(due to this rp being moved from somewhere else, posts from my partner will be noted with their username at the top for their posts that have been moved over.)
RustyFable
Northern Frontier Lands, Celestial Year 513
Thwah-crack! with a mighty sound that ripples throughout the forest an ax flies haphazardly through another log, its newly twined halves ricocheting from the blow. Twirling once, twice and then falling from the withering remnants the stump it'd been atop mere seconds before. Each piece thumping atop an ever-growing pile on either side. Winter was coming, there was already a nip in the air. In truth, some of this wood should've been chopped already. The cold seemed to come earlier out here, out of the corner of his eyes Yyjorn could already see leaves starting to turn. Hues of Golds, Yellows, and Oranges tickled the trees in between their normal vibrant greens. Heaving a sigh he slams the ax down burying its head deep into his make-shift work station.
With a grunt, he shifts his weight downwards buckling at the knees Yyjorn brings a great deal of his weight down. Taking care to gather up much of the wood it's a labor to return himself to a standing position, the additional mass sending his balance off-kilter. With a bit of extra effort he rises, grip on the wood tightening. "Fates above." His muttering is reduced to something more of a wheeze as he trudges to a nearby cabin, it was a small thing; one of many that dotted the landscape. There was a seldom spoke law amongst Monster Hunters observed by both those of the Guilds and Independent. If you are in need of rest and come across a lodge during your travels you are welcome to take shelter there.
It was an ancient saying that hunters were made to know by heart. While the original wording has been lost it went something along these lines; 'No man, nor women shall be barred from the protection of their fellow hunters. For we do not hunt as a matter of honor but rather as one of need. Taking up sword, shield, bow, and ax against those that would seek the destruction of humanity and her allies. So let the collective resources of those whom brave the wilderness and it's night not be stood alone in their hour of need.' It was a lot of fluffy and poetic wording that really boiled down to a simple meaning; if you'd go blade to teeth or claw with some hellish thing tore straight from a children's storybook or some long-forgotten myth then you'd have shelter scattered across the known world.
There's a crich-crunch beneath his boots as he trods along, sticks and leaves mixing together to create a soft but noticeable chorus. It made hunting in this season harder, while it was true most would see him as a 'monster hunter' people tended to dramatically under-estimate how smart some of the creatures that he hunted were. While it's true that beast like; Wargs, Basilisk, and other such critters were deemed as 'monsters' and hunted there were smarter creatures out there. Ones that were more dangerous, and in some cases organized.
It takes Yyjorn about ten minutes of stacking to re-supply the wood rack, tossing a few into the fire-place he groans. "Thul-mos-bvern." In a near whisper, he lets the words spill from his mouth, it was a simple spell that almost any mana-positive person could cast. While he was by no means a mage, nor a sorcerer or even a spell-weaver he did know some basic magicks. He scarcely knew fives spells, really he only used magic to make his pack lighter. He had no need to carry flint, nor any combustion-based light source. He didn't use his spells in combat so he could waste what little mana-reserves he'd fostered making camping and traveling easier. He snickered to himself at the thought of what a professional mage might say if they knew his thought process and how little he labored over magic.
However, he is pulled from his own musings when a scream cuts through the air. All at once ever sound besides fell silent, his ears perking seemingly tracing from what direction it had come. He'd just come indoors so it couldn't have been far off, after all, he'd not have been able to hear it at all had it been some great distance. These woods were dense and while leaves had begun to fall the trees were not so bare they couldn't muffle sounds. All the same, he sprung into action snatching his scabbard as he stomped out the door. Slamming it behind, causing the small shack to rattle as he did so.
RustyFable
Northern Frontier Lands, Celestial Year 513
Thwah-crack! with a mighty sound that ripples throughout the forest an ax flies haphazardly through another log, its newly twined halves ricocheting from the blow. Twirling once, twice and then falling from the withering remnants the stump it'd been atop mere seconds before. Each piece thumping atop an ever-growing pile on either side. Winter was coming, there was already a nip in the air. In truth, some of this wood should've been chopped already. The cold seemed to come earlier out here, out of the corner of his eyes Yyjorn could already see leaves starting to turn. Hues of Golds, Yellows, and Oranges tickled the trees in between their normal vibrant greens. Heaving a sigh he slams the ax down burying its head deep into his make-shift work station.
With a grunt, he shifts his weight downwards buckling at the knees Yyjorn brings a great deal of his weight down. Taking care to gather up much of the wood it's a labor to return himself to a standing position, the additional mass sending his balance off-kilter. With a bit of extra effort he rises, grip on the wood tightening. "Fates above." His muttering is reduced to something more of a wheeze as he trudges to a nearby cabin, it was a small thing; one of many that dotted the landscape. There was a seldom spoke law amongst Monster Hunters observed by both those of the Guilds and Independent. If you are in need of rest and come across a lodge during your travels you are welcome to take shelter there.
It was an ancient saying that hunters were made to know by heart. While the original wording has been lost it went something along these lines; 'No man, nor women shall be barred from the protection of their fellow hunters. For we do not hunt as a matter of honor but rather as one of need. Taking up sword, shield, bow, and ax against those that would seek the destruction of humanity and her allies. So let the collective resources of those whom brave the wilderness and it's night not be stood alone in their hour of need.' It was a lot of fluffy and poetic wording that really boiled down to a simple meaning; if you'd go blade to teeth or claw with some hellish thing tore straight from a children's storybook or some long-forgotten myth then you'd have shelter scattered across the known world.
There's a crich-crunch beneath his boots as he trods along, sticks and leaves mixing together to create a soft but noticeable chorus. It made hunting in this season harder, while it was true most would see him as a 'monster hunter' people tended to dramatically under-estimate how smart some of the creatures that he hunted were. While it's true that beast like; Wargs, Basilisk, and other such critters were deemed as 'monsters' and hunted there were smarter creatures out there. Ones that were more dangerous, and in some cases organized.
It takes Yyjorn about ten minutes of stacking to re-supply the wood rack, tossing a few into the fire-place he groans. "Thul-mos-bvern." In a near whisper, he lets the words spill from his mouth, it was a simple spell that almost any mana-positive person could cast. While he was by no means a mage, nor a sorcerer or even a spell-weaver he did know some basic magicks. He scarcely knew fives spells, really he only used magic to make his pack lighter. He had no need to carry flint, nor any combustion-based light source. He didn't use his spells in combat so he could waste what little mana-reserves he'd fostered making camping and traveling easier. He snickered to himself at the thought of what a professional mage might say if they knew his thought process and how little he labored over magic.
However, he is pulled from his own musings when a scream cuts through the air. All at once ever sound besides fell silent, his ears perking seemingly tracing from what direction it had come. He'd just come indoors so it couldn't have been far off, after all, he'd not have been able to hear it at all had it been some great distance. These woods were dense and while leaves had begun to fall the trees were not so bare they couldn't muffle sounds. All the same, he sprung into action snatching his scabbard as he stomped out the door. Slamming it behind, causing the small shack to rattle as he did so.