A forest runs wild

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ripshaw
Posts: 32
Joined: Sat Apr 26, 2014 2:09 pm

A forest runs wild

Post by ripshaw »

Ripshaw begins to doze. A mild breeze makes soothing sounds as it pushes through the tall grass. Weather clear and cool, perfect for being outdoors. Cracking one eye, the ranger peers at the prostrate form of a napping man across the creek. With a pole sagging in hand and a bobber floating within a yard of the shore, its easy to see that the fisherman has lost all interest in catching dinner. Once more Rip feels the pull of sleep. Wondering if perhaps his last few hours standing vigil have been for naught, a sound brings all the life back into his limbs. Straining to hear, he puts his hands beneath him and smoothly pushes himself onto his knees. Another sound. Ripshaw sniffs at the air, noticing now the change from sweet to sour. Pulling several arrows from the quiver at his hip, he plants them into the dirt point down at his side. Stringing his bow, he tests the draw. Without taking his eyes from the sleeping form, he nocks and half draws an arrow. Anticipation of whats to come sends his nerves into action. Closing his eyes, he takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. As he opens his eyes, they are sharp and focused. Rip Waits.

Within minutes, shapes start to materialize from the darkness of the forest. 3, 4, 5, heads he counts. From the guttural noises, the ranger knows they are trolls. A 6th form comes into view as the others are close to the man. Bringing his bow up, he fully extends the string and sights. Drawing a spear over its shoulder, the lead troll flexes and stabs down into the belly of the sleeping fisherman. Confusion for a moment and then the same troll reaches down and picks up the bundle of straw posed as a person. Arguing ensues. At that moment, Rip chooses to strike. His arrow takes the back troll in the throat. Blood spurts as it drops its weapon and tries to staunch the flow. All others turn to it and weapons are being drawn. Fluidly, Ripshaw takes another arrow from the dirt and knocks it. His second arrow punching into the chest of the lead troll with the spear, sending it sprawling backwards into the others. Four left. As the trolls brandish their weapons, experience takes over and panic ceases. They turn their eyes to where the arrows are coming from. As one they begin to charge towards the ranger. Showing no outward emotion, Rip nocks a third arrow. This one catches a troll mid leap across the creek, its momentum is stopped cold and it tumbles straight down into the water. Three.

As the trolls close in, the ranger abandons his bow. Drawing his Ranger sword in one hand, he pulls his stag knife out of his boot and stands. Cloak billowing in the breeze, he stands straight and quiet. Three large trolls bearing down on him, screaming wordless battle cries. An axe is raised high and brought down. Ripshaw springs into motion. Blocking the axe with his raised sword, he lunges past the first troll. Stabbing his stag knife into the inside of the second trolls thigh, he smoothly spins away. Leaving the knife where it was imbedded, he blocks a spear thrust from the third troll. A second lunge nearly takes Rip on the hip, instead tearing his cloak. Recovering, the ranger feints high and with quick speed reverses low and draws his sword across the belly of his attacker. Dropping the spear, the troll desperately tries to keep things from falling out of place. Reaching down to where his stag knifes poison has left the second troll immobile, he pulls it out and with a flick of his wrist buries it into the eye of the first troll as it turns back from where the block had left it unbalanced. Within moments, the forest sounds retake the field. Rip looks around at his attackers to be sure none will rise. Aside from the troll twitching from the poison, all is deathly still.

Wiping his sword on the closest trolls cloak, he regains his knife and tucks it away. Searching the trolls reveals nothing of consequence. With a thoughtful expression, Rip leaps the creek and picks up his bait. "You have had better days, eh?" he chuckles to the bundle of straw. This was the 4th patrol that the ranger has ambushed in the last few days. Dirmloth forest has indeed become wild again. Wondering at the implications, he resolves to report to Sylvanna. Perhaps the rangers can start regulating the forest again. In the meantime, he will continue his ploy. A ruse learned years ago in his wars with oligar. Amazing how well it still works. With a clear plan of action, the ranger rounds up the materials and prepares to move.
ripshaw
Posts: 32
Joined: Sat Apr 26, 2014 2:09 pm

Re: A forest runs wild

Post by ripshaw »

It had been a week since Ripshaw had sent word to the guild. Still he had received no official word that the Rangers would get involved in what was transpiring in the forest. Truth be told, he wasnt exactly sure anything sinister was afoot. Knowing that the trolls were no longer hiding away or keeping to themselves, was enough to have the ranger watching their every move. Looking to the heavens, he judges the time to be about 40 minutes till sunset. Thin clouds lazily moving across the sky in random patches help to obscure the sun as it makes its final decent. Almost time to get this show on the road. Crouching down behind a thicket of shrubs, Ripshaw continues to watch the large warband making camp a short distance away. He was forced to hire Mercenaries to help out until his guild was committed. Taking out patrols or scouts were one thing. Finding large groups of angry trolls roving the forest was another demon entirely. Although he would love to be able to take them on alone, he was smarter than that and therefore turned to soldiers for hire. Since joining Fate, he didnt feel comfortable pulling people into situations where they could be hurt or worse. So rather than ask the youngins to help, he asked Grint to put a team together. A plan was devised and he was to be the bait.

As he sits, he begins counting. The band was indeed larger than he had originally surmised. Not by much, but instead of 16 he now counted 24 trolls of all shapes and sizes in the clearing. One enormous troll seated on a log in the center seemed to be their champion. Looking up at the sky again, the ranger judges it to be time. Standing up from his hiding spot, with the hood of his cloak pulled over his face he begins to walk slowly into the clearing. At first noone even notices, which works in Rip's favor. He continues to walk uninhibited towards the champion still seated. As he gets within 15 feet of his target, trolls begin to take notice. Gasps can be heard and then suddenly silence. Trying to maintain his composure, Ripshaw smiles and puts his hands out to the sides. "Hiya" he says. "Just wondering if by chance you gents have anything to drink?" he continues walking. As he gets close enough to smell the big, tough looking bastard; the champion rises to its feet. Unsure what to make of the elf in their midst, none make any move to stop him. Still holding his smile the ranger stands still as the champion troll shouts guttural things into his face, clearly angry. "One second, I have something here." Rip says as he moves to check his pockets. With one lightning fast motion, the ranger draws his sword and beheads the champion troll in full view of the entire warband. The response is immediate.

Turning on his heel, the ranger begins to run back the way he came. Pursuit is not long in coming. Howls could be heard over the thunder of many feet. Trying not to let his fear get the best of him, the ranger makes sure his followers dont lose sight of his fleeing form. As he moves, he quietly prepares an invisibility spell. Cutting off the spell at the end, Ripshaw takes a left hand turn and suddenly runs into a long ledge directly in his path. Running up to the wall blocking his path, he slowly turns to look back at the angry mob beginning to pen him in. Cautiously the trolls move forward now. They have him dead to rights. Caught between a 12 foot ledge and an angry mob of trolls, Rip cant help but wonder how he got himself into this mess. As the trolls advance beyond the tree line and into perfect position, the ranger vanishes. More guttural sounds and angry gestures. They keep pushing forward into the clearing.

"NOOW!" Ripshaw yells as he comes back into view on the far left of the ledge, where the sides come down to meet the forest floor. Suddenly the air is alive with the thrumming of bow strings and crossbows being fired. Painful sounds of impact mark the successful shots of each man. The ledge shelf is alive with soldiers, all firing down into the clearing and the bunched up trolls. Some make a break to the right and left, but Rip is there with a axe wielding soldier to protect the archers flanks. Grint and another spear wielding fellow guard the opposite flank. Mayhem ensues. Bodies pile up to the steady tune of released bowstrings. A few trolls angrily come at Ripshaw. Blocking an overhead thrust of a sword, Rip watches as the axe wielding soldier cleaves into the side of the attacking troll. Blood sprays them both. On the right, Grint moves with fluid motion as he dispatches any foolish enough to move his way. Within hours, or merely moments the sound dies down. All instruments of death go quiet, replaced by the gurgles and whimpers of the dead and dying. Sheathing his sword, Rip wipes the blood from his face. Another successful ambush. 24 dead trolls, 0 dead soldiers. A rare overwhelming victory where trolls are concerned. Whooping and cheering can be heard over the blood rushing in the rangers ears. What else do you do, when you survive a duel to the death? Rip Smiles.

Moving over to his friend, they clasp forearms in the warriors greeting. A twinkle in Grint's eye is all the reaction he gets. They nod to one another with respect. Turning to his now amassed group of soldiers, the ranger makes to speak. "All loot is yours, gents. A job well done." he says aloud. Pulling a bag of gold from his pouch, he tosses it to the nearest of the group. "My thanks for all your help here today. Drinks are on me!" As the cheering dies down, Ripshaw and Grint survey the carnage for a moment longer. "Hire folks to bury these bodies Grint. Please?" Rip says to his friend. "Ive got a report to write up." From somewhere, the ranger procures a snifter of cherry brandy and takes a long sip. Wiping his mouth with his sleeve, he hands it over to Grint and turns to leave. Smiling at his back, the monk takes his own long sip of brandy. Passing it off to the next man, Grint starts giving orders.
ripshaw
Posts: 32
Joined: Sat Apr 26, 2014 2:09 pm

Re: A forest runs wild

Post by ripshaw »

Ripshaw blinks into view inside the area designated for recalls, within the Rangers guild. Davis had just left Dev center with his package and all he wanted to do was blow off some steam. This new developement in his life was confiscating an enormous amount of his mind. Focus and mirth had been elusive and he was itching to do something different. Stepping into the main room, he descends the ladder to the base of the tree. Checking his spells and weapons, he takes a moment to poison his stag knife. Concentrating everything he had into the motions, trying hard not to let it enter his mind. Happy with his work, he sheaths the knife and heads out.

A time later, the ranger is in the northern part of Dirmloth forest. He had begun trying to reclaim the area. It had been tough at first, but old habits die hard. Blazing trails, clearing camp sites and culling the troll population in the area are what Rangers do; and Rip really enjoyed being outdoors. Dirmloth had begun to retake its old shape and ways. Walking silently along the path, he notices some footprints. Scanning carefully, he surmises that it was just a couple travelers heading north into Goldcroft. Moving on, he lets the cool breeze ruffle his hair. Thoughts of the blade creep in and ruin the serene moment. Closing his eyes, he takes a deep breath and pushes the thoughts to the back of his mind yet again. He continues his scouting.

Examining a snuffed out fire pit, the ranger lets his senses take in the surrounding area. Coals are cold and the smell of smoke in the area is all but gone. Leaves and debris blown around the area obscure tracks left in the soft soil. Looking around he finds the remnants of a small animal, most likely a squirrel. Remains collecting flies and other insects are stiff and he figures that the campsite is atleast 3 days old. Dismissing it from his mind, he pushes on up the trail. Anger seeps into him out of nowhere, and the blade fights its way to the front of his mind again. Concentrating inwards, the ranger tries to regain control.

Out of nowhere, a spear shaft hits the tree 4 inches from his face. He stares disbelieving at the shaft as it wobbles. A sharp crack sends flashes of light through the rangers skull and he finds himself falling into a forward roll. Through the fuzz in his head, he hears the howls and grunts of large creatures in real close. Letting his instincts take over, he rolls to his feet. Trying to shake his vision clear, he somehow has his sword in his hand. Without thought his body reacts to incoming swings of the buttend of a spear. Block, back step, duck. Each step back he took, his senses cleared abit more. His last duck sent his attacker past him and he stands up straight. Vision clear, he takes stock of his problem. Three trolls had ambushed him, the first was still trying to dislodge his spear from the base of the tree. Two others were trying to get position on him. After a quick glance, Rip knew he had to move. He attacks.

Luckily, the trolls still think he is dazed so they take their time. Using this, he moves in quick on the troll in front of him. Swinging his sword hard in a downward chop, his enemy is suprised. Somehow it does get its club up to block. Pivoting right, Rip spins and comes in from the left. Again the troll is there, but he moves exactly how the ranger wants. Momentum moves the troll far to the left and off balance. Ripshaw lets him go and instead lunges forward and runs the troll focused on his stuck spear straight through the back. As the troll falls, his sword is wrenched from his hand. Ducking and rolling forward, he unsheaths his knife and lets it fly at the troll who was coming in from behind. A last minute move keeps the troll from taking the blade in the throat. It sticks instead in its shoulder. An angry scream escapes the troll and he launches in on Rip. Having no weapon, all the ranger can do is try to dodge. As he ducks a club swing over his head, a punch takes him by suprise and puts him on his backside. Rolling he puts a tree between himself and the troll who punched him.

Again an oddity. Thuds can be heard followed by the rustle of leaves. Seeing the troll going down beside the tree, Rip gets to his feet. Moving slowly to his right, he notices that the troll is twitching. Expecting the third troll to jump at him, he prepares to move. Instead, a leathery bald head peers around the tree. "Son of a bitch!" escapes from the rangers lips. A smile splits the leathery face to expose perfect teeth. "Never thought Id see the day, a ranger needed help in the woods." Grint says through a enormous grin. "How?" is all that Ripshaw can get out. "Hoy, ya sap. Where else to find a ranger, but the bloody forest?" the monk says as he begins to laugh. Wiping blood from his nose, Rip cant help but giggle with all the emotion. As the adrenaline fades away, the ranger lets what just almost happened seep into his soul. "That blade again, Grint. I cant focus. This time, it almost killed me." A serious look in answer, and then with a lighter tone "I cant let that happen just yet. I believe you owe me money." Both begin laughing. They set about checking the bodies.

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