Journal of a Stranger.   Posted by Guildmaster.Group: 0
 GM, 50 posts
Thu 25 Sep 2008
at 03:22
Journal of a Stranger
This thread belongs to Emeric

It is hard to tell whether one has ever rubbed shoulders with the mysterious Emeric. There are two likely scenarios that might have happened if one met him - One, either he disguised himself with one of his many pseudonyms and you never knew you met him or two, your had the chance to cross swords with him and to your great misfortune failed to run a blade through his gut. It is hard to tell what motivates such a character, but perhaps this journal can help shed some light on Emeric the Strange.
 player, 17 posts
Mon 29 Sep 2008
at 15:21
Re: Journal of a Stranger
The smell of pine needles filled the nostril’s of the black clad men, as they moved in behind the hind.  One had his eyes fixed on the animal, taking his steps slowly as he approached downwind. Letting his feet nestle gently on the needles, his fingers held the black arrow against the string of his bow, ready to make a smooth pull back when he was sure he was in position.  The other man was just as quiet, and shadowed the archer, his hands carrying a skinners knife and a large sack.  The sound of a blackbird calling out to its mate, stopped both in there tracks.  Ahead of them the hind looked up, and scanned the clearing before going back to picking at the small clumps of grass it had found.  Neither man breathed for a second, before the knifeman took to one knee.  He’d wait now for his colleague to kill, and then get about his business of gathering the meat.
The hind moved to the next clump of grass, and the archer almost swore.  With its back quarters to him, the archer now had no shot.  Cursing his luck, the archer began to watch.  The hind would move again, and he now needed to work out which way.  There were several clumps of grass nearby that had not yet been attacked, but the archer didn’t know which one the hind would choose.  Taking a chance, the archer slipped to the right, away from the knifeman, and found a narrow gap to slip through.  Settling down, he moved his arm into position and waited.  A noise from his left caught both his, and the hind’s attention, and he was ready to curse the knifeman.  He could just make out the man behind a tree, before movement from the hind had him pulling back on the string of his bow.  The hind had turned to look directly at the knifeman, and was in the perfect position for the archers killing bow.  As he was about to release the arrow, the string on his bow snapped, and he swore.  That sent the hind charging off into the woods.
Regaining his balance, the archer was about to stand up and start to re-string his bow, when he noticed the arrow quivering in the tree to his right.  He jumped back as a second one joined it, flashing before his eyes at it went.  Snapping his eyes left, he tried to spot the archer, and saw only trees.  “Skinner, you see him?” he called out, slipping further behind the tree as he waited for the knifeman to answer.  Ten seconds later, and no reply, he called out louder.  “Skinner you scumbucket, what are you up to.  Can you see him?”
“He can see nothing anymore, Bandit.”  Turning around, the archer came face to face with the point of an arrow.  Changing his focus along the shaft to the man, he swallowed hard.  For the man was a boy, and he had the look of death about him.  “We just needed food is all.  The lord wouldn’t have noticed.  Why not.”  He said pleadingly, whilst trying to slip his hand to his knife.  As his hand touched the hilt, the arrow twitched and blood began to run from the cut on his nose.  “You move again, and you die.”  Stepping back, the boy gave out a blackbird call, which was answered quickly.  “Now you will slip your sword belt off, and move into the clearing.  Leave your bow, for you have no further use for it.”  As the bandit did as he was told, he tried to get a better view of the youngster that had killed Skinner, and had the drop on him.  Even hidden under the cowl of his hood, he could just make out dark eyes and hair, but little else.
Standing in the clearing, the bandit stopped and waited.  He couldn’t make out any noises behind him, yet when he glanced the boy was stood there with his bow ready.  “You’ll find a spring in front of you, follow it downstream to where some guards are waiting.  Do not run, or you will die.  You have killed no deer I know of, so you are simply trespassers, in my lords eyes. That’s ten days labour.  If your fellow hadn’t thrown his knife at me, he would also have lived.  Now go.”
 player, 27 posts
Tue 25 Nov 2008
at 18:58
Re: Journal of a Stranger
Naked, shivering in the cold water, and trying not to let his teeth chatter and give himself away, he waited for the hunter to appear.  He had run well over the last two days, using his skills and knowledge of the forest to good advantage.  Now he had run out of space.  Before him lay the falls, and he could feel the water pulling gently against his feet, even though he had asked it not to.  Over his head grew the willow, a fine specimen that had allowed him to crawl under the roots to hide from the searcher.  That the searcher was as talented as him had first been a shock, yet when he had seen the eyes, he knew he had seen those eyes before, and he felt great pride.  The hunter didn't know what he was doing in reality, he was sure, but for the moment he knew he had to keep quiet and escape this time.  Later would be a better chance to meet, when he was back to health, and not recovering from his recent fire.  The women of his life had taken much from him this year, and he needed time to recover.  So as he waited he began to name his soon to be born sons and daughters, knowing that many would never meet him, or know his name.

He stayed there for two days and one night, letting the river caress him, and soothe his aches with its cold embrace, and he slept to the russle of the willow, and the roar of the falls.  He knew he was safe, and that he would come back here sometime to thank the tree, but first he needed to be sure the hunter had given up.
 player, 42 posts
Mon 22 Feb 2010
at 13:13
Re: Journal of a Stranger
It was only a slight russle in the undergrowth, but the height was just right for a man creeping slowly forward towards his position. At that point the archer held his muscles tight, his longbow pulled back three quarters of the way back to his chin. That very action would give any watchers a clue that he had heard them, but Emeric was not really worried about them. He knew the group he was following and the two best archers were currently in his field of view. His own abilities of blending into the trees was probably good enough to keep him safe enough for the moment, and it was the likelihood that they would catch movement rather than him that kept him still.

His breathing was calm and shallow, his arrow already aimed at the big chest of the bandit leader. Emeric would have smiled, if he had known how to, and perhaps even laughed in a better time. Now he kept his position, one he trained to keep for nearly an hour if necessary, and waited for the searchers to move on.

Another russle, and a breaking twig, told him that Gul and Manic were moving behind him. That did bring a smile to the face under the thin green handkerchief. They had assumed he would use range to get a chance at the kill, and yet here he was only 20 paces from his prey. That would be addressed, he was sure, once his arrow was released.

Letting his mind focus on the target, his vision seemed to funnel in on the chest of the man he had been sent to kill not that long ago. Sensing that everyone who might spot his arrow as it left the trees was not quite looking in his direction, Emeric pulled back the bow to full tension and held his breath. As he released the air slowly, his fingers released the cord, and the arrow flew true to hit the target he had chosen.

At that point, all of the hells broke loose, as people heard the thud of arrow into wood, and the yelp of their leader as he felt the cutting of the skin on his arm. With that Emeric knew that the difficult part of the day was about to begin. Now he had hit his target as requested, he had to wait until nightfall to move back out and return to the camp in the morning. With his back pushing into the tree, Emeric felt himself bond with his surroundings, and thanked again his fathers teachings. They would need to be very lucky, or as gifted as himself, to spot him now, and with the uproar now subsiding as orders had been given and men were trying to flush him out of his hiding, Emeric found himself in a place of comfort and fell asleep. With the setting of the sun he would be awoken by the changes in the tree, and he would then move out.