Ebonfort Solo
Starting Date and Time: Ceruleo 2, 291 DM
Starting Location: Bahora Forest, Frostfell
CS URLs: Rilana Aurorime'
The frigid air was crisp in Rilana's nostrils as she crouched with her back against the dark bark of the spruce tree. It was so cold that some of the branches had frozen and snapped, dangling above while the hardened resin filled the air with the piney scent. The Moon Fey let her breath out slowly so that it would not puff in a white cloud on the deathly chill air, focusing on her heartbeat as though sheer force of will could keep it slow, keep her from needing to breathe as she waited for her prey. Like the rest of her people, she was immune the to life-draining, numbing cold.
Rilana's white hair stood up in messy spikes where she had cut it last year, the sides shortened almost to her scalp. Bannon had told her the change made her look like a man, and Rilana couldn't decide if she was glad she had managed to do something to curb the human's enthusiasm towards her, or if she regretted having to resort to butchering her hair into such a wild style to be rid of some of his affection. Fey mixing with humans was not unheard of, but Bannon's lack of ambition put her off. That and his almost suffocating clinginess. Rilana was a creature of the wilds, prone to wandering and leaving Frigmount without notice, but each time she came back Bannon seemed to have taken it as a personal offense and was even more firmly resolved to talk her out of going the next time.
Regardless, no hairstyle could distract the man from Rilana's long, shapely legs and narrow waist. Fortunately, there was no one out in the depths of the Frostfell to notice such things, and right now her body wasn't just half-buried in the snow, but sheathed in supple reindeer hide, the fur turned inwards to be soft against her fair skin. The grey light of dawn had turned the dark forest into an ethereal twilight, and the Moon Fey had been waiting in the same spot for hours. Tracking the dire wolverine had taken her farther into that Bahora Forest than she had ever been before, and she was surprised at how far the dying beast had come.
In the last few weeks, as she followed the slightly pigeon-toed tracks, the clumps of silver-grey fur caught in black underbrush, the remains of viciously brutalized vermin and the remarkably pungent scat, Rilana had almost called the hunt off, thinking that perhaps the creature would heal. But then she would catch sight of it as it scurried through the trees ahead and her resolve would strengthen.
A dire wolverine was normally twelve feet long and about two-thousand pounds of insane rage. This one was the first she had ever actually seen, and while it was as long as it was supposed to be, it's frost-resistant pelt was hanging loosely from its skeleton. It had the rusting remains of a harpoon in its shoulder, the wound festering and putrid with oozing gangrene that Rilana could smell from a dozen yards away. In addition to laming the beast in the front, the septic wound was slowly rotting the huge mustelid from the inside out. For the last three or four days the wolverine piss left in the snow was bloody and foul, telling her that its kidneys were compromised.
Chasing the monster down was supposed to be an act of kindness, but the longer Rilana followed it, stalking it like a deer through the the serene trees, the more it seemed that the creature would die of its wounds before she could do it the favour of taking it down. She suspected that it was aware of her presence.
The wolverine was whuffling around in a clearing ahead, scrabbling against the frozen pile of deadfall where some small creature was presumably hiding. Rilana watched the huge shape and tried to control her breath, not wanting to earn its attention. Normal wolverines were tenacious and fearless gluttons. A dire wolverine was as murderous as an animal could be.
Moving as slowly as she could, Rilana dipped her thin fingertips into the pouch she wore inside the waist of her fur pants, smearing a glob of whale fat out of a tiny stone pot. Her dazzling eyes never left the shadowy creature beyond as she slicked the yellowish oil up the length of her bowstring and then reached down to her hip to lift a long steel-tipped arrow from her quiver. She placed the arrow against the mammoth-sinew string and rotated the shaft so that the keen arrow was vertical, making it more likely to slide neatly through the wolverine's ribs to pierce the heart or a lung.
Starting Date and Time: Ceruleo 2, 291 DM
Starting Location: Bahora Forest, Frostfell
CS URLs: Rilana Aurorime'
The frigid air was crisp in Rilana's nostrils as she crouched with her back against the dark bark of the spruce tree. It was so cold that some of the branches had frozen and snapped, dangling above while the hardened resin filled the air with the piney scent. The Moon Fey let her breath out slowly so that it would not puff in a white cloud on the deathly chill air, focusing on her heartbeat as though sheer force of will could keep it slow, keep her from needing to breathe as she waited for her prey. Like the rest of her people, she was immune the to life-draining, numbing cold.
Rilana's white hair stood up in messy spikes where she had cut it last year, the sides shortened almost to her scalp. Bannon had told her the change made her look like a man, and Rilana couldn't decide if she was glad she had managed to do something to curb the human's enthusiasm towards her, or if she regretted having to resort to butchering her hair into such a wild style to be rid of some of his affection. Fey mixing with humans was not unheard of, but Bannon's lack of ambition put her off. That and his almost suffocating clinginess. Rilana was a creature of the wilds, prone to wandering and leaving Frigmount without notice, but each time she came back Bannon seemed to have taken it as a personal offense and was even more firmly resolved to talk her out of going the next time.
Regardless, no hairstyle could distract the man from Rilana's long, shapely legs and narrow waist. Fortunately, there was no one out in the depths of the Frostfell to notice such things, and right now her body wasn't just half-buried in the snow, but sheathed in supple reindeer hide, the fur turned inwards to be soft against her fair skin. The grey light of dawn had turned the dark forest into an ethereal twilight, and the Moon Fey had been waiting in the same spot for hours. Tracking the dire wolverine had taken her farther into that Bahora Forest than she had ever been before, and she was surprised at how far the dying beast had come.
In the last few weeks, as she followed the slightly pigeon-toed tracks, the clumps of silver-grey fur caught in black underbrush, the remains of viciously brutalized vermin and the remarkably pungent scat, Rilana had almost called the hunt off, thinking that perhaps the creature would heal. But then she would catch sight of it as it scurried through the trees ahead and her resolve would strengthen.
A dire wolverine was normally twelve feet long and about two-thousand pounds of insane rage. This one was the first she had ever actually seen, and while it was as long as it was supposed to be, it's frost-resistant pelt was hanging loosely from its skeleton. It had the rusting remains of a harpoon in its shoulder, the wound festering and putrid with oozing gangrene that Rilana could smell from a dozen yards away. In addition to laming the beast in the front, the septic wound was slowly rotting the huge mustelid from the inside out. For the last three or four days the wolverine piss left in the snow was bloody and foul, telling her that its kidneys were compromised.
Chasing the monster down was supposed to be an act of kindness, but the longer Rilana followed it, stalking it like a deer through the the serene trees, the more it seemed that the creature would die of its wounds before she could do it the favour of taking it down. She suspected that it was aware of her presence.
The wolverine was whuffling around in a clearing ahead, scrabbling against the frozen pile of deadfall where some small creature was presumably hiding. Rilana watched the huge shape and tried to control her breath, not wanting to earn its attention. Normal wolverines were tenacious and fearless gluttons. A dire wolverine was as murderous as an animal could be.
Moving as slowly as she could, Rilana dipped her thin fingertips into the pouch she wore inside the waist of her fur pants, smearing a glob of whale fat out of a tiny stone pot. Her dazzling eyes never left the shadowy creature beyond as she slicked the yellowish oil up the length of her bowstring and then reached down to her hip to lift a long steel-tipped arrow from her quiver. She placed the arrow against the mammoth-sinew string and rotated the shaft so that the keen arrow was vertical, making it more likely to slide neatly through the wolverine's ribs to pierce the heart or a lung.