A hunting we will go (Nathaniel Deveraux)

[Timshel]

32nd, Fall 513 Timshel bent low to the stream, picking out a smooth, fist-sized stone to place in his pouch next to his slingshot. It was perhaps the 33rd length of moving water he'd seen since leaving Eyktol. Water, sitting above a ground so saturated that instead of sinking-- it moved. Rushing and gushing so that it carved its own path through the world. The stones that Timshel picked out had no chance of ever stopping the water. Already they had been beaten and worn-- smooth and pleasant to touch, now. They were ready for another purpose-- like hurling at high speeds towards small-to-mid-sized game. He stood up, looking behind him. The tall, colorful flags from the biggest pavilion tents still blew high above the grass. Timshel pulled out a piece of parchment from his sleeve and marked this new river, just a short trot from the outskirts of camp. He looked up at the sun, still high in the sky. He tried to measure its distance from the grass with his fingers. About three. The river was about three full fingers of sunlight from camp. Timshel sighed looking at his sketch. He had to rewrite his map every week to keep up with how often the camp moved. Endrykas was centered. All around he had sketched seemingly random landmarks. A river here, a smattering of trees there. A patch of dead grass next to a spectacularly set up, and failed set of marked traps. None of these things were more than eight fingers away from camp. Any farther than eight fingers and the tent-flags would begin to dip beneath the grass. And Timshel had only explored alone. ... Timshel followed the river, trotting on Jas and noting the natural paths in the field. Small divots that could simply be from a pocket of wind, poor soil, or perhaps, prey. Everything has to drink. He paused at a particularly large depression of flattened grass, across the river and extending back about 12 feet or so before tapering off into the wild. Maybe not all paths led to good things. Finally he came to a smaller dent. Smaller than Timshel and much smaller than Jas. He trotted past it, ignoring it all-together. Just ahead of him was a tree. It was there that he dismounted and tied off Jas. Then he zig-zagged his way back to where he thought the path was. Timshel's stomach grumbled. Nothing big and meaty was going to come this close to the city without reason, but maybe, just maybe something smaller would.

[Nathaniel Deveraux]

Hunting was always a dangerous prospect in unfamiliar territory. If Nate hadn't been bored to tears sitting around he might not have been inclined to do what he was planning to do: go out hunting alone without anyone to assist or guide him. It was a dangerous prospect, and he was well aware of the multitude of issues with his plan. Beyond the problem of navigation there was the issue of lack of knowledge of the predators that almost certainly stalked these lands. Lack of familiarity with what could eat you was a leading cause of death among hunters in Syliras and Nate had absolutely no desire to count himself among their number. But still, the call of the hunt was strong, and it would give him something to think about instead of just stewing in his tent, angry thoughts clouding his mind.

He was not going to stray very far from the tent city. Given Nate's own admitted lack of navigational ability it would be foolhardy in the extreme for him to go that far out without a guide, at least until he gained at least passable familiarity with the surrounding area. Not that Nate was particularly interested in gaining any familiarity with this area; if he could help it he wouldn't be around long enough to need to.

But years as a hunter had taught Nate several things and one of them was that there was a lot one could tell about people based on how they acted. And the confidence of the Drykas spoke volumes: if they'd feared their prisoners escaping they'd have taken far more serious steps to prevent it. Which meant that there was likely something that allowed them either to keep track of their quarry or else to ensure they could not go far.

Nate hefted his short bow and plodded out, hunter's eyes scanning the ground and sky for anything that might point toward something that could be hunted. In truth, even if he couldn't find any animals there was always the possibility of gathering herbs although his lack of familiarity with the region meant that only the most basic of plants could be safely harvested. Frustration crept up Nate's chest and he growled, kicking a nearby rock and sending it skittering off to the side. Every path blocked. Every avenue cut off. He had no chance, no choice, and everyone around him seemed to want him to just accept his new position without question.

Realizing that making that much noise was not going to help him hunt anything, Nate sighed and returned his attention to the area around him. Looking back to make sure the tents of Endrykas was still within view, he peered at the ground to see if there were any tell-tale signs of life. Tracks out here, if they existed, were likely to be old; no creature larger than a beaver would be likely to venture this closely to the city. Deer tended to prefer large, vast open areas where they could easily spot oncoming prey, and elk or buffalo tended to move in large herds, so the signs of their passing would be very clear, and Nate did not see such signs in the dirt and grass that was presented to him.

The possibility of rabbits was certainly a good one, but no degree of archery was going to allow him to hit the fast little petchers; he'd tried that once before and it really didn't work very well. He was quite certain it would take a master archer to actually hit a rabbit with an arrow and on top of it all, that would likely damage the pelt to an unsuitable degree. But perhaps if he could find traces of them, he could construct pit traps that might be more successful in catching them.

So Nate bent down lower to the ground, looking for signs of recent rabbit activity. He didn't know if rabbits resided in Cyphrus or not, but their activity was likely to produce the same tracks: semicircular sections of grazed grass, spreading out in a fan-shape that would define the territory that the rabbits would usually roam. The nest would likely be close-by, but well-hidden with foliage and dirt. But half a bell of walking didn't bring up any such signs and Nate was close to giving up when he noted a large depression of flattened grass. That caught his attention because something must have flattened the grass: if it was a herd then it might still be close-by.

The depression, however, did not appear to be recent. The grass had already dried in the form it already was and there was dirt that had covered sections of it, implying that at least a few days had passed since this formation occurred. And there weren't tracks that Nate could see that lead to or away from the depression so it stood to reason that had there been any tracks, they were wiped out by wind, water, or some combination of the two.

Deciding there wasn't much more he could glean, Nate stood back up and looked a bit further up. There was a tree and a smaller depression and a man standing there, a horse tied off to a nearby tree, peering at what looked to be an old game trail. It was not usually fruitful to follow game trails without a plan; they could lead anywhere and usually didn't bring you any closer to animals than if you simply trapped the path or waited near it for game to appear.

Nate approached the man with a quizzical expression on his face. He didn't look Drykas, which already raised him several levels in Nate's eyes, but what was he doing out here? If he was hunting, he seemed to be looking at the wrong things. Trotting up, he coughed gently and asked, "Hey there! You out here to hunt too?"

[Timshel]

Timshel continued staring down along the small path in front of him. Little heaps of dirt had matted the grass, dry and old. He squatted down and picked up one clod, breaking it between his fingers. The broken dirt felt cool and moist in his hands. No wonder the grass grew so thick here. Ahead of him, the path disappeared into a thicket. He had yet to see any sign of an animal. Not even the caw of a crow or snap of a twig. Yet Timshel had seen the Drykas walk into camp with lines of rabbits lashed to stakes. His stomach growled. How did they do it? He broke another earth-clod in his hand, smelling it. Slowly, he stuck out the tip of his tongue out-- and licked it. Gross! He spat the dirt out. He hadn't learned anything. ... “Hey there! You out here to hunt too?” Timshel shot up, wiping dirt from his mouth and waving, “Aha! Yes, yes... hunting,” Timshel said, rubbing the back of his neck and laughing, “I'm here to hunt.” In front of him and out of the grass, a man had popped out. He was tall, about Timshel's height. Skinny, with a short-cropped amber beard to match his darker hair and eyes. He was wearing a simple cloak and pants, and carrying a bow in his right hand. Timshel eyed it. Suddenly, between the bow and it's string, Timshel saw the grass move. A rabbit sprung out from beneath the grass blades, hopped a small runoff from the stream behind them and kept on going. “There!” Timshel immediately ran past the man in front of him and took off. He reached for one of the stones in his pouch, fumbling it as he ran. The rabbit was farther now, heading towards a taller patch of grass. Eyes on the animal, Timshel misplaced the stone in the pocket of his sling. It slipped out, and Timshel had to reach into his pouch for another one. He stopped, carefully loading it this time in the center. When he looked up, the rabbit was gone. Spinning his sling, Timshel watched the grass in front of him. He was breathing heavy now and he could feel the cord in his hand ripple with each heart-beat. The tips of the grass gently bent in the breeze. All except one patch, which defied the others and shook, as if tickled by some inside joke. Timshel let his stone fly, soaring past and wholly missing the tickled clump of grass. Timshel cursed and spat before hearing the CRACK of rock-on-rock. The rabbit shot out again, heading back towards the stream. Timshel looked back at the man from before. He pointed. “There, man! Shoot it!” he said.

[Nathaniel Deveraux]

"There!" Nate had already spun around when he heard the rustle. Strange, that a rabbit would even be here. It was unusual for the furry little creatures to be outside its usual grazing grounds as Nate knew that rabbits tended to be very skittish creatures that preferred to stay close to their burrows. Perhaps this was a field rabbit, also known as a hare. They were very similar species but had some differences, mainly in size and the fact that, as Nate understood it, Hares tended to be a bit bolder.

But no, as he spun around to see what the man was pointing at he noticed that the size belied a regular rabbit. Well, that's what it appeared to be as it scurried for the tall grass, the man behind him seemingly fumbling for something in his pocket as Nate quickly readied an arrow to his bow. He knew it would be pointless; neither of them were liable to hit the tiny creature unless this man were a masterful shot with that sling of his, but at least they could try, and later if they could find the runs the rabbit in question frequented they could maybe dig some pit traps along the runs and get lucky the next day. Hunting was, after all, ninety percent waiting. And the other ten percent was wishing you were still waiting.

Nate didn't bother shooting into the grass as the rabbit ran into it. He'd tried to do that many years ago and all it really accomplished was losing an arrow for no good reason. Rabbits were easily frightened and walking them tended to be a better way to flush them out, but in this instance simply waiting seemed to do the trick. The grasses were still for a few chimes and Nate could hear the whirling of the man's sling as he swung it in preparation to fire the missile from it, and Nate himself looked down to ensure the nocking of the arrow was correct, and then drew it halfway while bringing up the bow.

There wasn't very long for him to wait as the grass rustled again, the rabbit inside clearly getting nervous about the lack of movement. The man behind him sent this missile flying, which Nate honestly thought was a waste of a stone but who was he to judge, and it sailed into the tall grass with a loud "thwack", clearly hitting some rock or other inside. That was sufficient to frighten the small animal out of hiding and into the open where it dashed off toward the stream. An odd choice; rabbits tended to run from cover to cover; they rarely stayed out in the open like this unless they had nowhere else to go. Perhaps that was in the direction of the burrow.

"There man! Shoot it!" Nate shot the other man an odd look, as though asking him what the petch he was talking about. A target that small, moving that fast... he might as well have asked Nate to shoot the wings off a fly. Still, there wasn't any reason to let a potential meal just scurry off without at least trying to hit it, so he drew the arrow back, lifting his arm and sighting down the shaft of the arrow, trying to place the shot slightly in front of the frightened animal.

With a huff of breath he released the missile, which flew straight and true and missed the rabbit by about two inches. The rabbit continued to scurry toward the riverbed and Nate chased after it, legs pounding down the path as he leaned down to scoop up his arrow that had embedded itself in the soft earth. He wasn't trying to catch the rabbit, it was much too fast for that, but if he could find where it was going it was possible he could discover the normal grazing grounds for the nest, and that meant he could potentially set up a few traps that might bear fruit the next time he came out here.

[Timshel]

"There man! Shoot it!" The man raised a raised an eyebrow at his shout, but Timshel simply gestured harder. The man turned, pulled his bow back and let his arrow fly-- missing by just a few inches. The rabbit continued onwards. It was getting away. Timshel sprinted behind the man, dodging him as he slowed a bit to scoop up his arrow. "Good shot," he said, passing by, "Pretty close." The rabbit had veered left into the brush that grows close to the water. Timshel continued on, following the 'tickled' blades. It was getting away. It was still running! Still running... Still running? Timshel stopped, breathing hard and leaning his hands on his knees. His legs throbbed, and his body used the moment's rest to release a new flood of sweat down his forehead and neck. A short breeze rushed through the brush and passed over him. The cool air helped ease the darkness that momentarily threatened to cover Timshel's vision, and it also rustled both the grass and brush next to him. He turned to look behind him. The tent flags were gone. Jas was no where in sight. The other man... Where was the other man? “Hey! You there?” he called.

[Nathaniel Deveraux]

OOCSoooo sorry this is so late! NaNo's been crazy, man. I'm back in the game now

Nate could have told the other man not to chase the rabbit too far out, but then it would be rather hypocritical of him to do that since he was doing the exact same thing. It was a mistake he'd made all too often in Syliras; chasing one's prey so far out that by the time you caught up to it, you found yourself utterly, completely lost. Well, OK. That might just be Nate. He did have a tendency to get lost. It wasn't his fault, really! It was just that the woods were confusing. And the city. And the surrounding countryside. And the roads... OK fine, he might have a teensy problem with navigation.

It wasn't even entirely unreasonable either. Nate simply didn't have a very strong sense of direction, and while hunting he tended to gain tunnel vision; his sight only focused on the target ahead and not taking into consideration the surrounding area. And while he was observant enough to usually be able to locate and recognize landmarks, the problem was the fact that you still needed to have a mental map in your head of where those landmarks were in relationship to one another.

The problem was, right now, Nate did not recognize anything around him. When he'd gone off after the man, who in turn took off to chase the rabbit, he had once again developed that tunnel vision. Didn't notice they had both run willy-nilly into a completely unknown area. By the time he had caught up he noticed that they were now somewhere utterly unrecognizable and the recognizable (Nate refused to consider the them familiar) tents of Endrykas were nowhere to be seen.

This was bad. This was very, very bad. If they got caught by some sort of predator out here, the weren't likely to get any help. Unbeknownst to Nate, that probably wasn't true. They were no more than forty-five chimes out from the city, and well within the Web. Any major predator would have been sensed immediately and the Watch probably dispatched to prevent it from getting too much closer to Endrykas. Nate did not know any of that, of course. And even if he did, he'd have been utterly convinced the Drykas would never bother to rescue him. He was an expendable captive, after all.

"Oh, this is just perfect," he groused, as he looked around him. The rabbit was gone, the city nowhere in sight, he didn't know where they were, and the man was still obviously looking to do some hunting, if his body language and demeanor was any indication. Didn't he realize that they might want to know where they were, first?

"I'm over here!" Nate called, when the other man began asking if he was still there. Nate trotted up to the man, squinting at the grass and brush surrounding them. If the rabbit had gone into the bushes it wasn't likely to come out again, and they didn't have the tools to go after it if it had retreated to its burrow. He hoped there might be some other quarry out here; this far out they might actually get some larger game. At least so he hoped. At the very least it would mean their entire day hadn't been wasted.

"Well, the rabbit's gone," Nate observed. He could've slapped himself. No, really? What had been his first clue? "I know a bit of tracking, I could try to see if there's any other game around. But, uhhh, I don't really know where we are. I saw you writing before... you a cartographer or something?"

Nate realized he was probably being a bit rude. After all, he was asking this guy all these questions and he hadn't even introduced himself. The man did not look to be Drykas, which already made him alright in Nate's book.

"The name's Nathaniel Deveraux, by the way," he explained by way of introduction, "but, uhh, please call me Nathan. I know that can be a bit of a mouthful, anyways. So who are you? And why are you all the way out here?"

x

[Timshel]

OOCMy deepest apologies. Let's just not talk about how long this took. I'll be posting every day now Timshel took a a couple deep breaths to steady his breathing. In and out. Slowly. When he was done, his breathing was even, but he could still feel his heart pounding against his rib-cage. He ran his hands through his hair. He was cooling down now. His sweat began to feel sticky on his back. The other man was talking. “...you a cartographer or something?” “What's a cartographer?” Timshel said. He straightened up, grinning. He opened his mouth to elaborate when the man went on. “The name's Nathaniel Deveraux by the way... So who are you? And why are you all the way out here?” “Why am I out here? Same as you, Nat! I followed dinner here,” Timshel said, raising his eyebrows, “I think we lost it, though... My name's Timshel. Nice to meet ya.” Satisfied, Timshel gave himself a little circle. He turned to take in the rolling waves of grass around them. The wild had overcome both the flags at the tops of the tents and hidden any sign of the stream he was stooping over when he had seen the rabbit. Timshel looked over at his new friend and sighed. He reached into his sleeve and pulled out the piece of parchment he'd been scribbling on. He glanced up at Nathan again. “Not quite a cartographer,” he said. Looking at the map now he could see where the stream was relative to Endrykas. He could also see few other marks. A quarry to the south of the stream and a spattering of trees to the north. Problem was-- Timshel didn't know which direction they had gone chasing the rabbit after. “Ok ok, Nathan. We're in a spot-- but it could be worse. Makes sense to find where we are before tracking anything else-- yes? Look here,” Timshel pointed to his scribble of the river. Just a couple squiggly lines with hash marks, “That's the curve in the river there. I just now measured that it was three fingers of sunlight west of camp, walking at a decent pace.” He looked up at the sky now. It had dropped down a few fingers. Maybe four? He couldn't tell. “If we can get back to that point in the river, I can find our way back,” Timshel said, nodding. Clouds were rolling in from the west, and a cool humidity rose up to blanket Timshel's already sweaty back. He was suddenly aware of the spit gathering in his mouth. He swallowed. “Do you... do you happen to know how long we were running or where from?” he asked, “Maybe we could track our own path back to the river?”

[Khida]

Timshel

Skill	Points
Cartography	+1
Detection	+1
Investigation	+1
Land Navigation	+1
Observation	+3
Running	+1
Tracking	+1
Weapon: Slingshot	+2

• Land Navigation: measuring distance by Syna's position
• Nathaniel Deveraux: an archer, not a cartographer
• Slingshot: good stones come from waterways
• The taste of Cyphrus earth
• Tracking: game trails in the grass

For conformity's sake, please change the entry "Sling-Shot" in your skill table to "Weapon: Slingshot".

Nathaniel Deveraux

Should you return, PM me and I'll grade your posts.

Notes

I find it pretty amusing that Timshel's tallying watercourses. This thread was also really fun to read overall, despite being truncated. I would've enjoyed reading about the rest of their tribulations.

Please let me know if you have any questions or concerns regarding your grade. Also, Timshel, please edit your request to show this thread has been graded.