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[b][u]POV:[/u] Grifor Lathil // Lathilos
[sub]Dhadan Forest, County of Dunric[/sub][/b]

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“Delios! It’s an r—”

The older orderling was honestly a bit surprised— in the last two years he had known Jacques he had seen a cynical, bloodthirsty, inane, and vicious man but he had never seen him be this insufferably [i]stupid[/i]. It was clear that Marlowe’s attack that very well might have costed him his left eye was something that would’ve caused many to be driven to adrenaline-pounding rage but this… this was on a whole new level. The smaller man had dashed into the woods as soon as the naïve boy had baited him and even his own warning had done absolute nothing to stop his insistence on rushing headfirst into danger. Danger that he personally believed was a ruse. Marlowe was a fool, but he wasn’t [i]inept[/i] and despite all of their differences respected the lengths he would go in battle to achieve his own personal victory. Had they known each other at different circumstances he could see himself admiring his tenacity rather than finding it annoying.

It was always amusing how things turned out.

But chasing after Jacques was not his intention. He had wasted too much time to babysit a grown ass man and if he wasn’t willing to follow orders he was more than willing to let Marlowe kill him. He shook his head as he turned toward the direction of the tracks leading out of the forest appeared to be taking.

	[i]No rest for the wicked.[/i]

He picked up the pace. It was time to get moving.

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[b][u]POV:[/u] Jacques Deli // Delios
[sub]Dhadan Forest, County of Dunric[/sub][/b]

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With rifle in hand, Jacques dashed through the shrubbery of the woodlands towards the directions of his target— his [i]hunt[/i]. He knew the “old man” wanted to get on with the mission, but blood had been spilled and it [i]needed[/i] to be returned in kind. There were no conclusions to be made elsewise and if his partner really wanted to capture the freak with mind powers then he could do it with the new girl and leave him to brutalize Marlowe. He didn’t care as long as he got what he [i]wanted[/i].

However, he didn’t expect to be confronted with the sight of three vharn’s coming at him with the same intensity he had for Marlowe— and like a deer caught in the path of a winding train his brain stopped for a second as he caught the sight of a blood-smeared tree to his right. He had ran right into harm’s way… right into Marlowe’s [i]trap[/i]. How could such an imbecile be capable of thinking like a hunter? Jacques gritted his teeth as he dug his feet into the ground before he jumped onto the back of the first vharl; stomping into the creature's spine as he did so causing it to howl in annoyed pain.

This wasn’t his first rodeo and if he had not been so infuriated he would’ve been [i]flattered[/i] that Marlowe setup a trap that was so [i]nostalgic[/i]. He remembered how he had been raised and trained northeast of Dunral in the Noirdeces Forest, right past the border that stretched into the mountainous highlands of Srivakia where the creatures of the bog mingled with the creatures of the hills. It brought him back to his father’s contest to him— that either he died like an animal or he survived like a [i]hunter[/i]. A contest that his father had brought to each of his children: survive alone in the stretch of wilderness with nothing but your wits and your gear for thirty days. No outside help. No quitting. Do or die. 

Three vharl’s? Please. He survived a [i]wyvern nest[/i] when he was [i]twelve[/i]. This was going to be like walking in the park.

[b]“You didn’t think it would be that easy did you?!”[/b] He snarled before he flicked the trigger of his rifle. 

He wasn’t done. He refused to be done. He clicked the trigger again before leaping off the back of the creature and grabbing onto a low-hanging branch of a nearby tree with his right arm before making up the tree and turning to aim at the creatures that were charging the tree. 

The same blood-stained tree that Marlowe had marked.