So the first part of this I wrote for a different piece of RP that I failed to follow through with. I spent too much time on it to just let it die without resolution, so I've adapted it to this event. (If you've read it before, that's why, cheers).
The air was cold, calm….quiet; the snow crunched softly under foot. The bones of once brilliant seasonal pines stood silent and still, waiting in solitude for the moment of their renewal. This time of year was always a test for the inhabitants in the great forests of Alterac, for only the strong would survive the winter and live on to replenish what was lost. Such was the cycle in these parts of Azeroth, as they had been for ages. The exception being the occasional intruder that found its way in and often failed to leave.
The Orc kneeled softly next to a large bolder that had come loose from surrounding mountain long ago, his hand sinking slightly in the snow. He steadied himself against the stone, the ancient rock crumbling beneath his glove. Examining the marks on the ground he tested the depth of each, bringing his fingers to his face to catch scent of his prey. The tracks were deep; the scent fresh… the buck was close.
Slowly, methodically he removed his bow from the hand-crafted sheath that protected it from the elements, stringing it tightly with a strand made from the fibers of dragon skin. He tested the draw, carefully pulling back further and further until his arm shook from the tension, perfect. The Orc pulled a single arrow from his quiver, specifically selected for his target. Made of rigid composites, finely crafted to minimize the wobble of flight yet light enough to find its target before it could hear the snap of the bow, it easily was the difference between a kill or not.
He examined the shaft, raising it to his eye scrutinizing it closely. Straight, unwarped, his thumb checking for imperfections in the woven composites came to the phoenix feathered fletching, unbroken… beautiful.
Quite an irony that such an elegant tool was destined for this grim purpose in such a peaceful place. The Orc notched the arrow and held the weapon at his side, standing slowly so as not to spook his prey. He squinted, straining his eyes to pierce the thick, bare brush ahead for any signs of life and waited. Just past the brush stood a clearing where the white and yellow rays of the midday sun pierced the clouded sky, illuminating the expanse as if painted by the gods themselves. He waited
To the west of the clearing the Orc noticed an unnatural sway in the top of one of the trees. The air was still, the surrounding pines echoed this fact, unnatural indeed. His chest thumped in anticipation, he could hear the blood surge within his ears. He waited.
Slowly, cautiously the animal revealed itself, testing the ground…sniffing the air. Its eyes darted back and forth, its head, twelve pointed antlers and all, twitching slightly, checking every direction for predators. It moved forward, still on edge waiting for the first sign of something out of place, the first scent that shouldn’t belong. Clearly satisfied with its examination, the buck relaxed, directing its gaze to the little green that remained in the clearing.
The Orc admired the scene before him, never in all his life, and perhaps never again, had such a setting revealed itself to him. There wasn’t an artist alive that could do it justice. Peaceful, wonderful bliss, in the realm of death; perhaps there really was a path to the afterlife, a light at the end of all things. He raised his blow slowly, bringing it to bare. The Buck pecked at the sparse vegetation as the orc drew the string, his arm straining at the tension. Everything was cyclical. He took a breath, exhaling slowly. Life…He focused his gaze and loosed the arrow…feeds on life.
Edited by Dukago on 4/7/2012 6:08 PM PDT