80 Zi'da 721
Dan had learned about the bounty when he was in Rharne, getting his ponies re-shod, and had taken some time to think about it and prepare. Outside of the actual rut, any stags that hadn't been successful in collecting a herd of does for themselves would gather in a bachelor herd - a herd of all stags. Deer needed the safety of a herd, be that a breeding herd or a bachelor one, to survive and avoid getting taken down by predators. That meant that his first task had been to locate such a bachelor herd and find where it regularly travelled and what watering holes and grazing grounds it used. The first two herds he had found had both been breeding herds, but his third had been more successful.
The meadow where the bachelor herd often grazed had a good climbing tree on the edge of it, one of the outliers of the forest, perfectly positioned to make a watch post for hunting, with a thick branch that swooped down to waist level. Dan had used it for that purpose before. Now he slung his bow across his back, placed both hands on the branch, and jumped. He landed awkwardly, belly down and half the breath knocked out of him, gasped for a moment and then crawled and clambered to his feet to carefully walk up the slope of the branch to the main trunk. From there, he steadied himself on the trunk and pulled himself up onto a higher branch that overlooked the meadow itself. From here he could see trails worn through the long grass of the meadow by the various animals that came here to eat. He kept climbing until he was well above the height even a large stag could reach, and then stopped, found himself a sturdy branch to sit astride, where he could lean back against the tree trunk, and made himself as secure and comfortable as he could. He drew his bow free, grasped it so that it rested lightly against his legs, and waited.
He wore leather and patched cloth, none of it dyed, although the leather had been smoked over his fire to give it something of a weatherproofing. The smoking process also turned the leather some shade of yellow or brown. The exact shade varied depending on what you were burning in the fire to create the smoke, so none of the pieces matched. Still, the motley collection of browns and beiges broke up his outline and helped him blend into the woods better. Brown was a much better colour for blending in than green, which was why creatures who depended on blending in for their lives - like rabbits for example - also tended to be mostly brown. There wasn't much he could do about his hair though, which was sunbleached pale enough to catch the eye. Still, being up in the tree helped. Not so many creatures looked up, and as long as he didn't make sudden movements to catch their attention, he could stay mostly out of their view.
A small group of deer - perhaps half a dozen - came down one of the trails, with their heads up, eyes and ears and noses searching for danger. Dan stayed very still, watching to be sure that no more were coming. At last, the little herd of stags ventured out into the meadow and put their heads down to graze. One of the younger ones (judging by the size and complexity of its antlers - antlers became bigger and more complex with every arc the stag in question lived) even turned side on to Dan's tree, giving him a clear view of the vital spot just behind the shoulder. That would be his best chance, and his best shot, though he could try for others. He moved slowly, trying to be quiet, and eased an arrow out of the quiver, nocked it on the string and crooked his fingers to hold it in place while he drew. The young stag grazed a bit more, then lifted its head again and all but posed, making the perfect target of itself. Dan lifted the bow, aimed, and shot. The arrow sank deep into the deer's side, and it staggered a few steps before its legs buckled under it and it sank to the ground. This time, at least, Dan thought with wry, rueful amusement, the deer wasn't landing on him. Deer were rather heavy.
The smell of blood and the sound and sight of the young stag crumpling brought the heads of all the other deer up in another search for danger. Dan stayed where he was, and moments later, when the wind shifted and brought his scent to the herd, he was very glad he had. The oldest and largest of the stags spotted him and came stalking towards his tree rather than fleeing. It circled the tree twice, as if considering how to reach him, then backed up a bit, lowered a truly magnificent set of antlers, and charged.
It hit the tree trunk hard enough to make the whole tree shudder. Dan instinctively clamped his legs tighter around the branch as it bucked under him like a horse trying to buck him off. He braced himself against the trunk and drew another arrow. There were tales of hunters who had been chased up into trees by deer and then been stuck up in the tree for trials because the deer held a grudge and wouldn't leave. Dan had no intention of being stuck up here for trials himself. When the stag lowered its head for a second charge, Dan took advantage of that momentary stillness to loose his arrow. It sank in, but the deer charged anyway, clearly trying to shake him out of the tree and onto the ground where he could be trampled by the larger, heavier, and faster animals.
Dan added a hand to the knees he was clinging on with, and the shock was just as fierce the second time. The deer didn't back off for a third run though. It wavered, propped up by the antlers resting against the tree trunk, wobbled for a moment and then toppled, looking almost resentful. Dan took a deep breath and swallowed hard, then lifted his bow again. Normally, when he was hunting for food, he would only take a single deer. A single deer would feed him for at least half a cycle, and was about as much as he could easily process and store and use before it went off. But he wasn't hunting entirely for food right now, nor entirely for himself - though he had every intention of making use of every scrap of meat and hide all the same. He was hunting because there were too many deer for the land right now. He was protecting the land and that meant taking other lives.
He took aim at a third deer, just as the two youngest of the deer decided the blood smell was too much and bolted. He let the bolting deer go and focused on the ones still within range. The third deer was moving and it took several shots before Dan managed to get an arrow deep enough to kill it.
The fourth and final deer froze and Dan bit his lip as he took ruthless advantage and took that one down while it was still and an easy target. That was all of them. All the ones that had stayed around long enough to kill anyway. Dan sagged for a long moment, letting his head fall back against the tree trunk. He owed the deer not to waste their deaths though, overpopulation or no. He stowed away his bow, hooked the quiver onto his belt, took a good grip on the branch and half slithered, half scrambled down to the next level. From there it was only a short, grazing, slide down the rough trunk to the ground. Dan landed on bent knees to absorb the shock, and made for the nearest deer, the old one beside the tree. He reached it, pulled the arrow free with a small gush of blood, cut its throat to be sure, and cut an ear free as being easiest to transport for proof that he had killed them. "Thank you for your life," he told it, and moved onto the next to do the same.
The weather was cold, which meant that the meat would last longer, but it would be harder to dry it. Now, who did he know who might also want some venison?
"Signed words" Spoken words
OOC Note
This thread is for the Stag Population Culling Bounty
Stag Population Culling: The stag population has exploded over the past few seasons. This has had the effect of increasing the aggression and proliferation of several predator species such as wolves, bears, and mountain lions. A reward has been offered to any who help cull the stag population, as well as those who return with predator pelts to show that those have been dealt with as well.
Reward: Choice of a masterwork+ ranged weapon created from no greater than tier 6 materials.
Stag Population Culling: The stag population has exploded over the past few seasons. This has had the effect of increasing the aggression and proliferation of several predator species such as wolves, bears, and mountain lions. A reward has been offered to any who help cull the stag population, as well as those who return with predator pelts to show that those have been dealt with as well.
Reward: Choice of a masterwork+ ranged weapon created from no greater than tier 6 materials.
The meadow where the bachelor herd often grazed had a good climbing tree on the edge of it, one of the outliers of the forest, perfectly positioned to make a watch post for hunting, with a thick branch that swooped down to waist level. Dan had used it for that purpose before. Now he slung his bow across his back, placed both hands on the branch, and jumped. He landed awkwardly, belly down and half the breath knocked out of him, gasped for a moment and then crawled and clambered to his feet to carefully walk up the slope of the branch to the main trunk. From there, he steadied himself on the trunk and pulled himself up onto a higher branch that overlooked the meadow itself. From here he could see trails worn through the long grass of the meadow by the various animals that came here to eat. He kept climbing until he was well above the height even a large stag could reach, and then stopped, found himself a sturdy branch to sit astride, where he could lean back against the tree trunk, and made himself as secure and comfortable as he could. He drew his bow free, grasped it so that it rested lightly against his legs, and waited.
He wore leather and patched cloth, none of it dyed, although the leather had been smoked over his fire to give it something of a weatherproofing. The smoking process also turned the leather some shade of yellow or brown. The exact shade varied depending on what you were burning in the fire to create the smoke, so none of the pieces matched. Still, the motley collection of browns and beiges broke up his outline and helped him blend into the woods better. Brown was a much better colour for blending in than green, which was why creatures who depended on blending in for their lives - like rabbits for example - also tended to be mostly brown. There wasn't much he could do about his hair though, which was sunbleached pale enough to catch the eye. Still, being up in the tree helped. Not so many creatures looked up, and as long as he didn't make sudden movements to catch their attention, he could stay mostly out of their view.
A small group of deer - perhaps half a dozen - came down one of the trails, with their heads up, eyes and ears and noses searching for danger. Dan stayed very still, watching to be sure that no more were coming. At last, the little herd of stags ventured out into the meadow and put their heads down to graze. One of the younger ones (judging by the size and complexity of its antlers - antlers became bigger and more complex with every arc the stag in question lived) even turned side on to Dan's tree, giving him a clear view of the vital spot just behind the shoulder. That would be his best chance, and his best shot, though he could try for others. He moved slowly, trying to be quiet, and eased an arrow out of the quiver, nocked it on the string and crooked his fingers to hold it in place while he drew. The young stag grazed a bit more, then lifted its head again and all but posed, making the perfect target of itself. Dan lifted the bow, aimed, and shot. The arrow sank deep into the deer's side, and it staggered a few steps before its legs buckled under it and it sank to the ground. This time, at least, Dan thought with wry, rueful amusement, the deer wasn't landing on him. Deer were rather heavy.
The smell of blood and the sound and sight of the young stag crumpling brought the heads of all the other deer up in another search for danger. Dan stayed where he was, and moments later, when the wind shifted and brought his scent to the herd, he was very glad he had. The oldest and largest of the stags spotted him and came stalking towards his tree rather than fleeing. It circled the tree twice, as if considering how to reach him, then backed up a bit, lowered a truly magnificent set of antlers, and charged.
It hit the tree trunk hard enough to make the whole tree shudder. Dan instinctively clamped his legs tighter around the branch as it bucked under him like a horse trying to buck him off. He braced himself against the trunk and drew another arrow. There were tales of hunters who had been chased up into trees by deer and then been stuck up in the tree for trials because the deer held a grudge and wouldn't leave. Dan had no intention of being stuck up here for trials himself. When the stag lowered its head for a second charge, Dan took advantage of that momentary stillness to loose his arrow. It sank in, but the deer charged anyway, clearly trying to shake him out of the tree and onto the ground where he could be trampled by the larger, heavier, and faster animals.
Dan added a hand to the knees he was clinging on with, and the shock was just as fierce the second time. The deer didn't back off for a third run though. It wavered, propped up by the antlers resting against the tree trunk, wobbled for a moment and then toppled, looking almost resentful. Dan took a deep breath and swallowed hard, then lifted his bow again. Normally, when he was hunting for food, he would only take a single deer. A single deer would feed him for at least half a cycle, and was about as much as he could easily process and store and use before it went off. But he wasn't hunting entirely for food right now, nor entirely for himself - though he had every intention of making use of every scrap of meat and hide all the same. He was hunting because there were too many deer for the land right now. He was protecting the land and that meant taking other lives.
He took aim at a third deer, just as the two youngest of the deer decided the blood smell was too much and bolted. He let the bolting deer go and focused on the ones still within range. The third deer was moving and it took several shots before Dan managed to get an arrow deep enough to kill it.
The fourth and final deer froze and Dan bit his lip as he took ruthless advantage and took that one down while it was still and an easy target. That was all of them. All the ones that had stayed around long enough to kill anyway. Dan sagged for a long moment, letting his head fall back against the tree trunk. He owed the deer not to waste their deaths though, overpopulation or no. He stowed away his bow, hooked the quiver onto his belt, took a good grip on the branch and half slithered, half scrambled down to the next level. From there it was only a short, grazing, slide down the rough trunk to the ground. Dan landed on bent knees to absorb the shock, and made for the nearest deer, the old one beside the tree. He reached it, pulled the arrow free with a small gush of blood, cut its throat to be sure, and cut an ear free as being easiest to transport for proof that he had killed them. "Thank you for your life," he told it, and moved onto the next to do the same.
The weather was cold, which meant that the meat would last longer, but it would be harder to dry it. Now, who did he know who might also want some venison?
Filler Text Filler Text
