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Rolan allowed Ser Gerard to say his piece as he listened and observed the fae hunter, noting that they were focusing back on their original goal for being here to begin with. His fellow knight had a better grasp on how to speak with and negotiate with the fae, his dealings with business prior to finding a place among the Knights was often hunting those who either broke the law or otherwise took advantage of those who could not protect themselves. Negotiating the restoration of a man's mind after unknown trespasses against some 'Moonlit Queen', even after earning an audience with 'his lady' as the fae hunter mentioned, was a bit further beyond his capabilities. Still, he had an obligation to see this through and he couldn't let his fellows left hanging in the breeze, as it were, and he stood, still carefully holding the two Aessyr. "Aithne, Enfys, we are about to depart. Would you prefer to rest longer, and come along, or do you have other preferences?"

Rolan did not intend to simply dump the two Aessyr on a flower or something and leave them to their devices, and given how slowly Enfys seemed to be recovering, perhaps a meeting with this Moonlit Queen would benefit them as well. Besides, having witnesses to the rescue efforts, doubly so when they had made no request for reward in return, might provide them some manner of consideration that would not otherwise exist. Assuming that very consideration wasn't being used to even gain a meeting with the Moonlit Queen, or however the hunter's Lady preferred to be addressed, but that was a bridge to be burned later. For now they had a destination, a way to progress the order's efforts in the area, though they would not be able to split any of their number off to go inform the bulk of their number. Assuming they were still, somehow, sitting idly in place entertaining a madman. Something he greatly doubted.

"Then we can depart immediately, if nothing else reporting this hunt concluded should not be postponed and I would not wish to keep your Lady waiting." Rolan hoped that Ser Gerard had some hidden savvy at negotiation, or perhaps Dame Yael or Ser Caulder might prove deft experts at such things. Otherwise he would have to rely on his experiences, and those were a massively far cry from dealing with the Fae. If he could, he would have surrendered his position here to allow Ser Fionn to take the forefront of the impending negotiations. Then again, if hope solved all the world's problems none of them would be needed for their martial prowess. He would have to carry this out to the best of his abilities, and handle the backlash of any missteps from there. By their combined efforts they might come up with a tenable agreement to free the Duke's mind from the grips of madness.

@HereComesTheSnow@VitaVitaAR
Mentally noting Ser Caulder as fine enough, Rolan was focusing his attention on the unconscious Aessyr in his grasp right now, gentle as he was being. It didn't take long to be joined by the one who had asked for their help, who was quick to try and rouse her friend rather than allowing him to continue getting the worst of the grime and ichor off the unconscious one, and a sinking feeling in his gut began to mount. Rousting someone unconscious was the realm of smelling salts and the like, but anything in his kit was meant for a fully grown adult. Even treating a child was easier since one could reasonably estimate how much to reduce a treatment by, but an Aessyr that literally fit into the palm of his hand? A few drops at most, which even then seemed excessive, and he was about to answer Ser Gerard's request for her condition negatively when she started waking up, almost missed due to how slight it was. "Seems she is coming to, fortunately."

Given he was preoccupied with the two Aessyr, Rolan had to let the others handle watching for trouble or something else coming into the clearing to investigate the sound of combat and noise. The tearful reunion going on in his hands made him feel a touch awkward, he never was one for wearing one's heart on their sleeve, and it kind of left him unable to respond quickly should something come up. He didn't have the lack of heart to interrupt the two Aessyr, however, not at this juncture when there was no overt threat, or even anything he could sense hiding in the underbrush. Of course he was wrong, but at the appearance of the clearly fae hunter, his instinct was to move one of his hands to his blades, or satchel, but given the circumstances he made no such move. The hunter could have struck any one of them down should he have wanted to, and casually wielding a great bow as he did meant that armor might not have put up as much of a fight as one might hope.

Tall, well built, incredibly underdressed but that could be overlooked given the whole 'being a fae' fact. His tone commanded presence in the woods they were currently in, addressing them as children of men and speaking that he was hunting the abomination they slew. Convenient that he didn't reveal himself until after his prey was dead, but he wasn't going to attempt to puzzle out the thought process of a fae. Possibly waiting to see how they collectively responded to the Aessyr fished from the remains of the Gannek in case they proved hostile to the fae overall as well, that made sense from a certain perspective. A shared enemy did not make for allies, and landing a killing shot when the fight was up close and pitched as it was took a steady hand. Doubly so when trying to not injure swallowed fae, so he did not question or even bring up the wait to reveal himself until after the hunt was done. "We did as we were asked, free the Aessyr from the thing's guts. Hunting the creature down in the process makes the woods better for all parties with a vested interest in it's health."

@VitaVitaAR@HereComesTheSnow
Lieutenant Commander Johann "Rhino" Von Brandt





"You know how it goes Vulture, we've made the mistake of being competent, so we get tossed headlong into it. No one's immune to it."

Johann had an easy going, friendly tone even as they were waiting to launch, though he did wince at the sheer volume of the FNG sounding off at full volume. FNG with bleeding edge tech, hope it kept him alive and well was all the consideration that he could afford for the kid. Lot of light to middle weights overall, something that suited him fine as far as possible tactics were concerned. Too much of any one thing left glaring weaknesses in such groups, even if none of them could appreciate standard issue. Wouldn't have gotten this far if any of them were, even the new blood's toy, and he kept relaxed as he waited patiently for his time to launch. Misfit sounded off last, another medium MAS pilot for the team but one that seemed like the perfect foil to the rather loud energy of the FNG, but they finally, at long last, got the green light to launch. Finally, even if it wasn't his preference of combat zones.

Rabbit and Hex went first, and it seemed the launch teams decided they wanted to get the Heavy MAS off the deck and out of the way. Decoupling fully from the Roanoke power grid, the far heavier tread of the Secutor locking into place made him mentally brace as he waited for the launch. He hated fighting in space, no proper orientation, no bracing against the ground, and the Secutor has been, at its most charitable, been described as 'a quite aerodynamic brick'. Even in space, maneuvering to evade was not the most practical strategy for him to employ. Fortunately, he didn't have to, and he was already preparing to fire off the thrusters the moment they sent the Secutor hurtling into the void, correcting his facing as soon as he was clear of the hanger, evaluating the situation as he got out of the way of the rest of his fellow pilots, moving as per protocol for the moment as to not entangle the remaining pilots in possible emergency maneuvers.

Ibara had been gutted by incoming fire and strike formations, MAS and more conventional craft alike, as a plasma shot rolled in to put the final blow into her, marking another casualty in the war, not much he could do for them. Pair of destroyers were working to try and make a run on the carrier, but their own compliments of MAS and fighters were in a losing battle as well, and too far away for Rhino to effectively cross the distance and engage. That left the 'front', quite a number of Fenrir II and, more concerningly, Sköllr Heavies, which could not be allowed to approach. The flanking Garmr squad was moving fast through the debris field to pincer them, while both Rabbit and Hex were already deploying to fight. Rabbit forming into a fighter configuration while Hex opened up and evaded missiles. Speaking of, system alarms alerted him of incoming ordinance, thrusters flaring to full life to evade the dumb fire, while several micro missiles from the Katar CIWS launched from his back shoulder, the smaller missiles darting out and causing the space between him and the debris field to light up with intercepted munitions detonating well and truly prematurely. Engaging the Sköllr units anywhere close was dangerous, but the debris field was too much cover to risk his limited 170mm ammunition.

"Vulture, Rhino, moving to intercept and tie down the main Coalition MAS force. Can't let those Sköllr get close." Having informed their leader of his plan, Rhino pushed the thruster to carry him increasingly towards the encroaching Coalition MAS units. Incoming fire from the 35mm autocannons was ignored, munitions that hit doing little more than scratching the paint of the dense, uparmored frame moving steadily towards the enemy. With his MAC-011 secured, he instead deployed the M81 out of the Secutor's right gauntlet instead. Tracking incoming targets, Rhino let loose a short burst of 30mm rounds, forcing the lead elements of the Coalition MAS units to either take cover or run the gauntlet of incoming fire. One Fenrir II was feeling bold, mistaking the Secutor's automatic fire for a Sentry's more modern assault autocannon perhaps. Breaking free of the debris field, more 35mm rounds deflected off the sloped armor that the Secutor boasted, and now that he had coaxed the Fenrir out of hiding, Rhino held nothing back.

The steady, shuddering barrage of 35mm ammunition steadily tore apart the Fenrir as it attempted to engage in evasive maneuvers, though it exposed its flight boosters which got torn apart by the Armor Piercing Incendiary rounds, taking out the bulk of its maneuverability and allowing the walking fire to tear apart the rest, sending it spiraling out of control back into the debris field. Dead or disabled, it didn't matter to Rhino as he began maneuvering the Secutor, screening his lesser armored allies from the encroaching bulk of the MAS forces. He would have to leave the flanking lights to another, but short of them trying to get into metaphorical knife fighting range and go for the joints, he was confident they had nothing that could do any lasting damage. His strategy was simple, block the Coalition forces, force them to engage him, and bring them out into strike range of his allied pilots.
Ser Gerard was practically deafening in his battlecry, moving deceptively fast to bring that blade around to finally rend the wretched thing's head clean from its shoulders, and Rolan would step back, narrowly avoiding the onrush of shadowed bile and ichor. The length of the cut seemed to have been more of a point of no return for the thing rather than the whole wound, watching the thing hemorrhage its insides out onto the ground. The utter lack of organs was unsettling, even as the gnawing hunger and pressing darkness vanished almost immediately. He kept his eyes on the dying, fading corpse of the Gannek as it withered away into nothing, half expecting one last desperate grasp at survival or, barring that, not going alone, but no it seemed well and truly dead, much to their collective good fortune. Glancing at the torch in his hand, it had sputtered out while the thing died, and once ensuring it wouldn't start a blaze, discarded the spent torch onto the ground. They had plenty of natural light to work with now, no need to start another improvised torch yet. He instead fetched a rag from his bag, cleaning the blade of his sword before sheathing it once more.

Scanning the guts and ichor, there was a lot of grim tidings. Bone fragments, chunks of...meat he would assume, but a first glance revealed nothing of the Aessyr. Rolan was about to comment on the matter when something caught his eye, a small figure in a pile of bile. Shoving his own distaste back, he stepped into the ichor and bile, squatting down to carefully fish the Aessyr out of the bile. Faded clothing, drooped wings, but the slight motions showed she was still breathing. Using the rag from before, he carefully began cleaning the black bile off the tiny figure. Dexterous and careful were two things Rolan could consider himself good at when it came to handling delicate things, he remembered more than his share of burns and injuries learning alchemy from being even a touch too heavy handed. Being careful now was practically second nature.

"Still breathing, fortunately for us. Hopefully once this bile is cleaned off she can begin recovering. How's your head Ser Caulder?" It was indeed a hope more than anything else that once the bile was gone she would recover naturally, or as naturally as a fae might. He was no expert on treating any of their kind, and while if needed he could likely come up with something to ease Ser Caulder's no doubt ringing head, waking the Aessyr would be another matter completely. If a simple clean and rest didn't sort matters out, they would have to ask her friend about restoring her health beyond simply being freed of the Gannek. As if calling that hunt simple did it any credit, but he would be putting the memory of the wretched thing and its hungry dark firmly in the past and out of mind if he could help it.

@VitaVitaAR@HereComesTheSnow
Seeing the wretched thing looking his way, at least for a fleeting moment, was a good thing as far as Rolan was concerned. It created openings, however brief, and true enough Ser Gerard took full advantage by turning the leverage into an impromptu stake, driven upwards with a seemingly unending well of strength to call upon in the face of the Gannek, no doubt an added bonus of their time spent preparing and training. All the more reason for him to continue honing himself, and that meant putting an end to this as soon as possible. The shadow was being driven back, ever so slightly, and it was enough for him. Something he had learned was that anyone could hide in the shadows, but it took a special kind of approach to hide in the light, something he was all too keen to take advantage of. Fortunately the staking motion would create such an opening, doubly so since it seemed no other member of their band was in a position to take advantage of it and finish opening the thing up.

Dame Yael was in no position to do so despite her best efforts, several legs of the Gannek quite stubbornly getting in the way of her deft hand finishing opening the thing up. He couldn't spare a glance, but given the continued lack of Ser Caulder, the blow had likely done a far greater number to his wits than his wellbeing. Rolan couldn't expect Ser Gerard to do all the work, which meant it was his turn to draw the things blood properly. Ducking in the right, he kept the torch between the thing's eyes and his own movements, a two fold approach. One to keep the darkness out of his way, and two, to keep its eyes and senses distracted from his precise movements, and it was finally time to put this sword to good use. A heavy, upwards slash aimed to strike right where Ser Caulder left off, and finish splitting the Gannek's guts out from throat to groin, and more importantly he was looking for any sign of the Aessyr that they were supposed to be freeing from the damned thing.

"Be ready to finish this on my word!" Rolan barked a brief warning to the others, eyes already scanning and straining to spot Aessyr in the mess of black ichor and spilling shadow. As much as part of his mind loathed the idea, the part that had been quite stubbornly ignored, he was ready to drop the sword and reach inside the thing to wrench the Aessyr out if it meant putting an end to this even just a bit quicker. He might have to replace his gloves after that if it came to pass, but that was a problem for the future. Right now, he focused solely on finishing gutting the thing in one last strike, free the Aessyr, and finally putting this damned Gannek to the torch.

@HereComesTheSnow@VitaVitaAR
Johann glanced at his hand, looking at the cards before eyeing up the others around the table they had set up out of the way. None of them were on duty right now, and with any taskings assigned to them between watches and sleep taken care of, they found a way to entertain themselves. A tale as old as time, playing cards and gambling, in this case poker. Johann preferred blackjack, it was easier to track numbers that way, but the rest of the group knew better than to play blackjack for anything other than fun around him. They had this little ring of gamblers set up for quite awhile, and he tossed a candy bar into the pot, drawing wary glances from the others. For their stakes, it was a large raise, but most of them matched it with varying items of value. Nothing monetary, it was a house rule among them, but valuable all the same. Grinning, he laid his cards out for all to see.

"Looks like this one is a full house, anyone got better?"

The general bickering and half hearted complaints around the makeshift table, a repurposed cargo crate, told Johann all he needed to know. His 'winnings', which included an untouched pack of smokes among a few different candy rations from various packs, were his to safely pack away for a rainy day. Mind you, said rainy day was to perk up one of the poor sods after a mission gone south, but they didn't need to know that. Taking another sip from the coffee cup, the deck was starting to be shuffled again while new talk of bets and the like resumed. It was a common pastime of his when not on duty, cleaning up at cards was far from a tricky thing, in fact it was something he was quite good at. The faces around the 'table' either didn't realize that, or did and hedged their bets to see the new blood get cleaned up. As the next hand was dealt, he glanced at his cards. Two of Spades, Six of Hearts, and he gave the assembled few a warm smile. The more seasoned among the group probably took that as a sign of a very sore beating they were about to get, metaphorically speaking, and Johann's voice practically dripped with anticipation. Of course it was all a massive bluff but given how previous hands had gone, they wouldn't believe that even if he told them.

"So, what's the call for this round, friendly or we starting another...."

"General Quarters, General Quarters. All hands to battle stations. I repeat: General Quarters. General Quarters..."

Johann tossed his hand in, the group scrambling in experienced movement, slamming back the rest of his coffee as he caught his helmet being tossed to him by one of the other card players. The duo, Johann and the technician who tossed him his helmet, took off at a brisk run, both heading for the hanger bay. Johann knew the drilled time to be ready to depart the moment General Quarters was called away, so they always set up their little gambling den within running distance of their stations. Dodging the other crew and pilots making their way to their own stations, regardless of where they were, was something that came with experience, and Johann was confident in his movements. He kept the way clear for the technician as well, both of them making good time to the hanger bay. From there, Johann was mounting up on his MAS, handily the largest machine in the hanger by no small margin, clambering into the cockpit and settling in as the technician down on the ground did final prelaunch checks before green lighting his end of things. Johann, for his part, strapped in and had his helmet sealed and in place, going through the motions with practiced speed. No needless rushing, of course, it wasn't like he was racing anyone else to the ready position, so he focused on making sure everything checked out as the information crawled across his various displays, the sound of munition storage whirring and systems priming a sound that would never get old.

> Confirming Pilot Assignment: LT CMDR JOHANN VON BRANDT_
> ...Pilot Confirmed
> Initializing systems...


"Oh they finally got my name spelled correctly, that's a drink I owe to admin, only took middle shelf to make that happen..."

> Reactor: Online_
> Life Support: Online_
> Shield Generator: Online_
> Weapon Systems: Online_


"Reflex Shield looks good, she was drawing more power than usual last drill, looks like the lines were patched to fix that."

> All Calibrations Complete
> All Systems Nominal
> Standby for Launch


Johann glanced at his watch, just at the 90 second mark as two of the other pilots started shouting and bickering. Lt. Laurent and Lt. Vess, seemed they had been racing each other to ready conditions. The back and forth would be amusing to let keep going longer, but he waited patiently for the two to make their reports before chiming in as well, pleasantly professional and, by comparison to Lt. Laurent, practically sedate but far too energetic to match the defeated Lt. Vess. "This is Rhino, pre launch checks are green, ready to deploy. Don't worry Hex, there is always next time to get yourself in ahead of Rabbit."

Comparing himself to the other MAS units prepared ahead of him, Johann wondered if it was worth doing the math to see if they got close to his tonnage after combining them into one. Probably not worth the effort, given it was patently obvious the roles each of them served would be vastly different no matter the details of the operation they were about to embark on. Glancing at his own readouts, he began double checking each of the reported statuses of his equipment and systems, especially since the amount of armor he had on his MAS, even compared to other like models, would strain lesser reactors. He kept an ear on the comm chatter while he fine tuned and tweaked even the minute, otherwise inconsequential load balancing and power distribution throughout his MAS systems. It was an old habit from being a test pilot, fine tuning even the smallest detail during down time to make sure the Secutor could handle the various systems loaded onto it for testing purposes. In this case, it wasn't for testing purposes but for combat, but that was fine either way. It gave him something to focus on while waiting for the brief and deployment.
Of course things would not be as easy as Rolan would have hoped, even with the combined efforts of the present knights.

Ser Caulder had struck true, supported by both Ser Gerard and Dame Yael's efforts to create an opening past the legs, though the beast had squirmed from a true gutting to a gaping wound. The fact it wasn't immediately stitching back together was proof enough that this would work, they just had to get the source of its meal free of its guts. However, Rolan narrowly ducked out of the way of the hurtling Ser Caulder, battered back violently by the retaliatory strike of the abomination, and he slung his crossbow as he grabbed a sturdy branch that was laying about. Nowhere near the practical trunk that Ser Gerard wielded, but he didn't need a bludgeon, not that he had the strength to put it to use. The pouring darkness and aching hunger would have, just a few weeks prior, driven him to flee. Hell, he wanted to still, but he could not afford to leave his betters struggling alone. Strength and agility were all fine and well, but that alone wouldn't cast back darkness. The hunger reminded him of just how much he loathed this thing's existence. It reminded him of the failed hunt, the poor harvest, famine's gaping maw seating itself as an unwelcome guest for another winter. He wouldn't allow that darkness, that hunger to set in, not again. Never again, and he was making something just for that darkness encroaching on them all. The previous fear was giving away to anger, a tight knot in his stomach that he stoked, something to occupy his mind from that gnawing hunger.

A swift slash of his dagger tore a long stretch of his cloak cleanly asunder, binding it around the branch before dousing it in half the ingredient's of his alchemist's fire, the component that burned so greedily, some of the records he read about the substance considered it almost unnatural. Nonsense, as both student and mentor agreed, but it would do in a pinch. Grabbing a small vial of prepared fire, the kind he would affix to a crossbow bolt before loosing into a formation, he closed his eyes tight as he dumped the erupting flames out of the vial onto the makeshift torch, fortune preserve him through this. The alchemical fire burned bright and loud, a roar consuming air and shadow alike as he opened his right eye, preferring to keep his dominant aiming eye shut in case he needed to shoot in a sudden darkness. He held the torch high, aiming to banish the billowing darkness coming from the ever mounting center of this unnatural, damned hunger. He drew his sword, not able to fire and reload a crossbow while holding a torch, and advanced on the Gannek to cover for Ser Caulder while he recovered.

"Come on you ugly bastard, all that hunger and darkness and for what?! Have a look at what all of that is worth!" Rolan moved to the flank of the Gannek, shouting a challenge at the thing to get its attention, to buy Dame Yael and Ser Gerard an opening. He would just have to hope they recognized the movement as just that, an attempt to provide them an opening. If it ignored him, he would go for the wound, hell he was going for it anyways, but if it was guarding against him, it couldn't guard against Dame Yael or Ser Gerard as readily. If he was lucky Ser Caulder would recover quickly and strike while the three of them fought to open the wound fully. The torch would, fortune willing, keep the darkness at bay long enough for them to bring the damn thing down once and for all.

@VitaVitaAR@HereComesTheSnow

Rolan had to consider what he had gotten himself into as he worked to reload his crossbow, practiced movements and muscle memory carrying where the metallic screeching of a wounded...thing rattled through his very being. Like metal on stone, not the rhythmic sound of a whetstone on blade, but like a heavy hunk of metal dragged across cobblestone. The other knights, at least outwardly, showed no fear in their assault on the abomination, Dame Yael's slender blade driving hands back while Ser Gerard drove a large branch into its maw, forcing it upwards and exposing it to Ser Caulder's axe. Well, should have been exposed, but the clasping 'feet' of the Gannek, as the thing was so named, seemed intent on not making matters easy. More concerningly, another grasping 'foot' reaching down for Ser Caulder's head. No, that was not to be allowed, as Rolan shouldered his crossbow again, firing his shot at the leg going for the knight's head, aiming to pin it back against the tree or, at least, far away from anyone. Rather than immediately reload, he slung the crossbow in one smooth motion, hunting knife being drawn as he rushed forward, ignoring the senses telling him to keep as far from the thing as he could.

Rolan knew the rate of fire he could sustain would not be enough to drive back all the hands, and with the others committed as they were, Ser Caulder would be stuck simply trying to muscle past the Gannek's unnatural strength. Dashing forward low and fast, hunting knife in hand, he ducked forward in a lunge, aiming to cut deeply enough to cripple one of the legs keeping the heavy axe at bay. The sensation of hunger was, he was convinced, even worse this close to the thing, and rather than stay close and start putting his knife to work, he pushed off his leading leg after delivering a, hopefully, effective thrust to one of the legs of the Gannek, in an effort to create distance once more. Once gutted, and trapped Aessyr freed, they had to kill it. The thing didn't care much for his bolts, the shot to the eye that had caught if off guard proved that much, but plenty of stories talked about how fire and the like would melt such things away. He had plenty of fire, and even some more acidic compounds should fire itself not be enough.

Rolan didn't trust himself to speak or bark anything out, not that anything needed said, teeth grit tight as he began reloading anew, having put himself several paces behind the fellow knights once again. He worked from a kneeling position now, able to brace his crossbow better for a faster load. He would watch for opportunities, not willing to waste shots when one well placed one might keep his fellows from getting grabbed or worse.

@VitaVitaAR@HereComesTheSnow
To (also) aid in helping folks see how a potential group is filling out, figured I'd get my lad posted up for folks to see as well.


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