FateWeaver — Roleplayer Guild

Team ROZE

Tuesday, Initiation - Somewhere in the Emerald Forest
@ryukan as Morgan Rouge
@FateWeaver as Orlan Price
@Thundercrash as Cyra Zylvan
@Marymalade as Eos Drosera

Two figures moved through the trees. One, the taller of the two, inspected the glimmering scarlet crystal in her hand, while the other silently trailed a few steps behind, bearing a shield on each arm. Sap clung to their clothes and hair in slowly drying amber stalactites, leaving darkened footprints behind them as they walked. One set of prints was normal, the other was not. Where one foot seemed typical, the other left a long furrow in the dirt, significantly larger than its pair, and producing a markedly uneven gait. 

“But really, that was amazing!” the taller girl called back over her shoulder, giving out a whoop. “The way you just...and...wow! They never saw it coming!” With the second stage of their mission complete, through various tribulations, the two partners now seemed to be on the road to victory, even if that road ran through a horrible Grimm-infested wilderness. Stumbling on her makeshift footwear, Eos righted herself and tossed the crystal she carried a few feet in the air and caught it. Her companion didn’t seem too talkative, which wasn’t something she was used to. Back home in Kiln, a degree of fraternal back-slapping and gentle ribbing on a daily basis was typical for interactions between apprentices, especially those on guard duty. 

Cyra kept her gaze firmly planted on the ground, pausing only to shake Lithos in a useless attempt to remove the layer of sap coating its surface. “I’m sticky.” Her clothes, all three layers, were soaked in the stuff, her hair was glued to the inner surface of her hood and the cloyingly sweet scent was nearly making her gag. Worse, it was starting to run down her back. It was going to take forever to get the stuff out of the cracks between her carapace, and she suspected that she was going to smell of the stuff for days. It had not been a good day.

“You think you’ve got it bad? Try getting sap out of feathers.” Eos retorted with a snort of laughter, headwings flapping as best they could while drenched with the vexing substance. “Actually, it’s not so bad. We’ve just gotta use oil to break the bonds. A good oil massage should have you right as rain, and the same for your...gun shield thingies. Different oils though, of course.” This incident reminded her of a similar situation back home, when a can of tar from a reroofing project had gotten dumped on her head. There was no saving her favorite barrette, and she lost a few pinfeathers, but the gentle ministrations of a local nurse had kept her plumage largely intact.

The simple thought of receiving a massage sent a rush of blood to Cyra’s cheeks, and she ducked her head lower. There was no way in hell that was going to happen. Silence followed the pair for a while longer, then she broke it. “Thanks for pulling me out of... you know.”

Orlan was stretching and twisting his back to ease the ache from it when his partner slid past, evidently coming straight from an encounter with the Alpha they had left behind. Morgan’s exuberant declaration of victory caused laughter to bubble in Orlan’s throat, a little on the hysterical side. Not only had they survived a deadly fight, they had come out with their prize in hand and minimal injury to show for it.

“Good work,” he said when the laughter finally died away, giving his partner a hefty slap on the back. They weren’t out of the woods yet, but it was undeniable that things were going well so far.

Grunting as Orlan slapped him across the back, Morgan pulled himself upright from the ground, wiping leaves and scattered detritus from his clothes, and joined his partner in a merry round of victorious mirth as the two rejoined company.

“They ought to make Grimm riding a sport,” he said. “It’s quite the experience.”

Raising forth the gleaming dust crystal from his clenched hand, Morgan held it up into the light so the two could get their first proper look of the prize they’d worked so hard to grab. The pair’s prize gleamed in the sunlight with the dull glow of your average dust crystal. Attractive, but quite a bit of trouble for such a small gem. He was still wondering how it’d even gotten itself lodged onto the alpha. Speaking of which, an angry howl from the distance reminded Morgan once more that the two of them were still caught in a grimm-filled forest of doom.

He cocked a confident grin over towards a mildly-bruised Orlan and Fortune’s Six folded and flipped back into its cutlass form.

“Right, we’ve secured the booty but I think I pissed it off a bit with that stunt of mine. You good to keep running? I think I saw a thicker copse ahead we can lose it in if we’re lucky.”

“Great,” Orlan said with a sarcastic roll of his eyes. “My partner for the next few years is an insane Grimm-riding pirate.” Now that they had the crystal, he was in much better spirits than he had been after picking himself up off the forest floor. The pain had reduced to a dull ache now, and he was sure that his back would have a nasty bruise when they were finally done.

“I can run, but I’m not looking forward to it. Hopefully we can find some help along the way, though I wouldn’t want to drag anyone into our mess. But if everyone’s headed to the same place, I’m sure that monster would get there with or without us,” he said, delaying them for a few more moments to better catch his breath. The ground had started to rumble again under their feet though, and the baying of the smaller Beowolves joined the bass howl of the Alpha. “Let’s get a move on then. No sense getting eaten on our first real day at Beacon.”

“I prefer the title ‘gutsy Grimm-riding badass,” Morgan shouted in reply, as he put action to word and started dashing again towards cover. “Mate, if it catches up I can slow it down again with another round of grimm-riding.”

Though Morgan had the feeling it wouldn’t be quite as easy the second time. In any case, if they could just get to thicker cover Morgan could use the tighter space and put his semblance to better use while Orlan retreated. His ability was better used when friendly-fire wasn’t as much of an issue, though given the Alpha’s persistence thus far he didn’t think he’d be able to do much more than slow it down without some time to set-up and plan.

The mad baying and snarls of their pursuers weren’t exactly a welcoming sound however. The two had managed to gain some space on them with the stunt earlier, but between Orlan being a little worse for wear and the fact the Alpha was just crashing through everything in its mad dash for the pair, it was still a close chase.

“We’ve been a real thorn,” he joked. “Maybe it’ll lose interest.”

The pack continued to chase the pair of Huntsmen-in-training deeper into the trees, but as they reached the thick copse, a few of the stragglers slowed and began sniffing the wind. A strong scent was carrying on the wind, pleasing to the nose. The snarls and growls of the pack slowly changed in tone, until eventually even the Alpha paused in its fury to investigate the air. 

Then, as one, the Beowolves turned and began closing on the source of the delicious scent. 

Cyra was contemplating on whether or not to investigate the full extent of her weapons’ condition when she bumped into her partner. She flinched a few steps away, then looked at the girl in confusion. “What is it?”

Eos had frozen in her sap-spotted tracks, lanky frame stiff in alert. “Ahead,” she hissed under her breath, “Maybe a dozen, I don’t know. A klick and a half downwind. We need to divert course, and fast. I can’t tell if...” She trailed off, squinting. The expression, coupled with the fierce shape of her nose, gave her the look of a bewildered eagle. 

Reaching for her thigh holster, the leather markedly more scratched and frayed than it had been when she’d gotten geared up for battle only hours earlier, Eos grasped and drew her weapon, extending its staff and bracing it against her shoulder. “Follow me! We need to confuse them!” she shot to her companion, as loudly as she dared, before darting off through the underbrush at a left 30 degree alteration in direction from their previous trajectory.

Cyra groaned as Eos left, jogging after her. Great, more running. This time, it didn’t take long for her to catch up to the other girl. “I don’t think we can hide from them.” She gestured to the giant claw strapped to Eos’s foot in place of her lost sandal, which was slowing her considerably as it threw off her gait. “Or run very far, not while you’re wearing that thing.” Her shields swung heavy on her arms, and occasionally a short string of sap would be flung from the edge to paint the ground behind her.

As she hobble-jogged at the best pace she could manage with one leg made two inches shorter by the difference in elevation of her left and right articles of footwear, Eos had to concede that the heavy weapons girl had a point. They weren’t likely to be able to outrun a pack of Grimm, especially not when encumbered by poor clothing conditions and drag-inducing liquids. The likelihood of their being able to hide, either, was even slimmer, considering that the two of them reeked like the inside of a caramel and taffy shop in a small seaside tourist area. “We’ve talked about this already and I’m not ditching The Claw. “It” got my shoe, and I got one back. That’s just nature’s justice, buddy.”

Pushing farther into the trees, she checked to make sure Cyra was still with her, or at least somewhere within hearing range. “Besides, my plan isn’t to run, and it’s not to hide. We’re getting behind those suckers, and then we’re bringing a few of these trees down, right on top of their ugly Grimm mugs. You with me?”

Cyra looked at the girl with a confused look. “Behind them? How are we going to do that? They’re following us, and I don’t think it could be easier for them to know where we are.” She glanced behind her. The howls were finally managing to filter through the plugs that had formed in her ears, and she hoped they would stop soon so that she could take the time to empty them.

Eos scowled, feeling frustration seeping in. Couldn’t her partner see that they were wasting precious time figuring out how to do something, instead of just doing it? She wasn’t used to taking calculated action, subscribing more to the “let the chips fall where they may” school of strategy. Things back in Kiln had always worked out for the best this way, even sticky incidents with raiding bandits and Grimm incursions.

“We’re just...we’re gonna get them! We’ve altered course now, and should be able to clip right in behind them! Then...wham! Tree time.” the lanky teen asserted emphatically, wobbling on her uneven footwear. Her features flickered into a semblance of her usual cocksure grin. 

Cyra bit her lip uncertainly, but continued to follow her partner. Her doubts about this plan were numerous, but by this point it was clear that Eos wasn’t all that interested in debating. She just hoped that she had thought this out more. 

The longer they ran, the more doubtful Cyra became. The sounds of the Beowolf pack continued to get closer, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that they were not going to be getting behind them. “I don’t... think... this is working. They sound... too close,” she panted.

While years of training with the town’s defense corps had given her a degree of running stamina, Eos could only hold out for so long under such sub-optimal conditions. She could feel a blister forming on one heel, and the unholy baying of the beasts that they pursued seemed to suggest that they themselves were the prey, and not the huntresses they aspired to become. “Look, we just...need to get a little...farther!” she gasped back in between breaths, steadying her grip on her weapon. 

Risking a glance back, she found to her horror that the beowolves had become visible to their rear, perhaps two or three minutes worth of running behind them. “Okay,” she conceded, “We probably can’t...get behind them...but we can still...bring down some trees! You ready...with that whole…”bringing down the house” thing you do, with the heavy artillery?” They wouldn’t quite have as much of an element of surprise, but sending a set of trees toppling over into the beowolves’ ranks would scatter the pack’s formation at the very least, and take down a few of the beasts with them, with any luck.

Grateful for the chance to stop, Cyra gulped down air, then turned and gazed doubtfully towards the pack. “I can try, but, I don’t know how effective it will be. These shells only go in a straight line.” Catching Eos’s semi-impatient, semi-worried expression, she braced herself and raised Khthon, making small finger movements. “But I’ll do the best I can.” The tines slowly extended and locked into place, and Cyra aimed as best she could. 

Glick.

Cyra blinked. Glick? She squeezed her fist a couple more times, and again nothing but the teeny wet sound issued from inside the shield. “No, no, nonono!”

Eos’ eyes widened, wings spreading and stiffening in response to her companion’s apparent predicament. “What is it? What’s gone wrong?” she asked frantically, leaning her back against a tree for a quick breather. She was more winded than she’d anticipated. Mom would be so disappointed, Eos considered glumly, but quickly suppressed the thought. If she and her teammate could pull through this, her mother would have every reason to be proud of her.

The beowolves were nearly upon them, the pack spread out in a fan-shape that seemed to threaten to split into a V formation, ensnaring the two aspiring hunters between them. “Whatever it is, can you fix it? I’m out of fire dust-based explosive projectiles, so I don’t think I can bring any trees down on my own.” Eos whispered, despite knowing the beasts were likely aware of her position. 

Cyra frantically tested each of her weapons’ systems. Lithos wouldn’t even shift into Assault mode, and Khthon’s machine guns didn’t respond at all. “The mechanisms must be stuck! I’d have to completely disassemble them to clean them out.” She tried Lithos’s guns, and nearly shot herself in the foot when a brief burst broke through, causing her to yelp. Nothing else would issue forth, and she gave Eos a somewhat accusatory look.

Sweat coursed down Eos’ face, sending streaks of improvised face paint flowing down her neck and collarbones. “I’m pretty good with repairing things, but I don’t think I’d be able to lend any help to the process under conditions like these. I guess...heh, I guess we’ve just gotta fight our way out of here the good old fashioned way: smacking things in the face until they stop coming at us.” She could feel Cyra’s eyes directing daggers at her, and felt a dart of indignation. It seemed unfair for her partner to blame her for their plan not succeeding, although the incident that had led to their gear and bodies being covered in a thick layer of viscous amber sap was probably at least 70% attributable to her.

“Just look at this as the warm-up round for the hackfest we’ve got to look forward to when we turn this crystal in!” she urged, rummaging in one of her satchels. The snarling sounds grew louder and louder, almost deafening, sending a primal chill down her spine. 

Cyra huffed a breath through her scarf, and once again attempted to sling some of the sap off her weapons. “A lot of good I’m going to be there if these don’t work,” she muttered under her breath, as she turned to face the oncoming Grimm.

Morgan peeked his head out of the coverage of a thick patch of bushes with a pair of leaf covered branches he’d been using for extra camouflage held aloft over his head. He’d been hoping they could lose their scent in the bushes while the Alpha was still getting up from Morgan’s last stunt.  As expected, the copse he’d sighted had made for fine cover and soon after the two huntsmen trainees had cleared the threshold the sound of baying beowolves had dissipated. However, the sound of the pack hadn’t actually disappeared…in fact he could still hear them barking and snarling in exactly the same savage fashion as they’d been while hot on their trail.

That could only mean a couple of things.

Tramping out of the bush Morgan looked around the now relatively quiet patch of forest as he tried to triangulate the exact location the pack had actually  moved off towards.

“Oi mate, I think we might’ve scuttled the pack on another team,” Morgan said turning back to his teammate.  “And judging by how effective our munitions were against that big bastard, I’m not sure they’re doing too well.”

Making his own way out of the undergrowth, Orlan brushed leaves out of his hair and off of his coat. Using Axios as a walking stick, he moves to Morgan’s side and stares off into the trees. The pack was certainly still chasing something, even if they were now being left alone. It didn’t sit well with him that others may be fighting their fight, and he rolled his shoulders and started forward.

“Well, we can’t let them have all the fun. Let’s get back into the fight, see if we can’t all come out of this alive,” he shouted as he started to run in the direction of the baying and snarling. “Get on high again, I’ll meet you there!”

Morgan flashed a cheerful grin in response, tightened the knot holding his scarlet bandanna in place and once again jettisoned himself into the air with his semblance.

“Reverse the plan from last time!” He shouted as he landed on a branch sending leaves flying everywhere. “I’ll cause mayhem and you take them from the aft.”

With that, another tentacle burst from the trunk of the tree and sent Morgan hurtling through the canopy towards the baying and howling pack. Sure enough, the snapping of the Beowolves weren’t too far off from where Morgan and Orlan had last left them nipping at their heels. 

As he burst out of the canopy another oak tree, Morgan caught a bird’s-eye view of the pack’s new prey. A pair of shield-bearing girls who looked like they’d just wandered through some kind of syrup bay. Both girls were bracing for battle behind a pair of shields, but the odds didn’t look good, especially with the Alpha in tow. He didn’t have too much time to assess the situation however, with the momentum of his last push beginning to flag, and mortal danger lying in wait below. 

It was time to act.

First, Morgan thought as he drew a pair of pistols from his arm holsters and switched them into cutlass form, let's get their attention.  Whipping his blades forward, Morgan dived towards the ground from above, and landed blade-first into one of the beowolves leading ahead of the pack with an audible crunch. 

When the sounds of the pack told Orlan he was getting close, he slowed down so he could draw closer and examine the situation without being seen. His partner had clearly been right, judging by the way the pack was bearing down on the sap-covered pair. They were clearly already having trouble, and the fight hadn’t even started yet. Last but not least, he spotted the airborne Morgan on his way down, blades flashing.

In the few seconds he had as the other Huntsman-to-be fell, Orlan dug through his mind for a plan. The main problem was clearly the Alpha; if it managed to actually hit someone it was going to hurt. It would be best to keep it moving, distract it before it can take a swing. With this in mind he dug a fistful of shells from his pouch. Selecting a cherry red one to load into Axios, he deposited the rest into the pockets of his coat. Preparing his weapon to fire, he pulls the pouch off of his belt with his left hand.

“Go big or go home...” he mutters to himself as he starts to close with the pack. Orlan planned to do as much damage as possible in one go, and between the girls and Morgan he had no problem getting close enough. He only hoped he could get there before his new friend got crushed by a giant forelimb.

“Fire in the hole!” Coming at the from the side, Orlan lobs his ammo pouch towards the rear of the pack and the Alpha’s back. Before the leather pack can descend among the beowolves, he puts both hands on Axios to let loose a burst of fire. As the flames envelope it the makeshift grenade explodes in a blast of shrapnel and ignited Dust.

The Alpha staggers forward from the weight of the blow before bellowing out a challenge and turning towards Orlan, who had taken cover behind Aegis. The few beowolves slow or unfortunate enough to be behind the behemoth had been reduced to shadows, while the creature’s size had protected Morgan and most of the others.
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