edge of the clearing were wolves, a lot of them, an entire pack of at least ten. Lyner frowned, they shouldn't have been awake this hour of the day but they were and they didn't seem to be inclined to go back to sleep anytime soon. The senior hunter was shooting at the wolves, running and leaping about to avoid the pair of really big grey ones that were trying to get a bite off from him. Ron was a bloody mess, he was clutching his arm tightly and was crying pitifully in a pool of his own blood. Frederick... the arrogant boy was dead, or Lyner hoped he was since one of the smaller wolves were munching down on his leg. Lyner's face wore that rare serious look that he had only showed to his friends a couple of times in the years they'd known the boy. He lifted his bow, straightened it and knocked an arrow into the string. "I'm going to start shooting, if you don't want to get involved run the opposite way as hard as you can." "And leave you to be a hero?" the Zeltivan dropped the case containing his javelins and he picked one up and tossed it into the air without giving Lyner a moment to speak. Emboldened by this friend's camaraderie the Syliran allowed arrows to fly as fast and as accurately as he could launch them. A javelin impaled one of the mutts that had leapt to bite Ron's neck in mid-air causing the thing to slump uselessly in the ground. Arrows rained down where Frederick's body lay and Lyner noticed his quiver growing light and fast. Besides the one who's leg he'd struck with a fluke, they'd only really killed one wolf with a javelin. There were still eight of them and they were no longer ignorant of the two new humans who'd stumbled into the scene. Todd threw another Javelin and it actually impaled one of the five wolves rushing towards them in the eye socket. An impressive feat. "How many arrows do you still have?" Lyner didn't dare look back at his quiver, he just touched the shafts of the remaining arrows behind him for a moment longer than was necessary to make a rough estimate. "Five, not counting this one." Todd tossed another javelin that missed. "I've only got two javelins left. I'm not as good at fighting with these up close." Todd informed his friend regretfully. "Lets run in opposite directions, we don't risk coming back until we get help, got it?" Lyner nodded and Todd made a break for the woods to his right. Lyner likewise went the opposite direction... and then a moment of inspiration hit him. He slung the bow over his shoulder and started climbing a tree.

[Lyner]

Perhaps he could blame the adrenaline, or it could be the urgency of his need to save Ron and old Billy, but Lyner didn't just escape. He shouted like a madman, taunting the wolves as he climbed up the tree, grabbing branch after branch, bruising and scratching himself everywhere just so he could maneuver around the branches and avoid snapping his bow. With great effort he was able to find a branch thick enough to support his entire weight and he wrenched himself unto it. There were four of the grey-pelted bastards below him. He had five arrows. If he could kill these ones he could still save Ron... or he hoped he could. Perching himself up into a comfortable slouch he eased an arrow into his bow, an extremely difficult task when he didn't have the luxury of freely moving his arms back without careful consideration of his limited space and aimed straight below. A young wolf was barking at him, clawing up the tree and jumping up to reach him. Lyner replied with a shot that went straight into the thing's open maw. The thing fell, no doubt it was going to suffer and die from internal bleeding. He cursed the wolves again loudly to get their attention and was rewarded with a chorus of howls and growls. He knocked another arrow into the string and aimed straight down only to miss as he let loose a stray shot towards one of the dogs that had almost climbed up to where he was. He shook his head, scolding himself for that mistake. He only had three arrows there were still that many wolves below. This time Lyner forced his thoughts to the basics. He sat down, letting a leg dangle barely out of reach to act as bait for the mutts. He held his bow straight and firm, knocked an arrow allowing the shaft to rest above his left hand. He breathed slowly, pinching the arrow's tail and string, drawing it all the way back until his shoulders started hurting. Then he released the arrow. There was so much tension in his draw that when the arrow punctured his target, it did with enough force to go through the thing's hind leg and out the other and an awkward angle. Seeing two of their companions dead, the remaining two whimpered and ran. Lyner leaned back, catching his breath and waited until his body unwound from the stress. There was no point in coming to save his friends if he was in no condition to save them. He'd learned that when he almost drowned in his attempt to save Fredrick from drowning himself when they were kids. When the ambient noise for the forest became subdued Lyner eased down unto the ground and crushed the throat of the still living but ailing wolf he'd last shot with a solid kick to the windpipe. He had two more shots left. He retraced his steps back to the clearing vowing to make them count.

[Lyner]

When Lyner finally returned to the clearing he had no words for the nonsensical climax of the battle between of Elder Roland and the wolves. Lyner had honestly been dreading, but expecting to see the man dead. He and Todd had trouble facing the wolves with the advantage of distance and their numbers on their side. Roland was barely keeping himself from getting mauled when they left that he was sure the man would've been bitten by now. But Roland was still standing there with his head thrown back to the sky, uninjured. Beneath his feet, two charred hound-like corpses burned brightly. The man seemed completely ignorant of the raging circle of flame around him that was quickly building into a blazing inferno. Lyner couldn't comprehend the situation. They didn't leave a campfire behind and there was no way any of the two, Ron or Roland could spare time to make a fire whilst they were under attack. The Syliran stepped forward unto the clearing, he looked around trying to find Frederick's corpse or Ron but he couldn't find them. Lyner raised his voice so the senior hunter could hear him over the sound of the roaring flames and snapping wood. "Roland? Are you okay? What happened to Ron?" The hunter looked at Lyner from behind the veil of fire. His eyes were bright with strange activity but the lethargy in his movements and the haunting look of his face almost made him appear heartbroken. "Ran away..." he wailed pitifully. "The boy ran away, left me to die! Who are you?" "Wait..." now it was Lyner's turn to be confused. Was Ron in any condition to save Elder Roland anyway? "...what?" "Its me Roland," he waved frantically. "Lyner! Get out of there, you're going to burn." Roland bowed his head, then he seemed to be whispering to himself. His eyes danced from left to right and he seemed to be discussing something with... nobody in particular. Lyner was actually starting to grow uncomfortable. The heat, the smoke and the strange behavior of the ranger was causing goosebumps to form on his skin. Whatever it was that happened here, there was only one person who could be responsible for this unnatural explosion of fire. "Roland?" The senior hunter turned on his heel, a pointed finger snapping suddenly at Lyner's way accusingly. Roland looked at him, studied him and ultimately scowled at him. "They sent you! They must have sent you boy! But you will not succeed, mark my words!" Roland waved fingers retracted like talons dramatically in front of Lyner and tongues of flames erupted around the boy, forcing him into retreat. Lyner ran, he jumped into the shrubs and saw a sheet of fire flow over him, grazing the top of his head, burning the fringes of his cap. Whatever Roland was, only two things were clear. He was a wizard who commanded fire and the other was that he now regarded Lyner as hostile. The Syliran clutched his breast, feeling his heart beating fiercely. If he didn't get out of here he was going to die. A few meters beside him, he heard the rush of flame scorching plant-life and the ray of fire was sweeping in his direction. Lyner crouched down and kicked himself into motion just in time to avoid the billowing cloud of red hot plasma. Lyner could hear the hurried steps of Roland fast on his tail. The man was laughing, cursing and ridiculing him. "Ha! You cannot kill me, better men have tried!" 'I'm not even thinking about it!' Lyner thought while he struggled to keep his pace against the uneven terrain and treacherous roots and branches covering the forest floor like a carpet.

[Lyner]

For a madman who looked haggard Roland was surprisingly quick on his feet. At forty he was no old geezer after all, while no one could deny that the man was past his prime his nimble movements earlier was enough evidence that he was still capable of putting up a fight, or running a marathon in the forest. "Those Sahovans failed and you won't be able to stop me either! No meddling teenager or their dog can stop my schemes for world domination." The man had gone insane. Lyner had already suspected that Roland's mental health wasn't in top form but he didn't think the man was actually on the verge of losing his ability to separate fantasy and reality. But thinking about that wasn't going to help him here. Running and staying one step ahead of those violent plumes of flame was his priority. Lyner moved forward, his feet a blur against soil as he ducked behind one tree to another in order to avoid that scorching projection of heat. Somehow, from shooting deers to dogs he now had to consider the probability that he might have to kill this man too. But it wasn't going to be easy, not with this unrelenting attack of stretching fire. He needed to create the opportunity for a shot. He had to lure the man into a position that afforded him a chance to find his footing, aim, nock his arrow and draw his bowstring. Lyner couldn't ask for more than that and wasn't sure if he could even hope for a clear shot. Lyner looked ahead, then behind him at the man who's palms were blazing with orbs of floating flame. Drawing Roland into a false sense of complacency was what he had to do, even mad like this the man was being cautious. The amount of fire the mage was throwing Lyner's way was meant to keep the boy off-balance and though Lyner aware of it, he couldn't do anything about it just yet. While Lyner kept running, ducking below sharp branches and rolling to avoid imminent frying he did notice that there was a rhythm between each blast of flame... or perhaps it was how long it took him to prepare his spells. Whatever it was, Lyner was going to use that weakness and time his movements accordingly. After a volley of fire and with some loose idea of the timing between the jets of flame Lyner sprung from behind a tree and sprinted to the next nearest pine in open sight. Knowing that the boy was going to take cover at the next nearest tree, Roland summoned a barrage of flame darts igniting the area around that tree trunk. The man almost laughed but was gravely disappointed when Lyner didn't smash himself into fiery oblivion. Lyner had counted on the man's experience. By anticipating the calculated attack of the hunter, the Syliran made it his goal to change his direction of movement dramatically. By ducking low to increase his stability and grabbing a gnarled root that could serve as an anchor and fulcrum to change his direction, Lyner managed to turn and keep his speed's momentum. The roar of frustration behind Lyner lifted his spirits a little. He took advantage of the gap he'd created between him and the hunter to get further away from Roland but he knew it would be impossible to shake the man. Not when he was as good as tracking prey as all senior hunters were.