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"Right, I guess we're just going to reassemble this golem. Can't believe I am wishing we had one of the mage quarter madmen here right now..." Of course, being on edge, Walker turned towards the direction he heard the sound from, easy to miss as it was, hands returning to rest on his concealed weapons as he scanned, dead still, even pausing his breath to strain his hearing just that slight much more. Letting out a slow exhale after he confirmed that nothing was about to jump them or come immediately barreling out of the woods, he glanced back over towards V as she was going about starting to help the golem. It seemed to register it's limbs were being handled, and started rattling off instructions before going into a loop again. That would have been all fine and well except for the sudden panicking man screaming about getting something off. Of course, Walker wasn't going to just wait and watch, both his hands filled with steel in the blink of an eye, dagger in the off hand and his arming sword in the right.

Panicking about being accosted by some...hand? Right, the golem's parts seemed to be scattered pretty far around the area, and the use of a rather compact handbow to send it reeling before the individual fled rather quickly. Resheathing his weapons as the man fled, Walker muttered out loud to no one in particular. "Handbows, useful until you have to reload the damn things. I'll keep watch for any more interlopers, sound off if you need any help with....whatever is going on under that tapestry." Walker wasn't keen on handling strange golem parts that seemed to be capable of self articulation and movement, leave that to someone who had a handle on the magic nonsense. It was an odd feeling being in deep woods like this, it reminded him of the early days of the invasion that felt like a lifetime ago at this point, when they were out at the edges of the city sprawl that was his former home. Even as his eyes warily scanned the surroundings and ears kept straining for the slightest indication of what might be approaching.

Normally one might be tempted to light up his pipe, something he sorely missed doing right now to be honest, but that wasn't a luxury Walker was willing to indulge right now. Tobacco smoke stood out in a place that wasn't terribly civilized, such as the woods, and would also leave a hand occupied and unable to draw weapons quickly while not providing any real benefit outside of soothing his nerves that, while frayed currently, would hold up still. He kept his back to the side of the cave entrance just in case a certain someone suddenly showed up again and stormed out, he would very much rather not be in the direct path of that one. Still, he figured that having someone on watch while V handled the golem was smarter than two people fiddling with sentient golem parts, doubly so with someone stumbling through the clearing long enough to demonstrate small, fast weapons were present before fleeing. Better to be ready for trouble, as best as he could be ready at least.
Kaath had either no further answers, or none further to share. Either way, there wasn't much he could do to force or even coerce that angle any further. Whether he felt fully inclined to believe or not was irrelevant, since it seemed that the combination of events finally managed to, at least briefly, push the gypsy over the edge, however briefly in her rage. Took a bit of doing, apparently, but it was good to know it was there, in a manner of speaking. Of course she began babbling on about, well, complete nonsense, which was what his life seemed to be now. Awakening, probably much like he had, to this Kite bombarding her with mental images, a second one showing up, the two fighting only for the first, the current he had to assume, to survive though badly injured. Perhaps that explained the lack of communication initially, going through whatever passed for a recovery period for Kite? Too many unknowns, but that wasn't going to change anytime soon and, frankly, he could only process so much mentally before needing a break. Of course Kaath flew into a rage all of her own again, though before Walker could decide either way, Kite seemed to resolve that problem in its own unique way.

The weapon seemed to drag and weigh itself down to the point of being unusable, though the way it clattered after the fact spoke that no such thing had changed. That would imply that Kaath instead had been weighed down to the point of appearing to be barely fit to move on ones own, let alone fight as viciously as he suspected the woman capable of. And, with a muttered word, was gone, the sword resting on the ground. Some unseen conversation had transpired between the two, though whatever Kite had questioned had clearly set the woman off. Well there goes that, the scoundrel mused as he removed a hand from under his cloak, having been resting on the dagger, and producing his pipe instead. "It doesn't feel like your lying, so either I've simply gone mad and this is the dying hallucinations of a broken corpse, or interestingly bad remains the course. Let's save the...psychic? Psychic images retelling for later, especially with the muscle now gone and us...."

Of course, Kite interrupted the meandering words of Walker with clinking fingers and a chiming bell, and once again the man found himself thoroughly disconcerted and thrown off his stride. Swirling wind and the burning away of...parchment he supposed, to a person, to a beast, burning away shadow only for the display to end and the sounds, and light, of the entrance opening up seemed to also smash pottery of some variety and a strange, new voice was heard. Kite glanced at them, deliberately avoiding the sword, and while Walker briefly considered it, there was no way he'd be able to put a weapon of that size to use, not properly. He wasn't one of the enforcer brutes after all. "As many questions as I have, more so now, seems the time for talk in here is done. No way to go but out of the cave, it seems..."

Walker would fall in step behind this Kite, unsure about the being as ever, pulling his cloak just a bit more securely around his shoulders before putting the pipe away, having simply fiddled with it idly while the last moments passed within the cave. He assumed that the fortune telling assassin would follow along as well, coming out into a rather green, bright forest. Well this was an interesting development, he hadn't seen a full forest since the first skirmishes at the edge of the old maps. It wasn't something he was exactly comfortable with, but compared to what had been going on, it was the most normal thing he'd seen yet and he would have accepted that if not for the voice and, well, boots wriggling on their own. Ok, so they had Kite, the fortune teller, now this...whatever it was trying to act as an escort after being smashed to pieces. A sentient golem of some variety? Walker was very thoroughly out of his element there.

"I'd say its unfortunate I'm no healer, but it doesn't look like that would do that voice any good. No blood, no bone, and far too clean of damage for anything flesh and blood. Right, I think whatever this is might be our second best bet, affiliated with our angry acquaintance from in there as they may be. Any ideas how to expedite the process besides just handling unknown golem components and hoping for the best? All assuming that the moment it has recovered it doesn't immediately set upon us..." Despite the claims of being hearing impaired, Walker was not keen on speaking terribly loudly, especially given this could all be just some ruse as he had openly mused. He had focused himself back on business, in spite of the fact he was very much wishing he could drink himself into a coma right now. Barring any better ideas or input, he would seriously consider at least trying to expedite this recovery process.





So that was that, for now, Veloce, with a flick of his wrist, compacted his weapon into its portable state, and hooked it onto his belt, though it was out of sight now given the hooks were on the back of his trousers. Returning his hands to his coat pockets, the easy going smile remained faintly in place while Boss chattered on about evaluations and such. Shortstop got the worst of it, figuratively speaking, the man continuing to drill that whole teamwork angle of a, well, team of huntsman! Not much to be said for Snipes or himself though, apparently, then again he wasn't exactly in a position most of that back and forth to really get stuck in proper so he wasn't going to sweat it too much. Boss probably would have plenty to chatter on about as things progressed. Better teamplay but work was needed on aura enhancement. Right, that, though he offered a light shrug and remarked as a whole now that the man was done on the evaluation part of the spiel. "I suppose that means Shortstop needs to not take 'stepping stones to greatness' quite as literally in the future, eh?"

Why'd they want to become Hunters? Well, now that was an interesting question and, despite his first gut instinct being 'lie through his teeth', of course Mr. Ego beat him to prattling on about power and something about the facts of life in this lovely waste they called home. Oh, and killing Grimm and seeing someplace that wasn't all sand all the time. Veloce grinned a bit at that remark, seems Mr. Ego really did double down on his general demeanor after all. Hated the idea of power coming from spiteful survival, but hated Grimm even more. Rather roundabout way of going 'gotta kick ALL the ass', but Veloce wasn't going to mince words about it. "What, you don't love what we have the most of? The fact its course, rough, and gets everywhere? Can't imagine not wanting to live with it all day!"

"Now, as for me, normally this would be the part where I spin some bullshit fairy tale story about how I was bailed out from bandits at a young age by a huntsman passing through, mentoring while he was around, and following in his footsteps since in spite of the folks thinking it was a damn fool venture. That the old man of a Huntsman had gone and left some young buck starry eyed and eager to take on the world. But, since Boss said no fairy tales or bullshit, I regret to inform you its true. Got bailed out by a Huntsman and I intend to make good on that, and give the folks back home something to chew on instead of their own disbelief." Veloce, of course, made the whole thing sound ridiculous given his tone, doubly so given the fact that Auron had flat out said no bullshit or stories, but left just enough of a tone of bemusement that the other huntsman to be could find it unbelievable and he was just being a ridiculous Faunus making a mild mockery of the whole song and dance again. He shot Auron a loose grin, telling the honest truth in spite of his tone and general demeanor, and closed with one more remark.

"Either way, this first day sure beats the hell out of that awful 'Introduce yourself and one interesting fact' song and dance, eh?"
Walker had not been deft enough to drag Kite out of the way, well, that wasn't entirely honest. Something was off, about all of this, even more so than a man far too deep in over his head already. Someone was lying, possibly multiple someones, well, frankly, pretty much all of them had to be lying at this point, to some degree. Either by omission, not filling in all the details, or more worryingly, flat out spinning a story. Between V, K, and now Kaath throwing out a line on the story being shite at V, the expression on the man's face was guarded once more as he analyzed the situation. Kaath couldn't get a hit in, not on Kite, nor on V when, he assumed, the formerly masked individual had gone and protected her as well. That put those two in their own corner, Kaath was in her own now as well, and that left him to decide loyalties now. And, frankly, if it wasn't for the fact he was a dead man if he didn't pick sides this would have been one of those 'far outside my pond' situations. "Right, things went from bad to interestingly bad rather quickly. Seems we've reached a crossroad of bullshit, as an old friend would put it."

The man's tone was as guarded as his expression, and the observant would note he was keeping everyone in his line of sight right now, which fortunately and unfortunately included the entrance. V and Kite knew something well beyond him, not surprising since the two of them were already in an understanding when he first came to. Kaath was seeing that something was wrong, and previous chatter had pretty much revealed that, well, this wasn't normal. This was very much not normal, and given the general abnormality thus far? Not normal by her standards was bad news. Of course, he couldn't exactly trust Kaath much more either, even given their prior interactions before the others awoke, but right now? He was finding himself more on her side than he was the ones that sprung him by sole virtue of the upfront honesty, as much as he read it at least.

"So! Way I'm seeing things right now, somethings off, way off, and that is coming from me. Kaath, you previously mentioned Kites, plural, and mentioned a whole gaggle of fantastical races coming through, some more conducive to helping than others, but something is getting increasingly desperate, first warning bell. Desperation means sloppy, and taking bigger risks with bending the rules, and that isn't even accounting for the fact that whatever this figure is can dispatch so many Kites. Secondly, that whole stunt with the...whatever the hell magic you call that, Kite. Third, in no particular order, the little get together itself. V, what the hell is going on? No more bullshit, when a native is calling you out for the shit your peddling smelling especially awful, it concerns a fellow. You were already up and moving with Kite when you sprung me, so that's Spite knows how much time to have gotten a story together." Despite the open suspicions of V and Kite, and their ulterior motives, Walker was not openly aggressive or even hostile. He was keeping a level head as best he could, as much as one could expect, metaphorically speaking, a drowning man with no land or help in sight to keep a calm head and not flail into the depths. Coupled with his memories prior to the...fucking nothingness that was the end of his home, and, well, even a patient man begins to lose his patience. Still, he couldn't afford to simply lash out, which meant doing some legwork and digging out what truth he could find.





With the other two closing in, Shortstop and Mr. Ego, Veloce couldn't just open up and expect not to at least clip one of them. Buckshot was a hell of a thing like that, so he kept monitoring for an opening. He hated sitting back, but with the pipe still in action even three of them engaging was no promise that they wouldn't get slapped about. He snorted in response to the mention of boomerangs being cool and cheaper than bullets. Well he couldn't just let that affront to his shotgun go unchallenged, and as Snipes put a round into the pipe and destroyed it, that was going to no doubt create just the opening he needed. He grinned as he flapped and dove in low and fast, only touching down scant inches from the bayonet getting buried into the side of their instructor and fired point blank, sending him hurdling and the Raven faunus straightened up, what could be charitably referred to as a shit eating grin on his face as he glanced over at Mr. Ego and racked the slide of his weapon in the sudden silence, disrupting it where the cheering and jeering had been before.

"And that, my sandy friend, is my humble rebuttal to your stance on boomerangs." Veloce began reloading while he watched the Boss get back up on one knee, the almost wheeze not lost on him as he casually reloaded, working the action again and loading one more shell and the easy smile remaining on his face, having gone from shit eating to generally enjoying himself. He reached up to give a half salute, half flick of the hat towards Snipes up on the overhang who had shot the pipe and overall created the chance for the rest of them to get in close and launch him as cleanly as they had. Well, he had, but he wasn't going to discount the fact the other two had been instrumental in making that gap happen. Good thing too, he'd been getting bored just looking for an opening and probably would have launched in before too long. Still, he addressed Auron now, having stepped forward to the fore of the group.

"So is this the part where you break out the real weapon and lay down the hurt Boss, or are we going to stop trying to not get the shit too harshly kicked out of us?" Veloce used his free hand to brush some of the dust off his coat, having gotten a thin coating from diving through the cloud he had kicked up earlier while addressing their instructor. Of course he couldn't be arsed to exactly use the terms dictated before, and he very well may end up paying for it, but he wasn't going to try and change who he was. He was also under no disillusion that the veteran Huntsman had been deliberately handicapping himself with a pipe and still could handle half of them attacking with relative ease. Still, it was a game of wait and see now, see what the Boss had in mind, mainly if they were still going to keep butting heads for the amusement of those present (and probably getting a feel for what each of them was capable of), or if the man had something else in mind now that they had reached a relative lull in the sparring.
Stukov wasn't exactly in a position to be able to really acknowledge or follow through with the orders to not fulfill his final duties to the Emperor. Coupled with the roar of battle, it was not exactly something he could also claim to have made out in detail. When it came down to it, however, the confusion that Cogs sing song response alongside the sonic weapon meant the Armsman was not ready for the barrage of Krak grenades to be launched, and apparently not enough time to actually warp Stukov clear of the blast radius. Imagine his surprise when the power armored figure of Celeste was blocking the blast, putting that equipment of hers to remarkable use protecting the injured man from the potential friendly fire. A glance past her confirmed the Spawn was far from dead and, if it wasn't for the fact that Celeste had snagged him, he would have engaged and gotten in low and fast to evade the impending second volley of quills, already ready to rage against the thing further in spite of being dragged away. However, the sudden silence was a dead giveaway of something else happening and arriving, and his head turned and tracked the only direction this could have come from.

Crimson and white armor, same design and style as Celeste's, unleashing powers against the Spawn abomination that had been so ready to riddle them with quills again. Stukov observed the continued assault literally rend the Spawn in two, no, not cut in two. Half was dumped into a portal and sealed away, he knew what those looked like, even controlled as it was by the sudden arrival of assistance. Said portal also explained how they got down here so fast as well, of course, but he still felt a twist in his gut at the sight of an opening to the Warp, as briefly as it was open, much as he did when Smiles brought him through her teleportation. Not as bad as that feeling, mind, and even less than the near loss of his old battleship. but the Spawn was finally dead. He leaned against the column, already unslinging his shotgun and starting to reload it one handed, the action slower than if he had two functioning arms. "Good timing is putting it mildly. Damnation is reloading one handed a pain, but at least this model at least can be fired one handed. Won't be accurate though..."

Maya, of course, seemed to have something else in mind as she walked over and almost removed her helmet. Stukov raised an eyebrow at the decision not to, looking the helmeted face dead in the eyes as she spoke about helping him and tending to his injuries. Of course he didn't exactly have time, nor the luxury, to disagree with being treated in such a manner, and the feeling of warmth was very strange indeed compared to the throbbing pain that had lingered after his hand was ruined. He heard the destroyed components of his naval pistol clatter to the ground as the quill was removed as well, and a huff of annoyance betrayed that he was not pleased with losing said weapon so soon. Once his arm was treated he would look down at his arm, warmth suffusing it, though his greatcoat and flak armor beneath was completely riddled with holes and damage. "Armsman, not a Guardsman. The assistance is appreciated either way Glow, and what other injuries? You already cleaned up the minor fact my arm was a pincushion."

"You got a point Smiles, that would have been a bet that I wouldn't have taken happening. And its armsman, not Guardsman, though I have a feeling you lot just like poking fun about that." Stukov chuckled as he shifted and exercised his healed arm cautiously, before glancing down and seeing the quill still embedded in the carapace chestplate, though that one hadn't managed to pierce flesh, so he got a firm grasp on it and, with a grunt, wrenched it clear and tossed it aside. Taking his shotgun in both hands and racking the slide, ready to move forward right behind Celeste, entering the fake governor's office. Of course, that wasn't his concern. The concern was the unholy fucking book that was sitting on the desk and, if he had a say in the matter, he would have seen it destroyed as soon as feasibly possible. Of course such a thing wasn't exactly an option given what was said so far, and Smiles sending a plume of vile smoke up into the air. The Armsman began searching around the office for something suitable to contain the book while Smiles directed a question at Cogs.

"Worst case scenario, we stuff it in a container you prepare with wards and I haul it out of here. If anyone can handle that exposure if the wards fail, I'd be willing to wager it's me. What's an abomination of a book compared to Gellar Field failure?" His tone made it patently clear it was not an option he relished or even particularly wanted to undertake, but was more putting it on the table for the group to consider. The last question wasn't so much hubris as it was grim realism, though he wasn't so brash as to just grab the book and stuff it into a sack. Still, searching the false office would be of dual use. One, find a container that would hold the accursed book as a container, and two, see what other, less glaringly obvious evidence was present. A thought came to mind and he spoke towards Celeste. "Right, questions aside, might want to check in with Sis. Seemed pretty urgent barring the Spawn situation we were dealing with."
"Swimmingly, as I've heard it put. Better than 'drowningly', I dare say." Walker shrugged, already intent on putting that little team huddle behind him, given that he wasn't keen on someone running around with the knowledge that V had. Then again, he'd agreed to it, so he would have to make that particular little divergence in plan work for him. As much of a plan as he had which was, right now, survive long enough to get a proper read on what was going on, and the more he learned, the less he could accurately pin down properly. All vagueness and oddities, even when straight answers were given, he knew some folk who would thrive on this whole song and dance. Emphasis on the past tense most likely, though a certain Kite reviving suddenly did bring everyone's attention back around. So with the mana being thoroughly burnt out, he was now wondering what had moved into its place? He was no magician or conjurer, but he had trouble naturally believing that someone would come back from beyond the brink like that.

"Not to my knowledge, V would know more and, given her comment already, well, that's the sound of someone suffocating, slowly. That mask isn't doing any favors anymore." Walker watched Kite closely, the sounds of, and the eventual movements, of struggle to ride themselves of the mask would produce with morbid attention. The draining color was...strange as well, and frankly reminded Walker of some of the Relics that ended up in the trade around Istvargrad, though this one would have been significantly more dangerous by virtue of it having apparently attempted to...adhere to Kite's face. The color situation was also a reminder he was most certainly nowhere even close to familiar territory, though eventually the mask was wrenched clear and seemed to be seeking a face before coming to rest naturally. Right, give that a wide berth, duly noted. Of course things couldn't just stay simple nor easy, given that Kaath decided to look at him, speaking in a tongue he didn't recognize, and began advancing with her sword readied. And of course V took offense to this, attempting to intercede. Great.

"V, if Kite burnt out completely we can't know how the recovery will look. More importantly, we don't know what they're saying. Kaath, looking to put that sword to use on Kite, or the mask they managed to ditch?" Walker knew a fight with Kaath, even in their current, slightly improved state, but they could possibly figure things out better. Survival wasn't always about doing the right thing, but the right thing to see another day. Still, his muscles tensed and prepared to move as quickly as he could muster if he had to drag Kite out of the way of an attack. He couldn't stop Kaath from making a move, not with a weapon that size, but he could make the target of said attack much harder to strike. He didn't know enough about Kaath's capabilities to guess, and probably wouldn't for some time, but he did feel obliged to at least make an effort on Kite's behalf before leaving them dangling in the wind, as the saying often went. If the mask was the target, or hell, the residue it left, that was another thing entirely.





"Just had to open your mouth, eh boy wond..ACK!" Veloce had tried to recover from the redirecting throw with a flap of the wings, but rather than taking the boomerang square in the back, in caught him by the legs and promptly sent him tumbling over and into the ground, picking himself up in time to see the whirling pipe after Mr. Ego over there. Proper stance, golden energy, same as the one on the pipe currently assaulting Mr. Ego. A quick scan before launching himself back in had the one kid up on some big piece of scrap, while Shortstop hadn't even engaged yet. Fast lunges would just keep getting him tossed around, and Auron didn't even need to wield a weapon to fight with it. Tricky, but he was practically grinning ear to ear as he readjusted his hat, time for something a bit more thoughtful instead of just mindlessly charging. And by more thoughtful, it meant advancing with another idea in mind. Mostly to make a low flyby, see what Shortstop had in mind and adapt from there.

"And here I thought this was going to be a boring first day of class, that's a clever trick right there! I'll have to remember it." Despite four to one being outclassed, it wasn't even remotely bothering Veloce. Meant this man knew what he was doing, and that was good, least after they were done getting the crap kicked out of them. As he spoke his wings flapped again, kicking up a dust storm via his semblance that intended to obscure the space between him and the Overseer. Unlike before, however, he wasn't just going to come barreling out of the dusty cloud trying to get thrown again, this time hurtling at a low ascending angle, no longer having the gauntlet and gladius out, instead carrying Mocking Bird in its ranged form, a bayoneted shotgun. He was cranking off shotgun blasts as fast as he could work the action as he did a low fly by from what would be the Overseer's left if he were to face Veloce head on. Since Mr. Ego had gotten launched, that meant no worries about friendly fire, and throwing someone into gunfire was a lot less easy than a slower moving boomerang. Boomerangs, really, they had guns for a reason!

The entire time he would be in the air he was watching for an opening to swoop in and strike, Veloce didn't exactly like just hanging back and firing off buckshot, and he doubted it would work terribly well in the long term. Even if he had to just move in and make his own opening, or prevent Mr. Ego or Shortstop from possibly getting the ever living crap kicked out of them by this 'nice pants', well, they were a team. Still, he wasn't keen on rushing in again until after the next attacks so he didn't get lobbed into another boomerang. "Oi, Mr. Ego, explain to me later why your throwing around a damn boomerang, yeah?!"





"Well this is just splendid, day one and already getting into a scrap. In a scrapyard no less, how fitting!" The faunus seemed far more pleased with the realization that his words made plainly clear, a loose grin resting on his face as crystal blue eyes scanned their surroundings first, before meeting the icy counterparts resting in that noggin of their overseer. Sir or overseer until proven, well that was no fun at all. Of course, during his scanning and bemused thoughts, the solitary lady of the four stepped forward, introducing herself as well as where she was from, while questioning whether or not they were all supposed to attack at once, or one at a time. Well, that left him with a wonderful opening to simply make his own move then, since she seemed determined to talk in spite of the figurative gauntlet thrown down. His own rather haphazard upbringing and training might show, but hell, what was learning without a few hard knocks along the way? He stretched while chattering as they would soon to find was the normal for him, remarking on her question as he reached behind him, apparently stretching still.

"Way I see it Shortstop, either way this should be a good showing. And after its all said and done, imagine if he had a real weapon. Name's Veloce Argenti, by the by, I'm sure we'll all just get along nice and swimmingly." With that, rather than wait for an answer on one by one versus as a group, the Raven faunus launched himself forward, the apparent stretch really having been to arm himself, metallic gauntlet over his left hand and forearm catching light as readily as the gladius in his right, using his wings and a touch of his Semblance to launch himself forward fast and low and cover ground faster than he could have simply running. He would be lunging with his sword while keeping half an eye on the pipe, though his focus would be on pressing the assault as much as possible, meaning that he would be putting that gauntlet to good use should an opening present itself. If they were meant to fight as a group, well, given Shortstop was flashing her guns, he could argue it would create an opening for her to open fire. Of course he couldn't keep his mouth shut as he launched forward, as was his want in life.

"Let's see how much hate we'll really need!"
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