Norway – Skiafjell Peak Approach
Getting underway did not, unfortunately, mean a moment or two to relax. The snowcat's speed, the uneven terrain, and the sudden turns led to no small amount of jostling, forcing occupants to hold on for their dear lives as the driver vied to catch up to the other two. Still, some of the rift divers saw fit to shout over the dual roars of the engine and the wind. One of them, a man spotted by Marxion in the ski resort, raised his voice first, talking as if he'd been part of the conversation the whole time, when in fact this instance constituted his first actual association with Marxion's makeshift team. Understandably, this put the brawler off a touch. “Uh, don't take this the wrong way, but who the bloody hell are ya?” he questioned bluntly, eyebrows raised. While the man's demeanor seemed nice enough, something about him rubbed Marxion the wrong way. Maybe it was the two goons watching him like hawks and accompanying him closer than ticks, or perhaps the shotgun he brandished in extreme proximity. Did he recognize, maybe as a result of eavesdropping, the budding partnership between the golden-eyed men and want in? Thinking himself accepted was one hell of an assumption to make.
Soraya managed to install herself in the snowcat as well, somewhat to Marxion's chagrin. He wouldn't have been unhappy if she got left behind, and now -judging by what she said- she thought herself along for the ride, too? “You sure you ain't got too much class to 'ang around the likes of me, miss?” That woman who inexplicably agreed to Soraya's coercion sat nearby too, sour of expression but pretty of face and refreshingly quiet of demeanor. Her choice of words and weaponry suggested a strong, down-to-earth sort of attitude, which Marxion didn't mind working with. Still, more wasn't exactly merrier. But for better or worse, their fates were bound the moment she -and for that matter, the others- climbed aboard his snowcat.
After another few minutes of hurtling over the snow at high speed, the snowcat came around the edge of a slope overlooking a vast expanse of trees, and saw for the first time a rippling, otherworldly globe sitting atop a hill. “Ah,” Marxion observed, “There she is. Means it's just about go time, I reckon.” Getting up from his sitting position, he crouched on his seat and watched the other snowcats pointedly, tracking their movements as they got closer and closer to the rift. For one reason or another, they'd outpaced his own vehicle by a fair margin, meaning that his group would be the last through the wish. However, were one to look at Marxion's face, they'd notice him wearing a smug grin.
After one more curve, there lay only a relatively straight path ahead down a slight incline, with the rift another quarter-mile away. A few moments more, and the other snowcats reached its edge. Marxion saw them begin to slow down. “Our friends over there ain't playin' around,” he said aloud, still smiling. Holding up both hands, he pointed finger-guns and the opposing vehicles. “But neither'm I. Ba-bang!” He pulled the trigger, and all of a sudden the snowcats jerked backward at impossible speed, becoming vague blurs as they zoomed in reverse. In quick succession the blurs shotby, flying back, up, around, and down the mountain, with their baffled occupants inside. Hollering, Marxion turned around to watch him go, clapping his hands. “Bahahahah! Enjoy the resort, fellas!” Just like that, the opposition was gone—returned to where they started.
A moment later the snowcat ground to a halt beside the rift. In high spirits Marxion leaped out, clapping the driver on the shoulder before sauntering toward his goal. “Whoever it was that Prospector mentioned will lose time dealin' with those chumps,” he explained, “So we've got free reign in the rift.” Turning back briefly, he glanced at Edison, his escort, Reese, Soraya, Jules, and the three other random rift divers who'd also gotten into their snowcat. Their faces showed confusion, amusement, amazement, and excitement. They found him, meanwhile, incredulous. “Whats'a matter? No gratitude for me single 'andedly delivering you this rift?” With a smirk, he waved his hand. “Ah, s'alright. You'll thank me later.” Despite the substantial advantage afforded the group, they didn't have all the time in the world, and needed to get going sometime soon. Now, however, all that remained was to take a few steps, and set foot on the grand new frontier.
Inside the rift stood a great castle, majestic and imposing. The sight of it evoked a whistle from Marxion. “Now that's a pretty sight. Wonder what all's in there.” Reaching up, he tapped his temple, creating a Save Point on his skin. A brief yellow flash cooled down to leave a dark brown mark, a clock face with an 'X' across it. If anything went wrong, he could return to this state and this position. As a reminder in case it did, he then proceeded to draw an 'X' in the dirt before him with his shoe, a symbol he would see after a rewind and know meant that he loaded a save. When braving the unknown, one could never be too cautious; only then, with insurance, could one go wild and truly live in the thrill of the moment.
