A personal account of the Norwick rebuilding effort.

[JerrickRafe]

Twang-ang

The twin bowstrings reverberating nearly in time with one another were immediately followed by a loud, yet strangled, "Graacgk!" and the soft thud of a crumpling body.
The cruel visage that adorned this body now slack and expressionless, which only a moment ago had been contorted in a grimace of hatred and malice, ill intent visible even in the poor light of night, when the stars were dim and muted.
It was as if the sky itself reflected the feeling of a bastard half elf who knocked another arrow to a string, like the other ranger guarding the perimiter around the trees.

It was hard to listen for the guttural growls and threats uttered in a tongue unfamiliar to him that usually preceded a goblin attack, and even harder to hear their footsteps if they chose to be quiet. The Whack-whack sound of axes felling deadwood cut through the night like the arrows that protected the loggers, making Jerrick rely on signals from his wolf companion, Fayt, who could smell them before anyone saw them. When the lean grey shape shot out from his place beside the reddish haired archer, all he needed to do was look past the wolf to see a shape recognizably goblin, and fire over Fayt's head before the goblin knew he was detected.

It was a technique that Jerrick and Fayt had developed over time, and had proved necessary on nights like these. Jerrick's vision, like that of elves, was considerably better than that of human's at night, but not as keen as Fayt's eyes or nose, and Fayt knew to stay down when the thrum of a bowstring was heard.

Jerrick's thoughts were moving along as steadily as the stream of enemies that had been alerted to their prescense by the sounds, and he found the thought "What am I doing here" more than once. He was new to the land,in goblin infested lands, ni the middle of the night, helping to repair the Norwick gates with hunters and fighters that bested his meager skill by far.
Some help he would turn out to be if he needed to be carried back like so many logs.
These thoughts passed however, as did another arrow from his bow. Another thought, another life snuffed by his arrow.

It was halfway through the night when a snarl and a spray of blood assaulted him from the side, and the now startled druidic ranger dropped to a knee nearly cursing, and prepared to loose a shaft at point-blank range. The sight before him nearly made him laugh aloud. Fayt sat before him, and goblin's windpipe in his teeth, the goblin standing dazed before him, fountaining his life onto the forest floor with a shocked expression on it's face, before he landed on it. If a wolf could look smug, which Jerrick swore it could, Fayt was making the most ridiculous expression of "Aren't you glad I'm here" that he had ever seen.

The rustle of a too sharp breeze caught at Jerrick's hair and Fayt's fur alike, and was followed by the words, "Do not let yoru guard down." The other ranger guarding the woodcutters nocked another arrow as the goblin that had been sneaking up on Fayt and Jerrick fell forward, pushing the arrow lodged in it's face through the back of it's head.

Embarassed, and humbled by the man he knew as William, Jerrick let another arrow fly soon after, continuing his work. "300 arrows used to look like a lot" he told the ranger behind him, keeping his words quiet, but knowing they would be heard.

The night continued on like this, until the word came to gather the wood, and head back to the town to deposit the wood they had collected. Jerrick was soaked in blood from a few shots fired too close for comfort, and the use of his sword and shield, which were also dripping gore that had to be cleaned up before he carried all that he could of the wood.

The wood would be used to rebuild Norwick, recently razed, and help fortify the defenses around the town. It was not the best of wood, but druids knew that deadwood needed to be cleared, and it was a noble use to put it to. It was a druid who had let them out, the Archdruid Fadia, who was yet another reason Jerrick joined the group. He had a lot to learn about this land, and the desire to be amongst those of his kind had not yet guttered out as he had one hoped that it would.

Shaking off thoughts of past persecution and isolation, Jerrick made his way out of town, his heart lighter, his purse heavier, and another day dawning on the horizon. Maybe this day would bring tidings of better cheer. Perhaps even a warm shower before long. Goblin blood smelled like rot, and it wasn't the height of fashion either….

-End