Scene #2753: AToF - The Hunt part 1

Owner	Pose
Medusa Gorgon	There is nothing familiar about this. It's cold, strange and eerie, without a single sense of comfort. Whatever this place is, it's been here for a long time. But still, however you found your way here is a mystery as well. No matter how hard you think, no memory comes to mind that would explain just why you are here. But here you are, in the middle of the night. In a deep, dark forest where the only light comes from the full moon above. The size of it is massive as it illuminates the eerie landscape, making the mountains in the far off distance nearly shimmer with what might be magic. Because there is something supernatural about this place, that much anybody should know just from the feeling that tingles up their spine. Geralt should be able to notice it too as he wakes up. Gone is his equipment, even his radio. It's only him... and the night.
Geralt of Rivia	This is bad. Geralt turns left and right as he blinks away the last, desperately-clinging remnants of sleep. His swords, gone. Roach, missing. It's like someone has somehow managed to steal everything right off his back. But even with that in mind, where is he? And how did he get here? Geralt's not sure, and that's a worrying thought. He had only been in Velen just- and now... He doesn't need his medallion to know that something's deeply wrong though. He can feel it, crawling up his spine like dragon's fire. "Hello?" Geralt asks the night air, "Is anyone there?"
Medusa Gorgon	Nothing much can be seen besides the forest itself spanning the area, trees as old as time itself as they rise towards the sky. Moss grows on the stones here too, with wild mushrooms leeching off of the ancient trees. The place has an old, musky scent to it. And nobody responds to Geralt's call. However, suddenly there's a scent of something sweet carrying on the wind through the trees. And there is a faint sound further off into the forest. But where is the best route to go? Downhill closer to the scent, or uphill to attempt to get a better view of the area?
Geralt of Rivia	The scent is picked up easily enough, thanks to Geralt's superhuman Witcher senses, even over the dank smell of the rest of the surrounds. With one glance up the hill and one downwards, Geralt comes to his decision - it's better to go downhill, into the trees. If he's unarmed and in an unknown place, the tree cover is far more safe than exposing himself atop the hill. And so, Geralt advances towards the sweet scent with the deft footsteps of a cat on the prowl.
Medusa Gorgon	It's relatively easy to go downhill, Geralt will notice. Thanks to the moonlight shining through the foliage it's enough to notice roots and rocks in his path, as long as he doesn't go into the deeper parts of the forest. It is a rather long way to go however. Minutes pass, and soon enough it surely must have been one hour of downward slopes. And throughout this trek... the forest remains quiet. There is not a single owl to be heard, no crickets... and no wildlife. The forest itself seems lush enough and should be brimming with animals. Just where are they? The scent becomes stronger to the point where it becomes harder to track it. But finally Geralt arrives in a grove with old twisted trees. One tree in particular stands taller than the others. The silence in the forest however is no longer as a loud howl echoes throughout the forest, coming from somewhere above.
Geralt of Rivia	Sniff. Sniff-sniff. He's getting close. A normal man might have issue with the roots and rocks and uneven ground, but Geralt's an experienced woodsman and a Witcher beyond that. His eyes and ears keep him safe. But that's what makes the lack of any sort of life even more perplexing. That is, of course, until he hears the howl. A wolf? Something else? Above him, yes, which means that the thing responsible has the advantage. Adrenaline surges through him, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up. He even reaches for his blade, finding nothing but air at his back. Standing out in the open like this won't help, but maybe he can lose the source of the noise in the grove. He slips deeper into the trees.
Medusa Gorgon	Whatever howled was large, that much is for certain. Much larger than a normal wolf. An ominous wind blows through the grove even as Gerald slips further in. The sweet scent is heavy in the air here, and the trees are nearly like a maze in itself. But alas, even in here there is the sound of something howling on the wind. And this time, it's closer. Up above, the sky is darkening.
Geralt of Rivia	Damn. That sweet stench is almost overpowering, now. But what is it? It's almost familiar, in a way, but Geralt can't place it. The trees are getting too thick to move in places, now, and so Geralt turns to look behind him, looking for that one taller tree, giving him some idea of navigation. The sky is darkening, the stars going out, the moon growing less radiant. This has to be a dream. It has to be. Or a nightmare.
Medusa Gorgon	A third time the howl resonates, this time close enough to send a chill through the bones of most people. Not only that... there are the sounds of something approaching from behind where Gerald was, as well as the sound of heavy breathing. Closer and closer it comes, as if it's moving faster and faster as this thing closes the distance between them. But behold... right in front of him! It's the tallest tree of the grove. Old, gnarly and twisted as it rises, a leader among its fellow trees as it seems almost impossibly wide around. Its roots are large, spreading out and surely large enough to hide under. The tree itself should be climbable as well though it might take a second to do so. Whatever Geralt decides, he better decide fast.
Geralt of Rivia	They say Witchers don't feel fear, but Geralt isn't so sure about that. Whatever it is, /something/ compels him to move quickly. He's already made his decision - hiding under the roots wouldn't be wise, there'd be nowhere to run if he was caught. If he climbs, he could maybe go from tree-to-tree. His hands, worn and calloused, reach out for the trunk and branchesof the old, gnarled tree and, like a cat, Geralt begins to climb. He's not sure he'll be fast enough.
Medusa Gorgon	Luckily the tree offers a person somewhere to place their hands and feet in a climb, and with his determination Geralt ascends the tree trunk, although he seems to have problems finding proper footing as he slips down slightly. And not a moment too soon. Something arrives in the dark of the night, and it is dark as night itself. A pair of beastly yellow eyes peer up at the Witcher as he climbs. A large, scruffy wolf with saliva dripping from its sharp teeth as they gleam. Its breathing is heavy as it advances with what seems like impossible speed... and it leaps towards Geralt just a scared shriek can be heard from above up in the tree.
Geralt of Rivia	Geralt's eyes are just as golden and, to many, just as beastly as the gleaming orbs in the wolf's head. Geralt glances down at it, catching sight of it as it leaps at him, and he lashes out with one foot, hoping to kick it right on the snout, hoping to give it a reason to find easier prey. He glances up then, towards the sound of that shriek. "Hold on!" Geralt calls, his voice gravelly. "I'm coming, don't be afraid!"
Medusa Gorgon	It seems that luck is taking another turn for Geralt as he's just not quick enough. The wolf bites down on his leg just as he's about to kick out at it, sharp teeth sinking into his flesh and tearing parts of it off. But the wolf must obey the laws of gravity as it falls back down, licking its muzzle even as its black fur is coated with red blood. Up above there's sobbing, and if Geralt continues his climb he should see it. Or rather, her. A lone girl up on a branch, staring down in horror at the scene before her. Her light hair is unkempt, hanging around her dirt smeared face, her dress nearly tatters as it hangs on.
Geralt of Rivia	Geralt shouts out as the wolf sinks its fangs into his leg, stripping flesh in a one-two punch as it bites him and falls away. The pain is a bright lance up his leg and he'll earn yet more scars from it, but the pain lets him know he's still alive. "Son of a..." Geralt murmurs, and he focuses on continuing the climb. Witchers are tough but a fall from this height could be deadly, particularly if that wolf keeps skulking around. Geralt pulls himself over another branch and sets his golden cat-eyes on the girl. "Hey," he says, as soft as he can manage, "It's okay. The wolf's gone now. How'd you get up here?"
Medusa Gorgon	Down below the wolf snarls as it begins circling the tree, peering up at Geralt with hungry eyes. The wind is howling even more fiercely now as the man climbs higher and higher. Even with the pain in his leg the tree still isn't too bad to climb, and soon he gets to the expanding branches, making it easier. The girl whimpers up ahead, the wind tugging at her hair as she clings to the trunk, pure horror in her green eyes. Her breath is quick, shallow, and she's shaking her head as Geralt pulls himself up on the branch. "... n-no..." Her voice is quiet, meek. Until she screams at the top of her voice and kicks out at him, hitting him right in the face. "NO!" It seems to pass by so slowly as the girl becomes more and more distant as she clings to the branch, staring down in horror at Geralt as he falls from the tree. Up above the moon casts a powerful silhouette around her as it shines down past the leaves in the wind. Noise is the best way to describe the air as it rushes past the Witcher's ears, though that is not the dominant sound for long. Below there's another howl, and as he plummets Geralt knocks the top of another tree, turning him midair as he sees the ground coming closer. Not to mention a maw of sharp, gleaming teeth as well as a pair of intense, yellow eyes. Breathing is so much harder when you gasp for breath, lungs starved and heart hammering rapidly in your chest. But the pain is gone when Geralt wakes up wherever he went to sleep. Gone is the forest and the monsterous wolf. Though the imagery is still fresh within his mind.
Geralt of Rivia	Maybe it's the kick, maybe it's the blood loss, maybe it's the simple fact that one foot is slick with blood. Maybe it's the shock of recognition that causes his hands to loosen their grip. Green eyes, light hair- it can't be. Geralt falls, his mind blank, the tree stretching up towards the heavens above him, and not even the hungry maw of the waiting wolf seems thad bad now. "NO!" Geralt comes too in the woods of Velen, white hair matted with sweat, chest rising and falling with a heavy, uneven tempo. It takes him a moment to get his bearings, climbing to his feet, sword in hand. But there's no wolf, no tree, and no pale-haired girl. Only him.