Closed Close Encounters of the Kelvic Kind (Edric)

[Skerry]

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Her companion couldn’t hear her and so was forced to pull Iona closer to him. The sudden movement made her stagger, landing heavily on her injured foot, an event that almost made her faint from pain. The Kelvic wanted to repeat her previous statement and so she did as soon as she was able to raise her voice to an adequate volume. Her deception went undiscovered, something that the huntress was glad of for the moment. It would cause her a lot of pain in the near future but at least they’d be able to get to a definite place of shelter, or at least she hoped so. Now all she had to do was keep herself moving and try not to be a burden. Thankfully, Edric gave her help without her even having to ask. Her fellow hunter was kind enough to support her, taking some of the weight off of her ankle which made movement a little easier.

As the pair set off through the snows, the woman slowed them down more than she would have liked. No matter how much of her weight she put on Edric, it was still necessary for her to use her injured foot. The pain didn’t lessen with time, each touch felt more keenly than the previous one and so as time went on, her speed decreased. The task of aiding her also seemed to wear on the poor hunter’s stamina as he seemed to slow down as she did and Iona didn’t believe that it was just because of her slower pace. He was getting tired. It wasn’t that surprising really. Her extra weight would have been a bit of a drag for him in ordinary conditions but in the fierce weather conditions they were currently facing, she was amazed that he could battle through the snow with her in tow.

The winds battered against them relentlessly, working against them rather than with them so that they were always pushing into them. Some of its force would break on the trees but even with that shelter, the gusts could still nearly topple them. Strong air currents weren’t the only element that they had to contend with however as the snow assailed them also. Icy pellets bombarded them at a near horizontal angle, stinging their faces and making the flesh red raw. The huntress had to adjust the hood of her katinu many times but still the ice and snow pelted her. Her breath came in short pained gasps and pants as she limped through the blizzard and the breathing of her companion beside her was off too though his breathing was laboured as he struggled to pull them through the fierce, relentless weather.

When her companion spoke, the sound startled her but she strained to catch his words, leaning in closer in order to hear what he had to say. She followed the direction that his finger pointed in and when she squinted she could just about make out the gash that he wanted her to see. She nodded in affirmation but then shouted that she’d heard when she realised that he might not have seen the movement. Still squinting, she searched for more gashes like the one that he had pointed out but the snow made the task more difficult than it ought to be. She found it nearly impossible to spot a new gash unless the snow happened to swirl just right so that her view wasn’t obscured. The rock face that Edric wanted her to see was unlikely to present itself to her view before his but she still searched, looking around her and into the gathering gloom.

When the ghost of a shape loomed out of the gloom, the huntress was quick to point it out, searching for the confirmation of her companion. ”Is that something there, or am I just seeing things?” she called over Zulrav’s ire. ”Is that the rock face? The thing you’re looking for?”
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[Edric Wingard]

As the winds of Zulrav continued to buffet his face, pricking his skin with tiny, hail-like knives, the eagle found himself cursing the gods above and their vicious, unforgiving presence. His eyes, so wet with unshed tears, squinted as he stared through the turbulent mess that was created by the Morwen and the air god, and he silently wondered how anyone could find the beauty in such chaos. His fingers, long exposed to the bitter cold no longer felt like his own; the elegant, pianist fingers curled into talon like shapes as they grasped onto Iona’s cloak and fairly dragged her through the snow. She was far gone, he could tell, her endurance broken awhile back just like his own, her form staggering on her injured ankle as they continued forward. As they had journeyed onward, her pace faltering with each ginger step she took upon her injury, Wingard had begun to suspect that the huntress had lied to him about her condition. The snow was difficult to move in, but he figured that she was a seasoned Avora like himself and maneuvering through the snow at such a haggard pace could only be caused by inexperience or injury, and considering he suspected her to be competent, it could only mean one thing.

Iona was injured far more than he initially thought.

Grunting as he fairly lugged her body onwards, the eagle found his concentration breaking as he had to focus more and more of his willpower on moving, rather than searching the cacophonous surroundings for their shelter. He was angry at their situation, his taste buds revolting against the failure he felt and manifesting itself in the form of a foul taste on his tongue. He wanted to spit just to be rid of such filth, but his mouth was dry and Wingard could not sacrifice the energy it would take to complete such a careless action anyway. Zulrav, the god that he constantly found himself praising or referencing, was smacking him around and beating him senseless like the rag doll he assumed he was viewed as. The Kelvic had never thought so highly of himself as to believe that he was seen as an asset or a person of interest to such a god, but a sort of bitterness settled into his stomach at the fruitlessness this prophetic character was initiating within him. Were people so uninteresting to him that he couldn’t even spare a small slice of mercy for the two unfortunate souls stuck in his frigid dance with Morwen?

If he was being objective, Wingard would have easily noted that his dark feelings were only being directed upon Zulrav, even though the winter goddess was just as involved as the former, but he could not bring himself to see everything so clinically. The eagle had invested his freedom, his livelihood into the air god; the skies and Zulrav’s winds the only aspects of his life where he could truly find peace, and now all of his previous praise seemed to fall on empty, irresponsive ears. Were his words and prayers so meaningless? Morwen did not know of his dedication and had never felt his thanks, thus he could not be bitter with her treatment as it was simply in her nature to refurnish the world through snow and cold, but Zulrav was different. He represented everything the hunter respected and yearned to embody as that freedom to explore the world so easily was everything the eagle wished to be. So how could that respect be thrown back at him so callously?

Jerking his head up suddenly to look at what Iona pointed to, he staggered. Iona’s additional weight did not help his equilibrium and quite quickly he found himself falling to the snowy ground. Letting out a frustrated hiss that encompassed all the ill feelings that were raging within the man, Wingard reached out blindly with a single forearm in order to attempt to catch the both of them on a poor, unsuspecting trunk. Their impact was hard and jarring, the eagle groaning at the pain that reverberated through his arm and up his spine, but his knees didn’t crumble. He held Iona tightly to his chest, praying that whatever damage the fall may have delivered to him, did not hurt her any further. Breathlessly, he inquired about her status, his words hushed as his lips touched her frozen ear.

Her earlier exclamation had startled the eagle out of the dark reverie he had settled himself into, thus initiating his fall, but now he focused his attention to the looming shape the woman had spotted. Regardless of his condemnation of Zulrav moments earlier, the eagle allowed a relieved sigh of ‘Thank the bloody gods,’ to escape his lips as he stared at the obscure, but familiar shape before him. Pushing himself off of the tree gently so he did not jar the poor huntress any further, he got back to his feet.

“That’s it,” he stated, his eyes alight with renewed hope. Grasping the woman, he started heading forward again, his steps lighter but quick with the new adrenaline that was running through his veins. His breath was puffing out before him in tiny clouds as he moved, but he disregarded his heaving lungs and only stopped moving once their feet settled into the hardened ground of the covered rock face. The area was rather small, the overhang providing just enough cover for the two of them to rest with their legs stretched before them if they pressed their back against the cold stone. The ground, usually uncovered, was beginning to get scattered with snow as the flurries pressed under the overhang and settled into the partially enclosed space. Using his foot, the eagle roughly carved out a clear space for Iona, guiding her lightly to the ground. When she was settled, he stood back up again, albeit his back hunched so that he didn’t smack his noggin off of the overhang.

Glancing around, he noted that they still had two and a half exposed sides; something they needed to take care of if they were planning to sit out the storm here. The winds were only going to pick up, he knew, and if Zulrav and Morwen’s beginning was this strong, he could only imagine what the frigid winds would feel like at their crescendo. Forcing his teeth to stop chattering, his hands tucked within his armpits as he tried to warm them, the eagle thought out loud for his companion’s benefit. He really figured that Iona was going to be next to useless in her current condition, physically anyway, but her mind was hopefully just as sharp as before, “We need to cover the expose walls to eliminate Zulrav’s presence. If we cut down branches and then dig a trench around the outcropping, we’ll be able to wedge the wood in so that it can’t be blown over. The snow seems capable enough to be packed together well, so if that works, we can eliminate digging into the cold ground and saving our hands and tools. Fire-wise, I think we may need to forgo a pit and simply try to make one out of the leaves that are in this place. Can you move around and clear this place of snow and start on the trench while I cut down the wood?”

[Estrellir Konrath]

Edric Wingard

Skills
Intimidation +4
Observation +1
Tracking +2
Wilderness Survival (forest) +4

Lores
Teaching an Avora respect
Iona: Inarta with speech problems
Iona: Independent huntress
Wilderness Survival: Using the forest as cover
Tracking: White-tailed deer tracks
Wilderness Survival: Signs of storm in the environment
Wilderness Survival: Freeing a foot from a burrow
Wilderness Survival: Pushing through a snow storm
Wilderness Survival: How to build shelter

Comments

Thanks for the interesting thread! Your attempts at intimidation were a fun read, your descriptions of tracking and wilderness survival very insightful. It’s a shame the thread had to end prematurely. If you’ve any questions or concerns, feel free to PM me!

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