|
|
Post by EloHim on Jun 6, 2019 9:34:08 GMT -8
/Volundr/
He runs. As the spear flies by he slows down... He acknowledges the noises now. The squealing.
Fuck. That soon after the bloody flesh-eaters. Now there were pig-monsters. Great. Bloody perfect. And run a tad bit too far to reach the bastard. Those two others provided some distraction. Good. The bastard was in one place... Gods, why didn't he brought his axes? Dammit. He hoped Thor was really with him for this one, else he might consider himself to be an idiot.
He takes aim, and with a strong throw sends the hammer flying trough the air, straight at the pig. The hit lands square in the head and sends the ugly fat monstrosity straight into the mouth of Hel. Figuratively speaking, of course. The fact was - it's skull was now a mess of broken bone and splattered brain with the hammer wedged right in the middle.
The pig falls down. Volundr walks up to the corpse and takes the hammer by the handle and pulls it out of the destroyed skull of the beast with a pleasant squish.
"A quick wash and roast and we have ourselves a perfect dinner." -he jokes, grinning. He does not bother to clean the hammer from the remains of the brain. Most likely it will become dirty again. Other pigs might join them.
"Right, now where's that Tirano... Lets hope the Bull knows how to kick pigs asses." - he says trying to hear for any more of the bulls roarings.
|
|
|
|
Post by Capster on Jun 6, 2019 9:38:38 GMT -8
Sarak nodded and said. "Right, where the hell did the farmer go?" Sarak asked as he himself went to retrieve the arrow that hit the pig in the shoulder. "...Honestly the smell of this pig is turning me off of pork entirely. But if we ain't getting a steak dinner. It'll do." He says trying to notice the sounds of the pissed off bull.
He looked around quietly as he wiped off the blood and gore off the arrowhead, quickly putting it back into his quiver before adding. "What the fuck is this town." A small comment not directed at anyone as he gave the pig a nudge with his feet.
|
|
|
|
Post by rosallora on Jun 6, 2019 10:20:59 GMT -8
"Whaddya mean where'd I go? I'm right here, sonny, you got any workin' eyes in that noggin?" Antioch plants the tines of his pitchfork momentarily in the muck, looking at the creature that Volundr had successfully hammered the brains out of. He whistles. "I mean I second cookin' this thing up. Talk about a roast! Heh, I'd wager it'd be real nice over a big ol' bonfire. Meat would fall right offa it!" He nudges the thing's carcass with his boot. "I'm for it. I'm real for it, I ain't even-"
In the midst of Antioch's talking, there's a roar and a rush of motion. From the direction where the bull had gone comes, surprisingly, the bull. Atop its back was some pig-man, a hook upon its hand sunk into the flesh of the animal, Tirano raging even harder than he had in the pen. He is a blur of motion, his midnight black coat glistening with sweat.
Antioch lets out a cry of surprise and anger, then, the bull rears up again. "RUN!"
The hooves crash to earth, the pig-man wildly squealing excitement from atop the monstrous thing as Tirano charges the group. The pig-man's pike in hand stabs for Arnulf, yet accomplishes little more than a bleeding scratch upon his cheek, bright red and angry as the bull. The pig warrior snorts, but as the bull frantically moves, it's clear he isn't in control. He's just as much along for the ride as any of them had been in the pen.
|
|
|
|
Post by Capster on Jun 7, 2019 10:37:14 GMT -8
Sarak watched the pig riding the bull, his face contorted into disgust as he watched the thing grappling the animal. He ducked at the way as the group was charged. Quickly knocking and drawing once more, Sarak took aim. His pupils widening, on release the arrow soared through the air, hitting the pig in the side of the torso, the arrow piecing through, a bloody broad head protruding through the body. It would be fatal, but the pig would be alive and kicking for a few hours or days if someone didn’t finish him off, or if he wasn’t bucked from the bull.
|
|
|
|
Post by EloHim on Jun 7, 2019 12:01:31 GMT -8
Volundr
"Now lets find that bull and bring that meat for grand roast to Vestalia... duhfuck?!!"
He barely made it away from a charging bull. Great. Now the beast was mounted. By a bloody pigman. Poor animal just cant avoid idiots climbing on his back.
He tries to hit the pigman...but honestly, his odds of hitting a rider with a hammer were slim to none anyway. The hit goes nowhere...He was just hoping that the arrows gonna finish the bastard off before he does any more damage.
|
|
|
|
Post by Bloodtrailkiller on Jun 9, 2019 14:33:54 GMT -8
/Arnulf/
Sweat on his brow, his head whipped about just quick enough to see the pike swipe at his face. Perhaps it was luck, perhaps it was Old Blood, but he tossed aside the arrow he'd planned to nock and winced as he felt the blood leave his cheek, arcing through the air in a dainty little trail; but Arnulf's swing came with aged fury.
With a bark of a bloodhound, his hand's let his bow slip so he might grip one end in both hands like some club. Foot back, he stepped forward just as the Bull began to carry the pig away from him and twisted his body with renewed vigor; blood ran hot in a wolf and a pig was nothing but prey to him.
The bow whipped through the air and smashed into the floating ribs of the creature riding the Bull with mad dog strength. Bones cracked, and flesh tore as the impact of the bow was only compounded by the bull rushing forward. The swine's squeal was music to the old dog's ears, and the sickening crunch and pop of the creature's spine breaking painted the picture clearly as his bow came through and bit into the dirt infront of him in an arc that mimed that which had flown from his cheek.
Blood burbled out from the Swine's mouth, from ruptured organs and snapped spine; its ride turned morbid as its upper torso was bent at a sudden and harsh angle, with its head bouncing along the back of the bull. The only thing holding the creature to the bull was the hook which still tore raggedly into its flesh.
Arnulf coughed and growled as the momentum of his swing was still a bit much for his old bones; making him stumble forward, almost eating dirt if he didn't push himself off the floor to make some distance from the Bull as he reaffirmed his grip on the bow...
The Hunt was still on.
|
|
|
|
Post by rosallora on Jun 9, 2019 14:50:45 GMT -8
"By God would you lookit that...!" Antioch gaped as the men took out the pig riding his bull, whistling as he yanks his pitchfork back up from the ground. "Sheeeit he's still hangin' on ain't he! Bastard pig! You let go a my Tirano!" Antioch takes a few purposeful steps forward, but it does little to nothing.
The bull bucks hard, the corpse ragdolling around on his back. The body completely turns over in the air, the hook tugging painfully at flesh as the pig lays on the bull's head instead. The resulting sound is like a beast out of hell, a thing of pain and anger and terror. The bull rushes into a tree, full speed, and the corpse becomes mincemeat against the bark, dragged against it gruesomely, blood spreading over brown-black bark and the body finally falling to the ground. The bull huffs heavily. Hot, tired breaths puff from its snout, the wound at the back of its neck trickling down its sweaty shoulder.
Antioch fumbles with the length of rope he had in hand, a lasso already tied and ready. He passes it off quickly to Arnulf, stepping forward at an even, practiced pace. "I'll calm him down - you get ready to rope him." The old man looks at the two younger ones, whippersnappers they were.
There's an uneasy sound in the forest - the greyed farmer grimaces outwardly. "You two, uh... clear the path back. We don't wanna run into any sorta trouble. Gotta keep this boy calm." Antioch gestures with his head towards Tirano.
|
|
|
|
Post by Capster on Jun 9, 2019 15:14:56 GMT -8
"By God would you lookit that...!" Antioch gaped as the men took out the pig riding his bull, whistling as he yanks his pitchfork back up from the ground. "Sheeeit he's still hangin' on ain't he! Bastard pig! You let go a my Tirano!" Antioch takes a few purposeful steps forward, but it does little to nothing. The bull bucks hard, the corpse ragdolling around on his back. The body completely turns over in the air, the hook tugging painfully at flesh as the pig lays on the bull's head instead. The resulting sound is like a beast out of hell, a thing of pain and anger and terror. The bull rushes into a tree, full speed, and the corpse becomes mincemeat against the bark, dragged against it gruesomely, blood spreading over brown-black bark and the body finally falling to the ground. The bull huffs heavily. Hot, tired breaths puff from its snout, the wound at the back of its neck trickling down its sweaty shoulder. Antioch fumbles with the length of rope he had in hand, a lasso already tied and ready. He passes it off quickly to Arnulf, stepping forward at an even, practiced pace. "I'll calm him down - you get ready to rope him." The old man looks at the two younger ones, whippersnappers they were. There's an uneasy sound in the forest - the greyed farmer grimaces outwardly. "You two, uh... clear the path back. We don't wanna run into any sorta trouble. Gotta keep this boy calm." Antioch gestures with his head towards Tirano. Sarak watched the older man toss his bow and risk it shattering with a bit of a grimace. But then he winced hearing the beasts wails, but he paused listening to the farmer. “Aye.” Was all he said as he looked to the forest and the other companion. “You lead the way, I am unfamiliar here, I can kill anything before it gets to you.” He explained as he knocked his bow, ready to draw and kill anything that exited the forest that was relatively beastlike. |
|
|
|
Post by EloHim on Jun 10, 2019 6:37:59 GMT -8
/Volundr/
"Great,one less to worry about."- he huffed out as the monster's body was finally removed from the beast's back. He was glad that Bull was now tired enough to not put each of them on his horns.
"Heh.Not like I ever was in this parts anyway... What's your name?"- he asks his companion, walking back the way they came here with his arms ready. Would be nice to kill another couple of pigmen just to make his day better. This...this was a proper work. Killing monsters. Like in his grandfather's stories. Not giants, of course, but who knows what kind of creatures might lurk in this godforsaken woods and dungeons.
The guy that was walking with him was new, that was so obvious he didn't even need to ask.
|
|
|
|
Post by Bloodtrailkiller on Jun 11, 2019 15:36:54 GMT -8
/Arnulf/
He sneered and gruffed a response to Antioch as he caught the rope, spitting a lob of exhaustive spit into the mud as he squared his shoulders and stalked about the Bull like a hound ought. He idly feels the Farmer's lasso loop, testing it lightly as he made himself low and prowled with more youth than one might suspect of his typical limping frame.
The Old Hunter spared his impromptu Ward in Sarak half a glance before sighing, the boy would do fine. He knew his bow, and that black-hand smith knew his hammer.
With some spite, he wondered how nicely this hunt would have been if even one proper adventurer had come along with them. The folk here were able bodied tradesmen at best, and too damn ready for retirement at worst; though he couldn't deny an innate trust in the Smith. Not just in his several sturdy strikes, but in his quiet strength; he'd have to remember to find a drink with the man sometime. Might be they can grouch together.
The Bull's heavy snort pulled the old dog back into focus, and he made slow easy twirls with the lasso in preperation to catch the bull once the beast was soothed.
He squinted at the piercing wound from the pig's hook, trying to gauge just how deep it had gone, how severe the damage was... if there was any refuse or pus leaking from the Bull. He'd heard grotesque tales of the Swine's Warrens... their recent attack brought uncomfortably clear recon of the area, and his own experiences in those tunnels that led there hadn't quite left his nostrils yet...
|
|
|
|
Post by Capster on Jun 11, 2019 18:04:35 GMT -8
Sarak looked over as the man spoke to him, he seemed eager. Sarak looked over and simply strummed his fingers on his bow, like some sort of musician preparing to pluck a string. His nerves were starting to get to him but he remained ever vigilant, it was a blessing in disguise, he seemed to notice every brush of wind. But his face did not convey this, he kept a stoic and calm face, one only could feign when seeing bloodshed. "Sarak." Was all he said in response to the blacksmiths question, before speaking himself.
"We chase a bull for what...five, ten minutes at full speed...and you don't know your way around these parts no matter how dangerous?"
|
|
|
|
Post by rosallora on Jun 11, 2019 20:16:07 GMT -8
The two running back through the wood found the way clearly enough. A path emerges that leads them a slightly different route, away from the fallen log. And despite the troubles lurking deeper within the warrens, they steer away from it. The yipping and rustling of the pigs stay out of their ears, and before they know it, they can see the slightly dimming sunlight of the Hamlet through the overhanging branches of trees. The two can see the field beyond, and the festival, though it's different in this light. The way was clear - all that was left was for the others to follow it.
The wound on the Bull's neck was a nasty scrape, bleeding onto its hide, but no infection seemed to take hold yet. Antioch circles around the beast, carefully, looking at him with baleful eyes. "Poor thing. Poor Tirano. C'mon boy we're gonna be headin' on home soon." Antioch swallows thickly, his eyes darting to the woods around. "Hope them boys think it's lookin' good... don't know 'bout us." He clicks his tongue at the beast, moving backwards, and towards the direction from which the group of them came.
The Bull himself was still shaking off his anger, his hooves pawing at the rotten dirt. At the clicking, his gaze reoriented to Antioch, the straw-hatted man's gaze looking to Arnulf. "Put the rope on him real gentlelike, just move in slow..."
|
|
|
|
Post by EloHim on Jun 12, 2019 11:45:43 GMT -8
"Volundr. I heard the bull, and catching it was a first priority. I dont stray away from these woods cause i know that there are things far worse than a couple of pig-men if you walk farther out for like a day."- he shrugged. Yes he ran, yes he didn't knew shit about this place, he just knew that there is worse than this. He just was happy that he didn't go weaponless.
After awhile the two found a path back to the Hamlet. But instead of going back to celebration, Volundr had another idea.
"Okay, the road is clear. Lets double back, warn the farmer and grab these pig bodies. There's gon be a big dinner tonight."
He wants this trip into the woods away from festivities - worth it. So he went back, not really caring about Sarak following him. He could drag this fat pieces of meat back to the Hamlet alone. Or mount them on the bull. He will see about that when he gets there.
"Hey there, the road is clear! Let's get those faen pigs and get outta here."- he yelled to Antioch and other one... who's name he didnt knew yet. He walked up to the pig that fell from the bull, and walked away as soon as he saw it. The bastard was no use to them, bull did a great job on that one. But the other back on the path was still good since no one gave a shite about a ruined skull.
"That one's still good. Not gonna risk putting him on the bull...the poor bastard had enough riding for a while."- he says, grabbing the hefty bastard by his hands and dragging him down the path back to Hamlet.
|
|
|
|
Post by Capster on Jun 12, 2019 17:11:59 GMT -8
Sarak nodded and said "Not too sure if I am keen on eating them but. First for everything." He muttered as he continued with Voldundr before looking at the pig on the ground before taking out his large dagger as he dragged it back with the rest of the group. He looked over as the 2 were getting the bull under control before calling out. "You don't think he'd get pissed if I started gutting what may be our supper?" He called over as Sarak pulled out his dagger and began to gut the pig there, dumping the blood out into the grass and soon scooping and cutting the innards out with a loud shlopping splat into the pile of gore.
|
|
|
|
Post by Bloodtrailkiller on Jun 13, 2019 9:40:47 GMT -8
/Arnulf/
With the rush of adrenaline leaving his blood, he felt age creep back into his joints as he got closer to the Bull and the two men left and came back again, shouting and hollaring without a care.
Arnulf fixed them with a flinty stare, as long as he might while working closer to the Bull, before he stood up and slowly entered the beast's periphery. Stags and does were oft a more fickle beast than an Ox, but certainly less powerful; he knew better than to make any sudden moves around the Bull as he stepped closer and moved to gently place the rope about the Ox's neck, looking closer to a flower maiden throwing a bouquet than a grimy old hunter binding a ravaged Bull.
With a small affirming grunt and nod, he looked to Antioch and made to lead the Bull out with a tired look about him. He was about ready to tuck in for a nap in the brush if he didn't have to keep an eye out on Sarak while he was out yapping in the wood. He supposed he couldn't fault them; Northlike they may be but they both seemed closer to townsfolk than wildmen. Even the Smith without a shirt had a clean cut to his beard and crown.
And Sarak... he could see the boy was good with a bow, but he had a soldier's stance in his bowmanship. Proper, clean, and uniform; he wondered how early he'd been drafted... He had a mercenary's cut about him but his bow looked far older than his mercenary charm.
Another sigh came to Arnulf as he rolled his shoulders... wasn't his business to know them.
|
|
