Solo [Job Thread] Deer Hunting

[Roderick]

9th of Fall, 513 AV, The Bronze Wood A leafy carpet beneath his feet the hunter crept along carefully, doing his best to remain as silent as he could be. Placing each foot down before slowly lowering it until it was completely flat, all the time checking for any excessive noise, he inched his way through the Wood gradually, following the different signs in the area around him. Birds were still chirruping around him, so anything that was nearby was almost certainly not a predator. Rather than wandering out into the woods and meandering until he found some tracks he could follow, Roderick had instead returned to an area he had been to before - a deer trail which he was sure could provide him with all the meat he would need for that day. Given the fact that deer preferred to be up and about in the early hours of the morning he had decided to make his way out just as dawn was approaching, Syna shedding her warm rays over him as he went about. Fall had only just arrived and for the most part he carried on with his hunting just as he did in the Summer. Moving about on the trail, he noticed small areas of dirt which had been scraped at by hooves - signs of deer trying to get down into the dirt so they could gain some vital nourishment. The dog beside him was the one to notice that; he'd bought it a few days ago, and it was currently nothing more than a nameless ball of fur that followed him around all day - considering it was almost as tall as him when it was on its hind legs he knew it could prove useful. It was a Quarni Wolfhound, he was told, and he'd felt himself being drawn to it, upon seeing the beast for sale in the city. The woman had been reluctant to part with it, considering the animal to be a little "off" in its mannerisms - though it seemed perfectly fine to the hunter. Having a large, strong dog nearby while he was out hunting was actually rather comforting for him, and he stopped every now and then to look over at it, noting how it sniffed around at different areas. He found himself being led along by the dog, rather than the other way around, but he didn't mind it at all. There was a range of things he knew and he went over them in his mind; all around there were the signs of deer scat, with one or two areas of grass that had been flattened down by the animals as they traveled around the region. Furball seemed to know these things too, or at the least could recognize interesting things and spent much of his time snuffling around at some item he felt was worth his time before moving on. When they'd reached an area where the deer seemed to spend much of their time, he returned his arrow to its quiver and slung his bow onto his back, making his way over to a nearby overhang of rock. Gripping small areas of stone that jutted out at him, he half walked, half climbed up onto the overhang, turning about to watch his hound scrambling its way up the side after him. Pulling it up beside him, he straightened when he reached the top and surveying the ground below him. There was a gathering of bushes sitting right in front of him, while trees had sprouted up at either side, leaving this part on top of the overhang as an excellent place to lie in wait. Setting his mind on using the spot, he told the dog to stay, which he did dutifully, before he quickly made his way down, gripping the rock where he could as he tried to make his way down without falling on his backside. Just as he was about to leave his boots slid and for a moment he was sure he was going to go crashing down the side of the little hill, but at the last moment he righted himself. Glancing at the dog, which just looked at him with curious, expectant eyes, he blew air out through his nose and scrambled down to the bottom, muttering to himself about the incline, then returned to the task at hand. Walking out into the middle of the clearing he unlaced the rucksack about his wait and lowered it to the ground. Opening it up he reached in and pulled out a small bag, which he opened, revealing the desired item inside; rye. While not particularly grandiose it would serve his purposes just fine. Tightening the bag so it was closed he set it down and reached into his bag again, retrieving the second item he needed; a snare. With the utmost care he set it down and set it into position, glad it was just a simple movement of pushing one or two things into place. It was really designed for catching something far smaller than a deer, but in this case its only purpose was to hold it still so he could put an arrow through its head. Opening the little bag again he sprinkled some rye out onto the snare and then covered the whole thing in leaves, grass and dirt, so that only the proffered treat was left out in the open; it was a good thing that deer weren't the smartest things on Mizahar, or they might have figured out that piles of rye didn't just appear from nowhere. Placing everything back in his bag he returned his rucksack to its former place and spun around on his heel, making his way back up onto the overhang, going about it more carefully this time to prevent the antics he'd gone through the previous time. As he gripped the edge of the upper level of the overhang, he pulled himself up onto it and briefly locked eyes with the wolfhound, who was still watching in silent expectation. Stepping back into the cover available to him, he pulled his bow free and ordered the dog to stay silent and out of sight. He had to repeat the command a second time, in a less verbose form - that being 'hide, boy' - for it to fully click in the animal's head, at which point it went shuffling away happily into a nearby bush. Pulling an arrow free and setting it down into place, he knelt behind the bushes and rested the shaft against the top his hand, slowing his breathing down into a hushed whisper to avoid any sound from alerting his quarry. This form of hunting was a little different to the one he usually used; normally he went out and tracked his prey, but in this case he'd decided to settle himself down in one spot to await the arrival of his target. He was still there a bell later.

[Roderick]

Unsurprisingly he found the sensation of sitting around doing nothing for all that time to be extremely vexing; several times he thought about abandoning this idea in place of tracking something down, the way he'd been doing it for years. The hound seemed to share his thoughts looking up at him with pleading eyes whenever he looked at it; he stopped glancing over after the first ten chimes. While his mind niggled away at the prospect of just heading off wildly into the trees, he urged himself to be patient; it wasn't so bad, really. This method wasn't as taxing on his body, in some ways - he didn't have to run around all over the place, for one. Yet he found that the absence of any real tension or excitement spoiled the hunt for him, and as the chimes passed his mood gradually turned sour, until he wanted nothing more than to return home and sleep for another bell. It was a good thing when his quarry appeared right then. Strolling out into the clearing, nonchalant as it could be, the young buck surveyed the area casually, taking in every detail it could, but not really feeling too worried about anything. Spotting the rye laid out in the centre of the clearing it made its way over to the trap, hooves carrying swiftly towards its death. Waiting up on his ledge, the hunter's legs were burning from being in the same position for so long; shifting himself very carefully on the ground he began preparing for the hit he was about to make. Furball didn't seem particularly interested in the deer, being used to fighting wolves, but it did watch the following events with a certain level of curiosity. Just as he was drawing his bow into position he disturbed a few stones on his perch, sending them crashing down the side into the clearing. Hearing it immediately the deer's head snapped up towards him and then, with all the speed it could muster, it fled the clearing. Watching it disappear Roderick brought his arrow into place and quickly released it, growling furiously as the animal escaped into the bushes and his arrow vanished with it. Scrambling down from where he had been seated he went hurtling after the deer, boots slamming against the ground as he raced after it, followed by his dog, which leaped after him and fell in beside him swiftly; he'd put too much effort into this, and he wasn't going to let it get away without at least trying to kill it once more. As he rushed through the bushes he paused to find his bearings, catching sight of some blood that was laying on the ground. Snuffling around at the droplets of blood that could be seen, the dog understood that it's owner wanted to go after the deer and led the way, holding its head high as it looked around at its surroundings and pursued their quarry. Roderick's breath was rasping in his ears with greater frequency as he ran about like a madman trying to find his prey. At one point he tripped on a root and stumbled, landing heavily and scraping his hands along the ground; if not for his gloves he would have torn his palms open. Scrambling to his feet the Zeltivan continued on, finding his task increasingly difficult, even with the dog's help. Perhaps someone else would kill it and claim their money, but the heaving breaths he had to take convinced Roderick that finding the cursed thing would be a hard task that would bare poor fruit. Holding his knees as he worked to calm himself down, he felt his heart hammering inside, while some bile worked its way into his throat. Swallowing it down he looked around at the foliage around him, wavering in the breeze, then at the dog, panting with its tongue lolling from its jaws. Turning his eyes to the ground, he decided that if he just thought things through he could find it. The thought of not giving in so quickly improved his mood; so he couldn't outrun the thing - but they could track it down and kill it while it was hurt.

[Roderick]

For the first few chimes he found nothing of note in the area; perhaps his lightheaded-ness was affecting his ability to spot the details. Searching every nook and cranny he could think of the archer began to feel the niggling doubts inside wriggling deeper, crawling around under his skin like maggots. At last he noticed what appeared to be a hoof print in the mud, stamped there as some animal went hurtling by. The dog looked it over and then, back straight and head held high, it set off again into the trees, its eyes honing in on whatever details it could see. Following after it, they looked around some more and followed a few more tell-tale tracks left behind by the deer as it fled - all of them lightly pressed into the dirt, so that there weren't any real details. The deer had apparently gone straight ahead here, avoiding any bushes that might have slowed it down. Walking along beside the faint prints he could see, Roderick felt a little disappointed in his ability to sight other signs of the animal's passing; a few minor indents in the mud were all that caught his eye. If not for his new companion he would have missed a fair number of the signs. After some closer inspection of the area they finally managed to find an area of grass which had been flattened somewhat as the animal had rushed over it. Stepping around where it had been crushed, Roderick moved along, eyeing everything over carefully before he moved on; if he hurried he would surely miss some important detail. Thanks to the new speed he was going at he could notice things more easily - small droplets of blood scattered around the place, the odd bending of a bush, the disturbed chirruping of the nearby birds. Restricting himself to walking slowly he concentrated on observing the tracks; the ground was quite hard, and so the prints that were there had only been pressed in slightly, meaning he had some difficulty identifying them. All the same he found the process easier the more he continued, until he was able to identify them all along the path way, though only when he was paying full attention. Finding that they was veering away to the right, he let the trail lead him away, noting down everything he could see - not too much, he imagined, but he felt he was doing a fairly decent job. The ground ended abruptly, veering straight down a hill before leveling out several metres down. From what he could see the deer had apparently been running full pelt and hadn't been able to stop in time. Sliding his way down the hill proved to be an interesting experience.

[Roderick]

Boots failing to do the job they had been designed too, Roderick soon found himself going straight down the incline like shyke through a goose. Barely avoiding the trees that were scattered all along the hillside, he eventually surrendered to the dirt's wishes and allowed himself to be forced onto his back. Somewhere nearby he heard the sounds of the furball skidding down after him. He continued like that for quite a while, the friction that built up convincing him he was going to have absolutely no skin left by the time he reached the bottom. A long, drawn out shout - somewhere between being scared and excited - erupted from his chest, ringing loudly in his ears as he went crashing to the bottom of the hill. Thankfully he'd been holding his bow in his hands when he fell earlier; as he was catapulted off his feet, he hurled the bow aside to avoid breaking it. The momentum of his descent sent him tumbling head over heels. He rolled with it, making sure to tuck his shoulder in as he went so that he dispersed the force of the impact across his entire body, rather than a specific point. All the same the rough ground was painful against him, being abrasive and hard. Eyes rolling about in his head he finally came to a stop, knees against the ground and his hands hurriedly spread out to avoid continuing with the awful antics he'd just been put through. His stomach lurched as all the tumbling caught up with him, and he decided he would avoid going down any more hills in the future. Gathering his bearings, Roderick looked around to find himself in a small, secluded area of ground. He thought it looked a bit like a corrie - an area which had been carved out by a glacier - but he wasn't sure if such things had ever occurred in this region. All the same the hill he had slid down seemed to have been a wall of rock which had been worn down til it was fairly smooth, while there was another incline further ahead. With rough brambles, tightly packed bushes and walls of trees on either side, he would have to either brave the rough, harsh journey through the jagged foliage to his left and right, or return the way he'd come - scrambling and struggling his way up the steep hill behind him. It was around that time that he realized there was something else with him. A few metres away from him, lying in a large pool of crimson liquid, was the deer. It had moved quite a distance from the base of the hill - too much to have done so on its own. His arrow could be seen jutting from its shoulder - a stream of blood visible across its hide from where it had bled from the wound he'd delivered to it. That wasn't the thing that made his stomach lurch again. No, what made him freeze was the harshly torn flesh and gaping wounds that had felled the poor thing. He didn't have to wonder over what had caused them. Seeing what had killed it, the hunter felt only anger and indignation over what was happening, especially when the creature continued feasting on his kill. "Oi, that's my petching deer, you sack of shyke!" The wolf turned towards him and howled. I didn't think that one through.

[Roderick]

Making its way towards him, Roderick knew the bear was going to maul him to death. With his bow lying somewhere within this death trap of a clearing, he had a battleaxe for protection - he'd been ambushed by a merchant that morning, who'd talked him into buying it. Laziness had prevented him from returning it to his apartment, as it would have taken time away from his schedule - now he was glad he hadn't gotten rid of it. Sliding free from his belt, he held it in hand and still felt a little uncertain of how exactly this thing could save him from the bear; it felt rather small in comparison to the massive thing he was facing off against. Holding it tightly, he tried to calm himself; he could do this. Trying to remember all he knew about fighting with an axe, he kept the weapon's hilt gripped in his fist, near the bottom, so he could swing it properly. The weight and sharpness of the axehead were the only elements of his weapon that could hurt the bear. Charging straight towards him, Roderick had no time to attempt anything, instead leaping away to one side to avoid being trampled. Whirling around to face it, he felt his heart hammering inside, while his blood rushed through him. His breath became rushed and harsh, the adrenaline boiling up inside and threatening to send him out of control. Clamping down on the urge to flee, he instead grasped hold of that small spark of courage inside and fanned it up until it was a small, burning flame. Facing off against his opponent once more, he circled around it carefully, keeping his axe at the ready so he could attack as soon as there was an opening. One soon presented itself, as the bear lurched forwards and swiped at him. Jumping back he made a quick slash which missed entirely, but he quickly made a second, catching the animal's paw as it withdrew it. Drawing some small amount of blood, the beast complained through a growl and came at him again, snapping its jaws in an attempt to clamp down on his arm. Jumping and stumbling away again, the hunter circled and quickly leaped forwards, chopping roughly at the animal's side. Feeling the blade pierce through flesh, he had a moments pleasure at succeeding before he had to fling himself backwards, landing on his back, as the bear threw itself about and tried to flatten him. Using the momentum of his fall to roll over onto his side, he swiftly pushed upwards with the palms of his hands, getting to his feet and continuing his deadly dance with the bear. A slight tremor rose in his hands as the adrenaline continued to pump through him, and this time banishing it was harder. Swallowing he stepped in daringly and swiped at his opponent, nicking its jaw.

[Roderick]

That slight wound sent the bear into a frenzy. It seemed the beast was used to eating prey that couldn't fight back, as the hunter's resistance unleashed a great, earth-shattering roar from its jaws as it threw itself forwards. Stepping away, he avoiding its full weight but still felt the power of the impact clipping his side, knocking him off his feet and sending his rolling across the ground. His firm hold on his weapon prevented it from being flung away, but all the same he found that it was lying a foot or so away by the time he had stopped. Bringing himself to his feet more slowly this time, as pain sheared through him, the hunter looked around desperately for his bow - if he could find it he would have a better chance against the bear. Yet no matter how hard he tried he couldn't see it. The fact it continued its assault relentlessly made his task all the more difficult. With fixed purpose his foe moved against him, and again Roderick met it, probing its defenses with sweeping slashes from his axe, piercing its hide every now and then. Slashing along the length of the bear's side, he felt it finally cutting through properly, unleashing a flow of blood down its side. All the same he felt his best bet was the attack its face, where the fur and hide would be quite thin. Bear's were big and slow, so he could outmaneuver it, but it didn't make his task any easier. Trying to make a backward slash at the beast's muzzle, he missed and found his chest wide open, just waiting for the beast's claws to sink in and tear him apart. Unthinkingly he punched out with his free hand, his fist connecting with the bear's jaw. Surprised by the attack the animal paused just long enough for Roderick to hack its eye out. Lurching away from him its roaring sounded pained and it approached him with a greater level of caution that before. Now if only he could find his accursed bow... Before he could look for it properly the bear was coming towards him once more, swiping out at him against and again and again, driving him backwards and threatening to fling him from his feet again. Knowing that he would die if he didn't escape from it right now, the hunter dashed away to the side, throwing a wild chop to the side as an after thought. Feeling the blade connect with flesh he found himself near the animal's hind quarters and, seeing as it's front half was preoccupied, he set about doing as much damage as possible. Swinging down with his axe, he hacked away vigorously with reckless abandon. Moving around it as he did so, he felt he had wounded it at least a dozen times before it had escaped his reach, by which time its back was a red ruin. Swaying a little more now, he avoided it for some time, fighting to regain his composure while his breath rasped viciously in his ears. Right now he was being exceedingly brave, but it didn't mean he wasn't scared; he was just managing to continue despite the terror that clung to his insides. Bleeding profusely from the various wounds around its body, Roderick stepped away to its blind side, doing so carefully and quietly. His boot connected with something; glancing down he was it was his bow. Putting his axe away he took hold of his bow with a wide grin; he had it right where he wanted, now. Most of his arrows had been scattered on the ground earlier, after his hurried descent down the hill, but there were still a few left in his quiver. Setting an arrow in place he paused long enough to draw the string to his cheek, releasing it. The arrow bit into the bear's shoulder, making it growls loudly in pain. Readying a second arrow the hunter managed to loose it at the beast, catching it in the neck, before he quickly scampered out of its path to avoid being knocked to the ground. While he did so he slid another arrow free of his quiver and fixed it into place on the string, laying the ends of his fingers down on either side of it. The familiarity of the bow restored his confidence and, with a slow inhalation of breath, he drew back to his cheek and stared the animal down with some level of calmness. Parting his fingers carefully so he wouldn't affect the arrow's flight, he watched as it caught the bear near the wound he'd given it from his axe; knowing he only had about two or three more arrows, he slowly edged his way towards the place that held more ammunition - the base of the hill. The bear seemed less interested in trying to eat him, now that he'd hurt it so badly. Of all the axe wounds he'd delivered, the sweeping slash to its side and the hack to its face were the only ones that had done any real damage, the others really only nicking it. Seeing that it did not react immediately, he rushed forwards quickly and, scooping a few arrows from the ground, he slipped them away into his quiver, leaving one in his hand. As the bear gave chase, he dashed off again, escaping with a fair level of ease. Spinning on his heel, he nocked and drew, eyeing his target - the bear's head. He watched its movements carefully, waiting for the right moment to strike it. With a bow there was a certain point where the strength needed to keep the string drawn back lowered considerably, so that maintaining the required tension was fairly easy - so long as you had the strength to get there. Placing his feet carefully Roderick circled again, moving around so he could stay on the beast's blinded side. When he felt that he could succeed in slaying it, he loosed and watched as the arrow flew through the air and buried itself in the animal's forehead. With a final cry of indignation the bear collapsed and began to grow still. Backing away several feet before collapsing, the hunter felt the rush of adrenaline leaking away just as quickly as it had arrived, taking with it his strength. Leaning back so he was lying prostrate on the ground, he stared at the sky and heaved in great gulps of air, a triumphant grin spreading across his face. He laughed as he celebrated his victory, and the energetic rush that was burning inside from the danger he'd just been in. Things were spoiled a bit when he realized he'd have to haul both bodies back to the city.

[Accolade]

Okay so, to understand this correctly. You went from facing a BEAR with a little dagger that you have three points in, to facing it with a weapon that you have 0 points in? How does this help, other than getting you killed I mean? Try it again, but this time don't over play your skills.