| Logs |
2009 March 07
| When The Bough Breaks |
| Realms |
Retired
| Reality Fault |
General Info
 |
| Realms: Bough Logs |
Fifth Movement, Insanity Theme
For Norris, it is a moment of discontinuity. For Jareth, it is the simple progression of events: The Slender Man's corpse is now smoldering embers, the dull orange being matched by the faint first light of Dawn. It had been an unpleasant encounter, but the group survived it, at least.
Now the day starts. The gryphkits are becoming a bit sluggish, wanting to nap, but are still hopped up on excitement. They flutter wearily into Iron Antler's rack, curling up or perching there or on his rump. With the Dawn, the awen wash sweeps over the Dreaming, bringing with it the promises of a new day and increasing light with which to travel the rest of the way to the last known location of Artemis, Freyja, and Sleipnir.
To Norris, the last thing he remembers was the conversation with the lady Ghede, and his minor conflict with Mikal...and with himself. But when that is over, and he sees a smoldering body, he feels more disconnected than he usually does whenever he gets out of synch with the others. "What...what happened here?" he queries, finding it ahrd to focus on anything else, at the moment.
Jareth sits with his head on his knees as the sun comes up. This was a strange and unpleasant encounter. One of the most unpleasant aside from his temporary death in many ways. He raises his head and smiles crookedly at Norris, "An attack by something that couldn't be attacked back at first."
Norris's brow knits, as he goes through worry, and then anger, and then chagrin, and finally settles. "Was it something that bore us specific malice, or just some wandering menace?"
Jareth thinks on that for a moment and then says, "I... didn't get the feeling that it was after us specifically. I think it was just preying on fear and uncertainty and we were in it's territory." He hesitates, "I could be wrong." Without his usual flair for the dramtic, the bard fills Norris in on the strange an tiring battle with the slender man.
Hearing this, there is a small part of Norris that is almost glad he wasn't there. As he had to admit during the encounter with the loa, his current uncertainty is like an open wound. And fighting something that used it as a weapon might have made things worse. Or not? The very fact that he gave thought to that idea is what makes his own uncertainty so detrimental. It should not be so hard to exert some control over himself. He had done so for years before. Now that he's smarter, it should be easier, not harder. He just has to remember that.
Jareth pushes to his feet, taking a deep breath of the dawn air. Grateful to feel the weariness dropping away from him. He looks around, seeing that Mikal has disappeared. For a moment, he starts to be worried, but makes himself remember she made it through the fight. "We should probably start breaking camp."
Mikal comes walking back into camp, Raphael pacing along next to her. She's got her bow slung over her shoulder, and she looks a bit tired. "Sorry, packbrothers, for leaving without warning, but I didn't want to disturb anyone." She holds up a nice little chunk of awen, adding, "Saw this and thought it'd be a shame to let it go to waste."
Norris smiles at Mikal. "Take a lot more than you just not being here for a little bit, t'make us worry over much."
Jareth doesn't even say a word, just walks over to Mikal and wraps his arms around her for a hug and a brief kiss. "It's a lovely windfall, lapin."
Norris says, "Cat was just saying, we should break camp."
Mikal brightens at Jareth's reaction, hugging him back delightedly. A few moments later she grins at Norris and nods, "Sure thing!" She tucks the awen into the bow to increase its power, running a hand lightly along the curve as she murmurs a quiet blessing -- then she helps the others strike camp and leave the little spot unmarked. "So... more searching today, yes?"
Norris nods as he busies himself packing up things. "Seems so. "
Mikal packs up with everyone else, then spends some time as they travel riding on Iron Antlers and cuddling her little gryphkit. She rubs its little ears and croons to it, trying to persuade it to tell her its name. However, when Raphael gives a disgusted snort and makes an acerbic comment in Mikal's head, she looks up abruptly, a sheepish expression on her face, "What?! All the rest of you told me your names!" A moment later she adds, "Um... guys, shouldn't we be bearing more to the left here?"
Jareth looks around and sheepishly admits, "I'm just following you, lapin."
Mikal turns pink, "Oh! Oh, I'm so sorry -- I wasn't paying attention!" She puts the kit on her shoulder and hops off Iron Antlers, taking a moment to orient carefully... then she nods firmly, "This way!" and plunges determinedly through the forest.
Norris, while not babying over the grey like Mikal does over hers, takes his care of the gryphkit very seriously, and puts the kit back in a place of prominance on his shoulder, where he can gravely oversee everything. He put some serious thought into naming the kit Ferro, as his coloring and demeanor around the Smith certainly reminds him of iron, but decided to hold off, in case some better idea presents itself...or the kit gets an idea about their own name. He's quiet, as he has been, and when Mikal makes a course correction, follows along in her wake.
They begin the trek through the otherwise untamed, untrailed forest. At approximately mid-afternoon, the group enters into something of a clearing. It's there that the gryphkits seem to perk alertly, looking around excitedly but with very muted chirps.
Jareth, like the others, has been keeping his little gryphkit close to hand, absently grooming the feather parts and playing with it much the same he would with a kitten. He blinks at the sudden alertness, "Well, at least you don't seem scared."
Mikal pauses, glancing around warily herself as well to see what's up.
Norris takes a moment to soothe the grey, but peers around with sharpeyed interest.
The group hears rustling in the underbrush, the crunching of dry leaves underfoot, the faint titter of quiet laughter, and every so often the suggestion of movement amongst the thick branches.
Mikal calls quietly, "Who's there?" even as she murmurs to Raphael, [Can you circle around and see if you can spot them?]
Norris's brow knits. Laughter by itself is not threatening, but... he puts a hand on the haft of his mace, carefully, where it rests in its baldric.
Mikal is a bit surprised when she spots small, almost child-sized figures, although she's not sure precisely how many there are -- at least two, likely more. They seem to be attempting to circle the little pack, even to swinging through the branches.
Raphael replies to Mikal, as he slinks from the group to try and circle around them, [They are wily, Sister. They know I'm here and they're avoiding me, though that does mean I am at least keeping them from completely surrounding us. They appear to be clothed... and scruffy... and they smell horrible. Like dry, rotting blood.]
Mikal frowns, then murmurs to her friends, "We should keep moving. They're... unpleasant." She strides forwards again, adding to Raphael, [Any idea how many? Are there enough that we should treat them like the Staunton monsters, or what?]
Norris hmphs, and encourages his horse back into a trot, after giving the hilt of his mace a reassuring squeeze. "You keep an eye on things." he murmurs to the grey.
Raphael replies that he spots three, perhaps four or five, on the ground, a few more in the trees that I can;t get a good look at.
By now Iron antlers, while not at all being too scared or spooked, is uncomfortable, as are the horses.
Jareth looks around and nods, "And they're quick. I see at least three up there..." He keeps his ears perked as well, wondering if he can hear what they're saying.
Mikal nods quietly to Jareth, unslinging her bow. As she keeps walking, she calls out firmly, "We mean you no harm. Leave us alone, please, and we'll leave you alone too."
Norris absently thinks to himself that he's glad he took proper riding lessons from Mikal. While he'll never have her affinity with animals, he doesn't need to bring his mount under control should it be needful. He hopes.
At Mikal's call, there is another echoing titter of laughter, then a single quick movement in the underbrush towards a point in front of the group. And jumping onto a stump, shouting something uninteligible, is an almost comical-looking figure, about four feet tall, with a long, messily-unkempt beard and hair. It wears tough, dirt-stained tunic and breeches and heavy shoes, and has a bit of a wild look in its eyes. A conical, faintly wet-looking russet-colored cap it atop its head.
It stands there with arms spread for a brief moment, crooked and dirty teeth bared in what would on any other creature be a cheerful, broad smile. "Oh, travellers, travellers!" he says, voice happy but gruff and growly, if pitched to fit his size. "We don't get many travellers in this part of the woods!"
Mikal raises an eyebrow and pulls an arrow, although she does not yet nock it. Her voice is dry, "I'm not surprised, if the woods are this infested with redcaps. Leave us be, please." She adds curiously to her friends, "Could all these unpleasant entities be due to the angels slaying the threesome near here so long ago?"
Norris looks bemused, and looks at Jareth. "Redcaps?" he mouths. To Mikal, he replies, "You got me. But unless they feed on the dead, I don't see why."
Jareth shakes his head slowly, trying to be unobtrusive about reaching for his own weapon, "It could just be the wild nature of the place."
Mikal's voice is even more dry, "No, they just make people dead, Bear."
Jareth points to his head when Norris asks his silent question and mouths, "Blood." back.
Mikal lays her arrow across the bow and continues walking determinedly forward. "Stand aside, redcap. Leave us be."
The redcap titters, a sound echoed by the others that are rising out of the brush or hanging from the trees. There appears to be six of them. "Oooh, yes, infested indeed!" the lead dunter says chidingly. "I am a disease, and I am unclean. I'm not part of God's well-oiled machine!" He gestures with his right hand, and what looks like a short spear with an unusually long blade -- the entire pikestaff no more than three feet long, from tip to butt, and about a third of it blade -- snikts into being as if expanding. "Ye're a brave one, I'll give you that," he says, holding his ground. "But come on, would have to pay the toll, yes yes yes?"
The words are echoed by the other redcaps. "The toll, yes, the toll!"
Mikal swings up the bow, aiming as she says steadily, "None of us here are of El-Amon-Ra's folk. And we will not be blackmailed."
Jareth says, "And what is the toll, little gatekeepers?" His voice is a little wry, "Would we live through it?""
The redcap's smile is almost wild. "Do you think you're better than me?" he singsongs. "Do you want to kill me, or befriend me?"
Mikal murmurs, "Haven't decided yet."
Jareth edges forward slightly, vajra down by his thigh, "WHat are we to think when you seek to surround and ambush us?"
Norris looks around at the surrounding smallfolk...it's unlikely he could calm them. And even if he could, that would only be a stopgap measure. He takes the grey, and puts it on his mount, to keep it safe in case this mess should devolve to melee.
The redcaps titter some more. "Oh, that's easy," the lead says. "Pay the toll, and the rest of you can go through just fine." He taps the pike on the stump. "That is, a mortal. We've not had the pleasure of a mortal's lifeblood in a lo-o-ong time. Squirrels and badgers, their blood only goes so far."
Mikal sights down the arrow at the redcap on the stump as she murmurs calmly, "No. You may not have any of us. But you may depart in peace if you leave us alone. Your choice."
Jareth narrows his eyes and his fingers slide further down the vajra, "How much blood do you need?"
Norris ends up with a peculiar look on his face. Seemingly apropros of nothing he mouths to himself 'oingo boingo?' The Redcap's words are familiar, an echo from a previous life. Lyrics, to a song made famous during his lifetime. Well, that particular lifetime.
The redcap seems completely unfazed by the fact that an arrow is pointed at him. "Ooooh, you're lively. Th' blood must be hot in you! I'd love to hear you laugh tonight, I'd love to hear you weep. I'd love to listen to you while you're screaming in your sleep...."
The other redcaps are tapping their pikestaves against tree roots or branches. They are in a half-circle around the group; as he said, Raphael kept them from completely surrounding them.
"How much? I jus' said. A mortal. A life for the other three. We can't be too greedy, yaknow. We'd let the other tree go of course.
Mikal murmurs to Jareth, "That last comment about screaming from him... I'm done. You done yet?"
Jareth's eyes are narrowed as he thinks hard and fast. "You want a life. Or do you want blood. Make up your mind, little poet." He makes a 'wait' motion to Mikal, hoping she trusts him.
Mikal nods slightly to Jareth, keeping her aim steady.
Norris's brow knits in thought. It's so hard to remember...the life in question was not brought to his attention before. The rest of the song. What was it?
Jareth edges forward a little. "My life isn't mine to give. None of ours is, they're borrowed. And I misdoubt that you know what you ask when you ask the life of one of us." His smile is strange.
The redcap says, "Bah! What's the use of a heart of a poet--" he rummages through his pockets; for one queasy minute it looks like he might actually pull out a heart, but then he seems to give up -- "if you can't use it now and then? A li-i-ife, pretty boy! So very very sorry if I didn't make that clear. My mind has wandered from the flock, you see."
One of the other redcaps says gruffly, "They're not havin' none of it, it seems, let's just have at 'em and be done with it. Time to let the world know; welcome madness, say hello!"
Norris eyeballs the leader, taking a step forward. "What makes you tick inside your pretty head? Why to you echo words from a lost world?" he challenges.
Mikal's aim doesn't waver, but she gets a startled look as she realizes -- that was Norris!
Jareth mms, "A sacrifice." He shakes his head and smiles that strange smile, "I've already been a sacrifice and come back from it. I have no desire to do it again. And I will not give up those I love."
The lead redcap holds very still, then, as do all the redcaps. A bit of spittle drools from the corner of the lead's mouth, his eyes starting to go unfocussed - no, not unfocussed; horribly, horribly twisted. "I'd love to take you home with me, I'd love to tuck you in , I wish I could protect you from the wages of our sin..." he says in a strange sort of growling, giggling, weeping voice
Mikal murmurs more urgently, "Guys...!" but doesn't yet fire.
Norris looks steadily at the leader. "Then do so. We are not christian sons, we are not christian daughters. We will not be lead like lambs to the slaughter." And he dares reach out, to these insane creatures, with all the calm he can muster.
The redcaps look odd, now. Their motions a bit jerky, twitchy, their facial expressions almost but not quite frozen in hungry rictus. "This... won't be... last of us," the lead one says stutteringly, backing away, stepping clumsily down from the stump. None of the redcaps look like they're entirely coherent at the moment, but they do seem to not be as... no, actually, if anything they look more crazed. But they're not leaping to bite anyone's hands off. "There are... others... here in the forest. Lots others. Lovely hunting grounds here. The blood of goddesses in the ground. So many more redcaps. I am part of a degenerate elite... and the others... the others...." He titters unhealthily, moving to slink into the underbrush again, as are the other five redcaps of this hunting band.
Jareth's breath catches and he murmurs, "Blood goddesses.... maenads?"
Mikal looks puzzled, but keeps aiming carefully at the lead redcap until he's out of sight. Her voice is soft, "Freyja and Artemis is my guess." More wonderingly she adds, "Bear... what did you do?!"
Norris looks at the others. "It was instinct. They were...the words they used, they were lyrics to a song about insanity. So I tried quelling their insanity. It must have worked, at least for the moment." He shakes his head. "only for the moment. I can remove their violent impulses, as I did for the bandits. But I can't cure them."
Mikal lowers the bow and mutters, "Huh! That was weird." She considers a moment, then glances back at her packmates, "We're going to have to stand watches at night, and proceed as if they're the equivalent of Staunton monsters. C'mon," she slings both bow and arrow, heading swiftly forwards again, "let's not waste any time! The sooner we're out of here, the better, I suspect."
Norris nods agreeably, watching where the redcaps left. "I wonder if we can do anything about this mess." he murmurs, before going back to his steed and checking on the grey. "You alright?" he queries of the kit.
Jareth scoops his own kit up against his chest and strokes its head gently, shaking his head slowly, "The land here seems to breed nightmares somehow."
Mikal is already vanishing into the forest, following Raphael's lead. Her voice floats back over her shoulder, "That, or the goddesses cursed it when they fell..."
The grey gryphkit currs softly, clearly releived the redcaps have retreated for the moment, but still twitchy.
The journey to the site continues. The forest continues to take on a rather murky air, a faintly oppressive feeling that is passingly repulsive, but surely served to attract the redcaps and the Slender Man... as well as whatever else might be here. They group does need to make camp one more time, with the mortals standing watch, but nothing untoward happens. Unfortunately, it's clear that the group is being stalked or at least followed, if not by the band of redcaps quoting song lyrics, then another band of redcaps. They keep their distance, at least an arrow's flight away from the camp, and venture no closer at any time. Even so, they position themselves further and further from the group the closer they get to the site, until by the time that they reach the site, there is no longer any sign of the redcaps.
The clearing they stand at is approximately two hundred yards across and irregularly shaped, and dominated by a chasm in the center of it; it is not possible to see how far down it goes from here. The ground surrounding it is broken and uneven. There are a number of large boulders here, as well, most of them with ancient, weathered marks on them. The forest has been cleared from here rather violently, leaving just low stumps and rotting, fallen trunks. Based on everything here, there was a battle that flattened the forest, blew apart rocks, and, possibly, cleaved the ground apart.
Mikal frowns as she looks around thoughtfully... then she heads for the chasm. She'll first study it carefully, then climb to the highest spot she can find in the little clearing, to get the lay of the land and see what there is to see. Obviously any clues could not be lying out visible, or the angels would have taken them... so she's searching for anything odd, anomalous, anything that pings her curiosity.
Norris first makes sure he pays attention to where everyone else is...he's curious, certainly, and wants to help look for things. But his primary concern is making sure he doesn't let his varied little family out of his sight. And then he starts studying the marks on the boulders with a keen eye, to see if he can tell what made them, and if the marks have any other sorts of patterns to them.
Mikal approaches the chasm. As best as she can tell, it goes down, 'all the way down.' The light of day does not reach the bottom. But, far below, her sharp eyes can pick out a faint metallic glittering.
Raphael, meanwhile, is padding about the clearing, ears drooped, looking distinctly unhappy and upset -- not perturbed, or disturbed, just grieving.
To Norris's eye, the various marks on the visible stone suggest bladed weapons of tremendous strength, and what look like the distinctive marks left by lightning strikes -- many of them are not unlike, but slightly different from, the bolts cast by vrajas; there are many more that match the markings left over from the light cast by angelic lances.
To Jareth's second sight, the entire clearing is dim, dreary, a pall hanging over it like the eye of am unpleasantly-roiling storm, centered on the chasm. Whatever happened here left a very distinctive mark; the repulsive feeling seems to originate from this clearly, from the stones to the soil.
Mikal straightens up suddenly, murmuring to herself, "Oh! I'm a dope!" She turns and trots over to Raphael, giving a tight hug to the grieving raptor wolf. Her voice is low as she whispers to him, "I'm so sorry, big brother..." and strokes his big head.
Jareth looks around the clearing and shivers slightly, "This whole place is grieving."
Raphael finally gives a soft whine, nestling firmly into Mikal's embrace. His eyes do not leave the chasm, and he is not thinking entirely clearly, his thoughts muted.
Norris nods to himself...the marks are no more than what they seem. Remnants of the bloody battle. Which makes sense. If they fought here, they likely had no time to carve careful clues into the rocks.
Mikal simply sits and hugs her big half-brother, occasionally gently stroking his head and being calm and steady for him. He's been her support for so long; being there for him is the least she feels she can do for him right now.
Raphael's first coherent thought to Mikal is, simply, I don't even remember her clearly, but I still miss her so.
Jareth crouches by Mikal and Raph, wrapping his arms around them quietly for a moment.
Mikal smiles a bit sadly at Jareth, touched that he's trying to help too, then leans her head against him as she continues to hug Raphael. She murmurs softly, "Who, big brother? Freyja? Or your daughter, Sleipnir?"
[Both. But... mostly Sleipnir. She was my daughter....] He 'mrphles' a little in the multiple embrace, relaxing considerably now. He shakes himself a little, swallowing a mournful howl before it starts. [We should... we should search. And leave. I don't... really like it here.]
Norris watches his family hug each other, and while his heart goes out to them, he stands apart...not because he does feel he has the right to, but because he should watch other them in their vulenrable moment. His gaze casting around this blasted land, making sure any redcaps or any others know they will not be easy pickings.
Mikal nods silently, stroking Raphael's muzzle gently as he swallows the howl, and murmurs, "We will howl for them later, when we are safe. Is that all right?"
Jareth nods, "We'll all sing for them, little brother."
Mikal hugs Raphael for a moment longer, resting her head against him -- then gives Jareth a tight hug of thanks as well. After that she hops up and says firmly, "Raph and Iron Antlers both don't like it here. Let's search quickly, then be gone, yes?" She returns to the edge of the chasm, staring thoughtfully down it and considering how hard it would be to climb. She hmms thoughtfully, murmuring, "Not too hard, but non-trivial and time consuming... and we'd need a lot of rope." She turns to study the fay stag, and her eyes narrow in consideration. She tries a small experiment, calling gently in her mind, [Hey, little gryphkit! Can you hear me? Tell me your name?]
The gryphkit does not seem to respond or even have the same mental capacity as Iron Antlers.
Mikal sighs and shakes her head regretfully, "Ah, well. That would have been the fastest way to see what was down there." She turns her gaze back to the chasm and frowns, "What we need is someone who can fly down there, check out that metallic glitter, then return and tell us what's there... like a shapeshifter or something." She blinks, lifting her head and staring at Raphael. Her voice is musing, "A shape... shifter..." She brightens suddenly, "Raph! Raph, you try it! Can you do it? Loki was very much the shapeshifter, after all, right?"
Raphael looks and sounds surprised, and lets Mikal know he's not sure that he can do that; he's not as close to his godly heritage as the others are.
Mikal looks a bit disappointed, but nods, "All right. We can work on it later with you, if you want, okay?" She turns and stares down the chasm, musing aloud, "For now... hm. For now, I can try climbing down there... or..." She looks up again, this time at Jareth. Her voice is even more musing, "You know... I... I remember wings on myself... and on you, Lilith. Do you recall that as well?"
Jareth blinks a bit and rolls his shoulders, then looks over one of them as if trying to picture the wings. "Vaguely..."
Mikal concentrates for a bit, murmuring, "Rope, as well... for just in case. We'll tie it to Iron Antlers, and Norris can handle it while Raphael stands watch..."
Norris is watching this attempt to form wings with some interest...but on the off chance it doesn't work, he starts preparing their rope supplies for a rapelling descent.
After some concentration, Jareth is startled to notice the large, soft-feathered wings of an owl have protruded from his back. They manifested themselves with new muscles that stretch out along his shoulders and down his back and upper arms.
Mikal closes her eyes, scrunches up her face, and concentrates as hard as she knows how, trying her best to remember precisely how her wings felt. For a long moment she feels nothing -- then her back itches something ferocious! -and then, suddenly, she has it! She laughs aloud joyously, spreading her arms and letting her wings flare out behind her. Her long, light, embroidered robe ripples around her from the wind of her own wings' slow beating, and she sings something in a language no one else recognizes. A crown of four pairs of stacked, curving horns rests on her forehead, and her long, elaborately braided hair tumbles down her back. Gold, carnelian, and lapis glows and glitters at her wrists and throat, and a delicately enticing scent drifts through the air.
Along with the wings, Jareth finds that he's slipped again into a female form and there's a sort of crown around his forehead. His hands have changed, and his feet, into the arching talons of an owl, which startles him when he reaches to try and touch his own wings.
Norris wasn't really sure what to expect. The both of them tended to have done very well when dreamweaving things, but wings are very different. And as the practical Norris is working on a tried and true method, he is nonetheless amazed by what he sees. Not so amazed that he drops his work, though. "Whoa."
Jareth stretches his wings out and carefully flaps them, ducking his head in anticipation of a loud noise. Instead, he's surprised at how quiet it is. He smirks a little to himself and murmurs, "Night hunter. Of course."
Mikal glances over, smiles, and nods, "Owl wings, sure." She spreads hers, shaking her hair back and glorying in how real, how full she feels! When her wings slap downwards, not only does she rocket into the air, but there's a tremendous thunderclap! She tumbles startledly, flapping wildly, and a few seconds later peers down at the others from where she's easily soaring above, "Um... soooorry!"
Jareth looks up at Mikal with an arched brow, "Not the way to stay inconspicuous, love."
Norris just smiles. Mikal's so much fun when she's excited and happy. "Guess we don't need this, then." he rumbles, hefting the rope he tied off earlier.
Jareth says, "We might, still. "
Mikal floats back down, flapping her wings and causing a bit of a small dust storm as she does so. Sheepishly she mumbles, "I forgot... the Anzu Bird's associated with thunder." She nods to Norris, "Yes, better safe than sorry."
She adds cheerfully, "Let's get going! Norris, you and Iron Antlers keep hold of the other ends, and feed out the rope for us, all right?" She ties a swift figure-8 about her waist and thighs, so if she does fall she won't have all her weight on a single line about her waist, then (if he allows) does the same with another line for Jareth. She grins up at him as she does so, her eyes sparkling as she teases a bit, "Different look for you, love!"
Norris nods agreebly, giving Mikal's harness a good once over...he's had some experience in this as well. "Looks aright." he rumbles. "you both gonna go down?"
Jareth grins and spreads out his wings, showing off the mottled pattern of the wings. "Soft and warm, though." He nods to Norris, "Not at the same time, though."
Mikal nods to Norris from where she's standing by the edge of the chasm. She grins, "Backup!" the instant before she tips forward, wings spreading to catch the updraft. Taking flight this way, she's almost silent, and she floats in lazy circles downwards.
Norris keeps a clsoe eye on the line...Mikal's not all that heavy by herself, and the wings are not likely either, but before he spares any attention to the woods, and the recaps within, he wants to make sure that rope is secure.
The crevasse runs deep, extremely deep. There's barely enough room to flap their wings in order to maintain a controlled descent. The walls are jagged and only slightly weathered; the wind and rain haven't reached down here. As Jareth and Mikal near the glint, their eyes adapt to the increasing darkness, and far, far below they begin to see just how far the crevasse reaches, with the faint hint of the orange light of the Nether below.
Mikal glances around thoughtfully, careful about how much she spreads her wings and her distance from both the walls and Jareth's nude form above her. She trusts Norris to keep the rope lines straight, so she doesn't worry about that at all.
The crevasse appears to be old, probably not caused by the fighting between the goddesses and the angels. There are surely at least a few more like it throughout the Dreamtime, but likely few, if any others, that reach this deep. As they descend, the light from above is slowly eclipsed by the light from below.
And as they near the glint of light, it slowly resolves itself into a spear, thrust with apparent great force into the wall of the crevasse. But of whomever must have thrust it there, there is no sign; and the Nether has no stories to tell.
Meanwhile, up above, Raphael is perched on the edge of the crevasse, looking down with concern, worry, and melancholy. Iron Antlers has absolutely no trouble keeping hold of the line, keeping his hooves planted against any sudden jerk of the line.
Mikal ooohs, calling quietly, "Got a spear here, lover! Moment..." She tilts her wings, angling over to try and land on any rocky ledges near the weapon, so she can study it more carefully.
Mikal blinks, peering more carefully as she pauses in aiming for the spear. Softly she calls, "Jair? I think I see something even lower... can you see it? Sort of a bronze-y glint? I'm going to try to check it out, okay?"
Jareth was just opening his mouth to say something very similar to Mikal. He chuckles and says, "Yes. I see it. It looks bronze to me, too. Let me take the spear if you're going further down."
Mikal flashes a cheerful grin up at Jareth, "Okay! Be careful pulling it out -- it looks like it's really jammed in there!" She continues to circle slowly deeper, being even more careful with her wings and the sides of the chasm.
Jareth tries to brace with one taloned foot against the side of the chasm while using both hands to try to dislodge the spear.
Mikal flits downward towards the glint. It is at least two hundred yards below the spear. As she nears it, it resolves itself into a dented bronze helmet, the kind with a mask over where the face would be; the mask itself is both sternly stentorian, and yet also feminine.
It takes more than a bit of strength to dislodge the spear; it was planted with a great deal of force, and it is only by Jareth working at it that it finally comes free. The design is unknown to him, but is apparently made completely of cunningly reinforced bronze, from blade to haft to butt.
Jareth flutters the wings to keep from tumbling away from the wall after he's got the spear in his transformed hands. He whistles softly through his teeth. Weapons are not his forte, but this one is impressive.
Mikal lands lightly next to the helmet, picking it up with gentle reverence. She murmurs softly, "Hello, Athena's helm. Your bearer's brother awaits you above."
Norris waits calmly above, unable to hear or see what the others are about, keeping one eye on the tree line, and the other on the rope, his mace in one large hand.
Mikal tucks the helmet securely under one arm, then tilts outwards over the chasm and allows the updraft to pick her up again. She has to flap occasionally to continue her lazy spiral upwards, but she is careful not to really slap her wings as she rises, so there's not a repeat of the tremendous thunderclap earlier. As she approaches Jareth's level she calls up to him, "I have Athena's helmet, love! Do you have the spear? I'm guessing it's either hers, or Gungnir... although if it's bronze like this, it's most likely not Norse."
Jareth looks the spear over, "It's all bronze..." Shall we go back up?
Mikal grins, "Better! You need to either rise above me, or wait for me to ascend completely so the ropes don't tangle. Go ahead and head upwards now!'
Jareth grins and shifts around until he can hold the spear in his taloned feet and then starts his way upward. The owl wings are eerily silent as he uses them to rise upward.
Mikal continues rising more slowly than Jareth. Owl wings flap far more quietly than Anzu Bird wings, so she doesn't hurry at all, in order to not make a lot of noise.
At the top of the crevasse, brought into the light, the helmet and the spear glint brightly in the daylight, their features coming much more into sharp relief. While bronze, they have no marks of corrosion on them whatsoever, and appear to be as if the day they were forged... if not for the clear marks of battle upon them, the strike-blunted tip of the spear and the heavy denting and damage to the helmet.
Norris stays back, and doesn't move to offer assistance unless Jareth requires it, so as not to unnecessarily get in the way. The smith is still looking askance at the very different form Jareth's adopted, though. "Does it feel weird?" he queries.
Jareth looks down at the spear and says, "It feels like metal."
Mikal nods slowly to herself as she holds out the helmet to Norris, "I think these belonged to your... rider's sister, Norr."
Norris huhs? And then realizes... "No, I meant your body not the..." He trails off, looking like deer in the headlights at Mikal's comment. "Awhuh?"
Mikal says, "Athena's helmet and spear."
Norris stares. "May I see?" he manages to murmurs as evenly as he can, after a couple heartbeats.
Mikal continues holding out the helmet to Norris, smiling faintly.
Jareth is looking down again, this time at the body, and he's opening his mouth to answer when Mikal's comment strikes home. He closes his mouth again, and just concentrates on getting back into his more accustomed body.
Mikal smiles at Jareth, "I like how you look."
Norris takes the helmet in his hand, careful, studying the helm almost reverentially. Is it? Can he tell?
Jareth smiles warmly at Mikal, "It's a little easier than the first time. But my hips move all different. Walking is strange."
Mikal giggles quietly, her wings mostly folding back -- although the ends of the crossed wings project noticeably past her shoulders. She's still in Inanna's long, padded and decorated battle gear, with the four-level horned crown and weapons. It's clear she's quite comfortable so. She grins teasingly, "You're saying you don't like girl hips?"
Upon taking hold of the helmet, Norris have a very strong flashback to when he first made it. This is clearly his/Hephaestus's work. He remembers the days he made the helmet, the long hours hammering it into it's rough shape and the days he spent in the fine detailing, and how long he had labored to make the mask look as closely to Athena as he could. She teased him gently about putting so much care into the helmet's mask, but she was clearly flattered and honored by it, by his desire to make it such that there was absolutely no doubt as to whose helmet it was and who was wearing it. It is most definitely hers, made by Norris's hands.
Jareth grins back at Mikal and lets, for just a moment, a hint of heat and mischief glint in his eyes, "Now, I never said that." He tries to pull himself back together in case this is Norris'... Hephaestus'... sister's helmet and spear.
Mikal giggles again, stepping over to stand on tiptoes and put her arms about Jareth's neck. Her voice is purring, "Will you plow my furrow, my beloved?"
Norris is not prepared for this...nothing could have made him so. It's like a knife to his calves, as his fingers trace the lines of the mask. He'd made it with Aegis, he remembered, and it was one of the works he was proudest of, a gift made and given with love. "I'm sorry." he whispers, cradling the helm to his chest, tears standing in his eyes. The god is full in him now, and though he does not fall to his knees, it takes him a good moment to recover.
Jareth was watching Norris' face for a reaction, but that throws him way off track. It's, after all, the sort of question to get a fellow's attention. His hands go instictively to Mikal's hips and he grins, "With quite enthusiasm, beloved..." He's just starting to lean down for a kiss when Norris hits his knees and startles him.
Mikal blinks at Jareth's hesitating, then cranes her head around to see what's distracting him from her. She blinks again, murmuring, "Oh, no!" and adds softly to Jareth, as she whirls to Norris, "Later, yes, love?" She darts over and wraps her arms and wings tightly about Norris -- just standing there and being as warm and comforting as she can for her poor packmate.
Jareth nods and follows Mikal over. He settles to one knee on the other side of Norris, wrapping his arms around the grieving smith.
Norris was trying not to...but at Mikal's touch, he chokes out a sob, filled with Hephaestus's sorrow and despair. He clings to his family for support, striving to remain upright even so: he's far too heavy even for both of them! Words escape him, and he cries.
Jareth finds himself singing softly to Norris, an old lullabye that mother's used in Staunton, and stroking his friend's hair.
Mikal just hugs Norris. Even when the larger boy sags, she just lets him settle where he wishes, then wraps herself warmly about him again.
Norris finally pull himself together...they're not safe here. Squeezing Jareth and Mikal both, he wipes away tears. "The helm is definitely hers. I...he made it, for her. Artemis must have saved it after Athena fell in battle."
Mikal gently takes Norris' face in both her hands, urging him to look her in the eyes. Firmly she murmurs, "You, Norris. You made the helmet. You are the consumately skilled craftsman. Don't short yourself any longer, please!"
Norris shakes his head, smiling sadly. "I am not attempting to do any such thing, Rabbit. Merely being clear." His head is a little muddled, feeling the sorrowing god in him so clearly. "I had not felt him in me so intensely as I do now."
Mikal says, "Then you should feel this way more often, dear."
The group is gathered quietly in the glade. Raphael is quiet and unhappy, but he nestles against Norris, who is surely feeling the same way. Norris holds the masked helmet in his hands, while Jareth is holding the solid bronze spear.
Norris clears his throat, one hand going down to pet Raph's head, happy for the big wolf's support as well. "I'm okay. I can, uh...I can do this. Let me see the spear?" Tears still stain his cheeks, but he's mostly cried out, by this point.
Jareth nods and carefully hands the spear over to Norris.
Mikal is still wrapped warmly about Norris, although she's now gently stroking his hair as well. She glances around as she does so, making sure Iron Antlers and the gryphkits are all fine. Her voice is soft, "When you have a moment and can bear to do so, Norr, you need to let Hephaestos in really deeply, and examine the helmet. If there's a message to us, it will be in there -- because that was the deepest and most hidden object."
Norris puts the helmet reverentially aside, and is starting to examine the spear when Mikal speaks...giving her words consideration, he nods. He made it - if there's anything different about it, he should be able to tell. But he takes a moment to recover, and examines the weapon, first, as he sits on his knees with his family.
Norris swallows...he opens himself up to that powerful mind again, but this time, attempting to let the emotional wave pass through him more peacefully. He needs rational thought more than he needs despair.
As Norris examines the spear, a preternatural calm flows over him. He remembers how he made this hunting-spear for Artemis, lifetimes ago, and yet each curve and each indent is familiar to him. The day he forged it... no, forged it's parts. He enjoyed crafting this for Artemis, one of the last things he made for her before the Godswar, to her request. For while she was an archer (much like his pack-mate in a mortal life...) she hunted many game, some of which required a spear... and when the Architect's war raged, she used the boar-hunting spear against the six-winged predators.
And so it is as if he knows the spear the day he made it, that he pushes, pulls, twists upon the butt of the spear in a certain way... and with a metallic sliding sound, the butt springs out, a loose roll of parchment twisted around a spindle set in the center of it.
Mikal looks surprised as she watches. She says nothing, but she wonders what's in the helmet that's even more valuable than the spear itself -- and how the angels missed the two artifacts.
Norris hahs! "Oh, huntress." he marvels. "I'd never have known this little secret would become so handy. Thank you."
Mikal knows she doesn't read ancient Greek, so she simply keeps watch around them. This is incredibly valuable; she wants nothing to come take or destroy it now.
Jareth jumps slightly as the parchment falls free.
Norris unrolls the parchment, scanning the contents.
To Norris, the parchment is as clear to read as whatever language he reads in the Waking. It is short, and concise, in the clipped, concise way he is familiar with from Artemis. It is quite direct: It gives a portion of Metatron's name, and the syllables are 'MEH-KAH...' name, which Artemis, Freyja, and Sleipnir obtained through ways not described. There is at least one more portion to the True Name of Metatron, perhaps two, but no more.
Norris informs his companions with excitement of the contents.
Mikal's eyes brighten, and her voice is quiet and tight with fierce intensity, "Excellent! We'll bring that vicious parasite down yet!" She hugs Norris again, then adds with even more excitement, "Check the helmet! It was even more hidden, so whatever it holds must be more important -- check it too! Maybe that will tell us either the rest of the name, or where to find it -- or where Gan Eden and Enoch-Nod are. We could simply ask Saladin in Babylon what Azrael's True Name is, if we already know that!"
Mikal says, "Instead of having to ask him about the locations as well."
Norris nods uncertainly...the helmet was not so designed like the spear, but he carefully feels it over with his fingers, studying every inch of it. It's easier, now.
The helmet is much as he remembers it as well, the day he forged it. Athena was not one for secrets, much, but she did have a mind for strategic plans, and 'keeping something under your hat/helmet' held some significant meaning for her. It isn't that there is a secret compartment, so much as a fold in the leathern lining, within which is another parchment. But this one is simply a letter which Hephaestus wrote to her once, long long ago, and which she kept close to her. It appears that the helmet simply fell, and was not hidden; Artemis seemed to have more concern in ensuring that the spear was not lost into the Nether at the bottom of the cavern, and the helmet simply landed upon an outcropping.
Yet that is not all that is there, it seems. For there is another note, and it is speculation on the nature of Metatron and what 'MEH-KAH' could originate from. Unfortunately, even Athena had little hint or idea. Even so, Norris suspects that with the concise notes here, that should they find one more piece of Metatron's name, they will be far ahead than if they had just two parts of the name.
Mikal blinks in slow astonishment, staring at the incomprehensible (to her) parchments as she murmurs, "That... cannot be true, though! If Metatron donated the 'Re' to El-Amon-Re's name... then with Re, Meh, and Kah," she's careful to say the syllables out of order, "...then... we have all three syllables of his True Name!"
Norris swallows, his throat feeling thick. Just a few lines of the letter, and he recognizes it...he cannot handle this right now. So focusing on the other hidden parchment is easier. Also, Mikal's excitement gives him something to focus on. "What does it mean? Does it help us? Can we even hope to bind one such as him with the name?"
Mikal's gaze rises slowly to Norris's face. There's something strange and feral in her eyes, like a wild thing that's suddenly realized it is the strongest and has nothing to fear. Her voice is softly powerful, almost like a bell struck indoors to contain the ringing tone, and she says only, "Yes.”
As she says that single word with such convition, there is, faintly, further into the forest, the sound of, perhaps, a stick being whacked against wood. It is a steady, percussive rhythm.. and soon a second joins the first, keeping time... then a third... and a fourth. The redcaps are stirring.
Norris swears, putting Athena's helm aside. "Damn redcaps. Unerring sense of timing."
Mikal's head whips around, and a snarl curls her lips for an instant -- then she's on her feet, wings flaring out aggressively as she snaps, "Time to move, pack! Jareth, make sure all the gryphkits are gathered close, please -- Norris, keep the spear and bring the horses. We must ride!" She's already stuffing the helmet into her backpack as she speaks, and Iron Antlers comes trotting over at her mental call.
Norris brings the spear with him, hurrying to his and Jareth's mounts, bringing them over. No time to gather the rope: they'll jsut have to get more at a later date.
Jareth moves as quickly as he can in the unfamiliar form, swearing under his breath.
Mikal whips the rope off herself, whirling it into a bunched-up mass. She stuffs that into the backpack also, shrugging into it and looking around warily as she rises. How close are the redcaps? Would they be better to make a stand here, where the redcaps cannot run through the trees and drop down in attack? Or would it be better to take the animals and try to weave carefully through the trees before the little monsters realize their prey is escaped?
The gryphkits chirp and mewl worriedly as Jareth gathers them; they are unnerved by the oddly rhythmic percussion line the redcaps are dropping, as the horrible little creatures overcome whatever was keeping them away and they converge on the group of mortals.
Mikal shakes her head in irritation, and the annoyed shiver of her wings causes a quiet rumble of sound. The redcaps are very close, she can tell -- going into the forest would be suicidal. She glances around more carefully now, searching for a defensible spot where they can protect the animals while fighting off redcaps. A summit of some sort -- something the redcaps can't swarm over -- that'd be best if she can find one.
Jareth wonders nervously if he should try to get back to his more familiar form.
Mikal looks relieved as she eyes the huge old boulder at one end of the clearing. Surprisingly, it looks large enough, and with one side easing gradually into the grass, that they might be able to get the hooved animals up there for protection. She waves to her packmates, "Get the horses over to that huge boulder -- Iron Antlers, help Norris get them up there, please! We'll defend in front of them, and hope the redcaps can't climb up the sheer back side of it." She adds to Jareth as she spreads her wings and lofts into the air with a small clap of thunder, "Can you keep the horses together and calm -- and keep an eye on our backs, in case the redcaps turn out to be able to climb?"
Mikal lands lightly on the very top of the massive old boulder, examining it critically one last time, to make sure it will do. She's trusting the lives of her beloved Pack -- and herself -- to it, after all.
Jareth nods and decides this might be a time to be his normal self. At least the self he's used to for the moment.
Norris eyes the boulder a little critically, hoping the great Stag will be of assistance...he puts Artemis's spear in the saddle sling he was using to hold his mace, and urges the horses onto the stone as carefully as he can.
To Mikal's eye it looks like the boulder will do well; it looks like it would be hard for anything like the runty little redcaps to scramble on top of without getting kicked off first.
The horses go up onto the boulder without any fuss, though they're all getting nervous now with the approaching redcaps.
And then there they are.
It's just a glimpse of one blood-red conical cap and dark, smouldering eyes, peering over a bush with a dirty, snaggly grin set within unkempt beard. But there is no doubt that there are others, because it's not the visible one that's calling out singsong, "Come on, now, come out and pla-a-ay!"
Mikal glances at the pathetic little monster, then down at her companions. She calls quietly, "Hurry now. No worry; Iron Antlers, press the horses back. Jareth, stay by Iron Antlers, please? Raphael, Norris, you and I will be between Jareth and the little monsters." Standing on top of the huge boulder in the haloing glow of the dream realm's odd daylight, she's unwittingly manifesting Inanna very strongly. Her wings are flared out and shimmering irridescent in the light, and her hair tumbles back from her crowning helmet in a profusion of decorated braids. About her neck and over her chest is a fitted, padded bodice for an archer's very light armor; it is decorated with glowing lapis and bright carnelian beads like drops of blood. Her small face is as resolutely stern as her voice, and she stands fearlessly erect, her magnificent bow nocked and ready in her hands.
The tips of Iron Antlers' branching tines glitter suddenly in the bright light, as bronze caps with a sharpened point manifest on each one, and both he and Raphael have their light padded armor on that Norris made for them.
Norris has donned his skullcap, and shrugs off his cloak, his breastplate gleaming in the light. This is the first time he's used it since it was crafted back at the Rakshasa enclave, and he finds it fitting, in the presence of the arms and armor that he crafted for his sister and his friend. His expression is grim and determined - he would rather not fight these little beasts, even if they are distasteful. No, he would save his fury for another. But he will fight to protect his family, as he could not before. No words this, time, only bringing his mighty mace to a defensive stance.
Mikal makes sure there's room for her to leap down to land next to Norris and Raphael, should she run out of arrows, and she mentally marks where the spear is -- that might be a better weapon for her for close-in work, if she must.
Jareth slides back into the body he's used to and crouches at the edge of the boulder's backside, keeping an eye out for anything approaching from that direction. He tries to bring his vajra out without being too obvious about it.
The percussion hammering fades a bit, as additional redcaps are seen waiting at the brushline surrounding the clearing, near the boulder. They appear cautious, certainly possessed of a vicious cunning, and are loathe to leap out into the lines of fire.
"Aw, come on, prettypretty," one says through a brush. "Just one of you, one pretty blood-bag of a mortal, an' we'll let the rest of you go...."
"The fuzzy one will do well," another says, sotto voice.
Mikal nods once as she sees her Pack is as ready as it will be. She raises her voice, calling out strongly, "We are here, creatures! Come out and try to take us, if you want one of us. If not, crawl away like the vermin you are." She's deliberately mocking, trying to enrage them. The sooner this battle is over, the better, she thinks.
That breaks through Norris's calm. His mouth opening in a snarl. "Best keep your blades from the wolf, blood-imp. I'll just crush you cleanly. He'll eat you alive. Bring it, or don't."
One calls out in reply, "That th' best you can do, pretty bit?" A titter of laughter follows. In reply to Norris, another says, "Oh, we're tryin' to make it easy on you, mortal-morsel, no need to get huffy!"
A small rock sails out from the forest, but misses Mikal cleanly; she doesn't even have to dodge.
One of the bushes off to he side seems to be shaking, and tiny, whispered voices are rising in volume and argument there.,
Mikal nocks an arrow, waiting calmly. To her bow she murmurs, "Can you make this arrow burn when it strikes, Papaios?"
Norris tries to keep a rein on his temper, but he still manages a response. "I was trying to show mercy on you and yours earlier, scum! I thought even creatures such as you deserve the right to live in peace. But try and take our lives, and you'll see we do not fall easy. Three who you are not worthy to polish the feet of fell here, and we will do them honor! Come and sacrifice yourselves on their altar, if you cannot hold back your bloodlust!"
The bow replies, "Affirmative."
At Norris's words, there is a shriek of rage, and from the bush that was rustling in argument, one of the redcaps charges, pikestaff held high as he bears down on Norris. After an instant, he is followed by a second, grim-looking one. Then the other redcaps begin to burst from the growth.
Raphael crouches next to Norris, his vicious snarling baring his shark-like teeth.
Jareth takes a couple of deep breaths, centering himself before aiming he vajra at the feet of a redcap, hoping the percussion will knock him silly at the very least.
High up on the massive boulder, the bright-winged figure raises her bow in a smooth arc that catches the light in a fiery golden gleam. Silently she murmurs, [Do so then, please] -- then fires the arrow into the underbrush still sheltering some of the redcaps, to flush them out.
Norris holds the line...and when the enraged one comes close enough the rakshasa-forged mace swings forth, not like a methodical smith, but like a fierce warrior.
The shriek of lightning from Jareth's vajra licks out and dances over the redcap's thick clothing and skin. It shrieks in pain, but that blast does not appear to have wounded it noticably this time.
The fire arrow strikes a cluster of bushes behind which Mikal was certain more redcaps were hiding. And there are -- they were lying in wait, and as the fire arrow goes off, four redcaps scramble out of the flaming bush, yowling and disoriented and surprised; they'll recover slower than the others,
Mikal nods to herself, pleased, then sweeps the area with her gaze to see if there are more in hiding. So far she's spotted ten.
Jareth takes a deep breath and, instead of aiming at the redcap's feet, aims straight for the center of its chest. In truth, he's a littld disconcerted that it didn't seem damaged by the first strike.
The redcap takes the bolt in the chest, and this time it grounds. The redcap is lifted off his feet and lands heavilly, twitching and gurgling with the electrical jolt of the miniature lightning blast. It appears to still be conscious, but isn't going to be moving very fast, or hitting very hard when it does move.
Mikal nocks another arrow, and with an almost Zen-like calm (although she's not familiar with the practice) she fires at the furthest-away redcap charging them. She doesn't want them to immediately figure out how dangerous the little group is, as it's far easier to pick them off here in the open than to have to fight through a hostile forest while on the run.
The redcap takes the arrow to the chest, and plows into the ground as it spins, stumbles, and crumples into the grass. Like the one Jareth struck, it is alive, but only barely.
Jareth is relieved that his second shot made it home and he takes aim at the next-closest one when he's had time to take a breath. He's murmuring a sort of blessing and asking forgiveness for having to harm the critters.
The blast hits the redcap. It is clearly hurt, gritting its teeth so hard that Jareth imagines he can hear the grinding of stained molars under the grunting growl that the redcap gives, but it pushes onward towards the group... despite the little flame at the tip of it's conical cap.
Mikal calmly draws another arrow and fires -- this time at the next furthest-away redcap.
This arrow shot lifts up the redcap bodily -- who at first sounds like enjoy the flying sensation until it hits the tree behind it, and it feels the arrow. It strikes the ground, coughing up a gout of foul-smelling blood, as it tries to pick itself up... and decides that it's not going to move very fast just yet.
Jareth takes another deep breath and concentrates more firmly on the one that he seems to have grazed and takes another shot. For the moment, he tries to call on the male essence in this lifetime.
The redcap Jareth hits jerks as if electrocuted, gibbering incoherently as its mad, hungry charge ends in a stagger that brings it to its knees.
Norris makes a grim sound as his mace finally hits home against the wild redcap...he feels flesh and bone give way under his blow. Not a fatal one, but harder than he's ever hit anyone or anything before. It makes it more real, to him, feeling it as he did.
Mikal is still standing rock-steady at the top of the boulder, her wings slightly spread to maintain her balance. She draws back the bowstring to her cheek, her eyes serene, and fires again.
The last redcap who had charged with the first one takes Mikal's arrow in the chest as well, spinning it around and making it collapse to the ground in a foul heap.
The redcap that had been hit so very hard by Norris's bull-headed maul, seems to be nothing less than insane with hunger or just plain insane. Even though it bleeds out on the green grass while doing it, its teeth and black beard wet and stained with its own blood, it swings its pikestaff at Norris, attempting to gut him, to get at least one precious spurt of blood from the mortal. Weakened, however, the redcap makes a pitiful showing, and as the pikestaff whiffs past Norris's groin, the redcap faceplants into the ground, unconscious.
Raphael darts forward with a snarl. There's a short chopping sound -- and the redcap's nearly decapitated body slowly slides back down the boulder, leaving a dark smear behind. The big raptor-wolf spits, looking disgusted.
Norris grimaces. "I'll give you something to wash out the taste later, old wolf." he murmurs.
Raphael snorts in grim amusement and goes back to his wary crouch, covering Norris's side.
Norris just brings his mace to bear again. In the end, he realizes he just wants this to be over. They're just monsters, and not worthy of the effort to hate. Deal with them, and let it be done.
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