Taking her plate and her seat, Arayna's brows knit together in thought as she took a bite of bacon. “I don't recall seeing a horse drawn plow in the forge behind the stall, Volare, do you keep it somewhere else?”
Printable View
Taking her plate and her seat, Arayna's brows knit together in thought as she took a bite of bacon. “I don't recall seeing a horse drawn plow in the forge behind the stall, Volare, do you keep it somewhere else?”
He nodded slowly working on his plate of food. "Ay, it's already down there. I had begun working them before you arrived, but the soil was still slightly frozen. Hopefully the rainstorm and sun had thawed it a wee bit."
It wasn't long before the Male Mer had finished his breakfast and had dumped the plate and utensils into the sink tub. Grabbing a canteen of water and his broadsword he moved for the door. Pulling it open a warm wind blew through the opening and filled the small living space. He let out a low chuckle taking a bit of cloth tying it around his forehead and pushing back his long hair before he slung the sword and water over his broad shoulders and heading out.
Arayna was quick to finish her breakfast, thankful to know that he didn't intend for them to plow it with the strength of their own shoulders, but she hadn't put it past him. Depositing her plate and utensils, she hurried to catch up, giving little heed to being unarmed. She was not use to having to worry about such things, after all… her magic had never failed her before.
Hurrying out the door behind him, she paused as the subtle wind swirled around her, taking a deep breath of it before moving forward. How had she missed the understated beauty of it before? How had she been so willfully blind to the freshness of it?
Out here, there were no courtly expectations, no stifling rules governing propriety. Just… being, making use of what you had and adapting to unexpected change. Yes, there were still rules governing this new sense of freedom, but for the first time in her two hundred seventy-five years, Arayna finally felt like she had a say in her future, even if it was a small say.
Keeping an easy gait the He-Elf led the way to the field in question. Along the way he picked up the shovels, picks, hoes and Grim. Soon the group arrived and much to Volare's relief the half tilled fields hadn't been flooded and it looks mostly thawed out.
He let out a pleased chuckle and stabbed the tools into the soft ground before he went about connecting the heavy metal plow to Grim. As he worked he nodded to Arayna point at the already plowed rows. "I'll make the new rows. You can take the tools and clean up the parts I already set. Just make sure there are no heavy rocks, weeds, and that the mounds are even and straight. It can easily be done with the tools there." He gave her a smile and once the plow was set he clicked his tongue and began clearing the rest of the chosen plot.
Arayna took the gloves from her waistband and pulled them on as she watched Volare hitch Grim to the plow. She then looked at the tools stuck in the ground, shaking her head. She had never needed to use any tools before herself, but they looked easy enough to figure out. Taking up a hoe, she got to work on the furrowed earth.
Her motions were slow and a bit clumsy, but she was at it with little complaint. Stooping here to pull at a weed, digging a bit there to unearth a rock and toss it away, she let her thoughts wonder a bit as she tended to her chore. Every so often, her eyes would glance up to watch Volare and Grimm as they passed, looking away with a wry smile whenever she was caught staring.
The snap of a twig caught her ear as she worked to remove another rock. Turning, she eyed the treeline carefully for a moment before shrugging it off and continuing her task, it could've been anything really.
Volare heard the twig snap and stopped his plow studying the treeline more closely. Out here sounds like that should always be investigated at least a little bit. Jabbing the plow blade into the soft ground to anchor his horse's movements he moved cautiously forward.
After his first bandit attack here he was sure to cut down and burn the ground around his land for a around twenty feet in every direction so as to minimize the chance of someone sneaking up on him but beyond the growth was a huge old forest very dark and full of thick brush, but he'd been good about keeping up on the growth near his farm. But it was back-breaking work so he had been pushing it off this year. The ground was very fertile so a fine layer of ferns and small trees had popped up, not enough to hide a huge force but one or two men could get close.
Drawing his sword he was about to shout into the forest when a huge gray wolf pounced out of the forest and charged him. He reacted and caught the beast mid jump cleaving it's head, but his blade stuck fast in the heavy canine so when the rest of the pack came rushing from the trees he was caught in the first attack the large animal knocking him back and away from his sword. Grabbing the beast's jaws he held it's teeth from his throat even as the wolf's claws were racking at and destroying his shirt. "ARA!" Was all he could shout as the rest of the wolves charged the fence.
Hearing his shout, Arayna jumped to standing and helplessly watched as Volare struggled with the large wolf. Her heart pounded as she caught sight of the other grey masses rushing toward the fence. If they were to reach him, it would be over for both elves. With a reverberating shout of arcane words, she threw forward her right hand and in a split second the nearest section of fence that marked the border burst into a wall of flames that forced the rest of the pack back with barking whimpers before they too could set on her ward.
Her eyes grew dark as she then stretched her left hand toward the freshly dispatched wolf and uttered her next spell. The corpse jerked and twitched to reanimated life and stood, its eyes glowing a sickly green as it turned its cleaved head and gave an otherworldly snarl, still carrying the broadsword imbedded in its skull as it charged. With unnatural speed, it collided with the attacking wolf and set its snapping jaws to ripping the living animal open.
Though she was easily counted among the strongest of the Snow Mages, casting and holding both spells was taxing on her without the aid of a pooling stone. Snow Elves were one of the few Elven races that weren’t acutely in tune with the flow of magic and, because of this, found it more difficult than their other Elf-kin to hold and channel magic on their own overlong. There were good reasons most higher Snow Mages were always seen wearing at least one article of gemmed jewelry. Pooling stones allowed the mages to build up an excess of magica inside in order to draw from them when necessary.
Grimm whinnied sharply as the rest of the wolves finally skirted the flames and decided to go after an easier to reach target. Her concentration broke as she turned her sights to the frightened animal fervently pulling at the plow. As soon as her focus was gone, the zombie wolf collapsed in a heap of green smoldering ash, finally freeing Volare’s sword. Drawing on the remnants of her energy, she drew back to herself a balled portion of the fence’s fire and hurdled it toward two of the wolves closest to the horse, dispatching them in a roaring rush but inadvertently melting the plow’s connecting chains and spooking Grimm into flight.
Volare had rarely seen magic in action. He never liked it much and was glad Snow Elf mages were uncommon, but as he was staring down the rancid maw of a wolf and felt the surge of magic wash over his mind and the wolf trying to kill him was killed by the first wolf he killed.
Quickly rolling to his feet he grabbed his sword and charged back into the fray. There was only three wolves left. He let out a loud shrill whistle and with a loud whinny Grim came down from his frightful run and turned on two of the wolves chasing him. Fearlessly the great beast stampeded over the first wolf running quickly past the second one leading back to Volare who stabbed the wolf through it's mouth and down it's throat killing it. Upon seeing it's comrades killed so easily, the last wolf let out a final vicious snarl then ran back into the forest.
Volare let out a low sigh and pulled his sword out wiping the blood off with an old cloth from his back pocket. He then let out a low sigh and caught Grim calming the great beast looking over the destroyed plow and fence. "Guess this field will have to wait for another year. Thank you for that Arayna."
The elven woman stood at the ready to cast one final spell if it had been needed, but once the last ran back to the forest she broke her stance and moved to close the distance. Hearing his annoyed comment though, she stopped short.
“They could have killed you, you know. You and the horse both! ” She quipped, crossing her arms and giving him a soured look. “But since I can tell that you're thrilled that I didn't let them rip you both to shreds, you're welcome!”
She shook her head then, throwing up her hands in exasperation before moving to retrieve her tools. “At least fences and plows can be fixed, old Mer. Mortal wounds aren't easily mended, not even by me...”
Volare quirked his eyebrow. "I didn't mean to offend lass. Was simply stating a fact. Were you hurt?" He asked leading Grim back to the stables. Life and death has been made so commonplace to the old warrior he'd been toeing the line for years so surviving a wolf attack was just another day.
Grim was uninjured and Matron was only slighted agitated at all the noises. Aside from some blood on his hooves the old stallion was perfectly fine. He picked up a small cart and some gloves then began moving back to the dead wolves.