The sound coming from the brush could very well have been a Troll, the grunting noise and thrashing about was a common approach for these smelly creatures. Rueban stepped cautiously behind the nearest tree, and removed his dagger from its leathery home. He molded to the tree as if the very bark itself and mused.
"Aye what a surprise this beastie is going to have. The predator becomes the prey." Rueban is an elder of sorts in the realm of humans, he has seen many a moon that has graced his skies.
He is of small stature compared to most in this land, but of a goodly build. His mane is long and gray with a hint of facial hair covering all but his chin. It was Rueban's desire for adventure that brought him to this Land and it was truly adventure that he found. He grew up in another town called Leinster in a far away land. He was known as Rueban Lyons Baiscne, of the Clan Baiscne, and the House of Cumhail, a descendant of Fionn mac Cumhail, son of the former leader of the Fianna. All Rueban ever wanted was to experience life at its fullest, not to fall into the burden of leading the Fianna.
Rueban closed his eyes and listened for his target to come into the clearing. His intention was to swing low and gut the beast in one motion. As he began to turn on his target he realized that the usual Troll stench was not there. Reuban pulled back his dagger just in time to cut only leather.
"By the Gods Rue what are you trying to do?"
On the ground holding together a six inch opening in his tunic was Ransom. Ransom was a young man that stood a good head taller than Rueban, and also was of a goodly build. Ransom was a Wizard, a very ambitious one that had great potential. Rueban had become very fond of this young man. They hunted together quite often in Ransom's early days before joining Knights of Lore and Legend, a Guild that was founded on Honor and Loyalty to all that is good. This Guild has taken many in and made them feel like family. This is Rueban's only family now, and he was very proud when Ransom was accepted into the Guild.
Rueban knelt down beside his young friend and looked at the hole that could have been deadly.
"I am so sorry Laddie, I thought ye were a Troll, with all the noise ye were makin." Ransom placed his hand on Rueban's shoulder and thankfully took the helping hand, and returned the smile on Ruebans face. Ransom began to laugh.
"Youre gettin old Rue and slow, if I were a troll I'd be dragging you back into the woods by now." Laughing, Rueban picked up the young man, tossed him over his shoulder and began to spin.
"Old?" "Ill show ye old Lad." Spinning faster and faster with both laughing and throwing insults they tumbled to the ground. Ransom rolled to his feet with ease and held out his hand still laughing. Rueban took Ransoms hand and stood next to his young friend.
"Laddie what possessed ye to make so much noise coming through the brush?" As the two began to walk Ransom explained his noisy approach.
"I tried to get a ride to the Fields, thats where everyone is hunting, but there was no Wiz around to give me a lift." In the Guild the Wizards had created a communication over the air. This allowed members to keep in touch with each other and was very useful in battle. It was also very useful to call in for rides to other locations.
Ransom shook his head and said, "Then Silver piped up and said if she had to walk then I did to."
Rueban smiles. "Now laddie, the walk will do ye good, besides I am going there myself and could use the company." Ransom looked at the cut in his leather tunic and smiled.
"Yeah, and you need a body to protect you too." The two jostled one another and laughed as they walked toward the Killing Fields. The Killing Fields were a place that not all of the Land could or would travel. This was a place that only the most seasoned of man or beast would be. Many had tried and many were left for the Druids. There was a certain area of the Fields that one could always find members of KOLL This was affectionately known as "The Spot." Here you would see members hunting sparring and getting trained in the fine arts of combat.
What a time to hunt it was, it was late in the season of "Enid." Enid was the Goddess of all things good and romantic. It was at this time when young men would turn their gaze from the beasts of the Fields to the young ladies of the land. The hunter would then change their tactics of the hunt. Weapons would be put away and other tools would be used, tools of wooing the one who has taken your heart. Up and down the Streets of Kurz and Leinster there was always a spirit of joy and happiness.
People living their lives to the utmost, not having a care in the world. People were given in marriage, and families were being blessed with strings of healthy children. In spite of the usual inconveniences of the Thieves and the occasional Jumpers this land has been at peace for many years. Peace that would soon shatter to hopelessness and despair.