[center][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/10cb2114-ba87-4e29-a27b-473887c54d14.png[/img]
Fingers pushed tight together, Gyro Zeppeli held his right hand horizontally aloft, aligning the sun along the edge of his pointer.
[color=99ff99]“[i]Uno, due, tre, quattro[/i]…Five o’clock in the evening.”[/color]

[youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8DRqj0vkzZ8[/youtube]

Musing to hhimself, he idly stroked Valkyrie’s neck to soothe him. [color=99ff99]“If sunset is six, then it must be five. Only one hour…”[/color] lowering his hand, he placed both upon his hips and held his head high.

[img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/539e986b-1170-4ce6-adef-e306f68ddd6d.png[/img]

[color=99ff99]“..One hour to make it to that flying machine, before nightfall. One hour to salvage what I can and take off.” 

“One hour…”[/color]

[img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/f558e31b-d545-4824-aced-202055f9ffe3.png[/img]
[i]ⁿʸᵒ-ʰᵒ![/i]

[color=99ff99]“Is much too generous for a travelling man such as Gyro Zeppeli!”[/color]
Turning back, he reached for his hat and doffed his cap, his toothy grin relaxing into a humble smile. [color=99ff99]“Much love, oh Lady Luck.”[/color]
Placing his hat upon his head, Gyro reached to grab Valkyrie’s reins and arched down low. His smile slacked into a smirk, and he squinted ahead to the smoke trail drifting over the horizon.

[img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/f10225b2-b675-4e64-a68e-ee3f79fe20f8.jpg[/img]

[color=99ff99]“I’ll follow your gifts to reach the [color=ffff80]‘right path’[/color]—wherever it takes me.”[/color]
Kicking his heels, he spurred his steed forward, into the unknown—into the [color=ffff80]flow[/color], and towards the [color=ff4d4d]calamity.[/color]

[h1]. . .[/h1]

To the group ahead, Gyro’s approach was heralded by the distant sound of hooves clopping against the ground. Over the horizon he came, peering up from beneath the brim of his hat as he neared the site of the crash.
Evidently, he pondered with a furrowed brow, it seemed he had conspired to plunder an empty tomb.  

He said nothing to Luthor’s posse as they picked themselves up, stirring into consciousness or already up and inspecting their surroundings. Offering naught but a glare to the side, he brought Valkyrie down to a measured trot, steering him to pace around the fallen jet—just what was this strange contraption, able to fly and fall so far? Da Vinci created the Aerial Screw, yet it never left the ground—though with the [color=ffff80]Spin[/color], Gyro had theorised, perhaps it would indeed be possible. Yet this looked nothing like the sketches he had seen from his studies: Winged instead of propelled; this was a sleeker, metallic vessel, like a fancy carriage, or one of Benz’s horseless automobiles. 
Feh. Like those things would ever catch on. 

Indeed, there seemed to be no way for this craft to utilise the [color=ffff80]Spin[/color]—and even a man with such worldly wisdom as Gyro hadn’t a clue how it could fly otherwise. 
But regardless, he didn’t think it was going anywhere now, with that bullet lodged through its wing.

And if he could hardly comprehend the nature of this strange vehicle, then the decor of its crash site was something he found well and truly bizarre: Who in Mother Mary’s name decorated this infernal cuckooland? The pantomime’s Pierrot? 
It almost resembled a children’s playhouse, yet it was in a dismal state indeed: The sized up, soiled statues of toy soldiers crept into a valley of uncanniness—from the corner of his eye, they almost appeared to be real people, lurking in the shadows to strike out at him. 
He couldn’t help but to steer Valkyrie away from them, and towards the group that had gathered. 

He really should be leaving. That felt like the obvious path to take: He wasn’t going to be salvaging anything if whatever he salvaged still had a living owner—or owners. But the obvious, easy path rarely seemed to be the right one—the detour, he found, was often the shortest path. Why else would that vessel fall from the heavens if not to guide him to this place? 
There was a [color=ffff80]path[/color] being set for him. It was his choice to follow it. 

[color=99ff99]“It’d be stupid to go anywhere so soon,”[/color] he spoke aloud, to no one in particular. He kicked back out from his horse’s stirrups, unhooking his feet and swinging his right leg over to the left. [color=99ff99]“We might be safe right now, but…”[/color] With a twist, he undid the clasp on his right-hand leather pouch, reaching for his hip to unholster his trusty instrument.

[youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hrXcLnZqSeI[/youtube]

[color=99ff99]“The Chinese have a weapon called the “Huo Long Chu Shui”: That’s “fire dragon out of the water”.”[/color] Gyro crouched down to the ground, brushing aside any dirt or debris to create a flat surface upon which he rested his [color=39b54a]Steel Ball[/color]. He held onto it still, observing the surrounding area. [color=99ff99]“It’s a long thick tube, propelled by gunpowder and packed full of arrows. And you’ve got one stuck in the armour of your flying machine.” [/color]
He looked up from his work to meet the gaze of anyone listening, looking straight at their eye—not into, as if to make contact, but at, as if to study. 
[color=a2d39c]“There you are,”[/color] he mouthed silently, lowering down from his crouch to lay belly down upon the floor. 
[color=99ff99]“Someone’s after you. Which means they'll be after me now, too.”[/color] 
He concentrated on the [color=39b54a]Steel Ball[/color], raising his shoulder and arching his elbow. He gripped the sphere tightly, turning his head, and subtle sparks of gold flashed between his forearm and fingers until he flicked his wrist and…
[color=39b54a]The Ball[/color] began to spin. Spinning, spinning…endlessly, perfectly—very nearly, almost perfectly. 
[color=99ff99]“Let’s see if we can find them…” [/color]

Pushing himself forward with his elbows and knees, Gyro placed his ear beside the [color=39b54a]Steel Ball.[/color] 
His brow furrowed. His vision cleared and focused, unburdened by peripheral distractions. He placed his hand out, flat upon the ground, and felt it: The vibrations of the [color=ffff80]Golden Spin[/color], echoing through the ground. 

[img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/0cc892af-2333-4ffb-9b12-faafef695e25.png[/img]

[color=99ff99]“Bats have perfectly fine eyesight, you know. It’s just a myth that they’re blind—their eyes are just meant for seeing in the dark. To help them, though, they use something called ‘echolocation’...Sound waves, vibrating through the air, allow them to detect movement. This…”[/color]
Momentarily he broke his focus, casting a glance to [color=39b54a]Ball.[/color]
[color=99ff99]“...Is much the same. Let us see…” [/color]

Okay, the crowd off to his right was there. He didn’t need to echolocate them—who else? Who was lurking about, perhaps to pick off the stragglers? Or perhaps their crash was calculated—perhaps someone was waiting for them here, or further into the steel mill? 
He had once detected nearly a dozen men approaching from a distance further than his naked eye could see: If anyone was indeed nearby, he could easily detect their presence. 

[@Thatguyinastore] [i](GM Post RE: Echolocation), Open interaction[/i]
[/center]