Sacred Hunt

In celebration of the Tournament Paramount. The Temple of Gilead is hosting a Sacred Hunt, and many rangers, hunters, barbarians, and other types with survival skills are all here to participate or watch. There's quite the little party going on already, with people sharpening arrowheads, having drinks with their friends, and generally participating in the good-natured revelry and competition. There's a prize, though it is nothing particularly valuable in and of itself, valuable only for the prestige it gives. And this is a trophy in the literal sense being the promised of the stuff remains of the hunt's finish. For whatever reason, after drawing lots Naneth was chosen by the temple to host the festitivies, and she's hanging out near the front of the party where a small impromptu altar has been set up to Gilead, the god of the hunt.

A hunt! Wait, why is Fishbelly here? Perhaps he's gotten lost on his way to some sort of sailing event, or drinking contest, or something along those lines. A clay jug's tossed back to his lips, a hearty swallow of mead, and he bellows out, "To the hunt!" No, he's in the right place. Gilead preserve us all.

Azog rides in atop a shaggy warhorse and hops from the saddle. Shield across his back, sword at his hip, he rides in full plate armor as if going to war, even though today's enemies are, presumably, not going to fight back very strenuously. Because you never know. He leads his horse to where Naneth awaits by the altar to Gilead, and bows as much as the heavy armor allows.

Lorien is here with his weapon of choice. The firearm. Today he doesn't have his Ray, instead opting for the rifle which holds the symbol of Eluna, matte black, silver sheen. He has cartridges which he takes and packages to his silk jacket, as he slips a new cartridge into the barrel, and then cocks the artifice. He lifts up a drink of Winterwhite, and then downs it, in honor.

Kathryn slips in on foot, weapons put away and hands left bare. A glance around is given, a quirk of smirk given for some of the odder folks involved, before she heads to the little altar is. A brief moment is given, before she slips a bit of something at the base, then she's back to milling about with everyone else.

"Good day." Naneth bows back to Azog slowly, then smiles just slightly at Fishbelly's drunken toast to the hunt. Good lord indeed. She seems in much more good humor today than she normally is, the half-elven woman has become somewhat known for her stern and no-nonsense approach and her laconic mannerisms. But on this sacred feast day, she's just got a more relaxed vibe about her. Seeing people have mostly arrived and gathered, she hops up onto the platform and whistles sharply before slamming the butt of her bow into the ground once, twice, three times. Letting the wood knock on the wood to call attention. "Everyone!"

She waits until she has their attention before continuing, "The rules are simple. The hunt is to last the day and this evening we feast. Hunt whatever small game you want along the way, but the champion prize to be sought is a White Stag, spotted over the last few weeks in woods not 10 miles from this very spot." The White Stag of course, honored as an avatar of Gilead himself. "You may choose to work together, or compete separately, however you wish, using whatever methods you wish. At the end of the day, your catches will be taken into consideration, including whoever bags our White Stag. But it is the voting and esteem of your fellow hunters that determines this year's champion. Whomever they feel best embodies a love for nature and the spirit of the hunt shall wear the leafed crown!"

Azog's eyes widen at the stag having been spotted. He nods gravely. "I will seek the Stag, then," he says, mostly to himself. "Honor demands no less challenge to honor Garganos Behemoth." He bows stiffly in his armor to Naneth and with a grunt of effort, pulls himself up into the saddle. If there is no more to the benediction, he will ride out to seek his quarry. Patience is not his strong suit. It is a weakness as a hunter, but hopefully not a fatal weakness.

Lorien lifts up his rifle and cheers for the fact of the matter, only quietly. As he shifts, and then stands a little, before he takes another drink, and then he gives a quiet prayer. He converges towards the people he knows, namely the only actual hunter that would be is likely Fishbelly, and he lifts a wave and smiles, as he listens with what is said.

Fishbelly brings one hand up, tugging at his beard a bit as the rules are laid out. "Th'White Stag, eh? A good omen! Glory to th'one who bags that beast, indeed," he chuckles heartily, glancing about. A raise of his chin here and there to others he knows, a tusked grin upon his face. Kathryn prowls around the edges, but really, it's more of a narrowing in on a target - specifically, Fishbelly and his soon to be companion, "You hunt then, Fishbelly?" Not disbelieving or believing, just a greeting of sorts, as she turns to watch some impatient hurry out before even waiting for Naneth finish, and others fall into the mindset of the Hunter.

"There's really nothing else. Good luck, and good hunting. May your arrows be true." Or bullets as the case may be, "And your feet be swift." The benediction made, Naneth steps to the side, and the hunters generally begin moving out. There's a mish-mash of it really. A hodge-podge of people who are just rushing off as fast and as furiously as they can, maybe intending to get to the stag first or at least bag as much other game as possible. Others are lingering around people they know, forming teams and talking strategy....

"I've been known to, now'n again," Fishbelly admits cheerfully, "I'm no ranger, but I know my way outside th'city! So..." A look around the adventurers, "Guess we should all form a team, then, eh?"

Lorien waves towards Kathryn, and smiles at Fishbelly, "It's Lorien Valiant, if you recall me from Rune," he says, and offers out his hand a bit, as he adds, "We should," and then looks about... And waves at Azog! Ya the guy with the warhorse.

Azog is a fairly adept hunter, in mundane terms, and if his spiritual knowledges is lacking, he knows a thing or two about deer. And if he can't find some game, he will .... well, he'll just have to find some game. Lorien's wave draws his attention, though, and he turns from his rushing off to see what the man wants. Riding back, he asks, "Did you need my assistance?" We've got all day, there is not so much rush as all that.

"There is debate on forming a team," Kathryn explains in shorthand, flexing her hands absently, nails flashing now and again. "Interested?"

Lorien nods at Azog, "Aye, you're welcome to it, if they are, it seems like a nice round number."

Azog looks pained at Kathryn's comment about forming a team. "The essence of competition is personal achievement. I will agree that many races have done much to their advantage by forming teams. But this is a celebration of Garganos Behemoth," he uses the Oruch name for Angoron, "and we honor him by competition. I think it would be a dishonor to rely on the skills of others on this day." With a stiff bow, then, he rides off on his own.

GAME: Azog rolls survival: (6)+14: 20 GAME: Kathryn rolls Survival: (7)+12: 19 GAME: Fishbelly rolls Survival: (17)+12: 29 GAME: Lorien rolls survival: (12)+0: 12

The trip starts out easily enough. As the light woods give way to deeper and darker woods, it strains the tracking and wayfinding capabilities of each of the hunters. Deep woods hide the sky and the sun, and make it so that all but the most towering landmarks are lost in a sea of wood and leaf. There's a reason people talk about being unable to see the forest because of all the trees. It can be difficult to navigate in the direction that they are supposed to be going, and the traveling is slow-going. Soon Azog realizes that he's lost. He was close to the right direction, but barely missed a wrong turn down a ravine, and now he is quite sure that he has no idea where he is. Luckily, he'll be able to find his bearings soon hopefully. 

Meanwhile, working together, Kathryn, Fishbelly, and Lorien stay on track. Though Lorien is clearly a bit outmatched by his companions, he's able to make useful contribution and keep them in the right direction, the three of them quickly navigating the deeper part of the woods and coming up on a treacherous hillside. It's a steep ravine. Not quite a cliff, it could be walked down instead of climbed, but it would be dangerous going for those who aren't sure-footed. They could tie a rope to a tree maybe to help them climb down, or risk it on their own, but going around would take at least an hour.....

GAME: Azog rolls survival: (4)+14: 18

Lorien unties from his package a spidersilk rope, as he looks towards the others. He walks along with them, and then smiles when they reach the ravine, "I have this," he says, as he unspools the rope and begins to give a nod towards Kathryn and Fishebelly, "Might make it best of an option."

"Hah! I have a better option than that, lad," says Fishbelly with a broad grin as he looks back from the edge of the ravine, reaching out his hands to either of the others, "Take my hands, eh? One and one, there's a lad'n a lass, and we'll be down there in two shakes of a sea snake's tail."

Kathryn spends as much time on the ground scouting, as she does going up a tree, or a pile of rocks; really, anything to keep from /just/ being on the ground. She's silent for the most part - and has a natural nervousness of things flying over head that has her finding cover - but for the most part, focused on the hunt. Until they find the ravine. Then she's focused at, crouched down at, the edge, looking over the edge. Then again, Fishbelly and Lorien are worth their own glances - the rope makes sense, the hands don't. ".. learned a new trick?" comes the question, before she straightens up and moves over to take the hand. Without nails. For now.

Azog isn't sure where he is, but that's okay, he's here to hunt as he finds, and being in one place or another isn't hugely critical to his plans. He's not where he wants to be, for chasing the stag, but he has an eye out for anything else that runs through the woods and looks tasty. His tower shield is across his back, and his sword is sheathed, he rides with a javelin ready as he seeks a way out of this place he's gotten himself stuck. He'll try another way when he gets clear.

GAME: Fishbelly casts Dimension Door. Caster Level: 7 DC: 19

Lorien lifts up his hand and nods towards Fishbelly. He then offers his hand towards the other, "The only way that you should hunt," he says, with a grin, as he hefts his rifle about his shoulder by th strap and waits for the magic. He also checks on his contraptions.

"Th'seas an' oceans of my lord flow everywhere, whether you see them or not," Fishbelly replies with a deep, throaty chuckle at the question, taking the hands of his companions, "An' we can ride those tides jus' a bit... enough to deal with this ravine, at least!" A moment's prayer, and the trio vanish in a -splash- of water that wets the ground where they once stood, before they appear some distance below.

Fishbelly teleports them down into the ravine, skipping the need for any treacherous climbing or rope-crawling at all. Not that it was much of a cliff, nothing that would have killed them if they had fallen down it. But hey, what's the point of learning magic if you can't get a little flashy with it! The trio are able to move on, following the line of the valley towards the river, and beyond the river hopefully their quarry.

Azog meanwhile, finds himself, 30 or 45 minutes behind, coming up to that same treacherous ravine, him and his mount in need of a way down........

Right around the time that Azog is finding himself with a ravine to navigate? The Trio of Team Fishbelly/Kathryn/Lorien finds their next obstacle. There's a river, the water fast and raging. Traveling further downstream, they're able to find a spot that looks as if it would be pretty safe to fjord, not difficult at all to get across even for Lorien's less experienced wilderness traveler. Dotting the river bank are blue mushrooms covering a 10 or 20 foot area. They range from pale sky blue to deep sapphire caps with cloudy white stems. Quite beautiful really.

GAME: Fishbelly rolls Knowledge/Nature: (8)+8: 16

Every now and again, Azog's javelin is thrown, and a hare or fox or some small furry critter becomes part of the menu. He will dismount and lead his horse when the footing is tricky, and lead it down into the ravine, since that looks like the way that he needs to go.

GAME: Lorien rolls knowledge/nature: (14)+5: 19 GAME: Kathryn rolls Knowledge/Nature: (13)+14: 27 GAME: Azog rolls acrobatics: (20)+-1: 19 GAME: Azog rolls acrobatics: (8)+-1: 7 GAME: Azog rolls reflex: (6)+8: 14 GAME: Naneth rolls 1d6: (1): 1

Lorien travels onwards with the group, and then he leans down towards the mushrooms while the others also look towards them, "These are nice," he says, as he dips a nod, "Fulgurate! So beautiful," he says, as he reaches a bit towards them, then blinks, as he shakes his head, thinking better of it. He has no idea about the safest way, as he stands up, and looks to the others to assure they're on the right path before traveling!

Azog makes it to the bottom of the hill in somewhat less than impressive manner. This is no consolation to the bunny he landed on, and he adds the unfortunate hare to his game bag. Regaining his feet, looks up where his horse wisely balked, and he sends the creature home with a curt command. He proceeds on foot, only a bit slower than before, making his way onwards.

Kathryn avoids getting distracted by the raging river - and any metallic flashes from fish in the water - but it is a close thing. Instead, onward they continue - until they come to the field of blue 'shrooms. She pauses a moment, then nods towards them, "Keep to the edges; it can cause an explosive reaction," she comments, dryly amused and making a mental note of the patch.

"I know 'em," Fishbelly chuckles heartily, moving to start picking his way through the mushrooms carefully, "Wouldn't want t'fry myself out here. My beard gets burnt often enough as it is!"

Traveling and moving onwards, the sun is starting to get low in the sky, the shadows growing long. It's not sunset yet, and night is still a long way off, but it's late enough in the afternoon for their to be a calm and still pall over the woods. The animals are quiet, except the occasional chirping of birds, and game is slightly harder to come by. Now and again, each of our four heroes passes another hunter, with varying luck. Some of them have done quite well for themselves, others seem to be having a terrible day in the hunt and have little to show for it.

Soon, Azog finds himself at the same fjord, blue mushrooms dotting the river bank near where he must cross in a beautiful blue pattern. Meanwhile, Fishbelly, Lorien, and Kathryn, all pass by a deep and calm pool. They know they are getting close to where the Stag has been rumored to be spotted, though of course deer can roam many miles in a single day. But the pool is distracting, the waters lapping in the slight breeze calm and beautifully. The low sun glimmmers off something in the bottom of the pool, is that... treasure? Weapons and armor? Something clearly metallic glints in the light that pierces through the water, the pool looking only about 10 feet deep.....

GAME: Lorien rolls will: (13)+2: 15 GAME: Kathryn rolls Will: (15)+5: 20 GAME: Fishbelly rolls Will: (20)+13: 33 GAME: Kathryn rolls Knowledge/Arcana: (1)+3: 4

Azog hrmphs at the river. Obstacles. Well, he's got a plan for obstacles, and he takes a small griffon pendant and sets it on the ground before him. Saying a magical command, it grows to the size of a real griffon, albeit still bronze. Azog mounts, the griffon flies over the river.

"There may be a leprecaun're some faerie trickster about," Fishbelly says after a moment's frowning into the pool, "Or somethin' worse. No gold there, it's some manner've illusion." A dismissive wave of his hand, "Come. Th'Stag awaits, we should keep moving."

GAME: Lorien rolls knowledge/arcana: (3)+9: 12

Lorien hefts up his rifle about the shoulder, and then approaches the waters of the pool. He leans forward, and then takes a peek within, "What's that? It feels like it might be treasure," he says, as he dips a nod, "Not that we've the time and grab it, if it's real," he adds, and relaxes, as he looks about towards the others real fast, and nods at Fishbelly, "Thought it was odd... Hrm," he stands, and rolls his shoulders. "An Accursed Pool," he adds. Then he pauses, looking towards Fishbelly, and Kathryn, "What if it manages to harm someone? It's more important than the hunt, I'm sur it'd be appreciated by the gods to keep people safe from it."

Kathryn frowns thoughtfully, then tilts her head. "I have no idea how to destroy such a thing - but there should be time when we return to let others know about it. Certainly someone should know how to handle it, yes?"

Azog is looking somewhat worse for wear as he rides overhead atop a flying bronze griffon. Bits of earth and tree and grass from going down the hill head over teakettle, but he's got his somewhat scruffy game back, and a javelin in hand as he flies along just overhead, the magical griffon making good time at catching up, Azog using its limited time judiciously. He offers a call of greeting to the other hunters as he catches up to them. "Halllloooo."

"P'rhaps Gilead himself has had this left here as a challenge for those who would pursue th'stag," says Fishbelly heartily, waving a hand vaguely in the direction of the pool, "I'd say leave it here. We can mention it to others when we return, eh--" Then there's a griffon overhead, and he looks up, "Huh. Well, that's one way t'travel!"

Lorien pauses, and he makes a decision, as he looks towards the others of the group, and quirks up a small smile, "You maybe right, however many are on this hunt, and many may be put at risk, now that I know its nature, I may manage, so you all can go on without me, I shall remain here until such a person comes that can take care of the pool, my apologies to each of you." He chuckles, and then takes a seat, so he can keep vigil.

Kathryn would answer, but she's not there anymore. Well, she is - but she's now over there. Where there is canopy and cover between her and the cause of the flying shadow. Once she realizes it is just Azog, she slinks back out. And without even an accusing look at her, mutters, "You try growing up in Dragonier after the fact." Flying shadows = lunchtime. Lorien gets a look, but instead of replying immediately, she looks at the more diplomatic of the group. Well, of her.

Fishbelly turns his head to give a bemused look over in Kathryn's direction--and then he grunts a bit, and nods. "Eh? Well, if you'd rather sit here, lad, so be it," he declares cheerfully, "I understand. Now, let's move on, lass, we've huntin' to do! We can't let that man on his overgrown bird show us up, eh? He might have th'high ground, but tracks will be down here..."

Lorien chuckles amusedly, as he waves towards the griffon-rider, and then Fishbelly with Kathryn. He nods, "Hunt well," he says, as he adjusts his jacket and then begins a slow adjustment of the strap on his rifle, settling about for a bit.

Azog is moving on! From the air, it's harder to see the small things as Fishbelly points out, but navigation and avoiding hazards is easier. He can still land and check things out before moving onwards, and he'll swoop occasionally on some unsuspecting animal, though those are fewer now.

Kathryn looks at Lorien for a moment, then nods. "At the very least, find a place to stake out, and hunt anything that passes by?" Advice given, she turns to Fishbelly, and smirks, "I still think the gliders are a better way to go about it."

Fishbelly trudges away from the pool, using his trident as a walking staff through the foliage as he starts off in the direction the Stag was spotted into. "Jealous, lass? I'm sure that if y'worked at it, you could learn t'fly..."

Fishbelly, Kathryn, and Azog move out and follow the trail a little while further while Lorien waits by the pool. Eventually, they find their quarry. Eating in a clearing, grazing on the grass, a majestic 12-point stag of purest white. The animal is truly magnificent, strong and healthy looking, though no more than just a normal animal for all that. A rare specimen indeed, but neither magical nor blessed. It's ears flick, unaware of the approach of the hunters, who seem to be the first ones here.

Meanwhile, eventually, along comes a druid, passing by the pool and Lorien. He takes a look at the pond for a moment, then at Lorien and wonders, "What're you doing here lad?"

Lorien stands up, as he notices the druid, and then he gives a soft smile, "My friends went on so they could hunt the stag, however I volunteered and stay here because this pool is stagnated and Accursed, instead of waiting so that we could return and tell of it, I was waiting here until one arrived which could cleanse it, it seems to give people an impression of treasure beneath it, and I don't wish it and harm any that come across it, would you be able, kind sir, to remove such a curse?" he inquires, hopefully. He then steps away a little, and nods, "If not, I shall remain on vigil."

"Hsst--!" Fishbelly thrusts out a hand towards Kathryn as if to urge her to silence as he catches sight of that flash of white, and he crouches down a bit to peer through the brush at it, murmuring in low tones, "You have a bow, don't you, lass? Your turn t'shine here."

Azog is pleased to have caught up to the others, and then found the stag. He whispers a quiet prayer of thanks and moves forward past Fishbelly and Kathryn, bronze griffon flying in close to light on the ground, landing to give Azog a steady platform for casting his javelin.

Kathryn waits, actually - at least long enough for Azog to dismount and ready his javelin, pulling her bow free and notching a bow. Why yes, yes, she does time it just so, so that two weapons fly at once. At least, as best she can.

The druid looks to Lorien for a few moments, listening to his story and then looks over towards the pool. He circles it a few times and thennods to Lorien and gives a small smile. "Well, good for you. Not a lot of people would sacrifice their chances like that." He pauses for another few seconds, praying and calling on the Gods of nature, bringing down their divine power into the world. Slowly, over the course of the next minute or two, the illusion of the treasure disperses from the bottom of the pool, and it is healed and clean. 

Meanwhile, the hunter's weapons strike through. One would not have been enough to bring down the stag, but the shaft of the arrow followed by the thud of the Javelin both bring it down, tumbling the animal a few feet with a shrill animal cry of pain and then silence....

"Praise be to th'Gods," Fishbelly roars in the silence that follows, rising to his full height and thrusting a fist in the air, "Hail t'Gilead of th'Hunt, to Rada of th'Seas, and to Angoron th'Thunderer for sponsorin' this competition! Well done, lass, lad!"

Lorien gives the druid a nod, "I may be a follower of Eluna, but she teaches us all the same the ways of good, I don't seek a reward, only the protection of people," he says. It is earnest, like he means it, and also from the firearm he wears it's obvious that he puts much stock into his faith. He watches as the pool is healed, and he seems a bit satisfied, "Thanks, I should catch up with my friends, or by the way it seems the time shows, I should be on my way back," he adds. He doesn't give his name, interestingly, and then he shifts so he can be ready with the return trip, as he gives a soft prayer.

Azog bows his head respectfully as Fishbelly calls out. "Hail to the Master of Beasts. Hail to Garganos Behemoth," he intones. And then he'll move forward to take the beast up and carry it back to the camp, though he'll wait for Fishbelly and Kathryn to come up, because after all it was a group kill.

Kathryn makes her way over, and instead of public hails, "Thank you for your life, Brother Stag; it shall not be in vain." She can be a bit more formal at times, it would seem. She removes her arrow carefully, then nods to Azog and Fishbelly, before adding belatedly, "Last I checked, Fishbelly, I had neither the wings nor the feathers for such a feat."

And so the day fades into night-time. By the time everyone gets back to the festival grounds, the sun is long setting in the sky. Though there's still light, it's the red magic of Twilight, and judging by the dark grays and blues in the sky it will be starlight soon enough. The White Stag is displayed proudly, and Fishbelly, Kathryn, and Azog are the subject of many cheers and good-natured grumbles of jealousy. The mead is pouring freely and already people are starting to skin the game that they've caught, the crackle of the fire and the smell of roasting meat filling the air. Naneth steps forward and says, simply and directly enough, "It's time for the hunters to choose a champion among themselves!" Of course, talk is immediately which of the three it will be, most hunters seeming to think it only fair someone who bagged the trophy White Stag should be chosen, though a druid, recognizable to Lorien, slowly is making his way towards the front.

A lot of mead, and meat, ends up in Fishbelly's belly before too long. By the time the discussions are underway, he's already sinking back against a tree with a cavernous yawn, swirling a bottle of mead in his hand as he watches with a lazy smile to see who it'll be. Not him, certainly, he was just along for the ride.

Azog is among those skinning and preparing the smaller game he'd bagged earlier in the day. He drinks sparingly, from thirst rather than for entertainment, and he's just finishing up as the call to declare a winner goes around. While he would have liked to be the winner, he demurs.

Lorien reaches for a mead when he arrives back, and well considering he didn't catch much if anything, he does grab a bit, and takes up a sip. He arrives towards his companions, the three if they are about, and lifts his hand to wave and gives a smile. He makes his own vote, for Fishbelly, when it's called for, and he gives the other hunters their props. He notices the druid, and gives him a smile also, towards the one which saved the pool from its curse. Mead, he likes mead. Still it's next on his line of enjoyable kinds of drink. Winterwhite is first.

Kathryn doesn't vote for anyone, but gives props to those she'd worked with - including Lorien, for both the knowledge, the tracking - even staying behind to guard a known danger.

Azog isn't taking himself out of the voting, he's just not going to toot his own horn. Honor is where others think highly of you. Not just being the loudest at bragging on yourself.

"I'd like to recommend that this young man." The druid who approached the front, "Be nominated as the winner. He didn't catch the most game, and he wasn't part of the party that took down the stag. But he selflessly gave up his position in the hunt to guard others against danger, and he was prepared to hold a vigil to protect those who might wander by from the worst evils of nature. What does Gilead stand for, if not that?" After making his speech, which seems to make people think, the man sits back down... votes are tallied and...

It's a close call! It seems the druid swayed many people to Lorien's side with the tale of the young man's selflessness. But Kathryn was a true ranger on the team, helped them past many an obstacle, was the first to arrive at the White Stag and helped strike the killing blow. There's a tie, and then on the revote, Naneth hands the bag over to the high priest of the Temple of Gilead, who announces, "Ranger Kathryn, Half-Elven servant of Gilead, is the champion of the Sacred Hunt for this season! Cheers for her!" A loud raucous cry goes up, and a temple servant brings over a 'crown' made of intricately woven leaves for her.....

Lorien listens when he is given a regard by the people. He swallows some of his mead, and flushes, as he chuckles, and when Kathryn is called the winner, he calls out a cheer also. He's happy, he didn't need and win, not at all. He seems satisfied, and then he gives his drink more attention, might as well enjoy the party!

"Huzzah," Fishbelly's oruch roar joins the cry, "Kathryn, Champion of th'Sacred Hunt!" A pause, and he leans over a bit with a broad, tusk-toothed grin, bottle of mead in hand, "So, lass, are y'single?"

Run, Kathryn.

And this is when suddenly Kathryn has the urge to change her vote. Because now she has a crown, and can't /leave/. And she wasn't expecting that, not at /all/. "Ah... I think this calls for more drink?" At least - that's what she'll say if anyone makes her speak. ".... /lots/ more drink." Oh gods, save her now.