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| Hunting; (P) | |
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| Topic Started: Sun Sep 20, 2009 12:22 am (246 Views) | |
| Shuett | Sun Sep 20, 2009 12:22 am Post #1 |
 
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Shuett had been hunting this lizard for about two days now. It was big and would feed his tribe for a while. His tribe needed more food, and most of his village's hunters were sick with the fever. He kept walking, following the tracks. He started singing the song of the hunt in his native tongue. He made his way up a large dune with the aid of his spear, which he used as a walking stick. He shuddered slightly, this dune was high up, uncomfortably high. He jumped and slid down the opposite side of the dune, using his large paws like a sand sled. The sun was high and hot, but his fur kept him cool. He was getting bored. It was getting late in the day and there was no sign of this damned lizard. He searched the air for his friend Ashet and found him, the dark patch of fur absorbing the sun's light and allowing him to almost look directly into it. He focused and saw what the bird saw. There! about 30 miles away, close to the Oasis! Shuett released the bond and flipped his spear onto the holder on his back. He started running and then loping in a gracefully long stride. The sad was warm to his callused paws. He felt his tendons stretch and relax with each move. He felt the wind brush through his dredlocked beard. He loved this feeling, he felt so close to nature on his hunts. He pick up his pace as he neared a small rocky outcropping. He jumped into the air and cleared the small gully in a single bound. He felt alive. After a few minutes he reached the lizard. Shuett stood atop a small rocky out cropping. The lizard was feeding on a fallen gazelle, with it's back to him. He readied his spear and started stalking toward the creature, his feet padded by the sand. He felt himself begin to slide. He looked around him and saw the entire scree of the rock face falling toward him. There was a great crash as a half ton of rock crashed against the sand. The lizard whipped it's head around and charged the fallen hunter. He scrambled to his feet and also charged the beast. He jumped and the beast strafed to the left. The hunter's spear pierced the sand with a sharp sound. He pulled out the weapon and the two began to circle each other. The beast lunged and the hunter dodged. The hunter lunged and the lizard dodged. This went of for a few minutes, until the beast whipped it's tail toward the hunter's feet, which tripped him. The beast slashed the hunter's chest with it's claws. The hunter slammed his head into the creatures face and it recoiled. Just for a second, but the second was enough for the hunter to grab his spear and thrust it at the creatures belly. The spear missed the center of the belly, but still lodged itself in the creatures side. He pulled it out, the motions was followed by a sickening slurp of the spear being removed from the ribs of the lizard. The lizard screamed and bit down on Shuett's shoulder and ran away a few feet. Shuett was puzzled, this was a common lizard, why would it bite him. Then he saw it, a large orange stripe against the huge sand colored body. Damn! he thought. His eyes started to go black. This was no common lizard, this was its poisonous cousin. The reason it dropped back was to let the venom take effect. He swore again, this time out loud at the top of his voice. He grabbed his spear and put it across his chest, tip at his feet. In a quarter hour he would not be able to move. Another quarter hour, he would not be able to breath and his heart would stop. He had seen this happen many times before, but with the gazelles. He steadied himself, he would not weep for himself, he had no time for weeping. He would live as much of his life as he could, even if his broken ribs and hip would not allow him to move. |
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| Tazdril[Mod] | Thu Sep 24, 2009 5:52 am Post #2 |
 
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House Athlano; curse them. Tazdril Athlano ran through the desert. His feet burned, his legs ached, sweat poured from every pore of his body as legs flew, swiftly and purposefully, across the desert. A massive feline figure galloped alongside him, paws bringing up large clouds of dust as they impacted and sprayed the sand below them. The creature was blinded by the burning, but it didn't need its eyes to see. Using echolocation, it had its surroundings penned out like a flawlessly detailed map. The cat could almost count the surface grains in the endless ocean of sand as it tore ahead of its master, eager to hunt, and for nightfall. The dark elf traveled with purpose. He had a mission, and that was to escape his vengeful family. He had heard, through his usual grapevine, that nobility of House Athlano had discerned his position, and learned of his affiliation with the Shadow Society. As far as Tazdril knew, there were murderous agents sent by his ex-House everywhere, and he couldn't risk it to stop running. Every turn he made, he looked over his shoulder. Every move he made, he tried his best to cover his tracks. He was running from fate; he knew it. The dark elf was dressed as he had come accustomed to to escape the blinding, scorching sunlight. The white wrappings he wore did an excellent job of reflecting the irritating rays, and keeping his skin comfortable. His eyes were still in the process of adjusting to the sunlight, but the wrappings, and his black skin, did help keep the sun out of his eyes some. At least he didn't rely so much on infravision so much. The use of it on the surface was like setting fire to his eyeballs. What could be interpreted as a screech of pain resounded in Tazdril's black ears, and he suddenly stopped, straining his eyes to see in the darkness. It was only then when he realized how tired he was. While he ran, he had let himself slip into the rhythm of his footfalls. Now that the rhythm was gone, he felt exhausted. Straining his eyes, he caught the sight of a large, 4-legged creature and a smaller, more humanoid one engaged in battle. It seemed the larger of the two was at a significant advantage. Tazdril mounted his Umbra, as he didn't exactly desire to run all the way to the distant combatants. His genuine interest was what drove him, that and the fact that he could see water in that general direction. He ushered a silent prayer to some forgotten God, hoping the scene unfolding before him was not a mirage. Suddenly, he shouted out, and rolled off of his mount. Barrarisa charged. |
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| Will Fisher | Thu Sep 24, 2009 1:40 pm Post #3 |
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Shuett heard something coming from his left. He craned his neck to see what it was. His eyes widened. There was a very large cat barreling toward his body. He laughed. First an angry lizard, now an angry cat. Then he saw a figure all in white. This might be salvation, his only way back to the village; alive that is. His vision shifted back to the lizard, who apparently saw the cat charging. The lizard reared on it's hind legs and slammed back down on the burning sands. It then sped toward the charging cat, with equaling speed. Shuett took this as a chance to try to get up, and walk over to the white clad figure. He used his spear as a walking stick to try to get up, and fell. He heard his hip make an odd crunching noise then he felt it go numb for a second and then, fire. He cried out again from the sands. His ribs were broken too. So, he could use his right arm and left leg to crawl toward the figure. He stalled slightly. What if this was an intimation of death, what if he was seeing things, the white women, the harbingers of death. Or the leader of the black coyotes, Death's companions. They were kindly beings of myth, but he was afraid. He readied himself and stretched his right arm above his head, then dragged his body toward the direction the cat came from. Then, using his left leg, he pushed his body in the same direction. After a few minutes he was slightly closer to the figure. He was exhausted. Damn, he was going to die. His vision went to a tunnel, then a blur, then into super sharp focus. He reeled against the sands and shook his head. He hummed the song of the hunt, his final hunt. ((OOC: sorry, wrong account D:)) |
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| Tazdril[Mod] | Sat Sep 26, 2009 8:24 pm Post #4 |
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Tazdril approached the furry creature as his pet did battle with the reptilian horror. The wolfman was a tan color, except atop his head, where matted gray fur hung, from his head and from his chin, weaved with little knick-knacks, like bones and beads. From his looks, the dark elf guessed he wasn't overly civilized, but he had put up a decent fight with the deadly lizard, and seemed to embrace death happily, humming a tune beneath his breath. The elf snorted, and kicked the wounded creature lightly in the side. "If you want to live, you'll listen to me," he began, his voice a light hiss, his eyes like darts. He reached down, and snatched the spear from under the wolf, and without a word, extended the bladeless side of it to the wounded creature. "Here, I'll pull you up. I don't care what sort of condition your leg is in. You will stand here, and use the spear as a crutch if you must. If you can endure such a simple task, I might consider letting you survive this encounter. If not, I'll let you to the lizard." He turned his attention back to the monstrous green creature who jumped about, trying to stay defensive as Barrarisa lunged for it. Tazdril had experience with such creatures though. The Dark Lands were full of them. He knew that as soon as the monster had its chance, it would throw everything it had onto the hulking cat. With a quick glance back at Shuett, he turned his body completely, and sprinted for the lizard. |
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| Shuett | Sat Sep 26, 2009 8:47 pm Post #5 |
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Shuett ground his teeth as he stood, pulling on the spear for aid. He felt and heard his hip bone crunch, but this time he did not buckle. He kept his face solemn, he would not show a sign of weakness. He put all his weight on his right leg, letting his left hang limply on the sand. His vision went blurry, then to a tunnel, then back into focus. He dug his spear point into the sand with a grating noise. The drow's words were unkind and harsh. Shuett understood common, but often chose not to speak it. He watched as the man sprinted toward the umbra. Shuett took of his scarf and tied it around his hip, using a stray piece of gazelle rib to make a small tourniquet. His legs felt like jelly. His mouth was dry, his vision bad. His left arm twitched involuntarily. Shuett's breathing was ragged, at best. Yet he stood standing, watching the great, green monster face the Umbra, and the small white clad man sprint toward this spectacle. He thought for a moment. If I were to walk now I would make it halfway to the village and die. If I wait, and this drow is a bad fighter, then I will die. If he is as good of a fighter Shuett thought he was, then maybe, they would make it to the village before he died. Maybe. He wondered if he should even bring the drow to his village. Most people would try to kill off his family. But, this drow might be different. People feared Shuett, because he was different. People tend to dislike "different". He sighed, then took a deep breath, as deep of a breath he could muster. He managed a shallow one. He had about half an hour. He looked at the sky and saw Ashet. Shuett whistled, high and long. Ashet swooped down onto his shoulder. He gazed out over the sands to where the elf was running. He hoped that the elf would win this fight, or that his tribe would bring the sandboats and come looking for him. Hoping was a foolish thing. |
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5:52 PM May 23
