Tyre’Negoth: The Hunter

To say that none uttered sound amid Acumenius’ talk

Would paint me a liar to sugar-coat so,

For the next warrior whisp’red throughout the speech,

Suttle and soft he spoke to his companion,

“If heroic blood shall be shed I bet, he before all else,

Even that dainty specimen who preached before,

Has a better chance of defeating foes than this bookworm!

Wizards do well to recite facts and speak of logic,

Yet cut their tongue away and see what they boast!

A swish of my sword should most likely end his power!”

With this the warrior waited until Acumenius finished

Then stood from his position to reveal himself to all.

Baelorik, eyeing the next orator taking his turn,

Waved his mug in broad sway to guide the wand’ring eyes

Towards the warrior who sat far across the hall.

“Ho there, warrior! By your look I’d guess you a hunter!

Tell us your name and role and why you stand before us!

Delay your tongue not a moment though I suspect,

Your haste in rising telling me, that you will not!”

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Wearing a forest green cloak with hood shrouding face,

The hunter’s face peered out from his mask of shadow,

He stood, weathered by time but without loss of strength,

Broad shoulders and chest covered by tough leather

Tied tight with leather laces down the man’s broad back.

Brown rawhide gloves that hindered not his fingers

From using the ivory bow stretched across his back,

Brown belt with bone-buckle held his green cloth pants

While rawhide boots stained with dirt covered his feet.

And beneath the leather vest lay a green tunic smudged,

Though his image was tarnished with dirt he held himself

With regal air and slowly slid his hood away to reveal

A head of grayish-blonde hair and a trimmed beard,

Green eyes stared out his weathered face with solemnity.

At his right, eating silently, stood a pure white wolf,

To his left, a falconer clad the same and holding quiver,

A beautiful blue-gray falcon perched upon his shoulder.

“I stand,” the hunter began, “Sent by the land of Ivel.

Long I’ve lived within the walls of the capital city,

Many years served within the army that helped expand

The lands that our great host now rules with steady hand.

A score more years than that I’ve spent in the wild,

Trodding through thorn bush and swamp, living in peace.

For the forests of Ivel have no rival, none compare.

I have set foot within the shadowed glades that surround

Tyre’ Negoth’s great lair and still Ivel’s seem worse.

Thus, being many a lawman’s tracker and villain’s hunter,

I was summoned to serve this party as their eyes and ears

Ensuring their safe arrival at the dragon’s great lair.

Without hesitation I accepted, not for man’s salvation,

But to stop the corruption of the once beautiful woods

That surround this very hall and reach out to all lands.

I bring nothing but my bow, my best tracking wolf, Veil,

And my friend, Immundus, an unrivalled falconer and ally.

As for me, my name is Elden Dinari and my part’s done.”

The hunter, with sharp eyes glanced towards Acumenius,

Resuming his seat, passing a beef leg to his wolf.

Baelorik, his awareness dulled with age paid no heed,

Rising to his feet with an air of a knowing man:

“In truth, I have heard little of you, noble stranger,

Yet the judge speaks of your many deeds with respect,

Thus I trust my friend’s words and welcome you openly!

All raise your cup to this veteran of the wild,

I hold you in great respect, for even I would not dare

To venture into the wilderness and battle beasts

That you veteran hunters call simple trophies!!”

With that, Baelorik downed another mug of ale in toast

As all others raised their thick mugs in honor, too,

Cheers of respect and admiration rising through the hall.

Save the judge who, a smirk coating his pale visage,

Flowed to his feet and hushed the joyous mob and spoke:

“Elden, my practice makes me skeptic to all things unseen

And proof is all that cures the illness of my disbelief.

Now, I have faith in the talents that many praise you of,

Yet these beer-soaked men all welcome you thoughtlessly,

No harm intended to all here, but let us see your skill!

Thus we all may never be frowned upon for appointing

A bumpkin as the guide to such a royal, regal group!”

Had the judge’s words not been so effortlessly elegant,

Most would’ve started for their sword, yet they stayed,

Save one man whose ears heard offense in every corner.

“Why you swine of a man, if that is even what you are!

You call us all foolish for greeting an offenseless man?

I shall reduce you to what your appearance states!”

The drunkard, toppling several empty mugs before him,

Rose with dagger clenched in hand to slay the judge,

Yet no sooner had he stood then he was carried far away,

An arrow tip shot through his tunic’s loose shoulder

And carrying him to the solid oak walls of the chamber,

Where as the first arrow ceased it’s forward travel,

Another was in the tunic’s other shoulder and a third

Imbedded in the scant loose cloth of the drunkard’s leg.

By the time the first stopped quivering in the wall,

A fourth and fifth had found their mark: the other leg

And a tuft of cloth in the crotch of the drunkards pants!

The drunkard, as did the entire hall, looked in awe

As the hall fell silent save the dying hum of string.

The hunter stood with silent expression, his bow in hand.

Then a resounding clap from the magistrate echoed out:

“That’s more than proof for all our eyes I’m sure,

And you not only testify to your skill but add pleasure

To my already festive night, you’ve made it better yet,

For drink and word do not forgive evil but instead beget,

Thus this drunkard shall find himself within the cells,

And thus let the festivities return as all is well.”

All laughed at this for none believed the judge so mean

As to insult the entire hall with such words as his,

Yet all agreed that a time in the cellars would teach,

The brazen fool to think before he acts or speaks.