Rezna stands along with Turail and 2 of his house guards. The men seem to have armed themselves sufficiently and are getting ready to head out to hunt. Sheesh...they all brought their guards on a hunting trip. What sport is that?

Wearing his less royal clothing, Theowyn heads toward the men preparing for their ventures out. The bow is slinged on Theowyn's shoulder, though he is still armed with a sword. "Room for one more?" Theowyn is becoming better at this less formal language, where he's just one of the men.

There IS a war nearly on, if Rezna will recall. And its not as if each man brought 100, just a few. Turail turns around as the prince hails the party. "Actually, we could use one more good bowman." He grins a little. "Rezna thinks we may have something big to hunt."

Rezna looks to the Prince and pats the side of his crossbow. "Sure thing. You know how to use that bow of yours?"

Theowyn arches his eyebrow, always finding it amusing to see the small Cairhienin carry about the big crossbow. "Indeed. The train such things in the Tower to some Warders," he notes with a humored shrug. A couple of Queen's Guards follow behind, of course.

Rezna looks to the guards...then to the 2 nobles and nods. "I don't know what's out there, but whatever it is it's big and it's mean. I smell that much."

Turail gives Rezna a weird look. "Smell?" He glances at the prince. "I don't smell anything yet." Not even with the void employed.

Rezna smiles. "A figure of speech Duke Roesone...Queen Haely always told me...I had a nose for trouble."

Theowyn comes in between Rezna and Turail, tapping both their shoulders. "The man is rarely wrong on these matters," Theowyn notes to Turail, urging them forward.

Rezna says "I first picked it up on my way here. Follow and I shall see if I can pick the trail back up again"

Rezna heads into the woods...

"By all means, lead on." Turail glances at the prince again, wondering what story is behind that, and then follows Rezna, the four bowmen chosen from the Roesone guards earlier trailing behind as well.

"Don't let the short man fool you, he knows a few things," Theowyn smirks, urging them upwards and into the woods. The Queen's Guardsman try not to get in the way, following some distance behind.

Rezna is an odd one to follow in this setting. In Caemlyn he can see all the obstacles, there are not so many little things. here in the forest however, it is a different story. There are too many things for his eyes to pick up and tell his body to avoid. briars and branches and weeds of every sort catch his legs. Little things that most others would be annoyed by and start watching out for. It does not seem to bother him...Whatever it is, he just walks right through it. There is a good reason why he usually stays in...civilization. He seems to know where he is going though, occassionally stopping and taking in a long breath of air.

Turail chuckles softly as he follows from time to time. He doubts very much, with that bushing straight through everything, that Rezna will lend himself too much to sneaking up on whatever they are about to stalk.

"A natural in the forest..." Theowyn goes on in whispers loud enough to be heard by Rezna. "If the Ambassador were to be plopped down into the forest, he would certainly survive." Theowyn is thinking at least for a few days, but he smirks, and continues to follow.

Yes it's true that Rezna is not exactly sneaking...but with the 6 or 7 guards loidering along behind...likely whatever it is that is out there will get wind of them long before they get there anyway. Rezna seems momentarily confused as wind changes. He pauses looking around for some familiar land mark. This he finds in the form of a large gnarled looking stup just beyond which there is a large steeply sloped hill. "Up there." He says with a grunt, not much looking forward to the climb.

Turail looks up the hill, noticing any loose rocks, and the way the brambles and bushes grow on it appraisingly. Then he kneels and looks at the ground, which Rezna does not seem to have been looking at, at all. That he cannot figure out. How does one track, except by tracks?

From Entry Hall: Royal Palace of Andor, Caemlyn, Kellian says " Idling at the moment, Phone call :)"

Theowyn begins to set up the high path, turning back to Turail with a slight urging. The Prince contemplates matters fully, and then decides it is simply better to continue up the long hike.

Rezna begins troping up that hill. no he has not yet looked to the ground and so far there are no tracks to be found. He seems sure of himself though, either that or this is some cruel joke. "so tell me guys...you do stuff like this often?" small talk time. And yes this hill sucks to climb...one of those gradual wearing down of the leg muscles

From Entry Hall: Royal Palace of Andor, Caemlyn, Kellian says " Hi, I'm back :)"

Turail follows the other two up the hill, glancing back down at the guardsmen who are following them. His eyes are alert, scanning, watching. He has a flicker of a cautious voice in his head. Not much room for shooting whatever's up here. He loosens the sword in its sheath just for the sake of security.

"The first for me for a while," Theowyn continues to look up ahead to this goal that they're moving towards. "This thing isn't too deadly, is it?" The Prince is in a lighter mood, no doubt, and certainly is feeling a little too safe.

Rezna plows his way to the top of that hill. There are tall trees al around, looming high over everyone. It's really very peaceful There is a large stream here which runs down the other side of the hill. It's a deep rocky stream. Near that stream are the decaying bodies of a number of fish or what is left of them, and it is att his point that the observant would be able to pick up bear tracks. "Well in that case...how do you usually entertain yourself?"

Turail can be heard chuckling from behind the Prince. "Stones. Sparring. Music. Take your pick, Rezna. Youre telling me you have never socialised with nobles before?" Amazing how all the titles seem to evaporate in the wild.

Rezna does not look back as he moves to the stream to examine the evidence and the paw marks which were obviously left by a large bear. "As a rule...I am not welcome in many circles but my own."

"Within Andor that is different, is it not?" Theowyn asks, continuing the path that the man leads. "Though entertainment is relative. Some might find their work entertainment enough, correct Ambassador?"

Rezna says "We find it where we can get it Prince Theowyn"

Rezna points to the tracks. Things you can follow without the aid of his nose...

Rezna answers the Prince's first question now. "I have found the vast majority of persons I have gotten the chance to know to be quite reasonable." He pauses. "Ah yes, I had forgotten. I received a letter from my Queen yesterday..."

The blademaster's ears perk up a bit from his position as third on the train. The tracks of the bear, and other evidences, like claws on trees have been noted as he's passed. Hmmm.. looks like a big one. He pauses on the trail to whsiper something to the guardsman behind him, which si them passed backwards to the other 3 bowmen.

Rezna knows nothing about bears really...or hunting them. The fish and tracks he picked up on, the scratch marks however he attaches no meaning to whatsoever. But yes...it is a big one

"An interesting hunt." Theowyn's voice is more of the whisper now, as it does become obvious that whatever they are chasing will certainly not be happy about being found. "The Queen?" he asks, stepping forward closer to Rezna.

Turail sidles up next to the prince and leans to murmur in his ear, though he stops at Rezna's comment which is directed at the quality of Roesone wine. "I am both flattered and pleased, Ambassador." He does then lean to murmur to the Prince softly, "A bear. A large one by the tracks. Take care, it will be difficult to kill."

Rezna does not seem so worried. Witht he company he is keeping he's likely one of the safest men on earth right now. he's not in the market of killing things...just pointing them out for others. "Yes. I am not sure of the details, but rumor has it there's something about mutual non agression and reduced grain prices coming down the pipe." He turns to look to Turail. "And she asked me to please tell you that the wine I sent her was...superior."

The Prince had been enjoying the time away to not discuss politics, but this certainly stiffens his mood a touch. As much as it reassures him. "Indeed," Theowyn murmers quietly, looking to Turail then Rezna. "I am certain that Houses such as House Hune will be intrigued by the thoughts of lowering their grain prices."

Rezna smirks. "I am sure that QUeen Aislynn can be most convincing and compelling when she puts her mind to it."

Sounds a hair like political blackmail to Turail. The way it was phrased right after mutual non-agression in particular. He keeps this thought to himself however. Trust the Cairhienen to use a war to their advantage in trade. It happens. It might be worth the price to know one country at least, had something to gain in keeping good relations with Andor.

Rezna suddenly has a thought. he looks to Turail. "You know...if we do find this thing...and kill it, it looks to be pretty big. How we gonna get it out of here?"

"An interesting proposal," Theowyn goes on, a slight smirk coming to his features as he pats Rezna on the shoulders. "The way I see it, half the grain Cairhien uses it from Andor. I am glad that Cairhien will support Andor during any war. For, if they did not, the sudden disappearance of grain into Cairhien will have extraordinary inflation in grain prices." Theowyn shakes his head as he moves beyond Rezna. "To think, half the supplies suddenly disappearing. No ruler would survive such hardship."

Rezna follows along behind. "True enough, but wether one dies from starvation...or from outside pressures...the end result is still the same. he dies." An army of Murundians on one border, and an army of hungry little Carihienians on the other border. Sounds like a lovely little gang bang to me. :)

"A very good question." The Duke seems to grin slightly for a moment but the expression disappears quickly and he looks around the terrain, back down the hill, and then up some more. "We may have to parcel it up and carry it away in pieces."

Rezna smiles. "that might take all the Queen's horses and all the queen's men by the look of the tracks" Funny, talking about political blackmail one moment while making small talk the next.

"Indeed. We have enough of those around. And horses," Theowyn agrees. "Shall we set-up? And prepare to run in case neither arrow nor sword takes it down?"

Rezna says "That might be a good plan..."

Rezna is confident he could give away, being that he likely would make the least appealing morcel

"I suggest finding a good tree." Turail actually looks a little dubious at that advice however.

Rezna looks UP at the trees around and frowns. Ok so maybe he is toast...

Theowyn pushes onward. "Come fellos. We have nothing to worry about. A Blademaster, a Warder, and a master of the crossbow," he encourages them in a foolish sort of confidence. "And a half dozen guards," he adds.

Turail frowns slightly, "Against a 2 ton bear, Theowyn. Do not underestimate this sort of creature. Their weight alone makes them formidable." He follows after however, though turning to give some more directions to the guards with them. He didnt survive Shienar's wilds to his late thirties being silly.

Angels and Ministers of Grace defend us!

Rezna looks down at his crossbow dubiously "Ah..erm...yes let us press on." He follows along behind. He's actually going to have to fire it...not good.

"It might come down to swords," Theowyn agrees, pushing forward to the top of the hill. He stops dead in his tracks and looks downward. "Or worse..." he speaks in a near whisper then. Facing them, some thirty paces away, would be a big brown grizzly bear that's already all too alert of their appearance.

Rezna immediately begins fumbling with his crossbow...

Turail has the presence of mind to give directions to the bowmen to come up and spread out a little at the crest of the hill in a soft voice. It wont do to have one person take all the heat if it comes to that. Spread out they can better defend one another, than piled up in a line.

It is obvious that the bear knows something is up. Seems he and the ambassador have something in common...the ability to smell trouble. The lumbering giant rises up on his hind quarters, perhaps doubling his height as he does so.

Reynard spreads out from Turail's archers and nocks an arrow, readying to fire. He shakes his head as the bear rears up. This trip is starting to confirm for him that all nobles are mad.

Rezna continues to fumble with his crossbow

Theowyn arm grips around the bow, as he slowly begins to move it from his shoulders and then begin to arm the first arrow. "I feel we've already displeased it," he notes in that quiet whisper. "If we run, it will hunt us down." Theowyn wouldn't know any better, but damnit, that thing does not look like it will play nice. He stretches the string of the bow and prepares to fire.

Turail bends his own bowstring, taking a deep breath, and with the exhale of that breath, entering the void seamlessly. It is time to be clinically calm. "Don't miss, my Prince." He can be heard uttering softly. /If only Reslaric was here with his -spear-/ Somehow.. he thinks that might be of more use than a sword.

Reynard draws his bowstring to his cheek and holds there, awaiting the order to loose. He counts in his head how many archers there are and hopes that they'll be able to do something to that bear before it gets within mauling distance.

That bear sees the lot of you now....and he's not happy aout it.

"Fire..." Is all Theowyn states before releasing the first arrow. Already the second is being reached for, and he all too eagerly begins to take a step back as the next shot is pulled to his cheek and released. Nope, the bear won't be happy.

Reynard releases his arrow at Theowyn's command and reaches for his second as he steps backwards. He looses his second and reaches for yet another arrow.

Twack! an arrow smacks into that bear...then another...sinking first through that thick layer of fur...then his hide...and then the pure muscle that lurks beneath. The creature howels and quickly cmes down from its stance on both legs. That is 3 arrows that have hit the poor creature now. There is something about adrenalin though that amkes all the pain go away. It's hard to hit a creature like this someplace vital. It comes thungering up that hill...gaining speeda as it does so. it's intended target...one of the Roesone guardsman nearest it.

There is a barrage of swishing sounds as all four of the bowmen fire and reknock with a second arrow, fire again, and go for a third arrow. Turail moves into the thick of it, to join the guardsmen, rather than away with perfect calm, speeding a couple of arrows on their path, one of which actually hits the bear, and then dropping his bow in favor of his sword, which flashes out of its scabbard with speed and grace. Yup. This is gonna be ugly. Who wants to bet the Shienaran is gonna have another scar to show for this at the least?

maybe...maybe not. Bears are big and mean...but they still can take only so much pounding. Loss of blood and loss of power tend to go hand and hand. The animal charges valiantly up that hill..but there is something about being hit by a dozen arrows that has a stifiling effect.

Lelldorin cocks and fires another arrow of his own, drawing smoothly to his ear before firing. He aims for the bear's vitals, hoping to slow down the beast.

Theowyn reaches for a few more arrows before he begins to gain in his concern. When he notices the flash of metal near him, Theowyn does widen his eyes before drawing another arrow. He had not brought many with him, expecting to be shooting at deer or something. "Ambassador, I suggest you shoot...." his voice trails before another arrow swooshes away at the thing.

Suggest all you want...the reality of the situation is that Rezna has no clue what to do with that crossbow. he raises the thing to his shoulders. Odd sight that little man standing there before that lumbering beast. With clarity of prupose...he takes aim and pulls the trigger...and snap! The string on the crossbrow breaks...seems he's had it drawn back for far too long. Instead of going forward as is proper. the arrow flops over and falls to the ground. Doh!

That bear however somes almost to a lumbering halt as lell's arrow strikes home. It is nestled in with a dozen or so others...The bear comes right up to Turail and takes a clumsy misdirected...desperate swipe.

Reynard continues to draw and fire arrows at the bear as he moves to a better angle so he doesn't risk hitting Turail. This seems to be working. Who would've thought? He is starting to get low on arrows, though.

Lelldorin continues his barrage of arrows, shooting at the bear's open flank as he swipes at the Duke. Hopefully, this beast will go down before the Duke gets more ambitious.

The blademaster is moving quickly. Very quickly. The mark on the blade can be seen as it flashes towards the beast's furry neck, even as Turail dances, and twists out of reach of that swipe. His purpose, to defend the charged guardsman who would have been fodder from certain death. Fortunate that so many arrows have been stuck in the bear however, because its doubtful he could take a bear on with a sword which was in perfect health and not be carried off in very bad shape.

The Prince would not be the First Prince without unleashing his own sword. The bow is dropped and the sword is favored, as Theowyn uses the distraction Turail is providing to approach the beast from the side. Not the smartest plan, but he keeps his feet parted and well adjusted to an eager escape, and then begins to flash the sword through the air and toward the beast's rib-cage of sorts.

A crimson spray of blood seems to go everywhere as the Blade master slices something...important. That bear is dying...it stumbles forward...on the verge of collapse. One must admire its resolution though. It roars...though said roar is softened by the gurgling sound of the blood welling up within him. One last swipe...those huge claws zipping out in what will be this bear's final act in this life.

Reynard stops firing arrows as both the Prince and the Duke take on the bear. He briefly thinks about drawing his own sword and helping, then shakes that idea away. These crazy nobles must be rubbing off on him.

Lelldorin frowns as the prince enters his line of fire. He makes a futile attempt to run to another line of sight, but pauses slightly, seeing the bear on his last leg.

A tiny miscalculation, a fraction of a second too slow and those claws rake across the blademater's thigh at an angle, grazing him, even as the blade flashes down on that huge paw. Red spreads across Turail's dark green breeches, darkening it to sickly black green. He scrambles out of the way, and backs up, defensively.

Just in time to see the bear collapse in front of him...Theo's strike to the ribs having turned the lights out for good within the bear.

Theowyn is violently taken down with the beast as the sword is jammed somewhere withinthe rib-cage. He dirties the knees of his slacks. With a struggle he removes the sword, and finds the sight of the bleeding Blademaster not too far off from it.

Lelldorin quickly moves forward, seeing his cousing raked by the bear's claws, and the prince knocked by the beast as well. With a muttered curse, he reaches their sides, before the convulsing bear.

It takes a moment for Turail's guard to let down and the bloodied heronmark to be lowered from readiness to strike the beast again. Finally, he wipes it off on the other leg of his now ruined breeches and scowls down at his leg. The void still held, and in fact, keeping him from showing the full breadth of how painful those four stripes on his leg are going to be. He slides the sword into its scabbard and removes his cloak, tearing a piece off the bottom after making a starter cut. He has a coldly unemotional expression as he starts to wrap the leg up and twist the cloth to put pressure on it and staunch the bleeding.

Lelldorin looks down at the duke's leg in an expression bordering on horror. Light, a moderately severe injury. "Cousin, you are injured!" He gasps, for lack of a less obvious statement.

Reynard moves forward to the downed Prince, "Are you alright, your Highness?"

Theowyn wipes his blade on the back of the bear and then sheaths his sword, making a deep circle around the beast toward the Duke that has clearly taken injury. There is a slight limp to him, but that is all. "Turail, friend. That may need a Wisdom," he manages that much as he looks to the injury, though shakes his head lightly. "We will stop the bleading. A Guard left in the camp is good with some herbs. They'd not let me go hunting without a man that could help with the injured." As Theowyn spots on Reynard, he nods. "It only a scrape," Theowyn insures.

Turail limps over to a rock and sits down on it to finish wrapping his leg up. There is blood all the way down the pantleg by now, slowly spreading. "Hmm. yes. It seems I am, and it may." Turail remarks softly, the borderlands in his speech, mostly surpressed over time becoming more clear, as the only detectable effect of stress incited by the wound. It's gonna be a long hike back.

Lelldorin frowns, kneeling to look at the wound. "Yes, we need to get back as soon as possible, cousin. You will also need to keep from walking with your full weight on it." He looks over to the prince, still frowning. "Are you injured as well, my prince?"

Reynard nods to the Prince and hmms quietly as he looks from the downed bear to the men in attendance. Yeah, a very long hike.

Theowyn conveniently looks to the other guardsman that is not Reynard. "Guardsman, head to the camp. We need horses here. One to help the Duke in his return to the camp, and some to pull our capture." He also requests the Guardsman that is more knowledgable with the herbs. "I am well," he confirms again, before setting to the side of Turail. "Is it bad?" he asks, this time more or less in a whisper.

Turail glances up from twisting the cloth around his leg a bit more, tightening and restricting the blood flow. "If it does not bleed too much more, it should be all right. Its flesh only." Turail whispers back to the prince. "The muscle is not cut." A good thing not to have happen, actually. Those sort of things tend to be crippling. This man would probably die promptly if confined to a chair, unable to dance swords, even if only in practice.

Reynard waits patiently out of the way, watching the surrounding woods and awaiting orders.

Lelldorin nods slightly, still looking at the duke's leg with concern.

The heat of the healthy fire shows through, as men begin to prepare for the meal that is nearly cooked. A boar toasts by a fireplace on the side. Six men had returned not long ago informing the campground that the bear is not far off. The conclusion is drawn that it will likely need to be stripped before it can go much further.

Turail sits on the ground with his back against a log, his injured leg slightly bent and resting gingerly out in front of him. The guardsman with the herbal experience has already attended to the wounds, and it no longer bleeds, though the fresh wrapping on it do show spots of blood through them. The bloodied pantleg has been cut off away from the wounds also. The man's calf shows a few other scars, mostly small ones as well. Turail reaches up and pulls the leather thong out of his hair which had held it in a ponytail, looking slightly annoyed with it suddenly. Possibly as its interferring with laying his head against the log with any comfort.

Lelldorin hovers over the Duke, not unlike a mother hen. "Would you perhaps like some tea, cousin? Or some food perhaps?" His eyes are a bit wild, and often a guard will look in his direction in annoyance.

Reynard finds a place to sit near the fire and leans back on his elbows, looking up at the sky.

Reynard lays there for a little while before getting back to his feet and heading over towards his bedroll. "I'm going to turn in. I have a late watch tonight."

Turail glances up to his mother-hen cousin and then to the departing guardsman. "Peace Favor, Reynard." There's a calm to his voice, as if he is not wounded. He turns his gaze back on Lelldorin however. "Come, sit down cousin. I do not lack. Please relax." The familiar rasp of the Duke's voice is purposefully targeted to be soothing.

Lelldorin nods nervously to Turail, and takes a seat somewhat reluctantly. "Yes, I suppose the worst is over, eh?" He says quietly, shrugging off the bow he had been wearing over his shoulder from habit.

"I am sure I will survive." Turail remarks half humorously. "Though tomorrow.. I believe I will return to Caemlyn to recover."

Lelldorin nods solemnly. "Yes, perhaps the trip should be cut short. I fear that we will likely do no better than that beast." He gestures vaguely toward the direction of the dead bear.

"Do not worry yourself so, cousin." Turail watches one of the guardsmen who had accompanied them stalking the bear walk by and then turns his attention back to Lelldorin. "It is not as if I have not seen wounds worse than this one, though I doubt very much I shall feel like hunting tomorrow. If it pleases you to stay and hunt with the party another day, please do so."

Lelldorin smiles slightly. "Well, I would not be a very good cousin if I did not see you back home. Besides, this trip has calmed my nerves. I feel ready to get back into the swing of things." He nods, and smiles.

Truth be told, the Duke does not really relish the ride back into Caemlyn that much, just the rest at the end of the ride. He's probably going to feel every bump and jolt, if he does not once again enter the black cold of the void. He leans back against the log a bit more, and glances up at the darkening sky. "Good... good. Perhaps when I am back on my feet.. I might tempt you to teach me a bit better control of a bow..." He muses softly, half to Lelldorin and half to himself.

Lelldorin laughs, and makes a small attempt at humor. "Well, perhaps you could then fight a bear from a distance?" He grins wryly, and runs a hand through his hair.

Turail chuckles and just shakes his head. "I suppose that was not my best tactical decision, but at the time.. it seemed more likely to me that I had a better chance point blank than the bowman." He scoots down a little more, careful not to jolt the leg.

Lelldorin smiles. "I will not frown upon your blademaster skill, but I always prefer a fight from afar." He smiles wider. "I was going to put an arrow through its eye before Prince Theowyn jumped in." He tosses a stick into the fire, chuckling slightly.

"So do I." The Duke remarks, shifting a bit more. "But since I cannot hit anything.. the point is really moot." He can't seem to get comfortable and so starts going to the trouble of getting up, and hobbles a few steps towards his tent. "Good night Lelldorin. I favor sleep."

Lelldorin smiles to his cousin. "Peace favor, Duke Turail. And good night."