[@Kumbaris][@AWACS]

[center][h1]Micheal Crane...wait...what!?[/h1][/center]

Safety.

Or well for now really. Who really knows? 

Micheal can feel what is likely a hyper-extended shoulder and elbow dulling from painful to achey. He relaxed, hidden amidst the undergrowth. He's not exactly a combat mage so maybe he can be excused for letting his guard down? He's relaxing, and it's only a soft nudge and a gesture from Manbozho that gets his attention back. He opens his eyes and he looks at Scarlet, or Red as he's been calling her in his head. Likes the idea. Sounds more sexy. Anyway he looks at her and can see her kinda straightening.

The Shaman turns and spots the agents climbing down into the area. He narrow shis eyes and watches as they spread out. He shuffled carefully to Scarlet, and in a mouse quiet voice whispers, "They can't know we're actually here right? Just running some kinda search right?" His eyes follows the agents as they check the cars, then starts towards their little hiding place. Micheals eyes going wide then still in th at mouse quiet voice, "If I provide a few distractions, can you try and take them down? Me and the boys might be able to pull something out of our butts. But I'm not made for shooting spells like I did back with the abomination." He swallows thickly, "But I can cast illusions and hard ritual forms. Really well." He looks at Scarlet, then shifts over again grabbing out of the gear the gods grabbed for him luckily some of his instruments of his work. His pipe, and tomahawk.

He sat crosslegged and peered through a gap in the cover they hid within. Packed a bowl of ritual tobacco, lit up and smoked. blowing out smoke into the leaves to hide it from view. Muttering softly under his breath. Then looking at Raven. The god nodded, and in a burst of shadow vanished. Yes gods can teleport short ranges. Micheals eyes lit up with softly glowing blue light, The Sight, it's called amongst some magic users. Seeing things beyond the mortal sight. Mikey is really pulling out some stops here. He takes another puff blowing out the smoke again, nodding to Whiskeyjack who darts away through the shadows. Another puff and Shaman Crane looks to Manabozho, who wears the most evil grin yet any of the three tricksters has worn since they got here.

Micheal lets out a low chuckle. And he's wearing a grin that almost matches the evil grin his godly companion was just wearing. He lifts his pipe and takes another pull letting out a slow cloud of smoke, "[i]Aawos,[/i] you are not welcome here." He whispers in his chest spoken guttural mother tongue of Plains Cree, "[i]Aawos[/i], or face the fears, that all men feel." Another burst of smoke.

Across the field there's a sound of someone crying. Joined by another from the left flank of the operatives, and then joined by a howl from the right. Rising from the rear, skin hanging from it's form. A Skinwalker, but to Scarlet, it's Raven. The Skinwalker letting out a angry hissing cry at the operatives. From the left, Whiskeyjack stands. But to the operatives. Whitiko stands there. The 10 pointer deer horns atop it's head, coat of ravaged hides and might stone spear held in it's hands. And finally from their right, Wendigo, or Manabozho creeps forward. Wild ethereal horrors. Shrouded by ritual spells to look like horrors. The three gods step forth. The Three gods looking like they are really enjoying wearing the look of the Horrors of their homelands.

And Micheal whispers to Scarlet, "While they are watching them, see what you can do."