Closed Improvising

[Konrad Venger]

8th Bell - 60th Day of Winter, 516AV - Outside Topaz Quarter, Endrykas

"Gods sodding damn it!"

Konrad had to resist the very real and pressing urge to hurl the empty snare out into the middle of nowhere. Instead he settled for glaring at it, squeezing the empty noose into a tight ball and tossing it at his feet.

Two days in a row. Two days with nothing to show for his efforts.

"Petch me," he snarled, ripping his hat off his head and swatting at his thigh with it. "Ain' gunna' stand..."

Not with him, not with the Pavilion, not even with Jonas. The Drykas - or at least these Dryas, led by this mad prophet Jonas - were more welcoming than the grisly tales he'd heard in Sunberth would have led him to think, but they demanded a man be useful. Even children and elders worked, in some way. Konrad trapped, and hunted, and fished, because quite frankly his usual talents were utterly without a market in Endrykas.

Aye, no-one needs some ugly bastard to cut a few throats for coin. More's the bloody pity.

Two days now, he'd failed in his task. He'd come back empty-handed, and seen the cold gazes flicker from his bare traps to his scarred face. He'd been with them for... gods, nearly a full season, now. The wounds they'd found him with had healed, save for a limp in his leg that was going slowly (if it ever completely would). He was a man, not a child, and if he couldn't even catch rabbits and quail, well...

"Shyke."

The word came out through gritted teeth and vanished into the chill air; the only chill they were likely to get that day. Soon Syna would rise and another cycle of merciless heat would commence. The grasslands suffered. Vegetation withered and burned away; birds had no roosts, no hint to migrate, not even food to be found; plant-eater and meat-eater both starved and wandered, as lost and unknowing as the humans.

He'd think of something. He always did. He bent down to gather his trap and-

It was a sharp, querulous call, like a single note stretched out and chopped up into ticks. Konrad's head jerked up and his hand went to the bow over his shoulder. He knew that sound. Some sort of pheasant, he'd wager, or one of those fat little birds that lived on the ground. His eyes widened as he realized he could see it, jumping up and down in a knot of tall grass, flapping furiously, but never leaving, held down-

Trapped. Roped.

Konrad licked his lips and studied the area around him. He had a rough idea of what thoughts would be going through the minds of others. They were probably concerned mostly with fairness, theft, morality, a man's rights to his own hard-won game, punishment... and predictably, only the last one gained any purchase in his dark mind. But that would require being caught, and as he turned his head, taking in the tents and pavilions of Endrykas a league or so away...

No-one out here. No-one coming. Yet. So make it quick.

The mercenary unsheathed his hunting knife and stalked quickly across brackish heather and dead grass to the frantic bird. It wouldn't be frantic for much longer. He vanished into the patch of grass with a smile, and his stomach echoed the sentiment.

[Brocton Firestone]

Day, Season, 516av, Location

With everything happening this season, the constant Zith struggles, the warming of Fall and Summer weather's upon Endrykas. If there was a pet peeves that Brocton had, it would be hunting and finding nothing. He set traps, some deep within the forest that was a few miles or so away, and Brocton didn't like going that far out to hunt, but it was what the Emerald Clan did, even if it meant insecurity. Brocton lost his Strider last summer, and he's planning not to lose another any time soon, he secretly worships the Gods as they might be of help to him, but in the end, he doesn't trust them. Not what one of the followers of Itinerary did to Jinx. He won't forget it, the pain, never. His anger swelled, and gripped tightly on the Yvas of a new Strider. *Unarmed at this point until we progress more through the Dream a Little Dream Thread

The strider that Brocton rode was calm, and silent, but nonetheless it didn't mind Broctons company, for the most part, and the hunter was glad. On the other hand the feeling of hoplessness still dug into his abode, and he felt weak. Mentally, he knew he was quite strong physically, but he's not prepared for this random nonsense the Gods keep throwing at him and the other Drykas.

Soon, they would reach the forest a few yards and Brocton will call for a halt in the process. At least a couple now, the hooves tapped lightly as the Strider rode over the Sea of Grass. Brocton had his usual gear with him; Shortbow, quiver full of arrows, longsword, strapped to his Yvas, water skin, and his pack that contained some sticks of venison and other meat inside.

The hunter patted the Strider, calming it down before it stopped, to at least maybe give it some leeway to some comfortability. The horse knickered, and clomped his hooves against the earth. Brocton smiled.

"There there."He whispered tiredly to the Strider though, he sounded more passive. Stroking the hair that drapped downwards from the stallions mane, it was thick, but, smooth at the same time, it felt stringy even, nonetheless it was a horse.

The hunter slid off of the Yvas carefully and landed with a thump as the Strider slowed to a halt. Brocton gathered up his things, and drained some water from his waterskin for the Strider and pets the stallions cheeks a bit as the horse was bending over to get hydrated. It's always good, especially now, when Winter is warm as ever.

"Something happens. Head back to Endrykas. Don't go looking for me, but I would like you to... stay."Said Brocton as he belted his longsword around his waist and waterfalled the drink into his system. He sighed, relaxed, and ready to hunt. The first thought on his mind was to check on his traps and see how they're doing.

____________________________

Brocton found some of his snares empty, but he quickly looked around before putting them in his pack to make sure that no one was following him, he didn't want to be seen around some pretty decent hunting zones.

Though, he heard it, a squeal coming from a distance, it sounded close to his trap that he set prior a few days ago, can it be, something that he had actually caught? Maybe all of this time hunting with Naiya had paid off. He prayed excitedly that hopefully it was something bi, maybe a fox? Or is that too big with a snare, it'll probably break, but what could it be?

Brocton picked up his shortbow and hurried over to the screeching, he ran around a boulder and jumped a log or two, stepping over some twigs, but surely no one would be here to hear any of it, he must be alone. The squeaking was louder, and louder, Brocton slowed down to a near stealthy walk. Making sure to avoid twigs, Brocton his behind an underbrush. He noticed a man, one that he had never seen before, walk over to Broctons set trap. Yes, his, because Brocton noticed the slight slit up above where he hung it from the tree just in front of him, as he looked upwards.

This man seemed greedy, he knabbed the bird and headed out. Brocton clenched his teeth, and he went around the underbrush after hiding to make sure the man hadn't noticed him. Just to be on the safe side, obviously, this man was a greedy Shyke wasn't he?

Eventually, Brocton stopped crouching, and this stranger didn't seem to have a camp near by, now it was time to draw his shortbow. Brocton was only ten feet behind, when Brocton stopped and readied his bow, pulling the string and aiming at the man. He wasn't going to shoot him, but that was Brocton's catch.

"Stop!"Brocton said in Common, hopefully it was the same language that this unknown stranger knows. Otherwise, they wouldn't be able to speak Pavi, unless he knows it to. "Bird, you have my bird." Brocton's grip on the string was tighter, and he was aiming at the man. Hopefully he'd stop walking. "Stop, or I shoot."

BROCTON FIRESTONE

[Konrad Venger]

Where in the petch did he come from?!

If he's been back in Sunberth, surrounded by the acoustic bonanza of cobbles, bricks and tiles, Konrad would probably have heard the strange approach. But alas, he was out of his element in every way that mattered.

Turned out, he didn't need the knife. He snatched up the bird and before he could bring the weapon to bear, squeezed harder around its neck... harder... until he felt the snap under his palm rather than heard it. The quail went limp save for a few errant twitches, and then he decided to use the hunting knife to cut loose the snare before he-

"Stop!"

The voice was strong, and choked with outrage. Well, that made sense. Konrad raised both his arms, one loaded with his pilfered prize, the other holding his knife, and he turned... to see a man broadly-built and holding a shortbow like his own.

Arrow already notched. String already tight. Aimed at his heart.

Bugger.

"Bird, you have my bird."

"Aye, well," Konrad said, attempting a smile across a face so scarred that the gesture came off as a snarl instead. He started walking forward, each step taking an age, slow enough to show the man he was no threat. At least, that was the intent. "Can't blame a man fer tryin'. 'sides, all dese traps out here, coulda' sworn it was one a' mine-"

"Stop, or I shoot."

He did as he was told. He was barely five feet away now, close enough to smell the sweat on the Drykas' brow. His insides growled, old Sunberth instincts demanding blood for the insult of a weapon being pulled on him. But Konrad hadn't survived into his fourth decade by being hasty, or stupid.

See the angles, he said, slowly lowering his arms. Say you rush him. Say you get to him and he doesn't stick you with that arrow. Then what? Cut his throat and leave him out here? Wouldn't take long for them to start questioning. They know you're always out this early... although... you could claim you found the body, and then they'd-

He shook his head free from the thoughts. Unfamiliar ground, was this, and a hostile city, despite the kindness the Pridesun pavilion had shown him. No, no, he would beat down his anger and tossed the dead bird at Brocton's feet, snare and all.

"No need fer that, friend," Konrad said, trying his best to wear a smile that didn't look like a grimace. "We're all..."

His words trailed off as his mind dragged his eyes down for a moment. He was hardly an experienced hunter but he'd been living with these nomadic folk for a while, learned from them, watched them to do just that... and those experiences had not been wasted. Not when learning and understanding and applying them kept his belly full.

So he knew what those indents were on the ground. The ones cross his path to the big Drykas, leading away and to the right, vanishing into the morning mist.

"I'll be takin' m'leave, friend," Konrad said lowly, already forgetting him. He'd had enough men pointing weapons at him to know if the Drykas was going to use that thing, he already would have. Konrad rubbed his face and started walking, stalking after those tracks. "Good morning."

Pavi. Enough to mollify a Drykas who saw naught but a thieving wahlak, he hoped. Besides, any chance to practice his new language.

So he left Brocton there, bow and arrow in hand, dead bird at his feet. He waited until the mist had made him indistinct and fuzzy, just a strange, lanky outline in the hanging cloud. Once he was so covered, he pulled the bow off his shoulder and notched an arrow of his own. Crouched down and squinted harder, mist making the tracks harder to see but... yes... oh, yes.

He damn well knew coyote tracks when he saw them.

[Konrad Venger]

It was early enough for the mist to shroud the steppe, but late enough that Syna was beginning to burn it away from the world. Konrad was growing familiar with that time of day: a prime bell or two for him to have light enough to see his prey, with enough shade and cover to do so without spooking them.

His eyes flickered down. The Drykas was a good chime or two behind him, but the tracks were still holding strong. He bent down and touched them... yes... the imprints were still sharp and crisp on the edges. Not worn down by time and rain and wind. The coyote hadn't been long past here but-

Konrad frowned. This was a risk. Coyotes were pack animals. Loners were rare among them, but he was only finding one track. An outcast, perhaps? Well, that would be fitting: one outlaw killing another. The Sunberth man smiled softly and straightened back up.

Everything seemed to be a factor now, once he took stock of it all. The storm that had raged and flooded them for days was over, but the ground was sodden and soft. It hid his footfalls, turning crunches into soft hisses. If the tracks were older than a day, they would have been obliterated... but Konrad knew that in the face of that much rain, the coyotes would not have hunted.

They were hungry, and desperate, and willing to venture close to Endrykas. Too close.

Shuffling in the grass ahead of him. Not just once, but a pattern, a rhythm. Like the feet of a creature trotting through the wet stalks, and something else beneath the sound... breath... snuffling... snort... sniffing?

He's hunting, too, Konrad thought, not daring to even breath through his mouth, let alone talk to himself. Still on the prowl.

He had to move so slowly, all the time. He felt the wind at his back, warm and slight, curling up and over his shoulders after racing down his spine... and realized it was blowing from behind him. Damn. That meant he was downwind. The animal would smell him, be warned off.

Too late. Keep moving.

He did, every step taking an age, placing each foot with such care that there was hardly a sound to mark his progress. His fingers had long since gone from sore to cramped to numb, gripping the bow and arrow he held. Sweat beaded down his face and raced down his scars and he ignored it. He was hungry, he was tired, and he was not going back another morning empty-handed.

There was... not a growl. A snuffle. A short, sharp snort of surprise, maybe ten yards ahead of him. Konrad peered through the tall grass and saw the fractured shape of what could have been... yes... a coyote. Still and turned his way, breath fogging in the air, unsure of what his nose was telling him.

But Konrad was sure, and he raised his bow.

[Konrad Venger]

It was too late to go back. Too late to try and find a better angle. The silhouette was maybe thirty paces away and still. Unmoving. Practically posing for him behind a curtain of grass. But Konrad knew even as he raised the bow and drew the string that wouldn't last. That motion itself would draw its head, snapping over his way-

The wind changed. Now it's blowing... to you. But this close, it won't matter.

He remembered what he'd learned. Every arrow he'd fired, bell he'd spent practicing, trudging back and forth between shooting point and target, every flap of skin he'd skinned off his bare arm after being gouged with the bowstring. He remembered Sloane. Irritating, beautiful little bitch. Konrad didn't have much capacity for fondness, but he respected balls, and she had plenty to spare. Not to mention skill with a bow, which was always useful.

Konrad pulled the string back, until the feathers were brushing his cheek and his arm was straight and straining. Shoulders... no, not tight. Relaxed. Ready to release. One eyes squinting through the drifting fog and warm air and the point of the arrow resting on-

The beast stirred a paw, started to turn-

TWANG

The sound of the string cracking so fast it slapped the air would have been enough to send it running, but the arrow it hurled was way ahead of it. The dog turned its head just as it made to run and as it did-

"Yes!"

-Konrad let out a feral snort of glee, misshapen lips stretching despite the pain in doing so, reveling in the sight of the arrow finding its mark... or thereabouts. Half of it seemed to vanish in the ribcage of the dog, impact knocking it back, piercing organs at it yelped and yowled and-

-he was already running, loping over mud and grass, pulling his kopis free as he went. A quick kill, that's what a hunter aimed for. Not chasing down some mortally wounded creature, wasting time and energy. The frenzied, thrashing silhouette became a rangy, sandy-brown coyote as Konrad closed in, kopis raised high.

Man and canine regarded each other for a frozen moment. Ribs so lean Konrad could count every last one. Eyes almost red with sleepless hunger. Every breath a keening wail into the air.

Then the kopis came down with a wet, heavy shunk. Then again. Then a third time, because when it came to killing, Konrad had already been thorough.

Blood dripped from the blade. The coyote's head lay a yard from it's body, still gasping out in agony, open forever in a silent shriek. Konrad was breathing heavy and let his knees give out under him, going down into a crouch and exhaling into the sky...

"Petch me," he said, words coming out more as adrenaline-shuddering breath than real words. "Can' believe I-"

The grassland growled. It came from all around him. The Sea of Grass itself shuddered with displeasure, outrage, sheer, naked anger that one of its children had been kiled. Konrad's jubilation shattered like a vase under a mallet, the man coming up and staying in a crouch, kopis ready in one hand, empty bow in another.

A shadow moved to his right. Something smaller than a man, but the sound... it was-

Not a groan from the earth. Not an echo from the grasslands. A chorus, and from mortal throats.

He looked around as the growls and snarls whirled around him like mist. Three... no, four shapes, lurking at first and then appear from the grass. Rangy and desperate as their fallen comrade; snouts bare of dried blood, lips pulled back from gleaming white canines. Days since they'd eaten. All sense and drive gone save for the primal need to eat.

Packs. They travel in packs.

From every point of a compass they came for him. For their new prey, their dead comrade, whom they would happily consume after this big human. Konrad swallowed hard, and readied himself.

[Konrad Venger]

He was afraid, but he didn't let it control him. He could feel it bubbling up in him like bile in his throat, but he swallowed it down. He focused. Konrad knew better than most how panic could kill a man in a brawl; instincts and experience mattered, but keeping your head? That mattered more.

Predators and prey circled, Konrad trying to face everywhere at once. He knew scavengers: as soon as his back was exposed for long enough, they'd go for him. he tried to listen above the rolling growls, eager for any sign of Endrykas. Hunters prowling, horses neighing, fires-

"Fire," he murmured. "That'll do it."

He'd seen the meat-eaters infesting the Sea of Grass grow bold throughout the season. Hunger and drought had driven them against Endrykas, even into the city proper at times, but they'd still shown their fear of fire. They prowled the outskirts, closer than many had sen them before... but the flames still made them wary.

Konrad wondered what they'd so when the flames were inches away from their faces. And coming from him.

He dropped the bow. Useless at that range. He kept the kopis ready and focused, harder than every before. His practice was paying off: he didn't even need to close his eyes to see the djed within him. He breathed in and felt the air spark over it in his lungs, spreading out like flaming oil through his veins. Then he raised his left hand-

"Back, ya shyke!"

-one got close, snapped art his heel and nearly ate three-feet of swinging metal instead. It skittered away with a yowl and the others backed off with it, back to circling, prying, waiting, testing...

Come... come now.

Glowing green was reflected in their hungry eyes as the res poured from his palm. Trailed upward like smoke from a dead Temper taper, pooled into a globe made real only by his will. He didn't need much, or so he thought, but he wanted to make it good.

He grew it. He circled and-

"Petch off!"

-they were getting closer. Bolder. Soon they wouldn't care for a cut or a bruise, as long as they took him down. The globe was wavering. His focus, his concentration, it would have to be-

Now.

Konrad blew the gassy mist away and it spread out like a glass orb shattered in the sky, spreading like a smear between of the coyotes-

-until he snapped his fingers and-

A cloud of flames bloomed in the air and the two coyotes closest to it yelped as if their very coats had been skinned from them. Konrad could see murderous hunger crushed by sheer, animal terror of The Red Pain of Man. Their tails tucked, they ran from the flames, even as they burned out in the mist-

The grass stirred behind him. Something barked. A scuffle of feet leaving the ground-

-Konrad was already turning, and his kopis went with him. With Reimancy, he still had much to learn. He didn't dare use it again, but his sword? That had been with him for far longer, and his slash was a thing of silver beauty as it-

-slammed into the torso of the coyote in mid-leap. Luck more than skill, perhaps. Whether it was Konrad's good luck or the coyote's bad, it had the same result: the beast's frothy snarl turned into a howl of pain, ribs crunched under steel, blood spewing from the gruesome tear as it crashed to the ground-

-along with the blade-

-stuck between ribs-

"Shyke!"

And the last coyote licked its damn lips as Konrad faced it with empty hands.

[Konrad Venger]

"Petch me!"

Fine, so he would later admit, at that point, maybe he'd panicked a little.

Konrad started to back up as the coyote stalked closer, every muscle tensed and ready to leap. Its lips were pulled so far back they almost seemed sheared off, rank upon rank of yellow teeth eager to greet him. Eyes black as coals but rimmed with red, sleepless and insane, stared through him with an avarice no human could equal. Konrad licked his lips and wondered if he could get to his dagger before-

His foot crunched something. Not a twig or branch, it was too solid-

The bow.

-and as he dropped down into a crouch the coyote leaped, trailing white froth behind it from open jaws, aching to clamp down around Konrad's-

Bow.

THUNK

In a blink Konrad was on his back, forty pounds of ravenous, emaciated, strong-through-madness coyote pawing and scratching on top of him... but not sinking its teeth in. He'd jerked up the bow just in time, and now he had a nostril-range view of the thing chewing its way through his weapon to get to him.

He didn't try to think. He didn't have time. He knew he had to end it. He knew he couldn't let go of the bow. So what did that leave him.

Petch it-

He pushed up as far as he could with the bow, pushing the coyote's head up and back until he could see its throat-

-then jerked his head forward, mouth open, roaring back in the beast's face-

The coyote screamed. Screamed and wailed and let go of the bow between its teeth. When it did Konrad threw his arms around its body, holding it closer, not letting it tear away from his grasp and come in for another snap. And all the while, his teeth and jaw ground, biting deeper, harder.

It felt like someone shoving a fetid, bristly brush down his throat, but he kept biting. Until salty blood filled his mouth and he felt the suggestion of his teeth meeting inside the coyote's throat and when he did-

His neck muscles bulged. Strained. But they obeyed, and when his head shot back, a chunk of bloody, furry flesh came with it-

-and Konrad was bathed in scarlet as he fell to his back yet again. He glimpsed what followed through a red curtain, constantly shaking and wiping it from his eyes. A ragged creature writhing, gurgling, choking, growling, howling blood and hatred as it made the mud bloody and spoiled. By the time he'd caught his breath, he could see the coyote's chest heaving, tongue lolling... Dira almost stroking its fur... bidding it a silent "come, now; don't keep me waiting".

He was tired. He was filthy. Adrenaline was leaking from his veins just as he needed it, to help numb the dozen or so cuts and scratches the coyote had managed. But he still hauled himself to his feet with a wheeze, finally reclaiming his kopis, his bow, cursing at the damage to it... and the headless coyote, arrow still sticking out. But what to do about-

Growling again. Further away. But probably getting closer. The two remaining pack members? Some other relatives. Something larger, meaner, hungrier? Konrad started to back away, shouldering the bow, coyote in one hand and getting ready to pull his kopis... until he saw the dying coyote.

Blood pooling everywhere around it. Stinking for all to smell.

"Keep 'em busy for me, eh?"

Konrad left the coyote with those words, and dying eyes watched him turn and lope away back towards Endrykas. Konrad hazarded a glance over his shoulder as the lights and pavilions of the city started to gain form out of the mist. He saw a hump on the ground... and shadows drawing closer to it... fresh meat, in no position to deny them.

"What in the hells...?"

He turned and found Sedon frozen with a cooking pot in his hands, mouth hanging open. He looked down and realized that yes, he may have a little bit of blood... everywhere. And he was carrying a headless coyote. Other Pridesun members were waking, whispering, staring and sniffing (or trying not to, in the latter case).

Konrad managed a smirk, hidden by the blood on his face, and raised the hefty load of furry meat.

"Breakfast."

[Khida]

Konrad Venger

Skill	Points
Brawling	+1
Butchering	+2
Diplomacy	+1
Hunting	+3
Intimidation	+3
Larceny	+1
Observation	+2
Reimancy	+1
Socialization	+2
Stealth	+1
Tactics	+1
Tracking	+2
Unarmed Combat	+1
Weapon: Shortbow	+1
Wilderness Survival	+1

• Brawling: interposing anything to save your throat
• Butchering: dispatching by decapitation
• Butchering: snapping a small bird's neck
• Coyote: scavenger that comes in hungry packs
• Diplomacy: making a polite exit
• Hunting: advantages of early morning
• Hunting: follow through quickly to avoid a drawn-out chase
• Hunting: the advantage of being downwind
• Intimidation: a fearsome roar in the face
• Intimidation: shying off with a brandished weapon
• Intimidation: spooking animals with fire
• Larceny: opportunity in someone else's snare
• Observation: the patterned sound of strides in the grass
• Quail: appearance and alarm call
• Reimancy: forming an airborne cloud of res
• Socialization, Drykas: everyone must be useful
• Socialization, Drykas: the wahlak stereotype
• Stealth: move slowly and with deliberation
• Tactics: leaving behind something of more value to the pursuit
• Tracking: coyote prints
• Tracking: crisp prints are more recent
• Unarmed Combat: biting through a throat
• Weapon, Shortbow: gauging effects of a contrary wind
• Wilderness Survival: taking food where you find it

Notes

Out of the frying pan, into the fire... and then again! Nicely done, and a great read!

You covered a lot in here; I think I got it all, but of course, please let me know if you think anything was overlooked. Also, please edit your request to show this thread has been graded.