Into the Wild

~~The forest was as quiet as a forest could be, the sounds of animals and insects breaking the stillness as the light breeze drifted through the darkened canopy of leaves. Within the forest realm of F'tallian there was a deeper kind of darkness, something almost sinister in the rustle of the brush. The shadows were deeper, and every few moments a gleaming pair of eyes would peer from the shadows in search of some prey.

One such shadow detached gently from the background, a chameleon-like blur against the backdrop. Gil knelt lightly, fingertips lightly tracing the faint outline of a bootprint, made by someone much smaller than himself or his companions. Looking around, he saw the other traces of passage: lightly broken branch, a stone displaced so that the soil-damp side was showing. Subtle hints, but to eyes trained, they were clear enough.

The journey had been long, and despite their combined skills, finding signs of the life they were seeking had been difficult. Already they had begun to adjust to these woods, their ability to adapt to their environ making them one with the wilderness they now stalked.

They were the predators in the woods now.

Gil's sharp eyes followed the other hints, noting that the movements had been made by a small group, maybe half a dozen figures. They had moved fearlessly, though they knew the woods. Still, in such a group, it's hard to not make mistakes.

Raising one hand, Gil gestured. The three of them had worked out a series of hand signals for silent communication, and had not spoken a word since they reached the wood. The motions were an amalgamation of the Hunter's code and the slightly more complex ones used by the Nexan Border Legion. The three of them were familiar with both to some extent, and so it had been easy.

Using these signals, Giligian quickly informed his companions of the approximate number and direction of the prints, as well as ough age. They were s a day and a ha behind at most.

Despite his large frame, he stepped into the dappled shaows, the paints and dyes on his face blending with the surroundings, the patterned cloak seeming to make him disappear against the scenery as he awaited his companions' responses~~

~Ral stands in the shadows, hands ready on blades as he watches Gil move from his concealment and kneel. He had obviously found something. His eyes catch the hand gestures and raises his own hands to signal acknowledgment. Gliding through the trees and brush in ghost-like silence, he moves parallel to Gil in order to take a look at the tracks himself. He nodded lightly to himself, seeing the tell-tale signs of group movement. Looking around, he noted that there was no clear trail; merely this area had been clear, and perhaps damp with rain.

That meant their new quarry was comfortable in the woods. Natives, then. Smaller sized as well, judging by the size and depth of the track. So, F'tallian elves. Good. That meant that, at the very least, they were near an outpost. He signals to Gil and Verran, in brief, his judgments: 'Elves, scout patrol. We could catch them. Outpost likely near.'~

~ from his vantage in the trees Verran watches the two men below, his form blending with the leaves thanks to his cloak and camoflaged clothing. He watches them as they asses the trail, watching the signals below and nodding slightly. He scans the horizon, the smoke in the air clearly visible, the patrol's camp clearly marked by its fires.

As Ral signals elves a soft growl leaves Verran's throat. His hatred of the pointed eared bastards was nearly as legendary as Catona's ability to stand in one place.~

SIGNAL: " Smoke ahead. We can reach it by night if we don't stop, catch them in their beds."

~Ral looks at Verran and nods, turning aand relaying the signal to Gil: 'Patrol camp ahead. Fires visible. They are too relaxed in their homes. We catch them in their beds.'

He turns back to verran and nods, signaling for him to lead the way or provide direction.~

~~Gil nods, allowing himself to fade back into the scenery. Faintly, he caught traces of the woodsmoke through the trees now, and nodded, envious of the Hunter's sense. He gestures in the direction of the camp, looking to Verran for confirmation of the direction.

Inwardly, he closed a part of himself off. He remembered raiding bandit camps as a boy of 14, the methodical work of the Border Legionnaires as they turned sleeping men to corpses. The first time he had been fearful, nervous. The doxenth time, he'd been just as methodical.

He felt that now, rising up in him, a detached kind of recognition. It was the enemy, or them. And he'd be damned if it would be them.~~

~ Verran nods and darts off through the close branches like he was born to the forests. While he despised elves in general, his own time among them as a child had lent him a way in the forest few could match, and his time hunting along in the wilds of the Auroran forests had made him a master of the terrain with no equal. His nose burned from the smell of the smoke from the enemy camp, they used too much green wood, too much smoke...they had no fear of being found and would not be ready for the death that approached them in the gloom of the woods.

His trail takes him toward the North East, the distance passing easily as they slipp through the trees, below him, only slightly slowwer moved Gil. The man was impressive for a human, even more so for a Nexan more used to mountains and the borders of the Lost Realm. He smiles slightly as Ralean follows as silently as himself, rememberring the hellish racket that the man made when they first met so many years ago.

As the sun drops over the horizon they near the camp, the sounds of the men within the ring of fire light come to his ears easily despite being more than a hundred yards out, their elven dialect unfamilliar but the easyness of their conversation seems to indicate that they have worked this patrol for some time, and that they had absolutely no fear of being disturbed or discoverred.

He signals the halt to the men below, dropping down from the tree easily and silently among the pair of humans~

"They are up ahead, we strike before the camp goes dark. The elves and I do not need light to kill by, but I can not say the same for you two."

~~Gil's eyes flash with red nightshine in the fading light, belying a heritage that was little known. He nods coldly, signaling that he understood before slipping a long-bladed hunting knife into his hand. He pulls the hood of his cloak down over his head, fading into the scenery.

He signals: 'Are there sentries?'~~

~Ralean looks hard at Verran and nods once, pulling the Shadow Dagger from his belt with a small movement. "Then let us not keep them waiting."~

~ Verran nods, unslinging the silver bow from hsi shoulder he moves forward, an arrow nocked and ready. As they approach the clearing the sounds of talkign are clearly audible to the other two men. The elves have made a rough ring of stone for their fire. The campsite is one that has been used regularly, as there are actual tents rather than the hasty beds typical of a patrol in unfamilliar territory.

A totla of six elves are present, four of them sit around the fire, talking lightly of trivial matters, a second tending to their horses at the far end of the fire, and the last with his back to the flames, standing only a few feet from Gil's position, looking into the gloom of the forest.

Verran stops, waiting for the others to get in place and aiming his shot for the far scouts back, his shot waiting for the signal from Ralean for the attack.~

(( There should be a Narrator to make the NPC moves on this one for clarity's sake. I will check into it, though if we do this right they will never get a shot off.))

~Ral surveys the camp quickly, eyes noting the arrangements of all the players, the adrenaline coursing through his body in a cold rush that brought him so firmly into reality that he felt he could see evey movement; their lips forming the smooth elven dialect, the dance of the flames. He turned to Gil, signalling he should take the man closest to him. He knew Verran had the distant targets marked; they had worked so well, for so long, that their fighting in this environment was near second nature.

Ral moves himself slow and quiet into a place at an angle from the others, so that when the attack came, it came from three directions at once. He also put himself closer to the men around the fire, standing outside the firelight.

With a self-affirming nod, he inhales and lifts a hand, signaling Verran to the attack as he tenses his body for what is to come.~

~~One hand slips from the shadows below the lone sentry's line of sight, clamping around his mouth and nose to choke off any sounds of warning as he pulls the body tight against his to minimize the thrashing, the long hunting knife slipping a razor edge against the pale throat of the surprised elven man, sawing nearly to the bone with a single stroke.

Ignoring the warm rush of blood, Giligian spins the dagger deftly in his hand, still holding the weakly spasming body up, and throws it hard for the unprotected back of the man tending the horses.~~

~ As Gil's dagger flies, taking the far sentyr in the back Verran draws and looses his first arrow, the shaft taking the elf furthest from Ralean Cleaninly in the throat, the second arrow, fired within seconds of the first streaks across the massive bonfire, landing squarely in the eye socket of the second elf even as the remaining two leap to thieir feet, the confusion of the attack evident on their faces as they scan the forest for their attackers.

From the bushes, moving across the camp is a large form, low to the ground, its bulky form headed toward the remaining elves.~

=As the two remaining elves react, Ral cuts the air with the shadow dagger, stepping into the darker-than-dark gash before him. It reopens in between the two remaining elves, who, while scanning the forest, would have their backs to the fire. Stepping out, Ralean slams the dark blade into the back of one of the elves, giving it a sharp twist to tear at heart and lungs, pulling the body around and shoving the dying man into his companion as he turns to the threat at his back, tumbling man and corpse to the ground as he draws his family blade and faces the threat, a faint white light along the edge of the blade as he starts towards the last man~

~~Letting the body fall from his grasp, Gil wastes no time moving towards the camp as Verran's arrows fly, a long knife and a hand ax finding their way to his grasp from their places in his gear. As the hole in the air tears open, he instinctively moves to the side, noting in some amount of confusion that it was Ralean who stepped from the portal.

As Ral stabbed the one elf and threw him into the other, Gil reached his side in a few short strides. As the last elf began to come to his feet, pushing off his dead companion and reaching for a weapon, Gil kicked at the fire, sending a spray of hot coals, embers, and burning wood into the rising man's face. ~~

ELF SENTRY: ~ As Ralean shoves the dead guard forward, the remining one stumbles hanrd under the weight, falling to the ground under his fallen comrade. With a curse he shoves the corpse aside, reaching for his dagger even as he tries to rise to his feet. Out of the corner of his eye he catches Gil's movement, turning just in time to get a spray of hot ash and sparks in his eyes for his trouble. Screaming in pain as the embers burn his face, his hands going to his eyes, his weapon forgotten in the moment.!

TANK: ~ From the forest a low growl is heard a shape the size of a large dog charges out of the woodline. With a snarl the beast grabs the wounded elf by the left leg, just above the knee, the sickening crunch of bone and rippng of flesh audible over the screams of the poor dying elf. With its grizzly prize in its jaws, Verran's companion moves off to the side, chewing contentedly.~

~Ral steps forward as Tank dismembers the remaining elf. Stomping hard on the hand clutching towards the dagger, Ral feels the reassuring crunch of snapping bones. He grinds his boot onto the hand as the elf screams again. Kneeling with weight pinning the wounded man he clamps one strong hand over the struggling man's mouth. Without looking backwards, he speaks to Gil.

"Tourniquet his leg, I don't want him to bleed to death. At least not yet."

Replacing his blade in it's scabbard, he brushes the ashes from the man's eyes so that they can lock gazes.

"Can you understand me?" the elf nods, a steel resolve coming into his eyes behind the pain. Ral offers his best predatory smile, leaning in very close, his voice a soft, ironically soothing tenor.

"Good. We are going to talk, you and I. If your answers please me, I will kill you quickly. Lie to me, or refuse to answer, and I will leave you to my less reputable companion. He has a rather harsh distaste for your kind, elf, and I would so hate to deprive him of his sport. And you will be a long time in dying with him, I promise you."

Without removing his gaze from his prisoner, Ral waits a moment as Gil sees to the injury, holding the elf as he writhes and screams at Gil's ministrations. As the elf struggles to remain conscious through the pain, Ral does a quick search, removing all weapons from the figure and tossing them well out of reach. Glancing over, Ralean spots a haphazardly dropped canteen, and picks it up. Shaking and taking a small sniff, he nods, satisfied and pours some of the water into his mouth.

"I am going to take my hand off of your mouth. When I do so, you are going to tell me how far it is to the city, and in which direction. You will also tell me the nature of the patrols and sentries thereof." he tightens his grip on the elf's jaw, lifting his head off the ground so their eyes are close, and his voice drops menacingly low. "And for your sake, understand that I know the answers to enough of these questions that lying is not in your favor. Lie to me, and our deal is over."

He opens his hand, letting the elf's head drop back to the ground. For a moment the elf struggles for words through the pain, and inhales deeply, spitting into Ralean's face before letting loose a stream of what could only be elven curses, his face twisted in hatred. Ral's expression never changes, his right hand clamping around the elf's slender throat while the other wipes the bloody saliva from his face. He slams the elf hard to the ground by the throat, knocking the wind from him.

"You were warned. No second chances." He stands, looking down dispassionately at the pale, feeble figure and turns his head to Verran. "Hunter, he is yours."

He turns away catching Gil's gaze and nodding towards the tied horses. "Search their animals. Loot the dead for anything we may need. We leave the bodies for the wolves."~

~~Gil sees the large badger amble into the camp and maim the poor elf, something like shock registering in him. He was unaware of the dynamic of these two men who seemed so at home together, hunting. He was also unaware that Ralean could make portals. He was learning a lot today.

Starting ovr when Ral calls, he pulls the belt off of a dead elf, tying a primitive tourniquet. Wrapping his hand in a blood-sodden cloak, he grabs a smouldering brand, grimacing in distaste as he shoves the hottest end against the mangled stump, leaning his weight with Ralean's against the thrashing figure. Done with that, he stands, spitting and taking a step away. As Ralean speaks, Gil shakes his head. He'd never had the stomach for interrogation. He was a warrior, for shit's sake: not a killer. At a point when it was between him and them, he chose self-preservation. He had killed sleeping men, because a sleeping man can't put a knife in your ribs. He had taken lives in battle, and from ambush, and had killed them as they relieved themselves, or pleasured themselves, or drank.

There was something about Ralean's tone though, and the cold efficiency with which he had moved, that Gilgian had never seen before. It was like he was remembering a coldness he had never warmed from. Gil found it frightening, in a sense. These men were not warriors. They were predators, killers. He shook his head, turning away and moving to retrieve his dagger from the back of the elf near the horses, the animals tense and spooked from the scent of so much blood. He wiped his dagger off on the man's clothing and replaced it. He examined the man's weapons but found them inferior to his Nexan-forged steel.

Hearing a string of curses in a foreign language, he turns in time to see Ralean choke slam the already doomed elf back to the ground, and hears the words he utters. He looks across the the vaguely visible form of Verran, and winces. For what little time he'd know the man, he was NOT one to be crossed, and his enmity for elves seemed nearly obsessive. He almost pitied the poor soul.

As Ral catches his eyes and speaks, Gil nods, the old habit of following orders overriding his impression that these two men were functioning at a different, more primal level now. He turned to his task, checking the bodies for maps and rations. He had the campaigner's habit of ignoring the personal things: half-finished letters in a flowing script. A lock of dark hair tied with a red ribbon tucked into a pouch. Coins were left in the purses, rings were left on fingers, amulets around necks. He retrieved Verran's arrows and set them aside.

He then turned to the horses, taking time to calm the animals, giving them feed and drink to alleviate their tension before removing the saddlebags and other baggage, bringing them across the camp and beginning to go through them.~~

~ The spark in the Hunter's eyes is one of cold hatred as he steps over the crippled elf. Without a word he grabs the poor wretch by the throat, slamming him against a tree, the elf's one good leg hanging four inches above the forest floor. He draws a dagger with his free hand, placing the point under the elf's chin. Speaking in perfect elven, the language taught to him first by his mother, and mastered over time from his victims, he addresses the prisoner.~

" The Human offers you life dog, life as a cripple and easy prey for the wolves when we leave here. I will offer you the release of death for your answers, far cleaner than being prey for the forest. The question you must decide, and do so quickly, is whether that death will come swift, or if I will be forced to skin you alive like a carcass before I end your existence."

~ he drags the dagger over the elf's cheek, opening the skin easily, his tone as flat as if he were discussing the weather. Panicking, the elf begins to speak rapidly in elven, his voice breaking as he answers the questions Ralean had put to him earlier, detailing the patrol routes and watches of the city. As he finishes his report the elf looks to Ralean.~

ELF SENTRY: " Please, grant me a clean death...do not leave me for the animals like this..." ~ his eyes move to where tank gnaws on his severed leg.~

~~Gil glances up from his task to watch Verran speaking to the elf, and winces a little at the cold tone and display of violence, though he doesn't understand the words. This was not the fight he was used to fighting.

Looking down at the rummaged bags, he nods. From looking at the number of men and the amount of rations, he had a good idea of how far out they were from their destination. He had found a map, in elven, on one of the bodies, but it was stained with blood and hard to read, ven after cleaning though it seemed that he could find where they were from landmarks and where they were going from there. He had also gathered their arrows and a few bows. They were of suprb craftsmanship, but small and light of draw, with smaller arrows than the bows the three of them carried. the rest of the weapons were light, and small, made for fighting in the woods. They were of decent quality, but not nearly as excellent as what each man already carried. These he dismissed, repacking their rations into the fewest number of saddle bags, and rolling the bloodstained map he stood, heading to stand next to Ralean.

"We're not too far out from our location, according to the rations the have left. I have a map, but it's a bit hard to decipher, and I don't read elvish so I can only assume landmarks visually. Besides that, the usual weapons and camp gear. Not much use to us. The horses are a risk; if we let them go, any the wolves don't get will head back to home, and act as a warning." he glances up uneasily at Verran. "I think we can get there in a week of fast travel, if I'm right."~~

~Ralean looks to Gil and nods, taking the bloody map and staring at it for a long moment before he nods to himself. Reaching down, he pulls Verran's arrows up and walks to the Hunter, his eyes never leaving the elf. He places the arrows in the quiver hanging from Verran, speaking in a soft, cold tone.

"We have a map." His tone is pointed as he turns away. As he walks by Gil, he doesn't meet his eyes. "Kill the horses. We need to move."~

~ He nods as Ralean speaks, his hand twisting hard under the elf's chin, the sound of the bones snapping heard among the crackle from the fire. He turns from the corpse and looks to Ralean~

We stay off the roads, and Gil is right, the horses have to die. The fire needs to be extinguished as well, it would draw too much attention if left for too long and allowed to go to embers.

As for the bodies, strip them of the clothing and bury it further among the trees. It will call the animals faster if the scent is clearer to them.

~ Even as he speaks he begins stripping the dead elf of his armor and gear, piling it in a heap before moving to the next task.~

~~Gil nods, tossing the last of the equipment into the piles he had already made. He made his way to the horses, soothing the animals with quiet words as he lead them off the trail one at a time, slitting their throats. Each horse was lead in a different direction, so the blood would not spook them.

This done, he rejoined the others as the last of the elves' gear was piled together. He hoisted a body over each shoulder, ignoring the stiffening of their limbs and the smell of blood. it was distasteful, but necessary. He took the naked forms further into the woods and rested them away from each other as he had the horses. He took his time to make incisions in the gut, so that the smell would attract the animals faster, and therefore remove the evidence for him.

Coming back, he wiped the sweat from his face, noting that the equipment had been removed by then as well, and the other 3 bodies. He took a deep breath, sighing, and went about extinguishing and covering the fire. Soon enough, it looked as if the clearing had never been occupied by the group of elves~~

~Ralean stepped back into the clearing, nodding at the efficiency with which the patrol of elves had disappeared. They had removed the bodies, and the horses, and all signs of life from the area, even turning over the earth where the blood had pooled.

He looked at Gil hard, his eyes measuring the man's resolve. He was an asset in the woods, and in battle, but in this type of fighting? He had never hunted with Verran. He was not a killer. And maybe he'd grown soft in his time in the castle, though he had accounted well for himself against the patrol. Still, could Giligian do what needed to be done? Ral hoped so.

He looked again at the map, recognizing some of where they'd been, and getting general sense of direction from it. He turns, offering the map to verran. "We can't be terribly far from our destination."~

~ Verran looks at the map briefly, nodding, he turns toward the forest. As he moves toward the woods he signals the direction of the city to the others, already going back into silent travel mode, the massive badger waddles through the camp as fades into the woods behind him as Verran disappears into the gloom.~

ML Ralean: "Your brother has done well on the hunt so far, though I fear that his stomach sours with our methods. I hope for his sake that the honor of the Border Guard does not force him to act in a manner that interferes with this hunt. It would be a shame for us to fail, even more so if the Baron learns he is the cause."

// The Dracolich came from no where, not making a sound as he glided in the sky. His wingspan was outstretched caused a dark shadow. His body of bones, his rib-cage and claws could be seen against the moonlight. The undead dragon possessed bright red eyes which flashed against the night as he throws his head back to release an almighty roar that would hit the average person with terror. He did not seem to notice the party below him, but he did see the camp fire that the elves had left behind.His eyes narrowed and he swooped down closer for inspection. A deserted fire pit was all that remained, not an unusual sight. //