RP:Casual Stroll
Summary:Orikahn takes a shot at Kelovath and several more at Cobalt.
Northern Sage Forest
Orikahn lounges high in the middle boughs of a tree, reclining lazily with his back slouched against the trunk. The massive sabercat sits with his bow and quiver laying across his abdomen, enjoying the ambient sounds of the wild. His keen ears remain pointed and upright, waiting to pick out the sound of any suitable interlopers.
Kelovath decided to spend the day away from Larket. At least, that was his goal. He left early and his first spot, besides Kayla’s Eatery, would be Kelay Tavern. Old habit, more than anything. Rarely did he speak to anyone there, but it was a place to relax. Walking beside his mount, Cobalt, the paladin looked around the forest, knowing it quite well from his time spend traveling. It was a peaceful place with little history to it. It made his trip worth the time. Cobalt kept his head low, sniffing at the ground as the pair walked along the path. As always, the man was equipped with his sword and his armor. Times were dangerous. He always needed to be prepared for what may lurk about.
Orikahn feels his ear twitch, and his eyes open, first his ordinary two, then his unnatural third. He's no longer alone. Creeping silently, the loincloth-clad feline slides onto all fours and creeps, sliding along his belly as he shifts a few meters out on the bough. His black-and-coffee stripes are well suited to the shadowy canopy, but he's cautious in his movements nonetheless; there's no worse feeling than wasting your shot. Spotting Kelovath, his phosphorescent eyes narrow, and the sabercat licks his chops, oversized fangs glinting in a passing sunbeam. Suitable indeed. Kahn knows it's about time to begin a fresh chain of sculls, and this fellow seems a fine candidate. Fluidly, silently, like a mantis rearing for the pounce, Kahn draws and knocks his bow, scarcely daring to breathe. The gut bowstring gives the softest creak as he pulls back, and his arm gives a gentle tremble of strain when he comes to full draw. Closer, closer, closer come Kelovath and Cobalt. Better take out the man first, the predator concludes. The bowstring snaps, the arrow whistles. If Kahn's aim is true (and Kelovath's guard is lacking) the broadhead will find itself lodged in the fellow's throat.
Kelovath allowed his gaze to peer about the forest, noticing nothing to worry about. The man had never been attacked in this forest, so there’s no reason to be on guard. Cobalt was much too worried about whatever the scent was in the air to sense anything of danger. And even if he did, not much a weasel could actually do. So, the paladin kept the same pace, only looking backward at his mount once in a while. It was almost like the Gods, or maybe a certain God, was looking over the paladin. Because, when the arrow should have been buried in the man’s throat, it was instead lodged into a nearby tree. Where did the paladin go? Well, Kelovath was on the ground. Besides the loud clanking and clacking of his armor as he hit the ground, the dust around him made it obvious as well. He tripped, while looking backward at Cobalt, and fell, first on his stomach, then on his face a bit. He was able to brace himself for the most part, but it was enough to take the air out of his lungs. A root seemed to of made its way from the forest and onto the path. Luckily for Kelovath, it saved his life. Cobalt saw the arrow in the tree at this point and completely ignored the paladin. The mount looked to the trees, wanting to find the culprit. Kelovath, on the other hand, had no freaking clue about the arrow. He grunted softly and lifted himself from the ground, shaking his head. “Gah. Great start to the day…”
Orikahn blinks, watching the colorful fletching of his arrow still wiggling as the projectile sits lodged in a tree. The cat's ears slick back. Unfair fate. Feeling he must have done something to displease the mighty spirits, or that perhaps he is being tested, Kahn begins drawing his next arrow. The predator freezes when he spot's the weasel's searching eyes. Unfair fate indeed! Gritting his teeth, the cat is sure to freeze, but Kahn knows he can't stay a statue forever. With time running rapidly against him, the feline must think quickly. That means following his instincts. In a risky maneuver, for he's likely to give away his position now, the cat pushes up to a kneeling position, his bushy tail waving out for balance, and opens up a volley. Muscle memory takes over as he knocks, shoots, knocks, shoots, this time for the weasel, going for easy body shots, hopefully the kidney or the liver if he can. Without a mount, after all, Kahn should have an easier time running the fellow down, oughtn't he?
Kelovath was quite confused at this point. Cobalt’s sudden noises were unsettlingly, but the paladin knew something was wrong. Enough time had been spent between man and mount that when danger was around, they both knew it and could communicate it between each other. He tried looking where Cobalt was looking, but it was no use. Too much in the way to make out anything specific. Instead, he’d have to trust in his companion and make the best of the situation. As quick as possible, the paladin unleashed a burst of magic that surrounded himself and Cobalt. The aura engulfed them with some unknown holy magic. Right away, the large weasel dashed into the forest without a second thought, avoid all the arrows but one, which found its way into the saddle that was fastened around him. Kelovath followed the mount, his gaze once again lifting to the trees, searching for the attacker. The unknown magic was made clear as Cobalt and Kelo raced into the forest (and hopefully toward the bowman), their speed increased dramatically, closing any distance between them and Kahn. Really though, the paladin was following the weasel, still having no idea where they were heading or what they might be heading for. He trusted his mount and would follow to defend him. Cobalt, who caught a scent of something unfamiliar, knew where he was going. And what/who he was going after. It took little time for the dire weasel to track Kahn to his tree. A cat now possibly stuck in a tree.
Orikahn hisses his displeasure when the bulk of his volley finds naught but dirt. If that weasel should get at him, Kahn knows that he stands a non-negligible chance of dying, and Kelovath's assistance certainly won't improve the cat's odds. With harsh internal reprimands (they were handed to him on a platter, weren't they?), Kahn turns to flee, stashing his bow at his back and hoping he can make a clean break. By the time Cobalt is at the trunk's base, Kahn has gone out on a limb and, in a show of daring acrobatics, the herculean cat digs his claws in and leaps. For what feels like an eternity, Orikahn flails midair, legs and arms waving and pumping until, with a crash, he breaks through the foliage and snags a bough in his arms, making the great limb groan and sway with the force of his landing. The moment his inertia is back under control, the would-be-murderer resumes his getaway, scrambling back up and onto all fours for an arboreal escape, pressing ever and ever deeper, leap by leap, one tree at a time, into the wild heart of the wood.
Kelovath stopped behind Cobalt once reaching the tree, just in time to see the massive cat in mid-air. The paladin was beyond stunned at the sight, unable to do anything in response to being attacked. Cobalt, on the other hand, was just about to race through the forest yet again, until Kelovath called out. “Cobalt!” The weasel stopped right away and looked at the armored man. With a quick motion of his head in the opposite direction of the attacker, the mount accepted the silent command. The pair, no longer having the aura, returned to the path. On his way, the paladin noticed the arrow in the tree. He removed it, tucking it away for the moment, and continued on his way toward Kelay.
Orikahn is long gone, and even the leafy crashing of his escape has faded beneath the ambient buzz of the living forest. The arrow Kelovath holds is distinct and hand made, fletched with tropical plumage, tipped with a glistening flint broadhead, and bound with a fine cord of animal gut. Such an arrow as this may serve well as a clue to the assailant's identity.