Morning's light found Ulric sprawled flat in the snow, its refrozen surface slick and smooth. His hands he kept tucked within their sleeves to retain the full feeling in them and Xef'tocht was laid across his forearms within easy reach and to keep the hilt free of the snow.
He lay still, as he had lain for the last hour, barely seeming to breathe. He had worried for the color of his cloak but his partner had assured him that their prey was entirely color blind. So long as he remained unmoving, they would not detect him flat against the plains, whose slight drifts produced shades similar to what he would appear in their peripheral vision.
The bull ox snorted as it rooted into the receding snow pack, stomping through layers of ice to reach the last remnants of the previous year's growth. An almost delicate nibble of its enormous muzzle, a brief chew while looking here and there, and the beast moved its great bulk to repeat the process. Over and over Ulric had watched this routine and he could smell the heavy odor of the [Direhorn Ox] from his position only three meters away. Taipan's predictions had come to fruition, she had examined the lay of the land, the patterns of the snow and come up with this as the likely path the herd would follow.
The rest of the creatures had already moved on, this seasoned and grizzled bull was the last of his group, taking up the position of the rear guard, his harem of cows safely guarded by his replacement up at the front. Old age is a bitch like that in nature.
Ulric was ready. His whole body tingled with anticipation. It had been far too long since he'd hunted and adrenaline sang alongside the spiraling hum of Ceraun in his core. The ox lowered its head and the Reforged man sprang up, sword in hand.
Drawing inspiration from an enemy defeated, his body pulsed with lightning consumed to become charged with its energy.
[Surge]
He leapt high three meters in a great arc with his blade in a double handed grip over his shoulder, wind whistling through his hair, and the cold stinging wonderfully against his face as he descended on his prey.
Ceraun poured from his core into his sword and he felt its energies guided into place by an unseen hand, a knowledge or perhaps an instinct, imbued by the connection of his path to those who had walked it already in antiquity, their feelings, their experiences, their beings having been recorded against the imprint of this mana ridden world.
His Ohmic Knight class imparted him with the guidance to strike at the moment he needed to, in the manner he envisioned.
[Crackling Draw]
Concentrating with singular purpose, Ulric heaved both with body and mind, and his blade flared crackling purple bolts along its surface as it swept a great half circle, the artistry of its making combined with the power of the man who drove it, and assisted by the blitz of power that channeled into the metal permitted the edge to pass cleanly through the thick neck of the aged bull ox. Ulric’s class infused stroke ripped electrical power through the space cloven by his blade, like an arcing afterimage of the sword.
His legs bent absorbing the impact of his fall and he released his [Surge] as the follow through of his cut brought the sword level with the ground, hilt behind his hip and one hand free to loose a bolt of lightning if needed. The head of the beast thudded heavily into the snow and the rest of it collapsed, strings cut, the kill perfect. Or…almost. He felt a twinge for a moment, a sensation of the stepping off the shallow end of the pool into deeper waters. The whisper that he could go farther faded as quickly as it came.
Ulric released the breath he'd held as he struck slowly. He felt jubilant, that odd cognitive artifact just then aside. There was a purity in the moment of taking your prey, in making it your own, claiming it from the world to become part of your life. This was a clean death, absent the taint of ulterior motive that had prevented him from enjoying the deaths of his enemies before. For a moment he shared the joy known by the predators in all their shapes and sizes around the world. Then it was gone and he drew his knife to attend the business of honoring the old bull by using it correctly.
His knife slid from the clean cut of its neck down the chest, held at an angle to avoid rupturing the innards all the way to the bung which he cut out smoothly. From there he popped the gut into its opened cavity and swiftly drew out the organs from the cavernous abdomen. Gore steamed in the golden light of the morning, but no scent of foulness accompanied it, the bowel was intact. Smiling, Ulric stabbed his knife into beast and cut away its diaphram before planting the blade into the snow and reached half his body into the animal to extract the lungs and heart.
Heart, liver, kidneys, these were all to join the meat for eating.
Next, he had to carry out the task of skinning this unit of an animal. The [Direhorn Ox] probably massed fifty kilos more than a big old bull moose, which put it somewhere in the two thousand kilo range. It would be substantially lighter once they'd dried and smoked all the meat and most of the bones would not be useful, Taipan had been specific as to which held value and which did not. What they didn't use, the carrion birds and scavengers would take, nothing would be wasted.
He had the creature half "undressed" when his Shadow strode up, her silent step only given away because she knew to allow herself to make noise when she approached, or risk a fight or flight response, which was unwise when the startled person might throw lightning and fire.
"It was a good kill, Ulric, the beast was slain before it could feel any pain at all. Even my arrow through its heart would not have taken it so peacefully." She praised.
This had been her idea, to go out with her to hunt and also to practice the use of his skills. He had to admit, the lady knew her business. There just wasn't a way to practice lethal arts without the intent to destroy your target. Anything held back, for fear of harming your sparring partner, made it never the same as real combat. In a fight, every attack had to be a killing one, even a feint had to carry the intent to slay or it would never deceive an experienced opponent. Idra'se moved the same, whether he was administering a disciplinary flick of a rod or a swipe of a blade that would cut to the bone. It put a rather sharp edge on his "reminders" to attend one's training with heart. But it served the purpose of not dulling his mind's eye with motions that were not true.
Ulric continued to skin the ox as he considered what he'd learned from this exercise. When he'd fought with the Ogran cartel leader he'd poured his mana into his sword as a reflex, an intuitive action based on the words of the weapon's creator. The skin of the brute had been far tougher than anything he'd fought, it was nearly comparable to the defensive layer of the [Shrieking Ravager] whose fur had turned Taipan's arrows. His Ceraun was potently destructive and so he'd funneled it into the mana conductive blade to increase its ability to wound the tough Ogran. Successfully. And also, now that he'd experienced this skill, wastefully. The Ohmic Knight class skill had concentrated his energy, focused it, removed the slop, and he could appreciate its power when he saw the nearly two meter thick burly neck, bones and all, shorn as if by a guillotine.
If Ulric could impart that feeling of channeling his mana, he might be able to develop a more generally applicable way to amplify his sword strokes. The pulsing of his [Surge] was also proving to be absolutely the correct way to utilize that ability. Holding it for any length of time was an utter waste. Its true strength was in the sudden acceleration of his movements.
The leaping attack had proven itself as effective on the bull as it had been against him, it was a seriously bad idea to try to counter that kind of all out aggression, especially when the weapon used had reach. To do so put you in the position of trying to trade against the enemy's maximum power. Ulric's instinct to dodge away had been the correct one against that hammer user.
If he'd tried to parry, he felt certain now that his guard would have been crushed and nothing good could have followed. Against a ranged opponent as gifted as Taipan, it was of no use, of course, she would happily shoot such an enemy from the air. But in melee attacking from above was a good option if you willing to commit everything to the attack. No half measures though, that was asking for it.
What he hadn't figured out was how the hammer wolf had gotten faster as it moved through the air though. That had to have involved magic because Ulric was thoroughly aware of the rules for a body in flight and the first rule was that, absent external force, they just didn't speed up. Hammerwolf had most assuredly accelerated during his flight to greater momentum than with which he'd left the ground and that meant his own abilities had been at play. Something to figure out later, Ulric had finished skinning the ox.
Taipan joined him in quartering the animal, cutting away the ribs, drawing away the tenderloin, and she selected her choice cuts of cheeks, backstraps, and so on. These sections of meat and the bones they wanted were tossed onto the carefully peeled hide. Amongst the desired bones included the horns of the beast, sawn free by Taipan's concentrated use of her shadow blades. Ulric didn't know she could do that. The ends of the horns were very smooth, almost like they'd been sanded. Hmm…very interesting.
It took both of them to haul the massive hide sled back to their camp. Ulric declared there that this would mark the weight limit to their trade sled and Taipan agreed with him. More than this, and their journey would be slowed by the burden.
Fresh roasted beef was a revelation. Ulric had enjoyed a great many meats since his arrival on Varda. Most of them were some form of venison given that deer like animals roamed the forests freely and were not too onerous to catch. There was a somewhat diverse range of reptilian meats sprinkled in here and there, snakes, large aquatic lizards that were approximately crocodilian, that sort of thing. But, at no point, had there been a true analogue to beef. The hilly forests simply weren't grazing country.
Together, the traveling pair dug out a pit and buried the boned shoulders, roasts, and ribs to very slowly roast them by covering them in a thin layer of dead grass, followed by soil, and building a low fire on top of the pit. Ulric had suggested this as an alternative to smoking, which would prove tedious absent much in the way of wood and Taipan had confessed surprise that he knew of this method for preserving meat. He didn't gloat, it was a pretty obvious way to handle meat absent a smoker, but he was gladdened that some of the knowledge of his old world would find use in this one.
Farther and farther he was leaving that Engineer behind, keeping the useful bits of him and discarding the rest, sort of how he was processing the ox. That thought drew Ulric up to a pause for a moment before he laughed at himself. At least this old boy had gotten himself a harem and raised up a bunch of baby oxen. The man he'd been had died alone and absent any one in particular, elderly parents aside, to miss him. Truly, there was little to regret about leaving that life finished.
Speaking of finished, Ta Da! The Twins were high overhead and, other than the meat slow cooking underground, they were done with their hunt.
Ulric didn't worry too much about the beef being gamey, his blow to remove the head had pretty much guaranteed it bled out nicely, the forceful beats of that powerful heart breaking the cauterized seals across its large vessels before it stopped. It would be what it would be too, without a hoist, there was not a damned chance they ever could have drained a carcass so massive.
"So, what do you think?" Ulric picked his dark-skinned lover's brain.
"Hmm…I would give it an eight out of ten." She declared, borrowing his ubiquitous rating system.
"The airborne attack can catch an opponent off guard and does possess some merit for its power and aggressiveness, but it is fully committed. If an enemy is in possession of any ranged skill, magic, or weapon you make of yourself a fine target to be easily struck." Taipan concluded, matching some of Ulric's own realizations.
"There is also the problem in that this form of attack does not fully make use of your [Surge] whose best application should always be to change the angle and speed of your attack as close to the moment it hits home as possible. I was unprepared for how greatly it increased your power, in addition to the rapidity of movement. If it hurts as much as you say it does though then you must limit its use and be precise. I believe Idra'se has a similar ability but I have never noticed its activation, so smoothly does the Master integrate it within the flow of his Dance." the Huntress told him.
Mentally marking that advice down, Ulric would have to perhaps add using his ability during practice sessions. Those had been less frequent as they could have been since leaving Trachn'ir but there was only so much time in a day. On that topic…
"How to spend the rest of our day then?" Ulric asked, very content to spend it boiling down the bone marrow to make stock and calling it an afternoon.
They were both recovering quickly from the extended forced march but lingering tiredness, indicated that he should take it easy. If the magnificence of the Watcher's reforging on his form was breaking down under the strain, Ulric considered it a mark that they had been absolutely killing it making their way through the Lowlands forests to these plains. He was, more and more by the day, incredibly impressed by his Shadow's endurance. He might have been shouldering the majority of the weight of their supplies but his partner was an absolute specimen to have kept up with him. Paragon Aes'r-Iriel'en wasn't for fooling, Taipan was a credit to her species.
"This hunt will see our stock of meat and lard completely restored. I have been thinking to make a few extra bow strings, I note my own is starting to see some wear." said his Shadow, fingering her woven bowstring.
Ulric had made it long, long ago back in his glade from [Steelwood] bark fibers. Looking up, the woman actually looked abashed for a moment, hurriedly apologizing.
"Not that there is anything wrong with the string, Ulric, you did a fine job in its making!" She said waving her hands, her discomfit cute on her for its rarity.
"It is just that the bow pulls very stiffly and we have had occasion to see it used beyond what I would justify as normal. The cold and damp have also been very hard on it, in spite of my attempts to keep wax in place." apologized the Elf.
Ulric patted her calf comfortingly, "There's no apology needed, the fact that the string made it this long is pretty impressive. Do you think this ox will have tendons we can use to make a sinew string?"
Turning an appraising eye on the pile of bones and legs discarded she hummed to herself as she considered.
"Mayhap." She judged, noncommittal, "It is a terrible heavy draw."
That it was. Ulric had seen one of Bald'rt's royal guard struggle to pull it, failing in their initial attempt and having to brace themselves well to get it back. He hadn't considered that fact fully when he'd made it or when he'd given it to Taipan. When push come to shove Ulric was a strong bastard now.
It reminded him, he'd kind of like to replace his bow at some point, he was a fair shot with one and it kept his ranged options opened without requiring the use of his limited mana. Ceraun was a little wild, his core tended to overexert everything. Mana was even more a resource to be rationed now that his class skills were also drawing from his reserves. The thing about a battle mage was that they were potent as all hell when they had juice, but without it? Everything they did came to a grinding halt. Maybe they could trade for a stave somewhere.
He helped his sylvan wife to harvest the tendons out of the legs of their catch and she boiled them for a short while before beginning to fray the sinew into long fibers. Ulric helped with this as much as he could but, while he knew what to do, her fingers were simply leagues more adept at the process. Taipan had woven many a sinew string in her time. After a few hours of steady effort, they had assembled three credible candidates for replacement strings for Blinder, the name she had given so long ago to Ulric's gift. Those would have to dry before they could be waxed for preservation and tested to ensure they could hold up to the tension needed to draw Blinder to its fullest power.
Morning's light found Ulric sprawled flat in the snow, its refrozen surface slick and smooth. His hands he kept tucked within their sleeves to retain the full feeling in them and Xef'tocht was laid across his forearms within easy reach and to keep the hilt free of the snow.
He lay still, as he had lain for the last hour, barely seeming to breathe. He had worried for the color of his cloak but his partner had assured him that their prey was entirely color blind. So long as he remained unmoving, they would not detect him flat against the plains, whose slight drifts produced shades similar to what he would appear in their peripheral vision.
The bull ox snorted as it rooted into the receding snow pack, stomping through layers of ice to reach the last remnants of the previous year's growth. An almost delicate nibble of its enormous muzzle, a brief chew while looking here and there, and the beast moved its great bulk to repeat the process. Over and over Ulric had watched this routine and he could smell the heavy odor of the [Direhorn Ox] from his position only three meters away. Taipan's predictions had come to fruition, she had examined the lay of the land, the patterns of the snow and come up with this as the likely path the herd would follow.
The rest of the creatures had already moved on, this seasoned and grizzled bull was the last of his group, taking up the position of the rear guard, his harem of cows safely guarded by his replacement up at the front. Old age is a bitch like that in nature.
Ulric was ready. His whole body tingled with anticipation. It had been far too long since he'd hunted and adrenaline sang alongside the spiraling hum of Ceraun in his core. The ox lowered its head and the Reforged man sprang up, sword in hand.
Drawing inspiration from an enemy defeated, his body pulsed with lightning consumed to become charged with its energy.
[Surge]
He leapt high three meters in a great arc with his blade in a double handed grip over his shoulder, wind whistling through his hair, and the cold stinging wonderfully against his face as he descended on his prey.
Ceraun poured from his core into his sword and he felt its energies guided into place by an unseen hand, a knowledge or perhaps an instinct, imbued by the connection of his path to those who had walked it already in antiquity, their feelings, their experiences, their beings having been recorded against the imprint of this mana ridden world.
His Ohmic Knight class imparted him with the guidance to strike at the moment he needed to, in the manner he envisioned.
[Crackling Draw]
Concentrating with singular purpose, Ulric heaved both with body and mind, and his blade flared crackling purple bolts along its surface as it swept a great half circle, the artistry of its making combined with the power of the man who drove it, and assisted by the blitz of power that channeled into the metal permitted the edge to pass cleanly through the thick neck of the aged bull ox. Ulric’s class infused stroke ripped electrical power through the space cloven by his blade, like an arcing afterimage of the sword.
His legs bent absorbing the impact of his fall and he released his [Surge] as the follow through of his cut brought the sword level with the ground, hilt behind his hip and one hand free to loose a bolt of lightning if needed. The head of the beast thudded heavily into the snow and the rest of it collapsed, strings cut, the kill perfect. Or…almost. He felt a twinge for a moment, a sensation of the stepping off the shallow end of the pool into deeper waters. The whisper that he could go farther faded as quickly as it came.
Ulric released the breath he'd held as he struck slowly. He felt jubilant, that odd cognitive artifact just then aside. There was a purity in the moment of taking your prey, in making it your own, claiming it from the world to become part of your life. This was a clean death, absent the taint of ulterior motive that had prevented him from enjoying the deaths of his enemies before. For a moment he shared the joy known by the predators in all their shapes and sizes around the world. Then it was gone and he drew his knife to attend the business of honoring the old bull by using it correctly.
His knife slid from the clean cut of its neck down the chest, held at an angle to avoid rupturing the innards all the way to the bung which he cut out smoothly. From there he popped the gut into its opened cavity and swiftly drew out the organs from the cavernous abdomen. Gore steamed in the golden light of the morning, but no scent of foulness accompanied it, the bowel was intact. Smiling, Ulric stabbed his knife into beast and cut away its diaphram before planting the blade into the snow and reached half his body into the animal to extract the lungs and heart.
Heart, liver, kidneys, these were all to join the meat for eating.
Next, he had to carry out the task of skinning this unit of an animal. The [Direhorn Ox] probably massed fifty kilos more than a big old bull moose, which put it somewhere in the two thousand kilo range. It would be substantially lighter once they'd dried and smoked all the meat and most of the bones would not be useful, Taipan had been specific as to which held value and which did not. What they didn't use, the carrion birds and scavengers would take, nothing would be wasted.
He had the creature half "undressed" when his Shadow strode up, her silent step only given away because she knew to allow herself to make noise when she approached, or risk a fight or flight response, which was unwise when the startled person might throw lightning and fire.
"It was a good kill, Ulric, the beast was slain before it could feel any pain at all. Even my arrow through its heart would not have taken it so peacefully." She praised.
This had been her idea, to go out with her to hunt and also to practice the use of his skills. He had to admit, the lady knew her business. There just wasn't a way to practice lethal arts without the intent to destroy your target. Anything held back, for fear of harming your sparring partner, made it never the same as real combat. In a fight, every attack had to be a killing one, even a feint had to carry the intent to slay or it would never deceive an experienced opponent. Idra'se moved the same, whether he was administering a disciplinary flick of a rod or a swipe of a blade that would cut to the bone. It put a rather sharp edge on his "reminders" to attend one's training with heart. But it served the purpose of not dulling his mind's eye with motions that were not true.
Ulric continued to skin the ox as he considered what he'd learned from this exercise. When he'd fought with the Ogran cartel leader he'd poured his mana into his sword as a reflex, an intuitive action based on the words of the weapon's creator. The skin of the brute had been far tougher than anything he'd fought, it was nearly comparable to the defensive layer of the [Shrieking Ravager] whose fur had turned Taipan's arrows. His Ceraun was potently destructive and so he'd funneled it into the mana conductive blade to increase its ability to wound the tough Ogran. Successfully. And also, now that he'd experienced this skill, wastefully. The Ohmic Knight class skill had concentrated his energy, focused it, removed the slop, and he could appreciate its power when he saw the nearly two meter thick burly neck, bones and all, shorn as if by a guillotine.
If Ulric could impart that feeling of channeling his mana, he might be able to develop a more generally applicable way to amplify his sword strokes. The pulsing of his [Surge] was also proving to be absolutely the correct way to utilize that ability. Holding it for any length of time was an utter waste. Its true strength was in the sudden acceleration of his movements.
The leaping attack had proven itself as effective on the bull as it had been against him, it was a seriously bad idea to try to counter that kind of all out aggression, especially when the weapon used had reach. To do so put you in the position of trying to trade against the enemy's maximum power. Ulric's instinct to dodge away had been the correct one against that hammer user.
If he'd tried to parry, he felt certain now that his guard would have been crushed and nothing good could have followed. Against a ranged opponent as gifted as Taipan, it was of no use, of course, she would happily shoot such an enemy from the air. But in melee attacking from above was a good option if you willing to commit everything to the attack. No half measures though, that was asking for it.
What he hadn't figured out was how the hammer wolf had gotten faster as it moved through the air though. That had to have involved magic because Ulric was thoroughly aware of the rules for a body in flight and the first rule was that, absent external force, they just didn't speed up. Hammerwolf had most assuredly accelerated during his flight to greater momentum than with which he'd left the ground and that meant his own abilities had been at play. Something to figure out later, Ulric had finished skinning the ox.
Taipan joined him in quartering the animal, cutting away the ribs, drawing away the tenderloin, and she selected her choice cuts of cheeks, backstraps, and so on. These sections of meat and the bones they wanted were tossed onto the carefully peeled hide. Amongst the desired bones included the horns of the beast, sawn free by Taipan's concentrated use of her shadow blades. Ulric didn't know she could do that. The ends of the horns were very smooth, almost like they'd been sanded. Hmm…very interesting.
It took both of them to haul the massive hide sled back to their camp. Ulric declared there that this would mark the weight limit to their trade sled and Taipan agreed with him. More than this, and their journey would be slowed by the burden.
Fresh roasted beef was a revelation. Ulric had enjoyed a great many meats since his arrival on Varda. Most of them were some form of venison given that deer like animals roamed the forests freely and were not too onerous to catch. There was a somewhat diverse range of reptilian meats sprinkled in here and there, snakes, large aquatic lizards that were approximately crocodilian, that sort of thing. But, at no point, had there been a true analogue to beef. The hilly forests simply weren't grazing country.
Together, the traveling pair dug out a pit and buried the boned shoulders, roasts, and ribs to very slowly roast them by covering them in a thin layer of dead grass, followed by soil, and building a low fire on top of the pit. Ulric had suggested this as an alternative to smoking, which would prove tedious absent much in the way of wood and Taipan had confessed surprise that he knew of this method for preserving meat. He didn't gloat, it was a pretty obvious way to handle meat absent a smoker, but he was gladdened that some of the knowledge of his old world would find use in this one.
Farther and farther he was leaving that Engineer behind, keeping the useful bits of him and discarding the rest, sort of how he was processing the ox. That thought drew Ulric up to a pause for a moment before he laughed at himself. At least this old boy had gotten himself a harem and raised up a bunch of baby oxen. The man he'd been had died alone and absent any one in particular, elderly parents aside, to miss him. Truly, there was little to regret about leaving that life finished.
Speaking of finished, Ta Da! The Twins were high overhead and, other than the meat slow cooking underground, they were done with their hunt.
Ulric didn't worry too much about the beef being gamey, his blow to remove the head had pretty much guaranteed it bled out nicely, the forceful beats of that powerful heart breaking the cauterized seals across its large vessels before it stopped. It would be what it would be too, without a hoist, there was not a damned chance they ever could have drained a carcass so massive.
"So, what do you think?" Ulric picked his dark-skinned lover's brain.
"Hmm…I would give it an eight out of ten." She declared, borrowing his ubiquitous rating system.
"The airborne attack can catch an opponent off guard and does possess some merit for its power and aggressiveness, but it is fully committed. If an enemy is in possession of any ranged skill, magic, or weapon you make of yourself a fine target to be easily struck." Taipan concluded, matching some of Ulric's own realizations.
"There is also the problem in that this form of attack does not fully make use of your [Surge] whose best application should always be to change the angle and speed of your attack as close to the moment it hits home as possible. I was unprepared for how greatly it increased your power, in addition to the rapidity of movement. If it hurts as much as you say it does though then you must limit its use and be precise. I believe Idra'se has a similar ability but I have never noticed its activation, so smoothly does the Master integrate it within the flow of his Dance." the Huntress told him.
Mentally marking that advice down, Ulric would have to perhaps add using his ability during practice sessions. Those had been less frequent as they could have been since leaving Trachn'ir but there was only so much time in a day. On that topic…
"How to spend the rest of our day then?" Ulric asked, very content to spend it boiling down the bone marrow to make stock and calling it an afternoon.
They were both recovering quickly from the extended forced march but lingering tiredness, indicated that he should take it easy. If the magnificence of the Watcher's reforging on his form was breaking down under the strain, Ulric considered it a mark that they had been absolutely killing it making their way through the Lowlands forests to these plains. He was, more and more by the day, incredibly impressed by his Shadow's endurance. He might have been shouldering the majority of the weight of their supplies but his partner was an absolute specimen to have kept up with him. Paragon Aes'r-Iriel'en wasn't for fooling, Taipan was a credit to her species.
"This hunt will see our stock of meat and lard completely restored. I have been thinking to make a few extra bow strings, I note my own is starting to see some wear." said his Shadow, fingering her woven bowstring.
Ulric had made it long, long ago back in his glade from [Steelwood] bark fibers. Looking up, the woman actually looked abashed for a moment, hurriedly apologizing.
"Not that there is anything wrong with the string, Ulric, you did a fine job in its making!" She said waving her hands, her discomfit cute on her for its rarity.
"It is just that the bow pulls very stiffly and we have had occasion to see it used beyond what I would justify as normal. The cold and damp have also been very hard on it, in spite of my attempts to keep wax in place." apologized the Elf.
Ulric patted her calf comfortingly, "There's no apology needed, the fact that the string made it this long is pretty impressive. Do you think this ox will have tendons we can use to make a sinew string?"
Turning an appraising eye on the pile of bones and legs discarded she hummed to herself as she considered.
"Mayhap." She judged, noncommittal, "It is a terrible heavy draw."
That it was. Ulric had seen one of Bald'rt's royal guard struggle to pull it, failing in their initial attempt and having to brace themselves well to get it back. He hadn't considered that fact fully when he'd made it or when he'd given it to Taipan. When push come to shove Ulric was a strong bastard now.
It reminded him, he'd kind of like to replace his bow at some point, he was a fair shot with one and it kept his ranged options opened without requiring the use of his limited mana. Ceraun was a little wild, his core tended to overexert everything. Mana was even more a resource to be rationed now that his class skills were also drawing from his reserves. The thing about a battle mage was that they were potent as all hell when they had juice, but without it? Everything they did came to a grinding halt. Maybe they could trade for a stave somewhere.
He helped his sylvan wife to harvest the tendons out of the legs of their catch and she boiled them for a short while before beginning to fray the sinew into long fibers. Ulric helped with this as much as he could but, while he knew what to do, her fingers were simply leagues more adept at the process. Taipan had woven many a sinew string in her time. After a few hours of steady effort, they had assembled three credible candidates for replacement strings for Blinder, the name she had given so long ago to Ulric's gift. Those would have to dry before they could be waxed for preservation and tested to ensure they could hold up to the tension needed to draw Blinder to its fullest power.
