Completed A Song Yet Unsung

[Elinyra Derwinthir]

Sunlight and shadows danced across the frost-kissed golden autumn meadow. Fluffy cumulus clouds, the last remnants of a summer gone, floated by in silence overhead. Elinyra danced with them in graceful steps and turns, beholden to a song only she could hear. She'd never seen another soul here, and so she'd taken it for her own; a place for her druidic rituals, a place to reconnect with her past and let go of the sobriety she'd come to know too well. She was confident that no one from the monastery would range this far into this relatively safe section of forest, and so she danced.

The Knights were her allies, as far as she was concerned. They'd generously granted her sanctuary in the Astenvale Monastery in her time of need. Yet it did not feel like home, and she often felt the desire to wander beyond its walls. More now that her nightmares had become more frequent and the many hours spent in the library only bore grim epiphanies.

All of that was forgotten in moments when music captured the heart.

Faramund

 

[Faramund]

A part of the deepening shadows, Syr Faramund made his way quietly through the forest, like a ghost given flesh. It had been some days now since he had left the Monastery, and supplies were starting to dwindle. So, with boar spear in hand and purpose in his stride, the knight had set to supplementing the dried rations provided to him by the Order.

He had not expected to stumble across Elinyra where she danced amongst the trees. Indeed, he had not expected to find anyone this far into the Valen.

And yet here we are, thought Faramund, taking a moment to compose himself as he slipped silently from the treeline to approach Elinyra. Despite being "in tune" with the forest and all its little beasties, the elf had yet to notice him. With her head in the clouds, it was no wonder, really.

Smiling to himself, Faramund cleared his throat.

Elinyra Derwinthir

 

[Elinyra Derwinthir]

Swept up in her personal song, Elinyra was oblivious to Faramund's presence until the guttural sound of him clearing his throat broke her reverie. Memories of what she had faced over the last few months fed her imagination a number of potential enemies that might have sneaked up on her, and she spun around to face him rather inelegantly mid-stride.

She relaxed upon seeing Faramund, a bit embarrassed both that she'd been caught in a rather personal moment and by her own startled response. Most discomforting was knowing that the blackened flesh of her right hand and wrist was visible. She'd didn't feel the need to conceal her affliction out here in the wilderness, not with the sun so warm and welcoming, but now she put her hand to her side, as much out of sight as possible.

A hunter, judging by his gear and choice of weaponry. He seemed very familiar, but she couldn't quite recall where she had seen him before.

"Um... good afternoon," she offered with a smile that tried to hide her surprise.

Faramund

 

[Faramund]

'Afternoon,' returned Faramund, watching as Elinyra hid her affliction from sight. 'Didn't mean to disturb you from... whatever that was,' he coughed, hiding his smile behind a fist. It wasn't every day you ran into a friend out here, especially one that didn't seem to remember you.

But he remembered her, sure as sure. How could he not? She had been the one to raise him from the dead, after all. No small feat, that.

Noticing the druid's eyes dart towards his weapons and armour, the dawnling made to reassure her by resting the spear on his shoulder. 'I'm not here to harm you,' he said, quickly realising that if someone did intend to hurt her, they would have said the exact same thing. 'I'm Faramund!' the dawnling announced hurriedly, bowing his head in recognition.

'It's been a while since I saw you last. Pretty sure you had two twin sisters at the time,' he grinned, ignoring the fact that the Broofest had been one of the darkest moments of his career. As a knight, and drunkard. 'Elinyra, right?'

Elinyra Derwinthir

 

[Elinyra Derwinthir]

Embarrassment redoubled as it dawned on Elinyra where she knew this man from. Of course. He'd been one of the participants in the Broofest who had his drinks get the better of him. Granted, he looked a lot more hale now than he had then. She was sure she'd seen him around the monastery grounds as well, in the few times she wasn't buried in her blight research.

"Oh, yes, Syr Faramund. My apologies for not recognizing you," she said with a bow to him. "You look well. Hunting, are you? Any beast in particular?"

Come to think of it, she hadn't seen nor sensed much in the way of game today. This area was usually quite flush with animal life, though it was possible that many of them had moved on as autumn swept in.

Faramund

 

[Faramund]

'Why, yes, I am hunting,' Fara replied, his smile growing wider as Elinyra managed to put the pieces together. 'As to anything in particular, well... dinner, I suppose.' Waving his hand dismissively, the big knight walked out into the clearing.

As much as he enjoyed the sound of his own voice, he wasn't going to spend the rest of the day shouting to the druid. And now that she knew he was a friend and not a threat, he could approach without the risk of stopping an arrow... or that vicious-looking whip of hers. Where did she keep that thing?

Stopping a few feet distant, the knight grounded his spear. The only hunting tool he had ever required, the spear's beak-shaped point had been dulled down so as to resist sunlight. Much like his face, it bore the telltale signs of hard use. Slight nicks and discolouration, mainly. But then it didn't have to be pretty to serve its purpose.

Blinking, the knight gazed at Elinyra as if deep in thought. 'Say, you wouldn't mind helping a weary traveller find some supper, would you? Only, it's been an hour now and I ain't found jack shit!'

@Elinyra Derwinthir

 

[Elinyra Derwinthir]

She smiled, genuinely glad for what she considered an invitation. It had been awhile since Elinyra had been the hunter and not the hunted. Longer still since she'd hunted with anyone else. It brought back an old memory that she held onto for a moment before letting it drift away in the warm afternoon breeze.

"If you have a taste for boar, there is a bramble patch not for from here where they like to gather. I could show you, if you don't object to extra company on your hunt." She cast an easy glance over to where her bow and quiver rested against the knotted trunk of an old oak, next to a sack of herbs and mushrooms she'd gathered on her leisurely hike out here.

She looked back down at her bare feet. She supposed she'd probably need to put her boots back on before she went anywhere.

Faramund

 

[Faramund]

'By all means.' Following her gaze, Syr Faramund blessed his stars that she had a bow. Allowing a straight shooter like Elinyra to tag along would help expedite the process, and keep him from having to tangle with any angry boars. Their tusks were nothing to be trifled with, after all. And the speeds at which they could move... On second thought, perhaps hunting boar wasn't such a good idea.

Alas, needs must.

'It's been a while since I saw you at the Monastery last,' Faramund spoke up as Elinyra grabbed her things. 'You doing okay?' Crunching his way through the long grass, he let the question hang as the elf strung her bow for the hunt. Like her, Faramund had also been busy collecting mushrooms and berries during his foray into the woodlands. He knew from long experience which ones were poisonous and which would leave you high as a kite.

Fortunately, the ones he had picked went nicely in a stew.

'Forgive me if I'm being forward,' he said, shouldering his spear. 'But like I said, yours is not a face I see often... more's the pity.'

Elinyra Derwinthir

 

[Elinyra Derwinthir]

Elinyra had to consider how she was going to answer that question as she gathered up her things and led the way across the meadow towards a game trail she knew well. There were times when her affliction bothered her little, and times when she swore it was growing up her arm again. Between her own research and conversations with those sworn who were versed in the blight, there was little doubt left about what was consuming her. No texts anywhere held any mention of a cure.

"I'm well enough. I've just been buried in the library night and day," she answered politely, looking over to her hunting partner with a curious expression. "How about yourself? It seems the Knights have had their share of problems recently." If not that strange cult of eye-less zealots, then some horror or other. It seemed the Vale threw its dangers at the monastery like the assault of waves on a beach.

Forgive me if Im being forward, he said, shouldering his spear. But like I said, yours is not a face I see often... mores the pity.

"I am somewhat surprised you'd care to see me at all, considering all those bitter herbs I forced down your throat the first time we met." She smirked lightly and raised an eyebrow both in jest and inquisitiveness. The herbal remedies for alcohol poisoning were foul tasting, to say the least.

The trail ahead was narrow and half-overgrown, only lightly used by the animals who came and went from the clearing. Elinyra knew it would meet up with a more frequently-used trail along a stream, and from there they only had to follow that up to the bramble-covered hill. She closed her inner senses to the animals around her - no druid of their oath would use their gifts to hunt. Only the natural dance of predator and prey would be in her thoughts and movements.

Faramund

 

[Faramund]

'Seems I made quite the first impression,' Faramund laughed, nodding along as if he remembered the Broofest fondly. He didn't. Of all the nights he could partially recall, the Broofest was up there among the worst. And all because of a dodgy pint, the knight thought bitterly, his expression turning gloomy in an instant. Never again, he promised himself, knowing full well that he would forget it by the time the next Broofest came around.

Shaking his head, he shot a wry smile at Elinyra.

'Thanks for that, by the way. Not everyone would have been so... gentle with me,' the knight said, picturing Josai in his mind. The Spear Witch was one of the best healers he'd ever known, but she had a mean streak a mile wide when it came to drunk fools like him. Mind you, she had a mean streak for fools in general, not that Faramund knew anything about that. No, Syr!

'I owe you one,' the dawnling continued, traipsing after Elinyra as she led the way through the forest shade. A cool breeze tugged at the leafy cape he wore, ruffled the baggy leggings poking out from beneath blackened mail. 'If ever you should require help unburying yourself, do not hesitate to ask.'

So far as fate went, Faramund could not imagine anything worse than ending up stuck in a library. All those musty books full of words and knowledge... Why, Hell itself would be more pleasant. Best not think about it. 'I've been well enough,' he replied, 'spend most of my time ranging, thus this rather impromptu visit.' He smiled, shrugged. 'Try to take the days as they come.'

Elinyra Derwinthir

 

[Elinyra Derwinthir]

He still seemed perhaps a bit sheepish about the whole Broofest affair, despite the fact that several of the contestants had ended up getting along poorly with their drinks, and he'd had to compete with a wild variety of races that Elinyra thought had a distinct advantage in that arena.

"You certainly weren't the only one who needed a healer that day," she offered with a chuckle, thinking back to the unusual being, Marchosias, and their rather dramatic attempt to inhale one of the brews.

She shrugged, still smiling. "And don't mention it. I was only doing what they hired me for." Though she knew she would have helped anyway. "I might have to take you up on that offer. It's nice to get out and stretch the legs with good company." Spirits only knew she needed the fresh air after poring over countless tomes in that carefully curated quiet.

The shady boughs thinned again as the two hunters came to a small stream that bubbled and foamed between mossy boulders. Here the trail split three ways, one path going across the stream and two others following the water course. Elinyra pointed out a spot in the muddy bank that had been trampled by split hooves. It showed them that a small sounder of swine had left and rejoined the trail here, headed west.

Try to take the days as they come.

"Mmm..." she murmured in agreement. "It is all we can really do, isn't it?" The flash of a sad smile hidden in the sober observation of their environment. The forest's only comment was a raven cawing in aggravation at a small bird, in some contest for a tree branch.

"The hill isn't far, maybe a half-mile up that way. Looks like they headed that way not long ago. Might get lucky."

Or unlucky, as the case might be: she noted that one of the boar prints was quite a bit larger than the rest. Facing an old boar protecting his sounder would be a dangerous endeavor.

Faramund

 

[Faramund]

'Might is right,' Faramund smiled, crouching down beside the woodland stream to get a better look at the tracks. Elinyra was right. The hoofprints led away from them, down the watercourse and up to the hill she had mentioned. 'Looks like the Old Man of the Forest is with them,' he said, confirming what the druid saw. 'Big bastard from the look of those prints. Hairy, too!'

Stretching out his arm, the knight pointed to a nearby tree overhanging the trail. A tuft of coarse, dark fur adhered to the lower branches though most had been broken away in passing. 'Good thing you've a keen eye,' Faramund remarked, pressing to his feet. 'Hate to tussle with him alone.' That was true enough. Most hunts like this required more than one person. What was it she had called him. Good company?

Well, the elf was certainly that.

Taking the lead, Faramund pulled his face mask up across the bridge of his nose. Scooping up a handful of dirt from beside the stream, he began applying it in smears to the areas not covered by his clothing. 'You often find yourself out here?' he asked, doing his best to flow rather than force his way through the dense vegetation that sometimes blocked their path. 'Or is that a stupid question and you think I should be quiet now?'

Glancing over his shoulder, Fara's mask shifted as he gave the elven huntress a playful smirk.

Elinyra Derwinthir

 

[Elinyra Derwinthir]

With steps light as cats' feet, Elinyra followed Faramund along the single track trail, slowing her usually graceful gait to keep with his stalking pace. Drawing on the innate talents of her people, it took no effort for her to move quietly across the terrain; as if every muscle in her body were constantly aware of each twig or leaf that might snap underfoot and adjusted accordingly.

Elinyra was not thinking about any of that, though she considered that the chaotic breeze had shifted to put them upwind of their prey. They'd have to be careful about how they approached the hill, or their scent would give them away.

"Not as often as I would like," she admitted with a wistful grin, lowering her voice such that it would not echo through the trees. "I come out this way when I find time. It's peaceful. Not many people come out here. Reminds me of home." Except for the familiar presence of her kin - those traces of shared culture that were not missed until they became conspicuously absent. She usually came out here for solitude, but she had to admit that it felt nice to have someone to talk to, and that discussion wasn't centered on immediate survival.

"And stupid - no. But the clearing is close. Might be wise to keep our secrecy unless you're spoiling for a chase?" she teased, though she knew from memory that the hill became quite steep and the terrain below it was covered in dense foliage. Chasing anything through there would be a fruitless endeavor.

They followed the trail up a slight incline, away from the stream. The land formed into a hillock ahead, gentle at its densely-forested roots, but then rising steeply in a rocky ascent that was covered with raspberry brambles. Some of the undergrowth below the hill had been recently rooted up, and wallows dug out of the humus.

Elinyra didn't immediately see any of the hogs, but she had the distinct impression they were around.

"Would you like me to see if I can flush anything out this way?" she whispered.

Faramund

 

[Faramund]

Faramund shrugged. 'Not particularly,' he whispered, slow-walking along the bank. Boars were bloody fast, and if they chose to fight instead of flee, Fara knew he may well end up as their dinner. Not a pleasant thought, that. But then few deaths were.

Feeling the ground beneath his feet begin to steepen, the knight shut his mouth. It wouldn't do for them to spook their prey. Not yet, at least. Shifting his grip on the boar spear, Fara made his way steadily up the hillside. Mossy roots and thick foliage slowed his progress, and for a moment the knight doubted they could pull this off. A few hushed words from Elinyra put paid to that, however.

Squatting down beside her, Faramund weighed up their options, nodded. 'I would like you to do what you feel is best,' he replied, his voice a low rumble in his throat. 'I trust you,' he continued, 'and if my trust turns out to be well-placed, then perhaps... yes, perhaps I'll cook you something for your troubles?' A nice meal as reward for a job well done. That was a fair deal, wasn't it? He was no gourmet chef, mind, but he could roast a hog better than most.

Assuming he hadn't tapped into Elinyra's hidden stash of woodland hooch by then.

Hearing a rustling sound further up the hill, Fara tensed up as the first of the boars made their appearance, though, he used the term lightly. Can't see a fucking thing, he thought, straining his ears. With his line of sight broken by the land, all he could go on was his hearing. And Elinyra.

Meeting her eye, he nodded. On you go!

Elinyra Derwinthir

 

[Elinyra Derwinthir]

She gave a single nod to his offer. Deal. In truth it was the butchering she disliked the most, but one couldn't live on berries and fungi alone.

Keeping low in the sparse cover of the undergrowth, she headed off up the hill, keeping to the trees that struggled to gain a foothold against the broken granite chunks and brambles. It was unlikely that the boars would trouble themselves to go deep into those rocks unless they were very hungry, but what she really sought was a better vantage point.

A slight scent of rotten meat met her on the wind. She paused, considering it, then changed her course to try to find the source of the stench. Boars were opportunists by nature, and they might have taken the opportunity to scavenge a fresh corpse.

A thicket of short, twisted trees blocked her view of the raspberry clearing, but in their midst was a tall old oak tree with a couple of low-lying branches. Perfect.

After a quick check to make sure her bow and quiver were stowed securely over her shoulder and nothing on her tunic or pants would catch, she started to climb, up and up until she was crouching on a limb that stretched out over the rocky hillside below.

She had a good view of the bottom of the hill from here. The animals moving around the bushes turned out to be juveniles darting around skittishly and clumping together, as if stressed by something. Elinyra turned her gaze over the hillside, looking for the adults that must have been nearby. Her eyes stopped on dark forms near the bottom of the hill. In the shade of the trees, she wasn't sure, but it almost looked like the ground was covered in blood.

Something broke through the treeline near the spot she was looking at before she had a chance to climb back down the tree. She heard the crack of splitting wood from there; undoubtedly Faramund would have heard it too. She hoped he did, for the form of a huge boar came through the underbrush, its tusked head swinging back and forth in agitation. It was moving at a trot towards the bottom of the hill, not far from Faramund's last position.

Elinyra quickly removed her bow and quiver and nocked an arrow, a knot forming in her stomach as she sighted her shot. Something was wrong.

Faramund

 

[Faramund]

Faramund kept his eyes peeled as Elinyra disappeared on up the hill. Flowing like water over rock, the druid was quick to lose herself amongst the grey-green smear of tree and root. The scout in Faramund admired her ability, whilst the man worried about her wellbeing. Not that concern for one's fellows would do him any favours, not with the Old Man of the Forest still walking and rutting about.

Where was the big bastard anyway?

Repositioning to further up the slope, Fara turned his gaze back down the hill. The gentle breeze tugging at his mask and cape could change at any moment, he knew. And if he didn't give the game up, one wrong step from Elinyra surely would. Fortunately for them both, she weighed half as much and looked twice as pretty. Faramund wasn't sure where exactly the latter factored into their chances of success. It probably didn't.

Oh well.

The rustling from before returned, and suddenly Fara had no more time for pretty elves. Raising his boar spear, he crept slowly towards the sounds. Panicked squeals made him hesitate, however. What had them so worked up. Had they caught his scent, or had Elinyra taken one risk too many?

The wind shifted, and in a flash of realisation, Faramund knew just what the pigs were afraid of. What the fuck, he mouthed silently, hunching low as something big appeared from the foliage three dozen meters behind him. Big, his shaggy hide marred by numerous cuts and blisters, the Old Man of the Forest turned his head in Faramund's direction.

Still as a statue, the big knight watched as it began to climb the hill towards him. What the hell happened to it? Faramund thought, taking note of how the skin around the old boar's eyes seemed to blacken and peel away, like someone had taken a lit torch to it. Pustulant sores covered the underside of the boar's neck and throat. Even the tusks seemed to be darker than was natural.

Keeping his eyes on it, Faramund began to back up towards where he believed Elinyra to be. The hunt was never going to be easy, but now it was looking downright deadly.

Elinyra Derwinthir

 

[Elinyra Derwinthir]

At first, the boar only put its great head down and shook it side to side, sending up dirt clods where its blackened tusks scraped the earth. A pocked and discolored front hoof scratched the ground. Its nostrils flared, taking in the scents of the hunters nearby.

Lifting its snout again, the old boar started to trot up the hill towards the retreating Faramund with a warped, guttural howl of outrage - or hunger.

Elinyra's vantage point on the tree gave her a good view of the scene unfolding below. Cursing under her breath, she let the first arrow fly. Her aim held true, and the boar jerked to the side with a squeal of surprise and pain when the projectile buried itself in its thick hide. If nothing else, she now had its attention.

She expected that the boar's injury would cause it to turn and flee, but whatever was affecting the unfortunate creature seemed to spur it into a rage; with a monstrous roar, it charged towards the tree the elf was standing in with all of the fury its stocky body could muster. She nocked another arrow, but hitting even a large target moving through the shrubbery was a more difficult endeavor, and her arrow hissed by it and clattered into a jagged chunk of granite.

The branch beneath her feet shuddered as a mass of muscle and bone slammed into the oak. She nearly lost her footing, but managed to grab onto a branch above her and pull herself towards the trunk. She held on for dear life as the boar continued to slam its tusks and head into the tree despite the smears of blackish blood it was leaving behind.

Faramund

 

[Faramund]

The first of Elinyra's arrows -when it came- whistled down from somewhere off to Faramund's left. With his eye on the boar, he breathed a small prayer as the beast started in pain. Faramund didn't know what Elinyra tipped her arrows with. Iron, maybe. Out here, stone was just as good. A bit barbaric, to be sure, but it got the job done nine times out of ten.

This must've been the tenth.

Turning its rage upon the elf, Faramund slid left along the hillside as the boar hunted down its attacker. Having caught her scent, or perhaps out of some strange kinship to the forest, the beast was able to find the elf in an instant. Another arrow flitted from the treetops, grey feathers trailing. A miss! Moving swiftly through the underbrush, Faramund kept to the boar's blind spots as it threw its huge bulk against the bough of a tall oak.

A figure stumbled, slipped from the lower branches. Quick, even under pressure, Elinyra was able to hold on long enough for Faramund to make his move.

Breaking from the underbrush, the big knight drove his spear into the boar's flank. He had been aiming from its hindlegs, but the big bastard had moved at the last moment, throwing his aim. Shit, Faramund thought to himself, thrusting again. His spear-point tore into the meat covering the side of the boar's belly, missing the liver by inches. The shaft bent in his hands as the pig turned, enraged.

Withdrawing before he lost the weapon entirely, the knight attempted to lure the boar back. Whatever was wrong with it, it was still an animal at the end of the day. A pissed off, corrupted animal, the business end of which was now facing him. Ah!

@Elinyra Derwinthir

 

[Elinyra Derwinthir]

The boar spun around to face its second enemy, saliva foaming and dripping down cracked grey lips; dark blood flowing from the fresh wound in its side. The beast could see nothing from its diseased eyes, but it had adapted to the new senses that this pestilence brought - not quite sight, not quite smell - and was keenly aware of the two small creatures on either side of it.

With a furious snort, the boar charged back towards the spear-wielder, swinging its head to the side in an attempt to skewer the hunter on its tusks. The man wasn't close enough for a full charge, and the deep gouge he had made slowed the animal's progress. It could only rely on survival instinct mutated into a rabid desire to kill.

Up in the tree, Elinyra sent another arrow at the enraged creature, this time piercing the hide on its upper right torso. Yet the boar did not turn its focus away from Faramund, and she feared that by the time she found a critical mark, it might be too late for him. She had to try to arrest its onslaught.

The druid crouched down on the branch she was standing on, pinning her bow to the oak as she placed her hands on the bark. Trying to ignore the growing burning sensation in her blighted hand, she turned her focus into the tree. Into the roots of the oak and the raspberry bushes all around.

Help me stop-

Before she could finish sending her mental request to the plants, the brambles below shuddered and started to move. Rocks were sent tumbling down the slope as coarse roots burst forth from the earth around the boar and thrust at its legs like living spikes. The boar jumped, trying to clear the new obstacle, but a few of them struck its hind legs with enough force to send it crashing into the jagged rocks.

The boar stumbled back onto its feet, its hind legs punctured and bloody, and momentarily dazed by the unexpected attack from beneath its feet. Elinyra watched this with sudden alarm: she had only intended to ask the roots to ensnare the beast. Had the defiant plantlife attacked Faramund as well?

Frantically, she searched the hillside for a sign of her imperiled companion.

Faramund

 

[Faramund]

The stench of blood was thick in the air as Faramund withdrew into the thicket. Relief flooded his veins, but worry filled his head as he jabbed and thrust at the boar. Even bleeding profusely, it was still a force to be reckoned with. Come on! Think, Fara, think! Crabbing backwards, his legs bent and ready to push, the knight thrust his spear towards the boar's eyes. An arrow thumped into its back, and the boar reared its head, tusks a-swiping.

One caught the spear shaft hard enough to pull Fara off-balance.

'Fucking hell!' he cursed. 'Powerful bastard, ain'tcha?' The boar snorted, pawing at the ground as it prepared to charge. Here we go, Faramund thought, readying to leap one way or the other. Fortunately -or perhaps not?- he never got the chance. Hearing something burst from the undergrowth behind him, the dawnling twisted desperately to face the new threat, only for something to strike him in the leg, hard.

His feet were knocked out from under him, and Faramund barely registered the pain before he was being tossed end over end through the air.

The ground hit him like a warhorse, and the knight blacked out. When he came to, he did so all at once. 'Oh...' he managed to groan out, coughing as blood filled his mouth. Rolling onto his front, Faramund attempted to spit it out. Someone somewhere was screaming, but he was pretty sure it wasn't him. Scrabbling around in the dirt, his cape half-blinding him, Faramund felt his hand close around something sharp.

Pulling it closer, Faramund squinted as the arrowhead caught the sunlight.

'Thanks, Elinyra,' he mumbled, staggering to his feet. Looking around, he was surprised to find himself nearly two dozen meters from where he had been. His weapon was gone, as was his sense of up and down. Gagging, the knight threw up bile and blood, and damn near faceplanted as the world reeled around him.

Up the hill -or was it down?- the boar was busy being assailed by plant life. Faramund would have found it amusing, had he not just been violently sick. But he had, so he wasn't. 'Elinyra!' he shouted, coughing as he cast his gaze about for the elf. Was she okay, or had the bramble roots attacked her too? 'Elinyra!' He called again, stumbling backwards as the boar turned its ugly maw towards him. Their eyes met.

The boar charged.

'Oh, fuck me!'

Elinyra Derwinthir

 

[Elinyra Derwinthir]

The boar quickly recovered from the roots' wrath. Blood foamed on its jaws as it launched itself towards Faramund, breaths wheezing shallowly and its chest heaving in exertion. The broken ground was even more treacherous than before, providing no straight path to its enemy, but its rage carried it straight through the nuisance plants with a tremendous crash.

Elinyra heard Faramund's shouts before she spotted him sprawled on the ground. Seeing that her arrows seemed to have little effect on the beast, she half-climbed, half-dropped from the oak, her feet hopping from stone-to-stone down the uneven slope crowded with thorny brush. She knew there was no way she could get to him before the boar - but maybe she didn't have to.

She hoped for a miracle as she reached out with her mind towards the corrupted boar to communicate with it; if only for a moment of connection that might give it pause. Shock and torment gripped her as the animal replied with the full depth of its anger and pain.

The druid immediately fell to her hands and knees with a cry of pain. Jagged rocks dug into her flesh, but the injury went almost unnoticed compared to the sensations that flooded her mind: the deep gash in the boar's side, the buildup of fluid in a punctured lung, and above it all a pressing intent that drove the beast into a murderous fury.

The boar's thoughts were torn by terror and internal strife. Elinyra swore that she briefly felt another mind that was not the boar's, as if another druid was somehow communing with it from a distance. She pushed against the presence with all of her will, trying to break whatever connection was driving the beast mad.

She tried to call something out between weak, shallow breaths, but it only came out as an agonized cry as another wave of pain struck every nerve in her body. Her vision blurred as she fought to remain conscious.

The boar veered away from Faramund at the last moment, so close that he could feel its hot breath as it passed by him and turned its attention to the elf on the hill.

Faramund

 

[Faramund]

Clasping the arrow in his hand, Faramund ducked and weaved backwards down the hill, almost tripping over his own feet as he went. There was a pounding in his head that reminded him of war drums, and his legs felt like straw bending in the wind as he retreated in the hopes of finding salvation. Alas, Faramund had always been a nonbeliever, and salvation... well, that was far beyond his reach now.

Or so he thought.

Hearing the shattering of branches growing closer, the knight turned to face his end with some modicum of dignity. He would have preferred it if he had a weapon in his hand, but all he possessed was a single arrow. And my bare hands. The thought came unbidden, but suddenly Faramund felt like he might not have to die after all. Of course it was then the screaming started.

The boar, so close now he could have reached out to touch it, turned to stare back up the hill. Blackened, sloughing flesh draped the beast from head to slowly-swishing tail. Damn, Faramund mused, all this effort and we can't even eat the damned thing. He almost laughed at the stupidity of it all.

Instead, he ploughed forwards, catching the boar by surprise and jamming the barbed arrowhead into its eye.

Squealing in pain, the boar bucked wildly as Faramund vaulted its back. Digging into its stinking, putrefied fur with his hands, the big knight held on for dear life as it kicked and jumped its way back up the slope. His left knee pressed against something slick and wet. Looking over his shoulder, he noticed the fresh blood staining his trouser leg. Not mine, he realised, though, how could he really tell at this point? He knew he was hurt, knew he probably wasn't thinking straight.

Hell, he was riding a giant boar for crying out loud! So far as stupid decisions went, this was up there.

But it was all he had. Clinging tightly to the boar's bristly fur, Faramund dug his legs into the beast's sides, worked to open its wounds further. The boar, blinded by anger and rage and pain, threw itself into the trees and rocks with wild abandon. Faramund felt something in his leg pop as the boar ground itself against the side of a boulder.

Reaching forwards, he got his own back by driving the arrow deeper into its eye.

The beast reared, swiping with its tusks. Faramund cursed as his hold finally gave way. Slipping from the boar's back, Fara landed with a hard thud, narrowly avoiding a flailing hoof as it passed by his head. The boar staggered away, back down the hill. Sightless, and losing strength rapidly, it tusked the brambles and anything else that got in its way until, finally, it sagged to the ground.

Dead.

Watching his chest rise and fall, rise and fall, Faramund counted down the seconds until he, too, faded from existence.

Elinyra Derwinthir

 

[Elinyra Derwinthir]

With a force of will, Elinyra managed to sever the connection between her mind and the boar's once Faramund had mounted it. The phantom pains soon receded, and she forced herself back to shaking feet with gasping breaths. She regretted that she couldn't leave the poor beast with a sense of peace, but at least they could put it out of its misery.

Finally, after a final vicious stab in one of its blind eyes, the boar collapsed and grew still. Elinyra rushed over to where Faramund had crashed to the ground.

"Faramund? Can you hear me?" she asked as she knelt beside him to look him over. Cut, bruised, and with one leg turned just enough that it appeared it might be broken - her first thoughts were grim. Usually she would have just used some healing magic immediately to relieve whatever pain he might be experiencing, but she recalled from their first meeting that such spells would not help him.

For the moment all she could do was shred strips of cloth from parts of her robe and cloak to bandage his bleeding shins. At least he didn't seem to be bleeding profusely - she could only hope that nothing inside him was either. Without magic, there wasn't much she could do about internal trauma.

She considered her options. Looking around, she figured she might be able to rig some sort of stretcher to carry him out, but it was over ten miles back to the nearest settlement; a long journey across rugged terrain for someone with injuries. For his sake, she hoped he could walk.

-----------

Walking out the miles between them and the nearest village had proven to be impossible with Faramund's injuries. Elinyra could hardly leave him here with the threat of such monstrous animals around, so she crafted a makeshift sled from parts of her tent and woven willow branches and had him hold onto it for all but the roughest territory.

It was well past nightfall by the time they made it into the tiny village of Ekesa and summoned the healer there, but at least they had made it.