Solo The Trials of the Hunt [I]

After a four day storm, Wingard takes to the skies in the hopes of bringing something home for his city.

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The vast mountain range of Kalea is home of secret valleys, dead-end canyons, and passes that lead to places long forgotten or yet to be discovered.

The Trials of the Hunt [I]

Postby Edric Wingard on December 26th, 2013, 4:52 am

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Winter Season, 15th – 16th Day, 513 A.V.

The young Kelvic let out a quiet hiss, his naked body involuntarily tensing as it greeted the chilled wind of winter. Already, his pack was readied, the rough fabric rubbing against his skin abrasively from its position around his neck. The weight was uncomfortable in this form, but the man understood that the slight annoyance now would mean nothing later so he ignored it, shrugging off the raw feeling and stepping closer to the edge of his aerie. Mentally running through the items in his pack one last time, the man, now satisfied, stepped off the cliff face.

What an experience it was for that single moment that Wingard felt his heart leap into his throat in fear of dying. His limps, so fragile and uncoordinated in the air flailed uselessly as he fell, his body tensing automatically in hopes that the basic action would defend it from the impact below. Letting out an elated laugh that soon transformed into a shrill scream, the Kelvic shouted in delight as his no longer chilled body welcomed the catch of the wind. Expanding his wings in order to stop gravity, the air slipped through his feathers, creating the needed heavier pressure beneath his wings to provide his lift off. With another scream of delight, and a couple well executed, if not incredibly enthusiastic flaps, Wingard was airborne.

Catching a swift thermal, the eagle easily gained altitude, saying a brief goodbye to the land below. It was elating to be back in the air, feeling the crisp wind enter and escape his lungs in biting gasps that were just as welcomed as the frigid wind that threatened to frost on the tips of his wings. The last couple days had been torture for the young hunter, the storm that had covered his home too aggressive for daily flights. He had felt jumpy and agitated because of it; the sensation of being grounded never an appealing one to the Kelvic. All around him, he felt the uneasiness of not only his colony, but the Endals as well as they fretted over the lost hunting days. He understood their plight; Wind Reach’s seasonal food stocks were far from where they should have been at this time of year.

Where the people had gone wrong in stock-piling supplies, Wingard was not quite sure, but all he knew was that he was determined to not be hindered by a self-ingesting stomach if he did not have to be. Thus, he had taken to the air to perform his duty as a hunter and only hoped that today would bear fruit – or meat, preferably.

Soaring over open land, the young eagle stopped thinking troubling thoughts altogether and focused his intention solely on the hunt. In this form, as the sky was his highway, Wingard found forgetting his human stresses easy. Up here, all that mattered was the air he travelled and the potential food down below. It was easier and neater in this lifestyle, allowing the overbearing thinker a needed break from the constant skepticism he was diseased with. His instincts took over and suddenly everything he thought was important prior to meant nothing.

Descending slightly closer to the land, the rapture began the laborious aspect of a hunt: tracking. One of the few positive aspects of the winter season was the capability of sighting animal tracks in the fresh powder of winter. Oftentimes, those imprints were the first thing that caught the eagle’s attention enough to draw him closer for a more thorough investigation. Craning his head from side to side to scan the landscape below, endless amounts of expansive land and trees slipping past him as he continued flying, the young bird utilized his patience in order to stay focused. He knew that this journey would not be a quick or efficient one because of the storm, the snow and temperature enough to send many animals into hibernation. That sudden drop in food sources would always be an unwelcome hindrance but like Wingard’s need to fly after such long, grounded days, the eagle knew that many animals would be taking advantage of the temporary calm to regroup and escape their shelters. This evidence of recently disturbed grounds was what the Wind Eagle was hoping to spot.

Having set out as soon as he could, the hunter hoped that it would give him a needed advantage in catching his prey unaware. It also gave him a higher likelihood of running into prey as well as they would be leaving their hovels quickly in order to escape back into them just as fast. The more time he would have taken to leave, would have resulted in less opportunity to see a meal. So, continuing to soar low in order to save his endurance for the flight home, Wingard studied the unyielding snow and trees critically. Abruptly, he snapped his head to the right, quickly rising higher into the air in order to circle and reassess the scene that had caught his eye. Returning once again, the eagle inwardly rejoiced at his first sign of animal movement. A tall evergreen’s branches had recently been disturbed, the bare, spiny branches indicating the knocked off snow that had previously been coating them. Sure enough, shadowed below the pine-needled branches and lumpy snow lay a scattering of footfalls. Tiny feet, he noted to himself, continuing to circle, his keen vision allowing him to observe closely from the air. Slight indentations and claw position hinted at the possibility of a rodent animal, but the snow was too disturbed for any obvious identification.

Seeing slight disturbances further to the north, the eagle quickly exited from its tight turn, heading in that direction. As he moved, he noted slight indentations in the snow and foliage, using those disturbances as an indication for the prey’s location. Slowly though, he watched as another creature’s tracks came into view, their size much larger as they indented deeply into the snow. Annoyed, the animal balked as he already hypothesized what the conclusion would be up ahead. Like an out-of-world experience, the eagle studied each step and indication that told the story of his prey and the new predator. The animal must have been downwind at the time as it was obvious that the pret did not realize it was being stalked. It seemed to have stopped at areas beneath multiple trees to forage before moving on again until abruptly the snow scattered and specks of blood decorated the otherwise pristine setting.

Screeching in anger, the Wind Eagle once again took to the sky, turning his back on the red scene below, the drag marks of his wishful prey branded into his mind like a hot iron letter. It was only obvious to him that he had lost out on the hunt and having quickly scanned ahead, he knew that the predator was long gone into whatever godforsaken cave it had crawled out of first.

Wingard was not happy to have been beaten to the punch – losing was never a good feeling. However, his pride was unimportant to an empty stomach so with the beginnings of frustration brimming, the young eagle took to the skies once more. After all, arrogance does not fill empty bellies.

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Last edited by Edric Wingard on December 28th, 2013, 4:30 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Edric Wingard
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The Trials of the Hunt [I]

Postby Edric Wingard on December 28th, 2013, 4:30 am

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The morning failure seemed to be a trending conclusion for the rest of Wingard’s hunt. As the sky darkened and the sun said its ritual goodbyes, descending beneath the horizon to await the next day, the young eagle decided that maybe it was time to call it a night. Already, the temperature was beginning to drop, his feathers fluffing up automatically as he tucked his head into his shoulders in order to provide it with minimal protection from the incessant wind. It was cold and harsh against his body, cutting into him rather than passing through and carrying him easily like a usual breeze. Winters were always hard in Wind Reach as the season depredated the Inarta from their main food source, leaving them scavenging like his crow brethren. Rather than celebrating the skies and the thrill of hunting, all his people were left with was desperation and an absence of pride that only starvation could create. Yes, Lady Morwen was viscous in her rule and he could only pity the people of Avanthal that had to deal with her insensitive cold shoulder daily.

Squinting his eyes in a purely habitual human trait, the eagle soared through the air in search of a satisfactory place to perch for the night. Having a successful grasp on his bearings, the Kelvic knew his position in the Unforgiving well, long ago taking the time to familiarize himself with Northern Kalea’s geography. As an eagle, he did not fear getting lost in his lands, instinctively knowing that as long as he could soar in the skies; his inner compass would always point him home. Right now though, home was not an option and thus, Wingard steadily searched for a distinctive crevice in one of the rock faces that would provide him enough shelter until morning when he would attempt a final hunt on the way back to Wind Reach. It was a rather inconspicuous outcropping of stone that was camouflaged by the fallen trees that surrounded it. It was under there that the young man would settle for the night and merely home for the best in the morning.

With barely a few streaks of light in the sky, Wingard finally caught sight of his intended location. Letting out a shrill scream of victory, the chilled Wind Eagle easily went in for a soft landing, flapping his wings in order to slow his speed as he descended. Once touching the thick trunk, he quickly gathered his wings around him and transformed knowing that his rather large rapture frame would not be able to squeeze into the little entrance. Jumping in as quickly as possible, the man’s teeth chattering loudly in the wintry silence, his bare feet stinging from the cold snow as he landed. Dropping his neck so that the pack fell off with a soft thud against the ground, he opened it without hesitation, withdrawing his bryda, katinu, scarf, stockings and boots so swiftly that it was rather impressive to see him fully clothed within a chime of landing. Dragging his cloak tightly around his body while his scarf lay tightly wrapped around his head, the man next used his booted feet to clear an area of snow next to the rock outcropping. By sleeping with one side covered by a hard surface, he knew he would have fewer angles to cover while he rested. Although the shelter was rather expansive as the rocky ledge protected him from a potential snow fall and the leaning trees camouflage from the night hunters, the cavern was hardly bigger than ten feet in diameter and at moments, Wingard had to hunch down in order to not smack his head off of a low-hanging branch. Once the snow was removed, he continued to clear the layers of wet, autumn debris that had gathered beneath the fallen trees until all that was remaining was the soft, damp ground. Knowing it was going to be impossible to find anything dry, the man was satisfied enough to lay his bed roll down in the cleared area.

Dragging his pack out of the snow, he placed it next to tonight’s sleeping quarters and began withdrawing an evening of rations and his waterskin. Shaking it lightly, he let out an annoyed sigh when his suspicions were proven correct – his water was frozen. It was understandable he knew, considering he had spent the better part of the day getting battered by the unforgiving cold, but it was an unfortunate hindrance, nonetheless. Not bothering to really spend time moping around over spilt or in this case, refusing to spill, liquids, the Kelvic decided to improvise. First retrieving the only dagger he brought, the russet man made his way over to an undisturbed area of snow. Bending forward slightly, he dragged the blade across the top layer of snow, shaving it from the pristine white beneath it. Clearing enough away so that he could easily slip his hands in, the young eagle scooped the clear snow off the ground, careful to leave enough behind in order to avoid the dirtied snow below. Knowing this was his best shot at hydration, he slipped the moist, frozen water into his mouth, wincing as it attacked his cold-sensitive nerves. Slamming his tongue against the roof of his mouth, Wingard closed his eyes tightly, once again silently cursing the Winter Goddess for the unforgiving pain in his head.

Knowing that it wouldn’t really pass until he was finished eating, the Kelvic continued to stuff snow into his mouth, fighting the brain numbing sensation as tears stung his eyes. This was simply a mind over matter affair and he absolutely refused to let such trivialities such as minimal pain stop him from in taking sustenance. Yes, he too recognized the paradoxical state he was in; to eat or not to eat, that is the question.

After his parched throat was satisfied, Wingard quickly backtracked through his own footprints and practically dove into his bedroll – after removing his boots of course. Grabbing the chilled winter blanket, the man swaddled himself in it, teeth once again chattering amongst themselves as he waited for his own body heat to heat up the enclosed space. As he waited, he slowly chewed his rations, using each measure bite as a way to calm his breathing and instill meditation. It was important that regardless of his situation that he remain focused so with deep breathes, the young Kelvic took the necessary chime to settle his racing heart and frozen limbs. Closing his eyes, he hoped for more luck in the morning and fell into a fitful, light sleep.

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Edric Wingard
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The Trials of the Hunt [I]

Postby Edric Wingard on December 28th, 2013, 5:03 pm

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The first indication that Wingard was not alone was the only incentive he needed to snap his eyes open and quickly evaluate the situation at hand. Already, he had retrieved the spider dagger that he had placed by his bed prior to sleep; the cold steel reminding him that wakefulness would be his best asset now. Turning, so that his back faced the rock wall thus eliminating a surprise attack from behind, the young hunter turned his attention in the direction of the noise that had awaken him.

Having been sleeping lightly as anything more while in the field alone was purely idiotic, the man had heard the underbrush in which he slept part under an entering pressure, the spindly leaves and branches rubbing together abrasively. The intruder was light on their feet, he noted, as he had to strain to hear the footsteps that seemed to be nearing his feet. Refusing to give into his baser instincts to get up, transform, break down this shelter and flee, the man behind the animal did not move, biding his time so that he could observe the situation before reacting accordingly. As the intruder slunk closer, Wingard could immediately tell by its posture that it was feline; the rising shoulder that accompanied each step an obvious indication. In the dark though, it was unclear what species it exactly was, but its size was reminiscent of a bobcat and that was enough to get the Kelvic moving.

Letting out an animalistic shout in order to startle the animal, Wingard threw his blanket on it, hoping that by momentarily blinding the thing, he would be able to gain the hop on it. As the blanket landed soundly on the head of the creature, he wasted no time in following the trajectory of his possession, slamming his body against the animal as hard as he could. The feet needed to be pinned first, as the claws that were bound to be decorating those light feet could easily tear him apart. Right now, the head was covered enough for Wingard to prioritize it later as he knew that once the animal had regained enough awareness, it would be tearing into him in seconds. Grabbing a back leg, claws indeed unsheathed, the man did not waste a moment to judge the morality of his actions as he pinned the leg against the ground and slammed his dagger into where he estimated the animal’s elbow joint was. Keeping the knife imbedded into the animal, his strength seemingly multiplied by the adrenaline racing through his form, he grasped the leg that he had pinned and wrenched it upwards, emitting a loud crack as he did so.

The feline yowled in pain as its leg broke beneath the human’s hands, spitting in anger as it attempted to shake the forsaken blanket free. Already, a front paw had clawed its way out of the distraction, swiping blindly as it attempted to scare off the creature on top of it. Knowing that if he were to remove his weight, the cat would most certainly attempt to make its escape, the young man decided not to risk putting his body’s entire weight behind the next strike as he swiftly removed his dagger from the useless appendage, blood splattering across the tussled snow. Ducking, he narrowly avoided a scratch to the eye, only for the sharpened claws to nick his ear instead. Hot liquid immediately began pooling, dripping down his neck as he continued to struggle to keep the animal pinned. It was utterly stupid to have thrown his entire being on such a creature, but having felt like there was no other options, Wingard had bit the bullet and done it; after all, now he had a fighting chance.

The blanket was nearly off the animal now. Seizing the opportunity, he jammed his knife into the half-exposed belly of the creature, his mind somewhat registering that he was utterly butchering the fur. Regardless, he dragged it as deeply as he could across the feline, aiming to disembowel but knowing it would be an impossible feat with such a small blade. At this point, he finally leaped away, taking his knife with him as he scrambled back; his bryda torn and leg bleeding. Having not even noticed the attack on his leg, Wingard clenched it automatically as he once again stood; knees bent, weapon readied, and eyes wide. He could not spare it more than a cursory glance at this point, but had he to guess, it was a rather deep cut if the rivulets of blood streaming down his leg and staining his stockings was any indication.

Watching the creature carefully, he saw it easily free itself from the blanket now that it wasn’t pinned by an overweight man nearly three feet its size. It staggered to its feet, but its right hind leg gave out uselessly the moment weight fell upon it. Yowling, the feline tried unsuccessfully once again until it collapsed to the floor. Frightened, Wingard was somewhat unsure of what to do; his baser instincts had overwhelmed him for the majority of that encounter and now that his human side had set in, he was somewhat unclear on what to do. It was obvious that he had caused this creature to suffer, and he also knew that it was not something an honoured hunter who appreciated the kill would do. However, as the cat was impressively still hostile, the man was unsure how to approach it in order to put it out of its misery. Considering that it was still dark out, didn’t help either.

Approaching slowly around the animal’s head, Wingard deftly knelt behind it, knowing that at this point it would not be able to roll over to strike. The previously pristine white beneath it was stained rusty so with a silent prayer of thanks, the Kelvic made eye contact with its prey and slammed his blade into the yellow window to its soul. It died swiftly after that. Leaving the carcass for a moment, Wingard quickly retrieved his belongings. His feet were ice as he had battled with the feline without his boots, so he slipped his stocking off and placed his bare feet in them in the hopes of defrosting his toes. The struggle could not have lasted more than a few chimes, but winter was unforgiving and the crisp night air vindictive in her tortures.

Afterwards, using his wet stockings, he deftly twisted one and tied it around his upper thigh in hopes of staunching the blood flow to the torn area. Next, he wrapped the other stocking around like a poor bandage. Even with a hindered leg, Wingard was certain that with breaks, he’d be able to carry what he recognized under closer scrutiny as a lynx, to the production center. He’d have to leave soon though, he knew, as the smell of not only the feline’s blood, but his own, would attract predators that were looking for an easy kill. It was one thing for only a single animal’s blood to be shed, but for two simply meant that the winner was also injured and could be easy pickings for the rest of ‘em.

Grimacing slightly as he limped about repacking all his belongings, Wingard next dragged the body out of his shelter with a dramatic sigh. There was no way that he would be able to clean up all the blood that decorated the snow within, so soon enough, his previously great hunting bunker would no longer be useable. Once the other animals followed their scent there, it would simply be too risky to stay there once again. Stripping and folding his clothes back into his pack, including his stockings, he once again placed the long strap around his neck and transformed. Considering that he was right on flat ground and somewhat crippled, the creature let out an aggravated scream as he took a few moments to successfully catch a thermal. Gaining some altitude and a feel for the winds, he only then circled back and picked up the carcass of the Lynx. Wingard attempted to carry most of its weight with his stronger leg and slowly, he began to make his journey back to the production center and then home to the infirmary, the beginnings of dawn guiding him.

Thread Completed.


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Edric Wingard
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Posts: 122
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Joined roleplay: December 22nd, 2013, 3:38 pm
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The Trials of the Hunt [I]

Postby Skerry on January 3rd, 2014, 11:46 pm

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Grades

Edric

Skill XP
Hunting 2
Medicine 2
Observation 5
Tracking 2
Weapon: Spider Dagger 2
Wilderness Survival 3
Wrestling 1


LORES :
  • Tracking: Footprints in the snow
  • Wilderness Survival: Finding shelter
  • Wilderness Survival: Snow as a source of water
  • Medicine: Cutting off blood flow
  • Medicine: Creating makeshift bandages


Consequences: -deep leg wound that will need to be treated as soon as possible. If left untreated, infection will begin to set in within 3 days. If treated, wound will heal within 17-21 days.
-nick on ear that will heal within 4-5 days
-one viciously butchered lynx->fur useless

Notes: An excellent thread with a very dramatic and successful animal encounter. Nice bit of skill in here, well done.

Remember if you have any questions or problems with your grade then feel free to PM me.

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