Post by crediblethreat on May 1, 2014 1:03:57 GMT -5
This is a work in progress, likely to change. Out of character information will be included, I appreciate responsible consumption.
The lean forester lay prone on the small hillock, lifting his chin. Stark, green deep-set eyes peered through the misty gloom, watching the massive form in the distance. Those eyes tracked the eighteen foot tall misshapen humanoid. Turiq's eyes narrowed as he watched the athach rip open the belly of a large deer with one massive, claw-like thumbnail. The grotesque beast jerked out the deer's entrails, gorging himself upon them with wet, slurping sounds.
The woodsman ducked back, rolling, silently onto his back. He took several deep, steeling breaths, one hand snaking out to tug a massive yew and bone bow to his chest. Holding the bow to the side, at arm's length, Turiq slipped an arrow into place against the taut bowstring. He inhaled deeply, holding the breath several long moments, his own heartbeat thumping in his ears. Slowly, he straightened his arm, arched his back forward then left fly the arrow in a high arc behind his head. Turiq waited a few seconds that seemed like an eternity. Finally, the loud, pulsing thump of the thunderstone-tipped arrow hitting the ground jolted the archer into motion.
Turiq sprang to his feet. As expected, the athach's back was to him, the massive beast's head jerking about as it tried to locate the source of the sudden thunderous sound. Three arrows ripped rapidly through the air, the last leaving the bowstring as the first thunked into the giant's back. A horrendous tormented scream ripped the air, the giant spinning, arms flailing wildly. With another bellow, the massive beast began to charge the archer.
Turiq whistled sharply, laying another arrow to string. The shot deflected harmlessly off the giant's knee, not slowing its charge, but as just as the lurching beast started up the slope, a massive wolf leapt at its back. The giant spun, flailing arm thudding against the wolf. The wolf rolled, springing again and pouncing to the side, its motion lessening the force of the swipe.
As the confused and enraged giant lurched, trying to engage the dancing wolf, Turiq calmly strode forward down the slope, toward the beast. One hand moved to his quiver, pulling forth a blackened, thick ironwood arrow. The heavy arrow was useless for long shots, but close in, deadly. Closing to almost within arm's length, Turiq whistled sharply again. The giant suddenly spun back toward him only to suddenly stagger and spasm as goosefeather blossomed in one eye. Turiq ducked and side-stepped as the giant swayed then slowly fell forward, head crashing to the ground, driving the stout, heavy arrow deeper. Turiq exhaled in relief, the dire wolf pouncing upon the giant's back, teeth ripping at its neck, making certain of the kill.
Instinctually, Turiq checked his quiver, frowning as only two of the black-fletched ironwood arrows remained amidst the others. A Jalantharran trick, the fire-hardened and lime-petrified ironwood arrow. Too heavy for all but the closest shot, they were ideally suited for Jalantharran tree sentries to fire downward from arboreal perches. Turiq winced, thinking, once again, about that fateful night that brought about his exile.
It was a warm autumn night and Turiq sat perched in an oak, watching one of the thin, winding passes that led into the hollow that hosted the village Jalanthar. He was fifteen, lean, handsome and tall for his age. It was only his third ever watch, his Arrow only granted months before. The sentry assignment he'd been given was usually reserved for more experienced men, but Turiq had proven to have unusually keen eyesight, even for Jalantharrans, nicknamed by the mountain tribes as 'Hawkmen'.
It promised to be a quiet night, the moon was bright and full, not a time given to orc or goblin incursions. A faint din touched his ears from the inn in the distance, townsfolk revelling in honor of recent fortunate hunts. A faint smile touched Turiq's lips, his mind summoning an image of a slender nubile dark-haired beauty, Miri Amblecrown. A girl a few years older with whom he'd recently shared glimpses. He shook his head, banishing the dreamy thought and set his attention back to his watch. Turiq blinked rapidly, his mind in upheaval as he thought himself imagining things as the slender image his mind had called appeared below him wearing a smile and little else. She crooked a finger. Without a moment's thought, Turiq hastily slipped to the ground and followed.
Exile. The word burned harshly in Turiq's mind. Jalantharran justice was harsh. It had to be. The town rested against the southern slopes of the Nether Mountains where huge tribes of orcs, ogres and worse roamed, frequently massing for brutal raids. Exiled. Cursed. Death was usual penalty for leaving one's watch in Jalanthar, but Turiq's youth had spared him that. The death of two children resulting from his dereliction, however, required stern action. Exile. Curse. He'd been taken before the Heirophant, questioned severely. He refused to reveal whom he'd left his watch with, the council met, the decision passed. Turiq was to be exiled and more. The heirophant uttered harsh words, laid his hands upon Turiq. "Vanity and lust has brought this upon you and this is the cost...." He'd spoken before fell energies pulsed through those hands. Turiq cringed, his handsome face scrunching in sudden pain, but it was only several days later, when staring at the unknown face, wracked with angry, flaking welts that he learned the full extent of the curse.
The lean forester lay prone on the small hillock, lifting his chin. Stark, green deep-set eyes peered through the misty gloom, watching the massive form in the distance. Those eyes tracked the eighteen foot tall misshapen humanoid. Turiq's eyes narrowed as he watched the athach rip open the belly of a large deer with one massive, claw-like thumbnail. The grotesque beast jerked out the deer's entrails, gorging himself upon them with wet, slurping sounds.
The woodsman ducked back, rolling, silently onto his back. He took several deep, steeling breaths, one hand snaking out to tug a massive yew and bone bow to his chest. Holding the bow to the side, at arm's length, Turiq slipped an arrow into place against the taut bowstring. He inhaled deeply, holding the breath several long moments, his own heartbeat thumping in his ears. Slowly, he straightened his arm, arched his back forward then left fly the arrow in a high arc behind his head. Turiq waited a few seconds that seemed like an eternity. Finally, the loud, pulsing thump of the thunderstone-tipped arrow hitting the ground jolted the archer into motion.
Turiq sprang to his feet. As expected, the athach's back was to him, the massive beast's head jerking about as it tried to locate the source of the sudden thunderous sound. Three arrows ripped rapidly through the air, the last leaving the bowstring as the first thunked into the giant's back. A horrendous tormented scream ripped the air, the giant spinning, arms flailing wildly. With another bellow, the massive beast began to charge the archer.
Turiq whistled sharply, laying another arrow to string. The shot deflected harmlessly off the giant's knee, not slowing its charge, but as just as the lurching beast started up the slope, a massive wolf leapt at its back. The giant spun, flailing arm thudding against the wolf. The wolf rolled, springing again and pouncing to the side, its motion lessening the force of the swipe.
As the confused and enraged giant lurched, trying to engage the dancing wolf, Turiq calmly strode forward down the slope, toward the beast. One hand moved to his quiver, pulling forth a blackened, thick ironwood arrow. The heavy arrow was useless for long shots, but close in, deadly. Closing to almost within arm's length, Turiq whistled sharply again. The giant suddenly spun back toward him only to suddenly stagger and spasm as goosefeather blossomed in one eye. Turiq ducked and side-stepped as the giant swayed then slowly fell forward, head crashing to the ground, driving the stout, heavy arrow deeper. Turiq exhaled in relief, the dire wolf pouncing upon the giant's back, teeth ripping at its neck, making certain of the kill.
Instinctually, Turiq checked his quiver, frowning as only two of the black-fletched ironwood arrows remained amidst the others. A Jalantharran trick, the fire-hardened and lime-petrified ironwood arrow. Too heavy for all but the closest shot, they were ideally suited for Jalantharran tree sentries to fire downward from arboreal perches. Turiq winced, thinking, once again, about that fateful night that brought about his exile.
It was a warm autumn night and Turiq sat perched in an oak, watching one of the thin, winding passes that led into the hollow that hosted the village Jalanthar. He was fifteen, lean, handsome and tall for his age. It was only his third ever watch, his Arrow only granted months before. The sentry assignment he'd been given was usually reserved for more experienced men, but Turiq had proven to have unusually keen eyesight, even for Jalantharrans, nicknamed by the mountain tribes as 'Hawkmen'.
It promised to be a quiet night, the moon was bright and full, not a time given to orc or goblin incursions. A faint din touched his ears from the inn in the distance, townsfolk revelling in honor of recent fortunate hunts. A faint smile touched Turiq's lips, his mind summoning an image of a slender nubile dark-haired beauty, Miri Amblecrown. A girl a few years older with whom he'd recently shared glimpses. He shook his head, banishing the dreamy thought and set his attention back to his watch. Turiq blinked rapidly, his mind in upheaval as he thought himself imagining things as the slender image his mind had called appeared below him wearing a smile and little else. She crooked a finger. Without a moment's thought, Turiq hastily slipped to the ground and followed.
Exile. The word burned harshly in Turiq's mind. Jalantharran justice was harsh. It had to be. The town rested against the southern slopes of the Nether Mountains where huge tribes of orcs, ogres and worse roamed, frequently massing for brutal raids. Exiled. Cursed. Death was usual penalty for leaving one's watch in Jalanthar, but Turiq's youth had spared him that. The death of two children resulting from his dereliction, however, required stern action. Exile. Curse. He'd been taken before the Heirophant, questioned severely. He refused to reveal whom he'd left his watch with, the council met, the decision passed. Turiq was to be exiled and more. The heirophant uttered harsh words, laid his hands upon Turiq. "Vanity and lust has brought this upon you and this is the cost...." He'd spoken before fell energies pulsed through those hands. Turiq cringed, his handsome face scrunching in sudden pain, but it was only several days later, when staring at the unknown face, wracked with angry, flaking welts that he learned the full extent of the curse.