Solo [Bronze Woods] The Last Doe of Winter.

[Medhozic]

Time Stamp: 8th Day of Winter, 513AV. Just another day, that's all it was. Just another day. It's beginning to become a constant. As he pressed on, through the trees and absently pushed them away with the back of his hand, feeling them snap under the slightest pressure in their spindly, weak state - many thoughts ran through his head, all clashing and swirling in a kaleidoscope of advantages and disadvantages. He could leave Syliras now, and travel for the rest of his time; his skill in a bow still needed massive improvement, as well as his unarmed and armed combat. He could try for a Squirehood; without any knowledge of how to use much of a shield, or a sword, there was nothing there though. And he certainly wasn't going to become one of those useless Syliran Knights, running around and protecting the weak from the strong. It was sickening even to think of such a thing - but then again, the Syliran Knights were strong. They had to be - he'd seen Natasha, he'd seen Cromley. They were strong.. but they did not feed from the weak. Did that make them something to revere, or something to despise? Obviously, despise. His thoughts were broken off with the perfect tree. Thick, held in a small cluster with several others and practically leaning against them; the thick golden bark had faded to a shade of dark gray, and it suited the dying thing. It made it look old, which was exactly what he needed for a training-post to practice out his skills with a bow. Perhaps, if he managed to increase enough of his skill in a considerable amount of time, he could leave this place and begin traveling again. At least, he could begin traveling without his mind constantly screaming at him that he would die, that he wouldn't be able to protect himself. The Kopis at his hip was lifted and stabbed against the tree, slowly sawing back and forth as it carved into the bark and began to flick pieces off, scraping with the distinct noise of steel against wood that only the two could produce - a screech that was guaranteed to scare off any animals in the area. A Kopis wasn't exactly the best tool for the job, but it had never failed him before - he wasn't going to let it do it now. And soon enough, he had a rough, jagged circle in the middle of the tree, about shoulder-height. The bow was drawn, Kopis re-sheathed and an arrow from the quiver drawn and notched in place, pulled back and making the limbs give a familiar creak. It was the sign of well-use. A sign that he liked very much. The base brushed his cheek, and it sped through the air, striking just above the little ring. He didn't expect to hit it - just getting close was enough. So, he drew another and took a rather exaggerated step back, to test his range with the thing. With the same stance as before, it pulled back and sliced through the air, striking a little further off-centre, but nothing too bad. But then, he wasn't very far away at all; only a small matter of steps away. So this time, he took three exaggerated steps back from the tree, until he was nearly brushing one further back, and pulled the bow back for a third attempt. And there it was. The arrow wobbled off and missed the tree entirely, striking one of the neighboring trees without even enough force to embed in the bark, and instead falling to the ground. But he wouldn't be put off that quickly; another was drawn, notched, pulled back and fired, with a little better success - it grazed the side of the tree but didn't embed in it, instead it clattered to the floor some distance away. He cursed under his breath.. but that was all. Then he walked back over, crouching to pluck the arrows from the floor and the tree, one by one. And that's when he saw it.

[Medhozic]

He was sure he wouldn't see one - most of the other animals had gone into hibernation and it was rare to see such a specimen so close. He'd just been picking up one of the arrows when he saw it - and he'd been pretty careless around them, too. The little target still stood, too, and that should have easily scared it off. Yet here stood a remarkable, beautiful doe, practically staring at him in the face and with a close enough range that he could have thrown a stone and hit it right between the eyes without much problem. It wasn't looking at him though, its focus was off in some point in the distance and it nearly looked straight over his shoulder with apparently no care for the predator that was about to kill it. With an arrow in hand and a bow in the other, he didn't budge. Just crouched there and watched it, fearing that the slightest twitch might set it into a sprint that he'd never be able to catch. And watching was all he could do, because it was just.. beautiful. Slender, and a light brown in fur that would have made the winter seem like nothing. Muscular, powerful, and yet he hadn't heard it at all when it descended, like something out of a fairytale. He didn't want to spoil it, but it was too good an opportunity to lose. And why let such a fine specimen escape simply because of its beauty... He would not let it escape his bow. Because a sword did not account ones beauty before it cuts. No creature would ever be spared a predator simply by its beauty, no; it would be spared if it was smart, or if it could camouflage itself, but never by its simple beauty. And neither would he, or was he so weak? Or was he strong enough to withhold himself. Was he able to stare his need in the face and push it down into the deepest pits of his mind, to become strong-willed like the Syliran Knights, and protect those worth protecting... He didn't have time for such drool. He was no philosopher and neither was the arrow in his hand; they would not badger his thoughts any more. Slowly, to try and not make any sudden movements, the arrow was brought around and slowly strung against the bowstring to notch the small gouge against the edge. The limbs made a soft creak as they were pulled back and strained; the doe raised its head in a startle, and he held back a curse in his head. Sacrificing secrecy for nostalgia. You idiot. While it looked away, he slowly brought it up and closed one eye to focus on the doe, aiming for the neck. But it was not to be - the doe moved to the side at the last moment, and the arrow flew by and struck it in the shoulder instead, thanks to a small shift that had been half-instinctual. Got it. His victory was half-lived, if even that. In pain, it screamed and turned suddenly, bolting through the branches and down the forest. With every movement, his minds' eye could see the arrow jabbing against the muscle and ripping it slowly, grinding against the bone; but it had three legs, and plenty of power to keep it going. The trees snapped audibly in the distance as it crashed through them, trying to run to safety - of course, that 'safety' could just be another predator waiting to take advantage of his meal and drag it away into the cold night. In the winter season, it would not survive even if left alone, but it was a race now. A race between him and the doe, to see who would get to it first. Him, or the wolves and other predators that could already scent the blood in the crimson trail that followed it in his wake. He didn't bother to pull the arrow into the quiver, or loop the bow around his shoulder as he always did - he just rose into a sprint, as fast as possible, after the doe. And prayed to Syna that he'd reach it first.

[Medhozic]

He had scrapes all over his chest and torso from the stripped branches slapping against him, and raking through the thin and dirtied shirt as he followed the trail left behind by the doe. Blood splattered in a dotted, jagged line and he could see evidence in the soil - hoof-marks and soil tossed around, and although it wasn't particularly clear, he could make enough of it out to keep running after his prize. He couldn't tell how long he'd been running - it was far too long, given his shortness of breath that had turned into thin wheezing, and something that constituted for a cramp in the side of his chest from all the time running. He didn't particularly like it.. but he would endure. And after stumbling to a halt and doubling over to hold his chest with a few even, long breaths, he straightened up and began to follow it again. How long could it be going, how strong was it? Could it still be running after all of this time, with an arrow still embedded in its side, lolloping through the trees with every breath a struggle? It was exactly at that point where something else unexpected happened. All of a sudden, he'd caught up with the deer; it stood several paces away, trying to lean down and lick around the arrow still stuck in its joint near a small stream that must have bordered the centre of the Bronze Woods - somewhere he'd never actually ventured before, though he wasn't paying much attention to that while his prey was still alive and breathing.. mostly, anyway. Blood dribbled down the leg and matted the fur, and it was obviously tired and wobbling on its bruised and battered legs. But it was too far away for an accurate push, he knew that now. He knew his distance, and he could use that for a better advantage - to find a good spot, somewhere close enough to his prey for an accurate pierce of the neck or the head, at the very least another leg to make sure that it could not run away again, yet far away enough that he'd remain inconspicuous; unseen entirely as he remained from its line-of-sight. It was a shot in the dark. One wrong slip and he'd be chasing the thing all over again, and he didn't have time for that; there weren't many bells left in the day, and soon enough Leth would cloud the skies and many predators would take to the forest. He needed to take it out and get out of here. A few moments glancing had him spot that was perfect - a suitable distance, shrouded in the last vestiges of a shrub that contained most of its leaves. Though, he had to be careful, and quiet. Inching around the trees was the hardest part; the floor was littered with tiny little twigs, any one of which could blow his cover. The arrow still lay in his palm as he watched the doe carefully, almost waiting for it to dart off again... but thankfully, he was soon crouched behind the shrub and peering through its small gaps. Just one chance. The arrow was notched, drawn back slowly and lifted up, readied for a strike. The limbs of the bow strained and the drawstring brushed his cheek, a perfect stance with one foot placed on the ground and the other pulled behind, leaning against his knee. Just one. Just one chance stood between success and a new doe, or failure and a chance lost. And with that thought buried deep in his mind, he released the shot and watched it fly through the air, straight and true, to hit the doe on the flank and just behind the ribcage. It buried in place, and the doe gave another scream - but then it was off again, and he couldn't believe himself. For a second, he simply sat there in shock - had he really failed to hit anything vital? Was he that weak, or was the doe better than him? Was he really unable to kill a simple doe? And then it fell, after a few stumbling steps, and he sighed in relief. He could have punched the air in joy. Rabbits, rabbits were nothing compared to this. Nothing at all. And to prove it, he brought out the Kopis from its sheath and swung it lazily from side to side as he approached the fallen animal, no longer worried about being seen - it was clearly still alive, but he could revel in a few moments of victory before slashing down on its neck with the edge as hard as possible, sending a fresh gout of blood into the air and nearly all over his shirt, if he hadn't managed to hop back. Now now, calm. He needed to be professional. Not hop from foot to foot like some anxious child finally happy that he'd managed to hit a rock with a stick. He took the Kopis in two hands and brought it down again, and again on the same portion of the neck until it came free and the head rolled on the floor. He'd need to cook it.. make sure the blood didn't stain his pack, but at least he'd brought the flint and other pieces of equipment inside, which he quickly brought out. A few branches were stripped from the bush that he'd been hiding behind moments ago and arranged in a small fire, with little leaves thrown around the outside; the flint and a rock were used to spark a flame, which illuminated the dimming landscape and helped to keep the heat in such a cold evening; the cloak, as good as it was, wasn't enough. Of course, it was while the fire did its work, slowly cooking the meat as it hung from the end of a long branch he'd managed to snap down with the edge of the Kopis, that his mind began to wander again, as usual. Looking out over what little he could see of the pale-amber sky, hidden beneath slanted branches of large trees, in all different shapes that filtered the view into thin strips - he wondered when he'd see it again. From a different angle, in a different land.. on the balcony of a nobles palace, overlooking a vast golden city that hangs like a mirage beneath it? Or under the foot of some brutish warrior, deep in the fighters pits of a cut-throats denizen, fighting for his life as he struggles to beat a man he barely knew to death for a few mere Miza's. But he didn't have time for his reminiscing today. Today, he had a new visitor. A bright wolf in the distance, that nearly made him drop his catch straight into the fire.

[Medhozic]

Before he could pick up his bow - abandoned at his side and without an arrow to pick, it shifted over a matter of several seconds. From a wolf, the luminent fur pulled back and its muzzle turned into a perfect nose. Within a few seconds, a woman stood in the place of the wolf - sorcery. He was sure of it, some strange magician had brought it about and he was ready to pick up the bow and kill the thing.. but it lifted a hand that bid him to stop. "Please.. my name is Ama." "Why should that matter." "Because I am not a threat to you." "Why should I believe that." The exchange was rapid - he could see that she had noticed the horns protruding from the side of his head, and a small smile grew over her face, as if the horns were something to smile about. It annoyed him to no end that those around him would continuously focus on those horns, as if they were a symbol of something that he was supposed to be that did them any good. Yes, he was an Ethaefal - that did not mean that he was automatically one of the 'nice' ones. But then, if he wasn't, he would have killed almost every knight, squire, hunter and sorceress that changed themselves into wolves and back again on sight. If he wasn't so utterly weak. So he lifted his attention and showed neither a smile nor a frown when she responded. "I'm only here to make sure that you are safe.. this is a bad time to have a fire, and meat out. Wolves could arrive." "If they do, I will kill them." "Oh. Are you skilled in your bow?" "No." Her face took on something between a frown and another unreadable emotion. Something similar to confusion. He looked down at the meat again, still held above the fire, and pulled it away to select another section - one of a leg and stab the sharpened stick through the meat, lifting it up and watching it rotate slowly. "How will you fight them off?" "I have my ways. What do you want." He was growing tired of the constant back-and-forth that they were having; he wanted to get out of the woods as quickly as she wanted him to get out, and he wanted to escape with all of the meat on the deers bones, as well as all of the meat on his own. He didn't know why she was pestering him over it, as if that would make the meat cook any faster, rather than help. But he wouldn't pressure her for help.. that would make him sound weak, and she could shift between her human and.. that animal. One moment of weakness, that would be all.. he had his Kopis, but she would have her teeth, and her claws, and her strength, and what did he have against any of that? ".. Just making sure that you're alright." "If I wasn't, I'd be dead." "Or you'd be in great danger." "Are you threatening me." "Of course not! I only want to--" They were both cut short. Some growling in the distance.. and it wasn't human. She turned in its direction, and then back to him with an expression that had completely changed. She wasn't being helpful anymore, she was being determined, and the luminence was radiating from her skin again. "Go." That was all she said, and that was all it took. He wasn't calm anymore, and he was weak. Very weak. He abandoned the head but took all of the pieces of meat, most of them raw and staining his palms and fingers with blood as he unceremoniously shoved them into the pack, tying it and looping the bow around one shoulder, the pack around the other and his quiver between the two. The woman was already gone - she was a wolf now, running off to meet some invisible foe. There was lots of growling in the distance, as he stumbled back through the forest in the exact opposite way that he'd gone before. It was only a miracle that he could remember the way and see the faint trail of broken branches and trampled soil through the dim vestiges of sunlight fading fast in the distance. But he could tell that he was not the only one - growling was growing in volume behind him; they must have been following the blaringly obvious scent of meat. But stubborn as he was, he would not abandon his catch to the predators.. if needed, he would take his bow and he would shoot the thing between the eyes before it would take the hard-earned meat for itself. He needn't have worried, however; as it brought up his flank, close enough that he could see the whites in his teeth and the snarl on its jaws, Ama practically leaped before him and stood between his fleeing cowardice and the other wolf. Her fur glowed an eerie shade of tinted blue and white, and her superior size was enough to force it back with a whimper in its throat. If he was not so busy escaping, he would thank her. Instead, as he finally reached the road and began his fast-paced walk back to the Castle to finish cooking the meat to prepare for his own food - or maybe even to be sold in the markets for extra profit - that he would repay her, if he saw her again, for saving his life.

[Orion Michaels]

Medhozic
+2 Philosophy 
+1 Carving
+3 Weapon: Shortbow
+2 Running
+2 Observation
+1 Tracking
+1 Stealth
+1 Cooking

Lore :

Carving a Makeshift Target
Contemplating One's Meaning
Claiming a Trophy...Messily
Ama: The White Wolf

Results :

-Minor Scrapes and cuts over your arms, chest, and torso from the brush and branches. Noticable when exerting yourself or when they are hit/brushed. Will heal in about a week.
-Considerable soreness throughout the legs from sprinting. Additional running and movement will be difficult but not impossible for the next two days.

Notes
Fun thread. I like Med's internal monologue quite a bit. Be careful about overplaying. Following the deer after it's been wounded would fall under Tracking, which you didn't have any in. Running and trying to track would be difficult for skilled hunters. Even a wounded deer is likely to outpace a biped. Also with all the noise you'd make sprinting and wheezing, the deer would still hear the threat coming.  Let me know if you have any questions about your grade and don't forget to remove your request from the grade queue.