Deerfield disliked insects and everything that had more than four legs, especially when they appeared in seemingly countless numbers. He didn't want to dislike any form of life, but basically, he did. He couldn't ignore them, but he would leave them be if they left him.
He kept a ready stance, awaiting to strike down a magic wielding foe at any moment. However, he was focused on the path. Even when he heard sounds from the brush on the right, he didn't fully turn towards it. He was startled and fear gripped him a bit already, mainly because of the big unknown. But he remained combat ready along the path, being the first in line.
It seemed awefully quiet otherwise, but more concerning to him was the smell he was perceiving.
If something came from the side, he relied on the men behind him who he thought knew more about the dangers that could come from the warped green. It's not like he would leave the trail that quickly, anyway.
He walked on carefully, as long as he could sense the next man behind him.
Last Edit: Jan 28, 2014 13:41:44 GMT -5 by Deerfield
She started dancin' real slow, like she was puttin' on a show.
Wet sweat was pourin' off her skin, her body made me wanna sin.
Right then my buzz was kickin' in, she had a devil's grin.
She looked me in the eye and said: You give me the urge!
To do a little day drinkin'
A little bit of love makin'
A whole lot of world shakin'
'Cause it's never too late to get low down dirty!
Lynyrd Skynyrd - Low Down Dirty
Miroslaw nodded to Alexander, agreeing to waiting till they leave. He goes they were as leisure on there way from this desecrated pace as they are entering.
He started close behind as they pressed forward through the ill Forest. Miroslaw's face showed how disgusted he was by the mutated beetles. Their size was unlike any bug he has seen before. It must be a side effect of the magic that polluted the forest. Her was not looking guard to encountering organisms more hostile than beetles.
As Miroslaw heard the noise at the trails bend, her pulled his arrow back and trained it on the area the noise came from. He would continue to follow the group if they continue to move with his sights maintaining on the sound of the rustling. If anything comes into his sights, fear would not allow him to hesitate, no matter what reveals itself.
Last Edit: Jan 29, 2014 15:39:31 GMT -5 by Miroslaw
Death is no more than turning us over from time to eternity. Whether that eternity is damnation or salvation is determined in the time we have.
He couldn't help but be slightly distracted by the fascinating wild life now showing itself. Mostly the insects. 'I wonder if they are poisonous, carnivorous perhaps?' he thought to himself. If the bugs were this large, what about the larger game animals or predators? He didn't stray from the group but as the bushes started to rustle. He tightens his fists, waiting to pounce at what pops out. 'Humanoid? Maybe a shaman for those totems, though it could be an animal...' He trailed off in his head.
::Even Alexander was tense. His arms thrown free of his cloak as he turned and began to draw on the shadows that littered the forest floor.
As if the corrupted forest wished to answer the unspoken question of Zalini, the rustling in the brush grew louder and closer. Up from amid the mass of thorns and brush lept a squirrel...
Or at least it looked vaguely like a squirrel...
It was the size of a healthy house cat and had boney ridges that trailed along its spine. Long claws could be seen as it landed on the trunk of a nearby tree and began to scurry up towards the safety of the branches above.
As the creature neared its goal, there came the soft rush of wind over the party's heads and suddenly the thing let out a cry as it was pinned to the bark by an arrow.
Alexander spun about to look behind, where the arrow had seemingly come from. Dark eye searching the dense growth for any sign of the attacker.
A voice filled with hate came from the trees opposite of where the arrow had flown::
"Drop your weapons, intruders! We will not allow you to defile our home!"
My first thought was, he lied in every word, That hoary cripple, with malicious eye Askance to watch the workings of his lie On mine, and mouth scarce able to afford Suppression of the glee, that pursed and scored Its edge, at one more victim gained thereby.
Miroslaw saw the squirrel emerge from the brush and was able to swallow his fear and stay his arrow. His control over his fear was quickly gone when the squirrel was pinned to a tree by a foreign arrow instead.
Miroslaw did precisely as Alexander did, immediately pivoting to see if he could spot the squirrel slayer. Just as he did he heard the angry voice speak. He scanned the area from which the voice came from, but, he unstrung his arrow and held both hands up in the air, arrow in his right, bow in the other. He was not about to die to something he could not see when it may be defensive, rather than hostile. If he was truly aggressive, that well aimed shot at the squirrel could be in his back right now.
Death is no more than turning us over from time to eternity. Whether that eternity is damnation or salvation is determined in the time we have.
Deerfield was already blending the noise from his perception, so he didn't even see the animal. He did however notice the arrow whistling above as well as the members of his party reacting to the voice shouting at them.
He instinctively tried to duck behind the tree trunks or brush and went surprisingly low towards the ground, but continued to creep a bit along the way, not back, even if he gained a bit of distance to the others. He did try to remain close to Alucard, though. He laughed louder than he wanted when the voice had finished, and added beneath his breath, so that the party could hear him, but in a normal case probably not their foes, "Pfff, if these guys can really call this gorge of repulsiveness home, I doubt we are able to defile it in any way." Then he said a bit louder, directed towards the voice, "Should we understand this behavior to be the local version of hospitality? You walk through and scout the woods and have to fear aboriginal paranoia?"
He gripped his sword tighter as Miroslaw seemingly surrendered. He refused to put himself into the hand of beings he hadn't even seen yet. "Show yourselves!"
She started dancin' real slow, like she was puttin' on a show.
Wet sweat was pourin' off her skin, her body made me wanna sin.
Right then my buzz was kickin' in, she had a devil's grin.
She looked me in the eye and said: You give me the urge!
To do a little day drinkin'
A little bit of love makin'
A whole lot of world shakin'
'Cause it's never too late to get low down dirty!
Lynyrd Skynyrd - Low Down Dirty
Mutt's face was full of shock at the mutated squirrel. "H-how, did..." Was all he could muster, letting down his guard entirely at the sight. How did anyone pull this off? Magic? It had to be, only magic could cause this wide spread mutation in the flora and fauna of this forest. Being the last to turn to the voice, his hands were at his sides. His eyes scanning the woods, wanting to keep turning around to the mutated critter. "I...how is was this done?" He couldn't help but ask. It took him a moment to realize just what was going on, finally noticing the arrow that had whizzed by him.
::Alexander stood his ground, staring off into the trees in the direction the voice had come from. He made no hostile move, but did not show defeat either. He allowed the visible workings of his magic to disipate, but only to give him the energy to work more subtle Arts...
He was searching... Shifting his senses to the dappled shadows that filled the forest before him in and attempts to find there shape and therefore the humanoid void that whould be somewhere within.
Such work took alot of concentration, so he did not answer back to the voice, nor speak to the rest of the party.::
::Meanwhile, voices called out from the trees on either side in alternating fashion.::
"Stupid apes! You tell them to drop their weapons and they raise them up!"
"Or drop their whole bodies!"
"They speak of hospitality, yet I wonder..."
"Would they like it if we came into their homes unannounced and go through their things?"
"Greet their family?"
::Laughter from both sides.::
"I think not."
"Two stand too dumbfounded to act."
"Or is that pride?"
"That one's a coward."
"Only that one seems to have some fight in him."
"All the more reason their kind should be purified and remade."
"Aye, they want to know our secrets, I say we show them."
::All in all you're pretty sure you picked out 3, maybe 4 different voices in all, spread between both sides of the path.
The trees rustle as one figure drops down to the ground on either side. As they rise to look at the party, you see elves like you have never seen before...
Limp dark hair hangs long on their heads. Their armor appears to be made of wood and bone, with sharp spikes portruding out like those seen on the bushes before. Their skin is a mottled red and green.
Hatred burns in their eyes as they each sling bows on their backs and draw swords from their waist.
The two advance on the party from either side.::
"Drop your weapons."
"We will not say it again."
My first thought was, he lied in every word, That hoary cripple, with malicious eye Askance to watch the workings of his lie On mine, and mouth scarce able to afford Suppression of the glee, that pursed and scored Its edge, at one more victim gained thereby.
Deerfield laughed to himself when he heard them speaking their rubbish. He yelled, in a friendly matter still, "If you bastards came into my home, I'd offer you a cup of milk and pastries."
When the two elves came down from the trees, Deerfield continued "That's what my mother taught me, but I guess your mothers couldn't stand the sight of your ugly faces!"
Then, in response to the last threat, as he ran towards the elf who was on the side of the trail where the wildlife was pinned to the tree, "Aye, you bags of pigshite. I'll drop my weapon right into your filthy mouths, then you won't say anything no more!"
He darted towards the elf as fast as he could while remaining as low as possible, which was about the height of his hip. He didn't expect that shabby armor to be that resilient. He hacked at his enemy to be from an upper right angle, ready to hammer the elf's weapon down incase it was moved into his direction.
This elf was going to die in Deerfield's imagination, he did not hesitate. These beings showed no manners or hospitality, only aggression. So he was going to play their game.
She started dancin' real slow, like she was puttin' on a show.
Wet sweat was pourin' off her skin, her body made me wanna sin.
Right then my buzz was kickin' in, she had a devil's grin.
She looked me in the eye and said: You give me the urge!
To do a little day drinkin'
A little bit of love makin'
A whole lot of world shakin'
'Cause it's never too late to get low down dirty!
Lynyrd Skynyrd - Low Down Dirty
Miroslaw waited patiently and calmly for the enemies to show themselves. He felt perspiration building up on the palms of his hands, which always caused an odd feeling with his gloves. As the hidden folk conversed, he counted the voices very carefully, four by his count. He remained completely silent, showing no signs of aggression. His bow remained in the air despite their words of antagonism.
Finally, as one of them dropped down next to him, he had a chance to see the elves. Their grotesque shape made Miroslaw grimace at the sight, but he remained calm and collected. He quickly brought his hands together, stringing the arrow and pointing it at the enemy. He loosed an arrow directed at the right knee of the unnatural elf. At the same time, he slowly walked backwards, attempting to maintain some distance from the elf. He was careful to go around Alexander rather than run into him.
This trip was for research. If Miroslaw could capture one of these creatures alive, he would surely have the information he sought. He knew there were two more in the forest with bows likely trained on the party. Being unable to spot them, there was not much he could do about it, so his focus remained on the one at hand.
Death is no more than turning us over from time to eternity. Whether that eternity is damnation or salvation is determined in the time we have.
Mutt raised his fists as the first elf showed himself. 'These are mutated too? What is going on here? If they changed their physical appearance or is there more underneath the protrusions and twisted visages? Being increasingly curious it was hard to take a combat stance as he wanted to observe learn and maybe ask questions. 'This...is...' "Amazing..." he said the last part as his mind began to wander and attempt to scan the area and try spot out the other elves. 'Disease maybe?' He asked himself before shaking his head and putting up his fists as to not look even more useless within his own party.
::Alexander had blocked out what was going on around him. He barely heard the quips of the elves and the response of one of his own party members. He only faintly registered the movement of the elves as they dropped from above. His senses were busy on another plane...::
"I have found you."
::He said, in barely a whisper, as the pattern of shadows revealed one of the hidden archers still lurking above. He poured his disgust into the shade about the creature as the shadows sharpened and extended like as many blades, driving inward upon the hidden foe.
The result was a cry of anguish and a loosed arrow flying wild over his own head. No doubt he was to have been the intended target. However the shot had been disrupted by his attack, and the archer was now tumbling from the tree to the brush below.::
::Meanwhile, the rest of the party was attacking as well...
Deerfield moved through the brush as the long thorns caught and pulled at his armor and scratched his skin. The elf before him gave only a sneer as he advanced as well, his own blade drawn. The elf met Deerfields downward blow with his own blade, pushing the weapon to the side as he stepped forward in a rush to slam his shoulder into Deerfield. The thin spines of the elf's armor scratched at the armor and a few found the flesh beneath. However the hurried attack snapped them off as the elf winced as if in pain. At this close range, you can see small portrusions along the brow of the elf, like small versions of the thorns along its body.
Miroslaw aimed his bow at the elf advancing on the other side. ((Assuming you were targeting different elves, but let me know if I was wrong and I'll correct.)) The arrow flew true, but the elf had alread begun to rush forward. Instead of hitting the knee like planned, the shaft drove into the meat of the thigh above. The elf stumbled, but did not stop, as he raised his blade and continued to advance on the exposed back of Alexander.
Zalini, a bit awestruck by the appearance of the elves and the world about him, readied himself to defend against the foes approaching on the ground, but did not move. This made him an excellent target for the elf still hiding among the trees. Pain blossomed in his shoulder as an arrow struck him, driving deep into the unarmored flesh.::
My first thought was, he lied in every word, That hoary cripple, with malicious eye Askance to watch the workings of his lie On mine, and mouth scarce able to afford Suppression of the glee, that pursed and scored Its edge, at one more victim gained thereby.
Deerfield merely clenched his teeth at the scratches and piercings of thorns. He would be able to handle it as long as it didn't rrive at an excessive amount. Even when he got rammed by the elf's shoulders, he didn't lose his combat focus, though it did indeed inflict a certain extent of pain.
When he saw those thorns growing out of his enemy's brow, he frowned in disgust as he wrapped his left arm around him ...or it. In connection with the wince of pain while the thorns on the shoulder snapped off, it didn't take large mind leaps to deduct that the thorns on the thing's entire body were actually part of the organism and not just armor covering it. He risked further injuries and tried to squeeze in the elf's swordarm as well, hoping to snap more of those thorns off as his fist skidded along the armors surface. Moving his arm around, the desired effect was similar to rubbing salt off a pretzel. He did try to keep his pelvis away from the action though.
Deerfield himself had his sword in his right hand, which was now free, but too close to effectively use the big blade.
"You ugly treelover..." he murmered as he attempted to punch his foe in the face, with the swordhandle protection (the metalwork crossing the handle-blade line) aimed at those thorns on the brow.
Next he would pull the sword back to his right, but not before trying to get its blade under the elf's chin to slit his throat; but slicing through the face would prove satisfying as well.
Last Edit: Feb 4, 2014 17:45:43 GMT -5 by Deerfield
She started dancin' real slow, like she was puttin' on a show.
Wet sweat was pourin' off her skin, her body made me wanna sin.
Right then my buzz was kickin' in, she had a devil's grin.
She looked me in the eye and said: You give me the urge!
To do a little day drinkin'
A little bit of love makin'
A whole lot of world shakin'
'Cause it's never too late to get low down dirty!
Lynyrd Skynyrd - Low Down Dirty
Miroslaw's attention stayed on the elf that was now charging Alexander. He was completely unaware of what was happening behind him, but trusted the two in front could hold one of them. Judging by Alexanders mumbling and stoic demeanor, Miroslaw assumed he was using his magic for something. Alexander didn't seem the character to be stunned in the midst of battle.
Miroslaw, despite missing his shot, was slightly aghast that his arrow lacked a result other than the bit of staggering. These elves were clearly more resilient than that average ones. He didn’t like whatever magic they were using. He wondered if it had some other effect besides the mutations. Perhaps it was the cause of their blood-crazed vigor.
Miroslaw decided to stick to his bow for another shot. He comes to a stop, not wanting to move back into whatever was happening behind him. He was still intent on crippling the elf rather than killing it. After a simple, “Watch out Alexander” He launches off two more arrows in quick succession. One arrow was meant for the knee cap of the left leg and the other meant for the weapon arms elbow.
He knew the only reason it was still able to walk is because he missed. As soon as he lands one arrow that gets to the ligament behind the knee, the elf would go down in a blink of an eye.
Last Edit: Feb 5, 2014 12:19:08 GMT -5 by Miroslaw
Death is no more than turning us over from time to eternity. Whether that eternity is damnation or salvation is determined in the time we have.
Mutt hissed in paint, looking at the arrow that now made a rather painful home in his shoulder. 'Damn it..." he hiss out, he relaxed his hands and jumped forwards into a sprint at the nearest mutated elf, not the one Deerfield was currently battling. During his sprint he reeled back his right arm then thrust it forwards only forming a fist just before contact with the enemy, a bit of combat control is always good when in hand to hand. He tried to block out the pain from the arrow but sprinting like that made it hard, the arrow head tearing at the flesh turning his tattered clothes dark red.
These elves were heavily mutated, was it the bones that grew in mass that made them seem more durable? Did it affect their vision, ability to reason? Well, most Elves get touchy about their trees but this seemed different, wouldn't they strive for purity? This seems far out of realm of that.