Solo [Job Thread] Wolf Hunting

[Roderick]

8th of Fall The sun was shining over the Bronze Wood that day, yet Roderick barely felt its heat, strong as it was on his flesh. Treading carefully he followed the small outline of prints he'd discovered as he'd went about his business in the Wood. Originally he had come out into the crisp morning air in the hopes of catching himself a deer - he'd hunted them many times before, and so he was most confident when he was in pursuit of one. Recently though he'd noticed that there was a dwindling number of them in this particular area, in so far as he could tell from the diminished number of tracks he was finding. At first he had put it down to them moving on to a different area in order to escape the growing chill the permeated the Wood, but now he had become convinced that they were being driven away by a dangerous group of predators. Today he'd finally had enough. Searching the area for signs of passing deer he'd found the area to be frustratingly devoid of any markings or obvious trails. Meandering in agitation, his purpose for being there leaking steadily away from him, he only found the paw prints by sheer luck, almost standing on one as he made his way through a space between two bushes. Crouching down to inspect it he noted the way the different pads of the animal's paw had been pressed down into the dirt, while its claws had nicked the dirt before it lifted its weight from the ground and carried on. From there he found that he made greater progress than he had before, focusing specifically on the trail of the wolves, rather than everything around him; fixating on one kind of animal made tracking easier, at least in his mind. Wherever the beasts had been going, they were doing so at a fairly leisurely pace, judging from the spacing of the prints; if they had been running there would have been a greater distance between the various markings they had left behind. Picking up his pace Roderick briefly veered away towards a bush when he saw what appeared to be wolf fur snagged on its branches, but soon dismissed it as something else entirely; he was looking for a challenge today, and the wolves would provide him the perfect opportunity to sharpen his skills. Returning to the original trail he continued along the path they took, winding its way down hill and along the side of a broad stream, abruptly vanishing below the water's surface. Pacing back and forwards for a while he checked for where the water was fairly shallow, and then made his way across it, stepping into the chilling flow very briefly as he waded through, clenching his jaw as icy tremors went through his legs. Stepping out on the other side, he searched the opposite side for new tracks, finding no signs of any paw prints among the grass that grew here. Instead he located an area where it had been flattened and moved alongside it, noticing that it went in an almost perfectly straight line straight forwards before the wolves prints became visible again against the dirt of the forest floor. Brushing away some leaves to get a closer look at those marks he could see, he edged his way forwards for a time, trying to determine how many wolves there were. Being rather social animals, wolves always traveled in packs, which let him know there would be at least two or three that he would be facing off against. As he continued his inspection of the ground he decided that this conclusion was accurate, making out what he believed to be the paws of at least four wolves. The small size of some of them made him think that there was a young, adolescent wolf among them - though maybe that was wishful thinking. While being bitten by a young wolf wouldn't be any less painful, fighting one would be considerably easy compared to facing off against a fully-grown, well-muscled adult.

[Roderick]

Moving on when he was convinced that he could attain nothing more of interest from what he'd found, Roderick listened for any unusual disturbances - usually nearby birds would react to the presence of a nearby predator, either through their frightened chirruping, or their complete absence from the area. That he could hear nothing more than the crunching of his own boots against the leafy carpet around him sent a shiver along his spine; it seemed he'd caught up to the wolves sooner than he would have liked. Taking his bow from his back, he readied himself for a shot and walked on, testing the tension of his weapon as he went along in stony silence. Tightening and loosening the hold he had on the wooden half of his bow, he flicked his eyes around, looking for anything that could hint towards the beasts being nearby. Stalking through the trees he was practically daring his prey to try and attack him; if a leaf so much as shifted he would put an arrow through it. It was around that time that he heard the tell-tale sounds of his quarry being nearby; slight rustling and growling sounds up ahead alerted him to the presence of the beasts, while the silence that had fallen over everything else was painfully noticeable. Leaning against the trunk of a nearby oak, Roderick edged himself around it and peered out towards where the wolves were. As he’d expected, they were sniffing around the area, no doubt looking for his deer. He had absolutely no intention of allowing them to get away unscathed, of course, and so he quickly revealed himself like a deadly jack-in-the-box, loosing an arrow at the nearest beast he could see. Hiding away behind the tree again, he heard a yelp of pain and quickly moved on, preparing another shot as he went. Scuffling paws and growling filled his ears as he stepped from his cover once more, being greeted by the sight of about four wolves moving towards where he was, while a fifth lay dead in the background. Lining up a shot at the wolf that seemed to be making the most progress in the growing wave of man-eating balls of fur, he watched it fall with an arrow through the eye. Turning around he quickly dashed away from the clearing, freeing another arrow from his quiver as he went, feeling his ammunition shaking around inside the case as his boots pounded against the dirt. Breaking away from the path to delve into a large area of fragrant flowers, he skirted around the edge to avoid catching any of the scent on himself. At the very least though he imagined the wolves would be put off. One of the beasts was closer than he’d thought, though, and as he slowed to a stop and made to take cover behind a tree one wolf loomed up next to him, its jaws snapping while its claws worked to gain a hold on him. Giving his own yelp of surprise, Roderick jumped away from it, narrowly avoiding serious damage, and kicked it in the face, sending it sprawling back from the sheer force of it. Giving it another harsh kick it fled from him, taking cover in some nearby bushes. Safe in the knowledge that it wasn’t going to come after him any time soon, the hunter continued on the path he’d chosen, rushing away from the surprisingly large pack that was following him; now that he thought things through there appeared to be around seven of them, at the least. Part of him regretted going through with this, but the other half was too busy working to keep him alive to care about whether this had been a sensible idea or not.

[Roderick]

Now that he was thinking this over he knew he had to get off the ground – or at the very least he needed a height advantage. Infuriatingly enough he seemed to be on flat ground for the time being, and so he was forced to rely on his legs alone to escape the notice of the animals that were hot on his heels. The ground beneath his feet vanished for a moment and he was left in the air, plunging down to a lower edge which he hadn’t noticed. Landing heavily he grunted, stumbling and fighting for balance before he regained his composure and continued running; lungs burning he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep this up forever, and so he stopped and spun around, looking towards the approaching pack. Surprisingly enough they were quite far away – he thanked his long legs for that. With another arrow at the ready he spread his feet and turned sideways, drawing back fully to his cheek. He didn’t know the exact distance of his targets, but he didn’t have time to do any calculations. Instead he simply let the arrow fly away and watched it drop one of the wolves. While it got back to its feet, its pace was significantly slowed. Preparing a second he lined up another wolf and slowed his breathing as he prepared to take its life. Releasing his held breath, he drew air back into his lungs and felt his chest burning in complaint about the erratic behaviour it was being put through. Judging the distance and the speed with which the wolf was running, Roderick shifted his aim to compensate, moving his arm along slowly as the animal went before finally releasing his fingers from the string and watching it being injured in some vital organ, which set it sprawling into the nearest bush. Pausing had cost him some time, and he ran with renewed purpose, wondering if ignoring the large, slavering beast that was right behind him would keep it from eating him. If he slowed now to try and fight it head on he would surely be attacked, overpowered and eaten by the pack. Right now his best bet was to use the environment to his advantage. There was a ledge up ahead, behind which there was a stream – quite possibly the one he’d crossed earlier. A log presented a suitable obstacle for them both; judging from the sounds coming from behind, the wolf was going at quite some speed. Waiting until the very last moment before he put his plan into action, Roderick leaped off to one side, doing so with all the grace of a drunken horse on ice. Landing on his shoulder and rolling around in a spectacular display of his lack of acrobatics skills, he jumped back up to his feet as soon as he could, pleased to see the wolf had enjoyed a similar fate at the hands of the obstructive tree; it hadn’t been able to stop in time and, stumbling over the branch, was now thrashing around in the stream, thicker here than it had been where the hunter had crossed. Ignoring the pain in his arm, Roderick promptly gifted the beast with an arrow to the face and made a hasty withdrawal from the area as its friends drew near.

[Roderick]

So, how many is that? Thinking about how many wolves he’d just killed while being chased by more wolves proved to be a difficult job, unsurprisingly. He’d killed one wolf and had seen five others in the clearing with it; he’d killed a second wolf before he ran from the clearing; the third and fourth had been wounded and killed, respectively, while the fifth had just been put down as it lay in the stream a short distance behind him. If what he believed was true, that left one badly injured, partially-limping wolf and a sixth that would be in full health, hungry and – most importantly – very angry. Glancing behind him Roderick could only see the injured wolf slowing to a stop as it neared the water’s edge. From the looks of things it had been hit dangerously close to the throat; it would die on its own, soon enough. Right now he wasn’t worried about doomed wolves; he was more interested in finding out where the petch the last one had went. The slightest rustling of a nearby bush was all the warning he had. Snapping around to face it paused for a moment as it saw that he had noticed it. Lurking nearby in the bushes, it watched him carefully. As Roderick planted his boots firmly on the ground, the wolf began to advance, slowly. The hunter set an arrow into place on the string and slid himself into his stance, standing sideways with his left arm stabbing out towards the wolf. Tugging the string back into place he felt his heart thudding in his chest, but his face didn’t convey how he was feeling. Right now he was consumed in his task; if someone had hit him over the head with a brick he probably wouldn’t have noticed. The wolf charged, leaping forward in great bounds as he finished his preparations. It growled and snarled – snapped at him. Hurtling forward, jaws open to devour him, the hunter aimed, sure his heart would shatter his ribs. Roderick knew he couldn’t miss; he would die if he did. His mind screamed and howled for his body to act, but on the outside everything was calm; the hunter’s eyes stared the wolf down as it rushed at him. At last he released the arrow. It took the wolf through the side of the neck, spearing through flesh and muscle and spraying blood across the dirt. The beast didn’t stop – it barrelled into the hunter – his bow cast aside, all but forgotten. Roderick felt its pelt rub against his flesh – smelt the blood flowing down its fur – the bitter stench of rotten meat and death pouring from its muzzle. Sharp teeth snapped at his face, while claws scrabbled for purchase. Without any real plan in mind, Roderick simply reached up with his hands and grabbed at the animal’s neck, holding its muzzle away from his face while he wrestled with it. Oppressively crushing him, it took all his strength just to keep it from tearing his face off. Even then he found the position he was rather uncomfortable. Blood dripped down onto his face, hot and wet – and sticky. As the beast’s claws met flesh, it sank its barbs in – sharp pain lanced over his face. Blood ran down his cheek, tickling him slightly. Pushing its muzzle away, he pushed at it and managed to raised himself from the dirt slightly. Suddenly he had his dagger in hand – he felt its point slamming through muscle – rending flesh. He felt the animal’s resistance give way and he pushed it fully from him and plunged his dagger into its head again. It’s hot blood poured forth, unchecked; the hunter’s neck became a red, sticky mess. Still the wolf seemed to fight against him – its claws flailed about as it mouth opened and closed feebly – drool and blood running over his arm. At last it gave a vicious spasm and stilled. The hunter pushed it away from him weakly, its corpse thudding against the dirt. Closing his eyes he lay down and wheezed for a moment, letting the pain take over for a while. It ran its course over his body, which felt ravaged from its exertions. When his breath had returned Roderick sat up and looked at the dagger in his hand, seeing the gory red mess it had become; his right arm was red halfway up his wrist. The wound to his face continued to drip blood, mixing in with the wolf’s and running off his chin and onto his neck. Standing and wiping it away, Roderick saw that the other wolf had all but surrendered, having fled away into the treeline at some point. Looking around in silence, he observed his handiwork and felt proud and accomplished; while he hadn’t faced off against them all at once, he had bested a pack of wolves, and that was something he knew he could be proud of. Wiping his dagger on the grass nearby he collected his bow and slipped it away, before turning back to the corpse. He’d make this one into a cloak, he decided, as he started dragging it’s by the hind legs.

[Accolade]

Hello again, I will add this grade once you have fixed the issues with your other thread. Though I should tell you that I'm seeing a pattern of over playing in all of your threads. Expert archer is impressive, but for him to be able to dodge, slip past, and out run a group of wolves with such novice skills in running, and acrobatics is hard to believe. I also I doubt he could kick a wolf hard enough to make it run off crying with under 10 in brawling or unarmed combat.