|
It's a harrowing journey through the Hedge--by no means easy or quick. Teagan follows the invisible cord tethering them to the Armsmaster, leaving a trail for the others to follow. With June's powers they run through the Hedge at top speed, thick thorns scrapping and pulling at them--but they're too quick, too focused on their goal.
Deeper and deeper they go, green thorny vines and crumbling concrete streets give way to barren wasteland. The ground here is dry and brown, the trees dying husks. As they continue onward the landscape changes further. The ground becomes soaked here and there with blood, and the ground smolders, smoke billowing from old burns, old explosions. There's blackened pits here and there, chewed out by explosives, while the thorns are no longer just thorns, but twisted rusty barbed wire, perpetually dripping with fresh blood.
It is a battlefield. One that has seen the death and suffering of ages, of thousands, and stands as the threshold to a realm even worse--Le General's realm. All to familiar to Teagan.
Laura is not a subtle presence in the group, lightning crackling around her claws and fire sheathing over the armour she's clad in. The fury of Autumn is carried with her and she brings the storm to bear, eyes cautious as Direct Action steps onto the bloody battlefield and she braces herself, senses alert as she sticks close to her motley.
In spite of the lack of cover, Sturm does her best to act as forward scout for the group. She hangs off to the side, keeping a low profile, and attempting to keep eye peeled for trouble -- an her ears open for the sound of guns and artillery.
A scattering of little flame creatures -- four in total -- scamper around the members of the motley. Teagan -- with Oso at their side -- can be seen, as is necessary when people are, you know, following them. They have a shield of flame around them, keeping everyone back a step or three, and Baby's in their hand, the Hedgespun making them all the more prominent, the blade coated in flaming gel so everything is on fire.
It's worth nothing that Teagan doesn't look right, not really. The mirrored surface is gone, and their angular face is softened somewhat. Possibly weirdest is the presence of actual, human-looking hazel eyes. Such it is when Teagan is a Playmate.
They take a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "All right. We're clear on the plan?" A glance aside to Glitch, then. "Shit will go sideways, I know. But."
Fighting a ridiculously powerful enemy on its home turf doesn't sound like the best idea Sigrun has ever had, but it does make for the stuff of the sagas. So in that regard, she's totally on board. Enthusiastic, even, to put herself to the test in this manner. Even if it's ill-advised, foolhardy, and perhaps suicidal. She sticks out from the blasted landscape pretty dang well. Even though her armor is black, her face glows and she's surrounded by swirling globes of fire that dance about at random intervals. It's attention grabbing, and she knows it. Which may explain why her posture is straight and her shoulders are back; she radiates calm and confidence as a fixture on the battlefield. Maybe if she believes it hard enough, the enemy will too.
She comes to a halt, unsheathes her sword, and beats it three times against her shield to activate the token. It begins to glow with unearthly light, silver-blue rather like the moon. And the beating of weapon on shield serves as a challenge to all in ear shot, for that matter. Even if the enemy is, as yet, not apparent.
The Armsmaster towers above them--even Sturm, well over ten feet tall and very broad, an abomination of flesh and metal. Where his eyes should be, two half melted medals are embedded into his face. His torso is covered in mementos and tokens of war--more medals, bullets, twisted shrapnel from tanks and guns--all molded together to create a thick armor. His face is smeared with black soot and oil, his teeth black as he smiles wickedly at the Lost. Smoke wafts off of him constantly, as if an inferno were burning inside. One arm ends in one huge blade--nearly as long as June is tall, large enough that it drags the ground as he walks. The other arm is wreathed in gunpowder fire, crackling and popping, visible gun barrels lodged into his forearms.
But he's not alone. Surrounding him are five... creatures. Weapons? Machines? Stretched flesh and skin over gears, with wheels and tank treks instead of feet in some cases. Blades and guns are forged into their bodies, and they hobble and roll around with the screak of rusted machinery mixed with agonized screams. All gruesome and pieced together by violence, hate, and dead soldiers. (TW: Body Horror https://64.media.tumblr.com/a537a6371e28b76d5cadf8e4688060c6/tumblr_ofhd2yu0hg1uoz7nao1_1280.jpg )
Sturm splits off from the others, having to traveling a fair ways to get in a position where she's not going to be instantly noticed--but as the Armsmaster and his weapons focus on the others approaching, he doesn't appear to notice Sturm just yet.
Glitch doesn't offer any remarks on plans or the futility thereof. He's kitted for war like the rest of the motley, wrapped from head to toe in Sigrun's custom brigandine and the primal glory of white-hot flames. As the Armsmaster itself comes into view, his hand reaches for the handle of the sword on his back. "Ready," he beeps to Teagan, eyes locked on the hideous creature looming in front of them. "Let's kill this monster."
Honestly, it's probably by the grace of Winter's grace alone that Sturm -- clad in the rune-marked, obsidian plate armor that Sigrun painstakingly crafted for her -- is able to keep out of sight of the hideous creatures. That, and being far away from her family. She clenches her fists, the glowing stone of her active token thrums only barely in the desert sun, and she wraps around from her flanking position, looking for the best avenue of attack.
Sturm doesn't so much see a perfect way to attack, but as she looks around and creeps closer, she does notice that the ground around the Armsmaster looks disturbed--about ten meters out from where they're standing. She's fairly certain there's traps laid there.
Sturm holds up her hand, hoping to catch the attention of at least one of her party. If anybody notices, and turns to took? The Jotunn points at the ground at her feet, and then draws a single finger across her neck.
Laura nods at Teagan as they mention the plan, her eyes moving to Glitch briefly as her head dips to him. While she avoids speaking the plan out loud, she flashes him a savage grin. If this works, it's gonna give the Armsmaster a bad day.
Speaking of..
She fixes her gaze on the hulking figure in the distance, shoulders bunching before she starts to bellow out, her tone guttural with the battle to come, but seizing the chance before it's upon them. "I carry wisdom and power with me, and bring magic to bear. I am of Autumn and it stands with me as the hyena witch. You find yourself challenged by me, by us. Your efforts will fail, you will be laid bare and cast down. This is your end and we herald it!"
They've been watching the Armsmaster on and off for literally months at this point. Teagan takes one step forward from the motley, tips their chin up to Sturm's warning, and nods. Their face is a calm, smooth expression, and once Laura finishes her speech? Teagan raises Baby's flaming blade and traces the shape of a clock in the air, drawing stopped hands in the end. "Time's up, asshole." A glance aside to Glitch. "Now."
It's about that time, apparently. Time to fight.
The Armsmaster tips his head as Laura makes her speech, medal eyes gleaming in the distance, as if Laura were a curiosity... But he doesn't seem to be much of a talker. Smoke billows off of him more thickly, and his gun-barrel arm lifts towards the group...
Sigrun sheathes her sword while the others speachify, lifting her empty hand into the air and calling an invocation to the Goddess of the winter hunt, Skade. In short order, an ice-blue quiver hangs from her hip, bristling with crackling arrows of cold hard ice. She keeps her shield strapped to her arm as she unslings her longbow, cumbersome though that will prove, and nocks her first arrow, turning to the side and kicking at the ground to kick up the dust and test the wind. Once she's got a pretty good idea of what she's dealing with, she hauls back the string with a creak and tilts it up towards the sky. It's going to be a hail mary from this range-- more like a Hail Freya, really --but it's literally worth the shot.
The arm lifts, and before any of them can do anything else, a burst of bullets rips free--less bullets and more... more slags of bone and sharpnel, bits and pieces that have already seen death and suffering--but it lets out a loud BOOM BOOM that echoes around the battle field. Everyone manages to duck around them save for Glitch and Laura, who are torn into. (4L to you both--3L for Glitch and 1L for Laura, after armor.)
There's a large chunk of metal that Laura ripped off. It won't fully protect her, but would certainly help get some cover.
Those who are watching from affair get the horrifying sight of Teagan and Sturm being enveloped by the blast. A mushroom cloud of smoke, dirt, and flame billows upwards, the ground all around ripped up and exploding outwards.
Laura continues running, and manages to get out of the main blast area just in the nik of time--but still feels the searing heat and force at her back. (Laura, you're going to take 10 bashing--which puts you at 6L, 4B, I think--so roll Stamina to stay conscious.)
"STURM!" the others can hear Teagan scream -- they come out of Light-Shy as they run across the broken ground, a flaming machete in their hand -- "DIVE! DIVE!"
They land on top of her just before the blast, reshaping the Snowskin into a Helldiver; the change comes, as a Mountebank's Riddle-Kithing will, with the understanding of how to do that thing. Their body goes intangible, turning into living shadow. The massive breastplate drops out of the air.
Dropping to her knees as the edge of the blast hits her, Laura maintains her grip on Glitch, still shielding him and panting for breath and in pain as she wrenches her head towards the fire and smoke, voice hushed. "No.."
Sigrun remains too far away to be of much help as the fate of the mooks plays out in a predictably explosive manner. She picks up the pace now that doing so isn't a risk to her health and safety, and wisely begins running towards the imminent explosion. Largely because Laura and Glitch were caught by the blast, even if Teagan and Sturm may not have been. And Laura is closer. She shields her face with her shield as the shrapnel rains down, then resumes jogging towards the crater and her comrades. "Sound off! Everyone sound off!" Hopefully the lack of raining blue meat chunks means that all worked.
Sturm's entire life has been defined by pain, so -- even as the shrapnel rips through her armor and flesh, and she's thrown from her feet -- it's second nature to grit her teeth and keep moving. Always moving. Still equals dead. She barely has time to register as Teagan fucking lands atop her prone form, or the contract's activation when she feels her flesh twist.
Welp, she's never helldove before, but what better time to try than when you're going to die if you fail. She closes her eyes, and prays to whatever god is listening that she's going to be incorporeal when the blast goes off...
Teagan becomes incorporeal, but the blast still sears and tears through them. Harmlessly... but it's enough to bring back some bad, bad memories of war and destruction. Especially seeing Sturm's flesh so mangled and bloody--before it starts to dive, becoming translucent, protecting her body while the blast rips over and through the breastplate.(edited)
The smoke slowly starts to clear.
This is fine. This will definitely be fine. Teagan will not fall apart the second this is all over. The Mirrorskin staggers to their feet, still incorporeal, their belongings likewise incorporeal, outlined by the idea of flames. As the smoke clears, their silhouette, at least, can be seen, though they haven't the corporeality to sound off, yet, because they're not coming back to having a solid body until they're sure they're not about to be blown up on again.
Inside the crater where the minions once were, which Sturm and Teagan are on the edge of, there appears to be nothing left by sharpnel and bits of flesh. No more bombs to go off.
Wincing and yelping in pain, Laura carefully sets Glitch down, weakly dropping on her rear next to him, the smell of singed fur hanging in the air about her. A racking cough from the smoke before she calls out hoarsely towards Sigrun, eyes fixed on the area where Teagan and Sturm had been. "Here. We're both here."
The Armsmaster collapses into the hole, and Teagan sends their little servitors to attack him. They appear out of the shadows, a tall, lanky figure literally wreathed in fire like some sort of avenging angel swinging a flaming sword.
Except, this time, it's a flaming machete.
Sometimes there's a cool line to go with the murder of one's hated enemy who's been coming to drag you back to hell, but for all that Sigrun helped Teagan back from the brink, the usually-Mirrorskin is not well right now. The blade comes slicing down into his exposed head and throat, cleaving him in twain, and the whole time, Teagan is dead silent.
His body is in a hole on the edge of Le General's turf, bleeding, and the effluvia of their strike burns off of the edge of the Summer's blade.
Teagan spits on his corpse, and that is all.
A wave of ash, embers, smoke, and sparking gunpowder wafts out from him as he's split in two--giving him no time to say anything, barely any time to look up at the face of the assassin. There's just a split open empty husk left behind.
Well, not empty. The fire at his core abruptly starts to burn hotter and hotter, giving only a split-second of warning.
I assume everyone is ducking for cover?
Teagan does not duck for cover. They stand perfectly still -- and become insubstantial once more.
The pit does a decent job of muffling the majority of the blast--funneling it upwards rather than outwards. But it's still violent, and it leaves their ears ringing as dirt, rock, and sharpnel rains down around them.
Everyone takes 3 Bashing, unless you're insubstantial. Laura can body block Glitch if she wants so he avoids it.
Sigrun just lifts her shield a second time when the Armsmaster goes up like a fourth of July display gone horribly wrong, protecting her face and head from the falling shrapnel and debris. Once the pitter-patter of meat and metal abates, she lowers her shield again and peers over the side, down into the blackened charnel pit, verifies the deed is done, and glances about at her confederates. But for the final blast, Sigrun didn't real take any damage. And never actually hit anything, for that matter! She slings her bow, dismisses her remaining arrows, and brushes some grime and gore from the front of her armor. "I will let the Foreman know the Armsmaster won't be troubling them any longer."
The Playmate turns back toward Sigrun, coming back to themself, and to solidity, once more. Well, back to themself, sort of. Teagan grunts, letting their fiery mantle drop, and then turns away from the pit as if it doesn't matter at all, as if it were nothing. They pace over toward the breastplate, shoving at it with both hands. The thing is massive, the size of a person, and not that easy to maneuver; their gestures become increasingly -- very quickly -- almost frantic.
The breastplate is... pretty mangled from the explosions. But thankfully, lodged, half melted, and only barely identifiable as what it once was, is the cowboy and horse toy.
Glitch is protected from the explosions by Laura, the huge hyena cradling him like a tiny toy. When the dust and smoke has settled, he lifts his head up from her chest to peek around, and lightly hops down onto his feet. Laura slumps down into a sitting position to take a breath, and Glitch slowly leaves her after a moment, headed back towards the smoking crater and the massive conglomerate breastplate.(edited)
More and more frantic, Teagan flails at the breastplate, and when they spot the half-melted cowboy toy. They take Baby's edge, wedging it underneath the melted-in lead, and lever and lever until the thing comes away. The rest of it, apparently, can go to hell as far as the Mirrorskin is concerned; they drop to the ground, folding around the lump of lead, and as both of their hands wrap around the toy, Baby clatters to the earth.
It looks like there might have been more icons used to forge he armor, yes--but most of them are destroyed in the explosions. Sigrun does notice a war medal that isn't completely melted/misshapen. Looks like an icon.
Sigrun watches Teagan's frantic work on the breastplate and quirks her head to the side for a moment or two. She slings her shield on to its shoulder strap and settles it at her back, then slides down the face of the pit into the crater where the remains of the Armsmaster are to be found, breastplate and all. She tugs out her boot dagger and begins prying at perhaps the only other icon to survive the whole ordeal. It pops loose into her palm, looking like a battle honor of some description. She spits onto it and buffs it as much as she can with her gloves and on the hem of her tunic. Once it's cleaned up, she tucks it into her pouch and then gives Teagan's shoulder a pat or two. "We need to clear out. The General will know we destroyed its servant, and reinforcements may be coming."
Glitch takes a moment to stare down at what's left of the Armsmaster, after their combined might brought it low. He silently wanders over to Teagan in his armor, eyes hidden, gently putting a hand on their shoulder. Wordlessly letting them know he's there. He turns his head back to Sigrun and gives a firm nod.
Memories come flooding back, and spiraling out. Much like Sigrun's memories, knit with Sturm's, played out for the rest of the motley? It's Teagan's turn, now.
Childhood memories have a strange, soft-edged quality to them, no less so when the childhood is both your own – the end of your own childhood, abrogated by being sold off to a much older man. Everything that comes back to Teagan comes back soft-edged and gentle, even though the first thing that comes back is the screaming agony of childbirth. It passes quickly, that memory, like the shock to the eyes when lights come on in a dark room, there and then gone, leaving vague shadows on one’s vision.
The scent of a child’s scalp, clean and soft, and the soft babbling of toddler-speak. A hand that tugs on a long, black braid, and the squeak-squeak-squeak of little lead wheels on a cowboy toy, rolling back and forth on Sofia’s lap. Brightly-painted wheels on a navy blue broadcloath skirt, and the gentle weight of her child on her lap. A quiet moment, with sunlight splashing across their lap, and across the soft dark hair of their child. She presses her lips against the top of his head, and makes affirmative sounds every so often, agreeing with the story that the child who will be Bailey tells her in the incoherent babbling of a toddler. The words which are not yet words.
The weight of a child being carried on her hip while she sets a cast-iron pan on the stove. The wail of a small child having a nightmare. Climbing onto her child’s cot to pet soft black hair. The patpatpat of bare feet running up a hallway. The elaborate and delightful stories told by a small child holding up a cowboy toy over their head, explaining about Bass Reeves saving Oso and also a chicken from the yard from badness.
An infant sleeps in the crook of her arm; they lay together in the mid-afternoon, dozing on a quilt the color of the sun. The child’s cheek rests on her breast. A milk bubble bursts at the corner of their mouth.
In the middle of a life full of anger and hurt, something good. Something untainted. Something pure.
All is full of love, and in this, a simple proof:
There are some things he could never touch.
Please forgive Teagan if -- in the wake of all of that -- they only vaguely respond to Sigrun's touch. Everyone's lucky that Teagan isn't legitimately just falling over into a coma.
Glitch himself reels as the memory washes over all of them. He turns grimly to Sigrun afterwards. "Let's...let's get them up," he mutters, briefly sniffling under his helmet. "Teagan. Pick up b... your weapon. We have to go." Said gently, with a few more errant sniffs and pauses. The Sprite crouches to wrap an arm under the teary-eyed Playmate and help them to their feet, giving Sigrun the other arm.
Sigrun doesn't feel anything. Looks like the person it belonged to is gone.
Sigrun knows what it's like to recover an icon, and she knows that far off look that Teagan's acquired. She even gives Glitch a glance and a small 'it's okay' nod, to indicate Teagan should recover in a moment or two. And once she's convinced Teagan is back in the here and now, she just repeats herself. "We need to pull out. The General will know we won out here and may send out reinforcements. We should withdraw. I'll bring word to the Rivermen on my way out to meet the Kraklin. We've got wounded. We can't take another fight like this one."
The Sprite grimaces and nods. He stays kneeling there next to Teagan with his head bowed until they're ready to stand. His grip on their arm turns into a simple hug, eyes squeezed shut in sympathy, not able or choosing to hide the tears rolling down his cheeks. "We're here. We did it. You did it."(edited)
When Glitch helps Teagan up to their feet, they've got one hand holding tight to the icon, the other holding on to Baby. They're one of the few people not physically wounded, though their brain is wonderfully scrambled right now. All of their force of will has been restored, but their brain is a mess. They have enough wherewithal, though, even as Sigrun gently ushers everyone off toward home, to say: "Someone gotta tell -- " and then they stop, because they remember Bailey, but right now, perhaps, they can be forgiven for being stuck in the gulf between Bailey's deadname and Bailey's real name.
| 