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The tumultuous approach of this new foe put Frans Vou on edge. The young knight turned his head towards the sound, keeping his shield up and facing towards the yet unseen marksman hidden amongst the trees. Where they to be surrounded and outflanked by this unknown enemy? What bandit might have set such a trap for their arrival? Was it so common that companies of ragtag mercenaries stopped by this lonesome witch’s hunt in the forest, therein justifying the creation of this flanking maneuver? Perhaps this was indeed the case, and the corpses already littering the ground like so many fallen leaves were a testament to this fact. Frans Vou did not know for sure, neither did he care, upon his mind alone was his immediate survival. He recalled only moments before the dawi slipping into the tree line to deal with their hidden sniper, if fortune would have it he would be successful in his endeavors and allow for the remainder of the Esteemed Company to face this new threat head-on without fear of an arrow piercing their unprotected backs. Frans Vou did not know the dwarf well enough to be assured the small one would bring down the aggressor, but as fate would have it he had little choice in the matter. Balgrim had proven himself a determined and experienced campaigner if nothing else. And Frans Vou saw no other option but to entrust the dwarf with his life.

Wheeling on his toes the knight Errant set himself with good posture beside his Estalian employer, sword and shield raised in preparation for battle, prepared to face vile men and bandits when a foe he could never have expected burst from the trees.

Frans Vou wasn’t sure what to make of this creature. It was about as lofty as Frans Vou himself from its head to its hooves, though if it’s curving horns were added to its height it might have stood nearly eight feet tall. It was loosely garbed and covered mostly in mangy brown fur that stank of mud and mildew. The ungor, for that was what it was, could have been best described as a goat with the body and face of man. He disgusted Frans Vou to no end, and the high classed Breton curled his lip at the untasteful miscreant wishing nothing more than to shove his sword betwixt the thing’s hideous face. Frans Vou had never seen one himself before, but one of his elder brothers had been slain by a stray one while out hunting back when he had been but a lad of thirteen. Frans Vou’s father and a hundred yeomen had hunted the beast down in vengeance and brought back its horns which even to this day hung over the mantle in the Bluspereaux estate.

The first of the beastmen was soon joined by over a score more. They filled the local woods with the sound of their pounding hooves and baleful grunts while waving a variety of malicious weaponry over their heads. They appeared unperturbed by the stalwart defense presented to them by Frans Vou and Severo, perhaps because the fight was currently seven to one in their eyes, or maybe the untimely retreat of the ice mage who fled like a women from the fight. “Stand zee ground boursiers” Frans Vou yelled over the oncoming foe. “Zer is no honor in running away! We shall die ze death of heroes!” Of course death was the farthest thing from Frans Vou’s intentions. Raising a bone whistle which had been hidden under his collar he blew thrice upon it, sending up a shrill cry that echoed throughout the trees, he made as if to blow a fourth time when the leading ungor set upon him, swinging a club to crush the Breton’s skull.

The whistle fell forgotten at Frans Vou’s feet, to be crushed by a hoof a moment later. The man’s fullest attention was upon not being slain by the beast standing a hairsbreadth away. Bringing his shield into play Frans Vou smashed the snarling face eliciting a sharp pained cry from the ungor. But before Frans Vou could slay the beast outright a second one pressed in close jabbing at the knight’s stomach with his spear. The dull blade turned on the gambeson and Frans hacked open the opportunistic beastman’s face, his sword blade clanging off the creature’s horns. Once again it crossed Frans Vou’s mind how fortunate it would have been to have dressed in full armor, but there was nothing for it but to continue the fight as was.

Armor or no Frans Vou was in full form now. His years of professional training in the battleschools of Bretonnia brought out the almost instinctive acts of a deadly warrior as he stepped over the two wounded ungor and slew another, stabbing his sword through its beating heart and leaving it to bleed out upon the forest floor. There was no mercy in the knight Errant’s heart and he dispatched the first two permanently, with a series of quick thrusts until they lay motionless. The ungor, although not slowed in their charge eyed the young knight with a new respect, of fighters not wishing to share the fate of those who had faced him first. One of their number, a massive ungor wielding a machete-like sword stepped forth exchanging a series of furious blows with the Breton and even forcing him to step back and rejoin Severo. Their confidence restored by this display of skill from one of their own the beastmen sought to outflank surround the battling mercenaries, but doing so far more cautiously than before.

I'm holding out that @River Goblin will someday return.







I think we ought to do the time skip now, unless you've got something very important planned for this meeting Rockin. I feel this scene is killing the RP since nothing is really happening. Also we need some way to get Tenma back into the lineup and I think a little action should do so nicely.
Waiting patiently for Poyzz to puzzle over his riddle Ossar slithered across to Beek where the miniature eagle had just finished eating his chocolate and was setting up a game board. It was still massive for the kwami, even in its miniaturized form. Pulling out the rule book the snake tilted his head from one side to the next pouring over the intricacies of the game. It was nice that they got the chance to relax and do something inconsequential for once. It was a pleasant breather from the constant action from before. Still, there remained an air of concern reside over the group. The looming problems they sought to ignore for even that short space of time hung over them like overripe fruit, just waiting to fall and make itself known. Ossar could almost taste it and the rest of their posse seemed aware as well. The usually cheerful and friendly Hoppi was quiet, the energetic Poyzz sat still, and Beek. Well Beek was being Beek.

When Poyzz gave up on the riddle Ossar looked a bit indignant. “Harder? Heavens no my friend, that was an easy one. I gave ye a bone due to our time apart, as I thought thou might hath become lenient in your capacity to resolve my more complex puzzles. I had close to a hundred years to devise them after all.” Closing his eyes Ossar attempted to think of a way he could give the ferret a hint, without giving the game away entirely. “What do liars’ hate, alongside those who seek to hide me? What do the wise seek, alongside justice and police? Come on now I rhyme with tooth, I am the…?”


Intrigued, naturally.
The one-eighty turn of events left even the sharp witted Naefario reeling in surprise. His fist pounded against the steel overlays covering the control panels in frustration, denting the protective durasteel but doing little else. Not only had the Ranger locked down in opposition to his incursion, his own crew was failing miserably at quelling the turmoil on the Gorefill’s battle torn bridge. The weaselly lackey he’d left in charge before was now dead, safe from Naefario’s sure retribution along with a dozen or so pirates who lay in grotesque forms upon the deck. Those who’d survived the ambush-counterattack scattered like cockroaches fleeing the light, scurrying into the dark corners of the Gorefill to hide from the avenging smugglers. A soft growl rumbled in Naefario’s throat and he cast about for some solution to this unexpected situation. Everything was suddenly turning against him on a dime, and surely the ruthless bitch he wished to make his wife would be along shortly to end him once and for all. Despite his worsening situation Naefario still had one advantage, with which he could negotiate his way out. Leaving Jean groaning on the command pad Naefario stalked over to Takashi’s unconscious form, grasping him by his tail and dragging him over to where the best cover available, Ursa’s command chair, sat. Depositing Takashi upon the chair like sack of potatoes Naefario turned just in time to see Jean crumple upon the floor, reaching for the forgotten pistol.

Quick as a cat Naefario leapt upon the discarded weapon, tossing it across the room and out of reach. Leering down at Jean, he scooped the hapless man up and placed him down next to Takashi, creating a human and chair shield with which to protect himself should anyone storm the Ranger’s bridge. “Nay, not today. Now listen here fish, yer gonna ‘elp me get out o’ this mess alive, an’ ye’ll do it by being silent n’ still. Nary a word out o’ ye, or I’ll blow yer head off, an’ th’ head o’ this’un too. Understand?"

Jean grimaced, wiping a dribble of blood from his nose. “I think you’ll find Miz Cooper don’t give a damn ‘bout me, nor th’ lizard an’ will happily blow us both apart just to get at you. Best bugger off fore’ her n’ th’ crew come to make your day even worse.” The bluff was good, and for a moment Jean thought he saw a glimmer of fear in Naefario’s eyes but it was soon gone, replaced by an ugly hiss.

“Be it as it may, I have no other choice. Not another word if ye value yer life fish.” Jean’s sullen silence was the only answer Naefario needed and the pirate captain clenched his metallic fist, his teeth grinding as different weapons clanked and clacked, cycling through his more devious cybernetic contraptions. “Sides’” Naefario said, more for his own consultation then to provide a witty reply to Jean’s warning. “Even if she’s my kinda gal, n’ kills ye outright, jus’ to get at me as ye say. I still bested ye n’ th’ lizard, an’ I c’n kill a hundred foes meself, single handed if need be.” His cybernetic hand whirled to a stop on a particularly nasty gun, the carbon disintegrator; specifically designed to slowly melt away carbon based life forms. The weapon was illegal in all sectors, and had a reputation for being one of the most painful killing mechanisms ever invented, after chloric acid to the face naturally. “This’ll do th’ trick.”

“REPLACE ITS HEAD HAHAHAHAHA!” From behind Naefario, in the suddenness of a lightning strike a single sparking pink robot rose from the ground rushing towards Naefario’s turned back in a whirlwind of burned florescent paint and lobotomy saws. Only his speed and well-honed reactions saved the pirate from a nasty incisor cut on the back of his thigh. Kicking the robot away Naefario raised his fist firing six bolts from the Carbon Disintegrator straight into Taylor’s robotic face. The funny thing about robots however, is that they are made of very little carbon, and Naefario only realized his mistake after Taylor lurched forward stabbing a scalpel into his gut. The pirate’s eyes bulged and he reached back to smash the bot into smithereens with his enhanced strength when a knife buried itself into his plate armor, scaring the brown flesh beneath. Naefario whirled, registering that Jean was standing, his arm outstretched as if he’d just thrown something, only for a second scalpel to find itself a new home under Naefario’s knee cap. His legs buckling under him Naefario fired a continuous beam towards Jean from the Carbon Disintegrator forcing the cowboy to take cover.

Jean ducked and rolled narrowly avoiding a grisly death as the purple beam burned the air where his head had been moments before. The knife, hidden for so long in his boot had been practically useless against the giant dreadlocked bug. He needed a firearm of some kind, and the closest one was across the room, with a clear line of vision for Naefario. And Jean didn’t think the pink bot was going to last too long alone against the pirate menace. Knowing there was nothing left for it Jean swiped off his hat, hurling the leather based headwear across the room. Naefario’s automatic targeting computer locked onto the spinning target disintegrating it in a second, which left Jean enough time to scramble away while also giving Taylor enough time to jab a third scalpel into Naefario’s body. The pirate, now resembling an ugly pincushion roared in pain, but resisted the urge to rip the bot into scrap metal, instead focusing onto the much more prevalent threat.

Leaping over the chair Naefario grunted and winced, limping across the bridge, firing again and again as Jean ducked and dodged the deadly Carbon Disintegrator. “I’M GONNA TURN YE TO ASH FISH!” The pirate screamed, spittle and green blood spattering everywhere. Behind him Taylor’s insane laughing continued and the pink bot pursed the fleeing Naefario a dozen scalpels raised in the air.

Takashi opened one eye lazily, his foggy brain taking in the scene of utter chaos before closing his eye once more, preferring to remain unconscious rather than engage in the madness occurring all around him.

Jean reached his revolver even as Naefario skidded to a halt a mere five feet away, his arm raised, ready to kill. Over the stereo the music changed to Sabaton’s Back In Control, and a feral grin grew on Jean’s face.

In a flurry of movement the two combatants engaged in the dance of death, the evil snarl on Naefario’s face matching Jean’s own. Deadly bolts were exchanged back and forth within the space of a heartbeat and the stale cabin air grew hot with the fury of their combat. Jean’s skill showed itself to the tenth degree and he scored half a dozen hits in the first half second, avoiding Naefario’s two shots altogether. However the pirate’s tough chest armor proved itself worthwhile, taking the plasma rounds and holding its integrity. Deciding to take the fight where he felt more comfortable Naefario closed the distance with an impressive jump just as the music took a more intense turn, his hand raised to strike. “S’DEATH ON THE WIND BILDGESCUM!”

Then, like a MLB player sliding for home plate Jean launched himself under the airborne pirate taking several shots at Naefario’s nether regions as he went by. “FUCK YOOOOOOOOOOU!”

Naefario landed hard, dropping to his knees and looking as if he’d rip the heart out of the devil himself if he was close enough to grab. He raised his head to scream obscenities at Jean when Taylor shoved a scalpel into his eye. Cybernetics sparking and shorting out Naefario struggled to his feet, a plasma bolt ricocheting off his shoulder as he beat a hasty retreat off the bridge, scrabbling at his face all the while.

Jean picked himself up, dusting off his jeans and vest, and wiping blood from his lip. Beside him Taylor’s insane laughter subsided into crazed chuckles, both looked worse for wear but were somehow still alive. Raising his pistol to his lips Jean blew away the smoke shifting his gaze to eye the durable pink bot sitting next to him.
“Taylor... Holy fuck I officially name you my deputy.”

What’s the goal here? I think once this is done, we should do a time skip for a week later and have the next villain appear.
His earlier concerns not forgotten Ossar drifted amongst his friends, all greetings given and received in their happy reunion. He truly appreciated the chance to talk to his old companions once more, but the kwami knew that it was only possible due to a grave error by their new masters. Not even four days in and already the four of them knew each other by name. Still, not wanting to spoil the good mood, and fully aware of the more carefree nature of his longtime companions Ossar kept his worries to himself, for now. He would broach the subject later. At the moment he embraced, and embraced again each of the three kwami in turn, pressing his rounded nose against each one’s forehead in a serpent’s kiss. “Indeed, such good tidings and friendly faces are a surely welcome sight for sore eyes.” He hissed rising a few inches off the floor and relaxing in midair. With a lazy flick of his head the snake closed his eyes, thinking for the briefest of moments before addressing Poyzz.

“Despised am I by knave and liar,
And after me the wise inquire.
Ask of me, what secrets hold?
Without a word I shall not fold.
In dark places I may expire,
But shall I rise over deceit and fire?
Find me out if ye require,
Of what am I, such deep desire?”
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