Solo Wolf and Hasty Delivery

Einar's rummaging through a job thread, bloody unbelievable, I know.

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A city floating in the center of a lake, Ravok is a place of dark beauty, romance and culture. Behind it all though is the presence of Rhysol, God of Evil and Betrayal. The city is controlled by The Black Sun, a religious organization devoted to Rhysol. [Lore]

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Wolf and Hasty Delivery

Postby Belugnir on July 1st, 2018, 4:31 am

Summer 72nd, 8th Bell of Afternoon, Upon the Road Leading from Ravok’s North Outpost to the City Proper:

‘’Come on, ye arse. What’s gotten into you all of a cockin’ sudden?’’, vainly did Einar pull at Finnard’s reins. The mountain pony refused to move, and continued to thrash his head away whenever its owner made attempt at forcing it to get going. They'd stopped dead upon the road.

‘’Come fuckin’ on, we’ve been at this shyke for six days, what’s the big buggering idea now? Get moving you mule. That bitch’s package won’t rightly deliver itself, come on, we’re almost to the fuckin’ shore, come on!’’, the mercenary was quickly unnerved by Fin’s disobedience. And rightly so.

This was his first job in a decent while, and what a cockin’ job it was. The black ones’ bitch commander from the outpost, Samara-what’s-her-name, had practically dumped a pair of heavy leather bags, sealed shut on him with orders to deliver them to some bloke back within the city, under pain of torture or some other ominous shyke like that were he to fail or to bugger around with the cargo. As if he was her resident fuckin’ bootlicker. Attitude aside, it was a way to earn coin and he’d have just stirred trouble for himself if he’d argued back, thus here he was, at the end of his sixth day away from the outpost. Normally Ein would have gotten to the city by this point, but he had mainly opted to walk alongside his horse while the animal hauled his delivery, as opposed to constantly riding the bugger, as that would more than likely have outright ruined the animal’s spine, for while it was built for long treks under heavy load, a bastard in full plate on top of whatever the sodding hell was in those sacks would be well over what the pony could endure. Or so Einar evaluated things.

Regardless, sparing his pony excessive exhaustion had cost him a full day of speed, and a good deal of his own stamina. Frankly, Einar was bloody fuckin’ tired, as he’d essentially walked three quarters of the way from the outpost to the northern lake shore, with today being a particularly long day, and to say nothing of the fact that he wore his full gear on him for most of the way, armor, daggers, poleaxe and all, seeing as at any point, some horrid buggery could have emerged from the surrounding woods… even so, the recent days had gone uneventfully, thank the fuckin’ gods for one good thing.

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Last edited by Belugnir on July 1st, 2018, 7:12 am, edited 3 times in total.
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Wolf and Hasty Delivery

Postby Belugnir on July 1st, 2018, 5:04 am

‘’I swear I’ll have you for bloody supper if you don’t get going right this bloody instant…’’, Einar was brooding through grit teeth, yet all his pony responded with was further thrashing of its head, followed by plentiful distressed snorts… yet Ein was too pig-headed in his irritation to stop and use his head for an ounce of time… And so his guard was horribly lowered.

A low growl crept into the mercenary’s ears just in time for him to turn his head, and by a horribly uncomfortable feat of reflex, place his armored forearm in the way of fanged jaws that would have otherwise clasped about his throat. Finnard pulled away as a great shadow of fur with maddened eyes of beryl bore itself down upon the pony’s owner. Aided by the fact that Einar’s footing was horribly off, and that he’d still held a hand to Fin’s reins as the pony pulled away in the outburst of its fright, the great black wolf was able to press its weight upon the mercenary in a manner that forced the man off his feet, and so Ein fell upon the ground, landing on the full length of his back, his fall barely softened by the padding that stood underneath his coat of plates. The back of his head grazed upon the dirt, ridden road, and the world above became a blur. He could still feel the black beast’s weight upon him, and numbly attempted to place his hands, clad in plated gauntlets between the monster’s head and his own… for several long moments, Ein was completely powerless in his daze…

Then a loud squeal broke out through the air, and a heavy thud graced Ein’s ears, just as his vision cleared enough to see the shadow of fur launched off of his own body, as Finnard’s back hooves landed beside the mercenary, and the wolf, likely with broken ribs and mushed insides, landed half a dozen feet away to the side… Yet the black beast only growled a horrible, guttural noise, and bore itself upon its feet again, pouncing forth with no apparent regard the cavity freshly shoved into its side.

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Wolf and Hasty Delivery

Postby Belugnir on July 1st, 2018, 5:47 am

Einar had just barely enough time and sense to grab his poleaxe, dropped in the midst of his shameful felling, and thrust the weapon’s pike at the charging hound, barely having brought himself into a sitting position, as for a moment longer his own legs chose to disobey him, and even if they hadn’t, it was a matter of not having the luxury of time needed to bring himself back upon his feet. The steely pike of Ein’s weapon pierced the wolf, only, aimed hastily and clumsily in the midst of pain, numbness and rushed effort, it skewered the creature not through where its front legs met and where its heart ought to have stood, but where its right front leg met with its chest, and the weight of a Sunberthain bastard in full armor that sat behind the weapon’s length led the wolf’s trajectory to the side, tripping the beast over the dull inner end of the weapon’s axe head along the way, though both setting the wolf free of its impalement and wringing the axe from Ein’s grip again, as he still hadn’t fully recovered from the impact of his fall yet.

The black beast, still seemingly oblivious to its own maiming and more than likely shattered side of a ribcage, set its attention on Finnard for a change, all it took being the plain fact that the horse was now closer to it than the man. The pony raised itself onto its hind legs, and brought a hoof down upon the side of the wolf’s neck, thrashing the feral creature to the side again, where upon it came to grips with Einar again. The mercenary had used an opening as best as he could, and plucking the dagger he’d still owed to an old foe from his belt, shoved the whole foot of the thing’s blade into the thick meat at the side of the wolf’s already broken chest… yet the creature kept on wailing horrible sounds and clapping its jaw… and so man and beast began to tumble in a mantle of dirt.

Eventually, the wolf had managed to get past Einar’s flailing fists clad in steel, as the man opted to shoving one of his clutched hands repeatedly into the monster’s underbelly in hopes of finally instilling enough damage that the fuckin’ bastard would stop moving. The beast would have set a solid, horrible bite upon the space between Ein’s right shoulder and his neck. Thankfully all that this had accomplished was unhinging several metal plates of Ein’s armor, yet the creature kept gnawing, with maddened hunger, biting another two times, and landing a solid gnash into the flesh that rested beneath steel and padding, before Ein could clasp his hands over the creature’s head, one grabbing at each jaw.

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Wolf and Hasty Delivery

Postby Belugnir on July 1st, 2018, 6:08 am

In a fit of pained fury and desperation, bruised and maimed by the ordeal, gnashing his own teeth to the point where his jaw was going numb, Einar’s mind dove into anger, using it as leverage to pull upon the backbone of his being, bringing a poorly controlled surge of djed forth from his lower body and into his arms. With strength that he would owe to half a month’s recovery, in one spiteful motion, Einar snapped the beast’s lower jaw free from its skull, leaving it dangling as he hurled the wolf off of himself before his brief burst of fluxed strength could fade from embers into ash, more than likely fracturing the monster’s spine with the deed.

Yet he was far from done there. Now it was Einar who threw himself upon the great wolf, pulling Rastmo’s crude dagger from the beast’s side and shoving it into the creature once, twice, and a third time, all the while mauling on the beast’s head with a clutched, steel-clad fist, as the wolf still attempted to bite and claw back, in spite of its body having given out to injury. Finally, Einar had stumbled up to his feet, salivating in the midst of the struggle to do so, taking hold of his poleaxe again, before ramming the thing’s spike twice over, not into the disabled animal, but through its torso and into the ground upon which it laid, and finally, for good measure, a strike of the poleaxe’s hammer end, delivered to the underside of the wolf’s ribcage, sending the animal sliding over the ground another half a foot…

And then Einar’s fit of anger would have come to a close, and without a spiteful force of mind to keep him going, he finally felt the weakness in his legs for what it was, and collapsed upon his knees, hitting the ground with his injured shoulder afterward, and landing on his back in the dirt, with the early evening sky overhead swiftly fading into blackness of his own mind. There was such great relief in simply giving in to the urge of sleep.

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Wolf and Hasty Delivery

Postby Belugnir on July 1st, 2018, 6:47 am

He opened his eyes to a sky still barely lit by sun’s dying breath, woken by Finnard’s snout poking at his cheek, bathed in cold sweat. Einar was swift to rise to his feet, and swifter yet to lower himself upon his arse again, as a splitting headache came upon him belike a heavy axe to the nape. Beside him laid his weapons, the leather bags he was meant to deliver for Samara, undone from Fin’s saddle straps in the midst of the beast’s attack… and finally, the swiftly cooling body of the dead wolf. Though Ein hardly had the time to admire his kill, for a terrible weight settled in his belly at the thought of having left himself so easily exposed, halfway on his way to the grave, and after having to deal with no more than a single cockin’ mongrel, with help from his bloody horse, to boot… The realization of how close one had come to their own death mere moments ago, and on multiple occasions, too, was not a healthy thing upon the human mind, triply so when said mind had forced itself into performing feats of personal magic it had never pulled off previously.

After neatly having thrown up the sum of his most recent meal to the side of the road, Ein returned himself to a feverish seat again… and his eyes fell upon the mountain pony.

‘’…Pe –cough – petch are ye gawkin’ at, eh?’’, Ein mumbled with the most terrible enforcement of bravado, failing at even thrusting his chin out at the pony the way he’d wanted to.

Finnard merely swayed his head to the side with a peaceful, almost disappointing snort, before starting to idle away, nosing about the road.

‘’That’s wha-‘’, the man began to grumble, pressing a hand to the laceration above his right shoulder: ‘’Tha’s what I bloody thought…’’ Why do I keep talking to a sodding horse, anyway…?

It would take Einar another ten chimes of coping before he could properly set himself to his feet again, and those were ten chimes of frightfully holding on to his poleaxe for fear that the furred whoreson had a pack...though were that the case, Ein figured he’d probably have had his throat torn out a dozen and a half times over by now… And every now and again, the mercenary's gaze would wander back to where a corpse clad in nightly fur still laid, reluctant to believe that the bloody bastard was rightly dead, what with how many stab wounds and broken bones it took to put the damn thing down.

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Wolf and Hasty Delivery

Postby Belugnir on July 1st, 2018, 10:54 am

Eventually, Ein had hauled himself a brief way off the road, dragging Fin along by the reins. Within a small clearing, he’d collapsed back against a tree and spent the next half a bell losing his consciousness briefly several times over, with the pony’s reins in hand. Finally, the man mustered enough strength and wit about himself, finding his hatchet and flint. And just as the last ounce of daylight had faded, Ein had managed to finish gathering a handful of deadwood on a pile and setting light to it. Hell only knows how he’d managed to accomplish it with paling, trembling hands.

Afterward he would proceed to seat himself drowsily by a stump and start unbuckling his armor, namely where the wolf had managed to maul through the plate and the padding. All he could do was pluck a waterskin from his saddlebags and wash the laceration clean. Thankfully the armor did its job well, and the only injury were two relatively shallow fang marks, though both had pierced through the whole of his skin and then got torn to the side in the flurry… Ein sloppily bound his wound with the cleanest cloth he could find among his belongings and briefly slumped in his seat again…

I shouldn’t ‘ave fluxed the bastard… could ‘ave kept stabbing the prick in the kidneys and I wouldn’t be this pissin’ helpless…

He needed to achieve a peace of mind. And self scolding was not going to be of help. It was horribly cold, unnaturally so. So he focused on the fire in front of him. His chest and stomach were in pain, so he focused on his breathing. A blurry image of hearth fire came to his mind, and he slowly began to distinguish and clarify it amidst the chaos in the background… Warmth and life. As he brought himself into this shallow state of meditation, Ein finally felt the feverish aching within his body beginning to subside, and his the trembling within his limbs diminish. He remained like so briefly to fortify his state of mind, though soon enough, he was upon his feet again, and began to move about. Firstly he bound Finnard to his resting tree stump, not a far way off from the fire. Then he proceeded to gather more deadwood from the surrounding forest floor, having retrieved his poleaxe and daggers, he held one hand committed to the weapons, and an eye and ear committed to his surroundings as he worked. Soon enough he had four smaller fires going, spread around the border of the clearing. Those would be beacons to ward off and warn him if any nasty buggery happened to creep about… He made an effort to position them so the surrounding forest would be at minimal risk of being set ablaze… and if that did happen… well, he’ll take condolence in the fact that every fuckin’ wolf and other monstrosity lurking in the woods would get to burn down with ‘em.

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Wolf and Hasty Delivery

Postby Belugnir on July 1st, 2018, 10:56 pm

After a brief rest, still using his weakly entranced state of mind to move about more efficiently and help himself ignore the fever that was building up within him, Ein had staggered back to where the wolf’s body was left by the road. It was him and Fin killed the bloody bastard, so they’ll have him sooner than the worms as well. Einar had dragged the wolf’s maimed body over with some struggle, giving a rough estimate that the creature had well over eighty something pounds to go around. Normally, he would have went to strip the body of its hide and make that a nightly pastime amidst brief sessions of sleep… but as things stood, he was too exhausted and stressed to do a proper job of it. He knew that much. So what he did was bind the creature’s legs together with rope , before hurling the other end over a thick branch nearest to his central campfire, and pulling the corpse up to be suspended in the air. For this he had to implore a bit of Fin’s help again, strapping the rope to his horse’s saddle and accomplishing most of the pulling on Finnard’s account. Soon the wolf was bound hanging some five feet over the ground away from the vermin of soil, and the crackling fire would do well enough to keep any creatures that might be attracted to a fresh carcass… or so Einar hoped as he filled Fin’s feeding sack and bound it about the pony’s head. Tired as he was, he gave the horse several weakly pats along its neck.

‘’…Thank you for saving me arse back there... ye blunderin’ bastard… Shove me awake if more nasty buggery comes about, will ye?’’

Fin idly kept snorting irregularly over his feeding bag as he munched on the contents. As though Einar wasn’t even there.

‘’Of course ye will.’’, at this point Einar outright forced himself to chuckle… coping with the stress of an hour ago was indeed proving a challenge on par with actually killing the fuckin’ wolf…

Finally, with his trophy kill hanged and Samara's cargo secure by the side of his resting stump, the mercenary would pass out again, leaned against a tree stump beside his fire, with his wounds loosely bound, his armor mostly still attached, one hand gripping his poleaxe and the other resting by the handle of Rastmo’s dagger. As opposed to his regular repertoire of sleeping through the night in brief intervals between long waking pauses, a thing that was normally aided by his limited skill of meditation and a force of habit that comes from spending a decent hunk of time making do within the wilds… Einar slept long and hard, a lengthy while after his fires went out, and far into the noon of the following day, a long, deep rest, befitting of his reckless feat from a bell and some ago … a pass-up that could easily spell certain death in the wilds provided the least bit of bad luck.

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Wolf and Hasty Delivery

Postby Belugnir on July 2nd, 2018, 1:16 am

Summer 73rd, The Vitrax's Courtyard, Late Afternoon:

''Fuck do you mean you don't know who asked for it?'', Einar retorted angrily at the ebon-clad soldier to whom he'd just handed over the leather sacks Samara requested delivered. The mercenary was decently recovered from yesterday's ordeal, having slept through a full night and a shameful part of the following day. Though thankfully he'd managed to get to the lake's shore with all of his belongings, the wolf's body included, in tact just in time to board a ferry that was leaving for the city proper. So here he was, roughly four bells afterward, tired, hungry, and still suffering the consequences of his burst overgiving from yesterday, apparent in the fact that there was an odd numbness in his lower left leg, giving him a little bit of a limp, the fact that his fingers still trembled under the gauntlets he wore, and the fact that the stress of yesterday had caused several patches of his beard and hair to speedily turn yellowed and grayed, as though he'd suddenly aged a couple of years across the span of an instant... Still, as roughened up as he was, he'd recovered well enough to walk with a straight back and be hearty in his lack of a good mood, plunged right to the border of aggression by the prospect of this Ebonstryfe guard being unwilling to pay him on the spot.

''I mean what I said, vagik.'', the soldier dismissed, taking another reassuring look into the saddlebags Einar had given him. ''I have no idea what those are, and won't be paying you a copper for delivering them.''

Oh you fuckin' wish, mate. ''Now listen to me, you fuckin' snot sucker. Either you deliver that bloody pack to some higher officer so that they check it and give me the pay I was promised on delivery, or I swear by all the gods, I'll bind you over my shoulder and carry you back all the way to the northern outpost so you can explain to Samara Alenta why her delivery was denied. If I have to walk the way on foot, I will, so fuckin' help me.'', this was one of the times where Einar's temper was simply exhausted, and he was perfectly fine with settling for tearing this cocksucker's throat out over being cheated out of his pay again.

''You will hold your tongue, outsider!'', the soldier yelled, with his two nearby colleagues already lowering spears toward Einar for his outburst.

''Watch that I don't get to hold yours sooner.'', Einar made a point of emphasizing his grip on the poleaxe he held, along with his other hand sliding onto the handle of his belted dagger. He'd abandoned reason at this point.

The soldier simply stared, dumbfounded by this fool who would pick a fight with the Stryfers at the doorstep of the Vitrax itself... The trio were hardly intimidated, but they did take note of Samara's mentioned name, and this filthy outsider certainly didn't appear to be some passer-by idiot who thought he could cheat some coin out of the organization by faking an important delivery... The least that could be done was to check with the officers... Better than risking poor relations and delayed hazards within the organization if they did kill Einar and the delivery turned out to be genuine in the very least.

''...Hold.'', the leading soldier decided. ''I shall go see the commander. You stay here, vagik, and surrender your weapons if you value your life. If whatever this is you've brought is of value, you'll be payed and allowed to leave... I'll not sully this courtyard by squabbling with the likes of you.''

''Suits me just cockin' fine.'', Ein retorted. A moment later he tucked his poleaxe at one of the two guards who remained to watch over him, followed by surrendering Rastmo's crude blade and the rest of his daggers. Then they would wait.

Some fifteen rather dull chimes would pass before the first soldier had gotten back around to the courtyard. No longer did he carry Samara's saddlebags. Instead within his hand was a pouch from which the hum of coin could be heard over thirty paces away. And Einar needed to hide his smug smile the best he could, for the soldier arriving hardly appeared pleased by the prospect of being made a fool.

''Here is your coin, outsider.'', disdain was plentiful in the soldier's tone as he'd given the pouch over. Ein could tell the man was downright itching to shove a fist into his face... he'd really best be getting out of there quickly, as, with his own pent up anger having diminished, plain common sense reminded him of just how much he was not in shape for a brawl at the moment.

He received his weapons back and as he made way out of the courtyard the soldier's voice echoed after him.

''That vagik should watch his tongue in the house of Rhysol's chosen.''

As soon as he was out of sight, Einar snorted a laughing sigh of relief. He got horribly lucky back there. For a while he was almost certain he'll get naught short of a spear in the gut...

Ein would pay visit to a couple of shops in Ravok afterward, namely to handle a certain thing or two in regard to his trophy wolf. He had a mind to fashion a mantle or some such from the thing's hide, possibly sell off the meat to some butcher's place. Either way... soon he would have taken care of the small business and made his way to the nearest room for rent available, paying a decent staying fee and finally collapsing into a proper bed, without fear for any horrid monstrosity lurking him from shadow and treetop.

Bloody hell is a vagik supposed to be, anyway?


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Wolf and Hasty Delivery

Postby Ruvya on August 10th, 2018, 11:05 am

G R A D E
Observation +1
Riding: Horse +1
Horsemanship +1
Logic +1
Endurance +2
Unarmed Combat +1
Weapon: Poleaxe +2
Weapon: Dagger +2
Flux +1
Wilderness Survival +1
Medicine +1
Negotiation +1


Horses have a will of their own
Horsemanship: too heavy a load may break a horse's back
Endurance: trekking in full plate armour is exhausting
Unarmed Combat: blocking an attack with your forearm
Dagger: stabbing a foe
Wolf: a formiddable beast
Flux: enhancing one's strength with djed
Endurance: pushing through pain to survive
Medicine: Wash a wound with clean water
Medicine: Binding a shoulder wound
Negotiation: Delegating the decision to a higher rank
Ebonstryfe: Maleovent to outsiders


━ Belugnir will feel battered and bruised for 3 days after the wolf attack. He has sustained bruising and a bite wound to his shoulder, which will take 10 days to fully heal with proper care taken against infection. His armour has sustained moderate damage to the shoulder plate, which will require a smith to repair, as well as cosmetic scratches to the chest plate, which may be buffed out through general maintenance.
✚ Black wolf hide (poor quality)


If you feel I missed anything feel free to send a PM.
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