Another quiet and warm day in the Trollshaws, the sun shining through the green canopy and down onto a large opening where boars roam. Young boars, tusks barely the size of a carrot. Older boars, tusks as long and as pointed as sword. Each doing the same, producing snorting noises as they snuffle about in the mud in search of a nest and a mouthful of eggs.
One of the larger boars, with silver coming into its brown earthy coat lifts his head up and sniffs the air.. before long a squeal sounds from its mouth, and joining with it a horn is blown from underneath the canopy! Bursting out from the bushes comes the wildmen, dressed in furs and earthy leathers. A crude javelin being pulled backwards before he lets it soar through the air into the boars rump, though it is not enough alone to take down this large thing!
Another few snorts and squeals before all the boars take off in unison, hooves battering the ground as if an army of horse men were riding at once! Pren soon gave chase, a spear now finding its way into his hands as he storms after the already injured boar. The air flowing from his lungs and back in like bellows at a forge as he chases after, his furs flowing behind him as he pulls the spear back and gets ready.
The boar staggers after the group with great speed, the others dividing off into the forest and soon out of sight apart from the one large one.. in its last moments it decides to turn and face the wildman, snorting out “smoke” from its nose as it eyed up the hill man. Stomping its injured foot on the ground it charges forth with its head down, the swords sticking from its mouth pointing outwards!
Pren slides to the side and as he does so he thrusts the spear forwards, straight into the boars side! He then tears it out, the boar squealing and nearly toppling itself over though it stays kicking! Swinging its head to the side like a hammer, bringing it upon Pren's legs and sending him to the ground.
The silver coated boar charges, tusks outwards towards the downed wildman.. though a quick move of a spear means that he charged himself onto his own death! Panting from the dying boar as well as the wildman as he sits there.. looking upwards towards a bridge.. a fallen log.. an exit.
