IC - The Hunt

Having grown up in a city, Danill is a little uncertain about his hunting abilities. But he looks eagerly to the "other" Guardians to lead the search for Dommic.

Ognimir checks on Maple, to see how she's doing after the mirror wolf attack and saddles up if she looks good to go.

Damir moves alongside Ognimir and gets ready to leave with his companions.

Quintus Quail saddles his shaggy mountain horse, secures his modest collection of equipment, then climbs into the saddle. As he eases his mount into formation with the others-- he is no great horseman, having lived most of his life in the city-- he risks a jaunty hand-wave back to Podreg.

"We thank you for your honesty and your aid, sir," he calls. "We shall be true to our word, so far as your brother permits us."

Having said his farewell, and in company with his fellow Guardians, Quintus sets out upon the trail indicated by Podreg. His horse goes at a lazy trot, slow enough for Danill Krahl to keep up. If he hustles.

And hustle he does.

"When do--" huff, puff "--when do I get a mount? Are all Guardians supplied with them?"

He dodges a bush as he strides along, asking his questions.

"Are you taken so much with us three?" Damir let's his mount circle around to meet the huffing man with a grin and a good natured twinkle in his eye. Then he extends a hand to offer Danill a place behind him. "That a Guardian you wish to be?" Damir helps the other up and accelerates his horse's trot. Time to find the murderer!

Before getting off his horse, Damir looks around once more and decides that this might make a nice resting splace for a little while. He worries about getting seen and scans the surroundings for any of the landmarks and signs Podreg has talked about.

Quintus Quail all but tumbles from the saddle in his haste to dismount. He snatches his crossbow and quiver from the saddle horn, then scuttles through the underbrush in the direction of the nearest sturdy tree trunk. The bearded man puts as much heartwood as he can between himself and that fatal precipice.

They might be able to talk Dommic down-- for surely the bowman must be Dommic? But not while he's peppering them with arrows.

The lodged in Damir's shoulder gives Danill quite the shock.

"Damir, you've been shot." What else does one say?

Seeing Quintus head for cover, Danill thinks that's a great idea.

"Come one man, in to the trees!"

Ognimir readies his shield and backtracks the path of the arrow to gaze at the precipice. Then he lifts his shield for protection from that angle.
City ambushes were one thing, but forest ambushes...he's not even sure where to start.

Ognimir studies the landscape, looking for a way to flank or approach that precipice. Hoping he can ride Maple, but knowing he'll likely need to dismount. As soon as he sees a reasonable way to advance, he will.

Peeking from behind the boulder, Danill likewise looks for a way up that will keep him out of arrow shot. But for the now he's OK the shooter knowing his position. Maybe he can even be a distraction for the others...

"Dommic! Is that you mate?! It's me, Danill!"

Quintus risks a glance round the side of his chosen tree at the precipice beyond. He's looking for any figure or sign of movement up there. Quail wouldn't know Dommic by sight, but perhaps they'll get lucky and their attacker will answer Danill's call.

I should have expected that... oh well, distraction it is...

"Now I know it is you Dommic! You can only hit people in the back!" he shouts.

"You an' your brother both ain't half what you think you are; probably why Ciara chose the other lad!"

Danill hopes the others are capitalizing on this "distraction", or that it's even working.

He peeks up ever so slighly.

Damir looks around and assesses the situation. He cannot help his people with the blasted arrow protruding out of his flesh, sending waves of searing pain through his body. The boy got him and he got him good. Shall the lovesick hunter be the end of him?
Gods knew.

The Guardian seeks shelter among his fellow fighters and slides behind another boulder close to Ognimir and his raised shield. He nods to his old friend and swallows hard. Damir feels for the head of the arrow. It has not come out on the other side of his shoulder. Unfortunately this means he cannot push the projectile out unassisted. Pulling in the direction of the shaft might cause even more damage depending on the type of arrow. So the warrior decides to leave the head in for now. With a smooth movement he breaks the shaft of the arrow close to the wound. Then he tears some fabric from his shirt and starts wrapping his shoulder as best he can.

With Danill distracting-- not to say enraging-- the archer above them, Quintus Quail takes the opportunity to scuttle from tree trunk to tree trunk. He's trying to work his way around the side of the promontory, to a position where he can see, and therefore target, their foe.

Ognimir holds the shield protectively and watches as Damir works on the arrow.
He reflects on the mystical dreams of last night and wonders if Diminish Golem as a spell would help at all with this arrow...but feels it is unlikely.

Quintus raises his crossbow with bitten lip and queasy bowels. It doesn't seem sporting to shoot a man in the back, but then neither was it honorable of their quarry to fire upon them, unannounced, from a position of stealth and vantage.

Desperate times, on all hands.

Quintus trains the crossbow's bolt upon the stranger. He narrows his eyes, exhales softly, and pulls the trigger.

Damir focuses on a small spot on the ground for a moment. He concentrates on his breathing and wills away the darkness lurking somewhere behind him - around him, trying to overcome him. He feels the wound with his fingertips and welcomes the sharp pain - it brings him back, helps him clear his head.

He hastily ties a piece of cloth around the injury and looks up ahead. Damir witnesses Ognimir getting shot at, Danill is crouching and waiting close by. From his point, Damir cannot see Quintus, but guesses he has made his way up the hill while the shooter has been giving all his attention to the three other men approaching.

Damir gets his own shield in position, then follows the young man up the precipice. He does not draw his sword just yet as he reckons he has to get closer. The Guardian carefully makes his way trusting in his party to work together. "Oy!", he shouts. Distracting the shooter might help Quintus reaching the right spot. But just as he raises his voice, Damir hears the sound of Quintus' crossbow.