TheAmishPirate

Fellowship: The Heart

The staff whipped back into Jackdaw's hands, and at her whisper grew to the size of a tent pole. She drove it into the ground behind them with both paws, bracing it and herself against Sasha's back.

"I - nghhh! - second the motion!" She shouted over the din of battle.

[Helping Coleman to offer Hope: That's now a 5 + 2 + 2 = 9]

Breathless Dead

Dolce helped Vasilia out of the muck, and breathed a quiet sigh of relief to see murder in her eyes. Murder was good. Murder meant she was unhurt, save for her pride. He could help that later-

And that was when the air split apart, and a terrible sound brought him to his knees. Loud, impossibly loud, threatening to tear him apart. His ears rang. His vision went white. All of it, a terrible harbinger of the world that slowly returned to focus.

The cat was gone. Long gone. Off to take Redana away from them, because they couldn’t stop her.

A man with a grim book and an aura to match stood over him. A priest of standing high enough to crush them beneath his god’s favor.

There was Alexa. Thunderbolt through her stone heart. Fallen, and not rising.

Here he was. A little sheep with a host of impossible jobs, and the doom of his dear friends should he fail.

“I say!”

Vasilia soared before him, one hand stretched out behind her. Expectantly. At once, he put his sword in her hand[1], and she swung out in a wide arc, catching the book’s chain and batting it away. Again and again she struck, keeping the dreadful book at arm’s reach, until one precise thrust caught the chain around her blade. The two of them pulled, book and duel hanging in the balance, neither giving an inch. “This is such a coincidence.” She flashed him a wild grin. “I’m going to need you to answer some questions too.”

...if they weren’t in a fight, he could have kissed her on the spot.

“Dolce! The Ceronians!”

Hrm? Oh! Yes. Yes of course. They had to stop Jas'o. That was the mission. That was...that was his job now. His only job. Wasn’t it nice, to have so much less to do? So much easier to focus. So much less to get distracted by. Just do his job, do it well, and all will be well. That was it. That was...all there was to it.

So. So he’d best get on it right away, and stop his dawdling.

Dolce disappeared into the underbrush without another word.

[Crossing Dolce’s sword off his gear, giving it to Vasilia. That’s a 9 on Keep Them Busy, Vasilia stays behind and they are now Working Alone.]

*****************************

Ceronian General!

What is your name, actually?

Whoever you are, you smell the cream-colored sheep long before you see him, which is approximately when he steps out from behind your next-door neighbor and bows low from the waist. You’ve heard of servants fading into the background until called for, but perhaps that wasn’t always a figure of speech. “Good sir, where may we find offerings to Zeus suitable for the occasion?” Even he couldn’t speak without a tremble in his voice. A big day for all of them. “Might I recommend spirits of triumph, brewed from the bounty of your harvest? They are a favorite of Lord Zeus’.”

You’re still not sure where this fellow came from, or why Jas'o might keep such an odd priest in his retinue, but it is a momentous day[2]. And it would be a foolish army that marched their way out of retirement without the proper offerings.

What do you do?

***

[1]: He was a professional, and they had practiced similar maneuvers dozens of times. He would not say if he still felt tempted to give her his hand instead of his sword. That was intelligence suitable only for his Captain.

[2]: If you tried to count the number of times a priest were to coincidentally appear on a day of great happenings, you’d run out of numbers before you were done. It’s a staple of theatre and song for a reason, you know.

Breathless Dead

The greatest traditions of the Starsong typically didn’t involve getting sidelined by a crashing shuttle bent on vehicular manslaughter, but most would chalk that up to opponents who weren’t trying hard enough. This one? Imperial as they were, this one was new.

Vasilia slowed to a halt just beyond the landing ramp. What greeted her was not the sight of another wave of phalanxes crashing down upon them, or the impossible workings of an esoteric to tilt the field of battle, but a single cat, collared and chained.

Definitely new.

She sheathed her glaive and drew her saber, adopting a fencer’s ready stance, which conveniently concealed her other hand as it drifted to her pistol. “You know, I think you’ve missed some of the finer points of arriving…” She paused pointedly to consider the garish wreck. ”Fashionably late?”

******************************************

Dolce emerged at Vasilia’s side, covering her as she exchanged gear and barbs. He tried to take in the shuttle, the sole member of the landing party, any alternate angles of approach, the forming Ceronians, his wife, a bit of the sky while he was at it, but there was just...it was the bells, you see. His eyes kept darting back to the bells. So many of them, all over her, on every limb. Impossible to move without a cacophony of ringing. What was she being punished for? Was sending her in alone a part of it? And if she was sent against them, then…

A terrible, aching pang echoed through his heart. And he hoped - oh, how he hoped he was wrong. That perhaps they could all leave together safely, and this cat could go home in glory, and that would be that. Shouldn’t he know of a god to pray to? Wasn’t there someone who could make it so?

But no names came to Dolce that day. No prayers passed his lips.

All he could do was stand beside Vasilia, and await the worst.

Breathless Dead

Vasilia bit back a stream of deeply unladylike and entirely appropriate expletive.

Did you know? Interrupting a prayer was the worst kind of poor manners; the kind that could get you smote or worse. Who are you, to knowingly interfere with the gods' conversation? The dealings of Olympus? Are you so bold as to assume that Athena does not wish to hear this prayer? Do you presume to make a decision for her?

Fine. Fine! This is how they were to fight, then. She flipped her glaive off of her back and twirled it to a ready position. “Back her up, as best as you can.” She ordered Galnius. “We’ll keep the phalanx from swallowing you up. Dolce?”

“With you.” His sword was already in his hand.

As one, the two of them darted from the shuttle, taking a wide arc through the surrounding orchards, behind fences and hedges, flitting from cover to cover as they made their approach.

Fellowship: The Heart

"Hey! Hey!"

Judgement's mighty sleeve gets the tugging of a lifetime.

"Can we experiment on that thing first?!" Using a paw to point would mean one less paw holding onto Ailee, and right now Jackdaw needed as many paws as possible (pawsible? is that a word?) holding onto Ailee. So she jerks her head furiously towards the Wreck, and oh no bad idea bad idea the dizziness nearly floors her all over again.

Fellowship: The Heart

The word is aughhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

That’s it. That’s all the words she has. If you want something better, ask someone better. The amount of things happening has only gotten more happening, which was the opposite of what she wanted. And now they’re sending the teachers back after her even though they kicked her out! Shouldn’t that mean no more homework? Shouldn’t it?!

So she did the one thing she knew how to do, that was - generally - good for emergencies like this one:

“Aileeeeee!” She stood up. Wobbled. Fell in the muck again. Pulled herself back up. “We need a way out, not more angry!!!”

Breathless Dead

“No. No. Stop that. On your feet, you’re going to put a crick in my neck.” Vasilia waved her up impatiently. “And no, it certainly does not please me. We’re too few to start making heroic sacrifices just yet. Besides, if the shuttles spread out their landings at all, you won’t stop more than one. Right now, all I’d like from all of you?”

She braced herself at the helm.

“Is to hang on.”

And sent the shuttle into a nosedive.

“Dolce, my dear?~” She sang out, knuckles white on the throttle. “Would you find us something dangerous?”

“There’s a boulder that’s not a boulder, at…” He blinked, staring through the foliage whipping against the viewscreen. “10 o’clock. Fifty five degrees portside.”

“Wonderful!” She cackled, and they were off. Flitting through the trees, engines burning as hot as they could, and buzzing creature after creature by a hands-breadth. By the time the sleepy monstrosities had gotten themselves upright, their shuttle was long gone, and all they could see were the Imperial shuttles high above, firing loudly and flying in a straight line.

[Rolling to Overcome the nonsense from the forest: 5 + 5 + 2 = 12]

Breathless Dead

“I had a poor first impression of your former king, and now I find him possessed by a burning need to outdo his own foolishness.” Vasilia remarked to Galnius. ”If they’re so bored that the only way they can entertain themselves is wasting ammunition, perhaps they ought to save us all the trouble and blast each other to smithereens. It’d be a more worthwhile target.” She sniffed indignantly; a touch so subtle, everyone in the room could hear it.

“They’re not trying to hit anything.” Beside her, Dolce cut through the quiet like an icy scalpel. “They’re shooting just to shoot.”

With every blast, he drew a little calmer. Stood a little more still. Beneath his snow-white coat[1] she could see the tension building. How each mark on this miraculous land tore at his heart. How his gaze pierced the shuttles ahead, straining to see how they could do such a thing? How could they be so cruel? How could they not see the wonder of this place? How? How? How?!

She rested a hand on his shoulder, and squeezed. Carefully, quietly, that no one but he and Aphrodite could tell, she pressed into his wrinkled vest and massaged gently. Soothing the aches of his heart. Pulling him back to the moment. Back to her. Do not fall into that abyss, my love. You will find only grief there. “And we will make them pay for their indiscretion,” she affirmed, and gave him one last, loving squeeze. “Now then; we have little time, and high odds. Galnius, if you have any insight into King Jas’o, now would be the time to share it.”

[Rolling to Look Closely: 5 + 4 + 1 = 10
-Tell me about the shuttles. How could they hurt me? How could they help me?
-Tell me about Jas’o. What are they doing? What will they do next?
-What will happen if we separate Jas’o from his soldiers? (Clarification: I know that Jas’o can’t be harmed or distracted when he’s surrounded by his soldiers, so I’m mainly looking at this from the other angle, getting the soldiers distracted, harmed, or otherwise out of the picture.)]

***

[1] How Dolce found the time and opportunity to clean his wool between the engine room and the hangar is a mystery best left to the scholars.

Fellowship: The Heart

How does she feel?

Her throat is burning up from the inside out. Every time she takes a breath, it’s a fight between coughing up a lung, and doubling up clutching at her bruised chest. She tastes sickness and acid and no amount of spitting will clear it away. She can’t wipe at her eyes because she already wiped at her mouth. Her paws reek. There’s...fighting? Somebody’s fighting? Coleman’s fighting, and she needs to get up. She’s soaked to the bone, she needs to dry her things. Ailee’s looking at her, and she needs to say something, and, and...

And just a moment ago, none of it was. And with each passing second, she loses hold of her peace, and cuts herself on familiar thoughts gripped tight. They needed somebody brave and strong and smart, and all that woke up was Jackdaw.

The word is lost. That is how she feels.

Numbly, she rummages through her cloak, and pulls out a short stick of polished wood, not much taller than her paw. She holds it close, and hoarsely whispers

“De...fend…”

At once, it sprung to life, growing several times in size and whipping through the air with a life of its own. It batters and prods at the Amalgamation, striving to keep it away from Coleman.

She already knew it wasn’t going to work. She didn’t need to see it fail.

But today was not a day for small mercies.

[Rolling to Keep It Busy: 4 + 1 + 1 = 6 It is a bad day for Jackdaw.]

Breathless Dead

Yes, yes, time is of the essence, is it not?

After all, you can only borrow so much.

With the fires out, and her uniform back to presentable, Captain Vasilia took the long, lonely march to the hangar at a fast walk.

****************************************************

From the depths of settling chaos, Dolce emerged.

His vest was horribly rumpled, and would no doubt take a good ironing to get back to its former glory. Not to mention a few washes to rid it of that smokey flavor. He stepped lightly, wary of any more of Ares’ surprises, and dutifully ignoring the litany of scrapes, bumps, and burns that covered him from head to toe.

Then, he spotted Alexa amid the wreckage, and dashed over without a second to lose.

“Oh! Your shield.” All splintered and wrecked! And hardly enough time to put it right. Oh dear, oh dear. “The next time we stop, it will be someplace we can fix it.” He assured her, patting her arm with a warm smile.