...just another day on Carcosa?

[Merctime]

Sorrows keeps his arrow nocked, but the tip of it pointed to the leafy floor. He slowly comes out of hiding, seeing his two companions doing so, and shifts his bow slowly from side to side in case the serenity of the place is again shattered. He will approach slowly, circling around a bit, keeping a vigil on the group as they go about their respectively chosen tasks.

[Blackrazor]

You emerge from cover with Blood Skald heading toward to fallen archer cautiously. The Maws immediately take notice of Blood Skald's approach the growl menacingly as they bound towards the tall man of white.

[Grognardsw]

Blood Skald will stop when the maws turn aggressive. He'll draw his sword only if they don't stop, hopeful he may yet help the hunter.

[Merctime]

((Sorrow's orders remain as the above post))

[Blackrazor]

The slavering black maws race ever closer towards Blood Skald, who fearing the worst draws the mighty Death Song and sets himself into a slaying stance. The blue man lifts his bow and draws it taut his arm shaking slightly as he holds his breath and aims. Gibbering, stone stlll, tenses slightly as he watches the beats bear down on the man of white.

Blood raises his sword, as the first strike must be true, murmuring an old battle tune of his forefathers. The beasts now a few scant heartbeats away, Vale's fingers begin to loose his arrow aimed at a maw's chest.

Gibbering can literally feel the maliciousness of the chariging things, as even he readies for blood.

Two shrill tones pierce the air and the beasts stop - so close Blood Skald could easily step forward and touch one with his blade.

Another strange note and the maws turn tail and retreat towards the archer, who leans painfully on his elbow, whistle in hand, before he once again collapses.

[Grognardsw]

Blood Skald of Doom exhales deeply as the maws pull back. He wonders if he could have fended the hounds off. He doubts for very long. The reaver sheaths Death Song and slowly approaches the hunter.

"I would help," Blood Skald grunts as he nears. He offers the hunter water as he looks at the wounds and prepares to clean them.

[Merctime]

Sorrows will yet keep bow at hand and slowly circle the area about Blood Skald and the Hunter. When his path brings them nearest the warrior and the injured man, he would say, "Does that one live, large one?" to Blood.

"A strange place we have found ourselves in, fellows... I feel as if our presence here, and the goings-on just now, are in no way a small contrivance. Does someone, or something, know we are here and toy with us?" He muses, as much to the tree-tops as to his companions.

OOC: Intentions for Sorrows... He will skirt the area around us to act as a sentry of sorts.

[Blackrazor]

OOC - Merc the whistle is in the archers hand. Go ahead and edit your post if you like

[Alethan]

Gibbering approaches the downed archer, then passes by as Blood Skald tends his wounds.

He stops a few paces past them, watching the path the large beast made in its retreat, in case it decides to return.

[Blackrazor]

Blood Skald approaches the wounded archer, nodding to Sorrows, as he passes by, affirming that the fallen man yet lives. Gibbering glances down at the archer as he passes continuing forward peering down the wake of the creatures retreat through the strange woods.

The archer, a man of brown, open his dark eyes in wide amazement upon seeing the trio of men, then a spasm of pain causes him to grimace and squint.

The man of brown nods slightly at Blood's offer of assistance, who immediately sets about trying to bind the horrific wounds.

Time passes as Blood works diligently, the area returning to life, as avians and other beasts begin to murmur, chirrip and chattril. The black maws squat statue still, broken only by the occasionally snort or scratch. Eeirie and out of place, the beasts seem.

Gibbering and Sorrows return from their watch, taking a knee next to Blood, observing him work.

Blood looks up at his fellows, as he applies bandages made from long strips of the fallen man's cloak. "it's bad, but the wounds are cleaner, and the bleeding mostly stopped. He is strong ....and lucky," says Blood grimly.

The brown man opens his mouth, and though his breathing is labored, he gasps his thanks. A brown finger moves feebly, in a labored attempt to point at himself.

"I am Body," he rasps.

[Alethan]

Gibbering nods and says,"Gibbering called am I. Big teeth chattered away, receding into the gums. Safe are we from its bite for a bit."

[Grognardsw]

"I am Blood Skald, of the far north," responds the albino reaver. "Where is your home?"

He helps Body up. If the man cannot stand on his own feet, Blood Skald will make a stretcher from two cut big branches and a cloak.

[Merctime]

"Body, it is, then?" Speaks Sorrows, as much to the trees and foliage as to anyone else. He then focuses his attention on the fallen man by turning to face him. "Sorrows of Vale and Mire, at your service. I see my compatriots have already introduced themselves." The blue man's face passes a momentary quizzical look before returning to one of seriousness.

"Pray tell, what brazen notion brought you to attempt to hunt such a beast? Sport? Nourishment? Did it assail your homestead?"

As Blood Skald brings the stretcher-wood, Sorrows will kneel down to assist in getting the man emplaced in such. "Blood Skald, allow me to assist you if I may." His attention again turns to Body. "Now then... It seems the question of where we are to take you looms at the forefront? Do you have some shelter we might retreat you too, some people whom will care for you?"

[Blackrazor]

The wounded man moans in pain. He is seriously hurt and can not move on his own without reopening his wounds, this Blood Skald finds obvious, as do the others.

With Sorrow's help, and his traveling cape, the mobile bed is assembled in very little time. The barrage of questions, and introductions go unanswered as the men prepare to move the archer. Body stiffens as they reach to move him, ready for the explosion of impending pain. Impressively, Body does not cry out, but shutters vigorously and moans.

That small move seems to drain the archer considerably, his complexion grows very pale. Then men wait patiently, worried that moving him more would strain him too much. In time, Body's labored breathing, calms, the suns slowly march towards the end of day where they will be devoured by the horizon.

Sorrows' cards bring some amusement, as the men pass time, but it becomes obvious that the day will run out before they will be comfortable moving the man. And all the time the black maws, sit still like statues.

That night the trio sups upon tree skitter, thanks to Sorrows keen aim. The forest's nocturnal din subsides as quiet is pulled over everything like a blanket. Gibbering fingers the great black bow, and is impressed by its alien strength, and suppleness. His knowledge of bows intimate, Gibbering is shocked to discover that even he can barely draw the great bow. Looking at his companions, he knew they would fare no better.

Still pondering the weapon, the silence is broken by a raspy voice, "it is impressive isn't it, may I have water?"

Gibbering turns, nods vigorously and trots off to fetch the brown man some fresh water.

Blood grunts, pleased to see the man recovering. Sorrows take the opportunity to ask his questions once again, hoping for some answers.

Body slowly replies, "Yes, my home and people are not too far from here. A few passings of the sun and we could be there. The hunters can lead us there on the sun's rise, they know the way.". He then descends into a fit of painful coughs.

Gibbering's water and the men's watchful care calm down the fit and once more the brown man breathes easier.

The morning welcomes another hot and humid day, the forest canopy a small boon. The companions find their charge awake, chatting softly with one of the maw's in a guttural tongue.

The conversation completed, Body blows a series of strange musical sounds with his whistle and the maws slowly advance along the river. Another fit of coughs strikes the archer, who waves the men on to follow the beasts.
The men hurriedly break camp, pick up the mobile bed, and head off.

Sorrows attempts to take a spot carrying the man of brown, but is kindly shooed away by the stronger men. Gibbering nods towards the maws and gives Sorrows a concerned glance. Picking up on the unspoken cue, Sorrows, bow in hand, flanks the group eyes peeled for trouble.

[Alethan]

Gibbering carries his burden, mostly in silence, pondering the strength of the great black bow. Even his addled brain realizes, however, that there is no use in coveting something one cannot use...

[Merctime]

"It will prove interesting to see how your folk lives, I should think..." Sorrows says to the ailing Body as he is carried along, and then adds, "And having some place to settle ourselves for the moment may be beneficient." ...To his comrades. He trudges along, not too fast for those carrying the burden of the man Body, and keeps bow in hand in case of mischief.

[Grognardsw]

Blood Skald of Doom carries Body along silently. He feels a faint hope that the stranger will lead them to answers on where they are in this world.

[Blackrazor]

The trio follow the black maws west and north along the water's edge, occasionally seeing one or two maws break off from the pack and disappear into the woods only to return some time later and rejoin their mates.

The first days travel goes slow, but is uneventful, Body wearily rests and speaks rarely only with requests for food, water, or rest. He seems genuinely thankful, though in much pain.

The second day however brings with it a foreboding change. The forest is once again eerily quiet, not silent.....however it seems wary. Unsure and worried that the conjoined monstrosity is once again on the prowl, the party slows it pace and keeps an eye out for trouble.

By midday, nerves are frayed, even the forest seems ready to erupt. Then it happens, the air filled with the rhythmic sound of flapping, so loud and strong that only a flyer of considerable size could produce it.

Body's eyes are wild, and the maws are uncharacteristically skittish...could they even feel fear? The wounded man, whispers for everyone to lay low if not hide.

Amongst the trees and shrubs the group lies still, eyes glued to the gaps in the canopy, and the open scar that exposes the bright sky above the water. The back maws lie flat on the ground in patches of dark shade unmoving.

Then it flashes past, the tress swaying, the leaves rustling in it's wake. The rush of air tugs at hair and clothes.

A great flying reptile, ridden by a figure....all to quick to gather details just hints and suggestions.

Then it is gone. Body, shakes his head, warning the trio to stay put. Time passes, the suns again march slowly across the sky and still they wait. Then Body gives a quick nod to move, and the party sets out once again ever more wary than before.

Before, the men can ask their questions Body speaks.....(to be continued)

[Blackrazor]

In hushed tones Body speaks to the others carrying him, the wounded man appearing more animated, "That was a sky lord. At least that is the name they call themselves.. self styled crusaders. They are raiders, rapists, killers, enslavers. They bring fire and death where they land. It is a boon that we were not discovered by that seeker. Every few cycles they return, thier city of wings darkening the skies. To them murder is sport. They seek to destroy the Body, but have been thwarted thus far. When you see a sky lord, hide, if you can not hide...run...run as fast as the arrow flies and do not look back."

[Grognardsw]

Blood Skald of Doom listens to Body with foreboding. Sky lords... creatures that fly like the gods or Great Old Ones? The northerner has flashes of his strange dream.

"We shall be wary of them," says the white reaver.