Braska was a forsaken wasteland. A world of ice, as though the realm were home to the Shiva twins. The frozen ground crunch under each boot step, as tiny crystals of ice shattered with each step. The world was crystalline blue and white, without vegetation, without vibrance or color, except when one comes across the location of a fiend’s feeding ground; then the darker shades of blood can be seen, tainting the purity of Braska. A day ago, Wedge had come across the first of these grounds, luckily the lone sentry they’d left behind wasn’t in a particularly observant state when Wedge found him, making dispatch that much simpler. He followed the pack, keeping his distance so that if the wind changed direction, his scent wouldn’t carry to them, always keeping weary for any scouts that drop back to guard the pack’s flank. Smart ones, these beasts… but they never seemed alarm when their sentries never return. Ever onward, drawing closer to the stated position of the new settlement of Bresha.
In the natural still of the wild, the shifting of rock down the surface of a drop was a call for alarm that could quickly be released to the idea of natural phenomena, but it was the shifting of stones that drew Wedge’s attention. He neared the ridge, peering over to see two individuals standing around a fallen machine. The sound he had noticed wasn’t loud enough to account for the descent of the bike, nor did he hear any tones akin to electric motor. No, they had not ridden the bike down the drop but must have scaled the plummet in order to reach the machine: Scavengers, more than likely.
He was getting ready to move on, stepping away from the ridge’s western face, to continue circling around towards the east, when he heard the chirp of a radio, the loud voice of mechanic communication, fixed with static, echoing unnaturally through the quiet stillness of the frozen waste. The sound made Wedge physically wince, not out of pain from noise, but knowing that they had just inadvertently given their position away to a rather active pack of hunters.
He could just leave them to their fates. It didn’t concern him. He wasn’t here on some humanitarian mission to rescue foolish people from their acts, but to search for a relic long forgotten, fabled to be somewhere in the area. Wedge peered back over the edge of the drop, visibly taking stock of the pair from a distance. The woman bore a rifle, and though perhaps it would do come good at distances, once the beasts closed quarters with her, it would prove clumsy and difficult to manage. The other, a mere lad.. if he did have a weapon, it seemed as though it would offer little protection. If the pack was nearly as large as he had feared, they’d be slaughtered, there beside the metallic hull of their treasure, to stain frozen ground with brilliant, crimson blood.
Wedge didn’t suffer fools gladly, and yet, he’s seen enough slaughter in the past few months of travel to serve for a life time, and as he saw the moment of the pack crowning the eastern ridge, he moved into action. His hands pulled the two blaze fire saber’s from his hips, quick flicks of his wrists sending the blades unfolding to either side as his feet caught the steep slope of the drop. The balancing was a feat of strength, as he allowed his booted feet to skid down the frozen ground, rushing him at a steep angle down the western incline towards the pair of combatants, to join the fray.
“They come,” He shouted, more to give alert to his own descent down the great bowl’s side than to alert them of what they already knew. He would be a sight to behold. A rather large, well built man standing nearly six feet, with raven black hair down to his shoulders. His clothing the same tone of color, black against the brilliant ice and crystal of Lake Braska, with a metallic sheen about his chest, forearms and shins telling of a light but durable armor. A warrior by appearance, with twin blades, unfolding to either side.
A growl, and the man reached the base of the bowl, thick, black cloak settling down around him as he looked to the east, then heavy, dark green eyes lay upon the woman and her companion. Strangers whom he’d never before laid eyes upon, who a moment ago he had considered to simply leaving to their ill luck. The boy didn’t seem much more to him up close than he had at a distance, but Wedge knew that appearance were often fooling. The woman perhaps more capable than he had given her at a distance.. perhaps.
“If you survive, I’ll have your names after..” he spoke to any question that may have been attempted in the moment before battle, to stop any foolish outburst of surprise or outrage. He stepped forward, setting a scrimmage line a good three paces before the pair, obviously intending to take the front, and act a wall against the onslaught. Dark eyes stare at the east, as twin blades anxiously tick at the frozen, crystalline earth below…