[Closed] [Eastern Vienda riverside] Clocking is that?!
Posted: Thu Jan 14, 2021 3:58 am
14th Hour, morning, 12th day of Roalis
Mid day was almost upon them, Maro knew as he walked the river path. Boots displacing dirt and kicking about small pebbles as he eyed the tracks before him. He had been making an attempt to practice his tracking this morning, at the koment the kint had no need for meats, deciding to break out the perserved venison and hogs meat as they journeyed towards their destination.
The two previous days they'd decided to stop to rest the animals and themselves from the long travel, sometimes a couple of days to simply relax was needed before they ventured further.
So Maro had taken the time to travel the river path, having spotted dreah deer tracks eariler and decided to track them. Dressed in his drab hunting furs, the wick had no reason to believe he'd be meeting amyone here this far out, his bow strung on his back amd dagger sheathed snuggly behind his back, the Wick thought he was having a good show of it.
His eyes told him it was a small herd, judging by the number of hoofprints, there could have been no more than five. The prints left behind a shade different than the the dirt surrounding told him it was recent, perhaps a couple of hours, perhaps more he couldnt quite say.
As he walked the trail, leavimg his own tracks behind no doubt for some curious person to follow, he watched the distance between their steps. It seemed they were going at a leaisurely pace much like himself.
Each step formed a chain of prints, broken only when the herd stopped to drink from the river, lingering a bit before moving onwards. Conseqiently the prints left behind were fresher, the soil softer and of course... their leavings softer as well with a very defined scent.
Maro mused a bit, pondering that if given time he'd come back here later on to see if he could hunt them himself for his own uses. If they stopped near Old Rose, he could bag one.and bitcher to sell its meat to someone there, fish was their normal deal wasnt it? Perhaps some venison would freshen their day and fetch the hunter some money for his pockets witout having to break into his own savings or handouts drok his Daobrunno.
Then after a bit the trail grew erratic, as if the deer were startled by something that had them step into the river before making a mad run way back onto land!
His eyes turned to find a much different trail... this one more akin to a wheel from a wagon. Maro knelt down to it, unlike a wagon whatever left this trail seemed to displace more dirt and it seemed more erratic, the line breaking when it collided with small obstacles and pressing them into dirth.
In fact the indentation left behind seemed particualry strange. The Kints his fami travelled in where usually heavily loaded, their wheels pressing deeply to leave bheind such marks and from what Maro could see is that whatever this single wheeled thing was it left behind a similar mark, did such a thing that could carry such weight wxist in slite of being one wheeled?
He ran a hand through his hair, unsure of what to make of it, but it snagged his curiousity. Eventually he would reach the end of the trail to a sight of some odd looking thing.
"What the clocking hells is that?!"
The two previous days they'd decided to stop to rest the animals and themselves from the long travel, sometimes a couple of days to simply relax was needed before they ventured further.
So Maro had taken the time to travel the river path, having spotted dreah deer tracks eariler and decided to track them. Dressed in his drab hunting furs, the wick had no reason to believe he'd be meeting amyone here this far out, his bow strung on his back amd dagger sheathed snuggly behind his back, the Wick thought he was having a good show of it.
His eyes told him it was a small herd, judging by the number of hoofprints, there could have been no more than five. The prints left behind a shade different than the the dirt surrounding told him it was recent, perhaps a couple of hours, perhaps more he couldnt quite say.
As he walked the trail, leavimg his own tracks behind no doubt for some curious person to follow, he watched the distance between their steps. It seemed they were going at a leaisurely pace much like himself.
Each step formed a chain of prints, broken only when the herd stopped to drink from the river, lingering a bit before moving onwards. Conseqiently the prints left behind were fresher, the soil softer and of course... their leavings softer as well with a very defined scent.
Maro mused a bit, pondering that if given time he'd come back here later on to see if he could hunt them himself for his own uses. If they stopped near Old Rose, he could bag one.and bitcher to sell its meat to someone there, fish was their normal deal wasnt it? Perhaps some venison would freshen their day and fetch the hunter some money for his pockets witout having to break into his own savings or handouts drok his Daobrunno.
Then after a bit the trail grew erratic, as if the deer were startled by something that had them step into the river before making a mad run way back onto land!
His eyes turned to find a much different trail... this one more akin to a wheel from a wagon. Maro knelt down to it, unlike a wagon whatever left this trail seemed to displace more dirt and it seemed more erratic, the line breaking when it collided with small obstacles and pressing them into dirth.
In fact the indentation left behind seemed particualry strange. The Kints his fami travelled in where usually heavily loaded, their wheels pressing deeply to leave bheind such marks and from what Maro could see is that whatever this single wheeled thing was it left behind a similar mark, did such a thing that could carry such weight wxist in slite of being one wheeled?
He ran a hand through his hair, unsure of what to make of it, but it snagged his curiousity. Eventually he would reach the end of the trail to a sight of some odd looking thing.
"What the clocking hells is that?!"