[Act 3] Beyond the Doorway [Acrotomo]

--Wyld Hill--


Other than the unusual kneeling Warstrider and the Warstrider Archer, Broken Heron can clearly see the members of the Wyld Hunt assembled. Among the mortal archers and armored warriors, there are ten Dragon-Blooded.


On the hill, a particularly massive Earth Caste brushes the snow from his wide beard angrily. Get this under control dammit, we know they’re out there now. One of the bastards just hurled a tree at us using an Avalanche! Spotters, get me a damned target! The Urban Team had one of them sighted, have we triangulated a distance and direction yet? I want their location!!


A pair of Air Caste Dynasts in long blue robes, each wearing medallions with a symbol of an Eye on it, close their eyes and concentrate…


—Urban Team—


The aforementioned Urban Team, split now into two groups, begins receiving messages sent via Wind-Carried Words. The Fire Caste receiver of the team who had halted on the trail upon spotting Broken Heron jostles a comrade, who had been locked in deep meditation.


Ey, snap out of it Needles, tell us something useful already.


The Wood Caste in question eases out of an apparently difficult trance and glares at his comrade. Useful?! Certainly. My target is now standing on the left shoulder of one of our fabulously observant Warstriders… My guess is the Hollander, considering the fact that he was eyeballing the things’ cannon. He was holding something big, but I don’t know what.


The Fire Caste sighs, mentions something about ‘Nobody looks up these days’, and closes his eyes…


—Wyld Hill—


Back at the hill, the massive Earth Caste angles his head as if he’s listening to a distant sound, and then shrugs.


Bugger it, we lost em! Circle up on me men, get over here! Jillian Leth’terr, Stand Up!


From inside the helmet under Broken Heron's feet, a voice comes out... Aye, Sir.


To Broken Heron’s surprise, the strangle modeled Warstrider suddenly stands! Luckily for him, his enhanced ability to balance on even the most unstable of surfaces, (Graceful Crane Stance) wins through... He remains, completely unseen and motionless, standing on the head of the Warstrider.


The Earth Caste, watching from the corner of his eye, curses under his breath... I know he's there, but that didn't shake him...
 
Sapphire drives as best as she could and glances behind her, or tries to with the supplies being there it wasn't that easy. Still she did give a worried thought to the Dragonblooded. After all he was with the people. She shakes her head and attempts to keep up with Nkemdilim.
 
--Wyld Hill--


Broken Heron, now around 18 feet from the ground and with the Warstrider facing north toward his fleeing comrades, can only see what is in front of him. Below, he can hear the movements of the Wyld Hunt shifting about, and the voice of the massive Earth Caste barking orders at the mortals and fellow Dragon-Blooded.


That avalanche is setting us back, but a sighting is better than nothing. Gelnika is blocking any passage to the west, and I will bet that they are leaving Jacob's Peak behind.


His voice comes from a different direction as he moves among the troops below. Our prey heads north! We had a great plan here, and I'd like to hear an After-Action Review from every section! Town-Team is still working, so we'll save theirs for later, but let's go over what went wrong and what went right in the mean-time!


It appears as though the Wyld Hunt is remaining in this position for a moment, and will be talking about their plans...


--North of Camp--


The speed of the caravan is not so great that Lost Mountain and Miss Fang have to run to catch up. With their traps set, the two Exalts and their spirit and elemental partners have no trouble coming up behind Dexten Thaird's wagon. He looks over his shoulder to them and turns back quickly, perhaps embarrassed over his emotional defeat by Nkemdilim. Miss Fang's mortal followers appear to be coping well, and are on the road to recovery.


It is difficult to see any farther north, the pass is quickly becoming more narrow, and is beginning to twist. The gray stone of the mountains becomes pure white beyond, covered with snow. If the naturally darkening skies ahead are any indication, there will be a snowstorm soon, yet more distractions for the Wyld Hunt...
 
Nkemdilim glances back to see his comrades coming in behind them. He waves at them, then his brow furrows.


"Where is Broken Heron?" he shouts back to them.
 
Lost Mountain calls back Last I saw he was atop the hill, I assumed he would rejoin yall after the avalanche.....


His voice trailing off with the last word as he looks over the path of the avalanche and path it had created.
 
Nkemdilim follows the path of Lost Mountain's gaze.


"Heron is still alive!" he shouts back. "Have faith!" He waves for Alaura and Lost Mountain to come forward to talk to him.
 
Broken Heron


Standing on the top of the warstrider, surrounded by fierce enemies, Broken Heron struggles against the fear to maintain his cool.


A sweatdrop rides down his forehead, dives over the nose, tumbles around the lips and finally reaches down the chin.


Broken Heron breathes.


Would a sweatdrop fall invisible, or give me away?


The sweatdrop hesitates.


I am going to die.


As an reckless idiot, rather than a hero.


One, I did not study the battlefield, and gave away my position for nothing.


Two, I wasn't careful enough and sent the tree on a ramp that was too far.


My only comfort is that my recklessness will give the others time to escape...


I will never know if we Solars are saints or monsters.


And the wars...


The wars will continue.


Apparently, it won't be me the one that makes the difference.


There are so many things I wanted to...


Alianorah.


I am going to die, Al.


I'm sorry, you didn't deserve this.


Yet...


Yet, there is still one thing I am sure of.


There is only one way I could ever live, and it is this one.


Only those willing to take true risks will ever know true greatness.


If this is the way it will end so be it.


I have no regrets.


Let's shine for one last time.


The sweatdrop slowly dangles and grows; tempted by Earth, it clings to the skin, blinks and finally detatches, ready for its destiny.


From the top of the warstrider, Broken Heron explodes in a raging cry; pushing on the warstrider he jumps, slowly spinning in the air, reaching in one leap the left arm of the other warstrider; he leans down and claws the enormous bow with both hands.


As the warstrider pilot reacts to the threat, instinctively trying to shake him away, he pushes himself with the feet, hands firmly closed on the bow, and flips around the weapon, his boots quickly finding the string.


With a scream he stretches his body long, muscles grinding in pain, priming the bow.


It's just a heartbeat, when in its furious movement the arm aims the bow between the horizon and the zenith.


Let's see how far this thing can shoot!


Broken Heron lets the bow go as he shoots himself like an arrow, his body brutally accelerated up in the sky.
 
--Wyld Hill--


Amidst the furious swearing of the foiled Earth Caste and the scrambling of nearly 100 mortal soldiers, the Anathema prey of the Wyld Hunt flings off with supernatural speed into the clouds above. Propelled by the giant-sized Powerbow, Broken Heron disappears from the sight of the Wyld Hunt in mere seconds. He flies north, and though it is hard to tell, it seems that he has overshot the camp and Jorune's mountain. He hits the top of his arc in the air...
 
Miss Fang lands in the snow near the caravans slowly moving just after Lost Mountain has arrived.


Her elementals follow just after her. She's laughing at the brilliant madness of the avalanche as she takes control of one of the wagons.


That Heron is one crazy bastard... I like that !


Girls, continue digging holes while we escape, Jarod stick with stay alert to tell us when we will need to stop and fight... Let's roll people, once we're on the holy road, we will be safe... but we ain't there yet !
 
When Alaura takes over Dexten's wagon, Nkemdilim waves the Dragonblooded over.


"I doubt your compatriots will look kindly on your actions here. It might be best for you to stay with us for a while."
 
Sapphire felt a twinge of sorrow when the others arrived and Broken Heron wasn't with them. She didn't like it when people she knew were taken away. It wasn't that she really knew this Solar, but he seemed like a fair guy, it was tragic... Then Uncle Nkemdilim proclaims his survival and she sighs in relief, considering all of that hateful cold snow was just racing down the mountain she was sure a lot of things would be quite unhappy with life... or maybe they would be quite happy. Well depending if they survive it I guess, she thinks to herself as she prepares to drive again.
 
Dexten Thaird, stepping away from the wagon, is expressionless.


What you say is true, Solar. It is likely that I will be killed, maybe my family as well. What you have done here is the first major Solar Anathema event that I have ever heard of, and I doubt that the Empire would keep secret a successful Hunt, especially of your kind. They will attempt to make my... inaction, and the ensuing punishment, a grand example, a big show. My name will be reviled, and my children, if they are not executed, will forever regret their relation to me.


They live in Jacob's Peak, my wife and sons...


He looks to Nkemdilim, his eyes low. The words come up in his throat and stop there for a moment. There is a visible tightness in his neck, and his armor shifts as he breathes deeply. Even Sapphire and Miss Fang can see the pain in his heart as clear as day. What he says next takes a great deal of effort...


What should I do?
 
Miss Fang realizes the pain of the Dexten.


Tell them to leave town and meet you on the Holy Road, and come with us at least until you're far enough from imperial influence.


Once you're there, start a new life.


I can send my friend here to warn them... he'll get there in no time and will lead them back to us. she adds, patting at Jarod's large and furry neck.


Whatever your choice, make it quick... I have people under my responsability, but we can take care of your family !


***


no need for a presence roll, Alaura's not trying to force him to do anything, she's just offering him an option.
 
Dexten is crestfallen. He shrugs then, as if fate will make its decision no matter what he does.


If you Solars will allow me, I would like to... end our agreement. I will go to my family. The Wyld Hunt... they will do what they must to uphold the security and stability of Creation as they see fit. Such is their duty. Mine is to Jacob's Peak, and I should go to them.


He takes a doubting step back to the south... toward the Wyld Hunt. He looks in that direction, knowing that they are there, knowing that they are in Jacob's Peak, most likely looking for him already.
 
Lost Mountain turns and squares off to Dextren


I can see if in your eyes little man, all the people of Jacob's Peak are your family, they look to you for protection, that is why I shall not stop you from leaving. But hear this once, the unspeakable fathoms of my revenge will fall apon your family with more foracity than the entirty of the Rhealm could bring to muster, if I begin to think for one moment that this trust I grant you now has been forsaken.


A rumbling thunder of rage flows forth as the northerner speaks his words, Dextren can see it in his eyes and feel the strength of the mans voice rattle his very soul, this was no hollow threat.


As far as I'm concerned my dealings with you are complete, go be with you family.
 
Broken Heron


With a stretched, terrified scream the Eclipse impacts against the snow-covered top of a tall ridge, continuing his flight in a spray of snow on the other side.


Hurled on a descending slope at dazzling speed, blinded and confused by the snow and the pain, bouncing on the rocks beneath the snow, Broken Heron recovers a glimpse of control just in time to kick against the ground, deflecting his trajectory away from a protruding rock.


Bouncing again, spinning out of control, battered by ice and stone, he finally slams violently against the bottom of a wall cliff.


In the silence, consciousness resurfaces slowly, carried by an obtuse, numb sense of pain.


Breath.


Life.


Somehow alive, Broken Heron attempts a satisfied grin.


"Not today, apparently..."
 
Nkemdilim watches Dexten impassively as he walks away, then jumps down and walks next to Lost Mountain. He carefully pitches his voice so Dexten can barely hear him.


"Shoot him, he's seen too much. He might realize what the mortals were really for, and then he might warn Whitewall that we're coming."


His back to the Dragonblooded, Nkemdilim taps his shoulder while looking Lost Mountain in the eye.


Don't kill him he mouths.
 
--Dexten--


Dexten, only able to hear a few of the words, narrows his eyes. He isn't sure of what Nkemdilim had said, but he knows he doesn't like it. His body tenses slightly, and he fixes his gaze toward Nkemdilim and Lost Mountain.


If there are no issues, I will depart now. Farewell...


He steps away slowly, walking toward the last on his way south, out of the pass.


--Broken Heron--


Broken Heron's fall was not as hazardous as it could have been. Whatever powers exist, they saw to it that his final, catastrophic landing didn't end on the deadly spikes of rock or the sheets of ice, and had placed him in a friendly snowdrift. At the very bottom of a cone of death. Had he shifted one meter in any direction, he surely would be in separate pieces.

Code: 
Xarvh, Broken Heron only takes 4 levels of lethal damage, which can be soaked as normal.
 
Lost Mountain, watched Dextren walk away towards his home. At one hundred yards the northerner drew his bow and took careful aim. His aim had been true the arrow struck home high on the right shoulder, the wound would not be debilitating, but it would pain the man for many nights, a reminder to what the Solar had promissed.
 
Broken Heron


Not too far from there, Broken Heron still lays in the snow, assessing the damage as the pain stabilizes.


Toe sensitivity... check.


Femur... check.


Without moving the shoulder, he bends the elbow to lift and inspect the right hand.


Just a few scratches behind the snow.


He tries to move the shoulders.


Shoulders... check.


Waist... check.


Ribs... check.


Then, starting from the waist he checks carefully his back.


It's aching badly, a good sign.


For a moment, he still lays in the snow, puzzled.


Then, suddenly, he jumps high from prone, and with an energetic back flip lands back on the ground, directly in open guard position, legs open and elbows pressed at the sides, enjoying his muscles as they dampen the impact.


I'm the greatest badass f#¤%& of the valley!!! BWAHAHAHAHAH!!!


 
—Dexten Thaird’s Departure—


As the arrow digs deeply into Dexten’s shoulder, he simply stops. He stands there, the shaft of the arrow still shaking slightly from the impact, his fists clenched. Slowly, they unclench…


Does he realize the purpose for the arrow? Does he, in the back of his mind, understand the need for him to go back wounded? Perhaps he appreciates what the Solars just did, and that this one wound may have just saved his life, and the life of his family. Perhaps not.


Whatever Dexten understands, his long pause ends… He continues on his way, toward whatever fate has in store for him.


—The Pass—


The three wagons totter along through the pass. The occupants, those who are awake, finally have the chance to calm their breathing and their hearts. As the adrenaline fades, each, in their own way, reflects on what has passed. For whatever reason, each Solar was drawn to this one point in the North, drawn together, and put through several mind-numbingly dangerous and frightening experiences.


Now, with only the calm white snow and the narrowing pass to assault their senses, the Solars can rest and think.


The small grey specks of mountain goats can be seen above, nimbly leaping about and munching tufts of grass as they gaze sleepily at the caravan below. Miss Fang’s entourage, slowly recovering from their spiritual ordeal, sleep deeply. Only the possessed woman shifts slightly, her clouded eyes darting back and forth.


Jarod the spirit wolf leaps up into the rear caravan, curling up next to Nessa to keep her body warm. He had been wounded in the attack by the undead monstrosities, and after his harrowing encounter with the inconceivable being that was Jorune, is completely exhausted, physically and spiritually. The Mercury Ants, on the other hand, dart about excitedly in the pass, fascinated by the formation of stone and ice. After centuries of work in the deep warmth of the underground, the cold is foreign to them, as is its effect on stone and minerals.


The pass continues to narrow overhead, but it will not impede the progress of the wagons. There appear to be several humanoid tracks heading in the same direction the caravan moves in now, but further study will be needed to learn more.


ThePass-1.jpg
 
Broken Heron pats the snow away from his clothes, already soaked in snow anyway, and starts climbing upwards, hoping to locate the caravan.
 
--Broken Heron--


It's quite a climb to the top of this particular hole. Broken Heron had fallen in between two rather jagged ridges that likely would've shredded him. As he rises, seeking handholds and footholds in the frigid rock face, a curious mountain goat trots near, eyeing Broken Heron's progress. Perhaps it has some suggestions.


"Why don't you simply hop from rock to rock, mister human?"


Or so it seems to ask.
 
Eyebrow raised, Broken Heron looks at the goat.


Then he springs away, jumping to the other side of the crevasse and from there up over the ridge, falling with heel down on the goat's spine, that cracks loudly.


With a silent mumbling, he pays respect to the quarry, praying the way of the northern hunters.


Then he loads the animal on a shoulder and tries to look around for the caravan.

Used 6 personal and 3 peripheral for AM I.
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