Location: Hillside, Great Beirklou Mountain Range, Southern Enverdolmal.
Time: High noon.
Mission: Emergency Wildlife Redirection.
Team: Eagle Talon, R.L.R.C. Mountain Region Team.
Captain Airyos Lindyntree.
Major Aramen Woodkin.
Sergeant Pinella Rue.
Lieutenant Hypernia Rahn.
Lieutenant Jadec Seer.
-
High above the snow-covered ground, Airyos stood near the end of the long, slender tree branch, acclimating his balance in micro-adjustments as needed as the cold winds shifted everything around him.
His cloak flared out to his right as the rolling winds and torrential rains that had once graced them began to fade into a light gust and accompanying drizzle.
To his left, Hypernia sat nonchalantly, her legs swaying slowly in the chilled breeze.
Her winterized cowl pulled low over her short, burgundy curls.
Her eyes locked on the lone figure who struggled up the stairs far below and to their left.
Next to Hypernia, and with his left shoulder pressed against the trunk of the tree that they all shared, stood Jadec with his arms crossed tightly over his thin, muscled chest.
Airyos had chosen these two of the four to join him, as they had the least experience with this sort of encounter, and he would have them gain some firsthand knowledge.
A mile or so to their rear, and just off the icy coast, sat their little ship, within which waited Aramin and Pinella.
If all went well, those two and their experimental long-ranged artillery trap wouldn't be needed.
A part of Airyos hoped that things would NOT go to plan, just to witness the wild contraption in action.
A very, very small part.
While he trusted both Aramin and Pinella with his life, he didn't know if he expressly trusted them with their own.
"S'when are we gunna chip in?"
Jadec asked, speaking around the sweetbark twig that he perpetually chewed, his patience the least cultivated of the group.
Hypernia answered before Airyos could, a fact that he actually didn't mind in the moment.
"You know just as well as we that the creature is to be put to the Rusaltide... Odds are, we aren't chipping in on anything... Not without a death warrant being painted on our backs."
She had said it with many more words than Airyos would have used, but her answer was just as good as his would have been.
The stalwart Captain followed up her statement.
"Atlas sent a War Monk. Should be here soon. Let 'em work."
Jadec bristled, and not from the effects of the cold air swirling around him.
He held his breath for a second, then released a long, thin stream of heated air between puckered lips; his eyes rolled back dramatically.
"Bah... More waiting, yeah? I hope he twists his ankle, or something... Been looking for a good trap. All we've had are soft targets; I need some action!"
Hypernia was as patient as they came, but Jadec's rash energy had a way of whittling down her reserves quite quickly.
Again, she spoke before her Captain could.
"You are dense, aren't you? That Monk will have all the fun, and we will have but a show of it... Don't get your hopes up."
Again, Airyos agreed.
Not as much about Jadec being dense, but nonetheless.
And again, Airyos followed up.
His left hand fell gently onto Jadec's right shoulder over the sitting woman's head.
He squeezed his long-term friend's shoulder beneath his hardened leather pauldron.
"Be calm, brother. Our presence is needed. Ashouka the First has willed it."
His rolling, rumbling words we of comfort to Jadec.
Airyos was rarely wrong, especially when it came to the Dragon Blessed.
As much as the hasty Elves' patience was wearing thin, it was rapidly being replaced with stubbornness.
"While I am not one to question Ashouka, I am not quite sure we were summoned here with a good enough reason to warrant five of us... Especially if we aren't meant to chip in."
This time Airyos spoke before Hypernia could.
"Mayhap our calling is different."
What that could be, not even Airyos could say at the moment, but his faith in his deity was full and complete.
Before either of his underlings could respond, a low, sharp whistling could be heard from somewhere off in the distance.
The three Elves craned their heads up and to their left in unison.
-
Likosplitz pushed on.
Another step.
The Scout Leader propelled himself forward with naught but his will to live and his need to forewarn his people.
His legs felt as if he were running under water; his muscles burned and protested against his every motion.
He was just over halfway there.
Another step.
He was so close.
The beast behind him was so much closer.
He could nearly smell its breath.
"C-come on, body! We are almost home!"
Another step.
He spat defiantly.
He was so close.
So very close.
From just a couple of yards ahead, he could finally hear the alarm bells ringing, and what sounded like wood sliding against wood.
Another step.
Good, the gate was closing.
His vision began to tunnel, darkness gathering at the edges of all that he could see.
Sweat drenched him from head to toe, and he struggled to catch his breath properly.
His lungs burned from the exertion.
Somehow he managed another step.
He looked up, his body shaking with every inch he willed it to move.
The gate was halfway down already.
They wouldn't wait for him.
He knew that.
He knew his role, and he was ready and willing to pay it.
"Sheesh... On my birthday, yeah? Oh, the irony..."
He must have been hallucinating, for suddenly he could hear what sounded like a low, high-pitched whistle coming from somewhere above his head.
Likosplitz took one last staggered step and stumbled forward onto his hands and knees on the cold, hard steps before him.
The frost-covered stone hissed as his hot sweat met its chilled surface.
He was spent.
He had nothing left.
He knew the thing would be upon him soon enough, and he was content with that, knowing that his death would stall the rampaging bear long enough for his people to get away behind the sealed gate if the War Monk failed to show up in time.
Liko could hear the bear closing in.
He spat on the bricks before him before rolling over to face his death proudly.
"Fack this... Fack that... and FACK YOU!"
He shouted as the massive beast's shadow fell over him.
All he could see in that split second were claws, and fur, and fangs, and...
Boots?
-
Vander ran on.
The War Monk propelled himself forward, amplifying his strides with short, sharp bursts of Aether from the soles of his feet, each step charring the ground before and behind him in great and bright flashes.
Behind him for half a mile stretched hundreds of steaming, glowing glass disks where once his feet had fallen.
His arms pumped in unison, helping him gain as much speed as he possibly could.
He would need every single bit of it for what he had in mind.
The bear's roar had shaken the invasive cold from his bones and sent torrents of adrenaline flooding throughout his system.
That adrenaline mixed into his Aether pool, amplifying his already considerable output.
Vander had precious little time to close the gap between himself and the rampaging beast, and he'd be damned if a bit of distance kept him from completing his mission of keeping safe the newly established mountain-side dorpie known as Hillside.
The people there were simple folk, yet wholesome and hardworking.
Vander had even started to take a liking to them after a handful of patrols about the place.
He forced a bit more Aether to his feet.
Before him, a cliff manifested.
One that he had foreseen and prepared for.
He knew he would need every bit of momentum that he could muster, and this was for what he would need it.
The cliff grew closer with each step, and with each step, Vander pushed himself just a bit harder.
This wasn't something that he did normally, but chaotic circumstances called for chaotic measures, and Vander was all for chaotic measures.
The more chaotic, in fact, the better.
As the cliff's edge approached, Vander gave his Aether one last surge of a push as he brought both arms tightly to his chest, bent both knees just before he ran out of space to run, and kicked off fiercely with both legs.
As he left the ground, he straightened his arms behind him and let loose a pair of powerful blasts from his outstretched palms, rocketing himself up and away from the jutting ledge.
The wind shot past him at stounding speeds as he soared through the air, effectively reducing his travel time to a fraction of what it would have been.
As he flew, he pursed his lips and let loose a high-pitched hunting whistle.
The sign that a War Monk had arrived.
The situation was about to heat up very, very quickly.
Just the way that Vander liked it.