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

[Craevan]

Craevan Chuckled as the remaining 3 or 4 wolves lashed out at each other with tooth and claw, but he mustn't allow them to tear each other up too badly. If their pelts were damaged, they wouldn't sell for as high a price. Despite the snarling wolves, Craevan heard the sound of clumsy footfalls. Soon after, he felt a presence to his right and assumed it was the man who's name he had yet to learn. "Ah, finally caught up now, have ye? Good ter see ye again, friend! Ye got a weapon?" Craevan's question was answered when he looked over and saw a flame-tongued dagger in the man's hand. "If ye feel like it, I can save one o' the buggers for ye!" He let out a hearty laugh and let loose another arrow. The arrow sank deep into one of the wolves' hindquarters and the beast let a high yelp escape it's throat. He nocked another arrow and took aim at the ball of fur and claws that was the last two wolves. He had yet to use all of his bow's power, but to do that, he would need some help. Craevan took in deep breaths, focused on the writhing mass of fur, called upon the earth and felt renewed strength in his back, shoulder and arms. He drew his bow to full draw, aided by his flux, aimed, and shot the arrow. One yowl was heard, but two souls were lost. "Hey, ye want ter be takin' care o' that last one," Craevan said, pointing to the wolf that was still alive, but badly wounded. "Take him out o' his misery. I got ter skin em all when yer done there. I didn't want ter have ter kill anythin' else, but they was ruinin' me meat!"

[Sirus Delocke]

Watching from the shadows, Sirus is amazed at the abilities with the bow that his new found companion has shown. Taking notice of the one that was wounded, but not killed, and taking note. Then the impressive shot taking out two of the wolves, a frown passes across the face of Sirus before nodding at the words he heard last. “Aye, I think that I can do that”

Taking a few seconds Sirus takes off from the safety of the trees, and almost running toward the wolf, not wanting for it to suffer any longer then a creature of the forest should suffer, he comes at it from the opposite side of the wound, hoping to catch it unaware that he was there before it was too late. A few feet away still and Sirus starts to swing his arm in a punching like motion, aiming it at the wolf’s neck. Planting his foot, and twisting his hips into the motion, he flicks the blade out at the last moment in a well practiced motion and slices deep into the neck, cleanly severing the major vein. Finishing the flourish, and coming back around he backs away from the now dead beast, and cleans his blade proper on his already dirty cloak before sheathing it.

“Well now. That was fun.” Sirus quickly glaces around, wondering just what he’s getting himself into here. “I do think it’s time for a proper introduction. I Am Sirus Delocke.” And with that said he goes over and finds the nearest tree stump, sits down, “and you are good sir?”

[Craevan]

Craevan watched out of the corner of his eye as Sirus slashed at the wolf's neck with practiced ease. The flourish was a little unnecessary, but he admired Sirus' showmanship. "Well, it be a mighty honor to meet ye, Sirus!" Craevan noticed the sun beginning to set and wondered where he would sleep tonight. "M'name's Craevan. I see you're good with a dagger," Craevan said, gesturing to the scabbard at Sirus' hip. He envied a man skilled with a blade, if he had not fled his family's estate, he himself would have been trained as a swordsman. "I'm nothin' special, just a man. Ye ain't one o' those Drykas bastards, are ye? Runnin' around on them striders, keepin' em all tied up with ropes. Them striders should be free..." Craevan ranted about various injustices against nature for a few minutes. "...and that be why I ain't one ter associate with sport hunters. Damn ungrateful buggers! Killin' for no reason. I kill to eat, and to clothe me self! Sorry abou' that, I ain't one ter jabber, but when it comes to Mother Earth, I just gotta speak me mind." Craevan stared at Sirus for a minute, wondering what else he could say at the moment. "What abou' ye? Ye don't look like much o' a hunter. Can't kill much with that dagger o' yer's, I s'pose," Craevan asked, sizing Sirus up, looking for any scars or signs of battle. He noticed Sirus' dingy clothing, and the look about him that seemed to scream "frail." Craevan knew however, that the young man was capable and healthy enough. Craevan walked over to one of the wolves' bodies and gave it a small nudge ", Real shame I had ter kill 'em..." He picked up the wolf, carried it over to a nearby rock, sat down, and began skinning it. He pressed the point of his knife against the skin, still warm from life, until a small cut appeared and blood began to well out of it. He slid the knife across the stomach, leaving a thin incision. He did the same to the undersides of the legs and tail and carefully slid the knife into the cut along the stomach, between the muscle and the skin, as he awaited Sirus' response to his ramblings.