Othelu'vihai

[CRP Goon 71]

 

 

The Sharp Whisper’s First Hunt

 

”I will be sure to let you know how it performs” Oryl assured Rhathalas, a magnificently crafted Ironwood bow slung over his left shoulder as the young ‘ame turned to leave the Okar’ir’s home. As he stepped out into the forest, he took a deep breath of the forest air. Securing his quiver over the fur pelt that covered his back, Oryl set off at a brisk walk- allowed only by the recent healing of his injuries. As the ‘ame migrated towards his favorite hunting grounds he began to observe the land around him. The path was quiet, although he soon strayed from it, having been in these parts for quite some time, he had little need for the guidance of the often confusing signs that dotted Arcas’s network of pathways. Slowing his pace, he shrugged the bow off of his left shoulder, peering up at the trees that had been greeting him since his very first hunt in the village. The woods around him creating what could only be described as the face of a loved one, always watching over him. As he continued through the woods, clouds began to roll in overhead, a smile was brought to the young hunter’s face as he slowed to a stalk. Carefully placing one foot in front of the other as he glided effortlessly through the woods until he found a large, sturdy tree that seemed to branch out in four directions. Oryl slung his bow over his shoulder briefly, hoisting himself up into the fork of the tree, lowering himself into it as he shrugged his bow off and drew an arrow from his quiver, awaiting any sign of his prey.

 

 

 

 

A flicker of light tan fur against the dark green and brown backdrop of the forest floor caught Oryl’s eye through the rain. A smile crossed his lips as the scent of the downpour filled his nostrils, he straightened himself up slightly to nock his arrow. He saw a large tan hare resting but thirty meters away at the base of a large oak tree. As he notched the arrow to the bowstring, he very slowly drew it back, raising the bow as he did so. Oryl steadied himself, leaning his left shoulder against the tree trunk, drawing a deep breath as he drew his bow. He looked down the straight shaft of his arrow, letting the breath out slowly. As he found the hare, he held the tip of his arrow to be just above the hare’s right shoulder. The tension in his fingers slowly ebbed away. As he reached the bottom of his exhalation, the arrow lept forth from his fingers, the woven-silk string cutting silently through the chilled air. The ‘ame watched in anticipation as his arrow sailed through the air, landing a little to the right of where he had intended. The arrow struck the hare in its midsection near its spine, the furry creature letting out a surprised squeal  upon being hit with such force. Oryl quickly shouldered his bow,  dropping to the ground. He would have landed perfectly if it weren’t for a nearly-healed cut to his right shin, he let out a grunt as he hit the ground but sprinted over to where the stunned hare lay, its back legs thrashing as if trying to escape its own demise. Oryl reached his right hand over to brush his left wrist, a lever-activated wrist blade extended from under his sleeve after a split second, locking into place. He thrust his arm forwards, driving the blade into the hare’s neck, just at the base of its skull. The animal stopped twitching immediately, as Oryl then slowly drew the blade back, shifting back to rest on his knees as he bowed his head briefly, offering his thanks to the aspects for his kill.

 

 

Oryl walked back into the village, the hare in his right hand. He had cleaned the blood from his blade and returned the arrow to his quiver after removing it carefully from his kill. As he passed through the village’s back gates he made his way through the trees in search of the Okar’ir’s home. After a short moment, he caught sight of the blue-clad ‘ame. “Rhathalas!” he called out, a satisfied smile on his face, holding his catch up to the man. “I am proud to inform you that your bow is not only a work of beauty, but a fine and effective work of true craftsmanship, I could not have hoped for a better weapon upon which to string my arrows” he said, as his first hunt with his new weapon had been a successful one. Oryl knew that this bow- Othelu’vihai -would seldom leave his shoulder.