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Painted Moose rolled 2 100-sided dice:
95, 78
Total: 173 (2-200)
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 Posted: Wed Feb 17, 2016 10:42 am
Character || Callum
Stage || 3 (Knight)
Battling || Weywa (x2)
Battle Stat || 30
Defense || 17
Roll Needed || 60-100
Rolled || 95, 78
Outcome || Win, Win
Experience earned || 64 exp
Winning EXP
( ( 16 x 6 ) / 3 = 32 ) x 2 = 64
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Posted: Mon Feb 29, 2016 12:02 pm
It was easy to forget with his laissez faire lifestyle that Callum was actually a trained warrior. His nightly dance sessions had gradually shifted to swordplay under the light of the forgiving moon. She guided his steps across the ice, and made it so he could level his sword against his opponents with a mostly clear head. While he didn't necessarily 'live' by the sword like others in his field of study, Callum did find comfort by it. There was little else to guide him, but his own decisions and the knowledge that his safety rested at the tip of his blade.
Of course, that didn't mean his practice never branched out into actually real world situations. An older patron of the very same inn he and Nimueh had been staying in had seen the shifter hybrid practicing in the snow. It had taken little for the man to approach Callum with a proposition. All he needed to do was to clear some Weywa from a cave, just half a days walk from here so that his son could retrieve the supplies they had left within. They had taken temporary refuge in the cave from a rather nasty storm, and had unfortunately found out too late that it was occupied. His grandsons had lost their lives, and his son was too buried in grief to do the job himself. If Callum could bring get rid of the Weywa he would be handsomely compensated.
Naturally, Callum had been all too happy to help. Instead of sleeping the night away beside his lover, he had stayed up until the morning light preparing for his day trip. Callum left a message with the innkeep, who promised to deliver it to Nimueh once the other had properly awoken. There was no need to wake him up from a good rest for something like this; besides, a few Weywa couldn't be too bad, right? He would be back before the end of the day with a fat purse and enough coin to buy his lover a proper meal.
Before the sun had even risen Callum had set off on his journey. The day seemed to drag on, though perhaps that was because he was tromping through snow that came halfway up his calves. By the time he reached the actual cave the old man had mentioned the young man was winded, and trying to breath deeply, despite the frigid wind, just to stop wheezing.
Callum stood outside of the cave long enough to catch his breath before making his way inside. The opening was narrow, and deceptive; hiding the true expanse of the cave from outside eyes. There was just enough natural light filtering in for him to see the path before him. Where are they? Callum's boot caught on an object, and upon inspection he found he had kicked aside a canteen. These must be the supplies, and that meant the weywa weren't much further off...
Two sets of unified snarls alerted him to the dark pelted creatures eerily close to him. Callum barely had time to draw his blade before the first attacked. He had known them to be normally dormant animals, though he supposed the interruptions first from the old man's family and now Callum had disturbed their rest. His blade made a wide arc, cutting through flesh as it went. The first weywa gave out a painful cry, which was accompanied by the second tackling Callum to the ground.
It's sheer size knocked the breath out of him, but Callum wasn't ready to give up just yet. He felt claws slicing through through his coat, digging into his left shoulder, no doubt adding more scars to already disgusting patch of skin. Callum brought his sword up, piercing through the weywa's throat while it was too focused on his flesh to defend itself.
Pushing the beast off of him, he rolled up to stand and defend himself against the second creature. The battle lasted longer than the first, with each side taking substantial damage before finally he rammed his sword to the hilt inside of the weywa's chest. It felt with a gurgling cry at his feet, much to Callum's relief.
His wounds ached, but the swordsman felt oddly accomplished. Nimueh would surely have questions once he returned, especially now that Callum was in dire need of a new coat that didn't have claw marks and blood all over it. Still, as this was the first time in his life that he hadn't been taken down by a creature, Callum felt good. Empowered, even.
Now all he had to do was make it back to the inn without falling into a snow pile.
(WC: 781)
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