He was born for this. More then ever before Honiahaka came to understand this as he raced forward, the powerful ,muscles of the Allirian mustang flexing at they shot ahead. He knew the horse to be fast but he never dreamed the beast was capable of such a feat. Behind them a cloud of dust rose form the ground, joined by the spray of earth as they carved a path of their own. Despite their current situation, Sure Foot had never felt such freedom in his life.
She was born for this, soaring high above the plains, the sky her domain. Her vision was sharp, able to track the slightest of movement below her. From below, Honiahaka looked up and saw nothing but a small speck in the sky, despite his own amazing vision. The hooded spine eagle glided upon the wind before choosing her prey. Like an arrow released, she dove, wings tucked in to increase her decent as the ground below screamed upward.
In time, he would find that he to was born for this. He moved in rhythm with his mustang signs of near a life time spent in the saddle. He and the Allirian mustang were one and as such, there was no waver of his hands as he notched an arrow and raised his bow. The motion was a testament of how often he had practiced, the draw smooth and fast, eyes locking upon his target before he lead his shot. The arrow released, a missile of death blurring through the space between the one who fired and the intended target.
It happened so fast that Honiahaka had little time to appreciate the beauty of the shot as he powered on. Behind him, the man he took aim on sat slump in his saddle, arrow jutting through the back of his neck as he released his death gurgle, blood bubbling from the entry point of the arrow. Soon enough the man would fall from the saddle of his horse to meet the earth below, a rag doll of limp limbs as the horse continued on, none he wiser.
Beside him, a screech tore through the air and Honiahaka looked to see his eagle tearing at the face of another rider, it's talons leaving a ribbon mess of gore. The eagle had ended that mans hunt but there were more in his party. Behind him were a group of five men, marauders that set upon him as he left the Spine. A man not as naive as himself may have been able to spot the trouble. The man of the spine didn't know better. All he saw were the two in the middle of the rode, squabbling among themselves. That was the set up he would later realize. The pair made it seem as if they had issue with one another, drawing attention to themselves so their mates could come up from behind. They demanded coin and believed the lone traveler made to give them such. All Honi had to offer was a throwing knife to the eye of the man who reached for his horses reins before he took off.
Naive enough to stop at the first place he clearly had no reservations about defending himself thankfully. Raised along the Crobbear Lake by the Spine, the land was relatively peaceful however those who settled there did suffer the occasional run in with cutthroats and vagabonds looking to escape the law. These desperate men could fall victim to foolish acts that often ended in death. The area belonged to Orc tribes and they had a firm grasp on how such people should be dealt with.
Though he didn't enjoy killing per say, he did enjoy a challenge, the thought of such hearkening to his youth and the endless tests his parents put him through. If this was to be a challenge of braving the lands beyond, he would take it head on and prove himself the better.
Stealing a glance behind him to his pursuers, he would raise up in his saddle and wave them along, goading them to follow. A string of Orc curses would hurl from his lips as well. Even if they didn't understand what he said, the tone he used should have sufficed.
Who knew life among the Allir Reach could be so exciting?
She was born for this, soaring high above the plains, the sky her domain. Her vision was sharp, able to track the slightest of movement below her. From below, Honiahaka looked up and saw nothing but a small speck in the sky, despite his own amazing vision. The hooded spine eagle glided upon the wind before choosing her prey. Like an arrow released, she dove, wings tucked in to increase her decent as the ground below screamed upward.
In time, he would find that he to was born for this. He moved in rhythm with his mustang signs of near a life time spent in the saddle. He and the Allirian mustang were one and as such, there was no waver of his hands as he notched an arrow and raised his bow. The motion was a testament of how often he had practiced, the draw smooth and fast, eyes locking upon his target before he lead his shot. The arrow released, a missile of death blurring through the space between the one who fired and the intended target.
It happened so fast that Honiahaka had little time to appreciate the beauty of the shot as he powered on. Behind him, the man he took aim on sat slump in his saddle, arrow jutting through the back of his neck as he released his death gurgle, blood bubbling from the entry point of the arrow. Soon enough the man would fall from the saddle of his horse to meet the earth below, a rag doll of limp limbs as the horse continued on, none he wiser.
Beside him, a screech tore through the air and Honiahaka looked to see his eagle tearing at the face of another rider, it's talons leaving a ribbon mess of gore. The eagle had ended that mans hunt but there were more in his party. Behind him were a group of five men, marauders that set upon him as he left the Spine. A man not as naive as himself may have been able to spot the trouble. The man of the spine didn't know better. All he saw were the two in the middle of the rode, squabbling among themselves. That was the set up he would later realize. The pair made it seem as if they had issue with one another, drawing attention to themselves so their mates could come up from behind. They demanded coin and believed the lone traveler made to give them such. All Honi had to offer was a throwing knife to the eye of the man who reached for his horses reins before he took off.
Naive enough to stop at the first place he clearly had no reservations about defending himself thankfully. Raised along the Crobbear Lake by the Spine, the land was relatively peaceful however those who settled there did suffer the occasional run in with cutthroats and vagabonds looking to escape the law. These desperate men could fall victim to foolish acts that often ended in death. The area belonged to Orc tribes and they had a firm grasp on how such people should be dealt with.
Though he didn't enjoy killing per say, he did enjoy a challenge, the thought of such hearkening to his youth and the endless tests his parents put him through. If this was to be a challenge of braving the lands beyond, he would take it head on and prove himself the better.
Stealing a glance behind him to his pursuers, he would raise up in his saddle and wave them along, goading them to follow. A string of Orc curses would hurl from his lips as well. Even if they didn't understand what he said, the tone he used should have sufficed.
Who knew life among the Allir Reach could be so exciting?