Completed [The Bronze Woods] Tricks and Traps

Nathaniel is determined to try to bring home /something/ worthwhile. Only time will tell if he will succeed...

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Stretching northward along the coastline of the Suvan Sea, the Cobalt Mountains are the home of the Bronze Wood, numerous ruins, and creatures both strange and fantastical.

[The Bronze Woods] Tricks and Traps

Postby Nathaniel Deveraux on October 22nd, 2013, 3:22 am

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Day 61, Season Spring, 505 AV


Nathaniel was up early that day. Syna had barely risen and he was already out of bed, padding quietly so as not to wake his sisters or his mother sleeping peacefully in their rooms. Even this early in the morning, Nate knew that any loud creaks of the floorboards might wake up Kat, who was a notoriously fitful sleeper who woke at the slightest sound. Tiptoeing his way past their rooms, he quickly gathered his gear, packing up his backpack, rucksack, bow and quiver, as well as his father's Kukri which he stuffed into his belt. Yesterday had been an incredibly disappointing hunt, and Nate was determined to make today better.

How exactly he was going to do that was a different story though. Nate decided that hunting rabbits was definitely not something he could accomplish with a bow. At least not at his current level of accuracy with the weapon. After the debacle yesterday he figured the best chance he'd have to capture the little creatures would be to trap them. Except he had no idea how to trap rabbits. Which left him in a quandary.

Deciding to leave the issue of how to capture rabbits for another time, Nate shook his head slightly to clear it of the cobwebs still inside as he strode out the gates of Syliras toward the Bronze Woods. The cool morning air was quite bracing, and he smiled slightly despite the fact that the cold would do his bowstring no favors; nor would the wet dew the morning often brought. Taking care to string his bow properly, Nate turned toward the large, imposing trees of the forest. The long shadows cast by the not-quite-fully-risen Syna made the trees seem larger and more foreboding somehow, the deep purple of night not quite banished by the bright rays, clinging to the forest floor like a carpet.

Nate checked the ground to see if there was anything worth seeing, but in the dim light, tracking was difficult to impossible. Human eyes were simply not built for such work, and after a few chimes of fruitless searching, he simply leaned against a tree and took out his kukri from his belt, running a finger over the smooth side. If he allowed himself, Nate would remember the night he received this blade. It should have been a moment of joy. It was anything but.

Banishing the depressing thoughts from his head, Nate strode forward and took a few careful steps forward, holding the kukri in front of him defensively. The sun had not risen, and until it did, he might as well practice with his melee weapon of choice. The curved blade was excellent for stabbing since it curved toward the opponent, and Nate lunged forward, stabbing the air in front of him with the point of the curved, single-edge knife. He noted that he did not need to bend his wrist in order for the end to still go into the enemy, allowing him to stab forward with less effort than would otherwise be required of him.

Obviously, there was a long cutting edge along the inner curvature, and Nate made a few practice swings through the air, slicing the morning dew as the kukri whistled past. The way the kukri knife was weighted, much of the weight was on the end, so the blade felt slightly heavy as Nate swung it, as though the knife would spring out of his hand. He surmised it was weighted like this to lend weight to the chopping motion, allowing the blade to slice through thicker things, like dense underbrush, or muscle, or bone.
Last edited by Nathaniel Deveraux on October 23rd, 2013, 1:32 am, edited 2 times in total.
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[The Bronze Woods] Tricks and Traps

Postby Nathaniel Deveraux on October 22nd, 2013, 3:48 am

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Most people, Nate guessed, probably imagined a human opponent when practicing using the kukri, but he himself was imagining something else. He was imagining something with fur, and teeth, and claws, all sinewy strength and ferocious speed, clawing and scratching and leaping at him. Unconsciously, his left hand went up to quietly rub the area where the lynx had scratched him. The marks were not quite as bad now, just an angry red that would eventually fade to a set of scars, but it was a constant reminder that the danger out here was very real, and could come from anywhere. A sobering lesson that, honestly, Nate thought he'd learned already.

He continued his chopping motion with the kukri, and then imagined he was once again facing the lynx. Or that young cougar that had gotten to his kill first, jaw crimson from the blood of the slain doe at their feet. What could he do in that situation. Nate got into what felt like a natural stance, low, almost crouched, arms crooked and set somewhat wide apart, kukri in the right hand held at the ready, prepared to stab or slash at a moment's notice.

Having seen the beasts of the woods in action, Nate knew that these creatures were both quick and ruthless. Nate knew most of the large cats were ambush predators; if he could see the beast it was likely already too late. So he was better served learning how to recognize the territories of the large cats, the better to avoid them, rather than practice what to do to take them head-on.

Regardless, Nate continued his practice anyway, imagining the cougar lunging for him. He did not know the speed of a cougar lunge, but he'd seen that lynx move and it was nearly a blur. If they were anywhere near as fast as the rabbits were yesterday, he wasn't nearly good enough to leap out of the way, but he would certainly try, and so Nate tested his balance in his low stance, before suddenly throwing himself to the left, almost jamming the end of his kukri into his left pectoral as he tumbled into the dirt, rolling slightly before coming to a stop.

OK, that was a stupid idea, Nate thought, as he got up and dusted himself off. He needed to learn how to throw himself off to the side without risking injury to himself with his own weapon. Getting back to his crouching position, he tried to imagine the cougar once again, its powerful muscles cording in its back, tensing up to leap forward... Nate threw himself to the right, grunting as he felt his shoulder impact the hard earth and he rolled forward, making sure not to have the point of the kukri jam itself into his chest or legs as he did so.

The tumble was... mostly successful, he decided, if incredibly clumsy. The key there wasn't so much how good the tumble was, the key was how fast it was. And unfortunately, Nate suspected at the moment any wild animal was likely going to move faster than he could react. Still, if he tumbled the moment the other animal so much as twitched it was possible he might be able to avoid the worst of the damage. Or at least, so he hoped.

Picking himself up and dusting himself off, Nate got back into that low crouching stance one last time. Syna had already risen almost all the way up, and the golden light filtered through the trunks of the trees and cast an orange glow on the trunks, leaves, and ground. Technically, Nate realized he could begin hunting now, but he decided for one last practice round.

The imaginary cougar was once again crouched before him, only two or three feet away, ready to pounce on him. Sinewy muscle beneath tawny fur, the invisible cat's wicked fangs were exposed in a yowl that was simultaneously a challenge and a warning. Then the cat attacked, pouncing on Nate and he swung the kukri forward, looking to impale the tip of the knife into the animal's heart, but he realized his aim was too high and the edge carved against the beast's shoulder; drawing significant blood but the cougar was on top of him now, scratching and clawing, the inches long claws gouging deep wounds in his forearms, chest, face...

Nate shook the images from his head. He was alone in the woods. There was no cougar. His breath came out in shaky gasps, and he could feel a cold sweat all over him. Had that been a real attack, he probably would have died, but at least he made a single swing before he went down. Nate was absolutely sure he was not fast enough to catch a cougar, but apparently his imagination wanted to drill home just how unprepared he was to meet the dangers that existed out here.

Nonetheless, the sun was up. Realizing that he was holding the handle of the kukri so hard that the knuckles were beginning to turn white, Nate released the grip slightly, feeling a slight strain in his finger muscles as he did so. Stuffing the weapon back into his belt, Nate picked his bow and quiver back up, and setting his shoulders, walked deeper into the woods.
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[The Bronze Woods] Tricks and Traps

Postby Nathaniel Deveraux on October 22nd, 2013, 4:36 am

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With the morning sun streaming in from the east, Nate began his search for useful things in earnest. He had some success before, at the watering hole, so he decided to try that trick again. After all, deer needed to drink water, just like any other animal, and if there was one thing he'd learned it was that animals of the wild were creatures of habit. Just like rabbits preferred to stay within a certain radius of their holes, deer preferred certain locations to drink from. So he wound his way to the small lake he'd seen, so many days ago. Gods, it felt like a lifetime ago.

As the trees thinned out and he saw the glimmering water ahead, Nate realized it might be too early in the day for deer to make an appearance. They tended to graze during early mornings, but he wasn't sure it was worth his time to find a grazing clearing and wait there. He may, or may not, see a deer in such clearings, since it would not be the only clearing available for deer to graze in. But if the track marks indicate a particular pond was a watering hole, then the animals almost always show up there; it was simply a matter of waiting.

In the meantime, Nate decided to see if there wasn't anything he could perhaps harvest or utilize from the pond. There were, of course, dandelions and plantains growing rampant across the green floor of the forest, both of which were wholly edible. Most weeds were, in fact, but Nate knew those two were in the most abundance, so he figured to pass the time by harvesting some.

Nate didn't even need to use his kukri for the harvest, simply plucking the yellow heads off the wild dandelions, and plucking off the green base underneath the flower, pinching at it to remove as much of the bitter white sap as he could, before dropping the flower into his rucksack. After about only five chimes, he had a nice gathering of the yellow flowers in his rucksack, and he knew that, while not entirely filling, these flowers could serve as a light snack to keep him going.

The plantains were not nearly as common, but their almost lotus-like leaf structures jutted out from the grass like small castles, and it was fairly easy for Nate to locate the delicate young leaves in the center, which he plucked with the help of the sharp end of his kukri and bit of working of the blade. These leaves were in fact, perfectly edible raw, and Nate decided to chew on a few of them before tossing the rest into the rucksack with the dandelion heads.

In the water, Nate noticed the tall, thin stalks of the cattail, so named because at the very top there was a fuzzy protrusion that looked much like the upright tail of a feline. Cattail were a perennial species of plant, and he knew the pollen from the part of the plant that gave it its name was both excellent as a source of nutrition - cattail pollen could in fact even be made into dough like wheat - and for use in healing with cuts and abrasions. Nate's little tumbles earlier, while not leaving any large scratches, had left small abrasions that, while technically only needed to be cleaned, could certainly benefit from the cattail pollen.
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[The Bronze Woods] Tricks and Traps

Postby Nathaniel Deveraux on October 22nd, 2013, 4:56 am

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Taking off his socks and shoes, Nate placed them along the shore of the small pond and rolled up the legs of his pants, then waded into the shallow water toward the towering, waving stalks of the cattails. Taking out the kukri from his belt he swung in a quick chopping motion at the base of the cattail while holding onto the stem, quickly hacking down one, then two, then three of the tall plants. He would harvest more, but he did not want to wipe out the population of the useful herb, and his hand could only hold three stems anyway.

Wading his way back to shore, Nate laid the cattails horizontally across his lap, the heads of the cattails now between his legs and the rucksack open underneath. With the inside blade of the kukri, Nate drew the blade across the head of the cattail, essentially scraping the pollen off, and into the bag where it could be kept and stored. He rotated the plant and did it again, repeating the action until the entire plant had been stripped of its pollen. Then he did the same for the other two. In the end, the rucksack had a small pile of the stuff, and Nate then took out his waterskin and took a handful of the pollen into his right hand.

With his left he carefully poured some of the drinkable water onto the cattail pollen, dampening it. Then, he carefully laid the waterskin down so as not to spill any of the contents, then rubbed the hands together until the result was something of a pasty mixture. He then daubed the mixture onto his forearms and shoulders, where the majority of the minor abrasions had occurred. The mildly antiseptic nature of the paste would aid in the healing of the abrasions, and it also had a cool, soothing feel to it that helped combat some of the aching those abrasions tended to have.

Having applied the topical cream, Nate decided that he'd done enough gathering. He reached into the bag and snagged a dandelion head. Popping it into his mouth, Nate closed up the rucksack and returned his kukri to his belt. Deciding that mud would have to suffice for the time being, Nate once again applied it to his face and hands, but this time decided to at least try and mimic some of those better hunters. Deciding that part of masking his scent was to make himself smell like the area around him, he chose to use the acorns he found dropped onto the ground. Using the butt-end of the kukri, he cracked these nuts open to get at the pungent oils inside, which he then proceeded to also rub on his face and hands, hoping that the heavy scent of acorn oil would cover the scent of human that would frighten deer away.

Having done his bit to try to hide his presence, and the mud on his face hopefully breaking up the obvious light patch against the green it would have been, Nate dipped his finger into the pond slightly before holding it up, testing which way the wind was blowing. It seemed to be going left to right from the direction he was standing, so he trudged off to the right, but not before doing a survey of the ground surrounding the lake and confirming that yes, the trail he'd seen before seemed still fresh. He still couldn't tell which tracks were recent, but the fact that the tracks were still so numerous suggested the hole was still in use.

Settling down in a small clear area surrounded by smaller elms and a massive oak, Nate crouched down, glancing down at his bow to ensure it was in good condition; twanging the string to ensure its tension. The last thing he needed was for the string to break. Then, satisfied at last, Nate settled down, and waited.
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[The Bronze Woods] Tricks and Traps

Postby Nathaniel Deveraux on October 22nd, 2013, 5:10 am

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Unlike before, the deer didn't seem to want to show after about a bell of fruitless waiting, and Nate was getting somewhat impatient. Not to mention, the caked mud on his face was starting to irritate him again. Nate decided that if the deer were not going to show up anytime soon, perhaps he'd be better of trying to construct a shelter, just in case he needed to have a temporary camp here to prepare his kills.

He was already next to the large oak, so he decided to use that as his anchor. Around it, he started to gather as many pieces of wood as he could, everything from twigs the size of his hand to branches that could charitably be termed logs, and nearly everything in between. He searched in a small radius around where the oak was and dragged the wood together into a rather disheveled pile. From this pile, Nate picked out the largest branches, and with several quick hacks of the kukri was able to remove the smaller branches that stuck out of them.

Taking the largest one, he leaned it against the oak, stomping on the end that was touching the ground to drive it like a stake. A lean-to needed a fairly sturdy spine, after all. Then, Nate began laying the shorter but thicker branches diagonally, starting with the shortest pieces and working his way up to the larger ones, until the skeleton of a lean-to appeared on the eastern face of the oak tree. Nate nodded, and then went to gather bundles of leaves that had managed to fall to the ground. Being that it was spring, there were not in fact all that many, so he ended up gathering armfuls of moss instead. Laying it like a carpet against the skeleton of the lean-to, Nate covered up the holes left by the space between the various sticks until he had a small makeshift shelter.

Inside this shelter, he cleared the ground of as many of the stones and pebbles as he could, and then laid the rest of the moss on the ground as a sort of cushion. Nate looked about for decently-sized stones, ideally around the size of his fist or larger. After some rooting around the roots of the surrounding trees he manged to dig up a dozen or so such rocks, which he arranged in a circle in front of his lean-to. Inside this circle he had placed a small bundle of wood, as well as two larger pieces of wood and a handful of cattail pollen, which in addition to a helpful healing paste and a food source, was also an excellent fire starting tinder material as well.

But before Nate could start his fire, he saw motion on the other end of the lake. Success! He knew for sure he could not hit the deer from where he was, but he also knew that he was also less likely to frighten it off from this distance as well. Picking up his bow and quivers, and sticking the kukri in his belt, Nate padded away from his newly-built shelter and beginnings of a fire, and around the lake to where his quarry was placidly drinking.
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[The Bronze Woods] Tricks and Traps

Postby Nathaniel Deveraux on October 22nd, 2013, 5:44 am

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It was a buck again, this time. Its large antlers protruding proudly from its head, hanging over the water as hit continued to lap at the liquid, every so often lifting its head before bending back down to drink some more. Nate was smart enough to realize that any shot further than thirty feet was a hopeless exercise. Even twenty feet might be too far, ideally he should aim for fifteen if he could. Ten would be best, but at those distances the deer was almost certain to spot him and he couldn't take that chance.

His movement around the far end of the pond was quick and deliberate, but as quiet as he could make it. He stuck close to the tree-line to try to mask his movement as much as possible, ducking into brush and shrubbery whenever possible to break up his silhouette and make him more difficult to spot agains the background. Nate knew speed was key here; the buck was not going to drink forever and he needed to get within firing range before the big guy decided his thirst was quenched.

As he approached, Nate made sure to nock an arrow beforehand, having already retrieved one from the quiver behind him. Feeling the fletching with his thumb, Nate didn't even look down as he felt the notched fletching that told him which one to lay against the string of his shortbow. Once nocked, Nate then grasped the other end of the arrow lightly with his right hand's forefinger, snagging it against the bow but ready to let go at a moment's notice in order to draw the arrow back.

Nate continued to pad forward. Now around thirty feet, but the buck, it seemed, was about finished with its drink. Crouching down low, Nate approached from behind the animal, getting to within twenty feet, nineteen, eighteen... at sixteen feet Nate decided that was close enough. He finally fully drew the bow, all the way to his bicep as per his usual, and given the addition of a foot decided to aim just a bit higher up than normal to compensate. His target was the animal's head; a small target, but then not as small as a rabbit and in this case, also not moving.

Still, Nate made sure to take at least three or four ticks to aim, before taking a deep breath. He'd never tried to make a shot like this before, but then if he aimed for the body, he was almost certain not to get a kill shot. Or even a wound shot that would have caused any crippling injury to the animal. In addition, it would slightly ruin the pelt on that side of the deer, reducing its value.

Headshots were notoriously difficult, however, and attempting one was a bit of hubris on Nate's part. He knew he wasn't nearly good enough to make a shot like that, but decided to take a chance on it. He simply didn't want to have to aim at the body only to hit it in the flank and have it run off, never to be seen again. The one time he'd managed to nab his kill was when the final blow was delivered by a cougar, who had not been very willing or happy to share.

Nate exhaled though his mouth, the breath whooshing out of his lungs as the arrow sailed from his bow, leaping out like a prisoner released from jail. The arrow followed a pleasant parabola across the sky, before the deadly arc terminated with the arrow embedding itself in the buck's neck, just between the esophagus and the shoulder blade.
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[The Bronze Woods] Tricks and Traps

Postby Nathaniel Deveraux on October 22nd, 2013, 7:33 am

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The large buck brayed in pain and fear, its large brown eyes wide with terror as it practically bounced in the air from surprise at the arrow's presence in its flesh. Nate just swore. He hadn't expected to hit the head, but he'd hoped that even if he missed he'd at least get a neck shot. Or if he was lucky, maybe a throat shot. Instead, he hit it basically in the collarbone area, if deer even had collarbones. The large creature acted like the arrow wasn't even there, however, and took to its heels immediately, dashing off into the forest and leaving Nathaniel dumbstruck.

What?!

He'd hit the petching with an arrow! Seriously, most humans would've been at least somewhat affected by having an arrow sticking out of their body. Sure he didn't hit a vital area, but he saw the blood that was flowing from the injury. Surely that buck had to have felt something! Growling and snarling his impotent rage, Nate pressed forward, eyes looking for the tell-tale droplets of blood on the ground. They were further spaced than before, and Nate presumed this was because he hit the deer higher on its body and thus, the blood had to travel down the creature's flanks before reaching the ground.

It mattered little, really, since the deer had crashed through underbrush that was clearly trampled as the heavy animal passed through, grasses bent to the side and a few daubed pinkish-red from the shed blood. He could hear something rustling up ahead, so he bent down to reduce his silhouette and carefully crept up past a few large trunks, and saw that the deer had laid down near some thistle and was busy licking the wound that Nate had caused. Well the stupid thing could lick all it wanted, it was still going to die.

Nate withdrew another arrow from his quiver, and quietly stepped forward. His eyes were trained on the deer; on occasion it would lift its head from licking its wounds; it was clear the creature was wary that Nate would come to finish the job. Which was, of course, exactly what he planned to do. But as he stepped forward, he had the hard luck to step on a twig.

"Craaaack!"

In actuality, the sound was not in fact very loud at all, but in Nate's ears it might as well have been a thunderclap. The buck, of course, rose to its feet and fled instantly, leaving Nate sputtering and cursing and nearly stamping his feet in frustration. This was absurd! Nonetheless, he at least still had that blood trail to follow, so follow it he did. The deer, it seemed had taken a more northerly route, past what appeared to be a game trail and toward a slightly rockier section of the Bronze Wood.

Just past a few elm trees, Nate caught sight of his quarry yet again. This time it had foregone sitting down, now standing up and licking its wound. That arrow must have seriously bothered it if it would be stopping this often to lick it. Nate approached slowly again, this time each step forward, he felt with his foot, trying to feel without seeing the things that were on the ground in front of him. When he was close enough, about fifteen to fourteen feet, Nathan stopped, raising his bow while readying the arrow at the same time.

Nate took a few calming breaths through his nose, and out his mouth. With one final inhalation, Nate drew the string to his bicep and counted. One tick passed. Two ticks. Three. By the fourth tick Nate released the arrow, and it flew across to land itself in the deer's rump. Not quite where Nate had been aiming; he wanted to catch the deer in the flank or leg, to try to slow it down, but the rump was a large, fatty area with little lean muscle for his arrow to disrupt. All-in-all, another wasted shot. The deer seemed to agree, of course, because it took off yet again, leaving a small cloud of dust on the ground in its wake.
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[The Bronze Woods] Tricks and Traps

Postby Nathaniel Deveraux on October 22nd, 2013, 11:59 pm

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Nate couldn't even take comfort in the fact that he'd hit the animal twice in a row, when there had been a time when hitting it once would have been a small miracle. The simple fact was, after bells of waiting, and two arrows, this petching animal was still up and about when it should be dead or dying. Nate almost wished for another cougar to pounce on it; sure there was the chance of being mauled by the same cougar but at least it would cause the stupid beast to stop running.

As before, the buck did not run very far. As Nate followed the blood trail, which had become more prominent now that he'd injured the deer in multiple locations, he made sure to keep a sharp lookout, as well as an ear pricked, for any signs of predators. The cougar from before had showed him that injuring an animal often attracted other carnivores to the scent of fresh blood, and the last thing he needed was a pack of hungry baying wolves descending on him.

The trail faded slightly as Nate realized they'd made a long loop and the buck had run back toward the pond again. Or was it a different pond? He couldn't really tell. Nate was awful at directions; his sisters taunted him constantly about how he got lost, and how he probably learned basic survival skills mainly to compensate for his shocking lack of navigational ability. He genuinely couldn't tell if it was the same pond. It looked similar, but then all ponds looked similar... didn't they?

In any case, the buck was once again licking its wounds, its proud brown-and-white pelt now stained pink with blood. Nate knew that if he chased the thing long enough he'd either lead him to the herd, and he might get easier pickings, or he'd die from blood-loss and shock. Being a decent field medic himself, Nate knew that for a human at least, sustaining those sorts of injuries meant either you got treatment within two or three bells, or you're beyond anyone's help. But of course, he didn't know if that also applied to deer.

In any case, he didn't want to chance it. Withdrawing yet a third arrow, Nate readied his bow and drew the string back, lifting the bow slightly. This one was going to be a trickier shot. It was over the water; but the water was thin here, and the distance was not that far; only around twenty feet or so. The short bow did not have the range a longbow had, but Nate thought this distance was still reachable. This time, as Nate closed his left eye and aimed, he chose the buck's broad side as his target, to give himself the best chance of hitting.

Taking a breath or two to calm himself, Nate studied the shot for another tick, his mind trying to decide if this was even a good idea. Did he ford the water? If he did that the deer would run for sure. But there were so many factors in this shot he didn't know. The shots from before had been closer, so he hadn't really tried to compensate for wind, or the automatic shaking of his hands that was difficult to control. All these tiny things that had a significant impact on the accuracy of a shot, especially at that distance.

There really wasn't a choice. Nate took one last breath, held it, and released both the air from his lungs and the arrow from the bow at the same time. The parabola it made over the water was pretty enough, and for the tick or so it took to get over the water, Nate took in the tranquil beauty of the morning sun reflecting on the crystal pond. The arrow missed the target by about a food, landing into the thick grass where the beast was laying with a soft "phud". Nate sighed. Oh of course. And as it bounded off again, he realized something else. If this wasn't the same pond, he might be lost. Again.
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[The Bronze Woods] Tricks and Traps

Postby Nathaniel Deveraux on October 23rd, 2013, 12:23 am

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This was fast becoming annoying. Very, very, very annoying. As Nate stormed forward to see if he could even find his arrow he started wondering if the petching buck was even worth the trouble at this point. He could have returned to the feeding grounds by now; it was midday and surely there would be a nice doe or fawn he could shoot that wasn't apparently made of iron. Rooting among the tall grass, Nate couldn't see the tell-tale feathering of the arrow he'd lost, and giving it up for lost, he just continued onward. That buck's antlers and hide had better be worth something substantial.

The trail was fairly easy to pick up again; after he'd crossed the pond he noted that the blood was pooling a bit more, which meant that probably the licking was aggravating the wound. Poor animal didn't realize it was making things worse for itself. Nate really could wait for the creature to simply collapse from blood-loss, but that could take all day, and even then it might not happen. No, he should try to kill it as soon as possible. So he pressed forward, noting the blood trail as it led past some loamy soil that took prints quite well. Nate made sure to check there weren't the tell-tale paw-prints of one of the big cats.

Truthfully, he wouldn't have been able to tell the difference between a cougar print, a wolf print, or a bear print, but none of those animals would be good news for him, so any paws meant he should probably either be very much on his guard or, if he were smarter, just simply leaving the area. Thankfully there weren't any such prints that he could see. Which if he'd been more experienced he'd realize that didn't mean there weren't prints he couldn't see.

The buck was once again sitting down, head bent over its flank to lick at the arrow wound on its hind quarters. Despite the area being relatively insulated, and thus not generally considered a lethal shot area, the blood loss did seem to be taking its toll on the animal since there was a shorter and shorter period of time before it would pause. Nate took another arrow from his quiver. He didn't really have that many arrows left, and to be honest he realized he needed to conserve himself or else he'd run out. Normally, since he missed so much, he was at least able to retrieve arrows that didn't hit their mark, but the one in the tall grass just refused to be located.

At least this time, he didn't have to shoot over water, so he could get a bit closer, to a range he was more comfortable with. Nocking the arrow to the string, Nate drew the bow up and the string back, taking careful aim as he observed the buck's antlers move with its head, bobbing slightly as it licked its wound and unwittingly making the wound larger. Once again aiming for the body, Nate whooshed out a breath as his arrow flew across in a path both straight and true. The missile landed in the buck's back, and it brayed as it felt the pain of the arrow entering its flesh.

Well at least he hit, as he'd wanted, but the buck didn't seem affected at all. It simply got up, brayed another couple of times, and dashed off into the woods, droplets of crimson life trailing behind it. Nate sighed, and seriously considered just letting it go. But three arrows. Three. There was no way to justify that kind of expense for absolutely no return. With a groan, he got up from his crouch to try to chase down the elusive beast.
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Nathaniel Deveraux
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[The Bronze Woods] Tricks and Traps

Postby Nathaniel Deveraux on October 23rd, 2013, 12:36 am

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Well, alright. The buck was definitely hurt this time. It was only ten chimes before Nate had caught up to it, and its entire body seemed to be shaking and quivering, as though it were cold despite the warm Spring air. That was normal; the creature had lost a lot of blood and now had three gaping wounds it seemed to insist on making worse by licking them. And as Nate watched the buck, he wondered what he should do.

On the one hand, he could just keep chasing the creature until it was simply too tired and too injured to run. Blood loss was clearly catching up to it, and thus its endurance would be far inferior to the uninjured Nathaniel. On the other hand, every tick out here increased the chances of predators. And then Nate smelled it. Urine. Shyke. He'd been concentrating so hard on catching the stupid buck he hadn't considered the possibility they might have run into the territory of another hunter. Another hunter such as a cougar, or a jaguar, or some other form of large cat.

Nate really did not feel like sharing his kill again, but he didn't know if he had nearly the skill to take on a large cat and win. And the sharp odor of urine was fresh in the air, a clear warning that he had strayed into enemy territory. Nate's every muscle tensed, his eyes sweeping back and forth as he backed away from the buck. The only advantage he had was the fact that if this was the territory of some large cat they probably would be more interested in the wounded buck than the uninjured human. He hoped.

That was when he saw movement to his left. Swiveling fast in that direction, he quickly retrieved an arrow and nocked it to the bow, eyes wide in anticipation of a hurricane of teeth and claws. The grass was still, however, and the arrow did not fly. Nate decided it was simply too dangerous to continue this hunt. He'd wasted three whole arrows, and gotten nothing for it. He would need to figure something out next time he tried to hunt deer.

Backing away from the buck, still licking its wounds, Nate swore inside as he realized he was giving up a fantastic prize to go home with a bag full of weeds and pollen, rather than mizas and real food. It was absurd to think that he even called himself a hunter at this point. But he knew better than to take on large predators when he could barely even hit a deer at fifteen paces, to say nothing of a fast-moving carnivore looking to lunge at him.

With a heavy sigh, Nate watched the silhouette of the deer vanish behind the tree-line as he continued to back away, turning around occasionally to confirm that there wasn't a cougar right behind him, ready to pounce. The smell of urine and scat slowly faded, although that didn't mean he was out of danger. Nate could feel his heart thunder in his chest, and he couldn't help but think back to that deer he'd spend the entire morning hunting to no avail. What was the point of it all? And how the petch did that animal stay alive with three arrows in it?! Not questions Nate could answer, but nonetheless he softly padded away from the scene.
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Nathaniel Deveraux
Family First.
 
Posts: 170
Words: 232089
Joined roleplay: October 17th, 2013, 4:21 am
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Character sheet
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Plotnotes
Medals: 1
2013 Mizahar NaNo Winner (1)

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