Bounty: Tuskarr It seemed as though there was no end to the hunger pangs of Astorea and the Yladians, now that both were occupying the Adecus Forest. The move of the Exodus into Astorea had brought more mouths than they could hope to feed, which meant that feeding the army they needed to be producing was going to be a certain impossibility. They lacked the open fields to produce sustainable crops, and even if they had the landscape for it, it was simply too late in the year to start farms and yield a suitable harvest. Hunting within the Adecus was at an all time high, which meant that depopulation of local wildlife was an increasing reality. They weren't near waters to fish, and fish didn't travel well enough to risk transporting them by land without them spoiling before arrival. The livestock had been all but lost, and Mycolossus meat only would last so long. So it was that the Admiral and Gwyn found themselves in Pormont, hunting boar to bring back for butchering to feed the masses. Technically stealing livestock and provisions like this from a foreign power's land was an act of war. But then again, so had been invading Castle Dormont in the first place, so honestly it was splitting hairs at this point. Still, if the people of Falderen found out that Astorea was invading their back yards to steal their food, it would not end well for whomever Astor put in charge of diplomatic relations. Assuming, of course, anybody even would be put in charge of it. She'd still yet to see any sort of coronation ceremony, speeches on policy, or statements on the direction the kingdom was going. Things were about as tits up as a college aged waitress making ends meet. So with all that stress, why not at least make the necessity of hunting for food be a sport of sorts? The pigs were easy marks for Gwyn to shoot down, and easy challenges for the Admiral to crush with her hammers, which meant the whole affair was basically a giant time waster to the two women. And if you had to waste time, you might as well enjoy it. "How about a friendly competition?" she mused, riding a rented horse across the plains as they neared the place the boars were meant to live. A cart lay at the top of the hill, which would be filled with pig corpses once they were done hunting, to take back to Astorea. Until then, she was free to ride the horse through the plains, her hammer hanging from her right hand and gleaming in the sunlight. "We each hunt down as many boar as we can and... whoever gets the most in the allotted amount of time is the winner. Check your HUD clock and call it five minutes, starting... right... at... the new... minute!" Spurring her horse into action, she began to ride down a hill towards a group of the pigs, easily chasing them down on horseback. @Gwyn ap Herne had the advantage of range but boar were stubborn things and would each take multiple shots to fell, unless her aim was dead on. The Admiral, in the meantime, just had to brain them once to get a point in her own favor. She tore through a group of the creatures and swung down on one side, then twisted her body and swung down on the other, striking back and forth as she passed through their ranks. Thrown die: 28 +40 [68 / 180] [ADDY: 68 | xx :GWYN]
Gwyn had watched the exodus of the elves of Yladia into the newly claimed borders of the player kingdom of Astorea with mixed feelings. She was proud and relieved to see the people moved to a newer and safer home, as safe as anything was within the video game they lived in for the entertainment of the players, but there were problems that came with that. Lots of problems. The forest was wild and overgrown in many places and underbrush needed to be cleared for temporary camping sites until more permanent residency could be built for the elves, the players, and those formerly of Falderen that had decided their homes were more important than the lines on a map. That particular nest of hornets was stable. For the moment. The call for food had been one of the loudest concerns and was as simple to address as it was difficult to solve. The Mycolossus offered a stable amount of food for the moment, but that wouldn't last. Until livestock could be build back into sustainable herds and until land to keep and feed them could be decided upon and readied? They were shit out of luck. Hunting as all there was for it. Hunting? Hunting she could do. Deer, rabbits, boars, and some of the more fantastical creatures within the borders of the wooded territory made for easy prey. @The Admiral had been a saving grace, a merciful light of something interesting compared to the more standard hunts. She wasn't overly pleased with the whole "hunting in a foreign nation currently an unknown odds with the nation The Admiral's guild was leading and the 'invading' peoples of Yladia that Gwyn was more aligned with over the player nation." That was a bit of a mouthful, perhaps the whole "Astorea in general" thing would be a better alternative summary. Whatever the words, the point remained. There were people. The people needed food. Gwyn was good at hunting for food, for sport, for the fight itself. The Admiral brought at hunt to her. And a challenge. That? That she could do. The Admiral and her had grabbed horses from the meager stock of the small nation and the elves, passive things that would suffer unknown riders so long as they were skilled enough to manage them. Both of them shared enough riding skill to be more than capable. Gwyn had found the gelding she had led during the exodus, one of the few of the mounts and livestock to make it through the scare of the spore storm and the remainder of their journey. He was a sturdy thing, easy to rein in and mild-tempered. A kindly bay with legs and body sturdy and powerful enough to hint at some draft horse in his line. "Game on." At the warrior woman's count, Gwyn nudged the horse's flanks to motion him into a full gallop. She stood in the saddle, trusting the pressure of her knees in his sides to be enough to guide him. She pulled back on the bow as they neared the group of Tuskarrs. She could see the gleam of Addy's hammer pull back to clobber her prey, but focused on her own. The Scatter Shot was readied, aimed, and fired. Thrown die: 88 [ +30 ] [ 186 / 180 ] [ ADDY: 68 | 118 :GWYN ]
A smile crossed the Admiral's lips as at least one of the boars went down from the force of her swings. Her horse thundered past their small herd and she began to circle around again for another chase, watching as Gwyn began to target her own game and shoot with deadly precision. That was the difference between the two women. One valued patience and precision, lining up the perfect shot for the ultimate kill as her weapon fought out every exploitable gap and weakness in her prey. The other hit things with a hammer, really hard. But like, really hard. It definitely wasn't as simple as it sounded. Gripping the reins of her borrowed mount, she hurried back towards the mass of pig and flew through their ranks once again, hammer swinging. She aimed for their necks and for their heads, trying to bring them down in one powerful and lethal blow as her mastered art of hitting things with other things was employed to its fullest extent. There were those that thought her sole focus on damage per second was a waste of potential and that she ought to round herself out more with some magic or another kind of focus. Nuts to that, she thought! If she hit something and it didn't buckle under the force of her strike, she wasn't hitting it hard enough or often enough. At least, that was her theory of it. Thrown die: 21 +40 [180 / 180] [ADDY: 129 / 118 :GWYN]
The volley she fired had scattered and fell into a group of them, two falling immediately. One had an arrow down through the top of its head and the other likely had a pierced lung from the weak twitches and labored breathing, bloody froth foaming around the tusks. The third was bleeding heavily from the arrow in its torso. Internal damage. It would stand for a while, but not long enough to escape. She didn't stop to cull it early and instead let the gallop of her horse drop back down to a canter as they gained some distance to turn for another sweep. She saw The Admiral do the same and smiled as the woman went in to clobber away once more. "You play golf back home? Maybe polo? That it?" She called out, drawing the irate attention of one of the male Tuskarr. The boar looked pissed, snorting furiously and charging toward her and the mount. She clicked her tongue to bade the gelding back into a gallop and hooked her feet firmly in the stirrups. The huntress leaned hard to the left but gave the horse the motion to carry forward straight, leaving her hovering at its side. She brought up her sights and waited as they closed the distance with her arrow primed. Gwyn breathed steadily, calmly allowing the Tuskarr to prove its own death as it aligned with her aim. In the space between her exhale and the following inhale, she fired the Precision Shot aiming true for the boar's eye to sink it through the socket and into the brain. Thrown die: 85 [ +30 ] [ 362 / 180 ] [ ADDY: 129 | 233 :GWYN ]
The Admiral frowned, quite aware at how poorly she was managing to hunt the pigs when compared with the graceful precision of Gwyn. A few pigs littered the field here and there, their necks broken from her swings, but twice the number lay pin cushioned in the grass by the huntress and her powerful bow. Turning her mount around, the Admiral refused to concede defeat even if she knew she could not win. It was simply not in her character to stop and pout; she would soldier on, and try to come as close to Gwyn's level as she was capable of. Both for her own self respect, and for the respect that Gwyn hopefully held for the warrior woman. Thundering down upon the boards for one last pass, the Admiral let go of the reins and drew out her second hammer, doubling the number of pigs that she could now strike. At the cost, of course, of steering. But that was fine; she left control in the heart of the horse and remained seated in its saddle with practiced skill. With each pig she passed, she swung rapidly, then twisted her body to land blows on the opposite side of the mount, as though she were rowing a boat along a lake rather than hunting game. "Of course not!" the Admiral shouted in response to Gwyn's joke. A grin spread across her face as she swung away, passed the last of the animals, and turned to see how Gwyn was doing. "I play Baseball, like any red blooded American, wouldn't you know? I'd use a baseball bat if they'd give me one. It's the greatest of sports; the American past time. All of those large muscled men in their tight white uniforms, covered in dirt and sweat and nice tanned skin. Pounding that loooooooooooong piece of wood hard and fast as balls go smack smack smacking away. I'm not sure what it is... but something about it really gets my blood going, you know?" Thrown die: 94 +40 [496/180] [ADDY: 263 | 233 :GWYN]
The combined might of the two women was grisly to behold. In hindsight, she was glad that @The Admiral had had the forethought to bring the decently sturdy wooden cart with them. She couldn't begin to imagine how much of a hassle it would have been to take them all back on horseback, resorting to makeshift slings and sleds to drag behind the horses. She almost pitied the cart for the mess of work the two of them were making for it. At this point the real struggle would be that they'd have to take care not to leave a bloody red trail all the way back to Astorea. For now, their hunt had to draw to its eventual close. The dangerous Tuskarr were simply no match compared to them, the boars couldn't hope to hold a candle, couldn't dare to step to them, and ultimately would be brought down. If they chose flight or fight, there was no escape just as there was no victory to be had. Arrows or hammers, they'd hit the grass all the same and never rise again. They would be honored in keeping a people alive and giving the strength to players to build their nation hand in hand with the elves. At least, she hoped they did as much. Gwyn would have all their heads if even one turned against the Yladians once they considered their use gone and role lived out to its end. Humans had a nasty habit of it in their world and no player race could change some peoples' natures. Gwyn watched as The Admiral worked in perfect, bloody rhythm, her hammers whirling in a dangerous dance around her. The woman's wording was a little odd when she responded to Gwyn's joke, but she shrugged it off. "I don't think I've ever sat down and watched people play... well, anything. Especially not professional baseball, maybe lady's volleyball. I hear that's a sight. I never did get to play baseball though, when I went through that phase the school I was at only had softball for girls. Did that for a while before lacrosse got me. Talk about a wild ride, that one. Shame competitive rock climbing is sporty. Weak shit, no danger, no thrill." Her face screwed up in disgust. "Bouldering is fun, yeah. For practice or rainy days." Finally The Admiral drew her run to an end. They would need to leave soon, already having pushed how long they were here. Shaking off her particular opinions on man-made routes to test skill and how contrary that was to her opinion on climbing, Gwyn refocused on her goal. There weren't many left and they were scattered and frightened. She clicked her tongue to get her borrowed mount's attention and set off in a nimble gallop. The two worked in harmony, a few arrows made to miss shot off to spook a boar or two into running a certain direction. After a moment of sharp turns and whooping hollars, she had the remained few in a decent enough area. With fingers mentally crossed, she let loose a Scatter Shot. The Single arrow flew, arching up and over before splitting into a volley of rains that rained down on the singularity of boars. Hopefully she'd hit enough to kill them all, to defeat her partner-rival, or just to bring down a few more for hungry mouths. Any way this went, they had done well. Thrown die: 48 [ +30 ] [ 574 / 180 ] [ ADDY: 263 | 311 :GWYN ]
