A different kind of hunt.

It's happy hour, the alcohol is flowing. It's time to pull up a tankard of ale, bottle of wine for the ladies and regail tales of heroism and grandeur.

Topic/Postby Sven » 21 Mar 2015, 21:11

Well there will be a Part 2 coming soon and Thelarwen will be writing up Part 3 :)


Double post merged on 21 Mar 2015, 21:11

<Unfortunately my writing skill has dramatically reduced for the second chapter, sorry>

Chapter 2
It had been another freezing night in a make shift shelter, the trip was finally starting to wear at Sven’s mental and physical health. “Tyson?” he called out noticing that the dog wasn’t sleeping next to him, the hound must have woke before him this morning as he rubbed the sleepy dust from his eyes and glances outside of the shelter he noticed that the snow had picked up again during the night. “Tyson?” he called again, venturing out into the snow and pulling his fur cloak around himself to shield against the cutting wind. There was no sign of the dog which was unusual for Tyson he normally spent all of his time at his master’s side, a quick glance across the ground revealed fresh tracks that had yet to be buried by the onslaught of snow so it couldn’t have been long since he left, perhaps he caught the scent of a deer or an elk and his hunger got the better of him. Placing his bow on his back and not forgetting to pick up his pack he set off after the tracks, Northrend was not the place for Tyson to be wandering off alone.

It only took five minutes to catch up with him, as expected there was a stag on the horizon and Tyson had started to stalk it, he looked back at Sven with an appreciative glance no doubt thinking that dinner would soon be theirs. “Alright boy, get moving” Sven smiled the first genuine smile since they set off on their journey, just because they weren’t here for the hunting didn’t mean they couldn’t enjoy it and nothing raises the spirits like a good hunt, an elk this close to their camp might as well have been a gift from the gods. Tyson set off through the snow, his head down low and his shoulders showing the muscles of his breed as he stalked closer and closer to the stag, he was a natural predator but he had been trained to flush prey perfectly and instead of charging straight in for the kill he naturally took a wide curving arc to the Stag, whom at this point remained munching on what little grass or plant had managed to poke through the snow. Sven slowly but smoothly reached around his back and pulled an arrow from the quiver letting his thumb gently run across the feather flights as he notched it against the string. “Atta’boy Tys” he whispered as Tyson began to shift into position, the Elk had no idea he was there.

The storm was kicking up a noise which no doubt helped to muffle the dogs approach but Gilnean hounds aren’t just known for the size of their bodies but the size of their lungs and when Tyson was ready to flush something you knew about it, a thunderous howl to start followed by a loud serious of aggressive barks. The elk’s ears shot up and he immediately started moving away from Tyson right into Sven’s field of vision. He pulled the string on his bow three quarters of the way back waiting for the Elk to hit the right spot “Little closer” he whispered, the string of his bow pressed against his cheek. “Little more” then with one last pull he released the arrow which sailed through the air carving its way through the snow and wind before sinking directly into the side of the Elk. It was almost perfected, most likely a lung shot. The elk let out a dying scream and scattered into the snow, it would no doubt make a few yards before it collapsed. Sven let another smile creep onto his face, despite the cold this was turning into a successful day – perhaps he’d stumble across her his intended prey today as well.

Tyson returned to his side shortly, a satisfied albeit tired look on his face. “You did good, buddy” he scratched the dog behind the ears as they both pushed their way through the snow following the red blood covered snow. The arrow was buried deep into the side of the elk which was left in a frozen pool of blood. “That’s a big Elk, they grow get big up here” and it was, the beast was easily 250 kilos if not more. Sven pulled his bow back over his back and withdrew a long curved hunting knife from his leg. “Seems like a waste, there’s no way we’re taking all of this with us” he set to work carving the animal up as best he could in the encroaching blizzard and by the time he was finished he was caked in blood but had a good few slabs of prime meat packed away into his bag, Tyson laid lazily by his side having just eaten what Sven expected to be more than his stomach could handle. “No throwing up” he warned him.

A short walk took the pair of hunters to a wooded area, it was good shelter from the storm and if they followed it all the way they’d end up near the next pocket of scourge activity. Luck was certainly on their side today. The pair took a moment to sit and rest from the active morning, a fire was lit for the first time since they left the boat and Sven helped himself to more brandy than was wise. “That was a fine kill” a voice from behind a tree called out, no doubt it was meant to be a greeting but it didn’t stop Sven from scrambling for his bow and pulling a noticed arrow back to his shoulder. “Show yourself” he warned, moving his aim from tree to tree attempting to pinpoint the direction of the voice.

“Woah, easy now. I’m friendly” a man stepped out from behind a nearby tree, he wore old leather armour and had a crossbow slung over his shoulder, blue eyes peered out from a leather hat and his hands stretched up to the sky in surrender “It should be me angry with you, I was following that Elk for miles” the man simply chuckled.

“So it was you that flushed it towards us, was thinking it unusual to just happen across it” Sven smiled and slowly placed his arrow down on the ground “If you want some meat we have plenty, there was more than we could carry” Sven gestured to their fire and the succulent elk meat roasting atop it.
“That’s mighty kind of you, stranger” the stranger spoke with a calm but tired voice

“Sven” Sven replied, checking that the meat was cooking right. The older hunter revealed his name to be Gerald, he was hunting for a local outpost to feed the soldiers and had been stationed in Northrend for a year now. His information on Dragonblight was invaluable but he had once piece of information that would change Sven’s hunt entirely. After they had both shared a meal and a drink Gerald picked his things up and prepared to leave the camp

“Sven, we’ve had some reports of a massive Scourge gathering in Icecrown, Mord’rethar. I’ll mark it on your map and you avoid it at all costs” Sven nodded in thanks, casting a short glance to Tyson and back.

“Thanks, you stay safe out there Gerald” he nodded as Gerald turned his back and left, a belly full of elk meat no doubt improving his spirit for the long walk back to his own camp.

“A massive gathering of Scourge” Sven muttered as Tyson came to sit beside him. “Sounds like our Thelarwen’s taste, doesn’t it?” he smirked before peering down at his map. “Looks like we’re going in the wrong direction” …
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Sven
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