(Collab between AlexStarsion, vietmyke, Mike73, Mercenary Lord and HeySeuss)
The truck didn’t have very good suspension, so there was a lot of creaking and jostling. It was dark, but the fires in the distance provided a point of reference for driving. Gideon, however, rode in the back with the others, having assembled a pack of supplies from his camping gear. It was mostly dark, but the crash site created some glow in the distance, an easy beacon to follow.
Gideon had done enough night exercises at the Citadel, they all had, to be fundamentally okay with the deepening spring chill of the night. He didn’t have uniform gear packed away, but instead had worn the sort of clothes he took for outdoor activities anyway. They all had some variation of outdoor gear, some of them had weapons but they were mostly loaded up with booze, not equipment.
Others could pull weapons out of the Mist, out of themselves, but Gideon’s preferred mode of operation was a rifle. He didn’t have one of those on hand, but he had a hunting knife and a combat hatchet that he favored.
Every creak and groan of the truck felt like they were being given away, but the reality was that this was a rescue, as far as Gideon knew, and they were not walking into an ambush. Even so, despite this being his suggestion on getting down here, he felt the hair on the back of his neck rise a bit, and faced outward, keeping eyes on their flanks, watching along the roadside as the truck rolled by it. He left the conversation to others.
Galahad sat himself down across from Gideon, at the edge of the truck so he could look out just as easily. He didn’t bother sitting in the front seat- He didn’t much care for Darryl, and he was well aware that he had a similar sentiment about him. Besides, you didn’t need a tactician to tell you how to drive towards a crash site. Instead, Galahad would prepare useful spells for their little outing.
Of course, they were engaging in more of a humanitarian search and rescue mission rather than a force-recon patrol, but it still never hurt to be safe. No one had ever complained to him about keeping them safe. During field operations, the instructors loved to throw curveballs at the team- such as giving them faulty or non-working equipment. In their last 4 years of training, Galahad had perfected a spell for their team.
Gathering the mist around him, he created a set of ‘beads’. He bound a basic protection spell into the bead- it was a standard barrier spell, cut-down to relieve the burden on himself. The barrier spell would protect the wearer from a single blow from a weapon, projectile, or other deadly weapon to the torso or head, the primary vital regions. Attacks to the limbs were inconvenient, but nothing their medic couldn’t handle. Only for Theta and Trent did Galahad extend the protection spell to include the arms instead- several mages used hand motions to help them concentrate and focus for spells.
The second spell bound to the bead was a communication spell, for the cases where their communication equipment didn’t work, they could utilize the communication spell to talk to each other. The bead would collect sounds from the wearer and project them through the other beads, like a walkie-talkie system. It also had a vocal trigger to mute and unmute. It wasn’t as efficient as their long range communication technology, but in a pinch it would do the job.
The last spell bound to the bead was more for Galahad’s usage than anyone else. When someone’s barrier spell was expended, it would trigger an alert on Galahad’s bead, allowing him to know who had been attacked, and subsequently restore their barrier when the conflict had ended.
The result of his spell weaving was a set of orbs no bigger than a pinky nail each. Galahad stuck his bead to the dogtags around his neck, before handing one off to Gideon and passing the rest out.
Trent grinned, staring at the back of his eye lids listening to the spell Galahad was weaving and enjoying the tones it made. Communication, protection and a relay of some sort that he couldn’t pin point. Getting them to mesh together made the notes sing out to Trent. This, was going to be interesting when he was “sent” to the front lines. Taking a bead when it was handed to him, eyes still closed, head still leaning against the truck, he stuck it under his own collar. His voice would catch enough for their group and leaving his hands open to do what he did best. Blow everything sky high. He passed them on to the next person without much looking at them.
Lee didn't have much of a response to Gideon's comments beyond shooting him a sour look. He was honestly thrown off by the sudden fiery event in the sky and was too mentally preoccupied trying to figure out what the hell was going on to come up with a snappy comeback. Though of course, once they all got on the truck and began to drive off to the crash site, he managed to think of something good, but it was too late by then so he just let out a huff as he folded his arms. It was almost uncharacteristic of him with how quiet he was, but he just seemed to be shocked. While no one had expected the firefight and crash to happen, to him it was just surreal to see it with his own eyes. This was the real thing, something he'd been training ten years for, and he didn't feel ready.
But really, that was his own fault. He never took any of the training seriously until recent years, and now he just felt unprepared. That wasn't to say he wouldn't act if the time called for it, but he there was a bout of anxiety dwelling deep in his chest. What probably worried him the most was that he wouldn't be able to step up if anyone needed him to, or that he would somehow screw something up.
He took a deep breath and slowly let it out. He was getting in his own head and freaking himself out, he needed to relax before he created some sort of self-fulfilling prophecy. He could handle this, he knew he could. Ready or not, he still had the skill to act and contribute. Maybe not to the extents that everyone else around him could, but he wouldn't let that stop him from doing what he could. If anyone needed backup, he'd be there. Mentally, he prepared himself to peer into the Mist in case a spell of his could be useful during this rescue mission. If necessary, he would even summon his weapons, though he hoped it wouldn't come to that.
Sometime during the ride, Galahad had created what could only be described as magic beads. Lee took one once he was handed one and attached it to his jacket's collar, making sure it was on securely before leaning back in his seat. He'd elected to sit in the back, figuring that despite being friends with Daryll, someone else would be better suited sitting up front, preferably someone who wasn't him that could react quickly if something was happening out on the road. Trent was sitting next to him, head leaned back and body language that said he didn't want to do anything at the moment. Lee hoped he would be ok in case things went south, Trent had drank almost as much as him, though possibly even more.
Trent couldn’t help it, but his hand patted Lee’s leg, right above the knee cap, “I’m fine, I can feel you staring.” He still kept his eyes closed, humming softly to the music only he could hear. “Setzer and Zimmy made sure I could handle my drinks when I DID go out.” He let the small conversation die and finally opened his eyes to look around when he felt the truck coming to a stop.
Lee looked over Trent patted his leg, and nodded in response. Right, Trent would be fine, there wasn't anything to worry about with him. He may be small, but Trent was more than capable of handling himself, he'd proven as much with his spell casting prowess during combat training situations. Lee still hadn't gotten over how such a small guy could hold so much power, but he should have known that looks could be deceiving.
The beads were better than nothing, at least. They were going in with what they had. When Darryl slowed the truck up and ground it to a halt., Gideon was over the side and onto his feet on the ground with a light pack over his shoulders. It was the basics of medical supplies and some gear, but they’d packed for a party. All the same, he knew this area well, better than the rest anyway, because it’d been a place he’d hunted and fished on throughout his childhood. Even so, it was dark and he didn’t want to use a flashlight.
There was a spell for that, or at least a trick he’d used before. He wasn’t a guy that had a lot of magical firepower to spare, but he was extremely creative with what he did have, and was good at the manipulation of light and images as well as terrain conditions. With the bead replicating communications and giving them some protection, the real missing element was vision. It was, again, like the Citadel and the malfunctioning equipment.
He reached into the Mist and pulled down a miniscule amount of power. That was Gideon’s way, use the minimal amount of power and sparingly. After all, magic was a finite resource, like petroleum, like a tree. He’d often wondered where it came from and if there was a way to renew or recreate it. No answers on that, of course, but it was an intriguing question.
The practical effect of the minimal magic use was to pull some of the ambient light in and use that light to illuminate vision for Gideon. The trick was making it so he could see out but that it wasn’t giving them away, and that was the subtle piece of business. Then again, subtle ‘did that happen?’ magic was Gideon’s stock in trade.
“Best I take point. I know where we’re going.”
Zimmy wasn’t much a fan of the whole “silent and grave” riding bit. Sure, she was as used to it as the rest of them: they had gone through hours and days of this kind of riding when training in the Citadel, but that didn’t mean she liked it.
Darryl was driving, though not very well, and Galahad was doing that thing with magic beads he liked so much, and Gideon was being subtle as always...they were all specialists, she reflected. Specialists who were expected to be good at everything, and better at a few things. No pressure or anything.
So it was with some relief that they all stopped and disembarked. This was something she could get behind. Literally. “Lee and I can take the back. We’re fast enough to get around in a pinch. Just in case someone is out there that shouldn’t be, you know.” She looked down at the little gun in her hand, checking to make sure it wouldn’t explode when she fired it. So far so good. “Any objections?”
Trent stretched his arms high as he once more exited the vehicle, he arched his back and tilted his head with a nice soft cracking noise, “Can we stay out of that thing for a while next time…” His grin was still in place but his eyes, which to that point had a mystified look to them, hardened. “I’ll go right in front of Lee and Zimmy. Galahad has the more versatile spells, mine are more of a packing punch.” With two swipes of his hand, left going from his right shoulder to left leg, right hand going from left shoulder to right leg he pulled his pistols out from the Mist. Checking them was like second nature, clips in, finger off the trigger but on the safety for a quick draw.
He held them aimed at the ground and looked around himself, “I think, after this we head back to the camp site, drink the rest of the booze and party like we planned…” Trent shot Zimmy a smile and a wink. “See if we have more stories of our ‘shenanigans’ before we all get moved to new places.” He walked forward a bit, bumped shoulders with Lee and grinned at the taller male. “Maybe get Darryll some driving lessons without lights whilst we’re at it.”
Lightening the mood was something Trent strived for, even when he was checking everyone over for jitters. Darryll had been concentrating on his driving and everyone was so silent he had wanted to speak but was working on getting his slightly addled brain back to the realm of functional that he wouldn’t screw this up. He’d let Gideon lead them, listen for Galahad’s warnings if he needed to pull on the Mist to do what he did best, keep Lee and Zimmy informed if needed. Watch Theta and Darryll’s back and enjoy Sezter going beast on whatever enemy cross his path.
“I’m starting to see why our instructors refused to put us all in the same team structors… remind me to have words with them when we get back.”
"Sounds like a plan," Lee agreed with Zimmy and Trent's formation suggestions, "I'm used to taking things on from the back anyway, it's usually my role in this kind of situation. Alright, let's do this." It took a few seconds, but eventually a frown formed on his face. "...Uh, w-wait. That came out wrong. Pretend I didn't say that." He turned to Zimmy as he tried to change the subject, "A-Anyway, I've got you covered. Let me know if you need a boost, I can hook you up. Same goes for the rest of you, as long as I can see you my spells will connect, so don't be afraid to ask."
He chuckled a bit when Trent rubbed shoulders with him and tried to lighten the mood. Even at the worst of times he was still trying to prevent everyone from becoming too grim.
"Man, if we can finish this quick enough to get back in time to drink our asses off, I'll die a happy man," Lee joked, "But, something tells me we won't be partying again any time soon." He looked back in the general direction of the crash. Right, they still had a job to do. "But, I'm totally up for getting Daryll some driving lessons."
Once the dispositions were shaken out, Gideon took the first, cautious steps off the road and into the woods, moving carefully and finding his way. Even with the enhanced vision, it was easy to misjudge. Everything was in a blue tint but he could see more. By the same token, it required focus. Walking point wasn’t just stomping around to run into something. It was about care taken in every step, watching for wires, sensing for danger in every way possible. Bad point men got wasted. Gideon did well in training, but that was training and this, it felt like, was a real life situation, full of unknowns.
Next step forward. A few more, and he found an old deer trail that they could use to get closer into the crash site. He weighed the risk of using the trail versus not, heaving to the drilled-in wisdom of forward reconnaissance, patrolling and pathfinding -- don’t fuck with trails. But that was in a combat situation, and that assumed that the enemy would lay in ambush along it. Here, he decided to break the rule, if only because they were technically still rescuing people, rather than trying to ambush them or avoid ambush.
They were in a tactical column, it was the easiest way to move quickly, but even that wasn’t fast, not by the standards of civilian hiking. But Gideon, by the standards of combat patrolling, was moving at a fair clip along, toward the burning parts of the royal hunting preserve...
@Draken@AlexStarsion@vietmyke@Mike73@Mercenary Lord@Hexaflexagon@McHaggis
The truck didn’t have very good suspension, so there was a lot of creaking and jostling. It was dark, but the fires in the distance provided a point of reference for driving. Gideon, however, rode in the back with the others, having assembled a pack of supplies from his camping gear. It was mostly dark, but the crash site created some glow in the distance, an easy beacon to follow.
Gideon had done enough night exercises at the Citadel, they all had, to be fundamentally okay with the deepening spring chill of the night. He didn’t have uniform gear packed away, but instead had worn the sort of clothes he took for outdoor activities anyway. They all had some variation of outdoor gear, some of them had weapons but they were mostly loaded up with booze, not equipment.
Others could pull weapons out of the Mist, out of themselves, but Gideon’s preferred mode of operation was a rifle. He didn’t have one of those on hand, but he had a hunting knife and a combat hatchet that he favored.
Every creak and groan of the truck felt like they were being given away, but the reality was that this was a rescue, as far as Gideon knew, and they were not walking into an ambush. Even so, despite this being his suggestion on getting down here, he felt the hair on the back of his neck rise a bit, and faced outward, keeping eyes on their flanks, watching along the roadside as the truck rolled by it. He left the conversation to others.
Galahad sat himself down across from Gideon, at the edge of the truck so he could look out just as easily. He didn’t bother sitting in the front seat- He didn’t much care for Darryl, and he was well aware that he had a similar sentiment about him. Besides, you didn’t need a tactician to tell you how to drive towards a crash site. Instead, Galahad would prepare useful spells for their little outing.
Of course, they were engaging in more of a humanitarian search and rescue mission rather than a force-recon patrol, but it still never hurt to be safe. No one had ever complained to him about keeping them safe. During field operations, the instructors loved to throw curveballs at the team- such as giving them faulty or non-working equipment. In their last 4 years of training, Galahad had perfected a spell for their team.
Gathering the mist around him, he created a set of ‘beads’. He bound a basic protection spell into the bead- it was a standard barrier spell, cut-down to relieve the burden on himself. The barrier spell would protect the wearer from a single blow from a weapon, projectile, or other deadly weapon to the torso or head, the primary vital regions. Attacks to the limbs were inconvenient, but nothing their medic couldn’t handle. Only for Theta and Trent did Galahad extend the protection spell to include the arms instead- several mages used hand motions to help them concentrate and focus for spells.
The second spell bound to the bead was a communication spell, for the cases where their communication equipment didn’t work, they could utilize the communication spell to talk to each other. The bead would collect sounds from the wearer and project them through the other beads, like a walkie-talkie system. It also had a vocal trigger to mute and unmute. It wasn’t as efficient as their long range communication technology, but in a pinch it would do the job.
The last spell bound to the bead was more for Galahad’s usage than anyone else. When someone’s barrier spell was expended, it would trigger an alert on Galahad’s bead, allowing him to know who had been attacked, and subsequently restore their barrier when the conflict had ended.
The result of his spell weaving was a set of orbs no bigger than a pinky nail each. Galahad stuck his bead to the dogtags around his neck, before handing one off to Gideon and passing the rest out.
Trent grinned, staring at the back of his eye lids listening to the spell Galahad was weaving and enjoying the tones it made. Communication, protection and a relay of some sort that he couldn’t pin point. Getting them to mesh together made the notes sing out to Trent. This, was going to be interesting when he was “sent” to the front lines. Taking a bead when it was handed to him, eyes still closed, head still leaning against the truck, he stuck it under his own collar. His voice would catch enough for their group and leaving his hands open to do what he did best. Blow everything sky high. He passed them on to the next person without much looking at them.
Lee didn't have much of a response to Gideon's comments beyond shooting him a sour look. He was honestly thrown off by the sudden fiery event in the sky and was too mentally preoccupied trying to figure out what the hell was going on to come up with a snappy comeback. Though of course, once they all got on the truck and began to drive off to the crash site, he managed to think of something good, but it was too late by then so he just let out a huff as he folded his arms. It was almost uncharacteristic of him with how quiet he was, but he just seemed to be shocked. While no one had expected the firefight and crash to happen, to him it was just surreal to see it with his own eyes. This was the real thing, something he'd been training ten years for, and he didn't feel ready.
But really, that was his own fault. He never took any of the training seriously until recent years, and now he just felt unprepared. That wasn't to say he wouldn't act if the time called for it, but he there was a bout of anxiety dwelling deep in his chest. What probably worried him the most was that he wouldn't be able to step up if anyone needed him to, or that he would somehow screw something up.
He took a deep breath and slowly let it out. He was getting in his own head and freaking himself out, he needed to relax before he created some sort of self-fulfilling prophecy. He could handle this, he knew he could. Ready or not, he still had the skill to act and contribute. Maybe not to the extents that everyone else around him could, but he wouldn't let that stop him from doing what he could. If anyone needed backup, he'd be there. Mentally, he prepared himself to peer into the Mist in case a spell of his could be useful during this rescue mission. If necessary, he would even summon his weapons, though he hoped it wouldn't come to that.
Sometime during the ride, Galahad had created what could only be described as magic beads. Lee took one once he was handed one and attached it to his jacket's collar, making sure it was on securely before leaning back in his seat. He'd elected to sit in the back, figuring that despite being friends with Daryll, someone else would be better suited sitting up front, preferably someone who wasn't him that could react quickly if something was happening out on the road. Trent was sitting next to him, head leaned back and body language that said he didn't want to do anything at the moment. Lee hoped he would be ok in case things went south, Trent had drank almost as much as him, though possibly even more.
Trent couldn’t help it, but his hand patted Lee’s leg, right above the knee cap, “I’m fine, I can feel you staring.” He still kept his eyes closed, humming softly to the music only he could hear. “Setzer and Zimmy made sure I could handle my drinks when I DID go out.” He let the small conversation die and finally opened his eyes to look around when he felt the truck coming to a stop.
Lee looked over Trent patted his leg, and nodded in response. Right, Trent would be fine, there wasn't anything to worry about with him. He may be small, but Trent was more than capable of handling himself, he'd proven as much with his spell casting prowess during combat training situations. Lee still hadn't gotten over how such a small guy could hold so much power, but he should have known that looks could be deceiving.
The beads were better than nothing, at least. They were going in with what they had. When Darryl slowed the truck up and ground it to a halt., Gideon was over the side and onto his feet on the ground with a light pack over his shoulders. It was the basics of medical supplies and some gear, but they’d packed for a party. All the same, he knew this area well, better than the rest anyway, because it’d been a place he’d hunted and fished on throughout his childhood. Even so, it was dark and he didn’t want to use a flashlight.
There was a spell for that, or at least a trick he’d used before. He wasn’t a guy that had a lot of magical firepower to spare, but he was extremely creative with what he did have, and was good at the manipulation of light and images as well as terrain conditions. With the bead replicating communications and giving them some protection, the real missing element was vision. It was, again, like the Citadel and the malfunctioning equipment.
He reached into the Mist and pulled down a miniscule amount of power. That was Gideon’s way, use the minimal amount of power and sparingly. After all, magic was a finite resource, like petroleum, like a tree. He’d often wondered where it came from and if there was a way to renew or recreate it. No answers on that, of course, but it was an intriguing question.
The practical effect of the minimal magic use was to pull some of the ambient light in and use that light to illuminate vision for Gideon. The trick was making it so he could see out but that it wasn’t giving them away, and that was the subtle piece of business. Then again, subtle ‘did that happen?’ magic was Gideon’s stock in trade.
“Best I take point. I know where we’re going.”
Zimmy wasn’t much a fan of the whole “silent and grave” riding bit. Sure, she was as used to it as the rest of them: they had gone through hours and days of this kind of riding when training in the Citadel, but that didn’t mean she liked it.
Darryl was driving, though not very well, and Galahad was doing that thing with magic beads he liked so much, and Gideon was being subtle as always...they were all specialists, she reflected. Specialists who were expected to be good at everything, and better at a few things. No pressure or anything.
So it was with some relief that they all stopped and disembarked. This was something she could get behind. Literally. “Lee and I can take the back. We’re fast enough to get around in a pinch. Just in case someone is out there that shouldn’t be, you know.” She looked down at the little gun in her hand, checking to make sure it wouldn’t explode when she fired it. So far so good. “Any objections?”
Trent stretched his arms high as he once more exited the vehicle, he arched his back and tilted his head with a nice soft cracking noise, “Can we stay out of that thing for a while next time…” His grin was still in place but his eyes, which to that point had a mystified look to them, hardened. “I’ll go right in front of Lee and Zimmy. Galahad has the more versatile spells, mine are more of a packing punch.” With two swipes of his hand, left going from his right shoulder to left leg, right hand going from left shoulder to right leg he pulled his pistols out from the Mist. Checking them was like second nature, clips in, finger off the trigger but on the safety for a quick draw.
He held them aimed at the ground and looked around himself, “I think, after this we head back to the camp site, drink the rest of the booze and party like we planned…” Trent shot Zimmy a smile and a wink. “See if we have more stories of our ‘shenanigans’ before we all get moved to new places.” He walked forward a bit, bumped shoulders with Lee and grinned at the taller male. “Maybe get Darryll some driving lessons without lights whilst we’re at it.”
Lightening the mood was something Trent strived for, even when he was checking everyone over for jitters. Darryll had been concentrating on his driving and everyone was so silent he had wanted to speak but was working on getting his slightly addled brain back to the realm of functional that he wouldn’t screw this up. He’d let Gideon lead them, listen for Galahad’s warnings if he needed to pull on the Mist to do what he did best, keep Lee and Zimmy informed if needed. Watch Theta and Darryll’s back and enjoy Sezter going beast on whatever enemy cross his path.
“I’m starting to see why our instructors refused to put us all in the same team structors… remind me to have words with them when we get back.”
"Sounds like a plan," Lee agreed with Zimmy and Trent's formation suggestions, "I'm used to taking things on from the back anyway, it's usually my role in this kind of situation. Alright, let's do this." It took a few seconds, but eventually a frown formed on his face. "...Uh, w-wait. That came out wrong. Pretend I didn't say that." He turned to Zimmy as he tried to change the subject, "A-Anyway, I've got you covered. Let me know if you need a boost, I can hook you up. Same goes for the rest of you, as long as I can see you my spells will connect, so don't be afraid to ask."
He chuckled a bit when Trent rubbed shoulders with him and tried to lighten the mood. Even at the worst of times he was still trying to prevent everyone from becoming too grim.
"Man, if we can finish this quick enough to get back in time to drink our asses off, I'll die a happy man," Lee joked, "But, something tells me we won't be partying again any time soon." He looked back in the general direction of the crash. Right, they still had a job to do. "But, I'm totally up for getting Daryll some driving lessons."
Once the dispositions were shaken out, Gideon took the first, cautious steps off the road and into the woods, moving carefully and finding his way. Even with the enhanced vision, it was easy to misjudge. Everything was in a blue tint but he could see more. By the same token, it required focus. Walking point wasn’t just stomping around to run into something. It was about care taken in every step, watching for wires, sensing for danger in every way possible. Bad point men got wasted. Gideon did well in training, but that was training and this, it felt like, was a real life situation, full of unknowns.
Next step forward. A few more, and he found an old deer trail that they could use to get closer into the crash site. He weighed the risk of using the trail versus not, heaving to the drilled-in wisdom of forward reconnaissance, patrolling and pathfinding -- don’t fuck with trails. But that was in a combat situation, and that assumed that the enemy would lay in ambush along it. Here, he decided to break the rule, if only because they were technically still rescuing people, rather than trying to ambush them or avoid ambush.
They were in a tactical column, it was the easiest way to move quickly, but even that wasn’t fast, not by the standards of civilian hiking. But Gideon, by the standards of combat patrolling, was moving at a fair clip along, toward the burning parts of the royal hunting preserve...
@Draken@AlexStarsion@vietmyke@Mike73@Mercenary Lord@Hexaflexagon@McHaggis
4x Like
