Solo Mountain Air and Campfires

[Brandon Blackwing]

The 47th of Fall 514 AV
Misty Peaks


For the first period of time ever since the storms that had barraged the city of skyglass for many days starting on the twenty-eighth of the season, the sky was clear and the temperatures had started to rise once more, though they were still quite mild. Brandon did not mind actually, it beat the heatwave of last Summer, so he was fine with it. Besides, it was quite lovely, the cool air and the slightly humid feel, it reminded him of Kalinor, the only thing that was missing was the darkness of a cave. In fact everything that had to do with a cave, like walls and a ceiling, but the Symenestra too. He'd never expected this to cross his mind, but he actually missed the cave city sometimes. Even the Symenestra that had made the city their home, he wondered why exactly he had such a dislike for the race of spiders.

Maybe it was because his mother had influenced him a lot? Lethia seemed ready to attack them on sight most of the times, especially so if she was in a bad mood or if one of the pale race entered the shop, her home. Otherwise she did not seem to care all that much, whenever she needed to go shopping she did not hesitate to ask one of them to carry her to her destination. Maybe it was just because of prejudices? Then again, the bat wasn't quite fond of the race either, but he couldn't remember why exactly... Mother's influence, he decided.

It didn't really happen much that the bat had an actual reason for going into the peaks, usually he just felt like it, but not this time. True, the peaks were always fun and challenging, and that was one of the things he was after today. That and for the sake of his time in Kalinor; the part where he'd been training rigorously to be able to depart and arrive in another city in one piece. It would be a shame to let the basic knowledge of one skill in particular go to waste, he found, so when the weather had become nicer than before he had seized the chance and strolled into the safest part of the Unforgiving; the Misty Peaks.

The whole Incognito business was exciting, but extremely dangerous, it was starting to become a lot more interesting. The longer he was under Kriegsfelt's employment, the more interesting the jobs became, the harsher the consequences would be when caught. While Brandon did not believe he'd get caught, he did feel it was safer to prepare for the worst. It was better to take multiple outcomes in account, the possibility of having to flee the city of stars was plausible. Therefore he should be able to survive in the wild for a while, a couple of days at least and indefinitely should it be necessary. Though, it was easier said than done, the bat knew close to nothing when it came to wilderness survival.

While wandering through the forest that had managed to conquer the rocky underground of the peaks, the bat picked up some twigs. Some were kept and others were tossed away instantly because they were too moist. Brandon figured that he should start with testing if he was capable of making a fire, and how little knowledge he might have, even he knew that wet twigs didn't burn well. They created a lot of smoke, but little heat. Dry materials were ideal, but in a forest it was hard to find such items. The underground was moist, so what lied on top of that was usually not exactly dry either. Still, they were usable enough and only twigs that were too damp couldn't be used.

It took a while but eventually Brandon had a whole collection of dead wood in his arms and before long he had also managed to find a place to attempt to make a campfire at. He suspected ity couldn't be too different from lighting the hearth. The location he had chosen was littered with rocks, small ones and larger boulders, and that was exactly the reason why he had picked that spot. For safety he needed a substance that didn't burn to form a barrier with around the fire, and stones were quite suitable for that task.
Laying the bundle of twigs on the ground, the bat started lining fist-sized stones up in a small circle, which was quite irregular to be honest. Not that it mattered, the point was to create a barrier, and that was exactly what the thief had done. Now the bat only had to place the twigs at the center of the stone-circle and the preparations would be completed. Sadly, the bat didn't have a clue how to stack to wood, and if it even mattered, so he just laid the twigs where they had to be, except of two of the larger and thicker ones.

Credit goes to Engghaen

[Brandon Blackwing]

If this was a fire he was building in his hearth, he would have created a spark with flint and steel, set something that burned easily aflame and would blow softly to encourage the flames to grow. Blowing too hard would extinguish the newborn flames, so he had to be careful. Of course, this wasn't a fire in the hearth, and for completeness's sake he had decided against using flint and steel. Instead, he placed one of the remaining sticks between his palms and made sure the tip of the stick touched the largest of the two. Then, he started rubbing his hands, thus rotating the stick rapidly.

He had been told that this method could create flames when done fast and long enough, but the bat saw nothing yet. It was getting warmer though, but that was because of the effort, he knew. Imagining that this would take quite a while to produce even the slightest of sparks, the thief was willing to give up, but refrained from doing so because of one thing; he had noticed a small plume of smoke rising from the branches. It was tiny, but enough to psyche up the thief, who started spinning the twig even faster, hoping to set the branches alight soon.

All his enthusiasm could not prevent him from growing tired and bored after several chimes of rotating the twig between his palms. Not only that, but there just did no fire appear, not even the smallest spark, only smoke. Frustrated, the thief threw the stick on the ground with a roar, the itch of impatience and annoyance spreading through his body. The bat never had had a lot of patience, though he could manage to wait if necessary, but for tasks like these, actions that did not seem to near the point of completion he had none. Not now, not ever, and he knew that if he'd try again later the outcome would be exactly the same.

Grumbling and cursing, the bat reached in his pockets and his hand returned with the items he could actually use to build a fire with; flint and steel. With the steel in one hand and the flint in the other, the bat shuffled closer to the stack of twigs and started banging the two items into each other. Sparks were birthed with ease, multiple bright orange siblings at once, but to his dismay they died instantly upon touching the wood, not flames grew out of them. Again and again he let the parents of fire collide, but to no avail, the twigs did not burn, they just refused to. Were they too moist, was Ivak just toying with him? He didn't know, but it grated against his mind as his grip grew tighter and his knuckles turned white, slamming the flint against the steel harder, faster and in quicker succession. Needless to say that his enraged attempts made no difference, another primal bestial yell tore itself out of his throat.

There was the urge to smack both items into the ground, but he the fact that they were to valuable to ruin he had to find another way to vent his frustration. Stuffing the flint and steel back in his pockets, the bat stomped towards a fallen log, raised a leg and started stomping as hard as he could on the with moss covered wooden obstacle. Before long he was getting tired, a chime of five non-stop stomping on a log was quite exhausting after all. A pause was taken to catch his breath and then he continued his meaningless violence, the assault on the poor old tree trunk until all of his rage had dispersed and he calmed down again, feeling tired and empty for some reason. His stomach growled and declared it time to eat, but there was nothing the bat could do about the hunger that had emerged.

For completeness's sake he had refused to take food with him too, which he bemoaned now. As far as he knew, there were no bushes with berries around this part, not that he'd seen anyway. There was wildlife, but he had no bow or spear and couldn't hunt with human techniques and traps. If it were dark he'd have shifted and caught himself lots of insects for dinner, but the day was too bright for his sensitive bat-eyes. Again his stomach grumbled, questioning the thief's stupidity, demanding food, not caring that there was nothing around to eat. And then he smelled it, a most delicious scent he would have detected even if it had come from the other side of Mizahar.

Credit goes to Engghaen

[Brandon Blackwing]

A most delicious smell indeed, a scent the bat could not describe even if he wanted to, for it was more than hard to try to catch the impression of it –of any scent for that matter- with words. If it could have been done via thoughts though,… But he didn’t care about such tasks, not when he knew what his nose was telling him, what the aroma that graced his nostrils meant to him. Food, cooked and ready to be eaten, to the east of his current position. There was no point in hesitating, no point in planning or thinking about it, there was food, he was hungry. He was going to succumb to his cravings.

The scent was all he needed to guide him to the place where the source of it was waiting for him to arrive and doing it the pleasure of consuming the meal. The thief wanted to run, to sprint towards the destination, but decided against it. While the scent was strong –and that meant that it had to be quite near- he was still in the peaks and the peaks were –regardless of Shinya securing the region- part of the Unforgiving. Caution was always advised, no matter how hungry or hasted you were.

As such the bat stuck to a rather fast walking pace, constantly scanning the area every so often for strange noises or other telltale signs something was approaching. It was for that reason he didn’t run, he’d need his energy if a pack of wolves thought him to be lunch, or had picked up the scent he had too. There was no reason why they wouldn’t, only he doubted they’d want to eat that and not a deer or so, cooked meals were not for wolves. Brandon also doubted they’d want to eat him specifically, instead of something larger and fleshier. An attack of the canines was unlikely, he decided, but not if he happened to stumble upon their den, or walk through their territory. That being said, were there actually wolves in the peaks? It was best to assume there were, it wasn’t like the Shinya could keep all packs out, and it was plausible they never chased them out in the first place. Therefore, keeping an eye out and proceeding with caution was recommended, this was part of survival too, it wasn’t just how to find shelter, water and food, avoiding to become a predator’s meal was quite important as well.

His search for the food led him through bushes and over fallen logs, some split by lightening, black and burned at the place of impact. He jumped over small ravines, tumbled and rolled when necessary and slid down steep slopes. Of course he also climbed on top of boulders, onto thick tree branches and on cliffs, desperate to get where he felt he needed to be, at the very spot to where the scent lured him, from where it beckoned the thief. Shallow rivers where crossed, stepping from stone to stone if possible, otherwise wading through them or just jumping across. Whatever obstacle the bat found on his way, he conquered it with pleasure, invigorated by the promise of food for his grumbling stomach.

Until, eventually, Brandon noticed the forest getting less thick, and the end of the tree-line presented itself. Low bushes marked the edge, and a clearing lied beyond, a grassy field with flowers and an abundance of sunshine. In the middle, the bat spotted a tent, but no trace of the food, nor of the fire that should have been close by. Or was he mistaken? Scanning the place again, the bat only then noticed the small plume of smoke that meandered upwards slowly, dispersed by the wind before it reached an appropriate height. The same wind blew in his face, played with his hair and carried the oh so delicious smell of a meal with it, as if attempting to bait him, to lure the thief out.

It almost worked, but Brandon was smart enough not to make a move before he knew the coast was clear. Since the wind blew his way, using just his sense of smell should suffice, though the scent of food distracted him and drowned all else. Still, he tried but found nothing. Keeping low, the bat sneaked through the bushes, which rustled a bit but that shouldn’t pose a problem; they’d been rustling all along due to the wind’s influence. Once he had passed them, everything was a lot harder, or easier, depending on how one looked at it. With nothing to hide behind, the clearing was treacherous to cross, and the question whether to do it fast or slow emerged, neither option being the better one. The risks were equally big, so it shouldn’t matter, but the bat opted for the choice which made him feel more comfortable: the fast way.

Still keeping his body as close to the ground as possible- bended over and knees forming angles of ninety degrees- the thief started approaching with a sprint, which –given his position- wasn’t quite as fast as normal, but a lot quicker than when sneaking. The back of the tent was where he stopped and caught his breath, forcefully breathing slow to ease the panting and throbbing of his heart, which he could hear and hindered his audial observation. It ceased slowly and slightly, but it was enough, Brandon could detect something else clearly: the bubbling of something, most likely of what was being cooked. A red tongue shot out and licked his lips, saliva being produced already, he couldn’t wait to start eating.

However, he had to check everything, make sure there wasn’t anyone nearby. Why exactly he assumed the one(s) who camped here would attack him even he did not know, a small seed of paranoia seemed to have planted itself deep within his brain, a side-effect of being a wanted man, a thief? Or just because he couldn’t think straight due to hunger? There was no point thinking about it now, the Kelvic carefully pushed a sail of the tent slightly aside and peered inside with one eye. No-one, good.

Credit goes to Engghaen

[Brandon Blackwing]

From peering inside the tent, it went to entering it, sneaking through the rather large assembly of sticks and sails and ropes. The other side was where he stopped and again made room for his orbs to look through, scanning the area that had previously been obscured by the tent itself. Left to right they darted, far away and close by, no spot was skipped nor overlooked. A sigh of relief escaped the bat’s lung when he noted that there was no one near, the coast was clear. Still, the bat did not let go of his caution, keeping his form as low as possible while he stalked out of the tent and closer to the fire.

It wasn’t burning anymore, the flames had died but smoke still swirled out of the charred twigs and other pieces of wood. The one who had set up camp here had also made a tripod out of large branches, which was used to hold a small kettle above the died-out campfire. It was obvious where the delicious scent had come from, a divine-looking stew had been made in the kettle’s belly, spreading the smell and beckoning anyone who wanted to enjoy a good meal. Brandon certainly was part of that group.

He grabbed a ladle that was laying around, and stirred the food carefully, discovering that it contained mushrooms, carrots, some sort of meat and lots of other ingredients. His mouth started watering uncontrollably, his stomach demanded to be given that kettle of delicousness immediately. Using his commonsense, the thief wrapped his sleeve around his hand before grabbing the handle of the kettle and placing it on the ground, immediately starting to spoon the stew into his mouth, chewing briefly and swallowing delightedly. Sparkles filled his eyes as he let his eyelids cover the onyx orbs, savoring the taste.

‘More!’ demanded his stomach greedily, ‘more!’ The bat had no qualms with fulfilling that demand, speeding up the process of scooping up and swallowing, almost emptying the kettle within a couple of chimes, licking his lips and smacking contently. When was the last time he’d eaten something this tasty? A meal, not just a meat pastry or so, no a full meal which drove away his hunger and had him longing for more even though he knew that he couldn’t possibly fit it in his stomach. Brandon figured that it was the time he’d had lunch in the Shooting Star Inn with what’s-his-face.

There was something wrong though, Brandon didn’t know what, nor did he hear or see anything unusual, but he just knew there was something amiss. Looming danger hanging overhead, he could feel it, and his sixth sense had never been wrong. Something or someone was watching his every move, he didn’t doubt it, as a thief it was important to know when it was better to run, not to mention his animal instincts which were sharper than a human’s. No his subconscious had detected something his conscious mind hadn’t and was ringing the alarm bells, screaming in his ear.

And then something else yelled to him, something that whizzed as it rushed through the air. It was a sound he was not familiar with, not immediately so, but he knew what it was and his body reacted on its own to protect him. His head whipped back and dragged his whole torso with it, making him fall backwards on the grass. Meanwhile the howling projectile pierced the air where his arms had been just a tick prior, and buried itself in bark instead of in flesh. Arrow. That meant there had to be a guy with a bow around somewhere to Brandon’s right. His falling body curled up and rolled backwards, the thief getting back on his feet immediately, onyx orbs shooting glances to the place where the attacker should be located.

While the bat expected to see no one and instead hear more arrows coming his way, he found that the guy with the bow had emerged from his hiding spot and chose to tread into the clearing, a new arrow nocked, but the bowstring wasn’t tensed. The man was clothed in browns, and dark reds, with a dark green with brown cape, dark brown leather boots, gloved and hooded. Everything but the cape was leather, and the only feature of him the bat could actually see was a mouth that said ‘not amused’ and a chin shaped like a brick. The mysterious man –hunter, probably- motioned with his head towards the bat and spoke: “Who the petch are you, and what do you think you’re doing, eating my food!?”
“HA! ” replied the bat, feeling anger seeping into his veins, together with adrenaline, “What do you think you are doing, ‘Mr. Shoot First, Ask Questions Later’?!” His voice reflected his mood, which was not quite great anymore. Having arrows aimed at him was not something he was fond of, nor was he able to dismiss it as a ‘small mistake’. No, the man had been threatening him with ranged attacks and had almost managed to make it pierce his arm. There was no way he could just let that slide, no matter who the guy was. “Have you lost your petching mind!?”

Credit goes to Engghaen

[Brandon Blackwing]

“Hm, it’s my policy to shoot rogues on sight. In my experience they then drop what they were about to steal and run for their miserable lives. Or, if they can’t because they have an arrow sticking out their leg, they stumble away and plea for mercy when I catch up.”
“Is that so? Do I look like a rogue to you, eh?! I wasn’t even stealing anything!”
“You were eating my food without permission, that’s stealing.” said the hunter flatly.
“You shouldn’t have left it alone then. All I saw was an abandoned pot of stew, finders keepers,” came the reply in a hiss.
“So you are a rogue after all,” spoke the hunter with a scowl while pulling back the string of his bow, the arrow pointing directly at him. “I think I’ll have to drag you to the Shinya.” The corners of the man’s mouth turned downwards, subtle lines accentuating it.
“You’ll have to catch me first though,” sneered the bat with a smug, though forced, grin.
The hunter’s mouth twisted into a grin as well. “That won’t be too hard, especially since you’ll soon have an arrow sticking in your leg.”

The arrow and bowstring had been pulled behind the place where his ear should be, arrow still aimed at the bat, but now the tip pointed at the thief’s legs. The Kelvic lowered himself, preparing to dodge the shot that would come soon. It was quite an annoying situation; he couldn’t run for then he wouldn’t know when to dodge, unable to keep an eye on his opponent. Not that it would help him, he couldn’t evade incoming arrows even if he wanted to, last time had just been pure luck. No, even if he managed to jump aside when the bowman fired, it was possible that he would still be hit, because the man had anticipated his movement. While the thief would indeed be unable to dodge arrows that would strike anywhere on his body, there however was something else he could do.

Given that the hunter wouldn’t aim to kill –and he wouldn’t, seeing as he could have done just that when Brandon was busy stuffing himself- he should be able to avoid being hit. The arrows would not strike lethally, so his head and chest were safe, his arms and legs however were likely to be targeted. The upper regions of those limbs to be precise, since those didn’t move as much as the lower ones. With that knowledge, Brandon felt a little safer, a little more confident in his odds. It was true that he couldn’t turn his back on the hunter, so the only option was to fight. Losing meant arrest, and winning was his way of escaping, so that was what he had to do. Still, he’d have to be careful and very observant if he wanted to reach the guy, otherwise arrows would shed his blood and torture his body.

About twenty meters of grassy land separated the two, crossing it in a straight line would be the fastest way… the fastest way to his demise, that is. No, he should move in a zigzag pattern, it would make it harder for the bowman to aim, yet it was easy to see through. Even if twenty meters wasn’t too much to cross swiftly, it was far too great a distance to cross when approaching a man with a bow. If however, he could distract him for just an instant, he had a slim chance to reach the guys position before he got hit. If his distraction could break the man’s poise… throwing something at him should do… and he did have six daggers hidden under his coat… yes, that could work. Still, he couldn’t allow himself to fall into a rhythm when zigzagging, for that would be too predictable, the bat needed to find a way to be inconsistent in regards to the time that passed, the amount of steps he took between his ‘zig’ and his ‘zag’. That would be crucial. Not allowing the hunter to predict his movements would be crucial.

As the bat was about to move, he thought of one last thing: his opponent would probably shoot as soon as he started running, as soon as he moved but a muscle he would be stopped, so he should start his approach with an evasion. With that in mind he dove to the left and to the ground, body forming a slight arch in the air, hands reaching for the grass, chin bumping into his chest, knees bending and closing in on his chest too. The whiiiiiizzzzz of the arrow launched from the bow followed suit, the flying claw piercing the air where he had stood just a tick ago, it was closer than he had expected Somehow he had thought he’d be farther away before the arrow was loosed. No time to waste on such thoughts, his hand landed and led his curled up body into a tight roll, rushing upwards instantly and continuing his run. Dark orbs were locked on the enemy, who already had nocked a new arrow, the feathers brushing against his hood.

Time for a shift in direction, the bat determined, and sharply turned right so he was diagonally sprinting forwards. Another arrow flew past him, closer this time, but still aimed for his legs. Three steps this time, then another turn, the distance was slowly being crossed, slowly but steadily diminishing.

Credit goes to Engghaen

[Brandon Blackwing]

The distance was getting smaller and smaller with each step the bat took, with each dive and roll that was executed to avoid the sharp metal tips of the passing arrows. Still, while his movements became more irregular and chaotic as he came closer to the bowman, he could not prevent being grazed by the projectiles. Thin stripes of cut-open skin leaked crimson drops; one on his cheek when he had just dived to the ground and another one on his thigh. Only two minor wounds, but they stung quite a bit… and the wound on his leg was soaking the torn cloth of his trousers, which annoyed him more than it affected his movements, but still.

By now, the bat had almost reached the hunter, which was a good thing, though the fact that with so little space between them and the bowman would have a hard time missing the bat –no matter how much the thief tried to evade- made it tricky. Brandon had taken this factor into account of course, the hunter was now well within his range too, and as such it was time to put his plan in motion. A hand slid into his coat, returning with a dagger clasped in its grip.

Having grabbed the hilt ready to throw, it took little effort to actually hurl the weapon to his foe. A flick of his wrist, a stroke of his fingers to keep it level while it travelled through the air. The bat hadn’t aimed to kill, but he had intended to wound the man, if possible. Of course the objective was just to make the man flinch or dodge so he could close in without too much danger of being hit by the hunter’s arrows. Every time the man would recover the bat would throw a new projectile at him so to make sure he couldn’t fire his bow.

Upon viewing the sharp-pointed blade speeding towards him, the hunter stopped drawing the bowstring back and let it relax in order to evade the incoming dagger. Then, as the thrown blade struck a tree, the bowman once more drew the arrow back, took aim but was again forced to avoid the ranged attack as the bat approached. While Brandon did not manage to even scratch his opponent from afar, it gave him time to get as close as he needed to be, close enough to engage in close combat.

The hunter seemed to have no qualms with it, abandoning his bow as soon as he was aware of the bat’s intentions, throwing the weapon aside while a cruel grin unfolded on his lips. Brandon stopped his run immediately, even taking a couple of steps back with an equally pleased grin plastered on his mouth. Bowman was a good sport it seemed, assuming a fighting stance while Brandon did the exact same thing. “Ah, this is just great!” the man spoke with sincerity as he threw off his cape, revealing himself entirely, “It has been a long time since I’ve gotten myself an opponent for a fistfight! Archery is fun in its own way, but my fists just can’t stop itching, you know.” Another grin was beamed at the thief while Bowman loosened his shoulders by swinging his arms up and down. “I might have become a little rusty though, but my current skill should be more than enough to handle one like you.” A killing glare.

Bowman –like Bran had dubbed the huntsman- was not much taller than the bat himself, they were about the same size, but the difference in bodies was enormous. Where the thief was slender, Bowman was bulky; muscles of the hardest steel shaped his body, they rippled beneath his sleeveless tunic, but could be clearly seen on his arms. A gulp of nervousness was swallowed as the Kelvic readied himself, if he stuck to his style of fighting he wouldn’t lose, not to anyone. Still, the confidence of Bowman was pressuring the thief, cold sweat was gathering on his body as he stared into the cold and observant eyes of the hunter. His heart started racing, his breath ragged and fast. Shyke! I’m in trouble! I can’t win this, I have to run and disappear before he can reach his bow! is what crossed his mind as he gazed upon the muscular form of his foe. I’m dead meat!

Credit goes to Engghaen

[Brandon Blackwing]

No, it wasn't good to think like that, if he did he would truly be crushed in this fight. He should go for the win, not thinking about defeat! He could beat this guy, it would only take a lot of skill and focus. Calm down, whispered his mind soothingly, just do what you have to do, but show no fear. Keep calm and prepare for the worst while hoping for the best. Bowman is bulky, yes, but you are faster, more agile. All you have to do is take him out with the techniques you practiced. A deep breath escaped his lungs.

As the bat regained his cool, Bowman did not stand around doing nothing, instead he charged, dashing and closing in in less than a tick, which caused Brandon's eyes to open wide with surprise. A right hook came his way, splitting the air as it sped to the bat's face. There wasn't much Brandon could do, even though he lifted his arms in an attempt to block, the man's punch broke through and smashed into the thief's skull. Spitting a mouthful of saliva out in the open as he staggered to the side, head slammed back due to the impact, the Kelvic could barely see the follow-up punch coming.

However, the bat was a lucky Kelvic. The awesome power with which the fist was thrown had been enough to make the thief go down, even though his broken through block had somewhat lessened the force of impact. As such, the uppercut missed the bat's chin just barely -not that Brandon noticed. Being stunned he didn't record anything for a brief moment, until he found himself hurrying towards the floor. He snapped out of it immediately, using the momentum of his fall to roll away over his shoulder, getting to his feet instantly at the end. Tsk! This guy's power.... I'd better dodge those punches, I don't think I'll be able to take more than two...

With this resolve, the bat steeled his nerves and while adrenaline rushed through his veins, he once more assumed a fighting stance. If he just punched this guy, he wouldn't hurt him much, the bat knew, those muscles would absorb most of the force, but there was a technique to make one's fists into hammers. Weight shifting. Brandon dashed forwards, closing the small gap between the fighters immediately, evading the multiple jabs thrown his way. The last step he took was the one he used to step in, turned his hips and swung a fist of his own into Bowman's stomach. A bestial roar tore itself out of his throat as his blow made contact, hitting the weak spot -protected by hard abs, but still- with all his weight and strength behind it. Not to mention the momentum of his dash.

A killer blow.

Well, it would have been if Brandon were a bit stronger, built for power, not speed and agility. And if his opponent hadn't had such incredible stamina and endurance. While his face depicted horrible pains, he did not move but to aim a new uppercut for the bat's chin. Yet, that counter came a bit too late, as Brandon had already jumped back, creating a little space between them. His hit and away fighting style. Deal some damage, one blow at a time, get out of the target's range before they can retaliate and repeat. Of course, if safe enough he could do a combination of attacks, but not just yet, his enemy wasn't weakened enough yet -one punch wasn't enough, no matter how much power had been behind it. Some would say it was a cowardly style of fighting, an insult to the brave and valiant. Brandon did not care about that, it made use of his strengths and made him able to keep up with guys like the one before him. Well, it would... in time, when he had become a little more skilled.

Credit goes to Engghaen

[Brandon Blackwing]

Like he had said before, one hit wasn't enough to bring his opponent down, usually it wouldn't take any foe down -unless it was a very well-placed pinpoint blow. In a battle as this though, landing such attack was difficult. While pinpoint blows were powerful, they were easy to predict and as such not very much suited for battle, for sneak attacks on the other hand... No matter, no matter, he could use them from time to time if an opportunity presented itself. Of course, those chances had to be noticed and seized first before he could take action, and to do that he had to slow his opponent down, weaken him.

Easier said than done.

Bowman was not one to be stunned by a successful attack by his enemy, so it seemed as he wasted no time and dashed with speed one wouldn't think possible for a man of his built. However, his torso was not the only thing about him that had been trained rigorously, his legs too were bloated with strong muscles, contributing to his swiftness. Brandon noticed a moment too late, stepping to the left to dodge the liver blow coming his way, but could not prevent the fist to hit his hip instead. Unfortunately for bowman, hips were pure bone and thus quite hard. The bat wasn't injured at all, while bowman probably felt pain stinging his knuckles, making him want to roar and scream.

Nothing changed, Bowman did not seem to flinch at all, readying his fists once more, but now a strange light flared in his orbs. A sparkle the bat recognized immediately upon seeing it, the man's expression had changed drastically as well. He was getting serious now, he had decided that he'd give the nuisance of a thief a taste of his full power. That resolve sparked Brandon's own; the adrenaline increasing, the sweat pearling out of his pores in larger numbers and his breath getting faster and faster. True power, eh? He'd return the favor. He'd focus, observe, react and win. He would use his built to his advantage.

True, Brandon wasn't the strongest of all, neither was he one who could take the most punishment and shrug it off as if it was nothing. He was neither of those things, but, he was fast and agile. Acrobatic and swift. Out-speeding his enemy was what he had to do, dance around him with rolls and dodges, sidesteps and blocks, then retaliate. A smug grin appeared on his lips, thin and flighty, but it was there, if only for just a moment. It vanished when Bowman again closed in with surprising speed and rushed his fists toward the bat. Brandon couldn't do much more than stepping backwards while weaving his body left to right, dodging half of them, and blocking the rest. However, every single blow that hit his arms, that was blocked by them still hurt more than he had expected. Soon, strained under the rain of punches, they started aching in lots of places and Brandon realized what was going on.

It wasn't like Bowman just wasn't fast enough in his throwing of attacks, not at all, he allowed the bat to dodge, attacked the side the bat fled to instantly and forced him to defend. As such he kept striking Brandon's arms, and his punches were neutralized. Or, that's what the Kelvic thought at first, but then -when the pain came- it dawned on him: Bowman was deliberately aiming for the thief's arms. Sure, it wasn't that bad since it meant he couldn't hit his body or face. The problem however was that after a while -so Brandon knew all too well- his arms would become numb and heavy. Using them for anything at all would be close to impossible. No defending, no punching. Indeed, his legs were still operational, but only using one's legs in a battle like this one was asking for trouble. This is bad!

Retreating was the obvious choice in this situation, shuffling backwards as fast as possible, doing his utmost best to evade any and all attacks his opponent launched. Bowman did not follow though, staying at his spot, keeping to his rhythm, grinning and beckoning him with his hand as if to enrage the Kelvic. It worked rather well, Brandon was aware that he had been on the defensive for way too long, it was time to strike back!

Credit goes to Engghaen

[Brandon Blackwing]

Even though that was the plan, not everything always went like they were supposed to. While Brandon tried his hardest to actually get within range, his opponent kept him out of it with quick jabs, forcing the bat back each and every time he got close enough. Not only that, but after a short while the bowman started approaching as well, driving the bat further and further back. Jabs didn't have a lot of power behind them, but they were fast and had a long reach, perfect for keeping foes away. Brandon's face reflected his emotions all too well, frowned brows and an agitated snarl.

Again he attempted to close the distance between the two fighters, but once more some jabs flew his way, forcing him to doge and step back. He growled in frustration, his opponent smirking as if to mock him. As if he controlled the whole fight... wait.... Suddenly, the Kelvic saw what was going on, why his every move was negated and how he was pushed around so easily. His foe was controlling the pace, he had dragged the bat into his own pace by denying him the opportunity to strike and with his intimidating demeanor. He had induced a subtle fear in the bat's mind, which told the thief to back away, to take a step back, because taking another one of Bowman's punches would become his demise.

While that might be true -Bowman's blows were harder than most other people's- there was one thing that seemed like the only option but it was not. Frightened people tended to start thinking in simpler ways than usual, no matter how intelligent they were before. If fright told one to back away, they would, if it told them to run, they would. If one could make it seem as if attacking was the only option, than that was what that person would do. In that way one could control their opponent with fear, block their thinking process and let them act on instinct alone. Bowman was a terrifying opponent in that regard, well, he was a terrifying foe in general.

But to get back to the point; backing off was not the only possibility right now. Two more punches of Bowman and he would be done for, but no one ever said that he couldn't dodge them before attacking, right? Brandon was fast and agile, he should be able to evade whatever the hunter threw at him and then retaliate. Why had he been using this slow turtle speed for his movements? Wasn't he capable of moving way quicker than this? Bowman had been setting the pace, that's why. But that was going to change, Brandon would now go all out, use his full potential. First he needed some space though, to get ready for what was to come.

His knees bended slightly, launching him up in the air, back tilting and arching down slightly, making him tumbling above the ground. One leg lashed out at his foe, forcing Bowman to retreat himself, increasing the distance between them even more. Brandon landed on his feet a couple of meters away, immediately starting to bounce on the ball of his feet and getting into a rhythm of his own. Footwork was important, especially with his style that was based on mobility.

Not only enabled his bounce-step him to move around faster, it also allowed for quicker shifts of direction and to cover more space in less time. While bouncing may seem tiring, it wasn't at all. The thing that was being misunderstood was that one did not have to jump up. One did not have to tense their leg muscles, but they had to be relaxed, balanced in order to achieve smooth movement. This way it used far less stamina than one might have thought, but of course, it was a hard thing to learn -once you got the hang of it though, it was as easy as walking around. The bounce-step was not something Brandon would use all the time, no, it was necessary right now to get in and out Bowman's range quickly, evading the hunter's blows and returning his own.

When one was too far, it would only drain one's stamina slowly, and since the distance was too great, there was no need to change directions swiftly; the opponent couldn't hit him anyway? When too close however, the problem was that there wasn't enough room to move like that, so then it was better to dodge with the torso and head while the legs were grounded firmly. Brandon had spent quite some time thinking of a fighting style that suited him best, a style he called 'Hit and Away', but was known in sports like boxing as 'Hit and Run'. It was the same thing, only named differently. Names didn't matter much to the Kelvic anyway.

The thief had a couple of techniques for annoying foes, people like this one. The jab was one of the first punches Brandon had ever learned, as such he too could use it fairly well. With a simple bounce-step he entered Bowman's range, with another he danced past the few jabs the man could throw before aiming a jab to Bowman's right eye. Another one followed suit, and then the bat stepped back out of his range, preventing being hit by the counters the hunter hoped would land. The process was repeated a couple of times, Bowman's footwork wasn't great, but he was sturdy and had a powerful pair of fists. It did not take long before the man had had enough and chose to make it a close combat fight instead.

Credit goes to Engghaen

[Brandon Blackwing]

While that was a good strategy, Bowman was too late with his charge. Even worse, he made things easier on Brandon, as the thief only had to do what the hunter had done just chimes prior; knocking him out of his rhythm with jabs. The hunter’s approach was interrupted by new jabs to the eye, and more than before could be thrown. Brandon grinned smugly as his target became even more agitated, the frustration was painted on the man’s face and only served as encouragement to Brandon, who knew that agitated opponents were ones that made mistakes and were rash in their actions, only aiding in their defeat.

Before long Bowman’s eye had endured way too many blows to stay unaffected. Jabs were not meant to deal lots of damage, but that did not mean they couldn’t be used for all sorts of tactics. Bowman’s eye had begun swelling, thick and damaged by Brandon’s relentless and repetitive strikes. It was slowly closing, unable to stay opened, forced to close by the swelling. There was nothing Bowman could do about it, but he might not have noticed what was going on, overlooking things in his frustration. All that probably mattered to him was that he had failed to come close and did not succeed in hitting his foe. A source for frustration, and the source that would lead Brandon to victory.

Like said before, Brandon wasn’t just aiming blows to the man’s eye for no reason, there was a plan behind it, a strategy. The bat could not win should he take Bowman head on, the hunter’s blows were too powerful for him to shrug off and when facing one another head on, both parties were sure to take damage. Besides, it was hard to land pinpoint blows on an attentive opponent who could end the fight with three punches. With a sneak attack though, Brandon wouldn’t have that much trouble, but in a battle like this it was hard to successfully execute a sneak attack. There was no use in trying if you were in the focus of attention after all.

That was where the jabs came in. Bowman was too attentive and observant, an attack from behind was impossible, there was no place to disappear into either. He had fixed that now though, he had created a blind spot he could exploit, a spot where he would be invisible. The bat beamed his foe another smug grin before using the bounce-step to circle around him, vanishing from the hunter’s sight. Of course, Bowman would only have to turn his head to find him again, but Brandon wasn’t planning on just standing around. Instead, he kept moving quickly, circling around his foe, who was spinning his head and occasionally his body with hopes to catch a glimpse of the Kelvic. And he did, but Brandon had allowed it, having drawn close enough to smash his fist into the man’s face. As per usual when shifting weight to punch, all his bodyweight was behind it. More followed, it was a combination of blows, all landed successfully on Bowman’s surprised face. This was what they called a sneak attack.

Well, guerilla tactics was the more correct term; since Brandon stepped away quickly after the amount of blows he’d wanted to throw, evading Bowman’s fist with ease and vanishing once more, swiftly stepping and staying in the blind spot. While it might not have seemed that way, not everything was going according to plan. Brandon had believed Bowman would have collapsed after his constructive hits, but that did not seem to be the case. No matter, dispatching his opponent wouldn’t be too hard anymore, the man couldn’t possibly retaliate, not without his sight. That was the problem of human’s; they relied too much on sight, a flaw Brandon exploited all too willingly.

What came next was impeding the foe’s movement, which wasn’t too hard either. The bounce-step brought him close in very little time and the bat raised his foot mid-jump, bringing it down into the back of Bowman’s knee with a stomp, bringing the man to his knees. It hurt a lot, it seemed, the victim yelled out in pain, and Brandon responded with a kick to the head. Powerful, but not enough. Bowman got back up –albeit slowly and with a pained face- and assumed a defensive stance. He seemed to have calmed down, but it was no use, Brandon had been dancing around again, and struck from the side this time, making use of the fact that Bowman turned his head in the direction of his blinded eye, as to compensate for it. It had the opposite effect. The Kelvic’s knee collided with the man’s thigh. That too was a blow that caused a lot of pain, not to mention it would cause the man to limp for a while.

From there Brandon could do just about anything he wanted, Bowman was too slow in his movements, he was half-blind. Helpless. Sneaking up from behind was no big deal, the bounce-step was quick and Brandon was naturally quiet in his movements. While Bowman shuffled around his own axis, the bat raised both arms, delivering a sharp chop on both sides of the man’s neck simultaneously. Each chop blocked important pathways to the brain, interrupting the flow of blood and electric signals for just a moment, but it was enough to knock someone out. Bowman was no exception and collapsed onto the grass.

A deep sigh was let out of the thief’s lungs as he wiped the sweat from his brow and paced away, in search of his daggers. If he remembered correctly, they should be lying around in the bush to the left of the campfire, if the tent was behind him. Another sigh escaped as he made his way towards that place.

Credit goes to Engghaen