Wetworks
Posted: Mon Jan 18, 2021 9:52 pm
3rd of Loshis Evening
Tilly took a moment to enjoy the cascade of the dusks pale red light that escaped a familiar canopy of branches and leaves. All the while the bombardment of pitter pattering rain echoed through the brush as it’s watery droplets danced and splashed capriciously. As the downpour became more turbulent the white noise of its melody washed over the landscape.
The fabric of her cloak that often provided sanctuary was to no avail. As the huntress lurched forward and low prowling into the brush. The rolling tide of a harsh breeze allowed the chill of the darkening sky to breach her dampened barriers and gripped her to the marrow of her bone.
Wisps of hot vapor escaped her breath in a plume of trailing mist as Tilly made adjustments to her composure as she pressure tested herself against the elements.
Tilly crinkled her nose in dissatisfaction as she became aware of her surroundings she could smell burning pine and hear the snap crackling pop of its sap. But it was the alluring scent of wild boar cooking over an open flame that caught her attention. She did what any human low life would do, she kept herself downwind and hidden in the silhouettes of trees and shadows.
Smooth bore musket raising as she brought ol kindness to eye level, she fancied herself a pretty good shot from this distance. It was a happy medium of sorts, she wasn’t going to be a headhunter from where she was standing. But the center of mass was a strong option, couldn’t get much worse then having a piping hot fifty caliber slug collapse a lung and leaving a crater the size of an orange as it blew out your back.
Down the barrel of her gun was a young woman with a bow. She looked like a confident archer and those were the most dangerous kind. The audacious notion of a gollie with magic bow powers? Yea, clock that noise! The driving force of fear and adrenaline kicked her senses into overdrive as her focus intensified. The marksman was making adjustments based on the wind and rain as if her life depended on it, because if this was a Galdor it surely did.
Tilly reckoned she could give the galdori a run for there money when it came to powdering her balls. She mentally jested but her nerves were tense. The ambusher brushed away the inhibition as she took a deep nasally breath in then exhaled to calm herself and steady her aim. Anticipation slowly swept through her as her tongue began to grind against her teeth. Tilly remained unfazed as if possessed by unflinching hate while she was eyeballing the lass with rain bombarding her face.
The rifle lowered itself as her finger reluctantly eased itself off the trigger. Pulling away from the scene she’d descend back into the foliage as darkness set in. Tilly realized she stumbled into a wick camp and the notion of harming frontiersmen with no justifiable cause did not sit well.
It came without warning from atop the trees, her owls hoot broke through the white noise of the rain and alerted the lurker to the direction of incoming wicks.
With low visibility there lanterns dim light did little aside keep them on the trails beaten path while Tilly had used her cloak to camouflage herself as part of the terrain. She looked like some sort of mossy abomination as she lay on her belly out of there line of sight.
When the lanterns bobbing light drifted deeper into the woods back to camp. Tilly would get up and stay low, she’d successfully scouted the site while evading detection.
Tilly took a moment to enjoy the cascade of the dusks pale red light that escaped a familiar canopy of branches and leaves. All the while the bombardment of pitter pattering rain echoed through the brush as it’s watery droplets danced and splashed capriciously. As the downpour became more turbulent the white noise of its melody washed over the landscape.
The fabric of her cloak that often provided sanctuary was to no avail. As the huntress lurched forward and low prowling into the brush. The rolling tide of a harsh breeze allowed the chill of the darkening sky to breach her dampened barriers and gripped her to the marrow of her bone.
Wisps of hot vapor escaped her breath in a plume of trailing mist as Tilly made adjustments to her composure as she pressure tested herself against the elements.
Tilly crinkled her nose in dissatisfaction as she became aware of her surroundings she could smell burning pine and hear the snap crackling pop of its sap. But it was the alluring scent of wild boar cooking over an open flame that caught her attention. She did what any human low life would do, she kept herself downwind and hidden in the silhouettes of trees and shadows.
Smooth bore musket raising as she brought ol kindness to eye level, she fancied herself a pretty good shot from this distance. It was a happy medium of sorts, she wasn’t going to be a headhunter from where she was standing. But the center of mass was a strong option, couldn’t get much worse then having a piping hot fifty caliber slug collapse a lung and leaving a crater the size of an orange as it blew out your back.
Down the barrel of her gun was a young woman with a bow. She looked like a confident archer and those were the most dangerous kind. The audacious notion of a gollie with magic bow powers? Yea, clock that noise! The driving force of fear and adrenaline kicked her senses into overdrive as her focus intensified. The marksman was making adjustments based on the wind and rain as if her life depended on it, because if this was a Galdor it surely did.
Tilly reckoned she could give the galdori a run for there money when it came to powdering her balls. She mentally jested but her nerves were tense. The ambusher brushed away the inhibition as she took a deep nasally breath in then exhaled to calm herself and steady her aim. Anticipation slowly swept through her as her tongue began to grind against her teeth. Tilly remained unfazed as if possessed by unflinching hate while she was eyeballing the lass with rain bombarding her face.
The rifle lowered itself as her finger reluctantly eased itself off the trigger. Pulling away from the scene she’d descend back into the foliage as darkness set in. Tilly realized she stumbled into a wick camp and the notion of harming frontiersmen with no justifiable cause did not sit well.
It came without warning from atop the trees, her owls hoot broke through the white noise of the rain and alerted the lurker to the direction of incoming wicks.
With low visibility there lanterns dim light did little aside keep them on the trails beaten path while Tilly had used her cloak to camouflage herself as part of the terrain. She looked like some sort of mossy abomination as she lay on her belly out of there line of sight.
When the lanterns bobbing light drifted deeper into the woods back to camp. Tilly would get up and stay low, she’d successfully scouted the site while evading detection.