Engine of survival - Rift
Posted: Tue Sep 17, 2019 10:54 am
Present
Still some time before the sunrays of dawn would kiss this land, and before green and pink would meet at the horizon, I was out in the forest, following my prey. I moved slowly, watching every step I took as with the slightest of noise those black eyes would look in more directions than I ever would be able to. I wondered what magic was responsible for deer possessing eyes that faced sideways, offering them a rather peripheral vision. It has them uniquely adapted to detect and escape those who hunt them. In the world below this crust, almost everything was a predator, but also a prey since there always appeared something bigger, meaner or simply something with teeth that were sharper than the other.
The Surface came across as alien to me, and the first time I started observing these herds of deer, I wondered how it was possible they even existed. They appeared no hunters nor predators themselves, nor were they powerful or did they possess any magical abilities. All they had was their speed and their senses. In the Underdark that wouldn’t be enough, but out here, they simply seemed to exist and even co-exist with those who hunted them. The answer why was rather simple though. There weren’t as many predators on the Surface as in the world below. People, and also deer were relatively safe when considering their death rate in nature.
When considering these woods not even that far from Baldur’s Gate, it was as if I was the only soul to have ever walked here. When I stopped, all I could hear was a very very soft susurration of the leaves in early morning breeze. Normally, this kind of silence would have chilled me in the caverns below, especially when standing in a near inky darkness. But not today, and not out here. With dawn coming, the trees became silent silhouettes against a gradually brightening sky. In the Underdark, path and feet just melt together in blackness and it was undeniably dark like forever.
I froze as there was a crunch of leaf and twig, but it wasn’t me. The deer I was following had started to move again. For a moment I wondered what its thoughts were if it possessed such. These animals were born to live freely and fully, yet at the same time couldn’t always afford to walk with nonchalant ease. Neither were they born to be brave or capable of pushing fear aside. If their young would be in danger, they would likely surrender them, knowing they weren’t able to fight. Perhaps they would mourn over their loss, likely, and their only lesson they may draw from it was perhaps to be more careful next time.
Not careful enough though. The deer neared the glade where I -once it abandoned the bush- would have a clean shot. Already I could see its furry coat shining like silver in the morning twilight. I frowned as I aimed. Maybe…. maybe it prayed for a safe passage. Maybe it was even aware I was there, and it was hoping that it could reach the other side of the forest. Perhaps to reach its herd, or perhaps to find a new. Maybe. But not today.
There was a soft click-thunk of the firing mechanism as I pulled the trigger, followed by muted twang of the crossbow-string. A bolt headed for the deer’s neck which stuck out from the foliage. I know the area where its lungs or heart sat would have been a larger target for a perfect shot and kill, though it was its windpipe which proved more of a challenge. I stepped forward cautiously, and moments later my hand touched the deer’s forehead. Did I feel guilty over how comforting and safe this deer may have considered these assumed empty woods? Have I never turned to Ibrandul and prayed for safe passage through the darkness when I explored the next passage, road or street new to me… ?
Still some time before the sunrays of dawn would kiss this land, and before green and pink would meet at the horizon, I was out in the forest, following my prey. I moved slowly, watching every step I took as with the slightest of noise those black eyes would look in more directions than I ever would be able to. I wondered what magic was responsible for deer possessing eyes that faced sideways, offering them a rather peripheral vision. It has them uniquely adapted to detect and escape those who hunt them. In the world below this crust, almost everything was a predator, but also a prey since there always appeared something bigger, meaner or simply something with teeth that were sharper than the other.
The Surface came across as alien to me, and the first time I started observing these herds of deer, I wondered how it was possible they even existed. They appeared no hunters nor predators themselves, nor were they powerful or did they possess any magical abilities. All they had was their speed and their senses. In the Underdark that wouldn’t be enough, but out here, they simply seemed to exist and even co-exist with those who hunted them. The answer why was rather simple though. There weren’t as many predators on the Surface as in the world below. People, and also deer were relatively safe when considering their death rate in nature.
When considering these woods not even that far from Baldur’s Gate, it was as if I was the only soul to have ever walked here. When I stopped, all I could hear was a very very soft susurration of the leaves in early morning breeze. Normally, this kind of silence would have chilled me in the caverns below, especially when standing in a near inky darkness. But not today, and not out here. With dawn coming, the trees became silent silhouettes against a gradually brightening sky. In the Underdark, path and feet just melt together in blackness and it was undeniably dark like forever.
I froze as there was a crunch of leaf and twig, but it wasn’t me. The deer I was following had started to move again. For a moment I wondered what its thoughts were if it possessed such. These animals were born to live freely and fully, yet at the same time couldn’t always afford to walk with nonchalant ease. Neither were they born to be brave or capable of pushing fear aside. If their young would be in danger, they would likely surrender them, knowing they weren’t able to fight. Perhaps they would mourn over their loss, likely, and their only lesson they may draw from it was perhaps to be more careful next time.
Not careful enough though. The deer neared the glade where I -once it abandoned the bush- would have a clean shot. Already I could see its furry coat shining like silver in the morning twilight. I frowned as I aimed. Maybe…. maybe it prayed for a safe passage. Maybe it was even aware I was there, and it was hoping that it could reach the other side of the forest. Perhaps to reach its herd, or perhaps to find a new. Maybe. But not today.
There was a soft click-thunk of the firing mechanism as I pulled the trigger, followed by muted twang of the crossbow-string. A bolt headed for the deer’s neck which stuck out from the foliage. I know the area where its lungs or heart sat would have been a larger target for a perfect shot and kill, though it was its windpipe which proved more of a challenge. I stepped forward cautiously, and moments later my hand touched the deer’s forehead. Did I feel guilty over how comforting and safe this deer may have considered these assumed empty woods? Have I never turned to Ibrandul and prayed for safe passage through the darkness when I explored the next passage, road or street new to me… ?