05-29-2015, 09:51 AM
(Shortly after the encounter with Neal...)
For the first time yet in this contest, Jon had killed a man, and the very thought of it still loomed at the back of his mind now as he trudged through the dense, damp forest, his own concuss now biting at him in a certain light.
Jon hadn't got a good glimpse of the man before he'd shot him down - he wasn't really able to, in fact. The hat he wore as well as the long coat masked his features incredulously, and he'd had his back turned to him during most of the fight. Jon could tell he was young, though. Not too young, but about his age, the bastard predicted. He'd pleaded with Gilgamesh to leave the lad be and try and slip past him unnoticed, but the King of the Sands wouldn't stop to hear it; he was charging right for him with a limping Blackfire in tow before Snow even had a chance to finish. With no other choice, the bastard set himself up on a curved slope of a hill, and procrastinated right up until the time was right to take fire.
One arrow pierced through the boys lunged, then his head, and in an instant it was all over.
Jon sighed. How many more people would he have to kill? When would it all end. He felt a longing to survive and keep going, as well as protect his friends and those he felt as though he could trust, but how could he do that without killing and getting his hands bloodied? Snow could find no moral line or compromise for himself, and it left him stuck very much in the middle of things.
Jon kept his bow slugged under his arm as he walked. King Gilgamesh had ordered him forward on his own to scout ahead a little bit, to make sure the path was completely clear of threats and other contenders. He kept walking, navigating through the maze of long trees and green bushes, until he paused, a rotten stench hitting his senses.
The smell of... death?
Jon moved up some more until he reached a clearing; a parting in the woods form. He began to draw an arrow from the quiver at his back as he stepped out from the foliage, eyes narrowing as he caught quite the gruesome scene splayed before his eyes.
A wild stag layed limp and dead on it's side, it's tongue rolling out from it's maw. An adolescent-looking wolf pup was making a feast out of it's withering remains, having worked it's teeth quite the way through the stags belly, and into it's flesh. Jon took some steps closer toward the animal, a look of disgust present on his features, and as he did the pup's ears twitched, and it spun around to gnawed, canine teeth, blood and bits present around it's mouth where it'd been eating away at the dead stag.
It growled lowly. Though not as huge or lumbering as Ghost or any other direwolf, the pup was still moderately sized enough to be a danger - large enough to pounce him and perhaps do some injury. It's growling on heightened as it skulked closer and closer toward Jon, it's paws dipping and head bobbing slightly as it prowled for it's newly found prey.
Jon took some steps backward, slowly raising his arm as he knocked the arrow he was holding into the bows quiver. Pulling back onto the strings, Jon brought the bow up to about his shoulder level, keeping the bows visor tilted slightly to the ground as he loosely let fire.
Chinkkt!
The arrowhead stabbed into the muddy ground near the wolf, and the pup whimpered and reared with fear and surprise, turning around it dashed away from the shooter. Jon lowered the bow back to be under his arm as he watched the wolf flee from sight and vision, stepping forward where the stag carcass was splayed.
He reached down to pick the arrow from the ground, first, planting it back into his quiver for later re-use. Jon doubted he'd need it again, and he'd always have some fresh arrows to fire whenever he needed it. Caution never hurt, though, and he didn't WANT that to be his ultimate downfall. As he stood back up, he took once glance at the carcass. A gaping hole sat where the wolf pup he chewed through him, even making it through the bone structure and the ribcage. Gross..
Jon shot one look around the area to make sure everything was clear, and with a nod, he turned back on his heel, moving off to where he'd left Gilgamesh and Blackfire. He didn't want to be away from them for too long; he was much vulnerable without allies, here, and it was easy for anyone to get the drop on him when he least expected it.
That, and that fucking stench was starting to become a bit unbearable.
For the first time yet in this contest, Jon had killed a man, and the very thought of it still loomed at the back of his mind now as he trudged through the dense, damp forest, his own concuss now biting at him in a certain light.
Jon hadn't got a good glimpse of the man before he'd shot him down - he wasn't really able to, in fact. The hat he wore as well as the long coat masked his features incredulously, and he'd had his back turned to him during most of the fight. Jon could tell he was young, though. Not too young, but about his age, the bastard predicted. He'd pleaded with Gilgamesh to leave the lad be and try and slip past him unnoticed, but the King of the Sands wouldn't stop to hear it; he was charging right for him with a limping Blackfire in tow before Snow even had a chance to finish. With no other choice, the bastard set himself up on a curved slope of a hill, and procrastinated right up until the time was right to take fire.
One arrow pierced through the boys lunged, then his head, and in an instant it was all over.
Jon sighed. How many more people would he have to kill? When would it all end. He felt a longing to survive and keep going, as well as protect his friends and those he felt as though he could trust, but how could he do that without killing and getting his hands bloodied? Snow could find no moral line or compromise for himself, and it left him stuck very much in the middle of things.
Jon kept his bow slugged under his arm as he walked. King Gilgamesh had ordered him forward on his own to scout ahead a little bit, to make sure the path was completely clear of threats and other contenders. He kept walking, navigating through the maze of long trees and green bushes, until he paused, a rotten stench hitting his senses.
The smell of... death?
Jon moved up some more until he reached a clearing; a parting in the woods form. He began to draw an arrow from the quiver at his back as he stepped out from the foliage, eyes narrowing as he caught quite the gruesome scene splayed before his eyes.
A wild stag layed limp and dead on it's side, it's tongue rolling out from it's maw. An adolescent-looking wolf pup was making a feast out of it's withering remains, having worked it's teeth quite the way through the stags belly, and into it's flesh. Jon took some steps closer toward the animal, a look of disgust present on his features, and as he did the pup's ears twitched, and it spun around to gnawed, canine teeth, blood and bits present around it's mouth where it'd been eating away at the dead stag.
It growled lowly. Though not as huge or lumbering as Ghost or any other direwolf, the pup was still moderately sized enough to be a danger - large enough to pounce him and perhaps do some injury. It's growling on heightened as it skulked closer and closer toward Jon, it's paws dipping and head bobbing slightly as it prowled for it's newly found prey.
Jon took some steps backward, slowly raising his arm as he knocked the arrow he was holding into the bows quiver. Pulling back onto the strings, Jon brought the bow up to about his shoulder level, keeping the bows visor tilted slightly to the ground as he loosely let fire.
Chinkkt!
The arrowhead stabbed into the muddy ground near the wolf, and the pup whimpered and reared with fear and surprise, turning around it dashed away from the shooter. Jon lowered the bow back to be under his arm as he watched the wolf flee from sight and vision, stepping forward where the stag carcass was splayed.
He reached down to pick the arrow from the ground, first, planting it back into his quiver for later re-use. Jon doubted he'd need it again, and he'd always have some fresh arrows to fire whenever he needed it. Caution never hurt, though, and he didn't WANT that to be his ultimate downfall. As he stood back up, he took once glance at the carcass. A gaping hole sat where the wolf pup he chewed through him, even making it through the bone structure and the ribcage. Gross..
Jon shot one look around the area to make sure everything was clear, and with a nod, he turned back on his heel, moving off to where he'd left Gilgamesh and Blackfire. He didn't want to be away from them for too long; he was much vulnerable without allies, here, and it was easy for anyone to get the drop on him when he least expected it.
That, and that fucking stench was starting to become a bit unbearable.
![[Image: tumblr_nzzfidB5IX1tcnpluo4_1280.png]](http://68.media.tumblr.com/bceb0feb3876c0a578aebfda0bc7b306/tumblr_nzzfidB5IX1tcnpluo4_1280.png)