To build a better mousetrap(N / C )

[Vladislav Zolnerowich]

Dark brown hair rustled gently in the breeze as Vladislav sat on his haunches, high up in the branches of a large tree. The guide's eyes were closed, and he had both palms out by his sides, turned upwards and waiting. He'd been sitting in that pose for hours, forked tongue occasionally flicking out and tasting the air of the deep forest. It was a good day for the hunt. The sun was as bright as it ever was, it's rays managing to even pierce the ever present canopy of the thick and overgrown trees of the Taiga in spots here and there, there was a cool breeze swaying through the trees, and Vlad had just finished guiding a group of outsiders to Novgorod. That usually meant there wouldn't be any business for a few days. Even with the few guides like him making sure that casualties when coming to and from the ancient Fae city were few and far between, not many enjoyed spending too much time in the dangerous Taiga if they could help it.

There.

The young man allowed the rest of his strings to disappear, concentrating on the one that had vibrated. His eyes snapped open, viewing the world upside down as he allowed himself to fall, hands already grabbing the bow on his back and one of the arrows in his quiver. Taking just a second to magically tie a quintet of newly created strings around his arrow, he shot it towards where he'd felt the vibrations, sending the other end of the thin rope he'd created to tie itself around the branch he'd leapt from.

From there he used his bow to slide along the zipline that was now extending between trees, kicking off of trees and branches that passed too close, and swaying out of the way of anything that tried to block his path. The trip was short, he could already see the bear that had stepped onto his web, and Vlad wasted no time by dropping from his makeshift zip line and notching another arrow. It flew before he hit the ground, lodging itself in the beast's eye and making it stagger backwards. Landing in a roll that took him under the creature's body, the young were snake used his momentum to bound up the tree just behind it, jumping off at the height of his fourth step against the rough bark.

At the apex of his jump he fired another arrow directly downwards, joining the first and this time fully piercing through the beast's thick skull, killing it instantly. He landed on a pair of strings laid out between trees and looked the falling beast over, trying to estimate how much he should keep for himself and how much he should trade off at the Novgorodian artisans.

"Well, no sense wasting time now, I should probably at least skin the poor thing first."

Jumping down from his perch, the guide slipped a knife from his haversack and put away his bow, beginning the delicate task of skinning the beast's thick coat of fur. Once that was done he removed as much meat as he could from the bones, and even removed many of the bones themselves. Many would be of use in carving out new arrowheads or other tools. What he couldn't salvage easily he left for the forest denizens, wrapping his cargo in the bear's skin and crafting a net of strings around it to keep the whole into a ball.

It took him the rest of the day to lug the heavy cargo back towards the edge of the forest, the young man taking his time and admiring the dark and threatening Taiga. The sun was already setting when he was done lowering his cargo down the trap door in the grass behind the abandoned and decrepit shack many thought was his home. Before he could follow it in, however, he caught sight something approaching from the west. No, not something... many somethings.

They had the sun directly behind them, so even Vlad's superior eyesight couldn't make out more than an indiscriminate amount of blurry shadows, but it was enough to have him on edge. Whenever someone suggested him as a guide, they usually had a carrier pigeon sent over to collect a referral fee. It was a simple system that he'd used pretty well so far. It not only gave him more business, but also allowed him to stay out of the bustling crowds unless he had to go buy things.

Now, though, the usual roost in the window was empty, and though it did occasionally happen that someone made their way to get his services without being referred, it wasn't usually near the night. No outsider enjoyed the thought of travelling the Taiga at night. His nervous mind was already spinning the possibilities around. "Maybe they paid whoever told them about me to keep quiet. Maybe they just straight out killed them... Or maybe they know I'm not human, and the army's finally come to kill me. " He thought was more unpleasant than the last, and though Vlad knew they weren't very likely, he still decided to lock the trap door with the words that would seal it for at least a day. The resistance had abandoned this hideout when they'd finished with the nearby slave camp dozens of years ago since it's placement gave it zero strategic use.

The enchantments they'd put in place to keep it hidden, however, were still very much active, and although activating the seals on the door made it impossible to enter or exit for a few days, even for whoever did the activating, Vlad didn't want to take any precautions. And if he was wrong, well, he'd just live off the forest for a week and return later.

Once his home was properly hidden away, the young man slipped into the decrepit shack from the back window, opening the front door once the visitors had come within earshot. "Hello there, travelers. Preparing for a midnight stroll?"

[Minor NPC]

The team of nine figures approached in a loose formation, not really one behind the other but still connected, moving as one mass. Their footsteps were close together, except for the odd straggler whose strides were broken by the nonuniform ground. They had on dark clothes themselves, and though there was a similarity in their military body armor, there was a mark of individuality about each one in clothes and symbols that said more mercenary than soldier. 

Guns, likewise, were unique to the bearers, featuring a wide spread that included one swordsman and what appeared to be a magic staff as well. If there were any non-humans among them though, it wasn't visible on the surface. The group was obviously well prepared and physically fit, readied for whatever was set to come ahead. 

"Hello there, travelers. Preparing for a midnight stroll?"

Thumbing the hilt of his weapon, the swordsman was the one to respond as he dragged his eyes slowly over the woods guide. 

"Something like that," he said, a slight grin exchanged with the others of his group. Slight chuckles led to a more full belly laugh from a large bodied, bearded rifle man in the back. "We hear you're the person to talk to, about midnight strolls. Would we have heard right, comrade?"

[Vladislav Zolnerowich]

Vlad eyed the nine newcomers, not liking his chances. Out in the open like this he was almost certain to get shot before being able to make a clean getaway, and fighting nine men without knowing what they were capable of was tantamount to suicide. He adjusted the sleeves of his form fitting shirt, wanting to be doubly certain that no one would see the marks on his arms if he had to use his magic. The less people knew about the visible effects of his skills, the better.

"Would we have heard right, Comrade?"

Spinning his tongue twice behind closed lips, Vlad carefully wrapped a string around the forked tip of his tongue, forcing the muscle to look more human like. It had taken him a while to learn how to talk normally like that, but better to talk slowly and clearly than to let anyone know he wasn't human, even if the less than round pupils in his eyes at least gave hint that he wasn't entirely 'taint free'. He smiled, thankful that the shadows already setting in around them would help hide the fact that it didn't exactly reach his eyes.

"You've heard right if you have the coin. Even someone as experienced as myself doesn't take to the woods lightly after dark, and the more customers there are, the harder it is to protect them from their own missteps." He said, taking mental inventory of his haversack. He had a few knives, some food, flint and steel, three smoke bombs he'd gathered from a foolishly fallen adventurer's freshly picked corpse... Enough to safely navigate the Taiga. Not enough to fight.

He'd just have to trust that they legitimately wanted simply hire his services. The thought left a sour taste in his mouth, but the were immediately focused his thoughts on their clothing, and from where the mercernary group might hail from. He had to be careful, he'd gotten in trouble before when a mage had read his thoughts and found something he hadn't liked. Thankfully, Vladislav was a champion at keeping his focus on multiple small details, so he filled his head with all kinds of observations about the mens' appearance.

"To Novgorod, then?"

[Minor NPC]

"Novgorod?" the swordsman looked surprised at the suggestion, then shook his head. "We have a different target in mind. Our employer is looking for a rare plant that grows in those woods, comrade. You may have heard of it: Koschei's Moonflower. By day, it looks identical to the normal Moonflower. By night, its blossom gives off a dark light, which is how we'll find identify it."

The swordsman shifted on his feet to look back at the rest of the crowd, as if to verify that the rest of them were still paying attention and not idling on some blade of grass. Of course one was, and a glance to the mercenary beside him saw the one getting a smack upside the back of his helmet. A shake of his head and eyes locking - meekly - with the swordsman saw his attention back on the important world.

"Like many magic plants, Koschei's Moonflower has certain magical properties our employer is willing to pay handsomely to get," the swordsman continued. "He hired us to make this journey, and I've been authorized to hire you. So yes. We have the coin. They say you're great at what you do and you know the forest well."

He reached slowly into his back pocket for a series of paper bills marked by the government, a few hundred dollars in worth.

"Consider this a consultant fee," the swordsman said as he put the bills out for Vlad to take hold. "What exactly are we up against?"

[Vladislav Zolnerowich]

The moment the swordsman had sounded surprised, Vlad knew this group was going to be trouble. If not that, then at least troubling. Still, it was a rather handsome fee for a job he hadn't even started yet. "Beasts of all manor thrive in the forest, especially so at night. Wolves, chimaeras, vampires... Not to mention the disgruntled and angry Fae that stalk the shadows. They can really hold a grudge... and I don't need to remind you that we're still occupying their beloved capital." he started, staying as calm as he could and taking in each member in turn. The distracted one would probably his best bet for a clean escape if it came to that... no, no keep focussed, no unnecessary thoughts needed here, at least until he had an inkling of their purpose.

"Considering that kind of danger, and I haven't even gotten to how incredibly lethal just approaching the plant can be, this finder's fee is hardly enough for a fifteen minute stroll, much less an expedition deep into the dangerous shadows to get a plant that'll just as likely kill us than allow itself to be harvested." Time to see just how committed they were to the cause. Who the employer was and what they wanted was pretty obvious. Someone wanted to use the magical venom as a weapon, but whoever got killed by it wasn't any skin off of -his- nose. He just wanted to make sure he was going to make these fellas pay through the nose for the incredible danger no matter who was procuring the death venom.

It was these particular thoughts that were interrupted by the clouds' parting, the brilliant light of the full moon lighting up the clearing. Vlad could feel his pupils narrow as his body reacted to it, his concentration suddenly pulled towards keeping calm and collected, to prevent any unwanted... change. "Ten times this amount , paid upfront, if you want me to guide you."

[Minor NPC]

The swordsman's eyes narrowed.

"Five times," he haggled, then sought to further explain the terms.

"Bruce will take care of harvesting the plant for us," he said while thumbing his free hand back at the staff-wielder. "The plant's toxin isn't a concern to us and it shouldn't be to you, so long as you do your job. Making sure we avoid the more overt dangers, that's what we'll pay you for. But we weren't born yesterday, comrade. We know well that we'll be playing on your turf."

"So we'll give you half now, and half when we get back here safe and sound. We'll leave behind two of our men here to wait for us until then, and in the mean time…" the swordsman glanced back again, and snapped his fingers. One of the riflemen gave a quick nod, and vanished. "In the mean time, Zachiel will report to our employer that we've made contact with you."

"So that's six to escort," the swordsman clarified. "Help us find the plant, Bruce gets us back here, you get paid. But we're hardly the helpless travelers you're used to. If we encounter any problems, we can all fight. Who knows. There might even be a bonus in it for you if we do. Chimera hide sells well."

[Vladislav Zolnerowich]

Well well well, these men were certainly prepared. Of course, Vladislav was certain that while the swordsman might not be 'helpless', but certainly wasn't as prepared as he thought he was. "Seven. One per head, myself included." He grunted, rubbing the bridge of his nose. Normally he'd be haggling more, maybe even adding in a bit of humor to ease the tension... but he was having a hard enough time concentrating on the string tied around his tongue.

"Wait here while I get my gear." he added, not even waiting for a counter offer as he turned towards the small shack and went inside. As he inspected his haversack and added a few things here and there from little hidden stashes around the dilapidated hovel, he continued. "You certainly aren't finding someone else to guide you through that forest, not tonight, and I'm not going any lower. Believe me when I tell you, oh gracious customers, that a bitter guide can be worse than no guide at all."

[Minor NPC]

"Seven. One per head, myself included. Wait here while I get my gear," the guide said, obviously ruffled already. The mercenaries waited patiently, muttering a few things to themselves in the meantime. The suspicious swordsman - or was it just paranoid - did a quick calculation in his head.

"You certainly aren't finding someone else to guide you through that forest, not tonight," the forest traveler practically complained, "And I'm not going any lower. Believe me when I tell you, oh gracious customers, that a bitter guide can be worse than no guide at all."

"Seven times is fine. Half now, half later," the swordsman replied, his own expression darkening at the attitude, and the thinly veiled threat. "No belief necessary, 'oh ungracious guide.' Zachiel and our employer knows we made contact. If we end up dead, and you don't, they'll just spread the word about how poor a job you did. So the next time it strikes you as a good idea to get us in trouble or to make threats at us, kindly remember not to bite the hand that feeds you, comrade. That's just bad business. But if you don't want our business? Fine. We'll leave and take our money with us. 'Bitter guides' and all."

[Vladislav Zolnerowich]

The reaction time for the palm that smacked into his forehead was much too short for Vlad's liking. It meant he'd been expecting such an answer, and -that- meant that he could have stopped himself from putting his foot in his mouth in the first place. He grimaced and took a few deep breaths to calm his inner turmoil before heading back outside, a smile plastered onto his unhappy face.

"Pardon my jab, it was in poor taste. Truth is, if something manages to sneak up on us, I'll probably be the first one to have my head separated from my body. And I very much would like to keep that from happening." He explained, looking over the lot of them and appraising them. "Swordguy, you're on point with this me. You're on the left, you there, you're on the right. Stickman, you get to be the middle of the formation, try to keep half an eye in all directions, and for the last two, you've got the rear. Try not to get eaten , and if you do, at least shout or something." He said, pointing to each mercenary in turn.

"Of course, I'll be running up front often enough to scout, and I'll do my best to know of any threat long before you might notice them... but I'd rather you're ready to fight, just in case something slips by. The biggest danger is Fae. If they're out hunting and get a whiff of a whole group of humans sidling through their woods, they'll throw all they got at us. "

[Minor NPC]

"Pardon my jab, it was in poor taste. Truth is, if something manages to sneak up on us, I'll probably be the first one to have my head separated from my body. And I very much would like to keep that from happening."

The leader took another moment to observe him in turn, before giving a small grunt of acknowledgement at the apology. He changed the topic of the conversation back to business matters by asking, "How do you want to do this, comrade?"

"Swordguy, you're on point with this me," the guide stated.

He gave another grunt, then said, "Agreed."

"You're on the left, you there, you're on the right. Stickman, you get to be the middle of the formation, try to keep half an eye in all directions, and for the last two, you've got the rear. Try not to get eaten, and if you do, at least shout or something."

Each one of the troop gave a nod or a single word of affirmation as they were called out, adjusting enough to get in the quickly made formation.

"Of course, I'll be running up front often enough to scout, and I'll do my best to know of any threat long before you might notice them... but I'd rather you're ready to fight, just in case something slips by."

"Seconded," the swordsman agreed.

"The biggest danger is Fae. If they're out hunting and get a whiff of a whole group of humans sidling through their woods, they'll throw all they got at us."

"So the rumors warn," he acknowledged, then nodded back in the direction of the wizard. "'Stickman's' wards will hopefully be able to cloak us from detection spells, but plain sight is plain sight. How soon should we head out, comrade?"

[Vladislav Zolnerowich]

Well, at least they weren't taking any issues with his authority. The question at the end, however, made him chuckle. "Blade, if we get anywhere near them we'll be spotted no matter how well we hide. Our best bet to make good progress and count on our lucky stars. Heat vision, magic vision... you name it, the fae's scouts usually have it. We should go as soon as we can while the moon is bright, to give -us- a better chance at spotting anything that knows we're in there. "

That, and the longer he was near these strangers, the antsier he got. Vladislav wiped a bit of cold sweat from his temple as he strode towards the forest, footsteps as silent as a snowflake. The faster this task was done, the sooner he could allow himself to relax and transform. Every fiber of his being was aching to let loose under the moon's glow, and Vlad still didn't know if he should be worrying about mind readers or not. The sooner he could get out from under it's direct light and get at least a little peace of mind, the better.

"Come on, you've all rested enough while I gathered my things." He called, double checking the string on his bow and taking the first step into the shadowy woods. The moment he passed under the canopy's shade he felt his mind lighten a bit, though the restless undercurrent was still permeating his every thought. He led the group through the woods as best he could, often disappearing through the leaves only to return to have the group change direction a bit to the left or right, and sometimes back tracking. He had them avoid bears, anacondas, a moonbathing sphinx, a pack of wolfs or three...

But his greatest concern were the three groups of fae he'd managed to see tracks of.

"They know we're in here." He explained to the swordsman on his latest trip back, motioning for the group to move to the left. "I've only seen traces of their passage, and likewise they've likely not any idea where we currently are so If I'm gone longer than usual it's just because I'm covering our tracks a bit. If we're lucky I should be able to get you to the edge of the waterfall where there's a nice thick patch of that stupid herb you want before we run into each other."

Vladislav wasn't entirely certain they'd lose in a fight. From what he'd seen of the mercenaries figured they'd be on par with the average fae scout. The problem was that he wasn't sure he'd be able to fight without using his magic, and he certainly didn't want to show the men any of -that- unless he absolutely had to.

[Minor NPC]

The swordsman slowly drew his sword with mouse-like silence, as if he was afraid that even the rasp out of his scabbard would alert someone.

"If we're lucky," he repeated quietly, sounding skeptical about that. "Just how lucky do you think we stand to be, comrade?"

The other mercenaries, partially crouching like he was, seemed to be fidgeting nervously where they were. Heads glanced this way and that often, and the wizard in the center of their formation seemed to be muttering small spells under his breath. Or he could have been praying. It wasn't loud enough to be intelligible by anyone except himself.

"We've fought fey before," one of the gunners said from the crowd. "Better to ambush them, then the other way around."

"Few bullets and they go down the same," a second said, hefting his rifle a bit as if to show it off.

[Vladislav Zolnerowich]

"How many times have you fought fae who specialised in silent assassinations?" The guide hissed, immediately regretting his decision to inform the others of why exactly they'd been taking such roundabout routes. They were all bloodthirsty, macho men idiots who just wanted a brawl. Despite that, he did draw his bow and arrow, jumping up into a nearby tree without making use of his boots.

He didn't want them to know -anything- about his available magic... He was just going to calmly look over the area, and.... //Oh Shit...// The were snake bumped into the fae scout who'd been landing on the same branch he was climbing, the man's magic making him just about invisible in the shadows. He narrowly dodged a drawn dagger and drove the arrow he'd been planning to knock directly into the man's throat, pulse speeding up.

"To arms!" He called, falling back down besides the swordsman, the body of the fae falling neatly besides him with a soft thud in the grass. Only thanks to his advanced vision was he able to notice the slight ripples in the air in front of the shadowy trees, recognizing that each of their adversaries were using the same invisibility magic as they dropped around the mercernary group, evidently intent on combat now that their cover was blown.

"Watch for fluttering leaves and pressed grass! If you have other means of detection, -use- them."

[Minor NPC]

The mercenaries, already on edge, shifted into a tighter circle around the center mage immedaitely. The swordsman took two steps forward, shouting out the order that didn't really need to come.

"Circle fire Clockwise!"

The bullets were already flying before the swordsman vanished in a puff of smoke, spreading a broad swath of lead in four directions. They split through the brush, carved right through several trees. Two unfortunates went down fast, one taken down by the first volley and another who tried to take cover behind a tree, only to have bullets pierce right through wood and ribcage.

It was a suppressive maneuver. They were buying a few seconds time, as the center wizard finished an enchantment. There eyes glowed teal with the sudden blessing of magic, as light shifted in their vision and allowed them to read the magic glow emanating from seemingly empty spaces.

One aimed his gun fast, but another figure was faster. The swordsman appeared in a burst and slashed immediately, catching the fey off guard with their own tactic, then disappearing to the next the moment he saw blood in the air. And then all hell broke loose as four gunners started picking their targets and fey warriors fired back.

A volley of arrows sliced through the near darkness, catching light off each muzzle flash as they sought out the guide first, missed the swordsman with a vanishing act, and peppering the five. Enchanted armor rebuffed some, one arrow scoring a direct hit into the shoulder of the largest before the mage slammed his staff in the ground. With a word, whistling wind deflected arrows to come. The injured mercenary groaned as he tried to fire one handed.

[Vladislav Zolnerowich]

Vladislav ducked the few arrows aimed at him ,and returned fire along the same lines of fire. Anyone of hadn't moved after shooting at him would receive a metal tip directly between the eyes. The guide couldn't admire his handiwork, however, having to twist himself to dodge a last minute blow of a knife wielding fae. Faster than he probably should have been if he wanted to keep his skills a secret, the amber eyed young man was already rolling backwards, coming out of the roll into a low dive, arrow knocked and fire at the speeding blur.

Vlad wished he had more time to focus, but scolded himself. His father had always said:"If you have the time to whine, you've got enough in you to give more effort." An irritating lesson, but a correct one. One by one, invisible fae fell to swords, guns and arrows, the were snake struggling to keep himself alive as well as keeping his abilities an unknown. Besides the fact that he wanted to keep a tactical edge, there was also the small matter of having to concentrate on -not- transforming.

He wasn't even certain he'd be able to do that -and- use his magic, at least not as stressed out as he was from the ambush.

"Is that the last of them?" He asked, plucking his arrow out of a running scout's back. He tried to still his racing heart, tried not to listen to the feeling in his mind that wanted to crawl about on the ground and gather the scents, make sure that no prey was escaping... He shook his head and looked towards his party members, assessing their wounds.

"Ready to move?"

[Minor NPC]

The mass of mercenaries, hunkered down around the most important of them, all felt the rapid beat of blood in their chests and all the adrenaline that came with it, but only the mage seemed to be lacking in breath. As the arrow-deflection field went down, he seemed wearier. Under his charge, long range attacks had been blunted or deflected outright, though one was still bleeding from a shoulder wound.

Those who had tried teleporting in close had met their own counter, as a swordsman kept beat, always seemingly one step quicker, one step faster, until he left a small ring of bodies around the center mass. He for his part seemed at last fully winded by the end. His shoulder rose and fell with deep breaths, and his fingers seemed locked on the blade.

"Zip, check for valuables. Bruce, heal that ***ing wound!" he ordered members of the group, angry to see anyone in the party injured where so many creatures track by scent. It didn't matter that it could have been much worse, or that the group lucked out enough not to have encountered (or perhaps killed off first) any more talented fey enchanters. "The last thing we need is every hungry creature following his blood. Double time, people! Get us a clear path, guide!"

[Vladislav Zolnerowich]

Panting a little himself, though much less winded from the battle, the guide slipped off into the trees when he was asked to clear a path. Adrenaline was still pumping through him, even now after the battle. He took deep breaths to try and calm himself, but the sound of rustling leaves had him tense up again. He tried to push down the urge to give in to his transformation just a few seconds too long, the weight of the lynx crashing into him driving him painfully to the ground.

The large cat's teeth sunk into the guide's shoulder, but the man wrapped both arms around it's powerful neck and kept it there, making sure it couldn't rip out the chunk. His own teeth bit into his lip as he forced himself to focus just long enough to weave a string with his fingers, the solid strand appearing with a soft glow before he used it to break the cat's neck.

Once it was limp, Vlad pushed himself back up, standing on shaky legs and holding his head in both hands. He could feel his body shifting under his skin, muscles rippling and wanting to grow. He pushed the urge down with a savage growl, mastering himself and turning back towards where the group would be following. By the time he'd walked back, the wounds on his shoulder had closed, though the blood and torn clothing were still present. Vlad didn't have any spare thought for that fact, however, only concentrating on not changing and doing his job so these men could get out of his life.

"Path's clear for a good fifty paces, no ambushes in that direction. Thankfully, it just so happens to be towards where we're headed, too. Let's go." he called, feeling his stamina recover with every step, and soon enough he was dashing in the woods again, not even thinking of how strange the cougar's dead body might seem.

[Minor NPC]

The group was finished following their orders by the time the guide came back, ducked down against the trees as cover. The patch job to the wounded soldier was long since done, putting the team back in full working order. 

The mage was still muttering things under his breath, trying to keep wards going and deflecting attention to the highly bloody hot spot. So many dead bodies, it was only a matter of time before something came with a hunger fit for a dozen. Local enchantment stopped that from happening as much as it had stopped gunfire from drawing anything in the fight, but the longer they waited, the more they felt like they were pushing their luck. 

They were all too relieved to have their guide back and well. 

Torn and bloody clothes corrected that to almost well. 

The swordsman grunted. 

"Wait," he almost ordered. He snapped his fingers at the chanting wizard, then pointed at the guide. "Bruce, patch job, quick."

The wizard nodded back, finishing the sentence to himself before he moved closer to fix the injury. One hand reached closer to it, the other still on his staff. 

[Vladislav Zolnerowich]

"I'm good." the guide immediately responded, realizing just how stupid he'd been. He looked at the mage and knew he couldn't pretend he hadn't been hurt. Still, no sense in letting them know exactly what had healed him. "I have my own healing." He muttered, tearing off his nearly gone sleeve and wrapping it around what used to have been a wounded area.

"Better to walk now. Faster we get away from the bloodbath, better we're off. We do not want to be fighting spectral wolves or any other magic beast hungry from the scent of blood." He told them, moving forward as swift as ever. A tired shake of his head was all the indication he gave that there was anything wrong with him, all of his physical wounds having already closed up.

He could feel the tingling at the back of his head stronger now, resonating with the scent of blood in the air and just wanting to go wild. "Gotta move, come on." He said, stumbling a little with his first step, and then regaining his footing so he could guide them towards the waterfall. Almost to the damned devil flower... and hopefully there wouldn't any sphinxes or manticores guarding the damned thing.

[Minor NPC]

"I'm good," the guide was quick to counter, raising a few eyebrows. The wizard stopped for a moment, looking back to his boss for orders.

"I have my own healing," he explained while committing shirt suicide. The swordsman grunted it off.

"Nix the blood, Bruce," he ordered anyway, the others getting back into formation. The wizard muttered a quick spell to dissolve the blood remains into nothingness so as not to give the beasts any blood scent to attract the scavengers on their way.

"Better to walk now," the guide said to several nods all around. "Faster we get away from the bloodbath, better we're off. We do not want to be fighting spectral wolves or any other magic beast hungry from the scent of blood. Gotta move, come on."

"One step ahead of you, comrade," the swordsman stated as the group, once more in formation, started to run quickly after them. "Bruce has been blocking that since before the fight. Wizards, eh, comrade? Always handy to have on your side. On others, not so much."

[Vladislav Zolnerowich]

Well, they seemed not to be suspicious , so that was good. The guide took off at a brisk pace. Discretion was less important than being further away from the scene of the battle, but Vladislav's footsteps were still fairly quiet. "Truthfully I'm as nervous about anything detecting his magic as I am about beasts smelling the blood. Oh, I assume you have good knowledge of his plant so as to not kill us all when you try to harvest it?" he asked the swordsman in a whisper, wincing when they passed the large cat that had attacked him. It was just there, neck broken and left propped against a tree.

He tried not to make notice of it, to just pretend it wasn't even there. Just keep running forward, focus on not transforming, and lead them all to the waterfall... right there, he could already see it... halfway up the rock face and half hidden behind the spray of water. "Great." he muttered, almost certain he'd be the one to go up. "Well gentlemen, we're here." He called, suddenly aware that he'd stopped paying attention to the rest of the group the moment they'd passed the carcass.

In fact, he hadn't even checked to see if they were still following him for the last few minutes, for all he knew they had stopped, or asked him something.

[Minor NPC]

"Truthfully I'm as nervous about anything detecting his magic as I am about beasts smelling the blood. Oh, I assume you have good knowledge of his plant so as to not kill us all when you try to harvest it?" he asked the swordsman in a whisper.

The swordsman noted the passing linx with an equally passing thought. 2 and 2 make 4, and a bloodied guide and a dead cat with blood-stained teeth equal an obvious fish.

"I told you we did, comrade," he returned with equal quiet. "Bruce - 'Stickman' as you called him - is an accomplished warder. Keep him safe, he'll keep you safe."

"Great," the guide muttered after awhile, and the swordsman followed his glance to the partially obscured flower. "Well gentlemen, we're here."

The swordsman gave a quick nod before issuing out the orders fast. "Bruce, air wards now. Zip, height advantage. Everyone else, entrench in."

A nervous wizard nodded back, and fearful mutterings took on a more specific route as magic moved to wrap an invisible bubble around each of their number, to keep the bad air out and let good air in. The rifleman was already scrabbling up a nearby tree, as others took cover among the same bushes and trunks.

The swordsman took several testing steps forward, breathing slowly, measuredly, wary of any change in the air that would hint at deathly vapors. Forward motion stopped almost abruptly.

"Wait," he said softly himself, partially crouched into battle readiness. His eyes tracked quickly over the pool of water, the river that led from it and the waterfall that fed it.

"Bodies," he muttered. "The flower's a killer. Where are the bodies?"

The edge of the water exploded in answer, spewing forth the body of a rotting corpse. The armor and blade said "ancient elf warrior." The lack of skin and organs said "undead."

The swordsman teleported two feet to his right, dodging the undead creation's slash and neatly bisecting it in turn, just below the ribs. The water frothed and bubbled even more, as several more figures - of origin ancient and present alike - rose up with "death" seemingly the only thing on their minds.

One rose only half up out of the river, elven spear in hand, and launched the water-laden implement straight for the guide as cautiously arranged soldiers sought to take down the undead. Bullets had little impact on the useless flesh, pressure pushing them back just a little.

"Legs and heads!" the swordsman ordered, even as he demonstrated - shattering a rusted blade with a parry, then slicing out the knees of one before following through into an execution cut in midair.

[Vladislav Zolnerowich]

Thoughts of going up were swept from his mind at the scene in front of him. Much less bodies than he'd expected, not even a few birds. Of course, they soon learned just why that was. Vlad felt sick to his stomach as he saw the rotting skin and sunken eyes of the beings rising from the waters to attack. Even as he jumped backwards to dodge the thrown spear, he made a face as he let loose the arrow he'd knocked and tilted his head so the spear would only scratch his cheek.

His back hit the ground just as his arrowhead pierced the zombie through the head, though being killed a second was apparently much more difficult than the first. It just turned back towards him , one arrow sticking out of a punctured eye socket as it charged with a lumbering gait that was caused by one of it's legs having been chewed off at the knee.

Scrambling to his feet and glancing back at the mercernaries to see if they were watching, the guide cursed and picked up the spear as the foul monster moved towards him. He didn't even feel the cut on his cheek closing as he dashed forward at half of his maximum speed, covering much more distance than he possibly should have and smashing the zombie's brain in with it's own spear. The rusted implement bent and snapped from the blow, but Vlad kept the haft so he could rush over to another spawn of hell and smash it's head in.

Between his stress and the smell of danger in the air, the guide gradually lost himself in the surge of adrenaline, thoughts gone as he began to rush left and right, smashing through faceplates with large rocks and stolen weapons, crushing heads and narrowly avoiding blows. He received many cuts, but they were superficial enough to heal on their own, and once he forgot about holding back and was going at his top speed across the battlefield, the shambling monstrosities couldn't keep up.

One after another he lept one, growling savagely after the tenth aberration he laid to rest, this one by jumping on it's back, tearing off it's helmet and kicking off the head so it could fly towards the mercernaries and splatter onto a tree trunk.

Vlad had to stop himself then, his slitted eyes blinking a few times as he tried to regain control of himself, the animal part of his mind screaming at him that there were more agressors, more attackers to kill. He wasn't even paying attention to his surroundings any more. Were there any others? Had they managed to stem the flow of the attack?

[Major NPC]

Swordsman and woodsman made the front line together, stopping the closest advancers while the gunners did their part to stem back a tide. Legs shot out from under them stopped many from moving at full speed, dropped to the ground and left to crawl. Follow-up shots zippered through skulls to bisect whatever was the seat of their volition.

From the center of the lake, churning water glowed ghostly teal, heralding another figure rising from the hidden depths. Curved horns cut upwards first, followed by the metal shell of a helmet, and the ectoplasmic blue-green of eyes. A voice of half-rotted jaws graveled out a sound that belonged to nothing human.

"Tressspasssers."

The water visibly shook for the drawn out word, as a half-armored figure gleamed like acid in the night waters. The exposed tendons and fragmented muscles of his jaw over-accentuated the words, even as magic brought sound to existence.

"This is not for the living."

The swordsman, his sword in the middle of stabbing upwards into one thing's chest cavity and out through the skull, swore something vile under his breath. He practically ripped open the creature's front as much as kicked him off, before rushing forward from the side.

A sniper round blasting its way toward the creature's head stopped several inches out from the rising undead. Shotgun pellets froze the same like a bad game of connect the dots, minus any paper to hold them. The swordsman teleported to the other side, sword en route to decapitation.

A slow wave of the ancient being's hand belied a massive blast of energy, cratering the water around him, catching bullets and bodies firing them right back.

With the first impact, the sniper was thrown clear off his perch, and the swordsman blown back with even more force into a nearby tree. The other gunners avoided an impact only because of their cover - the bark of trees cracking and splintering off in the fury. What few other undead were about, shattered on impact with trees and foliage.

[Vladislav Zolnerowich]

Vlad's slitted eyes glared at the new beast that came out of the water, stunned by it and feeling the viciousness seep out of his consciousness. His instincts certainly didn't want him to go barely into that. If anything, his instincts were telling him to get the hell out of the area. The struggle between fight and flight was enough to root him in place until he was sent flying into a tree, the wood splintering from the crash.

"Gotta focus... focus... gotta find something to... something to keep my head in the game... Ah!" Finding something to focus his resolve and plant his instincts firmly in the 'fight' camp, the weresnake took off at a brisk run towards the undead monstrosity, square lines appearing over his revealed arm and shining lines latching themselves to a pair of trees and some of the dropped weapons on the ground as he passed them and ran at top speed onto the lake, taking three steps across the surface and jumping high up.

"Hey chuckles, these guys still owe me money! Back off, will ya?" he said, dropping one of the smoke bombs from his back onto the creature's head and kicking off the water when he landed on the other side. The strong tug he gave on the lines still connected to him yanked his light body back towards the shore, the guide's legs out to deliver a savage kick to the thing's head even as multiple rusted swords came flying towards them from the other direction.

Between the surprise attack to the beast's head and impaling him with a dozen blades, Vlad hoped that would be all it took. Of course, it wouldn't be his life if it were that easy, so as fast as he could after the attack he released one of the strands from existence so he could use the other one to go around the beast and back to shore.

[Major NPC]

The undead creature - obviously more than a simple zombie - blared a sound in multiple layers: one part ghostly wail, one part shriek, one part beastly roar. The sounds shook in stereo, concurrent, making water avalanche around him. Rotted hands thrust forward, concentrated blasts of magic firing forward at a charging figure already in the air.

An upwards slash of one limb released more of the pale luminous energy, causing a smoke bomb to detonate early just above. It drifted down, dust slightly clouding regular vision - if he relied upon regular vision.

That the undead armored mage suddenly vanished with swords and guide on a collision course with each other, might have implied otherwise.

One of the gunners, watching precariously from behind his cover of a tree, didn't notice where he'd gone until the half-skeletal hand was on his neck. The sharp crack and thud of flesh saw the mercenaries (minus one) turning and firing - bullets catching on air just as before, leaving a charging figure slashing crescents of pale magic back upon them. Tree bark cratered and furrowed for each blast, driving gunners back behind the living walls.

The swordsman used his own teleportation ability to appear next to the flowering death vine, holding his breath even with the wards in place.

"We have to finish the mission and get out of here!!" he yelled, even as he dug the sword into the ground around the flower. "Bruce, bring the bag, stat!!"

[Vladislav Zolnerowich]

The magic blasts had been at least somewhat expected. If all it was capable of doing was shouting and looking scary, it probably wouldn't have been placed as a guardian to oversee the mindless undead all around. A few blasts did manage to singe Vladislav, leaving burnt streaks against his chest, back and arms where they touch, shredding the rest of his shirt as he flew over the monster, but didn't slow his attack.

The guide's eyes widened when his target disappeared and he found himself staring at rusted blades flying towards him. With a flick of his wrist he tugged down on the strands connected to the blades, forcing them just a bit lower on their frantic flight path but still having to twist his body and tug on the one string he had left to twist himself barely out of the way.

Seeing the devastation caused by the man, Vlad threw some lines over towards the swordsman, the strands appearing in a flash of gold before they became black strings, his entire upper body covered in what looked like tattoos of glowing, square lines. The strings wrapped themselves around heavy rocks near the death vine, and the guide pulled himself up, sparing a glance back to see what the monster was doing.

Once he heard the order, the guide cracked his knuckles and sent more strings down towards the mage of the group, the black strands hanging in front of his face. "Hang on!" He cried, paying no heed now to the fact that there was no way the mercs wouldn't see the burns in his skin close up and heal over while he jumped over a thick tree branch. He hoped to use his weight as leverage to lift the magician up to the flower so they could get the hell out of there, and as soon as that would be done he'd run notch his bow and take aim at the creature's head. Waiting so he could try and pierce it's brain the moment after it teleported.

[Major NPC]

Wary for a moment but having little time to second guess him, the staff mage took hold of the strands in one hand. Gravity pulled one down, and sent the other flying up into place. The swordsman held onto him, even as Bruce ushered the piece of plant and earth to float into a bag one fifth it's size. 

The undead mage lord, pummeling the tree behind which the rifleman hid, suddenly vanished to the other side. The rotten hand was halfway to his neck, before a projectile of powerful force smashed into the side of his horned helmet. The arrow dented the metal inwards, but glanced off at an angle. 

The undead still staggered heavily from the blow, taking several steps off to the side and practically falling over. Th rifleman practically roared as he brought his gun to bear, unloading his whole clip right then and there. 

[Vladislav Zolnerowich]

His attack hadn't quite had the effect that Vlad was hoping for, but he didn't have the time to pout about it. Instead, he took aim again, knocked a pair of arrows, and let loose, trusting his them to fly true towards the beast's chest. It didn't matter too much whether the dead thing dodge them. If it did, his next arrow would hit it wherever it showed up. And if it didn't, well, he'd still be able to aim at it, probably get a better shot, even.

He had to focus to produce the five fraying strands around his bowstring, the constant stream of wild, instinctual thoughts pushing down his usual ones. He cursed the moon under his breath and steadied himself, tugging the much tighter string back with all the strength his arms could muster. The raven haired archer breathed in, and then let the air flow from his lungs in a steady stream, slitted eyes focussed on the monster.

He looked calm despite the raging thoughts and instincts slowly taking over his mind, but it was simply because every single ounce of concentration the snake had was poured into the next shot he was going to take. Wait for the opening, whether it be the staggering from the previous blow or the point directly after teleportation... just wait for that moment, and strike.

[Major NPC]

Bullets, ripping, screaming, tore through the open joints of the creatures armor while he staggered back. They hacked through the knee joints, felling an undead tree just like he was ordered to.

The dead lord stopped his descent, and told gravity to go screw itself, rising up without legs and released another wail, shriek, roar - the triple sound of all things unearthly. Grass and brushes bent away from his voice, before a second massive burst was expelled from his body.

A swordsman appeared behind the rifleman, grabbed him around the neck and then both vanished before the shockwave cratered the ground and trees at point zero. Arrows caught in the blast spun away into the forest like deadly discs, carving through the air.

He slashed once at the tree behind which one hid, claw marks appearing in ghostly green and slicing around it - and then he vanished.

Five feet to the guide's right, the rotten, bone-tipped fingers of the undead thrust forward at his neck, aiming to snap it like he had the other.