Fantasy RPG Forum - Standing Trials

Date: 20th of Ymiden, Arc 719
Weapons: Scythe

The fall of Emea had turned out to be something of a mixed blessing for the Helping Hand. On the one hand, the disappearance of the fractures made navigating the plains much easier, as they no longer had to chart as they traveled a path that wouldn’t throw them and their clients into Emea. 



On the other hand, it meant they were now down two mages. And fractures or no, Yaralon was still filled with some of the most aggressive, most monstrous animals Prae had ever seen. 



“Shieldsteer!” Ricky shouted from above, and Prae’s head snapped up, scanning the skies. There, some distance away, Prae caught sight of a herd of heavyset, four legged creatures, charging towards them and closing in fast. 



Time was, either he or Edyn could have stopped them in their tracks with defiance, but it seemed this time, they’d have to do this the normal Yari way.


“Shieldsteer?” One of the merchants they were escorting asked, squinting at the distant herd. “Those just look like bulls to me.”


“This is Yaralon.” Selyin sighed. “No mortal or creature here is ‘just’ anything. Praetorum?”


There was a moment where Prae was certain he had heard wrong, or misunderstood. But no, there Selyin rode, looking at him in askance. Edyn liked to ask his opinion before giving out orders, a way of training or testing him. But Selyin had never done the same; for that matter, she’d never been shy about expressing her skepticism over Edyns choice of successor. To hear her ask for his suggestion, even as a test...


Still, these were desperate times. And the company didn’t have a trill to waste on any sort of back and forth between them.


“Pythia, Kyrina, Clarissa, with me. Toja and Nialsen, in the air.” Prae called out to his fliers, receiving a chorus of Ayes in response. “Sivan—“ he nudged her underbelly with his heels— “up.”


The mercenaries ahead of him parted ways quickly as, with a lunge and a leap, Praetorum and Sivan were in the air. For the briefest of breaths, he thought he saw a trace of a smile on Selyin’s lips.


He didn’t have time to dwell on it. “Ricky, let's go.” When he shifted his weight, his mount turned obediently, and he led the other four towards the herd.

Date: 20th of Ymiden, Arc 719
Weapons: Crossbow

Even as they started to fly towards the approaching herd, Praetorum could see in the movement of the mercenaries beneath the orders Selyin was giving out. The caravan was picking up speed, and a number of rangers were moving positions, to where they would have clear shots at the bulls. The defenders, meanwhile, were forming into two pockets at the front and back of the band, preparing to charge out and harass the herd if Prae and his fliers couldn't drive them off.


"Let's try to drive them south." Prae ordered. "We'll focus on the steers at the head of the herd, if we can get them to change directions, the rest should follow. Kill them if you can, scare them off if you can't." 



"If you can't, you mean." Ricky teased, unwrapping his sling from his wrist. "You're the only one of us who still can't reliably make tight shots at 30 yards."


Prae made a rude gesture at him. "I see at least two dozen steers in that herd, so we're going to have to be fast if we don't want the rest of the Hand overrun." He said. "Let's go."


Shifting in his saddle, Prae transferred his grip on his reins to his tail, and pulled his crossbow from where it hung behind his saddle. He cocked it with some effort, and loaded in a bolt. As his fliers fanned out around him, they each made their own preparations, drawing their bows, choosing sling bullets, loading bolts. 



They were flying close enough now that Prae could make out the shieldsteers' distinguishing features: the silvery-grey tint to their hide, their three pointed horns, and most importantly, the heavy plate of chitin over the top of their heads that gave them their name. These natural shields were so thick and dense that when the steers lowered their heads to charge, nothing could hurt them from the front. Prae had heard horror stories of pikes, lances, even swords being shattered against a shieldsteer's hard head, moments before the unlucky wielder was gored on their horns. 



All of this, and the shieldsteers' distinctly carnivorous tendencies and shocking speed, made the creatures a perennial danger to any group too slow to escape them. Groups like the caravan the hand was escorting. 



The only way to take a shield steer down was from the side or back, not an easy feat when anyone who tried would find themselves soon being chased, trampled, and gored. Unless, of course, you were somewhere they couldn't reach. Like in the air. 



"Ricky, take point." Prae ordered. The mercenary gave him a thumbs up, and urged his steed forwards, already fitting a pair of stones into his sling, the showy bastard. But he was the member of this team whose weapon required only a single hand, so he'd be able to steer his steed easiest. Which in turn meant that the rest of them could simply follow him, and focus on shooting without having to worry about their mounts.  



The herd was within range of their weapons now, but still Ricky led them closer, until they were nearly on top of the stampeding steer. Then he let fly with his sling, catching the lead bull in the neck with his stones. 



The creature let out a bellow as it staggered and fell, and the herd charged in different directions around it, split, but not yet scattering. Even as Ricky let out a whoop of success, the herd rejoined together, leaving their fallen brethren behind in their dust.


Nothing in Yaralon was every that easy. Praetorum raised his crossbow, and carefully took aim, well aware of how inexperienced he still was with this weapon. A pair of arrows flew down into the herd, each finding their mark in a different bull, though neither were felled by it.

Focus, Prae told himself sternly. He closed one eye, aiming down the center, and pulled the trigger.

Date: 20th of Ymiden, Arc 719
Weapons: None

With so many targets to choose from, it would have taken a stroke of extraordinary bad luck to miss, and fortunately, Praetorum was in the fates favor to-trial. His bolt sank into the flank of one of the bulls along the side of the herd, and he immediately drew another, spanning and loading his crossbow.


The first barrage of projectiles did little to stop the herd, killing only a single one of the steers, but that was alright. Expected, almost. The fliers simply wheeled around, and made another pass, making sure to only shoot along the northern flank of the herd, to try and drive them south. This time, they had better luck. Ricky's sling took out one of the steer's legs from underneath it, while the twins' arrows both sank into the same bull, knocking it into its neighbor. Prae and Clarissa both sank their shots, but did little more than slow the herd down. 



The herd was getting dangerously close to the convoy now, and Prae could see the two groups of defenders starting to deploy. "One more sweep." Prae called. "Try to split the herd again."


And now finally, a definite success: the three leading bulls all felled in quick succession, and the herd split once more, this time for good. 



One half of the herd seemed to give up then, veering southwards to try and escape the hail of projectiles. The other half stayed firm on their course, determined to attack. 



"You four, chase the southern group." Praetorum snapped, a plan coalescing in his mind. "Make sure they don't change their minds and try to come back after us. I'll help the ground bound rangers take this lot."


As his fliers broke off to follow the fleeing bovines, Praetorum leaned forwards, urging his mount on as he strapped his crossbow back to her saddle. "Faster." He hissed to her as they flew above and alongside the charging bulls, slowly gaining on them. "Faster"


The rangers were starting to raise their bows now, but didn't shoot. Because the steer were still protected by the shields at their heads, he knew. And because they didn't want to hit him on accident. 



The defenders riding towards them were halfway there when Prae decided he was far enough ahead of them. A snap of Sivan's reins had the Kheledzan diving, then, banking to the left to cut in front of the stampede. And as they soared past, barely a few feet above the ground and dangerously close to the leading bull, Praetorum clenched his fist, and activated Serpent's Hood. 



The noise that came from the herd then was less bellow, and more roar, and as Praetorum let out a loud growl in response, the entire herd turned to chase him. 



Exposing their soft, vulnerable sides to the ranks of archers from the Helping Hand. 



Prae pulled at his reins, angling Sivan back up into the air as a hail of arrows rained down upon the hapless herd. There were noises of pain and anger from below, and the herd scattered, leaving near dozen of their members dead or injured in the grass. 



As he flew back to the rest of the band, he heard a few scattered shouts of approval or congratulations, and smiled to himself as Sivan tucked her wings in, landing besides Selyin's horse. 


He looked at her, one brow raised. She simply blinked at him.



"Could have been worse." Coming from her, it was as good as approval.