[Southern Wildlands] Finding Peace within the Wilds (Open)

[Sirus Delocke]

Season of Spring, Day 59, 511 AV

After leaving the place he called home for the last 23 years, the place filled with bad memories that he couldn’t shake off. And only recur in the nights where sleep was the last thing to be found. Sirus, hoping that a journey, and the sights and sounds of a new place will help heal the scars he has of the places he’s been before. Hitching up his backpack tighter to him, he takes his first steps onward to Syliras. His eyes looking around, keeping at least one eye out for danger, a small trick that doesn’t always work, but worked well enough to save him once or twice on the streets of Sunberth growing up. And ducking the occasional punch his angry father threw his way.

After a few bells travel on the road he notices a familiar landmark off in the distance some miles, The Caern. He nods to himself and sets off once more, heading more directly to The Caern instead of on the road that is lazily rolling through the hills, Sirus wants to pay his respects to those that lost their lives, and maybe take a look around on top of that hill, to try and get a better bearing on the landscape of this area.

A few more bells later, with the spring sun beating down upon his shoulders he settles the argument he's been having with himself and finds some shade under a small group of trees. Pulls out a small piece of dried fruit from his small stash of dried foods and starts eat slowly while watching the plains before him. The small tuffs of wind blowing the grasses like waves upon the sea. The sounds of birds calling out to each other singing sharply in his ears, ringing quite differently than the sounds of the lawless town.

OOCThese posts should get better, just a bit rusty. And if anything needs clearing up, just lemme know.

[Sirus Delocke]

After sitting there for a little while Sirus stands up and starts towards the Caern once again. If one was to watch him for a while, his steps would start to slow down. As if with each step a weight is placed upon his shoulders, dragging him down. And it was. All those things left undone. So many promises left unfilled. But why can’t he just shrug them off like the rest of humanity. While living within Sunberth it has taught him everyone has their price. Just depends if you are willing to pay it or not. He comes to a stop on the trail he found and looks down at his feet.

“What the hell do I think I’m doing? Why can’t I just walk away and try somewhere else.”

He looks around and lets out a deep sigh

“Fine, but you know if this kills me then I’m going to haunt you for the rest of eternity, instead of the other way around.”

His hand slips down to the belt holding onto his dagger.

“Not even sure it’s you old man, just from the feelings I get, I don’t see anyone else who would want me to uphold such standards in this place.”

Shaking his head he turns back around, and heads back towards the place he’s been trying to get away from for years. And every time he gets this far, and feels a tugging, like something left undone. But he’ll ever be damned if he could tell you what it was. He shrugs off the thought, and starts to make a list in his head everything he has to do.

[Craevan]

Craevan, the last heir to the O'Byrne legacy, crouched in silence behind a a few rows of bushes. He had been stalking a large buck for the past hour. He had tried to move as quietly as possible, choosing his footings carefully and staying low. Luckily, his leather armor was well camouflaged and aided him greatly. His eyes fixed on the buck, he drew his longbow up, quickly and quietly nocked an arrow, and slowly aimed the shaft at the buck's neck. He drew two long breaths while he waited for the deer to lift it's head from a particularly green tuft of grass. Time seemed to slow as the buck's eye's lifted and reflected sunlight into the thicket behind which Craevan was hidden. Craevan's fingers let loose an arrow, but Craevan knew he had missed and immediately nocked another arrow, a movement ingrained into his brain from years of training. The deer's eyes went wild and he began to run off, but before it could take more than a few steps, a wooden shaft struck the side of it's head. "Sorry, brother. Ye must understand. May ye live on... as a new pair o' boots," Craevan grimly exclaimed, "I thought I was going ter have ter dip into me family's funds, but this skin could buy me two pairs if I needed!" He longingly thought of having his feet in a pair of warm, new leather boots as he gazed upon his ruddy old pair which were falling apart. He reached for his Isurian hunting knife at his side as he lowered himself to skin the animal. Always vigilant, Craeven went through a mental checklist of dangers and alerts. "No snapping twigs, good. No strange bird calls, good. Nothing reflective I can see, good," he whispered. He refocused on skinning the animal careful to cut at angles so that no blood would get on him, blood would attract predators. However, he was unsuccessful and got blood on his hands and chest. Suddenly, he heard a far off voice behind him, muffled by the foliage. He collected his bow and quiver from beside the buck carcass, rolled up the skin, stuffed it in his backpack, and set off towards the sound. From what he'd heard, it seems to be a young man arguing with himself. What's this? The man seemed to be talking to an older man, but the latter wasn't responding. "Strange indeed..." He pressed on. He reached the tree-line and observed a young man, but not the older one. Craevan could not determine where the man wished to go from his vantage point, but noticed that his steps grew heavier and closer together. "He must be close," Craevan said to himself. He unsheathed his knife once again and emerged from the trees... Craevan closed the distance between himself and the young man easily. He may be older than the man, but he's still young enough for his training to be more than effective. He silently stalked the man from about 20 feet away. Craevan was taking a huge risk, he was on the side of a road with no cover. SNAP! Craevan's foot had fallen onto a dead branch, snapping it in two.

[Sirus Delocke]

Just about the time Sirus gets to the third or fourth thing on his mental checklist a loud snapping sound brings him back to reality, and in doing so scaring him quite badly as well. After nearly jumping out of his skin he turns around while taking a deep breath, and hoping that it isn’t a band of thieves or something worse. Letting his eyes fall upon the man who, from the looks of it, was in the process of trying to sneak up on him they quickly narrow and his right hand slightly twitches. Not moving just yet, but twitching in the want for moving as he clearly sees the unsheathed knife in said stalker’s hands.

“Well, it seems that you’re rudely interrupted in these parts just as you are in Sunberth…”

Quietly muttering, hoping his voice doesn’t carry before saying louder.

“Afternoon there Sir, and just what can I do for you?”

Sirus asks, his tone is one of exasperation at being caught off guard.

[Craevan]

Craevan cursed his carelessness as he assumed a less intimidating stance. He lowered his knife, but kept a firm grip on it. The young man had been scared and shocked, if he was truly in his element, the look on his face would be one of attentiveness, inquisitiveness, and apprehension. Craevan relaxed slightly, thinking the man unexperienced. He remembered the blood stains on his hands and armor and was glad that he had acquired them. A man covered in blood was certainly more frightening than a clean man. "What ye be doin' out here? I seen ye comin' out o' Sunberth only a few dozen bells ago! Why ye be turning back so soon, ye seem stocked fer a few months?" Craevan raised the knife slightly, and started to slowly circle the man. He forced a cold, hard look into his warm eyes and tried to look as frightening as possible. In conjunction with his blood-covered torso, his sunken face and glowering eyes looked wild and dangerous. "Where's yer friend, the old man ye was talking to?" he blurted out the question with a paranoid urgency. "Is he waiting ter ambush me? Come on out, old man!" Craevan exclaimed threateningly! Not waiting for an answer, he began to frantically search the brush on the side of the road for said old man. He smelled the air for any hints of soap or the lingering scent of food on a cloak, but nothing, only the young man's breath. Suddenly, Craevan's demeanor changed from frantic and paranoid to cool and collected. He turrned to face him, relaxed and smiling. "Now, ye could tell me what I want ter know and co-operate, or ye could be difficult. If ye choose to be jovial, I'll gladly lend ye me bow 'til ye reach yer destination. Act carefully, friend." He said the first part cheerfully, but the last part was laced with an underlying warning.

[Sirus Delocke]

After the first few seconds of watching this new man, and listening to his words a smile crosses the face of Sirus, shaking his head before he starts to answer. “Well good Sir, I have no friend that is here with me. I was merely talking to the memories and feelings that I was having. And there is no ambush.”

Sirus slowly pulls his empty hands away from his body, showing that he was no threat to anyone, “I am Sirus Delocke, a vagabond from the lovely streets of Sunberth who was merely trying to find his escape from this hell. Who was ever so graciously reminded of the promises I once made to an Old Man. And even in death he won’t let me forget them.” Sirus slowly raises an eyebrow at the man

“And what about you good sir?” Sirus asks, his tone and demeanor trying to defuse the man in front of him even more, knowing that at any moment he could put an arrow through him if Sirus chose the wrong words.

[Craevan]

Craevan turned to the man, and listened intently, hoping to pick up on something about his speech that would indicate any kind of deception. He believed the young man, there was no sign of another individual. However, the young man was smiling, why? Craevan didn't like it, "Why're ye so damn calm, lad? Ye should be scared, there's a knife wielding man covered in blood in front o' ye and yer not even sweating!" Craevan marveled at the young man's reaction to a knife-wielding wild man, "Either yer an idiot, or ye got yerself something ter defend yerself with..." He looked the man over and noticed signs of being injured in the past and of recent malnutrition. Craevan decided to take a risk and assume the man was harmless, partly because he kind of liked the guy, and partly because he was almost certain he could put an arrow through the man's head at a moments notice. He sheathed his knife in the plain black scabbard at his side and crossed his arms. "Ye don't know too much about not gettin' yerself killed, do ye? I seen ye comin' out o' Sunberth, how're ye alive? I'm not half as bad as some of those bastards in the city. Real nutters, they are," he asked, genuinely confused as to how such a man could survive in a city riddled with so much violence. He thought of his own reluctance to go into town and could relate to the man's desire to leave the lawless city, left in shambles by the Valterrian. "Where was ye off to? I needn't stay here, maybe I could... come along? If ye could find it in yer heart to forgive me fer almost slittin' yer throat," he looked at the young man with hope in his eyes. Maybe this man could lead him somewhere better, he had quickly grown tired of Sunberth's plethora of unsavoury personalities. He longed to live in the forests and farmlands near Syliras. For him, that would be a truly royal existence.

[Sirus Delocke]

Nodding to the man’s words, Sirus wonders quickly for a second if telling of his recent story would make the weight easier to bear... And quickly shakes it off for now.

“Aye, I can always forgive the person that does no harm, And as for not being scared..” He trails off and winks at the older man. “I do know a few things about survival, first off, is from the way the blood marks are splattered onto your outer garments, I’d say you’d have to be gutting an animal, and that is only backed up by the way your holding your knife. It’s more of a utility hold, for gutting, or cutting something already dead, not the sort of way you would come at a man if you knew about dagger fighting. But you’ll always have me at the ranged combat arts my good man. So you shouldn’t fear someone that can’t get close without you knowing.”

Saying that Sirus goes quiet for a few minutes, looking at the forest’s ahead of him, then back toward Sunberth. “… I’ve always wanted to leave that place, for 7 years I’ve wanted to leave…” He takes a deep breath and looks Craevan dead in the eyes “But yet there is this strange feeling that I keep having that I’ve left something undone.” He shrugs and lets the subject drop, searching for a way out of having to say more right now, he looks around “Shouldn’t you finish what you were doing before it spoils the meat or something?”

[Craevan]

Craevan could understand the nagging feeling that something has been left unfinished. He never had the chance to reconcile with his family. He had found them gluttonous and disgusting, but it would have been nice to have left them with a proper goodbye. They had died in a fire and left everything to him, not on purpose of course. His father had forgotten to completely erase Craevan's ties to the O'Byrne family. If he knew now, he would have a fit. At the mention of gutting animals, Craevan recalled the deer he had killed in the woods. "Well, I really should go cut that bugger up. If ye want, I'll let ye have half of it. A big ol' buck he is, put an arrow straight in ter its skull," he boasted. "We'll have ter dry it and salt it o' course, raw meat be attractin' predators and spoils quickly," he explained. "It be just through them trees a way. Had ter leave it ter come make sure ye wasn't nothin' ter worry abou'," Craevan said, pointing to the trees he arrived through and making his way towards them. He didn't wait for an answer and let the trees envelop him. He sensed the young man would follow and waited to hear the crunch of leaves, grass, and twigs behind him. The sun showered through gaps in the trees above him and created a beautiful dappled pattern on the forest floor. He moved in sync with the wind, winding his way between trees. He detected the faint smell of blood in the air and knew at once that he was close to his kill. However, if he could smell blood, so could wolves. Craevan respected wolves, but found them to be a very dangerous nuisance. He clenched his fist around the longbow at his back, pulled it around and off his back, nocked an arrow, and set off towards the carcass. As the scent grew stronger, he crouched and strained his ears to pick up any sounds. His eyes caught a small opening in the trees, he cautiously approached the small clearing. The smell of blood was strong now, he could hear flesh being torn and bones snapping. He gained a vantage point into the clearing and chose his target, a large grey wolf that seemed to be dominating the others. Craevan knew that if he could take out the alpha, the rest would fight for control over the pack and would be less likely to attack him. He thought for a moment, "why are the wolves scavenging? Food must be scarce." From the looks of the wolves, his reasoning was correct. All but the alpha were showing ribs and looked unstable, balanced on brittle bones. The deer's meat was ruined but the wolves' pelts would fetch good money at market. He drew back his longbow with every muscle from the tip of his fingers to the small of his back, detected no wind, aimed, and shot. The twang of his bow came only moments before the dull thud that was the arrow sinking deep into the wolf's side. Chaos ensued. After realizing what had come to pass, the wolves were frantically racing to get chunks of meat from whatever was left of the buck Creaevan had killed only bells before.

[Sirus Delocke]

Taking a few deep breathes and thanking every god and goddess that he can remember the names of as he watches this man glide effortlessly through the forest. Shaking his head, knowing full well that he is going to make a fool of himself trying to follow Craevan, Sirus takes off through the forest. Each step making a loud sound, snap, crunch, the sounds could be mistaken for a rather large animal making its way through a thick brush.

After a few minutes, and what seems like losing Craevan for the hundredth time already, Sirus hears through the noise he’s making of the distinctive sound of a longbow twang. Instinctively Sirus hits the ground and quickly looks around for the shaft of the arrow, not seeing any right away he starts to make his way a little more quietly, this time actually trying to be quiet in an element that he is entirely unfamiliar with.

Coming up a few paces to the right of the mountain man, Sirus quickly unsheathes the Flame tongue dagger, the hold reversed, the blade coming down the forearm of Sirus. He watches the aftermath, quiet as can be, which for him at this current time isn’t that quiet, but most of his sounds are masked by the carnage laid out before him. Watching what is left of the pack fight amongst each other, a few questions arise in the back of Sirus’s mind, and he makes a quick mental note to ask later, that is if there is a later for him.

Taking a closer look, and seeing the state of the rest of the wolves, hungry and malnourished, he makes a quick deduction and freezes in his steps, knowing that he is worthless in this fight. If a wolf got within his range, he can take a guess and know there is going to be more than one. And Sirus is sure with his knowledge he may take one or two even. But seeing as there is a whole pack of these beasts in front of him, his only solution is let them fight amongst themselves.

Taking a quick look over to the older man, not knowing if he would use that bow of his to save his life at this point, and all of his experience is telling him not to test those waters. He looks questioningly, wanting to know what would be the next move in this situation. While Sirus knows what he would do, he also knows enough about the wilderness to know that everything he knows is worthless in saving his life.