Bad Trails(Erzotol)

[Jarhal Treeshadow]

33rd Spring, 511AV How far away was Endrykas now? Would someone hear him if he yelled? The plains of Cyphrus did let sound roll across it eerily well. He'd heard many a ghost story of wails being caught on the wind, swept across the grass right until it smashed into the mountains that divided the Eyktol desert from Cyphrus. It was easy to imagine where those screams had come from. Men drowned every day in the Sea of Grass. Jarhal wore his normal get-up, green fabric with a brown leather vest and archer's bracers. He had thought of trying out his new camouflage armor he had bought days ago, but new leather was always such a chore to break in properly. Something in the back of his head made him feel as though he would regret the decision. Should he have bought something for his two animals? On this morning's jaunt he was accompanied by both his Strider, Topher, and his hunting dog, Chural. They both followed him on opposite sides so that Jarhal could bend down to check any track or sign he came across. Every now and then Chural would put his nose to the ground and break off to disappear into a patch of tall grass, only to rejoin moments later when his trail proved uninteresting. The strider, meanwhile, just looked bored to be walking. Silently wishing Jarhal would ditch the dog and ride, perhaps. Many people do not know that hunting requires a great deal of preparation. Some think you simply walk into the wilderness until you find something to kill. While it may be possible to hunt in such a way, someone who makes their living hunting cannot leave so much up to pure chance. You must go out and become familiar with your new hunting ground, even if you've been there before. Sometimes an area becomes completely dead when the prey is run off for one reason or another. Jarhal stopped abruptly and frowned at the ground. Chural walked up and sniffed where he looked, his hackles already rising on his back. Even Topher felt the trouble emitting from his bonded Drykas. There in a bit of muddy ground was the frightful imprint of three taloned toes designed for running fast and disemboweling(The one usually following the other). When prey gets run off, it is often a good idea to follow suit. One of the most important lessons Jarhal's father ever taught him was that nothing in nature happens without a good reason. In this case, the reason was a murderous 7-foot tall bird better known as the Glassbeak.

[Erzotol Silverden]

Erzotol had chosen that day to practice his riding, as a chance for a bit of pleasure for him and Airaiet. He came out fully strapped up today, despite the jovial calling of the ride as one could never be to careful out on the sea of grass. The weather looked wonderful, besides the fact that just a little ways away the sky had begun to darken, and a impending storm was most likely on its way. It did not worry him however for her found himself rather enjoying such weather.

He had been ridding for quite some time when vauge shapes started taking shape on the horizion, and as a measure of caution Erzotol slide off of his horse carefully, and then proceeded to jog a little ways ahead of there position to get a better view of what was heading their way. Licking his dry, cracked lips, as he squinted trying to catch a better sight of whomever or what ever was trying so desperately to reach them. Seeing what it was at last he cursed loudly, and immediately crouched down, and set his bow. Glassbeaks, coming in hard and fast, to fast for him and his horse to get away safely. There was atleast 3 of them from what he could see, three to many in his book. He yelled loudly at Airaiet trying to get him to save himself, but the horse just stood there defiantly, determined to fight and die with its master. Cursing again he turned around to judge their approach. They where even closer now, but atleast they where in his bow range. He fit a arrow as fast as he could, drew back, and then let fly. The arrow sank into the ground a few feet short of his target, a rather large glassbeak in the lead.

Erzotol drew back another arrow, the bone creaking with the effort, and then a thrum filling the air as he let another arrow fly. This time as lady luck would have it, the shaft drived deep into the chest of the lead one, toppling it to the ground in a spurt of dust. He recited a silent prayer to Zultrav, the storm god, in thanks, and fitted another arrow. Two more arrows managed to take to the air before the glassbeaks finally overcame his position. Both of them either missed, or barely scrached the creatures, hindering them not at all. He cried for succor as the first beast tore into his shoulder and knocked him to the ground.

[Jarhal Treeshadow]

Jarhal did not see the glassbeaks or the man, they laid just over the gentle slope of a hill. Luckily for the both of them, groups of Glassbeaks made quite the noise when they found their prey. The hunter was already straightening up from looking at the tracks when the noise filled the air. They sounded eager. Chural's head swiveled and pointed in the direction of the noise, and Topher began to stamp his hooves and snort. Jarhal just gave a regretful sigh. He deeply wished he could just flee. He would swing into the saddle and ride to Endrykas, maybe try and get a rescue party together to go save the man... but it would only be to make himself feel better about running away. Glassbeaks worked quickly and left little to be found afterwards. The only thing for him to do was at least give the man a chance to survive, something better than what his brother's got. Did Caiyha enjoy seeing battles between man and beast? Or did she not make a distinction? With those questions left unanswered, he began to prepare as he was taught to. He ran to his back slung on Topher's yvas and pulled out a flask of lamp oil, as well as his belt knife. With his knife he first cut off a long strip of linen from the sleeves of his shirt. Doubling it up, he then took out an arrow from his full quiver and jammed the arrowpoint through the middle so that the ball of cloth sat clumped on the shaft. He knocked the modified arrow to his composite bow laying on the handles of his saddle. Uncorking the flask of flammable oil, he drenched the cloth and then began to douse the grass just in front of them until the last drops were gone. He turned and ran back to his bags, tossing the empty flask over his shoulder, and took out his flint. Using his knife, he made the flint spark onto the area of grass he had just doused. It lit up and began to spread as planned. Since there would be a grass-fire raging here very shortly, Jarhal quickly grabbed a handful of tall grass and cut them off at their base. He then lit the tips and returned back to climb into his saddle. Holding his bow in one hand and the smouldering stems of grass in the other, he leaned low and prayed to whatever god was listening to not let him slip off. Topher needed no signal. He began to gallop off at full speed with Jarhal precariously nestled on his back. Chural was nowhere to be seen, having taken off running while Jarhal was hastily preparing. Going back to the city, he prayed. There was no time to think about it though, for the group of glassbeaks and the man were in view quickly. They drew closer and closer with the Strider never slowing. Jarhal watched the smouldering tips of grass and prayed the rush of air didn't blow them out completely before they were close enough. Very soon though, he could see the man prone on the ground and his horse. He saw one feathered beast rearing up over the man for another strike, with two others closing to help. There was no more time to wait, so he leaned forward and lit up the cloth bundled on the arrow's shaft. It puffed up hungrily, and Jarhal drew back and released in one motion. Accuracy wasn't his real aim here, he just wanted to give the things pause for concern. Maybe enough pause for the man to do something. The flaming arrow arched through the sky and then planted itself in the ground just to the right shoulder of the prone warrior. A bit more power and he would have shot the man he was trying to save. There wasn't any time to dwell on that though, he was already reaching for another arrow and standing in his saddle. As he started shooting rapidly, passing very close behind the glassbeaks now, he began to yell in a high pitch to get the beast's attention. It was unclear if the yelling got their attention or the pointy wooden shafts he was firing at them, but got their attention it did. Two broke off to begin chasing him, an arrow shaft sticking out of each their feathered hides. He forced Topher to circle about back the way he came, toward the smoke now billowing into the sky. The Glassbeaks were gaining on him, but they were forced to get up to speed. Though he did know how to fire from horseback, it was an inaccurate thing especially at such high speeds. Perhaps only 1 in 10 arrows hit anything but dirt. It was his only hope that he could reach the fire before the glassbeaks reached him.

[Erzotol Silverden]

Erzotol layed on the ground in pain, the tear in his shoulder radiating throughout his body. He could count himself lucky that the bird's sharp beak did not tear into any major arteries. Not that really mattered he grimly thought, for even now as he tried to push himself up on the ground, he could feel a glassbeak hovering over him, rearing to deliver a killing blow. Erzotol squinted his eyes shut, preparing a last ditch effort to survive, when something landed on the ground in front of him, a flaming shaft shot by some phantom archer. A bit suprised by the arrow, but not completly distracted by it, he rolled over onto his back, praying the glassbeak had been similarly caught unawares as well.

Gripping the hilt of his sword as he twisted around, he swung the blade out of its sheath, the iron cleaving the air before him, and balking the large beast whom had resumed its lundge a second to late. Pain flared up in his shoulder from the movement, but he gritted his teeth through it, struggling up to his feet to regain his balance. Even when on even footing with the large bird, it was still a formidable foe, but atleast it was alone, and he wasn't still on the ground. Erzotol regretted that he had left his shield strapped to his horse, but there was nothing to do about it he thought, as he parried a particularly vicious peck from the glassbeak.

Erzotol kept up his defensive strategy for a few moments, until he adopted a different tatic. Feigning a sudden weakness, Erzotol dropped to the ground on one knee, the creature reacting to it by slashing with its formidable toe claws. Lunging towards the side at the last second, he narrowly doged the racking talons, and riposte the strike with a sweeping slash that buried the blade half way into its massive ankle. The bird suddenly tried to jerck its foot away from the object causing it pain, ending up tearing its foot nearly all the way off in the process. Falling down on the ground it floundered, snapping with its razor sharp beak, and clawing with its good foot, as it furiously tried to reach its prey rather unsuccessfully. Being careful of the whirlwind of limbs, he stepped inside the birds reach and landed a fatal score on its neck, before backing back up out of its reach.

Now free of the life threatining situation, the pain in his shoulder really took its toll on him, but he couldn't let that overcome him now, not when he needed a stranger to thank and possibly rescue, he looked around spotting him being chased by two glassbeaks, one with the mortal wound of his arrow previously shot still in its chest. Whistling for his horse, he started for the man.

[Jarhal Treeshadow]

The smoke of his haphazard bonfire blew in the wind of the coming storm so that it laid sideways over the plains before gradually billowing upwards into the sky. Jarhal hadn't planned it, but he'd make use of it all the same. Seeing the flames spreading across the grasslands did stir some sadness in him, sadness that he had started it, but in a choice between some grass being burned and survival... There was only one choice. Caiyha would forgive him his transgression if he managed to survive this predicament. Jarhal gave up on firing at his pursuers and focused on urging his Strider forward, encouraging him to suck all he could out of the Webbing to speed himself along. The emerald hunter was a simple man that had little idea how the Web worked, but he did know the Strider's used it somehow. It just added to their mysticism. As the grassfire grew closer and closer, he took one look over his shoulder and saw that one wounded Glassbeaks had slowed. Blood spilled over the colorful plumage on it's chest, from an arrow that did not bear the same green-dyed feathers that adorned all of Jarhal's ammunition. A blessing that the unknown man happened to know how to use a bow. Unfortunately there was little time to be glad, for the other Glassbeak was only superficially wounded. The beast was speeding up, perhaps even outrunning Topher now, and catching up distance at an alarming rate. To Jarhal, it looked like evil incarnated. While he turned back around in his yvas and hugged Topher's neck, he wondered if one of his brothers had seen a sight similar to this one. Or did they not have time to even run? Topher began to turn slightly to avoid the flames and the smoke, but Jarhal grabbed one antler-carved handle of the Yvas and urged his strider to keep straight. The Strider either understood what Jarhal had in mind or was too tired to argue. The hunter could feel the Glassbeak getting closer, every moment covering the distance between them in leaps and bounds. Jarhal reached into a pocket sewn into his cloak and pulled out a brown and green piece of linen cloth, a little hunting mask sewn for him by his mother. He pressed the cloth over his mouth and nose, then bowed his head and shut his eyes. Drykas and strider disappeared into the smoke, and then the glassbeak only a few strides behind them.

[Erzotol Silverden]

Erzotol watched as the rider and his pursuer disappeared into the clouds of smoke, rising from the grass. The grass was still a bit wet from the last storm, and he supposed that was why the fire his rescuer had started, hadn't raged out of control, and instead settled for putting off more smoke then fire. Still the rate that the blaze was spreading was alarming, and he prayed silently that Zultrav would crack open the skies and allow waves of rain to stem the fire's march.

Like his nameless friend, he too noticed the wounded glassbeak faltering, and decided to go after that one, hoping the man astride the horse could take care of the perfectly healthy one that trailed him into the smoke. He wasn't even quite sure he could handle this glassbeak, his shoulder aflame with pain as it was, and clutching the bone handle of yvas was all that he could do to stay on his galloping strider.

It had taken him a bit to clamor aboard his horse, precious time wasted, that gave the distracted glassbeaks a lead on him. With the wounded one going slower however, it gave him the perfect opportunity to strike back at his attackers once more. Still his skill with the sword was rudimentary at best, so he hoped that he would fair well against this glassbeak, hampered though it was. Cursing that he left in such a rush, that he left his bow, he drew his sword from its sheath, and held it in his off hand, gingerly holding his sheild in the other.

His horse slowed down ever so slightly, and swinging over in the yvas, he lept off the side and tucked into a roll, taking the fall as best as he could, and rising into a battle ready stance almost immediatly. He nearly swooned at such a quick motion, and vertigo nearly overwelmed him. Through a sheer force of will, he powered through his dizziness, and only just regained his balance when the dying glassbeak came upon him, still in a frenzy of bloodlust, despite its grievous injury.

Erzotol lifted up his shield barely in time to catch a powerful peck from the beast, that shot fresh streaks of pain up his arm. His vision wavered for a moment, but still his swung his blade, in a effort to counter the beasts assault, and maybe give him a breath or two more. The bird reeled backwards, and doged the swing of the sharp iron. Lunging in again, it raised a wickedly clawed foot for a strike and slashed at his midsection. He desperatly brought his shield to bear in time, and had it had taken him a fraction of a second longer, Erzotol would have been watching his guts spill out of his torn belly. Instead of death though, the clawed attack ripped his shield from his grasp, and threw him onto the ground as well. Luckly for him however, the spikes on his wooden buckler had hurt the monster as well, he observed as the beast limped backwards, the small spikes having caused tears on the bottom of its scaled foot. Unfortunatly they where only slight tears and likely could be ignored. The bird continued to stalk towards him, blood leaking forth with every stride from the piercing in its chest. As chance might have it however, as he layed there looking up at the monsterous bird from the ground, the glassbeak finally sucummed to its wounds, and fell to the ground with a thunderous thud.

Breathing a sigh of relief, he pushed himself up to his feet, and dusted himself off taking up his sword, his damaged shield and then marching off toward the column of smoke. There would be time to inspect his wounds, and scavange the dead later, right now his newfound friend might need him.

[Jarhal Treeshadow]

Rather than run straight through the column of smoke, as he suspected the Glassbeak might, Jarhal instead blindly coaxed Topher to turn and run inside the thinning smoke. Topher was going very slowly now, and on the verge of wheezing and hacking in the acrid fog. Jarhal inwardly begged forgiveness for what he was putting his friend through. Every second he expected the sharp pain of a stabbing beak when his hunter found him. Would he even know it before he was dead? Would the beast caw triumphantly? Were these the questions all the prey he had ever chased and killed asked themselves? It was immensely humbling. The emerald hunter had thought himself well in touch with nature before now, but he had never experienced the other half of the animal kingdom. How could one really know how merciless nature was without ever being preyed upon? Nature is not so simply divided as the killers and the killed, Jarhal had foolishly believed such a thing deep down. No, anything could be killed at any time. Some were merely better suited to it than others. Mankind attempted to stand outside the order, but the stronger still preyed on the weaker. You couldn't escape it. What was the point in planning for the future when everything could end in second? This wasn't the time for all these philosophical questions. His eyes burned no matter how tightly he squeezed them shut, and he wanted nothing but to gasp for air and then cough. It had been only a few seconds, maybe a minute, but it was all the hunted drykas could stand. Topher wheeled out and trotted from the smoke the same side they had entered from. The both of them came to a shambling stop on the other side of the expanding semi-circle of the raging fires. With much coughing and rubbing at his eyes, Jarhal stood in the saddle and looked about. The sight of a Glassbeak standing yards away immediately caught his attention. He brought up his bow and wildly hurried to nock an arrow to the string. As he aimed, his eyes still watering, he realized that they were separated by the thickest part of the inferno. The Glassbeak stood with the low smoke sweeping across it's long legs and a patch of flames licking up a few steps in front of it. It stared at Jarhal and Jarhal stared back. Rather than relieved, he was frightened by what he saw. The beast was puzzling, planning, and then discarding it's plans. It wanted to kill him more than anything, but it was calculating it's odds now that it was seemingly alone. He had thought the Glassbeak a savage and enraged foe incapable but anything but chaotic attack, but now he saw that they were frighteningly intelligent and crafty when the need arose. It was difficult to say which was the more disturbing. Jarhal decided it would be best to help in making it's decision. He released the arrow and it soared right past the Glassbeak's big ugly head. The beast flinched, but didn't move. Jarhal readied another arrow and released again, this time punching into the beast's wing. With a caw, sounding more frustrated than frightened, the Glassbeak turned on it's heel and began to stroll away with a final look over it's feathered shoulder. It had been beaten and hated to admit it. It was likely best to not give it a chance to change it's mind. Jarhal wheeled about and began to trot his mount back toward where he had last seen the man. A slow trot was all Topher could manage. He saw the man further down in the plains and was relieved. He stood and raised his composite shortbow high over his head so that the man could see, and know the fight was over for now. Should he yell victoriously? He didn't feel very victorious, just tired and lucky. Jarhal heeled Topher to come closer to the man so that he could speak without shouting. Shouting would probably make him cough. "I think we're safe. For now." The hunter said, slumping in his saddle. "How badly are you wounded?"

[Erzotol Silverden]

The previous two battles he had endured had taken alot out of him, and he knew that he had only survived those through pure luck, along with in no small part the aid of this stranger. Still he trudged up the hill, determined to help where he could or die trying. He had to stop half way up the hill however, for his shoulder wound, while not deep initially, had torn itself wider with his eratic movements, and his shoulder bled profusely. The shoulder of his dyed leather cuirass gradually became soaked with blood, splotches of red appearing through the white material.

He groaned softly, and kneeled looking up the hill for any signs of the man. At last he came into view, and he was relieved to see him alone and safe. For the moment the man stayed still, gazing into the inferno, and Erzotol wondered what he was staring at. It didn't matter though whatever he was staring at, he had more pressing concerns, like arresting the bloodflow from the tear in his shoulder. Already he could feel his fingertips tingling from the lack of blood in them. Tearing off strips of his cotton shirt, he wrapt them around his shoulder tight, and tied them together before wrapping it tight around his shoulder. He tied it as best and tight as he could with one arm, holding one end of the wide, absorbent cloth in his mouth, and the other end with his good arm, and pulled it tight as possible.

Staunching the bloodflow for now, he gritted his teeth, and struggled to his feet, keeping his shoulder still as possible, and looking up slowly. "Aye, i'll be alright for now, the cut is fairly shallow" he said while slowly shambling up the hill. A spark of lightning sparked across the sky, and rain began to pour from the skies.

[Quixotic]

Thread Award! Erzotol Skills Riding + 2 Weapon: Shortbow + 2 Weapon: Long Sword + 3 Weapon: Shield + 2 Medicine + 1 Lores Arrows don’t fly as far as you think they do, do they? Glassbeak beaks are damn sharp. First lesson of battle: Always keep your feet Second lesson of battle: Live with the pain (they’re quotations from Sharpe, just had to use them ) Sometimes it’s luck that decides the outcome Jaharl Skills Hunting + 1 Tracking + 1 Riding + 3 Weapon: Shortbow + 3 Lore Gauging the hunting grounds Recognising Glassbeak tracks Ways to cope with Glassbeaks Coming to the rescue of a stranger Death’s ever patiently waiting for you How it feels to be prey Other Notes : Exciting stuff, thrills, blood, grit and determination, all with a cunning plan too... at least the rain was due to put the fire out. That's all from me, if there're any problems just PM me and we'll see what we can do.