Log file from Cutter.

3/31/2000 9:35:55 PM

Title: Snapped Traps at the Silver Run River

Characters: Bramble, Basalt, and Cutter

Synopsis: Bramble and Cutter stumble upon Basalt along the banks of the Silver 
Run River.




Bramble slips quietly in between the trees as she makes her way towards the 
river. Even in winter, hunting is thirsty work. But she frowns and stops near 
the edge of the tree line. This is unexpected.

Along the frost-lined river, a peculiar structure has been erected. A knowing 
eye would think of the Sun Folks' tents, though surely those aren't so - shaggy. 
Long boughs and skins have been stitched into a three-sided tent, inside which a 
small fire glimmers. Neatly joined racks stand 'round the fire: some are empty, 
others bear the stretched pelts of ravvits and other small game. A squat figure 
sits on a stool beside the fire, skinning another ravvit with absent-minded 
skill.

Grey eyes take in the scene quickly and seeing no signs of anyone of the than 
the single troll, she steps out boldly. Her stance is not hostile, but a bit 
wary, "What are you doing, troll?"

Basalt looks up and down the bank to where Bramble stands. "And a fair day to 
you," he says sardonically.

The lonely stump of one of the great trees rests, stately and dead, among the 
lush shade of its living peers. Angled from two sides to a peak just off of 
center, the tree was apparently hewn by axe.

Bramble smirks slightly, acknowledging the cut, She replys just a little too 
sweetly "Oh I'm so sorry if I forgot my manners. Good day to you." She contines 
to walk up the bank towards Basalt. "So, what is it that you were doing again?"

Basalt nods toward the stretched pelts, meat roasting over the fire. "Food and 
fur, elf: they fetch a fair price Below."

The scent of woodsmoke and burning meat catches Cutter's attention as he hunts 
near the river. Moving cautiously, he closes in on the clearing and slips up to 
peer from beneath the sparse underbrush at the scene therein.

Bramble raises an eyebrow, "It isn't often that a troll comes up to actually 
collect them himself. You look like you're quite settled in. If this where my 
tribe's hunting lands, our chief wouldn't suffer a trolls infringement, assuming 
the hunters didn't deal with it themselves."

Mm, something as you move through the brush. The traces of troll-scent are faint 
- he's bright enough to crush strong-smelling herbs in his hands to mask them 
when he lays them out. In the brush you spot at least two small snares, 
differing from elfin models only in being of redmetal wire rather than thin 
leather thongs. Looks like a trapline for small game, not even big enough for 
the foot of an elf or troll. A dab of jam provides simple bait.

Basalt sniffs. "The local King - uh, 'chief' - is more understanding," he says, 
little knowing said chief is practically on top of him.

Bramble hmms, smiling a bit to herself, "And he knows that you're here?"

Basalt senses "Cutter picks his way around the first couple of traps before 
Bearclaw and Mantricker's blood begins to get the better of him. A wry grin 
comes to his face as he finds a long stick and sets off a trap."

Cutter watches from the underbrush before he finds himself distracted by an odd 
scent that he moves to investigate.. oooh traps.. heh.

Basalt shrugs apathetically. "Possibly. Your people have good ears and swift 
feet. In winter, though -" A snapping click-sound interrupts him. "Pardon me. 
Seems another coon or squirrel's fallen to my snares." He stands. "Help yourself 
to what's cooking. If cooked meat's to your liking. If not, I'll have some raw 
in a moment." He stumps off toward the shrubbery.

Bramble indeed does have sharp ears, and a sharp nose, and has Basalt heads off 
to check his trap, she starts giggling, she starts to comment on the likely hood 
of Basalt finding something edible in his trap, but it doesn't come out very 
coherntly through her giggling.

Cutter plops down beside the trap he just sprang and jabs a stick into a second 
one while he waits for the troll to lumber over. A wide grin, that would rival 
Skywise's impish expression spreads across his features. A second click-sound is 
heard and the grin gets all the wider for it.

Basalt pauses, mutters, shrugs, and continues toward the first snare-trap. He 
frowns, finding it unoccupied. Then he shrugs and moves toward the second snare 
to be sprung, not bothering to re-set the first just yet.

Bramble coughs a bit as she trys to get her giggling under control, pressing the 
back of her hand against her mouth. "I think if I want something to eat, I might 
have to catch it myself." She wanders in the direction of the first trap, her 
giggles still not entirely undercontrol.

Basalt gives Bramble a contemptuous look. "You people," he huffs. Odd. Nothing 
in the second trap, either. "Hold on," he mutters in his beard...

Cutter is, of course, waiting at the third trap which suspiciously chooses this 
moment to go off..

Bramble thumps down on the ground, as her giggles escalate into full-blown 
laughter. "You should know by now that strange things happen in a forest with 
elves."

Basalt straightens. As the third snap reaches his ears, he snorts. "Typical," he 
says. "Orright you little vandals!" he calls into the woods. "You don't have to 
trip me traps all night. C'mon out an' join the party, I've a fire and enough 
food to share 'round."

Cutter stands to his full height, which is quite impressive these days, and pads 
out of the underbrush from the direction of the third trap idly rolling his trap 
tripping stick between his fingers. When he appears from the shadows, the 
wolfchief's grin only grows that much brighter as he greets Basalt, "Gave up 
fishing, I see.." he says with a bright spark of amusement in his voice as he 
looks the troll squarely in the eye.

Basalt takes in Cutter for a moment and bows to him - a formal gesture alien to 
the elves, of course. "His Nibs," he says. "Aye, the fishing was -" he pauses 
with a sour smile "- not so good as it seemed." Whereas his attitude toward 
Bramble was one of good-natured contempt, Cutter seems to merit deference.

The bow's not so alien to the Kinseeker as he's been around trolls a few times 
in his life. He chuckles at Basalt and nods, "You can't have all of our game," 
he says and trips another trap for emphasis as he glances toward the campsite. 
"I think you have plenty for this trip, don't you?" he asks letting it be known 
that he saw the racks full of meat and hides.

Bramble pushes herself up to her feet, brushing her leathers off. She stays 
quiet now that Cutter seems to be in chief mode, this is his territory after 
all.

Basalt nods. "Your word is law, of course," he says. "Would you like a bit o' 
meat? Some I cook, some I smoke: a nice change, Below, from fish and mushrooms."

Cutter glances in the direction of the clearing again as if considering, then 
shakes his head, "We've got plenty in the holt for now," he replies with only a 
slight wrinkling of his nose at the thought of cooked meat. He glances toward 
Bramble and a quick flash of recognition can be seen in his eyes, "What brings 
you back to LostHolt, sister?" he asks with no small amount of curiosity in his 
voice.

Bramble wrinkles her nose a bit at the thought of all that meat ruined. :) She 
shakes her head at the thought, and then turns to answer Cutter. "I was hunting 
near here, and came to the river to fill up my waterskins, and maybe have some 
fish for a change of pace. And then I met your troll friend here. You better be 
careful, we let one stay near us for a while one, and he didn't leave for 
turns."

Basalt snorts. "No fears there! Catch me living without a roof, not likely."

Cutter smirks and jabs a thumb in Basalt's direction, "He doesn't like us /that/ 
well, either," he adds for the troll hunter. Merriment flashes in his cerulean 
eyes nice to see that he can still find laughter even though half the holt's out 
looking for his son.

Bramble chuckles, "Yeah, well, Wile-Eye wasn't an average troll. I wonder what 
ever happened to that old buzzard." The last part is audible but she is speaking 
mostly to herself. The volume of her voice rises as she address Cutter again, "I 
was planning on stopping by, since I was in the neighberhood. Make sure 
everybody returned from underground safely."

Basalt moves down the river a ways to take down the two snares Cutter hadn't 
gotten to yet, out of easy conversational range but within view.

Cutter nods in Bramble's direction but, his attention shifts slightly as if he 
sends to someone unseen. A moment later, his attention shifts back, "You're 
welcome to stay in the holt, Bramble," he says as the sound of running paws 
greets the ears of those gathered. Rainrunner, Cutter's bond comes barreling 
into the clearing acting much like a cub in his first whitecold. As he draws 
near the wolfchief, Rainrunner slams on the brakes and goes skidding toward 
Cutter.

Basalt returns from down the shore, a couple of ruddy metal wires dangling from 
one wrist, and pulls his roast beast off the fire to cool a bit. He adjusts the 
bonds on a couple of the stretched pelts, working nimbly despite thick fingers. 
"Well, your highness, you coming or going? I wouldn't say no to the latest news 
from Above if you're not in a rush - eesh." He shrinks back to within the tent 
when the wolf arrives.

Bramble nods her head, "Thanks for the hospitality." She chuckles at the method 
of the wolf's arrival. Her wolfbond goes about in that manner all the time.

Cutter sidesteps Rainrunner's effort to bowl him over and shakes his head at the 
exuberant wolf before glancing in Basalt's direction, "I don't have anything to 
do just now.. Maybe you want to share some information from Below with me?" he 
suggests with a wink in Bramble's direction before he heads after the troll, 
Rainrunner in tow. **Care to join us? If not, I'll let Leetah know you're 
coming.** he sends to Bramble as he casts a grin over his shoulder in her 
direction.

Basalt says, "Little enough to relate. The King is still in the North, probably 
fighting whatever warriors are still after the remains of the kingdom," he says.

Bramble shrugs and decides to follow along, Her curiosity knows no bounds, if 
anybody's sharing information she wants to hear it. ** Its been a while since I 
chatted with a troll, should be interesting. **