When Worlds Collide (Alagoniel) [October, 3010]
Oct 7, 2018 19:07:11 GMT -5
Post by Beriedir on Oct 7, 2018 19:07:11 GMT -5
The cool whispers of Fall could be felt in the air, the wind carried a cool breeze across the land, the leaves of trees beginning to fall, dotting the ground in a cascade of reds and browns. It was truly a peaceful scene to observe, and had it not been for the ever increasing presence of the horrors of Mordor one could even possibly find peace among nature. As much as Beriedir enjoyed the scenery, he didn't care for Fall nearly as much, the cool air brought about an every ominous feeling to the back of the ranger's mind, and the changing of the scenery made it ever so much more difficult to conceal ones self. Not to mention the chill meant that Winter was coming, and Winter meant things got cold, and Beriedir was not a fan of being cold.
Having set out from Henneth Annûn three days earlier, Beriedir was on his own for this excursion, which wasn't uncommon for an experienced ranger, still he longed for the company another; one can only talk to themselves for so long before they start to go a little crazy. For a sociable person such as Beriedir this made his mission all that more challenging. He carved his way South following an overland trail the rangers used on occasion, it allowed them to bypass the river Anduin, which was known to be filled with orc patrols no matter how many of them the rangers killed.
Beriedir slowed his pace, the foul scent of the orcs ever present as the breeze carried, the leaves rustling in its wake, they were near. Beriedir had adorned himself in mud and fallen leaves to mask himself, he would use his elements to hide himself in plain sight, and he would use this to gather intelligence on the enemy. Moving even further South at nearly a crawling pace, the scent of orcs was joined with the terrifying sound of them, grunts and other vocal sounds mixed with that of marching feet and the clanking of metal, these were orc patrols on the move, and several of them it seemed like. The sounds seemed to eminate from all directions in front of Beriedir, and the fact that he could hear them before he could see them made it all the more unsettling. His years of experience be damned, the memory of that ambush years prior still sat in his mind, like an infection it slowly wiggled its way deeper into Beriedir's mind, and despite his skill with a blade he was only one man, and they...they were many. This far South even a team of rangers would have difficulty with the amount of orcs they were likely to encounter.
Within a matter of moments Beriedir could make out an orc patrol, four disgusting figures carving their way through the wood, they were unremarkable in every way an orc could be. Beriedir dropped down onto his left knee near the base of a tree, his left hand hand planted against the trunk for support, he quickly grasped the hilt of his blade with his right. He crouched and waited, his body blending in with the fallen leaves and the trees themselves, at a distance he would blend in, but the closer one got the more he would devolve into a lumpy extension at the base of a tree. Fortunately for him the patrol pressed onward, moving East, away from the river, he could speculate that they would be returning to an encampment near here, a hub for patrols in the area. Their conversation mostly muffled by the distance, trees, and of course the faint howl of a chilled breeze, Beriedir was able to pick up a few words here and there, though nothing of any importance. Be it their hubris or stupidity, orcs were not known to keep things a secret, and were far more open about things when they believed they were safe, though he doubted that these ones knew anything of interest, being able to stalk orcs rather than kill them became a new skill for rangers as of late; usually followed by killing the orcs they stalked.
Releasing the grip on his blade, Beriedir let his right hand fall to the ground, he grasped at some of the fallen leaves without really thinking about it, they were cool to the touch though dry, they crackled as he moved them around in his hand for no other reason than it was something for him to do. Some said that the most experienced rangers learn from the touch and taste of their environment, but Beriedir drew the line at eating random plants for the hope that it might tell him that something had passed through here. Still the subconscious act helped to put the ranger at ease, the memory of the ambush still at the back of his mind, Beriedir had grown more cautious in his actions since that fateful night.
Glancing upwards, through the branches of the trees, Beriedir could make out the glow of the sun, still hanging high in the sky, he still had several more hours of daylight before having to find a sturdy tree to hold up in. There he would dine on only the finest of salted meats and cheap wine before sneaking in a few hours rest before sunrise. Not the most comfortable of accommodations, it was perhaps the most secure and safe. With the patrol from earlier now out of earshot, Beriedir slowly slinked forward, crossing over the small footpath that the orcs had been using. Trampled grass compressed into a makeshift walkway it weave in and out of the treeline, it was quite clear that this was a path used often. Still Beriedir wished he had the time to line it with traps to ambush the next patrol, but sadly his scouting mission further South took priority, and the need to cover ground quickly became a priority. The thought of traps killing unaware orcs still filled the man with a smile as he quickly pushed forward into the treeline once more.
For several more hours Beriedir traveled South, without pause, without any events of interest, simply himself and his thoughts. Finally as the sun began to arc across the sky, turning into the afternoon, Beriedir took pause for before him stood a tree with a smear of black blood against it's pale brown trunk. Puzzled, the ranger moved cautiously towards it, his head on a swivel, he careful surveyed his environment. The area had grown silent save the faint howl of the wind, but there was not a sound from any animal or creature that the ranger could hear, things were silent, almost ominously silent. The light began to dim as the sun was masked behind a pack of clouds traveling across the sky, and Beriedir slowly made his way to the tree. He inspected the blood, it wasn't fresh, but it hadn't completely dried either, its black contents still wet to the touch of the gloved hands of the ranger. It's color and stench confirmed its origin from that of an orc, though there was no body to be seen, only droplets of black blood dotting the dirt and flowers, leading further inward. Wounded by appearance, Beriedir followed the trail, move cautiously, it was to clever to be an orc ambush, but that didn't mean that there wasn't something out there that perhaps wanted to gnaw on Beriedir's face like crunchy snack.
Beriedir followed the trail for what seemed like an eternity but in reality was but only a few minutes. The blood droplets raced in between the trees themselves as if the orc itself was running in fear from something. Running to something? Or just running away? There was one way to find out whether or not Beriedir was going to find just a corpse or a horde of pissed off orcs.
Fortunately the trees separated into a small clearing and it was there, nestled atop a mound of fallen leaves was bloodied corpse of a fallen orc. The leaves themselves drenched in blood, the orc's face pressed into them as it lied on its stomach, four bloody holes decorated it's back, small in diameter and definitely from a bow, they were not what did the orc in. Curious, Beriedir pressed through the stench to look over the body, and his curiosity was somewhat rewarded. The toes of the the orc's left foot were beneath a section of tree root; the creature had tripped in its panic, fallen to the ground.
Crouching down next to the body, the ranger used the back of his right hand to cover his face, despite being somewhat of a fresh kill it still stunk like only an orc could. Using his left hand he ran his gloved fingers above the body of the orc, stopping at a pool of blood that had become intertwined with the wisps of hair the orc had. Separating the strands of hair revealed a very large incision to the back of the skull, a thrust of force, the killing blow, whoever killed the orc was hot on its trails. A wound of a guaranteed kill. An interesting turn of events, but the real curiosity was the lack of arrows and arrowheads in the corpse. That on it's own merit ruled out the possibility of another orc, and it was no creature either. Beriedir pondered the thought for a moment, another ranger perhaps? A possibility, perhaps one who got excited over a lone orc, though everything seemed a bit sloppy. If given the time any ranger would've moved in for the kill, up close and quiet, or just moved past the orc entirely. No, likely the orc spotted whoever killed it and fled, forcing that person to hunt it. Too far a distance to kill it with a blade, forcing the use of a bow. The trees making it difficult to get a clear shot, that would explain the arrangement of the wounds. However the corpse of the orc would reveal no more information, and any other trace of the killer was gone.
Letting out a sigh, Beriedir stood upright once more, he still made an effort to cover his face with his right hand, and wiped his left hand against the trunk of a tree. Beriedir gathered up several handfuls of leaves in a quick attempt to conceal the body should any other orcs venture this way. Hopefully it would be several hours before anyone else discovered the body, and by that time he would be long gone. Slowly moving away from the body, though still looking over his surroundings, he spotted a small footpath off to his right. The grass beaten down by constant movement, and likely the path that this orc was going to take, though he doubted the killer would continue down that path...too obvious. If it was in fact another ranger he suspected they would've continued to weave about through the trees, giving them cover and concealment. As such that was the path that Beriedir determined he would take.
Moving through the trees like a shadow, it only took a few more minutes before the stench of another dead orc overwhelmed the nose of Beriedir. He could spot its corpse laying against the body of a tree, slumped on its side, its crude sword still sheathed. Slowly moving towards it it was clear that it was deceased, a pool of blood had formed around the body and began to seep into the ground below. Moving closer to investigate, Beriedir cautiously scanned his surroundings for any sign of a trap, though if someone was stalking him he was sure they would've been in the treeline itself. Reaching the foul corpse, Berider quickly determined the cause of death, the orc had a very large slash across its throat, deep, precise, and over in an instant. But to what end he wondered, why go through the trouble. Was the killer leaving the bodies as a message? To scare off future orcs? Perhaps, though most rangers tended to string up the bodies from the trees. Was it inexperience? Unlikely, it was a very clean kill, likely the killer quietly crept up to their target and killed it before it even knew what was happening. Haste perhaps? Though the lack of any other orc presence in the area, at least from the direction Beriedir came from made it seem unlikely. Truly Ithilien had become a strange place since its fall.
Continuing his path parallel to the trail, it would be long before Beriedir stumbled upon another dead orc, followed by another dead orc maybe twenty paces away inside the treeline. Quickly the picture was becoming clear, these were sentries. In total Beriedir found four more dead orcs, scattered about the woods, intertwined within the trees, each killed quickly and quietly. They were the ring of defense for a camp yet unseen, and it was making sense. Likely that first orc was looking for supplies, and Beriedir wagered if he went back to where the blood trail first started there would be some discarded scraps of wood near there. The next orc was likely guarding the trail to the camp, and those within the treeline were guarding the perimeter. Not an effective defense, but the orcs were like lulled into a false sense of security being this far South and didn't see the need to arrange a proper defense. The soldiers of Gondor were tucked away in their fortifications, and the rangers had been more occupied in the North as of late. It was rather interesting to see how all the pieces were coming together, but where there was a camp there was a Captain, and that meant information.
Pressing on, Beriedir followed the signs of snapped twigs and disturbed brush, the path the killer had taken from the last kill. The makeshift trail led inwards from the ring of dead orcs, and it didn't take long for the sounds of orcs to wander to Beriedir's ears. In the distance he could hear the sounds of orcs conversing, faint, but present. He could smell charred flesh from whatever poor creature they were cooking; part of Beriedir hoped that it wasn't whoever dispatched all those orcs, he was drawing near. Moving cautiously among the trees, the ranger snaked ever closer to the sounds, and likely against his better judgement, for he was but one man, a ranger, but he was still but a man. Part of his brain told him he should turn and run, as there was no way he could take on a camp of orcs, no matter how many of them had been slain by a stranger, and he could not infiltrate the camp without getting spotted; orcs had developed a sense of smell that could often detect a tark once they got into close proximity, it made sneaking past them more difficult at times.
Still a part of him wanted to know, the curiosity and sense of adventure getting the best of him, he could imagine his brother chewing him out for being reckless, though his brother was likely off waging a battle of his own with greater concerns at hand. Still the intrigue drew him in deeper and deeper, his own mind justifying it to get the position of a camp, he could relay it's position and a group of rangers could come down and destroy it, putting all the orcs to the blade, and capturing whatever they could, be it intelligence or perhaps supplies raided from Gondor.
The sky began to grow darker, the sun nearing its final position in the sky before retreating behind the mountains, it would be but a mere hour or more before darkness crept into the land once more. The wind certainly picking up, the leaves began to rustle, the branches of trees swaying and lurching in its wake, the faint whispers of the wind carefully darting past Beriedir's ears as he moved on. His determination driving him to place one foot in front of the other he carefully made his way through the trees, like a predator carefully stalking his prey he spotted in the distance an orc, this one still standing, unfortunately not dead by the way the creature kicked at the dirt, swatting at some insects. The ranger paused behind the trunk of a tree, carefully peering out from behind it he fixed his eyes on the orc, it must die. However he quickly spotted another figure, perhaps sixty paces or more away, off to his left. it stood behind a tree, bow in hand and drawn, it was clear this one wanted that orc as dead as Beriedir did. Tucked beneath the shadows of a tree, he couldn't quite make the figure out, not in this light. The figure was clad in dark clothes that helped draw it into the shadows, but it lacked the earthly tones that the rangers wore, and it was clear it was no orc, for it stood tall and straight.
It was a decent distance away, through the trees, his curiosity was getting the better of him, and he would have his answers. Certainly this mystery figure would dispatch the orc, there was no question of that. The real question was just how much ground could Beriedir cover before that happened. He grasped the hilt of his sword with his right hand, he slowly drew it from its sheath, trying his hardest to be as quiet as possible. He peered back out around the tree, and saw that the orc was still moving, not yet dead like the others, Beriedir quickly moved out from behind the tree, pressing his back against the next tree in line as quickly as he could. He bounded, tree by tree, towards the figure, each step carefully placed as to not betray his location. He dare not get too close, but he needed to get close enough. He was perhaps little more than twenty paces away from the figure now, where he could carefully observe the attire, dark like the shadows but well worn, the figure tall but slender, strands of dark hair protruding, who could this possibly be?
Stepping out from behind his cover, Beriedir stepped forward once more being careful in his footwork, his blade still grasped, but pointed downwards in as nonthreatening of a manner as a man with a sword in hand could do, though he was still prepared to fight if need be. His muscles tensed as he moved closer, his step getting smaller and smaller with each inch of ground covered, his shoulders hunching forward in anticipation, he paused, clean in his tracks, the anticipation becoming greater even now; the ranger would have his answers now.
Having set out from Henneth Annûn three days earlier, Beriedir was on his own for this excursion, which wasn't uncommon for an experienced ranger, still he longed for the company another; one can only talk to themselves for so long before they start to go a little crazy. For a sociable person such as Beriedir this made his mission all that more challenging. He carved his way South following an overland trail the rangers used on occasion, it allowed them to bypass the river Anduin, which was known to be filled with orc patrols no matter how many of them the rangers killed.
Beriedir slowed his pace, the foul scent of the orcs ever present as the breeze carried, the leaves rustling in its wake, they were near. Beriedir had adorned himself in mud and fallen leaves to mask himself, he would use his elements to hide himself in plain sight, and he would use this to gather intelligence on the enemy. Moving even further South at nearly a crawling pace, the scent of orcs was joined with the terrifying sound of them, grunts and other vocal sounds mixed with that of marching feet and the clanking of metal, these were orc patrols on the move, and several of them it seemed like. The sounds seemed to eminate from all directions in front of Beriedir, and the fact that he could hear them before he could see them made it all the more unsettling. His years of experience be damned, the memory of that ambush years prior still sat in his mind, like an infection it slowly wiggled its way deeper into Beriedir's mind, and despite his skill with a blade he was only one man, and they...they were many. This far South even a team of rangers would have difficulty with the amount of orcs they were likely to encounter.
Within a matter of moments Beriedir could make out an orc patrol, four disgusting figures carving their way through the wood, they were unremarkable in every way an orc could be. Beriedir dropped down onto his left knee near the base of a tree, his left hand hand planted against the trunk for support, he quickly grasped the hilt of his blade with his right. He crouched and waited, his body blending in with the fallen leaves and the trees themselves, at a distance he would blend in, but the closer one got the more he would devolve into a lumpy extension at the base of a tree. Fortunately for him the patrol pressed onward, moving East, away from the river, he could speculate that they would be returning to an encampment near here, a hub for patrols in the area. Their conversation mostly muffled by the distance, trees, and of course the faint howl of a chilled breeze, Beriedir was able to pick up a few words here and there, though nothing of any importance. Be it their hubris or stupidity, orcs were not known to keep things a secret, and were far more open about things when they believed they were safe, though he doubted that these ones knew anything of interest, being able to stalk orcs rather than kill them became a new skill for rangers as of late; usually followed by killing the orcs they stalked.
Releasing the grip on his blade, Beriedir let his right hand fall to the ground, he grasped at some of the fallen leaves without really thinking about it, they were cool to the touch though dry, they crackled as he moved them around in his hand for no other reason than it was something for him to do. Some said that the most experienced rangers learn from the touch and taste of their environment, but Beriedir drew the line at eating random plants for the hope that it might tell him that something had passed through here. Still the subconscious act helped to put the ranger at ease, the memory of the ambush still at the back of his mind, Beriedir had grown more cautious in his actions since that fateful night.
Glancing upwards, through the branches of the trees, Beriedir could make out the glow of the sun, still hanging high in the sky, he still had several more hours of daylight before having to find a sturdy tree to hold up in. There he would dine on only the finest of salted meats and cheap wine before sneaking in a few hours rest before sunrise. Not the most comfortable of accommodations, it was perhaps the most secure and safe. With the patrol from earlier now out of earshot, Beriedir slowly slinked forward, crossing over the small footpath that the orcs had been using. Trampled grass compressed into a makeshift walkway it weave in and out of the treeline, it was quite clear that this was a path used often. Still Beriedir wished he had the time to line it with traps to ambush the next patrol, but sadly his scouting mission further South took priority, and the need to cover ground quickly became a priority. The thought of traps killing unaware orcs still filled the man with a smile as he quickly pushed forward into the treeline once more.
For several more hours Beriedir traveled South, without pause, without any events of interest, simply himself and his thoughts. Finally as the sun began to arc across the sky, turning into the afternoon, Beriedir took pause for before him stood a tree with a smear of black blood against it's pale brown trunk. Puzzled, the ranger moved cautiously towards it, his head on a swivel, he careful surveyed his environment. The area had grown silent save the faint howl of the wind, but there was not a sound from any animal or creature that the ranger could hear, things were silent, almost ominously silent. The light began to dim as the sun was masked behind a pack of clouds traveling across the sky, and Beriedir slowly made his way to the tree. He inspected the blood, it wasn't fresh, but it hadn't completely dried either, its black contents still wet to the touch of the gloved hands of the ranger. It's color and stench confirmed its origin from that of an orc, though there was no body to be seen, only droplets of black blood dotting the dirt and flowers, leading further inward. Wounded by appearance, Beriedir followed the trail, move cautiously, it was to clever to be an orc ambush, but that didn't mean that there wasn't something out there that perhaps wanted to gnaw on Beriedir's face like crunchy snack.
Beriedir followed the trail for what seemed like an eternity but in reality was but only a few minutes. The blood droplets raced in between the trees themselves as if the orc itself was running in fear from something. Running to something? Or just running away? There was one way to find out whether or not Beriedir was going to find just a corpse or a horde of pissed off orcs.
Fortunately the trees separated into a small clearing and it was there, nestled atop a mound of fallen leaves was bloodied corpse of a fallen orc. The leaves themselves drenched in blood, the orc's face pressed into them as it lied on its stomach, four bloody holes decorated it's back, small in diameter and definitely from a bow, they were not what did the orc in. Curious, Beriedir pressed through the stench to look over the body, and his curiosity was somewhat rewarded. The toes of the the orc's left foot were beneath a section of tree root; the creature had tripped in its panic, fallen to the ground.
Crouching down next to the body, the ranger used the back of his right hand to cover his face, despite being somewhat of a fresh kill it still stunk like only an orc could. Using his left hand he ran his gloved fingers above the body of the orc, stopping at a pool of blood that had become intertwined with the wisps of hair the orc had. Separating the strands of hair revealed a very large incision to the back of the skull, a thrust of force, the killing blow, whoever killed the orc was hot on its trails. A wound of a guaranteed kill. An interesting turn of events, but the real curiosity was the lack of arrows and arrowheads in the corpse. That on it's own merit ruled out the possibility of another orc, and it was no creature either. Beriedir pondered the thought for a moment, another ranger perhaps? A possibility, perhaps one who got excited over a lone orc, though everything seemed a bit sloppy. If given the time any ranger would've moved in for the kill, up close and quiet, or just moved past the orc entirely. No, likely the orc spotted whoever killed it and fled, forcing that person to hunt it. Too far a distance to kill it with a blade, forcing the use of a bow. The trees making it difficult to get a clear shot, that would explain the arrangement of the wounds. However the corpse of the orc would reveal no more information, and any other trace of the killer was gone.
Letting out a sigh, Beriedir stood upright once more, he still made an effort to cover his face with his right hand, and wiped his left hand against the trunk of a tree. Beriedir gathered up several handfuls of leaves in a quick attempt to conceal the body should any other orcs venture this way. Hopefully it would be several hours before anyone else discovered the body, and by that time he would be long gone. Slowly moving away from the body, though still looking over his surroundings, he spotted a small footpath off to his right. The grass beaten down by constant movement, and likely the path that this orc was going to take, though he doubted the killer would continue down that path...too obvious. If it was in fact another ranger he suspected they would've continued to weave about through the trees, giving them cover and concealment. As such that was the path that Beriedir determined he would take.
Moving through the trees like a shadow, it only took a few more minutes before the stench of another dead orc overwhelmed the nose of Beriedir. He could spot its corpse laying against the body of a tree, slumped on its side, its crude sword still sheathed. Slowly moving towards it it was clear that it was deceased, a pool of blood had formed around the body and began to seep into the ground below. Moving closer to investigate, Beriedir cautiously scanned his surroundings for any sign of a trap, though if someone was stalking him he was sure they would've been in the treeline itself. Reaching the foul corpse, Berider quickly determined the cause of death, the orc had a very large slash across its throat, deep, precise, and over in an instant. But to what end he wondered, why go through the trouble. Was the killer leaving the bodies as a message? To scare off future orcs? Perhaps, though most rangers tended to string up the bodies from the trees. Was it inexperience? Unlikely, it was a very clean kill, likely the killer quietly crept up to their target and killed it before it even knew what was happening. Haste perhaps? Though the lack of any other orc presence in the area, at least from the direction Beriedir came from made it seem unlikely. Truly Ithilien had become a strange place since its fall.
Continuing his path parallel to the trail, it would be long before Beriedir stumbled upon another dead orc, followed by another dead orc maybe twenty paces away inside the treeline. Quickly the picture was becoming clear, these were sentries. In total Beriedir found four more dead orcs, scattered about the woods, intertwined within the trees, each killed quickly and quietly. They were the ring of defense for a camp yet unseen, and it was making sense. Likely that first orc was looking for supplies, and Beriedir wagered if he went back to where the blood trail first started there would be some discarded scraps of wood near there. The next orc was likely guarding the trail to the camp, and those within the treeline were guarding the perimeter. Not an effective defense, but the orcs were like lulled into a false sense of security being this far South and didn't see the need to arrange a proper defense. The soldiers of Gondor were tucked away in their fortifications, and the rangers had been more occupied in the North as of late. It was rather interesting to see how all the pieces were coming together, but where there was a camp there was a Captain, and that meant information.
Pressing on, Beriedir followed the signs of snapped twigs and disturbed brush, the path the killer had taken from the last kill. The makeshift trail led inwards from the ring of dead orcs, and it didn't take long for the sounds of orcs to wander to Beriedir's ears. In the distance he could hear the sounds of orcs conversing, faint, but present. He could smell charred flesh from whatever poor creature they were cooking; part of Beriedir hoped that it wasn't whoever dispatched all those orcs, he was drawing near. Moving cautiously among the trees, the ranger snaked ever closer to the sounds, and likely against his better judgement, for he was but one man, a ranger, but he was still but a man. Part of his brain told him he should turn and run, as there was no way he could take on a camp of orcs, no matter how many of them had been slain by a stranger, and he could not infiltrate the camp without getting spotted; orcs had developed a sense of smell that could often detect a tark once they got into close proximity, it made sneaking past them more difficult at times.
Still a part of him wanted to know, the curiosity and sense of adventure getting the best of him, he could imagine his brother chewing him out for being reckless, though his brother was likely off waging a battle of his own with greater concerns at hand. Still the intrigue drew him in deeper and deeper, his own mind justifying it to get the position of a camp, he could relay it's position and a group of rangers could come down and destroy it, putting all the orcs to the blade, and capturing whatever they could, be it intelligence or perhaps supplies raided from Gondor.
The sky began to grow darker, the sun nearing its final position in the sky before retreating behind the mountains, it would be but a mere hour or more before darkness crept into the land once more. The wind certainly picking up, the leaves began to rustle, the branches of trees swaying and lurching in its wake, the faint whispers of the wind carefully darting past Beriedir's ears as he moved on. His determination driving him to place one foot in front of the other he carefully made his way through the trees, like a predator carefully stalking his prey he spotted in the distance an orc, this one still standing, unfortunately not dead by the way the creature kicked at the dirt, swatting at some insects. The ranger paused behind the trunk of a tree, carefully peering out from behind it he fixed his eyes on the orc, it must die. However he quickly spotted another figure, perhaps sixty paces or more away, off to his left. it stood behind a tree, bow in hand and drawn, it was clear this one wanted that orc as dead as Beriedir did. Tucked beneath the shadows of a tree, he couldn't quite make the figure out, not in this light. The figure was clad in dark clothes that helped draw it into the shadows, but it lacked the earthly tones that the rangers wore, and it was clear it was no orc, for it stood tall and straight.
It was a decent distance away, through the trees, his curiosity was getting the better of him, and he would have his answers. Certainly this mystery figure would dispatch the orc, there was no question of that. The real question was just how much ground could Beriedir cover before that happened. He grasped the hilt of his sword with his right hand, he slowly drew it from its sheath, trying his hardest to be as quiet as possible. He peered back out around the tree, and saw that the orc was still moving, not yet dead like the others, Beriedir quickly moved out from behind the tree, pressing his back against the next tree in line as quickly as he could. He bounded, tree by tree, towards the figure, each step carefully placed as to not betray his location. He dare not get too close, but he needed to get close enough. He was perhaps little more than twenty paces away from the figure now, where he could carefully observe the attire, dark like the shadows but well worn, the figure tall but slender, strands of dark hair protruding, who could this possibly be?
Stepping out from behind his cover, Beriedir stepped forward once more being careful in his footwork, his blade still grasped, but pointed downwards in as nonthreatening of a manner as a man with a sword in hand could do, though he was still prepared to fight if need be. His muscles tensed as he moved closer, his step getting smaller and smaller with each inch of ground covered, his shoulders hunching forward in anticipation, he paused, clean in his tracks, the anticipation becoming greater even now; the ranger would have his answers now.
