Snippet #2811804

It had taken some negotiating and some tugging on the blacksmith's emotions, but Sverre finally managed to get his sword properly sharpened for just over half the usual price. He didn't like to spend large sums if he could help it, never knowing for sure what his options were and what he'd need at each settlement. He spent his wait time milling about the nearby shops, mostly just browsing selections with mild, passing interest.

To his relief, the wait was not a long one, and in just over fifteen minutes the demon had his greatsword back in his hands. Thanking the blacksmith with a hearty shake of the hand and the promised payment, the man was off once more.

Hoisting his greatsword over his shoulder, Sverre made his way towards the inn, mind still interrupted with last night's terrible dream and that vexing Eilin doppelganger who he kept running into. The woman who kept refusing to talk to him, explain how in the bloody hells she knew his name, and insisted on making outrageous assumptions about him. Dammit all, now his mood was turning sour again!





Despite a choice ale, some sword practice, and a brief chat with the barmaid at the inn, Sverre's mood had only gotten marginally better. And on top of all that, he hadn't seen the hunter lady return, even though it was at least an hour or two past midday. He still wanted answers, and maybe his persistence would win out in the end.

Walking through the village, the man kept an eye out for the Eilin look-alike, not having a particular destination in mind so much as a desire to put his mind at ease.
After about an hour of unsuccessful searching, he decided he may as well head back towards the inn when something caught his attention. Roughly twenty meters outside the gates lay the edges of a dense forest, the tops of the trees dusted with drapes of snowfall. He wouldn't have paid it much thought, but one of the low hanging branches of the nearest section of trees seemed to have snagged a strand of something.
Perhaps it was nothing. Perhaps sheer circumstance. But a small tear of fabric had snagged itself onto the branch he'd noticed in question. The male avoided the overly complacent guards with embarassing ease, a slight nagging in his mind prompting further investigation of the cloth. Picking it off of the branch, he brought it closer to his face for inspection when he recognized a newly familiar scent.

The huntress.

Aside from the cold air, the evergreens, and a rabbit hiding in a burrow two feet to his left, the scent of the human he'd been hoping to find was present at this spot. Specifically, on what was undoubtedly a torn shred of her clothing. Perhaps from their fight just a few days prior? He somehow doubted she had gotten around to mending a nick in the fabric of one of her garments (something he should do for his own cloak once he returned to the inn, he noted). What on earth was the woman doing heading into the woods? Her tracks were probably long gone.

Her smell, however, had yet to vanish.

With a sigh, Sverre adjusted his hold on his greatsword before making his way into the forest, shaking his head in disbelief of the huntress. Out on her own at such a late hour of the afternoon? Sure, she was skilled from what he could tell, but it was all too easy to get lost by the late afternoon. If she wasn't on her way back, nightfall would approach sooner than she'd be able to make her way out. And with the snowfall covering her tracks, her path inside would be but a memory.

The snow began to fall with increasing frequency, any lingering traces of her disappearing rapidly as he continued his search, cursing under his breath. Stupid woman would freeze to death out here at this rate, winter clothes be damned. Her scent sometimes seemed to vanish, only for it to catch in the wind and goad him on. His biggest marker was a set of depressions in the snow under a tree, the snow beginning to cover and hide the sign of her presence. The difference in the patterns of snow here were discernible, but not for long. Sverre shook his head at the sight, berating the infuriating woman in his mind for wandering so deep into the forest. She couldn't be that much further, surely?

Sverre had half a mind to simply go back towards the village when he caught her scent again. Not too strong, but fresh. What was most concerning was a far more sinister smell. A demon.

Making his way swiftly towards the scents, the mixed breed caught sight of the huntress just as the hiss of an arrow met his ears. The woman fell forward, and for a second he thought she had been finished with a single shot. Thankfully, he realized she hadn't sustained a fatal wound, but it was evident she was going to be killed before she'd have a chance to recover or retaliate.

Greatsword at the ready, Sverre sprang out into the path of a second arrow, swiping it aside a mere two seconds before it could hit either him or its intended target.

"Pathetic, shooting to kill when your opponent is down. Can't even personally approach to kill your prey after you've caught it?" He sneered, glancing at the woman out of his periphery. He wasn't concerned with the possibility of her attacking. She was wounded and looked to be exhausted. Stupid girl had tried to hunt or fight in such a state? Maybe she had a death wish.

"Silence! I found her first you filthy mutt!" Hissed the demon scout, yellow eyes glaring at Sverre as a long, slimy tongue flicked out of its mouth. Unlike Sverre, the scout obviously couldn't maintain a human form for long, if at all. It was a large, hideous mess of tough, greyish skin, protruding horns, bulging wings, spiny tail, rows of jagged teeth in an overly wide maw, and dirty claws. All on a deceptively knobbly body.

Mutt again. Sverre rolled his eyes and glared in annoyance at the creature, thinking it almost not worth his time.

"Fight me for her then, if you got the balls!" He challenged, earning an insulted shriek in response. The scout lifted his bow, this time firing three arrows in a single shot.

It was pathetic, really. There was a clear difference in skill, coupled with arrogance and anger based movements from the scout. Sverre cut the arrows from the air, running towards his foe.

Another shriek met his advances, the creature's tail whipping around to club the dark haired man in the gut. Sverre held his arms out, letting out a grunt as the bulbous end of the spiny tail slammed into his forearm instead. That was gonna be an ugly bruise. Still, he pushed closer, climbing up to wrestle the damned thing out of the tree.

While the scout was fast, Sverre managed to grab an ankle, the skin as tough as a gators hide. He dragged the scout down as both tumbled from its perch, though his attack was met with several slashes and a headbutt. Thank heavens the horns didn't snag or hit him!

As the scout attempted to stab Sverre with a small dagger, the man rolled out of the way with seconds to spare before reaching for a blade of his own. He was only half aware of the unfamiliar spear as he lifted it by the middle and thrust up into the abdomen of the scout until the point exited the other side.

"See ya in hell you stupid shit" Sverre said, withdrawing the now blood covered spear as he looked over at the huntress. She was bleeding from the arrow pierced into her shoulder. It wasn't a large volume trickling out, but he wouldn't know how bad it would be until the arrow was extracted. Depends on what it hit. His greatsword had been dropped under the tree, having needed both hands to grapple with the scount to drag his sorry ass down.

Picking up his sword and the spear, Sverre quickly knelt beside the Eilin doppelganger, shaking his head at her even as he judged how to pick her up.

"Surely you can't always be this stupid, otherwise you'd have been dead years ago." He scoffed, carefully moving the woman so he could tie the arrow in place lest it move and pierce her more. For this, he simply cut the strap of the scout's quiver to use as a temporary binding after padding the area with a piece of his cloak (swiftly cut with his own knife, his previous musings of needing to repair it now rendered moot). "What in the hell possessed you to go out when you're obviously sleep deprived, and who knows what else...and don't move!" He continued, trying to not be too rough (though securing the arrow would hurt regardless).

Arrow secured, he carefully moved to lift the woman so her uninjured shoulder was pressed against him. Before standing, he regarded their weapons with a sigh. Careful not to drop the injured huntress, he reached with his arm supporting her upper body to lift and then half drag, half carry the two weapons by the handle ends. And after he'd just sharpened his blade!

"Hold still. Unless you want me to drop you on the way back..." he grunted in mild annoyance, not keen on hearing her argue and give him a hard time. Making sure he had a sturdy hold on the woman and sufficient grip on the weapons, he began to trudge back out of the forest and towards the village inn.