The Hunt is On (Adkir)

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Gunther observed the group that he was with as he sat and partook in a simple meal of bread and cheese, taking a swig of water from his water skin, his experienced eyes sizing them up. It was a small group of men, about four including himself. He took mental notes of the way they moved, their equipment, and their level of alertness. He was confident he could hold his own if things went south; he had fought a manticore before, even killed it, though it had wiped out half the unit he was with. His thoughts collected, he rose from where he was sitting, wiping his lips and brushing crumbs of food from his mustache as he spoke up, taking charge.

"Alright men, let's get a move on. The sooner we kill this foul beast and bring the mage what he wants, the sooner we can get out of this god forsaken place and spend our coin on booze, wenches, and fine food."

His comment earned a nervous chuckle from at least two of the three others with him. The old man ignored them as he turned to the third. He wasn't quite sure what to make of the unusual looking dwarf. Gunther had been around a long time, and had even had dealing with the dwarves when he had discreetly commissioned the making of his sword, but this was like no dwarf he had ever met, covered in furs and smelling of the earth. He wasn't sure what qualified the dwarf as a guide to get them through the forest.

"So, Adkir was it? Lead the way. The client said you would know where to go. I'm not getting paid by the hour, so the sooner we move, the better."

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Adkir had been commissioned to lead a few guys into the forest that he called home. It took him some probing to find out why before he would accept. As a defender of nature, he wouldn't assist anyone attempting to do any logging or mining. Or even hunting a large number of creatures. He'd actively hamper any activities he thought were an afront to nature. Turns out this bookguy wanted a manticore. Or rather, part of it. Adkir wasn't fond of Manticore's, and he was actually being plagued by one. So this would help him out, assuming he was able to trap the beast. He looked over his little troupe, two of them were not much to really speak of. The third stood out. An older gentleman. His age along garnered some respect from Adkir.

The man made a remark that Adkir didn't really react to. Aside from possibly buying alcohol or ingredients for alcohol, he didn't really share any after-work activities. Soon after, the man addressed Adkir directly.

"Aye. Adkir Frostbeard." He replied, turning his attention to the group. " 'verybody ready." He stated. It wasn't a question, but rather a declaration of the group's status. He picked himself up off of the ground using his 'custom made' axe as a walking stick. The end of the halft was gnarled and lumpy, the blade made of an Ankhg mandible. Honestly it appeared to be more akin to a Military Scythe than a battle axe.

Once on his feet, he spread his toes, gathering a small bit of loose dirt between his toes before he set off. He has spent the last few months living in the forest with nearly no contact with the outside world save from a few minor trade runs with small villages, and as a result he has become somewhat green. His beard had a faint green tint, and even had a few lively looking leaves poking out through some of the hairs. A calloused hand came up and lifted the bear helmet up onto his head and made sure his equipment was secure before he began a light jog from the dirt path towards the forest that was a short distance away. For a dwarf he moved pretty fast, the bear pelt bouncing between strides. He held his pace as he entered into the lightly wooded outer edge, slowing to a stop when the terrain became too hard for your average male to keep pace.

"Watch your footing from here on." He stated. He continued to lead the group deeper and deeper into the forest, the further in they got, the slower and more cautious he became.

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Gunther was able to follow along well enough, the old man fairly experienced at moving through places like deep forests from his experiences during long marches in many wars, though the weight of his armor meant that he was not able to move too fast. Nevertheless, he kept up just behind the dwarf, letting him lead the way into the forest. The other two seemed capable of keeping pace, though he was less concerned with them, having no real affiliation with them. As their pace slow and the terrain got harder to maneuver through, Gunther slowly drew his sword, the steel ringing softly as it was freed from his scabbard, the naked blade's runes glowing a dark blood red. He did not sense any danger yet, but since they were hunting such a dangerous beast, he was no about to talk any chances. It had been a while since he had hunted a manticore, and if his memory served correctly, they were quite territorial.

"So, Adkir, you ever killed a manticore before? They're quite dangerous. If you see the one we're looking for, let me take point. My armor should protect me against it's needles. I'd rather our guide not get skewered."

The old man made care not to slash at any of the branches or bushes that may lay on their path, mindful of the dwarf. He didn't know anything about him, but he seemed like the naturey type, almost like a druidic hermit. He got the feeling the short and stocky man might get a bit offended if he started to hack away at random plants in the forest.

"How long have you been out here, dwarf? You almost blend in with the forest."

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(I need to remember/relearn how he talks.)

"Aye. I've bested one before. I've nay to go one on one before. Sumthin' I wanta do sumday. Nay, ye stay back. I promise, it won't see me." He states, continuing to lead the group deeper into the forest slowly. He clambered over a fallen log, landing in the dirt with a minimal amount of noise. His bear pelt had, much like his beard, began to take a green tint from about shoulder level down. The head was still a natural, dark brown, and the teeth still appeared to be white.

"Been in dis 'ere woods fer....4 months? Been livin' ina forest fer prolly 75 years. Be'a poor Prot'ektor o' nature iffin i cannae blend." A soft rustle on the wind drew his attention off towards some point ahead of them. The brush was thick with vines, broad leaves, and shrubberies bristling with spikes. Through a small gap, Adkir spotted a rather large tree with upward pointed branches that appeared fuzzy from this distance. His mind trailed briefly from his objective, he wanted some of those Sleepy Willow leaves. More specifically he wanted the sap. That would need to wait, however. He looked straight up and got a good sense of his location, mentally marking the spot for later exploration.

A brief movement high in the tree caught his eye. He held a hand up to signify his troupe to stop and stood up from his spot near a tree. "We're safe. Dis area's guarded." He stated, his eyes staring down a thick, humanoid-shaped branch high in a tree. He propped his axe against his shoulder, the haft resting on the ground, and cupped both hands around his mouth. He made a series of sounds best described as a bird call mixed with a growl and the forest came alive. So to say. Several individuals made their presence known by emerging from their concealment. The bulk appeared to be humans, or elves, draped in browns and greens. Some had cloaks made of fresh, large green leaves.

A short distance ahead, a large tree's bark began to warp and sway as a large, slender, female-looking dryad emerged. The creature appeared composed entirely of wood, with wild twigs jutting from the back of it's head in place of hair. It was oddly attractive. If one looked up and had noticed the human-shaped branch earlier, they would notice that particular branch was now missing. The Dryad was armed with a bow with a number of twigs and leaves sprouting from it. The bark of the tree where the Dryad emerged was also back to it's previous un-warped state.

"T'is 'k men. Shush." he stated, holding a hand towards them with his fingers outstretched to signal them to stay. He took a few steps forward and bowed to the Dryad. A slow downwards head-tilt was all the response the Dryad gave.

The following minutes consisted of Adkir attempting to communicate using a series of sounds and gestures. Based on his gradually increasing annoyance one could infer that there was a language barrier here. While Adkir knew the druidic and even Sylvan language back in his homeworld, he has not encountered this version yet.

After several additional minutes of frustrating non-verbal communication, Adkir got into his pack and withdrew a sheet of parchment and a small stick of charcoal. On it, he drew a rough sketch of a manticore next to a pair of crossed swords. He also drew a doublesided arrow with a bag on either end, indicating; hopefully, trade.