Fellowship of the Dice

Borir heads over to the deer to make sure it's dead. The dwarf wouldn't have the creature suffer such great pain, so he ensures it's dead. While he's not a hunter by any means, he does stand smiling with one foot on the chest of the deer and his axe head resting atop the deer.

Varuthil watches another arrow go awry and shrugs to herself. She never claimed to be adept at hunting, so she feels no shame or frustration at her poor shots.

Aerth quickly hustles forward, knowing injuring a deer and leaving it to die slowly is very bad protocol. Suffering is nothing the thing should bear. The half-elf leaps over a bush, stops, sets his feet and quickly draws another arrow and fires.

Aerth gives chase along with the others, seeing one deer, arrow in its haunches, still dashing through the trees he moves to cut it off rightly guessing it would circle slightly toward the wounded side as it limps along. He finds himself nearly face to face with it, only ten yards between them, and he fires right into the throat of the creature, his arrow pierces the veins there and it screams and topples over.

For a moment there is nothing, just the distance sound of the hounds chasing what is left of the deer that are now so scattered and lost in Mirkwood you know you have no hope of catching them.

Borir raises his axe up high and cheers Aerth and the others. "Good job! We feast tonight!" The dwarf states as he looks around for the other group of woodsmen.

"Yes, well done," she says to Aerth and the others who brought down the deer. "I am afraid I made a poor account of myself, but no matter--we will have plenty of food tonight."

Pipkin stands by the first two deer, standing guard against any other creatures of the forest from trying to interfere with them. When he sees Borir appear return with the third deer, he practically cheers. "Well done, Borir. Well done, everyone. Three deer is certainly respectable enough that we won't have to hang our heads in shame at the coming feast." That was a fate that the hobbit had been fearing.

Wren smiles at Varuthil as he places a hand on her shoulder, "Indeed we do..."

He moves on to see how he can help with the fallen deer. As the others arrive, congratulations go around and Wren can't wait to try a bit of the days haul.

It takes a few minutes for the deer to be collected and drug to the clearing where Pipkin congratulates the fellowship on a job well done. It is true, this was a great venture, and one to be proud off. Just as Wren places a hand on Varuthil's shoulder and smiles you hear a horn ring out in the distance.

Three short blasts trumpet through the forest a short distance away. They seem hurried blasts, and you can guess they are from Almaric and his half of the hunting party.

"Get ready," Pipkin says, picking up his bow. "If they run the stag through this clearing, we might be able to help them."