Hunting always carried a thrill with it. The moment when one released the string of their bow, watching as a beautifully carved arrow soared through the air and landed pluckily in the side of a wild beast was satisfying to say the least. There was always that instant wherein one knew that an animal was dead, even if it still yelped or cried or roared; those were simply physical reactions to the onset of death, and it made his own blood pulse with vibrant energy. Thankfully, he was essentially required to hunt in order to provide for Vern and himself, and that meant he was constantly engaged in the task, even when he was technically supposed to be involved with something else.
Mind you, the joyful glee it brought him came at a cost. Typically, there were long moments of monotonous silence that filled the air as he pushed past bushes and brush, attempting to locate any semblance of tracks or any potential signs of life that might lead him to prey. Those long and dreary quests had oft ended with frustration and disgust at his own lack of abilities, though typically they provided some manner of reward in the end. Sometimes a failed hunt would warrant the opportunity to learn something new of his prey, and other times he would simply stumble upon something of intrigue and deem the trip to have been worthwhile all along.
The twilight hybrid found himself engaged in one such ordeal, having decided to scout the nearby lands, and had decided that a fair marker for himself would be the river running near the Pahrn gate. That would allow him to further explore the area without worry about becoming lost, and thus it been an excellent choice for his expedition. Whilst some explorers throughout history were simply searching for the sake of searching, Noth had a very specific item in mind which he desired: trade routes.
There was little shock that Etzos; the foremost exporter of gems and precious jewels, would be involved in trades involving its precious products. It was true that many of those exports would be sent by ship to their final destinations, but it was also stood to reason that there would be caravans carrying those same valuables by land. If the twilight hybrid could pinpoint the exact trails that were used by the caravans, then he would be in an excellent position to rob them, and take all of their precious treasures for himself and the Al’Angyryl. That would certainly propel their cause forward, and he felt assured that the additional funds would help to keep his associates in line as well.
Sadly, the trial seemed to have been wasted, because he could not distinguish a hunter’s trail from one used by a caravan. It seemed as though the area had been well-worn enough that trails throughout it were fairly common, and yet there were no signs of wagon or cart movement throughout the area, or even large horse migrations. That seemed to indicate that any potential trails were either non-existent, or they had been wiped away by recent precipitation, which essentially meant that his efforts were for naught.
He had brought along his usual equipment of war; his hauberk and greaves, adamantite mace, and longbow, in the event that he would stumble upon a lone beast, or perhaps be set upon by them, as well as to ward off potential bandits. Crimson eyes gave up the search for human trails, and began instead to search for any nearby animal tracks, glancing into the nearby river every few steps to ensure that nothing vicious had decided to make him its meal.
There was a fascinating idea that crossed his mind.
He was no expert upon the beasts of the local lands, but he had heard that the King Crocodiles that resided within the rivers had armor plating which covered their bodies almost like iron, and the idea of cutting some of those plates from a dead one became increasingly appetizing to the hungry bird. He could feast upon the flesh, and then use the bones and teeth and hide to make something menacing and useful for himself.
Perhaps it was the thought of the hunt that brought the scent to attention, or perhaps it was some universal irony that he just so happened to smell it. Nevertheless, it drew his attention, and he stopped in his tracks, taking several deep whiffs of the air in order to assure himself that he indeed scented what he believed; blood on the wind. It was a particularly strong iron scent, and it was quickly becoming a familiar sensation given his time at war and in various and assorted violent activities. Sometimes, it paid to be a carnivorous Avriel, because it meant your senses were honed to detect prey, and Noth was no exception to that rule despite his muddled heritage.
He took off towards the scent, taking deep breaths of the air as he traversed through the weeds and thickets, attempting to locate the exact positioning of it. He was still an Avriel, not a bloodhound, and so the process took far longer than he would have preferred, but gradually he noticed that the smell was growing stronger in a particular direction. Curiously, it seemed to be emanating from somewhere near the water, which was why the sneaking hybrid began to skulk around the outskirts, observing the banks from the cover of nearby foliage.
Crimson eyes observed the scene, analyzing every actor in the staged play, and wondering their assorted motivations and personalities for a moment. It seemed as though someone had decided to wrestle with a King Crocodile, and had; against all odds, killed it in melee combat. Blood now poured outwards into the water, though there weren’t an evidently large wounds upon the Croc that would seem to hint at that amount of bleeding, which meant that the man was likely to be suffering from some form of shock in any moment.
Slowly, carefully, and without a single peep, the twilight hybrid stepped forth from the shadows. He called no attention to himself, though he was visible should they seek him. It was unlikely, they were busy with their own issues. Gradually, feathered fingers prepared an arrow upon the longbow, notching it and drawing it back ever so slightly just so that it was ready in the event of an emergency.
It was fine. He would wait, and then take what he wanted. It seemed unlikely the man would survive the incident given the amount of blood in the river, though clearly adrenaline had given him some small semblance of strength.
And if he did?
Noth wasn’t the Prince of Eternal Mercies for nothing.
