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Post by arython on Jun 10, 2014 13:44:11 GMT -5
Arython topped the ridge over Whitby with a tired expression on his face and saw the hansome valley stretched out before him. It wasn't a deep valley, the hills were just high enough to be called hills and to far apart to effect the town. The two hills formed a horseshoe and at the place where they joined stood a strong castle built of granit from the local quarry. Below the castle the fanned out to he south and east, with a lake at the tip of the southern spur ofthe hill. The little columns of smoke from chimneys painted a handsome picture. Arython mad his way down to the town and stopped by the butcher. Going to his packmule he unlashed a deer he had taken from a poacher and threw it over his shoulder. It was already gutted and bled out so he was in no danger of becoming a mess. He took the deer inside and lay it on the counter. As the butcher finished with one customer he waved to Arython and made his way over to the other side of the counter to examine the deer. He was a stout redheaded man, with a full beard and a chuckle like summer thunder. He was about half a head taller than Arython and had massive arms and thighs like oak stumps. The butcher looked up "more poachers Ranger Arython? This dont look to be your work..." the butchers eye was keen. The arrow he the deer had been shot with was broadheaded but blunt. It had pierced the sin but broken a rib clean off and punctured its lung, a slow painful death. "Dont worry overmuch, while he was runnin away he stepped in his own beartrap, so when his leg heals up the magistrates ordered him to turn big rocks into little ones." Arythons closed expression melted away as he spoke and eventually he was just Arython, the boyhood friend of Hamdon the butcher. Hamdon had been a ward of Baron Arald aswell, the baron of Whitby wrote Baron Arald for a ward and Hamdon was chosen. "Oh I've missed being home... Hows the missus, Ham?" Hamdon had married not long after he had taken over the butchery from his master, he was about twenty at the time. A tall girl of seventeen, golden headed and smart with a coin. She was fair enough to look at and had the heart of ten mothers, even though she was still childless... "Weve been married some time now and she worried shell never have a baby... i keep telling her to give it time but she still badgers me day and night..." there was a gleem in his eye that said he wasnt at all perturbed at his wifes pesturing... "Well ham, i need this skinned and prepped and sent to my cabin, give the skin to the tanners boy, last i heard he was in need of a doe skin." He laid out the cost of the butchering and an extra few coins, "For carla..." Hams wife was always wanting new cloth or something, maybe that would help her ease up on Ham... Back out on the street Arython had resumed his scowel and glare, like all rangers he remained aloof from the general citizens. After dropping off reports for the baron and sealed missives for the corps Commandante, he left for his cabin. At the west side of the lake, far enough from town to be out of quick walking distance but close enough for ease of access lay his Corps assigned cabin. At the edge of a bouding forest and a hundred yards or so from the lake, the cabin was serene. It was a little larger than most Corps cabins, having four bedrooms and a partial attic. The patio wrapped halfway around the cabin and had a set of stone stairs leading down to the lake. On the patio in a hammock, sleeping, was Gilan. He was temporarily assigned to this fief while Aython was away. From across a small spur in the lake Arython nocked an arrow and let loose. The arrow slammed into a post near Gilan, startling him awake. Arython froze, his cowel raised and cloak obscuring him in the forest. Gilan Sprung from the hammock, rolled while nocking an arrow and began a sweeping arc, arrow to cheek. After a few moments Rocous laughter spilled from the bush where Arython was hiding and he tumbled foreward on his hands and knees. After a few moments he got himself up and continued on for another ten minutes or so, to his cabin. When he arrived the Hammock was stowed in its chest and Arython could smell a lovely stew cooking. Onion, garlic, potato, carrot, celery, and a hearty thick beefy smell wafted down to him. Home... Arython first took care of rowendal, removing her harnes and rubbing her down. He gave her a bucket of oats and a little hay, made sure her water was full and clean and went inside. Gilan was at the table, kneeding dough and looking not at all as if he had been roused from a deep slumber... "Hello Gilan, did you miss me?"
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Post by Brandwyn on Jun 13, 2014 18:04:02 GMT -5
Tory was out of arrows but they were useless now anyway. Pressed in from all sides, the men tried to pull her from Chocolate Chip's back while she jabbed at them with the tip of her bow and slashed with her saxe knife. There were too many of them and she knew it. Chip screamed as another blade slashed his skin across his rump. He lashed out with his hooves, striking at the hoard of men churning about him.
Tory brought her saxe knife down into the throat of one that had gripped her around the waist and nearly pulled her off her ranger horse. The man made a horrible gurgling sound and slumped to the ground but two more jumped in to take his place.
'We have to get out of here!' Tory looked around wildly for an opening. There had to be at least 20 men scrabbling to get their hands on her or kill her outright. She kicked one man in the face and for a split second there was an opening! Chip saw it too and lunged through it just as a Grizzly jumped in to close him off. Tory jabbed the end of her bow through his face visor and into his eye. He howled in pain and bent over clutching at his ruined eye as Chip mowed into him. The bow got caught in the man's helm and it snapped under the force of Chip's charge.
Tory flung the ruined bow at an attacker a few paces in front of them and it bounced off the man's chest armor, but he flinched just enough to let Chip through. Tory thought she was free and leaned low over Chip's withers to urge him to run. Too late she saw the flash of steel and felt the longsword bite into her side right above her hip.
She clamped her teeth together so she wouldn't scream and gripped the saddlehorn to keep from falling as Chip accelerated, dodging through the trees. They had cleared the pack of mercenaries by some miracle. She urged him to run like the wind toward the center of Whitby fief and help.
They could hear the men pursueing on foot, calling to eachother, following the trail of blood from the deep wound in Tory's side and drops from several other cuts on both Tory and Chip. Chip pressed on until he could not run any longer. He slowed to a trot and then a walk, then he began to limp.
Tory had been concentrating on not passing out and staying on Chip's back through the wild flight. She looked around as he slowed to get her bearings. The sun had set long ago and Chip had continued running through the night. Now it was coming up in the east. Faint traces of lighter blue eventually gave way to strands of pink in the forming storm clouds above. She didn't hear any sounds of pursuit behind her and they were approaching a small stream. She eased Chip toward it and he drank eagerly as she slid off his back.
Her legs collapsed as her feet hit the ground and she toppled into the cold water. It quickly turned bloody and she knew she was going to die if she couldn't stop the bleeding. It might be too late already. The shallow cold water was good though. slowing the blood flow slightly. She reached into her satchel at her side and sorted through small bundles of dried herbs. Her fingers were shaking but she managed to untie the ones she was seeking and popped them into her mouth and started chewing. They tasted horrible, but immediately helped clear her head. She spit them out into her hand and pushed them into the open sword wound. The cut was deep, but she couldn't tell how bad it was in the dim light. The compress should help the blood to clot long enough to get to help.
Another foray into her satchel and soon she was wrapping a bandage around her waist, already the herbs were easing the pain. She quickly bandaged two other rather deep knife slashes on her left forearm and her right shin just above the top of her boot. That one had hit bone, but since the bone was so close to the surface in that spot it really hadn't done much but cut the skin and bleed profusely. Then she turned her attention to Chip after she struggled back to her feet.
Her white and brown leapord spotted ranger horse stood with his nose barely above the water, breathing heavily. He had several cuts but none of them looked life threatening. Tory tended to each one in turn, doing the worst one on his right shoulder first. When she was done she chewed another herb from her pack and swallowed it and then put some in a handful of grain and gave it to Chip. The herb was a stimulant and would help them both keep going, for she knew her pursuers hadn't given up. She refilled her water skins and then tugged on Chip's reins leading him out the other side of the stream, making sure they left muddy tracks behind.
They were northwest of the Whitby Castle, Tory was fairly certain. She figured by the end of the day she should reach it if she kept to a modest pace. She led Chip through the wild undergrowth,limping heavily, and up a hill into the rocks toward the east. Once she got on rocky ground she switched back to the southwest and began the task of concealing her trail. She didn't waste much time or effort on hiding it though, she knew time was against her and getting to the castle or the ranger cabin was more important. She had enough lead and if she just kept going they shouldn't be able to catch her again.
She and Chip stumbled on throughout the day, doggedly fixed on their goal. Sometimes she walked, sometimes she rode Chip and urged him into his trot. He was tired, but she knew if he stopped moving now, he would stiffen up and go lame. Eventually he stopped limping on the injured shoulder and soon he even perked up a bit as if he smelled something. He ignored her signals to turn southeast once more and kept heading toward the south. Tory was in no shape to argue. The wound wouldn't seal and she had lost a lot of blood. She could feel herself slipping into darkness.
"Find help, Chip," she whispered, riding him once more. She closed her eyes, leaning forward and resting her head on his neck. She had tied herself to the saddle so she wouldn't slip out about two hours earlier, knowing she wasn't going to be able to walk anymore because she didn't have the strength to climb back on. If she fell off, it would be all over. The men that likely followed would find her and kill her, after they'd had their fun with her. She had to stay in the saddle.
She felt Chip pick up his gait into a trot again as he moved downhill toward the lake. He let out a whinny, one he only used around other ranger horses that he knew. Tory managed to look up and see Chip was heading for a cabin. She felt releif, 'help at last,' she thought and then the darkness engulfed her and she passed out.
Chip whinnied again and made a beeline straight for Gilan's horse stabled behind the cabin. When he got there he whinnied again and waited for the door to the cabin to open, pawing the ground with one front hoof. Tory was limp on his back, held in place only by the loops of climbing rope she'd wound around her waist and legs and the saddle.
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Post by arython on Jun 19, 2014 23:36:29 GMT -5
The stew sat fine on Arython's stomach and seemed to fill out all his nooks and crannies. All the windows where open and the door flung wide in the late spring heat. Arython and Gilan sprawled gasping on the porch, having sweated the last twenty minutes away sparing hand to hand and with dulled training knives. Arython had made progress with Gilan's hand switching technique and Gilan had pointed out several different flaws in his grappling posture. After a few minutes Arython got up and stripped to his underclothes and dove into the lakes cool blue waters. He scrubbed himself down with the fine beach sand to remove the dirt and sweat and used the slime from underneath a water lily to scrub himself down. When he was done with his bath he burned his traveling clothes which were tattered and needed replacing. He donned his ranger's greys, gathered supplies for Gilan's departure and the two of them stood on the porch. Neither wanted to say goodbye, but Gilan was only on loan from another fief and was need back home. "Well then, Ranger Gilan, do be careful. I don't have time to traipse all over Araluan to find you should you lose your way..." Arython waved his hands in a couple of directions to indicate that Gilan could end up practically anywhere. Gilan scratched his head and laughed, "I'll do just that, if you'll promise to quit signaling your opponent every time you lunge..." as he finished he began walking down the stairs, pausing and looking towards blaze. The ranger horses were trained to signal their riders when a person was approaching and Blaze could pick out the scent of a man half a mile upwind. At first blaze was alert and signaling the approach of an unknown person, but a second later a stiff, long breeze came down from the north and Blaze gave a signal any ranger would immediately recognize: DANGER! Gilan had his bow out and five arrows in the ground in front of the stairs, Arython and mounted the second story balcony where there was a hundred or so arrows in a barrel and was high enough to see the path across the river unimpeded by weeds or thrushes. After another five minutes or so the distinct sound of hooves beating the hardened dirt path across the spur of the lake. Suddenly a horse came flying down the path, eyes wide and mouth foaming. At this distance Arython was unable to tell if the rider was dead or just severely injured, but it was obvious that the rider was lashed to the saddle, and the horse was wounded as well. the horse made it to within two hundred yards of the cabin when Arythons heart sank to his toes. "GILAN! Its a Ranger! Help him down, I'll mind the path. Arython drew the nocked arrow all the way to his ear and saw a pack of thirteen slavering hounds round the bend across the river jus as Gilan cut the ranger from the horses saddle. As an afterthought Arython leaped over the side of the balcony and took the reins of the other horse to the paddock around back, which he always left open. If one of the hounds was stupid enough to enter the pen with Rowendal, Hasufel, Blaze and the new horse then it deserved to be stomped into a meat-puddle. Arython climbed back to the balconey and returned his attention to the pack of hounds and saw they were less than two hundred yards out, and out for blood. It hurt Arython to do this, he loved small animals dearly and dogs were among his favorites, but these animals had tasted blood and would not stop until they had their kill. Arython let loose five arrows and five hounds fell. Three other arrows flew from the first floor window and three more hounds fell. The last five hounds stopped and conferred with each other for a moment, then two split off and raced back down the path and out of sight. The other three took positions around the cabin about a fifty yards apart in a triangle. This was not okay. Only Skandian Wolf-hounds had the intelligence these hounds had shown. Arython didn't know what was going on but if the hounds weren't attacking that was fine with him. He rushed downstairs and saw that all the windows had been shut except for the one Gilan had shot from, which he was now closing and barring. Gilan caught Arythons eye and said "Those are Skandian Hounds, aren't they? what are they doing hunting in the middle of Araluen?" Arython ran a hand through his hair and said quietly, " that bothers me too.. did you see the two that ran off? do you suppose they went to find their master? put that aside for a moment though... lets see who this is..." Arython turned to the small form lying on his table with a small pool of blood under her side. Arython brought out his medical kit and began cleaning and stitching any wound he found...
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Post by Brandwyn on Jun 20, 2014 16:37:25 GMT -5
Gilan caught Arythons eye and said "Those are Skandian Hounds, aren't they? what are they doing hunting in the middle of Araluen?"
Arython ran a hand through his hair and said quietly, " that bothers me too.. did you see the two that ran off? do you suppose they went to find their master? put that aside for a moment though... lets see who this is..." Arython turned to the small form lying on his table with a small pool of blood under her side. Arython brought out his medical kit and began cleaning and stitching any wound he found...
Tory regained conciousness suddenly but was not aware of her surroundings. She reached for her throwing knife as she opened her eyes, feeling someone's hands on her, but her her scabbard was empty. She felt as weak as a kitten and her hands felt like lead bars on spaghetti arms. She was virtually helpless.
A second later she recognized the silver oak leaf hanging around the unkown man's neck and a second after that she recognized one of the voices. She turned her head and sure enough... "Gilan?" she croaked. Her throat was parched and her tongue swollen. In a rush the past two days slammed her memory. She groaned as Arython poked at a rather deep wound on her left arm.
"Chip? My horse!" she tried to push Arython's hand away, "Tend to him first, I am fine." she looked around and realized she was indoors. Sudden panic washed over her, "Chip? Chip!" she called out and heard an answering winny from outside. She sank back in relief. "Is he okay? What about my forest cat, Pounce?"
All of these questions poured out of Tory in a rush as her mouth struggled to keep up with the leaps her mind was taking. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, knowing she was probably not making a whole lot of sense. She winced as the thread was pulled through her skin and bit her lower lip. She'd been through a whole lot worse and drove the pain to the back of her mind.
She opened her eyes again and studied the face of the ranger dressing her wounds. Nope, she didn't know him. That wasn't surprising though. She'd only made it to one gathering in her entire apprenticeship. This coming one she was supposed to take the test, assuming Crowley was going to let her. Oh, she had the skills a ranger needed, even some areas she excelled in, but Crowley might not trust her. She'd had three mentors and a very unorthodox training with a whole lot of field experience. There were a couple of blights on her record too. So until the day arrived for her test, she wasn't sure if she was going to be allowed to take it or not. Why was she thinking about this now? Tory brought her attention back to the ranger hovering above her.
"My name's Tory Waterton, apprentice ranger to ... uh... well I guess all three, Patrick Palisade, Ringulf and Tandar." She grinned sheepishly at the ranger. "Thanks for pulling my hind side out of the fire." She looked around the room quickly and saw it boarded up and Gilan poised with his bow in front of the only open window.
"Oh no!" She struggled to rise, thinking to lend a hand in the fight. "They followed me! Those stinky, filthy, rotten Grizlies and their Scotti cohorts!" She retorted angrily. She'd hoped she had lost them, but apparently not. It was those dang dogs. They'd tracked her through rocks and water, dogging her and Chip the entire way. She had no idea where Pounce was. The large Skandian forest cat could take care of himself though. She was only a little worried that the bandits had gotten him.
"Gilan, I was jumped by a small group who appeared to be bandits," Tory explained quickly. "I thought I was fine at first, took out six of them in the first minute, but suddenly there were about 40 of them rising up out of the ground and from the trees." She still didn't know how she and Chip hadn't noticed that many people hiding up ahead until it was too late. "I fought them until I ran out of arrows and still more kept coming. You can't fight them all! There's too many!" She cried out and once again tried to sit up, but was too weak to do more than raise her head. She felt a wave of dizziness wash over her and nearly passed out again. "If they're here we have got to get out of here!" She whispered, fighting to stay concious.
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