RP:The Bleeding and the Bleating

Part of the The White Hunt Arc

Deeper into the Woods

Ivorile and Orikahn encounter the Auroch at last. A bloody takedown ensues, and a disturbing discovery is made.

Orikahn peers out from behind the narrow slits of the wildlife blind that for the past few days has doubled as a shelter for our two, down-on-their-luck hunters. Dome-shaped and tightly woven from green pine branches, the simple wigwam is just big enough for them to sit around the pit fire without burning themselves. Though the smoke is meager (for pit fires burn very, very cleanly), Kahn has still bothered to add a small vent to the top center, through which the sun-backed branches of the might forest may be observed. Several finger-width slits, too, each perhaps as long as one's forearm, allow those inside to peek out at the wildlife beyond. The past few days, the two have eaten their fill on wild fowl and other small game. Even now, Kahn roasts a little family of chipmunks on a makeshift rotisserie spit that he absentmindedly turns. His mind isn't on his cooking. His face is close against the west-facing slit, his bright, jade green eyes scanning the snowy fields beyond, pupils narrowed to needle-thin slits. The sunlight lays across his face in a bright stripe, contrasting with the orange/brown firelit shadows of the wigwam's interior. A makeshift wolfskin doorflap hangs loosely over the low door, just large enough for one to wriggle through on all fours.

Ivorile was curled up in the corner, seeming quite depressed. There would be bags under his eyes, and his skin would be almost devoid of color. He would occasionally sigh, and look up, just to see what Orikahn was doing. "Any sight of it yet?" He hopefully asked. The long periods of time they would have had to hide in the shelter was getting to the knight. "The sun..." He quietly stated, looking out the tiny hole in the roof, that allowed for the smoke to escape, as well as the thoughts of the depressed paladin. "Anything at all? Is there any other method?" He asked, a bit of hopelessness in his voice, not a single bit of his usual optimism. He would then slouch, and begin to stare at the fire pit, a dreary look on his face. The sullen man didn't seem to be paying much attention, so he probably was asking Orikahn, already expecting the worst outcome.

Orikahn blinks at the sound of Ivorile's voice. Turning, he rubs his eyes with the leather palm of his gauntlet, looking a little dazed. First he glances over to Ivorile, then to the fire, then to Ivorile again before shaking his head as though to clear it, blinking again afterward. "None yet." His voice is hoarse with disuse. The cat clears his throat. "Nothing for sure, I mean. I thought I did, but my eyes has been playing tricks on me all day." Again, the cat rubs them with the palm of his gauntlet. "It's getting a little hard to tell. All this snow plays with my depth perception." Looking blearily around the small interior again, he remembers their lunch and lifts the spit off of the fire to study the little, sizzling roasts, sniffing and studying each before carefully pinching and tugging one off, dropping it in his armored lap to cool. Kahn offers the spit to Rile, holding it out and expecting the knight to take it. Already, his back is to Ivorile once more, his eyes up against the slit, brows furrowing as he squints against the blazing afternoon light, studying something intensely.

Ivorile looked at the spit that was offered to him, he then looked down at his own lap, and shook his head. He would put the roast somewhere, not on the fire of course, not allowing the food to go to waste. All they needed was more work. The knight would sigh upon hearing the news. "That's just wonderful..." The remark would be followed by Ivorile resuming his activity of staring out of the only way out, or at least the only part he could actually see out, not occupied by the cat and all. Ivorile would look down at his pack, it wasn't opened for quite some time, he wondered what he left in there. Ivorile told you, "ooc: Switching computers, one moment." Ivorile vanished before your eyes, perhaps never to be seen again. Ivorile seems to appear from out of nowhere, spontaneously generating next to you.

Orikahn snorts and sits back, rubbing his eyes for the third time, the presses his face eagerly back to the slit. "Rile." The cat speaks lowly, deliberately. "Come around and see. Tell me what that is, there, out in the snow. What do you make of that?" The cat scoots around, shifting to make enough room for Ivorile to look out. "That little dark splash out in the field." Sure enough, near the northern edge of the wide field to the west, there is something, a dark spot that doesn't move like swaying scrub. Though it is distant enough to scintillate with mirage, it's clearly something. Kahn is already slinging his quiver up. "I thought it was a buzzard, but now I'm not so sure." This will make at least the dozenth time Orikahn has set out to chase down some shadow on a whim, usually some porcupine, or a skunk, or patch of dark gravel the sun had scorched dry. Still, something does seem a little... off about this little patch of shadow, especially the way it appears to wave and flick.

Ivorile would move to look out the little slit that the cat had offered him a peek out of. He would move over to it, and glare out the window, being half-blind didn't help, but he did see a shape. "I can't see but a splotch of black on white." He would declare, before moving out of the way, giving the spot back to Orikahn. "I wouldn't be opposed to checking it out, a chance is a chance." he nodded, before looking down at his sword, then back a the slit, though not out it of course, the great white mass was...confusing. "No problem at all..." He quietly spoke, his voice trailing off as he did so, suddenly remembering the intense boredom and such of his situation. "..Hrm.." He would murmur, albeit the first time in quite a while, it would probably still seem ordinary coming out of him.

Orikahn needs no further encouragement. Hastily, he sets his untouched chipmunk down next to the spit with the others. Snatching up his bow and visor, the massive cat shifts to crawl his way out through the waiting door, disappearing through the wolfskin flap. Emerging on the other side, he crouches low and strings up his bow, already advancing in a cautious crouch toward the distant shadow…

Ivorile eagerly watched as Orikahn made a move on the strange shape in the distance, it was quite exciting, even though there was still the nagging thought that it could just be another shadow. He shook his head, shaking away any negative thoughts, he was already depressed from the lack of sun, what he didn't need was something else bringing him down. He would stare at the shape, unable to see any fine details, wondering what it was, was it the monster? Who knew.

Open Snowfield

Orikahn crawls up a shallow slant on his elbows and abdomen, inching up just high enough to peer over the upper edge of the subtle dip in the terrain, his visored face lifting to dare a peek over the earthy, snowstrewn lip. Close enough to be clearly seen, the shadowy spot reveals its true form: a pair of massive horns attached massive, white, woolly bull, every bit the size of a mammoth. It stomps, cracking the permafrost and sending palpable reverberations through the earth as it breaks up a piece of lichen-rich earth with its hoof and bends down to graze. Thus far, the gargantuan beast seems unaware of the approaching hunters. "The 'R'-rock." Kahn barely dares to breathe its name. There is another thunderous crack as the massive bovine strikes the earth again, freeing up more ground as it continues happily (albeit destructively) feasting. Orikahn is either utterly awestruck or lost in plotting and contemplation; not even his tail dares to twitch.

Ivorile crept along with his friend, until he finally saw the beast, a new fire seemed to ignite in his eyes, as he grinned at the creature, though of course he did so quietly. No need to scare it off now. The paladin would be next to Kahn, and would grin at the hunter, as he peered at the beast. He reached an arm down to grab his rusty-blade, to not scare the creature, though he remembered the fate of the iron blade, it was half the length, but the break was quite sharp, giving him an idea. He would nudge the hunter, "What's the plan friend?" he asked as quietly as he could, whispering so quietly he almost couldn't hear it himself.

Orikahn slowly, carefully draws his bow down from his shoulder holster, taking up the arduous task of silently, discreetly shifting himself into a suitable ambush position, getting his bow and arrow out in front of himself and working one armored leg up beneath his body so he can be ready to spring up and draw when the time comes. He speaks as he awkwardly, soundlessly adjusts. "I go for the eyes, you go for the liver." Orikahn reiterates the plan, then elaborates. "It might be afraid of you, maybe, but it won't run away, because it is confident it can kill you." The earth rumbles a little more as it roots around with a hoof the size of a tree stump, a leg the size of a trunk. "Deep, on the side of the beast, midway between the shoulder and the hip." The spot Kahn has described is at least twelve feet off the ground. "I will try and draw its attention with my arrows." The cat looks to Ivorile for acknowledgement.

Ivorile looked over to his ally and gave him a wide smile. "Of course my friend." He whispered, as he also prepared to spring up, his eyes on were the liver should be. He then had a sudden idea, and would reach into his pack, which he would set down after retrieving an item of course. It was a shabby, rusty, mallet. He would hold it in one hand, with his broken sword in the other. "I feel creative today." He spoke silently, and would spring into action the moment Kahn did, ready to charge at the side of the beast, and hopefully, remove said liver with much prejudice.

Orikahn waits and watches, following the auroch's gestures intently as his tail begins to twitch again. "If I die in this fight, friend, leave me frozen here. Carry back the head first." The cat's hips adjust, shifting a bit, bring his weight up just a little farther before he hisses a simple, sharp "now!" through the icy air. In one, contiguous, sinuous motion, Kahn raises up and fires. The arrow has but an instant to glint in the sunlight, a mere flicker before it lodges itself deep in the auroch's nose. Trained not to hesitate, Kahn does not stop his assault, already drawing again as quickly as he is able and taking another shot for the eye, narrowly missing this time, embedding his flint deep in the monster's brow. Barely comprehending enough to react, the auroch has raised its head to bellow, and Kahn roars in return. "Kill me!" The cat taunts it and shoots. "Kill *me!*" Again, Kahn emphasizes as the beast bucks and lowers its head, thundering toward the armored cat, its mighty horns close to the ground.

Ivorile begins to run towards the beast, making a very wide arc to the left, allowing him plenty of room to go undetected, as well as a position in which he could try to remove the liver, as he was instructed. He would run along, glancing over at it ran towards Orikahn, now was his chance! He would dash towards the beast, being freakishly fast as he was, it still appeared he was going to have issues catching up with the giant cow, well, without getting trampled. So he just stayed as close to the beast's leg as he could, broken sword in one hand, hammer in the other.

Orikahn is a flurry of motion. His bow gives another sharp 'ting' as his fourth arrow flies. In the middle of the charge, it's difficult to tell where or whether the cat has struck. Like a great, iron meteor, the mighty cow barrels down toward him, but Kahn is unflinching. The yards between the two are rapidly closing, and by now the auroch has no doubt reached its full momentum. It snorts blood and steam. Shattered craters form its wake. Ivorile's approach provokes no deviation from the giant bovine, no change in course. One horn scrapes the tundra, gouging out a dark line and sending up a brief, violent spray of snow, soil, and gravel. Kahn spares himself a second to aim, waiting to see the 'whites of their eyes.' There's no time for a wasted shot now. Orikahn's strategy depends on speed and surprise; if the beast isn't dead in the next few moments, the battle could take a tragic turn. Much now depends on the hunters' accuracy.

Ivorile would finally catch up to the beast, just as they made enough speed to escape him, any longer and he wouldn't have caught on. Though, as he made the leap, the broken sword would catch the beast's leg, giving the paladin a spot of purchase. He would then smash the hilt with his hammer, driving the broken blade in to the hilt, before he would use the beast's exterior as an area to grip, climbing, using his broken sword as a foothold. Upon standing on it, he would put a hand on his sword, but would then look a Orikahn. Bad use of the blade could leave to dire consequences, so he would just keep his hand on the hilt, watching Orikahn, he had to dodge at some-point, and the moment he did, the auroch would feel a sharp pain in his lower abdomen.

Orikahn sees the beast is not yet slowing, and he has to make a split second judgement call. Distracted, he fires, and the arrow sails again to imbed itself deep in the auroch's cheek. Now sporting arrows above and below the eye, the great ox's face is a mess of running blood, a fearsome, gruesome visage so very rapidly approaching Kahn's position. There is no time for another shot. The cat scrambles, kicking with all his might to dash and roll, his armored body tumbling aside in a roiling heap. The horn misses him narrowly enough to catch his foxskin quiver by the strap, ripping it neatly away with a puny 'pop', throwing it in the air and scattering Kahn's razor-sharp arrows across the permafrost. The cat scarcely has time to notice, for he is scrambling again, boots scraping against the snowy, icy ground, thrashing until he gains his traction and sprints. Now, with split second to think again, he curses and draws a primitive dagger, complete with stone head and feathered tassels. Casting his bow far to the side, letting it skid to join the scattered arrows, it's now Kahn's turn to circle around, sure to observe the effects of Ivorile's attack and, if necessary, ready to dash back into the fray.

Ivorile saw Orikahn finally get out of the beast's path. He knew now was the time to strike. "Look away!" He called to the hunter, as he finally drew his blade. Waves of radiant light would burst from the blade, washing over the scenery, blinding onlookers. He would then grip the beast as hard as he could, aiming the tip of the blade into the creatures side, reeling up to strike, then plunging into the creature, pressing and pushing as hard as he could, aiming to drive the blade keep into the guts of auroch, perhaps it would finally meet its end. As if Ivorile failed his attack, it would be very easy for him to fall off.

Orikahn hears Ivorile's words and listens. Having learned a painful lesson last time, Kahn looks away, hurriedly shielding his face in the crook of his elbow. Even so guarded, he can see the dazzling light washing over the ground around his boots. The auroch rears, bellowing a deep, echoing cry, and it bucks, one end after another, to throw Ivorile from its back. As the beast tosses, kicks, and rocks its body, it throws large splatters and droplets too, flinging them in long, dotted, crimson stripes across the trampled ground. The glowing sword so plunged, Kahn has an opportunity now to look again, and he rushes in, keeping a few paces back from the great, bucking monster, but ready nonetheless to jump in and drag the knight away from the trampling hooves should he lose his grip and fall. Even as the feline approaches, the thrashes are growing weaker, and it raises its neck again in anguish, revealing an arrow lodged in the tender flesh of its throat. Red froth is gathering around its mouth, and each snort is accompanied by a noisy spray of droplets that dust the snow a vivid red.

Ivorile looked down, it was the only way he could get away safely, maybe if he just- at that moment the beast bucked furiously, losing his grip on the sword, he would fall to the ground, the blade still lodged deep in the side of the bleeding monster. The knight would hit the ground with a thud, seeing...sparkles...and black fog.... He shook his head, trying to get past the feeling of being dazed. Ivorile of course would need the help from Kahn, which he would fully comply with if was so presented to him. The knight would cringe in pain, a sudden wave of it washing over him, the only thing he could see was waves of red and black, nothing in sight, no sign of hope.

Orikahn ducks in to try and break the knight's fall, but the auroch's violent bucking interferes, and Kahn flinches as Ivorile lands. The next second, and his grip is firm on the paladin's shoulder, dragging the human hurriedly away from the calamitous crashing and tumultuous thrashing, hauling him along at a quick skid and eventually setting him down several yards away. The cat sheathes his dagger to give Rile a congratulatory pat on his other shoulder. Meanwhile, the beast is pawing, kicking, and throwing its head in confusion. A great, red stain has already soaked through the white, woolly hair surrounding the deep stab wound, saturating the auroch's coat and dripping freely to the ground. Another loud snort, a choked bellow, and mighty bovine's front leg kicks out from beneath it, all it's weight coming down as it crashes, landing solidly on its chin. The body bounces once, then lays still in a gathering pool of red. "Hah! We've done it, Rile! Look." Kahn taps Ivorile's shoulder again. "Gather yourself and look! Rile?"

Ivorile would raise his head as he was pulled away, trying to make sense of what was going on through the pain in his head, as well as the border-line concussion he received. "Look...huh?" He muttered as he saw the beast being felled by their effort. Then it collapsed on the ground, making quite a noise. "Sword..." Ivorile would quietly state, before attempting to get up, and failing miserably. "Damn..." He murmured, until he just took a knee, and tried to watch the beast as it died at last, putting their hunt to a close. "Yes...." He murmured one last time, before dumbly grinning.

Orikahn sees the knight coming to his senses. He straightens puffs out his chest, setting his hands proudly on his hips and looking utterly pleased with himself. Then, in wide, bouncy strides, he jogs over to the fallen beast and, taking out his dagger once more, reaches under the auroch's head to carve a neat line clear across its throat as a final, precautionary blow, rendering the beast 'officially' slain. Withdrawing his blood-soaked gauntlet, Kahn eagerly climbs up the slain bovine's side and, ever so delicately and careful to shield his eyes, he slides the paladin's sword free, lifting it out from the auroch's hide and giving it a good, quick swing to fling off any excess gore. A couple quick wipes on a clean patch of hide, and the cat hops down, his face turned away from the sword's light in obvious aversion. "Would you care," Kahn offers it back to Ivorile handle first, holding it loosely by the blade, "to do the honors?"

Ivorile took the blade, a wide grin on his face, as he managed to stand up. "No my friend. It is you struck the killing blow, you who tracked the beast, and you who kept us well fed during those few cold days." Ivorile smiled. "Whatever honors here..." He took the blade, and sheathed it in it's master-crafted scabbard. "Are ALL yours." He would chuckle, his own hands already on his hips by the time he spoke. The paladin took a step back, and looked over at the beast, grinning at it's carcass. "What a beast it was..." He chimed, before falling silent, grinning at the beast's corpse.

Orikahn laughs. "Hah!" He points at the broad, now rusty red swath that still soaks through the fallen beast's fur. "Not to quibble, but the killing blow was yours! And," the cat rounds on Rile, facing directly at him and pointing down at the knight as he breaks into a backward trot toward the beast, "I'll say, in terms of bravery, it was *you* who bore the savage share!" Drawing out his dagger for the third time, he turns around as he trots, jogging up to the side of the great, fallen animal. Apparently, even in light of his protests, Kahn still won't turn down Ivorile's offer. He wraps his arm as far around the freakishly large nose as he can, getting it some near semblance of a headlock as he works, slicing away the flesh one layer at a time until, at last, he must set down the dagger for a similarly primitive tomahawk (for the spine). While Kahn hacks industriously away, a faint sound drifts over the field, something not unlike a high braying or a bleating, some sort of course, plaintive, animal cry. The focused Kahn doesn't seem to notice and is, in fact, chanting quietly to himself as he works.

Ivorile waved off Kahn's remark. "No my friend, I did as you instructed me, it could have just as easily been you." He would then simply stand there as the hunter got to work, the paladin didn't exactly know what was going on, simply that it involved skinning the beast...possibly. Then there was a weird sound, some kind of...animal cry? The knight tried to shake it off. "So, aha, how much jerky do you thing this beast?" he would chuckle nervously, quietly gulping, before he finally couldn't shake the oddity. "So...that noise." He calmly stated, scratching the back of his head, and quietly sniffing. "Something...dangerous?" He would remark, before falling into silence.

Orikahn hacks and chops and chants and murmurs until, at last, there is a sickening crack of splintering bone and the head falls off, the severed neck landing on the ground with a smushy thud. Kahn staggers a little with the weight and drags it backwards a couple paces, demonstrating the head is very clearly and completely separated, save for a few threads of gore. The strange bleating sounds again, and Kahn perks up, dropping the head, then looking to Rile. The bloodsoaked cat pauses and then lifts his visor, revealing an expression of confusion and concern. "I don't know." Tugging down his hood, he frees his ears to stand upright and swivel, perking and twitching this way and that. "From the ruins?" Kahn looks across the field, and sure enough, what looks like an oversized calf is staggering toward them, still hundreds and hundreds of feet away. Its gait is unsteady, and it teeters a little as it walks. Again, it bleats its coarse, oddly resonant cry.

Ivorile seems to appear from out of nowhere, spontaneously generating next to you. Ivorile looked over at the calf, a blank expression on his face. "Hrmm." He chided in, not actually saying anything. He would take a step back from the over-sized calf, and would then glance at Orikahn, giving him nothing more than a shrug. He knew nothing of it, but he had some speculation of what it was. So he simply stood there, not saying a word, not even praising the sun. Quite a rare occasion.

Orikahn finds himself similarly speechless as the calf made its long approach across the field. At first it appears its little staggers and stumbles could merely be attributed to infantile inexperience, perhaps that the creature is not quite used to walking, but one familiar with such beasts of hoof might remind themselves that such animals seem to be born with an innate knack for walking. "Is it injured?" Kahn offers, speaking up and glancing back to the knight. The calf draws nearer still. As a paladin of the sun, there stands a fair chance that Ivorile may be the first to notice something is clearly off. Regardless, even without one's holy senses, the first really good look at the animal will tell all. Its eyes are sunken deep, and wide, hairless patches of dark, necrosis have spread to cover a significant portion of its body. A thick cloud of flies becomes audible just as the pungent scent of rot strikes their noses. It bleats again, and white maggots tumble out past a blue, swollen tongue. Kahn is dragging his severed trophy away as quickly as he can, which it turns out isn't actually that quickly, and he leaves a wide swath of red behind himself. "Bad juju!" The cat shouts between grunts of exertion, and he digs his armored fingers into the head's increasingly slippery hide. "Bad, bad juju!"

Ivorile looked over at the off calf, and glared at it, squinting as he stared deep into its sunken eyes. "Maggots...rot...filth!" the paladin cried. He would immediately draw his sword, blinding rays cast in all directions. His eyes twitched, as he moved in a very strange way, instead of his normal stoic manner, his movements...were unrefined. "...Miasma of darkness!" He would run up to it, not even thinking a second before he would drive the glowing blade down onto the head of the calf. It was a sloppy overhead chop, the sword was blessed with the power of destroying evil, and banishing darkness. It excelled against foul intent.

Orikahn does not relinquish his grip on the head, nor does the predator cease attempting to drag it (slowly) away, but he wastes no time scrunching his eyes shut as soon as he sees the telltale rays of light dancing around the scenery, a giveaway that the paladin has drawn his sword again. The calf, on the other hand, glances up toward the light, it's mouth dropping open in another bleat that is choked off by the intensity of the rays, searing blisters boiling over every inch of skin the light touches, soon charring and crisping. The swing, though perhaps clumsier than the paladin's usual, makes its mark, and the beast it cleanly decapitated. Even before the head strikes the frosty soil, its bodily decomposition has rapidly accelerated, turning to bones, soil, and churning worms in a matter of seconds. Poking out from the filth by a couple exposed ventricles, the gangrenous heart still beats, enveloped in a green, miasmatic aura. Kahn stumbles as he reaches the lip in the soil, stumbling down the shallow ditch in which they had planned their ambush earlier. He tumbles with a clatter. "The trophy!" Kahn cries as he rolls. The head lays safely atop the ridge

Ivorile stared down at the heart, a completely blank stare on his face, that ever so slowly turned a bit...darker. As he heard Kahn, he would shake his head, and start to move towards him, but would take one last look at the heart, then go. He would walk over to the trophy, grabbing it firmly, and then looking over at Kahn. "Are you okay friend?" he asked, suddenly seeming quite optimistic. "Did you sprain anything? I can fetch you a splint..." He glanced around the field. "I think I could find some study sticks..." he pondered, as he made sure the trophy was also unharmed, it had been quite a bit of effort getting it after all. "Anything at all?" He finally called. He would have stopped paying attention to the heart, almost as if he never knew it was there, he was quite strange, after all.

Orikahn hops up to his feet and kicks off the snow, looking across the field, then to Ivorile, panic lingering in his expression. "But what about-" his visor interrupts him, falling over his face with a metallic clank. The cat begins trudging back up the shallow ridge, "What about the bad juju calf?" Craning his neck, he peers out to see the churning pile of warm, steaming earth and bones. "That's it there?" Following Rile's lead, he grabs the trophy head by the other side. "No time for wounds, Rile. No time!" He heaves his half of the scull. "Let's get this back to Frostmaw." Orikahn nod with enthusiasm, then grunts again, gripping by one horn and one side of the lower jaw, trying to hoist the horn up onto his shoulders, hoping Ivorile follows suit. "We have much to report. Ooof!" The horn settles firmly on his shoulder, and the cat must center his support beneath it.

Ivorile sighed, and seemed like he had an idea. "One moment..." He called out, before heading over to the beheaded corpse of the super-cow, where he would plunge his broken sword into the beast, taking a few minutes, carving away. Then he would cease, and hold out a sloppily-cut piece of skin, bloody, with long locks of fur. He would walk back over to Orikahn. "I have to replace my coat, just because the giant's gone, doesn't mean he didn't take my only coat!" He would laugh heartily, before placing himself under the horn of the beast, the one opposite of Kahn. Though, he would find it a much more difficult task, since, well, he was smaller, and plenty weaker. "Alright!" he yelled as he heaved. "Lets go!" he shouted, and would start walking as soon as Kahn did.