Stench Of Fresh Blood [[Open]]

[Snickerspods]

Drayl's hooves thundered as they bit into the soft turf below, proppelling him after his wounded prey. The small deer shied clumsily as Drayl feinted left, swinging his right dagger round in a perfectly timed movement that saw it sink into the vital spot just behind the animals skull. The familiar and disturbing sensation of his blade sinking in to the hilt, warm blood spurting around his hand , brought a triumphant smirk to Drayl's lips as he caught the suddenly limp body. Bringing his headlong sprint to a rolling halt Drayl hoisted the carcass and flung it over his shoulder, ignoring the trickle of blood that rolled down his back. His blades were suddenly nowhere to be seen. With the stench of fresh blood flavouring the air Drayl didn't even try to hide his movements, knowing futility when he saw it. The forest fell silent as he carried death back to his camp, located in a clearing fortunate enough to have a clear pebble lain brook running through it. His things were exactly as he'd left them, his fire banked low but still alive. Taking his game to the brook edge, he settled his horse half to the ground, tucking his long muscled legs beneath his deep defined chest. His black tail fanned out on the ground behind him as he bent to the task of dressing the carcass. He grasped his dressing knife securely in his hand, ignoring the slight sting that always followed. He worked quickly and efficiently, blood twisting through the water as it trickled down the pebble bank and caught in the current. Once done Drayl splashed water across his hands, chest and back. He shucked his shirt and rinsed it in the water, tossing it over a low bush as a temporary clothes line. Burying the bits of his kill he could not use Drayl then spread the skin on a flat rock and using his short sword scraped every last bit of flesh from the skin. Once finished he placed it in an oilskin and rapped it with twine, preserving it just long enough he calculated to be able to bargain it off to someone that could tan it.

Eventually he knelt to the fire and coaxed it back to cooking life, spearing two quarters of his meat on green wooden spear and driving them into the ground so that the meat drooped suspended over the fire. The other two quarters he tied with rope around their ankles and hoisted from a relatively high branch to avoid scavengers. Finally satisfied Drayl settled to the ground, this time by the fire, and finally let himself feel the chill against his back and the heat against his chest. To the casual observer he appeared relaxed and unencumbered, but to anyone with half a wit of training his carefully studied indifference bespoke his level of alertness.

[Bayard]

The scent of deer blood reached Bayard's nostrils a few moments before he crept upon the camp of what appeared to be a male centaur. Though he despised all mythic creatures, he could not help but admire the efficiency of the centaur with his meal. Now here was another male that knew how to hunt well. If he had been a human, Bayard might have been friends with him, but as it was, they were sworn enemies.

Silently swinging his loaded crossbow into position, he set his sights on the centaur's horse half, in order to prevent any escape after wounding him. Just as the hardened man slid his finger over the trigger, the wind changed, faintly bringing his scent towards the centaur....

[Snickerspods]

Drayl was impressed; it took some real skill to creep up on him, even if he had noticed him a split second later. As roasting meat began to fill the air Drayl wondered when he would make his move, giving no outward sign that his personal hunter had been made. He calculated his options, silver eyes discreetly picking out the details of his watcher through the foliage, the darkness no barrier to his gaze. He caught sight of the crossbow mostly by chance; the movement had been so silent and wholly concealed. He didn't like this, and calculated his suddenly diminished options. He knew the crossbow itself wouldn't be a problem, but a human skilled enough to wield it so well could well be.

The uniqueness of his eyes wasn't something most if any knew about, and Drayl wasn't about to let this man know that. Instead he took the time offered him and strategized whilst he continued to cook his meat, turning it occasionally. However, when the wind changed and brought the stench of male human straight to him, he knew he couldn't pretend any further. Plus, the sudden ka-chunk of a released bolt had him moving in a flash. His blades slid into his palms, the spike in pain as always heightening his awareness as his wrists healed over where they had exited. Everything seemed to move slower in this heightened perception, only slight enough to give him an edge. The blade shape he had summoned was his preferred curved blades, the ones that curled backwards blade edge out around his knuckles. He bent his human torso low, black legs spreading wide to offer a solid footing as he twisted his right arm in a clockwise windmill motion from his bent torso. His left arm curled around his ribs, protecting them instinctively. The klang! of metal against the blue sheen of his weapons rang loudly as the bolt ricocheted off, not even a scuff left on their supernatural surface. The moment the arrow head impacted with his blade Drayl was moving. Leaping into a gallop, he thundered towards his quarry, a frighteningly calm expression in contrast to the almost gracefully aggressive way in which he moved. He knew now that this creature was as skilled as he had believed, knowing that if he was even a fraction too slow with his deflections that he could be in danger.

[Bayard]

Bayard inwardly cursed his misfortune when the wind altered its course. The centaur knew of his presence before the bolt flew from his crossbow. This could prove disastrous…

He was definitely amazed with the speed of the centaur in his reactions, though he did think on that for long, as the cursed being was charging towards him. It was too late to reload. Instead, Bayard reached for the dagger at his belt and flung it with skilled precision towards his attacker, privately hoping that the centaur would not react quick enough. Just in case it missed its target, he had another trick up his sleeve. A mystical net. Though he hated using magical weapons, Bayard was not going to turn down the opportunity to use this stolen elven web against the wretched creature before him…

[Snickerspods]

The blade was thrown swiftly and efficiently, slicing through the atmosphere with alarming accuracy. Drayl knocked it aside, though this time it did not fly clear and nicked his naked muscled shoulder as it sailed past. Blood beaded the thin line, though superficial it still stung, heightening Drayl's perceptions still more. He snarled silently, altering his course and thundering into the thick underbrush of the forest instead of towards his attacker. Thrown weapons were of little use in this dense scrub, an advantage but also a hindrance to Drayl's much larger centaurian stature. He considered the pros and cons levelled out, and he would no longer be such an easy moving target. He brought himself to a rolling halt, the rotting foliage that littered the floor here sending up their warm earthy smells as he carved furrows with his sudden brake.

Drayl moved silently and quickly into the shadows now, his gleaming silver eyes guiding him in the darkness. His pitch black body blended uniformly as he circled behind his enemy, approaching from the right with the wind at his chest. Why do you hunt me little man, He thought as he tested the balance of his weapons in each hand. I thought the bounty on my head died with me, Drayl considered the memory of faking his death, splitting the bounty money with an unusually entrepreneurial bounty hunter. At the time it had seemed appropriate, what with the sudden dwindling in Centaur's and other magic types he had wanted to lay low. He had yet to track down Thalldyn, and with the dwindling in rumours that had been becoming increasingly difficult. He scowled in the darkness, testing each movement in a careful quick auto-movement that kept his location quite so long as he stayed in the thicker flora. Not for the first time in his life he grumbled mentally about his height, so often a hindrance when one was trying for stealth. I mean, who didn't notice a roughly 11 foot high centaur? [from ground to human shoulders.]

[/size]

[Bayard]

Bayard growled to himself as he watched his trusted dagger miss its mark and only slightly wound his foe. This could definitely get messy... Before, he could plan his next move, the centaur had slipped into the shadows and all but disappeared. Bayard swiftly loaded his crossbow and retrieved his fallen dagger in the seconds following the centaur's escape. He felt very uneasy about being out in the open while the creature who nearly tripled him in size was safe among the trees.

Wheeling around to check all directions around him, the man gruffly shouted, "Coward! Come out and take me, face-to-face!"

[Snickerspods]

"You would call me a coward?" Drayl asked from his hidden position, a slightly mocking tone in his calm vocals. "You have hidden in these same bushes, have shot at me with weapons intended to keep you safely distanced from direct combat; no little man, I am not the coward." He kept moving as he talked, so that his voice could not lead this skilled sharpshooter to his location.

With his foe now out in the open Drayl could observe him much more accurately, noticing the thick red hair and harangued expression with a smirk. He knew that they were likely to get nowhere with this stalemate, and he was getting bored of this exchange. "I propose a compromise; we each are allowed use of our bladed weapons only, and duke this out 'face-to-face' as you proposed." He flexed his grip on his two daggers, feeling the smooth pull of their magic against his blood.

[[OOC: Quickest way to capture him; lie and ambush him with the net. Since you're dude is a dark lying isn't exactly out of the question.]]

[Bayard]

Bayard contemplated his rival's offer while scanning the shadows surrounding him. It was difficult to determine from whence his voice came, since it echoed off all the trees in various directions. He knew that he could never best his foe with the small blade he carried with him currently, but he had another less honorable option in mind. He chuckled silently as he remembered the elven net in his possession. One of the greatest qualities about it was that it could never be damaged or cut. The centaur's blades would be of no use against the net.

Slinking into the darkness of the trees, Bayard replied, "I accept your offer, centaur. Allow me to retrieve my blade from my pack before meeting you in the clearing."

Bayard rummaged through his pack noisily in order to make his statement more convincing, though he already knew where his net was..."Ready when you are, beast!" he shouted "Let me see your face!"

[Snickerspods]

Drayl watched his foe search the bracken with his gaze, smirking as he seamlessly shifted from shadow to shadow. It was almost fascinating watching him think about the compromise he had been offered. There was something in his expression that reminded Drayl rather strongly of a snake, if it were squatter and had too much facial hair. The sudden image this thought provoke had him snickering silently in the darkness as his rivals voice carried to him, accepting his wager.

"Please, don't let me stop you." Carried laughingly after him as he went to fetch his blade. He watched him rummage through his pack for a moment before moving into position across the way. The smell of tender meat was beginning to fill the clearing, and Drayl hoped this could be done with quickly so he could feed his human stomach. Feeding on plant life alone could sustain him, but it never really satisfied him truth be told.

Still wary of this man's weapons Drayl stepped into the clearing, prepared on a precipice of awareness to block another bolt if he must. "Well then beatie, let's begin." At his full height Drayl shifted his weight onto his quarters, ready for any sudden leap in direction that might be necessary. If he intended to engage him in combat with blades he had to get a might closer, and Drayl intended to make him show himself before he got that close.

[Bayard]

Keeping beneath the darkness of the trees, just on the edge of the clearing, Bayard stood noiselessly and shifted to the side to allow the nets magical properties to camoflage itself around his arm. After maneuvering his small hunting knife into his strong hand, he stepped out into the dimly lit glade. He knew that his seemingly harmless hunting knife would draw a laugh from his opponent, but he hoped to use that to his advantage. The centaur would obviously underestimate him and not be prepared for the net he would encounter.

Bayard hid his self-satisfied grin behind a countenance of steel as he muttered loud enough for Drayl to hear, "Ready when you are, beast..."