<div class="floatleft">(http://drakonis.org/uploads/7/v/0/7v0ng7m0e3/2010/09/19/20100919230558-9765ca7b.jpg)</div><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 18pt;"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: impact;"><span class="bbc_u">A Man of Mercury:</span></span></span><br/><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 18pt;"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: impact;">Devrier Wick</span></span><br/><em>Ranger of the Rosewood Forest</em><br/>Character Sheet (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheetview.php?sheetid=263351); 44 HP (Current 44); AC 22<br/><br/>Arrows:  46 in quiver; 4 in werewolf<br/><hr/><br/>The werewolf's life sputtered into oblivion as it fell face-flat before him.  Wick, astonished, slung his bow over one shoulder, pocketed his dagger, checked his arrows in their quiver, and then unsheathed his greatsword at his hip.  Gripping it with two hands, blade down, he approached the body of the unmoving beast, lifted his arms upwards, and slammed the tip of his blade downwards over the spine, all in an effort to ensure the beast's descent into darkness.  He then fell backwards, landing seated next to a tree, dropping his blade beside him, drawing his palms to his face, feeling the weight of what just occurred.  But Wick knew that there was no time to agonize or to ponder life's consequences.  He would beat himself up about not seeing his quarry's true nature at some other time.  But now, he was in the midst of nature, and nature is most treacherous to those who are putting away matters of the soul.<br/><br/>He had to act quickly, for there were many things to do.<br/><br/>Helofirth, Wick's hawk, watched from a branch as Wick constructed a truncheon out of an old tree trunk.  He then dug a four foot trench that was perhaps a foot wide.  Then he made a bed of tree branches over the trench, and then gathered combustibles like dry leaves, thin twigs, and long grasses, and piled them on top of the bed of branches.  Then he gathered more logs, pyramiding them in such a manner that they created something akin to an altar, upon which he would put the werewolf, at least, after he butchered it.  Wick amputated one of the werewolf's hands, removed its jaw and filled his waterskin with werewolf blood, after downing the remaining water.  He thought that an alchemist or a wizard might be able to use these things, but he didn't think he could actually gut and skin the werewolf, so unto the altar of wood it went.  He lit the altar on fire, creating a funeral pyre.  The remains were all wrapped up in his cloak (he would have to purchase another cloak once in the hamlet).<br/><br/>He picked up the wolf that had come to assist him and set him down away from the pyre.  The wolf would have to be skinned, gutted and butchered.   "Thank you my friend," he said.   "I'd be dead without you."  He would come back to the wolf later.<br/><br/>Then he returned to the mouth of the cave, lifting his lamp from his belt and looking within.  His first task was to search amongst the remains for anything of worth:  weapons that could be salvaged, items that could be used to identify the dead, gold.  Then he'd transport those dead limbs to the pyre for burning.  Once this was all done, he returned to the wolf, sliced it down the stomach, expertly manipulated the wolf's fur off the wolf's skin, removed the gut, careful of not piercing the bladder and the gut, since they were necessary for tanning the pelt.  Perhaps he might make some arrowheads from its bones, but he wasn't certain.  He butchered the tender meat, placed it in packets made out of thick leaves which he then hung over a tall branch with his rope.  The remains of the wolf were placed in the pyre.<br/><br/>If the sun was setting, he'd have to make his camp.  But if there was enough time in the day, he'd head in to a hamlet with his discovered/made goods.<br/><br/><strong>OOC:</strong><br/><br/>Please feel free to interrupt this scene at any time, GM.<br/><br/>Survival:  21 to butcher wolf; 25 to create funeral pyre.<br/>Search:  21 to search for items.