Lords of the Hunt [Eitan]

[Brenner Dornkirk]

"Lords of the Hunt"

45 Searing, 121
Southwest of the High City of Zaichaer

The sun had still hung high when the trio left through the Southgate and quit the city proper in favour of wilder lands. Now the sky was awash in shades of pink, purple and orange depending on how the setting sun cast its last few rays of the dwindling day. Although Brenner Dornkirk would soon lead these two unto the breach, that breach was quite a few weeks and quite a few miles off. For their current purposes, Brenner had seen fit to yield up his authority to the newest member of the slowly growing expedition party: Piers Lightborn.

"It's the changing of the guard now." The hulking blonde glanced over his thick shoulder to regard the two men on horseback behind him. "Them what sleep during the day are starting to wake, and them what sleep at night are winding down."

"Well, then, I'm glad I fall into the latter camp." Brenner offered with a snigger and a sidelong wink to Eitan. The Air Commander's smirk was short-lived, as a high-pitched howl pierced the cooling air of the early evening.

"This seems a good spot to make camp." Piers suggested as he slowed his destrier to a stop, and dismounted.

Though the journey had taken the better part of the day, Brenner's recent hire had proven less than prolix. Brenner had jested that he came off as 'the strong silent type', and Piers didn't laugh- His sole response was an estimate of the mileage to their destination. Although both Brenner and Eitan had put forth effort to get to know the imposing freelancer, it had been an uphill struggle and they eventually settled back into their usual familiar banter as Piers rode silently ahead.

Once the horses were secured and the staples of their campsite were in order, Brenner clapped his gloved hands together and wrung them eagerly.

"A night hunt!" He beamed, "Invigorating." Although the youngest son of Dornkirk was no stranger to a hunt, he couldn't recall ever having attempted to an eventide's endeavour. It had been at Piers' suggestion that the two lordlings quit their comfort zones to build skills that might aid them in the Warrens.

"Have you given any thought to what you might be keen to hunt?" Piers inquired, as he liberally powdered the ground with handfuls from a sack.

"I was thinking-..." Brenner paused, suddenly distracted by Mr. Lightborns activity, "...what are you doing?"

"It'll mask the smell of our horses and foodstuffs from predators and owt." He explained, in his typically gruff manner. Brenner grunted and nodded in response, but after a pregnant pause Piers nudged, "...What were you thinking, then?"

"Oh, right! I'd forgotten what I was saying." He bit his lip as he cast a wicked grin to Eitan, who was drawing up to the other two. "In light of recent events in Zaichaer with two individuals who shall remain nameless..." He ran his tongue over his top teeth, "I think tonight I fancy hunting wolf."

[Eitan Angevin]

Brenner's sallies always brought a smirk or a chuckle to Eitan's face, but as they sallied forth, it seemed their instructor for the nonce was not an appreciateur of the younger Dornkirk's sense of humor. In any case, at least some of his attention was being paid to not wincing at the saddle-sores he was afraid he might develop. He knew how to sit a horse, but most of what he knew was for show. Horses were just so much useless weight on an airship, and one had to bring supplies for them, which didn't lighten the load because they just loaded the ship down with manure. No, best leave horses to the ground forces, but he would man up and learn from this and from Master Lightborn. If Brenner saw fit to put his trust in the man, then so would he.

If they were hunting, though, he assumed Lightborn would be teaching them how to track while they did the gunning down of whatever they cornered. At least, based on what he knew from their previous training session with Stefan. All the better—the man made Eitan want to prove himself, and if he could teach the man a thing or two, he would feel more comfortable with the arrangement.

But he didn't leave Brenner hanging whenever he spoke. All the same, he wasn't as chatty as he would be were they instead drinking somewhere within the city limits. They weren't hunting mages and non-human ne'er-do-wells tonight. He paid attention to their guide, getting the sense that he would be a challenging nut to crack if Eitan were to try to counter-intelligence him.

"What is it, though?" Eitan asked of the towering man. Its purpose was important, but so was knowing what he ought to pack were he ever planning a similar excursion without the support.

As for Brenner's latest joke, he snickered. "I thought you sent the dog back home with his tail between his master's wings?"

[Brenner Dornkirk]

Piers shot a cool glare toward Eitan at being pressed.

"Essence of telver root." He replied, in the usual dry tone the other two had now heard enough to expect of their guide. With that having been answered, he returned his attention to Brenner and nodded approvingly.

"Wolves are a challenge. Especially at night when they're more alert and have the advantage of superior vision in low light." A shadow of a smirk might have been tugging at his lips, "Difficult game. They're quite clever."

"Oh," Brenner chortled, "Not the wolves I've met, but I take your point." Brenner's smirk was, unlike Piers' approximation, unabashedly broad as he turned to Eitan, "And so I did." He inclined his head in a nod, "But the memory lingers enough that I would take out my frustrations upon some of his woodland kinsdogs."

With that, Brenner crouched to unpack his hunting gear- starting with his favourite rifle, which he started to assemble as they spoke.

"So, Master Piers..." Brenner began, glancing up briefly to meet the man's gaze, before his eyes darted back down to the task at hand, "Would you care to illuminate us as to the purposes of this exercise?"

"Very well." The larger man began to unpack some of his own supplies, "The woods are not the Warrens, but there are sundry dangers 'ere that you don't face in Zaichaer proper or up in the sky on your fine, fancy ships. Those dangers multiply at night. Our goal here is to attune ourselves to all of our senses- an holistic approach that will serve you well, should you find one or more of your senses handicapped in future.

"When it gets dark, it serves a body well to rely upon hearing, smelling, touching and even tasting." Piers shot a glance to Eitan, "And I understand you're afflicted with other abilities... Is there owt that enhances your sensory capabilities?"

[Eitan Angevin]

"Telver root, thank you," he said mildly, more amused by the man's brusque demeanor than offended.

For this little jaunt into the wild, Eitan had borrowed (read: absconded with) one of the Admiral's hunting rifles. Anything he could have requisitioned from the armory would have been better suited for killing people than game, or even predators like wolves, and so he had made an executive decision to be sneaky. It was easier to beg forgiveness than ask permission, and the old man was likely not even to notice. He wasn't a big hunter, but previous Angevins had been and so there were heirlooms. He assembled the thing while Lightborn instructed. Of course, he was more practiced with his pistol, but he had trained with rifles as well.

He was no sniper savant, but he could get the job done.

"Oh, yes." He looked up from his work. "I suffered the Rune of Negation for the Order. Barriers and wardings and such. I'll sense other wards, but not magic in general. I've an aura glass, though that will also only help should we come across magical wolves." His mouth twisted around the word. He was grateful the magical wolf had been banished back to decadent Kalzasi with his pidge prince.

There were Watchers who had taken Semblance, which might have better suited Lightborn's desires, but Eitan was glad he didn't have it. All he had to watch out for was an irrational sense of invincibility. Those poor buggers had to deal with all sorts of mental trauma from their initiation onward.

His preparation complete, he stood and tucked his rifle under his arm, the muzzle pointed safely down and away from his companions and their mounts. He was ready for anything, or so he imagined.

[Brenner Dornkirk]

Brenner lowered his head and glanced away as Eitan elaborated upon his arcane affliction. He knew all of this, of course, but it felt somehow rude to hear him acknowledge the disgrace before a relative stranger to their inner circle. He focused upon the work at hand prepping his rifle and pretended not to listen.

"That's fine." Piers nodded, though his lips are pursed in an expression that seemed to suggest distaste. "When you're in the Warrens you'll want to use any advantage available to you- and I mean any." He said firmly. His accent bore shades of the North, but it was difficult to place. He'd spent many years now in Zaichaer, and consciously adopted what local speech patterns he'd picked up on. He slipped up regularly enough for it to be apparent that he wasn't a native Zaichaeri, but he seemed to have a pretty good ear for the local brogue.

"Nature is cruel, as you know..." Piers continued, "And that which is supernatural is crueller still. So you must be cruel withal to meet the challenges that will be presented you." He looked from Brenner to Eitan, "Commander Angevin, your... talents may not seem useful to our task in any overt way at the moment, but consider ways you might employ them nevertheless. The Warrens are a lawless place. You should both free your minds of any attachment to law and order ere you breach its depths."

Brenner glanced up from his rifle- his had been gifted by, not borrowed from, his father. Complete with engraved initials: "B.S.D."

"I don't think I've ever heard you talk this much in one sitting, Lightborn."

"Then let that impress upon you the gravity of my words." Piers replied, lifting his head and canting it to one side, "We heard a howl a few moments ago. Did either of you notice from which direction it sounded?"

Brenner blinked, uncertain and glanced to Eitan to see whether he'd fare better on Lightborn's pop quiz.

[Eitan Angevin]

Lightborn's distaste didn't faze him; he found it distasteful himself, but had bowed to Necessity all the same.

"Of course," he said. "If we stumble upon anything warded, or creatures who have some natural ability to ward themselves, I may at least sense that. I'll have my requisitioned aura glass, as well, to scan a room. But I take your point."

Eitan glanced at Brenner as the tall man waxed eloquent—at least for him—about law and lawlessness. In Zaichaer, they had taken the law into their own hands, been the law. As they sailed the skies, they brought the law to Zaichaer's most far-flung citizens. If the Warrens were too chaotic a place to accept the will of the High City, then they would learn to master it or at least to ride out its ebbs and flows.

Then Brenner glanced back at Lightborn's question. Either of them could draw a passable map despite no formal training in cartography, so often did they view the territory from on high. Down here, though, it was an undiscovered country; at least for Eitan, whose childhood exploits and subsequent training hadn't dwelt much on wilderness survival. But he paused, first his head, then his body turning back to the alignment they had had when he heard the wolves' howling. Some sense memory allowed him to examine that moment.

He pointed in a direction with more confidence than he felt. Trees and topography would distort the sound, of course, but he was at least confident that had been the general direction. Perhaps if they had registered as a clear and present danger, his mind would have proven more alert at the moment, but they were still close enough to civilization and the Searing months didn't leave predators starving; it seemed unlikely they would attack a group of men.

"But they move swiftly."

[Brenner Dornkirk]

Piers' typically implacably impassive features shifted as he adopted a slight smirk.

"Advantage Angevin." He noted with a nod of approval to the taller and younger of his two companions. "That means you're already relatively aware of your surroundings. Good start. Dornkirk?" His eyes snapped to the other young man and his smirk flattened out to a disapproving scowl. "Be mindfully alert. In the Warrens it can be a matter of life and death for both you and your companions."

Brenner huffed at the chastisement, but pursed his lips rather than responding verbally. He cast his icy gaze in the direction toward which Eitan had gestured and considered as Piers returned his attention to Eitan.

"They can move swiftly, yes." The tall, ruggedly handsome man inclined his head acknowledging Eitan's observation, "However..." He crouched down to collect and shoulder his pack of hunting supplies and gestured for them to start off in the direction Eitan had noted as the origin of the howling.

"When you hear them howl? Odds are they're broadcasting their location. Maybe they're assembling the pack, maybe they're alerting their mates to some easy prey... Whatever the case, it means they may not be ranging far afield of that area for a spell. So, we'll start in this direction..." Piers' long legs afforded him a faster gait than most, and Brenner had to scramble to get his supplies together and then jog to catch up with him.

"And the goal is for all of us to use all of the senses at our disposal to narrow their location down from..." He gestured ahead with his hand, "This general vicinity, to a more specific location. The ears are essential..."

Brenner opened his mouth to make a snide comment about Eitan's elven heritage, but upon looking at his old friend's determined expression, he thought better of it and let his lips draw back together.


"...And they can be trained." Piers continued, "Based on the volume of those howls earlier, I'd place those wolves about a mile out, but for one thing: We're heading uphill. That means they're probably farther off, but the acoustics were amplified by their position. So, I'm basing my assessment on my sense of hearing complemented by my sense of sight. And the look of those hills up yonder tells me they're probably between two and three miles off, so let's hike apace, lest Angevin's observation about their speed prove pertinent."

[Eitan Angevin]

Eitan didn't react to Lightborn's praise except to note that he had done correctly. There were certainly times where competition helped hone the skills, but he didn't feel as though he was in competition with Brenner; at least, not in this. His mind was focused on hunting down these wolves and taking them down while their small party—well, Lightborn wasn't precisely small—survived unscathed.

Were they having a drink, he would be joking about having wolf-skins to decorate their berths for the expedition, but for now, he began to double-time it in the direction from whence he had heard the howling. Their mounts were seen to, and now it was just them, their firearms, and the wolf-ridden darkness. He caught Brenner glancing at him, but the man looked away and so it must have been nothing.

"Once more into the breach," he muttered to himself as he tried to mind the shadows to recognize which might be things that would twist his ankle or similar.

Lightborn wasn't the harshest instructor he had known. In fact, while Captain Merovech was firm but fair, Vigilant Richter was a heinous cunt on the best days. But she had worked her way high enough up in the power structure of the Order and he respected her enough that he put up with her abusive leadership practices in order to be a part of her work. He was going to have to figure out how to get out from under her eye for the expedition, however, and just now he was leaning toward telling her he needed a vacation and was going on an extended hunting trip with the Dornkirks. It wasn't exactly a lie, and she wouldn't want him to bore her with trivial personal details. Spycraft at work.

Thankfully, he kept in fighting trim or else this nocturnal hustling would be trouble. All the same, he wasn't certain he could really keep up with a wolf's lope.

[Brenner Dornkirk]

Piers stalked ahead, keeping his head low and his focus seemingly trained forward as he led their small hunting party. The purpose of this whole side quest was to help prepare these men for the main quest to come, but Piers was also keenly aware that he would be with them on the expedition itself. They wouldn't have time to improve their skills to meet his level- He'd been trained as a ranger since he'd been a boy. What was important was that they picked up on the basics, so they could have a fighting chance if Piers himself should be incapacitated or if the party got split up and they found themselves without his guidance.

Brenner wasn't struggling per se to keep up with his two, taller companions, but he was exerting himself more. A fast walk for Piers was a jog for Brenner and a jog for Piers was a run for him. Still and all, the Air Commander had good stamina and kept pace with Eitan's lope.

"Unto." Brenner admonished, "The proper translation from the original Kathalan is 'Once more unto the breach.'"

Piers' head whipped to the side, so the men behind him saw him lift his index finger to his lips in profile.

"Mind your senses," The tall ranger whispered, "But know that wolves have keener senses and more practice minding them. So hush your posh prattle." Piers returned his full attention to the path ahead, shaking his head and suppressing a chuckle. It would have been amusing if they lost their quarry due to a pedantic pursuant needing to get a trivial correction out of his system. Amusing, perhaps, but worrisome given what it presaged for their chances on the expedition.

The uphill journey was a challenging route and a few times they needed to stop to climb an outcropping or overleap a crevasse, but they made good time though the sun was falling fast by now. The dim glow of gloaming was cast from the sky as Piers raised a fist to halt the progress behind him. Brenner stopped abruptly, and Piers pointed to his ears and his nose. Brenner nodded comprehending and tried to listen past the chirping of crickets and the blowing of leaves overhead in the evening breeze. He sniffed the air, trying to smell more than pine, pollen and his own sweat.

[Eitan Angevin]

If anything, Brenner's comment startled him more than offended him. He had used to make jokes about Eitan's senses and his mixed heritage, but he was the one hearing a mistaken translation muttered. But he supposed it was good they were all keen of senses in this endeavor. All the same, he gave Brenner a queer, amused look before returning to the chase.

He found himself envying Lightborn his frame, though he wondered if the man drew stares in Zaichaer. Being suspiciously large, some might have wondered if his ancestors had dallied with Mortallen, but he seemed normal enough. Then again, so did Eitan himself.

When they finally paused to take stock, it took a fair amount of willpower not to pant noisily. Apparently, he was going to have to vary his calisthenics routine because for as good a shape as he was in, this was proving embarrassingly taxing. His nostrils flared as he tried to take in every stimulus at once.

There was less to see now as the vespertine light played its tricks, and there were a fair amount of sensations to sift through. He wondered for a moment what it would be like in the Warrens, trying to feel through the rune scarred upon his soul to find any wards that might persist down in the lower depths. It would be another sense, albeit an unnatural one.

He wasn't certain what he was supposed to hear or what he was supposed to glean from that; Lightborn was the skilled tracker among them and he hadn't given them a primer to read before they left the embrace of the High City. It felt strange, this set-up. As boys, Brenner had taken the lead as he was the elder of the two. As men, they had never served together. He supposed it wouldn't be so bad if Brenner was made captain and he made a lateral move to become his XO, though that might slow his own rise to captaincy.

But he put those thoughts away and inhaled the outdoor scents, ears perked for any news of the wolves.