2017-08-13: It's A Breakthrough Everyone
- Log: It's A Breakthrough Everyone
- Cast: Noah Hawthorne, Josephine Lovelace, Lily Keil, Morgan Newkirk
- Where: Ruins of Lahan
- Date: August 13th 2017
- Summary: A small group breaks through a 'weaker' point in the battlefield. Takes place ICly a few days before the assault on the Guardian Temple.
<Pose Tracker> Noah Hawthorne has posed.
Summer in Ignas. Not merely any quarter of Ignas, but the place where the scant greenlands of the eastern coast dissolve into a broad, furnace-blasted yawn of desert, ever-increasingly large, poised to swallow the whole of the continent. The light of the sun hammers down with almost malevolent intention. Dust swirls in the insipid stirring of the occasional, unsatisfying breeze.
The upshot of such inhospitable conditions and climes is that travel through these areas, already light as a consequence of the blockade, has dwindled to practically nothing.
The downside of that state of affairs is that the only individuals one is likely to encounter this far out of field and this close to the line of skirmishing are dangerous as hell. Not just soldiers, though there are plenty of those, as the trio has had plenty of time and opportunity to observe, but also smugglers, thieves, people on the run. People who don't want to be seen doing whatever it is they're doing; people who're like to ventilate anyone who does with a hail of bullets rather than chance an inconvenient witness.
This is where a lifetime of drifting makes itself useful.
Noah's traversed not just Ignas but most of the continents of Filgaia at one time or another, and it shows. He tends not to articulate his thought process when it comes to navigating them into the wastes, but with the exception of one tense and ultimately uneventful encounter, they never see another soul. Not without the use of binoculars, broken out of his pack when they finally reach the apron of sand that verges on contested territory.
Progress slows to a halt then, even with the horses -- of which there are three. Noah's is his own; a massive reddish-brown-and-white paint horse with hooves the size of dinner plates. They advance cautiously, and never venture too close to the blockade itself as a group; more than once, Noah and Josie remain behind with the horses and gear while Lily advances to probe the blockade for weak points.
She finds one three days into their meticulous, cautious search.
As a traveling companion Noah seems to have only three speeds. The first is wholly animated, prone to running his mouth, telling wild stories that he swears are true, but have the outrageous contours of tall tales, difficult to believe; flirtatious, charming in the kind of overblown way that almost expects to be rejected as part of whatever that transaction actually is. Quick with a quip and a smile, sharp of tongue and wit, reckless, unapologetic. The second is nothing like the first: quiet, serious, focused. Careful, competent. Underneath it all, the sense that he could be, if pressed, a little bit dangerous. It's rare, but appropriate when it happens. Navigating risky business. Facing possible threats.
The last is unlike either. Mellow in the evenings, drowsy and lid-eyed. Whittling, or writing and sketching in the journal he keeps. It's more possible then to draw him out about his thoughts and expect a sincere answer than at any other time.
As they sit in the saddles, gear packed and lashed tightly, watching the heat shimmer rise off of the red sand to the northwest -- within which silvery haze Lily has assured them a gap exists, a stony chasm split into the earth providing an unusual degree of cover, wide enough for the horses but far too small for any invading army -- it's personality number one they're getting, even though the moment might, perhaps, call for the next one down the list.
Light gleams off of the barrel of one of the unusual ARMs he carries, unholstered for the moment as he double-checks everything. "--and he, believe it or not, thought it was tea. Drank the whole damn thing, and I'm still not sure how he didn't die, but he's the reason they don't use steins for spittoons in Dazil anymore."
<Pose Tracker> Josephine Lovelace has posed.
Summer on Ignas can be hell, particularly around this neck of the woods.
Not that there are woods here, oh no. It would be too much to ask for out this way, where the wastes spread further and further each year, chewing up by degrees anything verdant left on the planet.
But as she said once, to very different troublesome man, living in hell isn't too bad.
And even if it's damn miserable out here -- enough to make traveling in the daylight at peak sun a dubious proposition -- that just means it's just as miserable for anyone else coming this way.
Looking on the bright side (however questionably bright it might be) is just what Josie does.
At this precise moment in time, Josie tilts her head to one side, as if affecting mild attention to what Noah is saying. Unscrewing a flask -- for once not filled with alcohol -- she tilts out a capful to offer it up to the particularly unhappy-looking pigeon roosting on her shoulder.
Penelope looks like she wants to die, to be honest, or at least that she'd like to assume a more liquid form of bird.
"So that's why? Heh heh, bad luck for him," she replies, a lopsidedly smiling as she gazes over his way. "Guess he's got an iron stomach on him, or something. Though, probably it would have been better if he had died, don't you think?" Shaking her head as her pigeon drinks up, Josie glances skywards.
"...You know, the last time I came this way, it was on foot." In spite of herself, she grins. "It's a pretty good thing I didn't die, right? Next time I do something like that, I'm stealing a horse first."
You know. Assuming the one under her -- a smaller spotted one, stable and well-used to chaos for some reason and on loan (or something) from Morgan -- doesn't stick around.
She screws the cap back on and tucks the flask away. Penelope still looks rather deflated, but perhaps slightly less miserable.
"That, or maybe I'll call in a favor. There's a guy who owes me a mule." Josie, too, is a chatty one, fading into silence and careful watchfullness through the trip only when well-honed instinct prompted it. Good spirits are important, but so is not attracting undue attention, and even a novice Drifter quickly learns to get a feel for danger.
Even if the vague sense of Lily's little problem nags at the edge of her awareness at times.
With that, she squints into the distance, settling back in the saddle slightly.
"...Hm..."
It's nothing in particular that prompts her to draw her rifle. It could even be mistaken for a spot-check, a rare moment of care from the impulsive archaeologist. Best to make sure everything's in order before they make the last approach, towards what should be easy (or at least safer) passage.
It might even be the fact that it's 'nothing in particular'.
<Pose Tracker> Lily Keil has posed.
Summer in the desert. It isn't at all Lily Keil's favorite combination of time and place, but she grew used to it during her time on the Kislev/Aveh war front. What else could she do? She learned to handle such things for herself and others, studied remedies for heatstroke and ways to keep cool, and trudged about in black all over the sands. It just was the way it was.
She did not bring Leon, going to this place. It would not be the same for them. It might not be right. That difference alone ensures that it is not nostalgia she feels as she rides along, occasionally taking the binoculars for herself and spying forward and around and back. Lily Keil, former Lieutenant of the Black Wolves, does not intend to be ambushed like a green recuit.
On the road she is not talkative. Few who know Lily Keil would expect her to be talkative. But she is sharp, in her element somehow listening to the others if she engages in conversation at all. But it isn't all the time that she has the chance, and she is quicker to look between the others than she might otherwise be. One could almost swear that she'd smiled at a joke, but it's hard to be sure.
Lily's horse is black, blue-black with a black mane and tail. She searches rather than commenting on her own predictability.
That scouting ahead sees Lily spending a great deal of time alone. When she comes back from it she is calm enoug. She is certain of what she sees.
The Malevolence following her trails like a cloud, but not evryone can sense such things. Noah shows his three selvs, and Lily barely shows one, though Josie might see two--Noah might see two. But right now...
Lily sighs audibly at the end of the story, looking bored and above it as she glances forward again and does mor than glance. But Josie keeps talking. "I remember, " Lily tells Josie. "And I remember why you didn't die.
"Wouldn't it be a problem for you to use a mule?" Lily asks Josie. "You'd be too similar." A pause. Lily doesn't pull her rifle. Lily picks up one of her hands and a strange black vortex forms within it briefly, ready to throw.
...It disappears after a moment. "Let's make sure to be careful." The woman in stealth gear certainly intends to be.
<Pose Tracker> Noah Hawthorne has posed.
SOME DISTANCE BEHIND THEM:
"I want more hazard pay for this," Kissinger says, staring through a pair of his own binoculars at the tracks that buckle and ripple across the shallow dunes. Three sets of hoofprints. A pair of bootprints every now and then, too.
"Yeah? Well you can ask the Cav for it when we get back," says the woman astride a horse behind him. Auburn-haired. Underneath the brim of her hat she looks weary of the heat, but otherwise hardly affected at all. The men with her are six days unshaven, gritty and fragrant, but she's got the look of a woman tougher than a coffin nail about her. Proves it out when she reaches out to snare the strap of the binoculars and yank them out of Kissinger's hands. "We're crossing this blockade. We get Hawthorne, you'll get your bonus. Until then? We'll be lucky if we don't get leaded ourselves, as long as this is taking."
Kissinger startles when the binoculars are tugged out of his hands. Scowls, but does not turn around. "Yeah, well. I was paid to get Hawthorne. Not 'Hawthorne and two dames.'"
"You're an idiot."
Foot in the stirrup, halfway to reseated in the saddle, Kissinger does finally look around at Marza. Shoots her a dirty look.
She explains with barely passable patience: "Just blow their heads off and leave'em. Gods above but you're thick."
"That's definitely a type of 'got.' My rate accounts for all the people who might give a good goddamn about Hawthorne going missing, and whatever trouble I've got to sort after the fact. Ain't got any such tax on the ladies."
Marza's had enough. She applies her heels to her mount's flanks. "Then stay here," she drawls dismissively. "And you and the boys can mount a search party for your balls."
Kissinger gets on his horse.
BACK AT THE BLOCKADE:
"I do believe he wished he had," Noah answers Josie, of the unfortunate contact in Dazil with the belly full of tobacco spit. He punctuates that by reholstering the ARM, shifts his weight in the saddle, and wheels his horse around. "Harsh," he opines, of Lily comparing Josie with a mule. No defense of Josie follows, though, because Lily isn't, as far as he can tell, far wrong.
"I was thinking 'fast,'" he tells the Kislevi. "As in 'let's make sure to be fast.' The longer we've got our asses hanging out the more likely it is somebody's going to put a boot up them. Once we're on the far side we become their problem. Nobody on this side's going to chase us behind front lines."
<Pose Tracker> Josephine Lovelace has posed.
Lily's been silent, but that's not really a shift, from what she knows of the girl.
If Lily where bright and chatty, then Josie would be concerned. As it is, there's just the sense of the girl's presence... and her usual sullen mood.
Josie doesn't think she was anywhere near this bad when she was Lily's age. Though, Lily's probably too old for adolesecent sulking too.
Josie grimaces as Lily pipes up. "...Alright, I guess that time sort of counts too. I meant the time before that, though -- you're sure not going to stop bringing that thing up, are you?" Almost, almost, Josie looks as if she's about to roll her eyes.
Get run through once, never hear the end of it.
"...Kiddo," Josie sighs, closing her eyes as she finishes her checkover of Gawain -- very basic, this time, but she doesn't have a moment to do more than that. "Anyway," she says, sliding the rifle back into the holster strapped to her back (but pointedly does not secure it), "I doubt it'd be a problem. They say that birds of a feather flock together."
It's as blatent an admission that she's a mule that anyone will get.
Reaching over to gather up the reins loosely in her left hand, she glances back over her shoulder. "Yeah. Better quick than dead. We should move it."
<Pose Tracker> Lily Keil has posed.
Sullen is about right for Lily as a rule; even in the desert sun, she's a spot of darkness, broken up little by her clothes that cover more of her skin than usual. Once or twice she's misted herself with ice, and she has a cloak quick to release. Her hood is up, to shield her face somewhat. And Josie of course grimaces. "I'm not going to stop until I actually think you've learned your lesson. You're making good progress, bringing me with you." She stops. "...Maybe not after that, either."
She's more willing to needle than she has been?
Rude, and Lily lifts an eyebrow, waiting for a response. "...That's fair," she says, accepting the answer without urther insult. But...
"I'd rather do more scouting and make a plan," Lily admits. "But..." She shakes her head. "I do have a few contingencies. Let's get moving. I won't fall behind unless we're attacked. Then, not for long."
<Pose Tracker> Noah Hawthorne has posed.
"There's no point," Noah says, of further plans. Subtle, impossible-to-see changes in his weight and posture cue the animal beneath him to pivot around and begin a descent. "We can't plan for what's coming. You said your information was solid -- now we just have to trust that, and be ready to improvise. Eyes and ears open. We'll make it through to the other side. If we get separated...well. Assuming I don't wind up shot to death or worse? You can find me in Dazil."
And with that, he the paint horse puts on a sudden bull rush of speed, kicking up fantails of ruddy dust as it gains momentum on a downslope, until it's tearing in the direction of Lily's discovered gorge, tail high and whipping in the wind behind it like a banner of war. It's fast, for something of its size...but one assumes that sudden stops are not on the menu.
They aren't far from the blockade itself. It'll be less than a minute before they're in the thick of things, moving at that pace, and every last inch of Noah is alive to that reality. These first few heady moments of peril are always the most intense sort of rush: when you tip the ball over the top of the hill and gravity falls out from underneath it, sending it inexorably toward whatever destination awaits at the end of its long and wild plunge.
He lives for this.
-- and has no desire to die, though it would be a lie to suggest that the possibility of death didn't in some strange way contribute to the intensity of the experience. The rush of blood pumped by a strong, young heart through a body built to deal and withstand punishment, shot through with a steel braid of adrenaline that leaves every last nerve tingling and alive.
<Pose Tracker> Josephine Lovelace has posed.
"Lesson?" Josie exhales a long, long sigh.
"Now what makes you think I'm gonna learn a lesson at my age?"
At least she knows herself.
"Plans... huh, I dunno," Josie murmurs, urging her horse forward in a trot. As Noah explains it's all improv from here, she nods, silent for the moment. Then: "Yeah. I think it's too late to do more than what we've done. We've just gotta move on and hope for the best."
She pauses, then grins at the both of them. "Fengalon be at your backs and all. Dazil or bust, now."
But she tugs lightly on the reins as Lily pulls up closer, urging her horse to slow. Josie lowers her voice, eyes hooded as she gazes at the younger woman. "...Kiddo. Worse comes to worst? Get out of here and get back to your boy. We're not over the hump yet, there's still a chance."
And in spite of the implications of what she's said, she smiles. "Don't worry. I've still got things to do before I die. One way or another, I'll see you in Dazil."
She lingers no longer, not when Noah's own horse suddenly accelerates.
She won't be left behind. She won't be the last.
Better to leap than be pushed.
<Pose Tracker> Lily Keil has posed.
"Idiot, fool pride," Lily answers Josie in deadpan, at te idea of Josie learning a lesson. Maybe that's not the only reason, but it's good enough for now. But the other two answer her talk of plans. Lily scowls, not at all liking the answers.
"Tch." A shrug, "Don't expect me to patch you up if you go off risking yourself when you didn't have to." She pauses, "Fine, fine. We improvise. Things go wrong, I kill them."
Josie doesn't know, until she agrees. "I'm really bad at hoping for the best," the dour Kislevi replies. They all talk of going, not just Noah rushing off, and Lily starts off too, muttering and, very quietly, keeping hold of a Nisan cross in her left hand.
Worst comes to worst...
Lily looks at Josie, slowing as well and for a long moment she only looks back. "...All right," she answers. No argument, no pleading with Josie to be careful, just a simple answer. "If I see the chance I'm dragging you with me, but I can't meet my dead until I've done something for them."
Lily doesn't smile back. She watches Josie go, and rushes her horse along after the others.
Lily's feelings on death are not something she shares with many. But she will be last, here. For Lily Keil, last is how she protects. Last is how she watches back. ...And unfortunately, last is how she survives without those she should have helped. Always the one standing over the bodies. That's the way of the medic for her.
<Pose Tracker> Noah Hawthorne has posed.
The desert turns gradually into a declining funnel, and at the speed of a gallop it feels almost as though the stone walls of the narrow canyon burst up through the sands to loom suddenly over the racing horses and their determined riders. From blinding, searing sun in one moment to sudden shadows the next, swallowed by the throat of the gorge. Whatever happens now, there's no easy turning back.
Bending himself forward, leaning his body's mass down over the neck of the paint horse to minimize the target he offers, Noah reaches behind himself to palm at a series of loops stitched underneath the back rise of his saddle, and retrieves one of a number of cylindrical silver objects. Thumb placed over the top to suppress the arming cap, he brings it forward to tear something free of the cap with his teeth, pin spit out to one side. Morgan, at least, would recognize the thing for what it was if he were able to see it: he's seen Cassidy Cain throw plenty of them over the course of their acquaintance.
Because although narrow channels like this are a deterrent to attacking forces, Noah knows -- for Reasons -- how armies handle defending them to minimize expenditure of personnel.
They're on top of the emplacements almost before there's time to think or do anything else. Reinforced and bridge-like to accommodate the movement of personal forward should the front line shift, the tops are fortified in both directions, shielding the handful of troops stationed there -- most of them drowsing, feet up, or daydreaming as they stare off toward the other end of the canyon, where the opposite side has erected defenses in much the same way. It is not a likely avenue of attack.
Certainly not from behind. They stir to the sound of pounding hoofbeats, expecting news from superior officers; what they do not expect is to see a single horse come thundering around the bend to go disappearing beneath the catwalk arcing across the channel.
Rifles are raised, poised to snipe Noah in the back as he shoots out of the other side. He's saved from excessive ventilation by the adhesive explosive slung upward onto the bottom of the catwalk under which he just rode; somewhere just ahead of Josephine and Lily the emplacement comes apart at the seams, blasted outward, bits of it scattered, still licked with flame, across the sands.
Not saved entirely, though. One of the rounds fired from that bridge slams into the back of his shoulder with all of the force of a sledgehammer.
<Pose Tracker> Josephine Lovelace has posed.
'May we live in interesting times', Josie had said to Jude, weeks ago.
Her own times are about to become very interesting, in short order.
There is, most probably, a better way of doing this. She could wait, for one. She could see if she could hitch a ride with the caravan and whatever route they were taking, assuming they even had a way circumvent the blockade.
But just waiting around's not really her style.
Noah has the advantage of speed -- and seconds -- over her. Probably a more powerful horse, judging by how the steed picks up the pace.
There are times when the trouble with her right hand really get in the way of business. More than they usually do. Right now, with her left preoccupied with making sure the horse obeys -- she's good, competent at riding but no master-class stunter on a mount -- particularly at this critical junction. Using an ARM probably isn't happening, at least not easily.
But this problem isn't insurmountable. She doesn't need to shoot anyone.
Just help butt in on the distraction Noah should be causing right around...
Josie ducks, urging her horse on through the shower of debris. Her right hand moves in a small gesture, her lips move only barely.
Elementary magic doesn't call for much in the way of hand motions. The glittering orb forms in her hand -- just light, nothing but the basic light spell a Symbologist would learn -- and she hurls it overhand ahead of herself, urging it to detonate and flare outward in a bright burst. Like the equivalent of a firecracker, but without the force or fire behind it. Just light.
And then everything goes right to hell as Noah takes a hit to the shoulder.
"Fengalon's--" Josie starts to swear, biting the oath off as it becomes apparent that there are more snipers present.
Also she probably shouldn't leave Noah to die. So where are they--
Her gaze finds the sniper quickly. She hauls back on the reins just enough to slow her mount's urgent pace, and once again conjures a sphere of light.
"Lily! Fire!"
She hurls the ball of light up at the sniper, visible this time as a streak of light as it flies.
She means that literally.
'Lily, please use this helpful marker and direct as much fire as you can, right up there.'
<Pose Tracker> Lily Keil has posed.
The Kislevi sorceress is not accustomed to approaching a target on horseback, but this wouldn't be clear to look at her; she stares forward with gold eyes, her military attire keeping the sun off of her as she rides forward in the rear of their formation.
The emplacement looms ahead, and Lily looks to what Noah is likely to do, what Josie is likely to do, remembers the sort of weapons this side is likely to have... Pounding hoofbeats make the soundtrack to their approach, and the former officer looks ahead once the soldiers come into view at those mostly drowsing here.
"Hmph," she comments, and hangs onto her horse with her legs as she puts out her gloved hands.
"Not bad so far," she comments as the explosive does its work... and watches Noah shot ahead of them. she starts gathering up her energy as Josie moves, tossing up mist above their heads to shield them from above ustas she sees Josie direct her--and the ball of light catches her attention. "Firing!" Lily shouts, and puts her hands together. Red-orange runic circles burst into being around her as the orb's path and destination erupt in fire, fire that will cause explosions should it ind anything useful... but otherwise that explodes on its own at the target.
"Stay together!" the experienced second-in-command calls.
<Pose Tracker> Morgan Newkirk has posed.
It seemed that for the last week Morgan Newkirk has been about a half-step behind Noah, his occasional partner in crime. He's been going over different ways of breaking though the blockades that prevent passage to and from his nominal home of Kislev. He's made inquiries. He's watched patrols. Always a little bit behind where the treasure hunter was looking.
Really though he thinks he's found the perfect spot now. Its a weaker spot. Made weaker still by a few little probing attacks by 'bandits' up and down the line from here.
Its good to have contacts.
Up on the catwalk a fox talks with a sergeant. Passing a bottle back and forth. Chatting easily with each other like old friends Morgan grins as a crude joke from the other man finishes.
Right up until a horse comes pounding towards the catwalk. "Who the duce?" The soldier calls as he turns to stare at the charging Noah.
Morgan just quirks an eyebrow as he just pulls up the bottle and starts to down the rest of the contents. Then he sighs softly.
"Don't tell ya I never did anythin' for ya," He adds as he suddenly grabs the Aveh soldier by his lapels and flings him off the catwalk and behind a stack of boxes. "Take cover! Or whatever ya soldier types do!"
Then Morgan is running for the edge of the catwalk. A grin spreading across his face as he leaps up on a box, then the rail, and then over the edge in a wild leap with a whoop as he falls into space.
Under the catwalk a shaggy white Beskar horse chomps on a carrot. Placid and unworried it hardly looks up as Noah and others thunder past. Shaggy white hair covers his eyes as he just munches. At least until he hears Morgan's whoop.
The horse almost sighs as it trots out from under the catwalk, somehow managing to be at just the right space for Morgan to catch the side of the saddle, bounce off the ground and then leap into the saddle.
Then he's off, thundering on with Noah as the catwalk explodes into cinders and debris behind him.
"A little warning before hand would have been nice, Hawthorne! That was closer than that time in Aveh with the merchants daughter!" He shouts cheerfully as a mad grin plasters itself across his face.
Then the gunfire begins.
"Huh. Faster reaction that I thought. Next time I'll spike the wine more."
Reaching into his saddle bag he pulls out a cylinder of his own, depressing the arming switch before casually throwing it over one shoulder.
It explodes in the air, billowing out dark smoke to obscure the quartet of runners just seconds after Lily's magic streaks by.
"Evenin' Josie! How's Penelope?"
The question asked more as if they were meeting at a cafe rather than riding hell-for-leather away from gunmen.
His horse just seems to sigh again and keep on running.
<Pose Tracker> Noah Hawthorne has posed.
What began as a feeling of impact and then strange numbness graduates to distinct pain, though it's mitigated by the adrenaline coursing through Noah's system. The shot to his shoulder hasn't slowed him down at all, and if it weren't for the way the round slamming home had torqued his torso slightly, the tiny hole in the fabric of his shirt and, gradually, the increasing evidence of a wet, dark stain, it might be difficult to tell he'd been shot at all.
He double-takes when he's addressed by a familiar voice that 'shouldn't be here'. Glances over his shoulder once, then again, and after the second time his expression flattens. "You're supposed to be getting put back together, Newkirk!" Pause. Irritated, now: "And why the hell wouldn't you spike it as much as possible?"
Further criticisms are cut short as shadows peel away from the interior walls, a few posted sentries on horses of their own joining the flow of combat. His destrier banks hard to avoid a boulder on the canyon floor, and by the time it reappears on the other side he's got his arm in the hand on his uninjured side, and is twisted around in the saddle enough to look back to search for any sign of the women he's travelling with -- impossible now that they're concealed in a bank of smoke.
<Pose Tracker> Josephine Lovelace has posed.
When in doubt -- and with limited options that won't leave you with a totally dead hand for the day -- be creative.
Playing spotter with the light magic she first learned as a kid -- and which was thus the first tattoo scribed onto her back? Easy.
Even with bullets flying, a few a narrow miss as she urges her steed onwards through the chaos.
"Missed one! Try--"
Another sphere of light goes flying. "--There!"
Noah, Josie notes in passing, in the moments before the smoke catches up, is definitely not dead (or at least not yet). Which is good! She might have a problem otherwise.
"--Morg?"
Silence passes.
Briefly.
"Next time, double the dose, okay? This is a little bit of trouble right now!"
A bullet zings as it flies right past her cheek. "--See what I mean? Now, come on or we'll leave you behind! And she's fine, by the way!"
She charges on through the rolling cloud of smoke, turf torn up under her steed's hooves. Concealment helps but she can't see out anymore than anyone else can see in.
Which means no more light -- even a glow helps them but not her.
So instead as she leans across the horse's neck, she works the paces of a different spell.
Stay together, Lily had said. The moment the ex-soldier's horse draws close, she'll release that spell. A little pick-me-up, an amplification charge for magical effects.
<Pose Tracker> Lily Keil has posed.
"On it!" Lily calls to Josie as she gives another direction, and Lily conjures a torrent of explosions bursting up towards the target all at once, more than enough to cook a man or woman alive.
From there, Lily throws out a hand already preparing to throw magic straight at Morgan before he speaks like he recognizes Noah, and Noah answers him in return. Lily decides not to blast the new person immediately. She keeps an option on it though, focusing on the battle and remaining silent as regards the new arrival, even if everyone here knows him but her.
That changes shortly, of course.
'Newkirk.' SHe knows that name. She makes no comment on spiking the wine; she's busy making things explode until suddenly there's smoke all over, taking out their visibility pretty hard.
'Morg.'
Lily actually laughs from behind Josie, "You think this is trouble? This is light exercise." Lily's horse moves up further and the ex-soldier gets a... charge, for her magic, drawing in a quick breath as she feels it. "Didn't... Realize you could do that," she says, shaking her head.
"..Is that the Laughing Fox who joined us?"
<Pose Tracker> Morgan Newkirk has posed.
"I got bored," Morgan shouts back towards Noah. "And this looked way more fun than lyin' in bed and trying not to let most of my blood leak all over the sheets." A bullet whizzes past Morgan's head as he speaks. Close enough to part hairs over his left ear. Those ears pin back as he leans low over the saddle of his horse and pats the white stallion's neck. "You gonna let that lumbering brute of Noah's beat us lad?"
Stumpy. Thats the horses name. Pounds out a negative as he puts on speed.
"Guardians, everyone's a critic! I was sharing the bottle with em and I haven't built up that much of a tolerance yet! If you were fifteen minutes later..." There is a grin though. "...and no way you're leaving me behind! Life is just way too entertainin with y'all."
A pause then.
"You do realize the Kislevi forces just installed a Gatling gun on their side two days ago right?"
He's so full of helpful information.
"Hey! Girl with the fire!" This is tossed towards Lily. "Aim some for the red marked rocks round the next bend! Should make life fun for those few after us!"
The fox ears, then wild grin. He defiantly looks like a laughing fox. Right from his posters in the Arena. Hasn't aged a day it seems.
<Pose Tracker> Noah Hawthorne has posed.
Shan -- that's Noah's horse -- is built for power, not speed. Bred for war, it won't win in a straight contest with any animal meant for swiftness, and it's not too difficult for Morgan to draw apace, which is good, because that means he's able to catch Noah's sour look in response to his cheerful, predictable refusal to stay in bed where he belonged. "Should've hired somebody to stay in it with you," he says, and means it. If there were ever going to be any way to keep Morgan somewhere specific, he's absolutely certain it would involve a top-shelf bottle of something nice and a low cut blouse on something nicer.
His shoulder is already beginning to kick up a more vocal fuss, and he does nothing to alleviate the pain when he drives his heels down to secure them in the stirrups and tilts over backward, not quite laying prone over the rise of the saddle's hind edge. He bars one forearm up above his face as though blocking the sun out of his eyes, but really it's a prop for the ARM he rests atop it, braced against the lurch and rock of the horse moving full speed beneath him. Upside-down, to take aim at one of their pursuers, trusting that the animal will navigate the linear path for both of their sakes.
'You do realize the Kislevi forces just installed a gatling gun on their side two days ago, right?'
The ARM in Noah's hand bucks, a round plucking a rider behind Lily up and out of his saddle like the hand of some vengeful god, tossing him into the billowing plumes of dirt beyond.
"Well 'now' I do."
<Pose Tracker> Josephine Lovelace has posed.
"I said 'a little trouble'!" Josie calls back over a shoulder, urging her spotted horse onwards through the smoke cover. "Unlike you, I'm not that used to getting shot by an army!"
Just the one time before now, if she's being honest.
And at Lily's astonishment at Josie's well-timed little enhancement spell, the archaeologist grins and gives a very loose stiff-fingered thumbs-up with her right hand... which may go sight unseen in the smoke.
"The laughing... what? ...Let me guess, you know him?"
And judging from the name, he has Notoriety.
She really should have known. Oh well!
She urges the spotted horse -- the one that has no name as far as she's aware, and which she's so far refrained from naming (well okay she's called it Spotty on occasion) -- onwards, surging out from the edge of the billowing cloud of smoke. The horse is nothing special, just extremely well-trained and generally sedate during chaotic events -- in other words, perfect for a Drifter.
Just not particularly fast, either.
"A gatling gun, huh? I always wanted to take a look at one of those. Too bad, I think we'll have to blow it up." A little fire, a little electrical jolt should do the trick.
If it doesn't mow them down first, but them's the breaks.
Which, speaking of--
"Watch out, ditch ahead!"
Probably to stop horseback riders coming from the opposite side -- deep enough to trip and probably break the legs of an unsuspecting horse. Leading back as she urges her horse to pick up steed -- and hoping it knows how to leap on command -- she leans back in the saddle.
Her right arm moves in a sharp gesture. Her lips move. Electricity runs down her arm, coagulating into a current wrapping itself around her hand. Overhand, she hurls the lance backwards at a rider gaining on Morgan.
"Took care of that for you~"
<Pose Tracker> Lily Keil has posed.
Lily's horse probably has a name. Probably.
"Maybe you should get in some practice!" Lily calls over to Josie amidst the smoke, and then to Morgan and Noah, "If you boys start bleeding too much I'm carrying you out of here." She doesn't sound like she's joking. Entertaining life... and...
Lily has nothing to say about how to get Morgan to stay in bed beyond what she already has.
"Thanks!" she calls to Noah as he gets a soldier off of her. Lily's black horse thunders along, and Lily misses the grin and thumbs-up, but she doesn't miss Josie's question. "I grew up in Nortune!" she explains, "I saw a lot of his fights in the Battler Arena!"
Out from the cloud of smoke, she hears about the gun and narrows her eyes. "That's exciting," she deadpans, and then the words are tossed to her. "On it. But that's Lieutenant Keil, Kislevi Special Forces, Black Wolves!" She brings her horse up farther forward. Ditch ahead--Josie moves to leap forward, while Lily moves to do the same, saving her magic for what she sees along the next bend as she leaps.
Red marked rocks... Lily throws out both hands mid-air, and lets loose a column of flames easily twice her height in width straight for the target.
"I guess I'm artillery. For the record, I can do ice and raw destruction, too."
<Pose Tracker> Morgan Newkirk has posed.
"Yeah you likely should have!" Morgan replies with a laugh. "Maybe several someones!" He is cheerfully unapologetic about his vices. Noah knows him well enough about that. The acrobatic display from Naoh and then Josie gets an appricitive look. "You're gonna open your shoulder up worse you know!" He adds helpfully towards Noah as he leans back in the saddle like that.
The fox himself pushes himself up in the saddle to spin around, sitting around backwards as he raises his ARM. Blue-white energy explodes into existance as a pair of oddly elegant white-gold pistols that chatter away at the pair of remaining persuers.
Though strangely he doesn't seem to hit them at all.
A lance strikes one of the remaining horsemen as Morgan smirks at Josie.
"Much obliged. Do I owe you dinner again?" He asks with a grin towards the gunwoman.
The Lily starts up the fire and the man's grin only grows. He starts to laugh. "I'll keep that in mind then miss special forces! Now, hold on!"
The ditch is coming up and his ARM brightens again. Solid energy appears under his thundering hooves as the bridge of energy gives him purchase across the ditch.
Lily's fire hits those marked rocks and the Fox laughs again. As rippling explosions start to erupt from the concealed points back towards the Aveh lines.
"Kislev sappers put those in at some point! Figured we might as well use them!" He calls over the roar of explosions that ripple back down the ditch towards the Aveh lines. Eruptions of dirt and debris to conceal and unhorse the persuers.
....now they only have to deal with the gun ahead. Right?
<Pose Tracker> Noah Hawthorne has posed.
'Watch out, ditch ahead!'
Noah, laid back over the rump of his horse and taking upside-down pot shots at their pursuers, can think of things he'd rather hear. He girds himself, but it's still not enough to entirely mitigate the pain of curling himself upright and out of that position against the inertia of their swift flight through the gorge. His shoulder screams at the indignity of it all, and some of that tightness threads through his voice as he volleys back, "Not half as much as they'll tear it open if they catch up!"
But Morgan isn't wrong, anyway: it feels like a small sun is buried in his shoulder, just above the wing of his shoulderblade. He grits his teeth, shoves that down and away. No time for pain.
Shan negotiates the ditch by thundering down into and then back up out of it again rather than trying to crest over the top: sturdy legs and strength to spare make doing so less of a peril than it might be for some daintier creature. It might well have snapped Noah's spine had he not righted himself, though.
Detonations rip through the canyon, echoing along the length of it as Lily's firepower exploits weaknesses in the terrain. Pebbles and stone chiops zip through the air, hot as coals. The sting as one snaps across the side of Noah's neck is like taking a wasp to the throat at full speed; he hisses and slaps a hand over the red mark, cusses in some gutteral language beneath his breath. A glance at the peculiar device strapped around that wrist sets his jaw, and he wipes at the perspiration appearing on his crown with his forearm as he calls out, "Closing in on the far emplacements. I've got one grenade left -- you ladies have any magic tricks to get it where it needs to go before we get there?"
<Pose Tracker> Morgan Newkirk has posed.
"If you two do," Morgan calls out as he reconfigures though energy shields of his. "I'll make sure you get close enough to use them!"
<Pose Tracker> Josephine Lovelace has posed.
"Maybe, but this is less practice and more like the practical!"
The Battler Arena.
"Can't say I'm familiar!" calls back the woman who grew up to the south of Aveh. "But I'll take your word on it!"
Shaking out her hand -- not out of actual pain, just because this much fine movement's starting to make some of it catch, Josie rolls her shoulders in a slight shrug. Morgan might briefly even see from his vantage point where Penelope is, in fact:
Half-buried under her jacket and hunched up against the back of Josie's neck.
"Get us past this and I'll get back to you!" she calls back, regarding dinner.
Spotty -- let's just go with that -- picks up speed and on Josie's urging sails over the short would-be leg-breaking indentation on this part of the earth.
Oh good, the horse does know how to jump.
"Wonder why there's not more barricades out here," Josie comments, moments after the horse closes the short and shallow gap and stampedes on ahead. "Guess it's more of a standoff!"
That or this section of the blockade's not where any of the encounters between the armies are currently expected to take place.
But she'd put her money on standoff, particularly once Aveh realizes Kislev has brought GATLING GUNS to the table.
Which, speaking of...
"You mean like a wind spell or range enhancement or something? Nope! Sorry, outside my focus!" She glances sidelong at Lily.
"If I can get close enough, I can try to zap it, but that's the most I have I think will work! Aim doesn't matter to a gatling!"
<Pose Tracker> Lily Keil has posed.
Lily keeps track of what they're alking about with their injuries, but looks more at those ARMs for a moment. She finally does chime in, "Josie, you sure make a lot of friends!" Then she adds to Josie who doesn't know what she's talking about, "That's fine!"
Lily at this point throws out a lance of ice behind her to aim straight at the center of a soldier's chest, and only then does she answers, "See that you do!"
The black-haired sorceress lets the explosions thunder through her as she moves forward, and there might be a way out of here for now. Right through Kislev lines. Kislev, who knows by now that she's still active.
Hot coals launch through the air, and four of them all at once slam into her body armor and skid off with the smell of burning fabric. Another launches across her face, setting off an angry burn down her cheek. "Tch--"
The grenade question... Well... Lily touches down too, rattled by the impact hard as she moves on. Probably, "Standoff I imagine!"
The grenade? Lily glances back to Josie, "I've got nothing that wouldn't probably destroy it on the way!" she calls. "But I'm a cannon. Just get me close." Black power crackles around Lily's hands in warning, with a little pulse of Malevolence. "...And if you don't get me close enough I can heal myself if I stay alive."
<Pose Tracker> Morgan Newkirk has posed.
"Point taken!" Morgan tosses back towards Noah as they thunder on. "Just keep running and get ready on that grenade!" The grin on his face just shows how much he is enjoying this. It also distracts from how much pain that his newly reopened wounds are causing him. Spots of red starting to appear on his shirt give a slight hint to that.
He doesn't let that slow him down though as he spins back around to face forwards. The pistols evaporate into motes of energy as he weaves his shields back into existence.
They crest a rise towards the Kislev lines. One last bend they thunder on. With the explosions, the smoke, the gunfire. The Kislevi know they are coming. Its hard to hide a run like this, but thats part of the fun isn't it?
That last bend is rounded and they are greeted by a brand new gatling gun, aiming towards the narrow channel they find themselves in. No where to hide. No where to dodge.
The situation is not ideal to be frank.
It quickly becomes less ideal as the weapon emplacement opens up. An unholy volume of fire is thrown towards them, the cacophony of sound mixing with the overwhelming smell of cordite. For most people it would be suicide.
Diggers though, they aren't most people.
Blue planes of force, solid but translucent, spring up in front of the four riders. Morgan's ARM glowing bright as he pours his own energy into getting them all there alive.
"Well that's all the more reason to keep us all safe, Josie!" The fox calls with a laugh as they plow ahead. "Look at that, you're an inspiration. Now I just keep ta keep the other two safe as witnesses!"
He can't stop all the bullets, but he can stop quite a few.
Apparently the Laughing Fox in person is every bit as madly reckless as he was in the Arena.
<Pose Tracker> Lily Keil has posed.
Lily doesn't miss the spots of red on her allies in this endeavor; it's her job--was her job for a long time--to be looking out for exactly such things, when they didn't necessarily notice themselves they were hurt for whatever reason.
She doesn't really try to turn that of. Especially not as they crest that rise and move across that bend to see the Kislevi emplacement before them. The gun is brought before them, and Lily's wrists twitch as she prepares something... THat she doesn't have to do after all. The barriers springing up before them take away most of those bullets... if not all. A few get through and Lily takes one to the ear, one on her armor like a sledgehammer, one across her thigh. The pain doesn't stop her. "Closer!" she calls, and with the barrier's help, charges forward.
It may bother the Kislevi that someone in a uniform not so unfamiliar is riding forward. It might bother them more when the violet circles burst into being around her hands.
Lily lifts both, her eyes turning black--solid black--as she extends a hand and a small, fist-sized sphere bursts into being over the gun... and rushes downward to explode in blackness and seek to wrench the metal until it's unrecognizeable, melting into so much slag with another burst, and another, and another. It's deafening, but so was the gun.
<Pose Tracker> Josephine Lovelace has posed.
A lot of interesting (problematic) friends. "What can I say? I'm just a friendly person!" Josie calls out, urging Spotty on ahead. At least no one seems to be shooting at them now from behind; the last thing she'll need are bullets from both directions.
Particularly if they might need to evade a hail of gatling gun up ahead shortly.
Or, well, Josie is pretty damn sure there aren't any snipers left standing on the other end of the field.
There it is.
Light shines into existence before her. "Thanks for the assist!" she calls out, plunging on ahead into a storm of gunfire.
Josie has the fleeting thought, as they onrush into that rain of bullets, that this might be a contender for one of the dumbest things she's done in her Guardians-damned life.
Hopefully the horse won't get shot out from under her--
A potent thought as bullets careen off the barrier. Electricity snakes down the length of her right hand following a mutter and a gesture.
Josie isn't paying attention to Lily. Her own reticule of the world has narrowed significantly.
Penelope huddles lower against back of her neck.
Most but not all applies here, too. One catches Spotty across the front leg, leaving a welter of blood. The other, despite her attempts to keep low behind the barrier, zigs along her left arm. There's flare of blood, but luckily it's torn the flesh; a little closer and she'd have a shattered humerus for her trouble.
But it's the horse's response that gives her more trouble: already stressed, Spotty the horse rears up; Josie curls up along the animal's back, swinging her wounded arm under and around the horse's neck.
No time for thinking. At any moment, she could come crashing down to earth.
So she lets the electrical charge fly, a burst of ozone flooding outwards as she hurls the bolt like a javelin.
It may even briefly blaze through Lily's cloud of darkness.
<Pose Tracker> Morgan Newkirk has posed.
Sweat breaks out on Morgan's brow as he channels even more power into the shield once he notices some getting though. The shields flare brighter for a moment, pulsing with energy as they get that last final boost to get the two magic users closer to their target. That target being what is vomiting lead in their direction.
He notes the hits on Lily and Josie as he angles Stumpy to the fore. The shield around Josie merges with his and he surges forward, the blue-white field now touching his gaunteted fingertips as he holds his arm up and pointed towards the weapon blasting towards them.
"Josie! Don't you fall on me!" He calls out, not dareing to take his full attention off that barrier.
Its a gamble.
Its trust in people that he might not should trust, but he has no other choice. And really thats what makes things like this intresting. Dancing across a blades edge. One diviation too far...and there is that abyss of black waiting for him.
Its that danger that gives moments like this the bite.
It seems he put trust in the right people though.
Blackness and destruction envelops the emplacement as Lily channels destruction and wrath into the metal and sandbags. A screach of tearing metal joins with the crackle of Josie's lightning as she flings the bolt. Shrapnel flies as the entire emplacement shatters under the repeated impact and the lance of lightning.
Screams as men dive for cover and the firing stutters to a stop, men hiding in awe from the rampant destruction.
<Pose Tracker> Noah Hawthorne has posed.
ARM secured again in the holster he drew it from, Noah replaces it with another grenade -- a follow-up to whatever Lily is about to unleash, if they can only maneuver her close enough to deliver the blow -- and he takes the reins back up with his other hand, unwilling to leave 'this' to the judgement of the horse between his legs. Shan's instincts are good, but horses know nothing of 'gatling guns', and it's going to take all of their combined gifts to deliver them through what's coming.
With Morgan's shields belling into shining existence in front of them, Noah reins back on his speed to draw apace of Lily behind him, the better to present an additional barrier, a kind of escort for the Kislevi woman with the means to shatter the emplacement. He doesn't know what she's planning to do, but he's absolutely certain about one thing: if she didn't think it would work, she wouldn't bother to try.
What 'does' happen, when it starts to happen, causes the fine hairs on the back of his neck to stand up as a crawling sensation ripples up the length of his spine. He has no eye for Malevolence, but he can sense it better than some, and it turns something in his chest upside-down in a sensation not unlike the weightlessness that follows flinging one's self from a high cliff. Hazel eyes slash sidelong, take in the black pits of her gaze, but there's no time for them to linger, no time for thought: she sends something off, some sphere of concentrated darkness, and though he can't see through the explosive destruction the full extent of what it does -- even with the blaze of light that flares up in the wake of Josephine's own assault -- he follows up as he said he would: tears the pin free of the cannister grenade with his teeth and hurls it with unerring aim into the breach they've torn.
Cloths of dirt spew up from beneath hooves the size of dinner plates as Noah wheels Shan away on an angle, an intercept trajectory with Josie, clued to her situation only by Morgan's timely shout.
If she falls, she's a dead woman. The horse may already be a lost cause, but Josie is the thing at the center of their aims: if she goes down, all of this was for nothing.
<Pose Tracker> Lily Keil has posed.
Lily sighs as Josephine mentions she's friendly. She'll leave it at that.
But Josie's magic goes through, and Lilyherself tries to look at Josie as soon as she's able to ensure she's reasonably safe. But there's only so much she can do to take her eyes off of her own task here, her own necessary maneuvers.
At first that isn't very far.
Lily tries to block out the screams of her countrymen as she keeps an hand out to channel her darkness until it finally fades and she's left trying to catch her breath. Noah was right, though; Lily believed it would get there, and she did appreciate the added shield so that she could better concentrate. Now, her eyes are still solid black and she's starting to rise up again, unaware of Noah's issue with the aftermath of her casting. She grits her teeth at the grenade... And then rushes with the others to Josie, kicking along to speed her way and throwing out her hand again. "Shit," she says, and just goes for it; red light hums about Josie's horse, healing that injured leg if Lily can manage the effort on an animal, with sparkles of crimson energy and their soothing warmth.
"Josie you damned well better stay up or I'm going to stay right here!" It's an empty threat, but she makes it all the same.
<Pose Tracker> Josephine Lovelace has posed.
There's no room mentally or otherwise to respond to those shouts.
Distantly, Josie can only think one thing.
She hadn't been serious when she'd made that joke to Lunata and Shalune. She wasn't intending to die here--!
The horse rears up, kicking its front legs madly as a few stray bullets -- in the instant before the gunnery detonates -- ping off the shield and otherwise fly about it.
Josie hangs on with everything she's got, digging her thighs and knees into the horse's sides.
And two things happen approximately instantaneously.
The wound on the horse seals shut in a pulse of red light, pain vanishing with it.
Noah and his horse -- his measurably calm horse -- come rushing in.
Also the storm of bullets is sort of not an issue anymore, but that's side factor at this point.
Against the odds, the horse returns its front legs to Filgaia once again, taking off in a sudden rush instead.
It takes even Josie a few seconds to right herself mentally. "--Come on!" she shouts, gesturing back towards the others with her right hand.
Lily might not get a proper response to that shout of hers until much later.
<Pose Tracker> Morgan Newkirk has posed.
"My sentiments exactly!" The relief in Morgan's voice is palpable as he sees the healing spells and the effect of Noah's horse on Josie's. The gunslinger pulls his horse closer, not quite enough to crowd Spotty but enough to give her an extra layer of protection in the form of a tall fox between the group and any other stray rounds.
Of which there are a few, even if its scattered right now. The recovery of those soldiers is considerable.
Kislev does train their soldiers well.
Current company being a case in point.
"Last one out of rifle range buys the first round!" He crows as he turns Stumpy the shaggy Baskar pony after Josie's and the rest.