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DraconicFeline rolled 3 100-sided dice:
93, 88, 96
Total: 277 (3-300)
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 Posted: Sat Nov 09, 2013 9:58 am
Character || Ruelash
Stage || Swordsman
Battling || Parak x 3
Battle Stat || 13
Defense || 8
Roll Needed || 80-100
Rolled || 93, 88, 96
Outcome || Win x3
Experience earned ||
3 x (6x 6 ) / 2 = 36*3=108/2=54
(750 words needed)
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Posted: Mon Nov 11, 2013 2:29 pm
Ruelash sat in wait, hidden by the bushes, watching the traps he had set up.
He was after Parak- not just for their fur but because he happened to like how they tasted. Carnivore meat wasn't very good for you, but screw that. He liked the flavor and jerky was jerky and good in a pinch.
He was also after their fur, too, dont get him wrong. It was soft and fluffy and, he supposed, pretty. And his Aldabuck needed something to ward against the winter. It would be stupid for his hard-bought animal to die on him because he couldn't protect it against the cold.
The traps were mainly there to stop the little bastards from jumping around so much. Then he could catch them and kill them as he saw fit. Oh yes, they were useful little bastards. They were indeed.
He'd baited the traps with meat, but the cold air must have dampened it's scent, because they weren't going for it. Maybe it was him. He went away to one of his shelters to set it up for the night. He didn't want to take too much time and let the clever bastards escape, nor did he want to take too little time and scare them off.
But he did take his time. When he stalked back, one was there, waiting for him. It looked him right in the eye, hopped over to the meat, and, stepping over his carefully placed trap, began to ran off with it. Ruelash snarled at it furiously and gave into his anger and the chase. It was fast, but so was he.
He chased it as it ran into a clearing. It was always a step ahead, and Ruelash realized that he couldn't catch the little bugger. He stopped a moment to take out his slingshot, grinning cruelly. It wasn't the best slingshot, but if it stunned the little hopping fox, then it would be worthwhile. He stood behind a tree, setting a rock up to be flung. He could see the creature out of the corner of his eye. It was stopped, looking for him, playing with him. His scent had dissipated into the scent of evergreens as he had charged through them, he supposed, because it's body language relaxed and it put the meat down, chirping it's high pitched bark. Chirps came out in answer.
Ruelash's anticipatory grin widened. He'd stumbled onto a warren of the little shits. He strung the slingshot back as two little white noses came out of a hidden hole in the ground to sniff at the air before the rest of the Parak juveniles followed to inspect the meat. They- almost adults- chirped at the larger one, their faces eager and hungry.
Much like Ruelash's own as he took the shot.
The hard pebble missed his target and hit one of the kits, stunning them. Their mother hissed at him and quickly ushered her kits and the meat into the hole. He stomped the entrance down and began to dig. He could hear their calls, but it only made him dig faster.
"Squall now, you stupid fluffy bastards. I'll get ya." he snarled. He knew they probably had other ways out of their den, he wondered if he should have checked. But he didn't care. The ferocity of the action of digging was enough to satisfy him.
His hands felt fur and he grasped at it, pulling one of the paraks- he couldn't tell which- out, screaming. He stuck it with a blade, leaving it to die as he continued to dig. His hands had just grasped another handful of fur and flesh when little sharp teeth sank into his arm. He let go, bringing his hand up as what had to be the mother hang on. The one he had grabbed, leapt away into the wilds as Ruelash grabbed his attacker and killed it. He tied the two bleeding corpses to his belt and let the other one escape- he couldn't see it anyway. He was satisfied with the destruction he had caused, the cries of the terrified and dying Paraks cheering him for a while.
He went to retrieve his snares- why waste good rope sitting there waiting for Paraks he couldn't trick.
Except, one had been tricked. It crouched, struggling to jump against the noose that held its body down. He looked at it for a moment, his mood improving to something he could almost call cheerful. Then he killed it, picked up his snares, and brought them back to his shelter to prepare them. They would make a fine coat.
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