» Sat Feb 19, 2011 12:15 pm
It sure has been a while, like 10 months since I began this story. So i chose to add one more chapter to it and see if anyone wanted it back.. its long. So without further adu..
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Chapter 17: The Wilderness
Andre followed Modryn through the highlands for what seemed like hours. The tall, savannah grass brushed against Andre’s legs, making them itch. The sun was low in the sky, casting brilliant reds and oranges to fill the heavens. It grew slightly chilly and Andre found himself crossing his arms, gripping his sides for some warmth. Modryn seemed indifferent, making no indication that he was cold. He made no indication of anything. Come to think of it, Modryn had remained silent most of the way.
The dark elf champion of the Fighter’s Guild trudged on up a hill, picking up pace. Andre silently followed. Once atop the hill, Modryn stopped and observed his surroundings; golden hills dotted the horizon from all sides. As Andre finally arrived up the hill and looked around himself, he felt as if he were in an endless sea of grassland. He had no clue where he was, exactly what Modryn hoped for.
“Set up camp here. I will bring back some game,” Modryn instructed the young bosmer.
Andre looked to Modryn, still having to squint from the rays of the sun, his one eye still bruised. “Why do you get to have all the fun?”
“Because you didn’t pay attention when I showed you how to build a tent,” Modryn replied flatly. “Anyways, I doubt you know how to hunt.”
Andre raised an eyebrow. Modryn’s comment seemed to come off as a little cold, which had been unlike him seeing as they usually poked fun at one another. Was he seriously mad about the tent? Andre thought.
Before Andre could say anything more, Modryn took off down the hill. “I took the manual with me!” The dark elf yelled as he reached the bottom of the hill.
Damn. Because Andre neglected to pay attention before, he was now being punished by his new mentor. Andre also had no clue how to set up a tent. With a sigh, he let his pack lazily slide off his shoulders and drop the ground. He then reached in it to retrieve the contents of the tent, tossing them down carelessly on the grass. Realizing he was running out of sunlight, he began poorly assembling the tent.
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The end product was not pretty. It barely resembled what Modryn had previously shown him and Andre knew that when his mentor would return that he would get an earful. However, dusk had already set and the moon had taken residence in the sky, emitting a weak light for Andre to see.
Andre was not happy with this campout already. He also needed to make a fire for the game that Modryn was supposed to bring back. Time passed and Modryn still had not returned. What the hell is taking him so long? Andre grunted, he was very hungry and getting impatient. He blindly reached into his pack, remembering he had snuck some food just incase of a situation like this. He produced an apple and some jerky and ate silently in the dark. As Andre ate he began to listen to his surroundings. Wolves howled in the distance, crickets sang and replied to one another, fireflies lit up every now and then. All of these elements reminded Andre of his isloation from civilization and his loneliness. The night grew colder, forcing Andre to cover up and wrap himself in blankets while taking shelter under his poor excuse for a tent.
He then came to a stunning realization. Modryn had ditched him. He left him there on purpose as a test. That’s why he took the book, so Andre would be forced to learn to survive. From the looks of it, Andre was failing this test. Andre felt betrayed. Betrayed by his old mentor, betrayed by his new mentor. As Andre sat there and soaked in his thoughts, he grew angered. He had alone time now to think about the past few days, his parents, those pirates.
Yes, come to think of it Andre was half way to Anvil from Chorrol. He could leave at dawn and arrive at Anvil late that night if he ran. Andre was now smug from his new plan. If they were going to leave him out here alone and by himself, he might as well get something accomplished. He brought back memories of his parents and his encounters with pirates. He didn’t notice it, but his knuckles turned white from gripping his blanket so hard. His teeth began to clench, and his eyes became narrow. He thought back to the wails form the grieving women. Oh how it fueled his flame. That story the man told of his parents death! Andre was fuming, all he could think about was ripping those pirates to shreds in Anvil. His hands became hot and red. He began to breath heavily. Smoke started to rise from his blankets. He was setting himself on fire with his own fireball spell!
Andre became aware of the intense heat and snapped out of his state. He jolted up as he noticed his blanket had caught fire and frantically snuffed out the flame with his foot. After cooling down, he felt he was ready to fight still. The only problem was that he needed armor and weapons, being left out without any of these crucial supplies by his mentor.
A part of him was afraid, telling himself that he wasn’t ready for this. It has barely been a week. However, Andre was making this decision on impulse and the influx of rage that ran through him, not reason.
Seeking shelter from the wind, Andre huddled back into his tent and prepared for bed, trying to think of a plan for tomorrow before falling asleep.
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A rustling nearby slowly woke up Andre. It was still night. Drowsily, Andre said, “Modryn, if that is you, it is too late. I made up my mind.”
There was no response, but as Andre listened, he realized that rustling was made by something heavier than a human. Andre’s eyes shot open in fright, as the figure made a low groan. A bear! Andre tried not to make noise as he slowly turned on his stomach and looked over to where the noise was being made. Not even fifteen feet from him sat a bear. It was rummaging through his pack. The contents were scattered throughout the hilltop. Andre forgot that there was still some food left in the pack and figured that it must have attracted this unwelcome visitor. The bear stuck its big, furry head inside the pack and made licking and crunching sounds, giving Andre the opportunity to slither out from behind the tent.
He inched backwards, carefully removing the blanket. Keeping his eyes on the bear at all times. Andre successfully was able to crawl to the opposite edge of the tent.
KINK!
His foot snagged the supporting pole, causing the front end to sway and topple. Wood smacked together alerting the bear, who immediately reached its head out of the pack. Andre panicked. He shot up and tried to run, however, the canvas of the tent was attached to his boot somehow, dragging it with him and slowing him down. The bear let out a roar, slobber falling from its mouth.
Andre attempted to shake his leg free, scared [censored]less. The bear started to approach Andre, leaving the goodies in the bag behind. The frightened bosmer grabbed at the canvas, pulling it up, hiding his body from the approaching bear. The bear gained on him, and when Andre judged that it was close enough he desperately threw the canvas at the bears head, hoping that the loose ropes would catch it and tie it up. However, Andre did not stick around to find out if his plan worked and he half dashed half stumbled down the hill. The bear was able to shake free from the makeshift trap and once again pursue his perspective dinner.
Andre ran through the highlands with the bear on his tail, once his thought process became clearer, he realized he could use magic. In mid stride he began to channel his energy, resurfacing heartbreaking and enraging memories. His hands grew hot. He could hear the huffs of the bear behind him. Andre curved his direction and emitted a powerful fireball from his palms., hitting the bear on the side of its head and knocking it over. It collapsed with a loud thud, vibrating the ground around it.
The beast’s fur was blackened. Smoke and the smell of burnt hair washed over Andre’s nostrils, causing them to flair. He collapsed himself, out of breath and panting as loud as the bear was before while clutching his cramped sides. His palms were blackened from his own spell and minor blisters formed. Andre’s mouth was so dry it felt as it was stuffed with cotton, causing him to gag when he attempted to swallow at first.
Andre observed his predator, at this point it was barely breathing, dying before him. While Andre hated to see animals die, especially one as noble as this bear, he knew that it was either him or it. Andre had a greater calling, this beast didn’t. The bear at this point was no further threat to Andre, who came over to the bear’s backside, and gently stroked his fur. A weak sigh came from the bear, who knew his time was coming. Andre tried to offer the ill fated beast some final comforts before it died, letting out a slow, deep gargle as it passed away.
This experience quickly taught Andre to appreciate life and the nature around him. He now understood that in to overcome his greatest obstacles, he must not panic, but control his thoughts and prepare his mind. His experience in the wilderness would ready him for his destiny. Andre now understood why he must persevere with his training and campout.
Andre returned to the hill and gathered his things that were strewn across the flattened highland grass. While reorganizing his pack, Andre discovered that there was a small iron combat knife in his pack. This was odd because Andre didn’t place it there. Knowing Modryn would not let him off easy and supply him with a weapon, he was able to conclude with a smile that it was his good old friend Cassius.
Heading back down the hill with his pack back on and the knife unsheathed, Andre again approached the bear. He began to cut away at the fur and ultimately attempting to fashion a pelt. Normally, Andre was not so keen to this kind of dirty work, but he was in a different state of mind, one intact with nature. He eventually cleaned it out and placed the pelt around him, with the bear’s skull placed on his head like a cap or hood. His shirt was now ruined and covered in blood, he discarded it on the rest of the bear carcass. He also was able to stuff his pack with some fresh meat.
The ordeal had begun Andre’s transformation into a real man. From his previous training, he had developed a tone body and some fighting knowledge. While he still relied on his magic, he hoped to be less dependent during the rest of the duration.
Andre, now looking like a wild savage with his bear pelt, tattered brown leather pants, and blood and dirt smeared torso and arms, trudged on through the wilderness with a new sort of confidence. What would happen next, only Akatosh knew.