Aug 17 107 PA - Investigating dead livestock

From Chronicles

The town of Laramy is quite small, containing perhaps two thousand souls. It has one major street running through the middle of it that also just so happens to be the main trail that leads to and from the place. Nonetheless, there are many sidestreets and many shops and businesses that line them. There are parts of the town that are ill kempt and parts of it that look nice, one or two light industries in the middle and farmland on the outskirts. Really, it is just like any classic small town that one might imagine. The main business seems to be on tourism, or at least providing a few comforts to the transient people that make their way through here. It is easy for a weary adventurer to get a drink or a meal or a place to live. Basic facilities for repairing armor and charging E-Clips exist as well along with a few people who are very good at reloading SDC ordanance. It should be noted that there is an odd amount of law enforcement for a town this size -- provided by the Laramy Citizen's Militia. These people try to do right, but have seen their homes put to risk by one too many 'transient' problem. As such, they tend to shoot first and ask questions later. Just the same, almost every man in the town is ready to defend his home if required. But people mind their own business.... a long as you mind yours.

Erica is leaning against her large hovercycle. Her helmet is off and is sitting on the durable cycle seat. She was a good sized sandwich in her hands and is taking the occasional bite from it while she looks around at the town. Her armor looks like it has been newly painted and the grey camo paint job looks good.

Clop clop clop clop. There's quite the sight coming down the road. A clydesdale in full barding, shaggy white boots making headway on the hard packed clay trail. An eighteen inch horn gleams a creamy metallic color, obviously unmatching the stainless appearance of the rest of the armor, and atop her rides an oversized passenger. Heavy armor plates overlap to form a solid defense, while a lump at his back is unmistakable as a slimline jet pack. Three multi-optics eyes stare out at the world, and the rider slows as he draws near the cycle. "Think it had a mate?" comes Sebastien's voice, sounding a bit canned. He reaches back to adjust the way his shotgun rests in its sling, frowning. "Or an angry parent?"

Daeni emerges from the treeline with both vertical and horizontal movement as she leaves a branch for the ground. The recent signs of one or more predators, and presumably of some intelligence, at that, have drawn her. It might also explain why her attire also includes a layer of various hides stiched together for protection and a helm fashioned from the skull of some beast. She approaches the town proper with a solid stride.

Erica looks up at the sound of Sebastien's voice. "Perhaps. I am not sure, but I would like to get to the bottom of this. I'm not one to let a job go half done." She mentions before finishing off her sanwich and then brushing her hands clean. "I hope to be able to get some hints with my ability to do some tracking. Hopefully there will be some clues."

"Remember your thermo?" he asks, while reaching to tap his helmet. "The last time we were lucky, I think." The young francophone stands in his stirrups, balancing precariously there as he peers towards town, and with an amused smile notes, "The natives see us coming and grow restless. Perhaps they think we are the cause of their troubles?"

The loud rumble of an all-terrain vehicle can be heard as a dust cloud rises up in the close distance. A few minutes later, a battered looking NTI Diplodicus 6x6 rolls up and to a stop, its engine coming to a quiet stop. A tall dwarf comes out of the cab, his Carapace armor dented and patched in a few places. He straightens his beard, running a grubby looking hand down its length. "So...this is Laramy" he mutters, putting on a pair of goggles, "Needs some work in places." He continues, stepping fully down out of the machine and glancing about.

Actually scarce is a better word for the natives. Few people are about this morning, at the general store and saloon. But will a dozen cattle to butcher most of the villagers are probably doing that before the meats go to waste. The one active area is the Citizen's militia office. Their several member wait to update anyone who comes to help. A map of the area is posted with thumbtacks noting the kill sites. Pretty well spread.

"Find one hunting?" Daeni makes a nearly rhetorical inquiry of Erica and the armored man on horseback. If they had, they likely would not be here, loitering. The rumble and approach approach of the vehicle draws her attention, as does the dwarf pilot that exits. Thane receives a long survey, followed by a dip of Daeni's head in acknowledgement. Afterwards, she answers Sebastien's concerns. "I not hunt these."

Erica nods her head at Sebastien. "Well hopefully it isn't a dragon. Otherwise we will need a big group of people. But we will see." She licks her lips quickly then reaches back to grab a bottle of water. Sipping from the water she stands up from where she is leaning. Giving a nod to Daeni in greeting she looks over at the dwarf for a moment. "Well lets go see what the militia office has to say." She mentions while walking off in that direction with her helmet under her arm.

Thane looks down the main street of Laramy to the militia office. His bushy eyebrows furrow in concenration momentarily, as he grabs a rifle and places a sidearm on his side. Checking the straps of the armor, he mutters to himself. He gets a few sundry items and places them on their designated place on his armor, and then picks up his helmet. He shuts the door to the Diplo, locking it, and begins to stomp off toward the Militia Office.

Sebastien reaches forward to tap his horse's neck, who obediently drops her head as he kicks his left leg over her neck and falls to the ground. At his right hip is a broad, strange-looking scabbad, while his right just holds a short tube. Strange. He whistles low and points at the hovercycle, uttering, "Sara, keep an eye on that." The horse tosses her head and stops there, by the hovercycle, shifting a little in the afternoon breeze. Sebastien steps up alongside Daeni and eyes her, voice rich with a smile as he waves towards Thane. "All we need now is a halfling an' we got ourselves a party," he muses, voice perhaps familiar. He follows the stumpy Dwarf towards the office, glancing back at the Elf as he goes.

Daeni likewise shifts her attention, and location, towards those of the town that are working to solve the problem. The familiar voice with the mirthful comment causes her to eye Sebastien more thoroughly (warily?) as they move. "Is better have elf, dwarf."

The militia officers look over the approching party with mild specualtion. Some have been seen about the are before, some have not. But today all manner of help is being welcomed. "Hello there. Come to help investigate or butcher?" the citizen maning the desk asks with a welcome smile. Amicable given the condition of the visit.

Erica places her hands hands on the desk and leans forward a bit. She looks around at the small group around her before turning back to the officer. "I think we are all here to investigate. What can you tell us about what happened? Where did it happen?" She asks while reaching into her utility belt and takes out a small notebook and pencil.

Thane raises a bushy eyebrow at the man's greeting. "Butcher? What do you mean by that, manling?" He gazes towards the other members of the party, and then to Erica as she begins to ask questions of the militia man. He harumps a bit, "Butcher. Bah." He grumbles a bit more while retrieving his own notepad and pen, glancing up at the militiaman as if waiting for him to respond Erica's questions.

"...Yes!" Sebastien replies as he wanders inside the Militia office. "I have come to 'investigate' the rectum of a dragon with my chainsaw!" Subtle as always, Sebastien is. He leans against the rear wall, clinking as his rifle sways and bumps against his suit. "Have any people been attacked, or just livestock?"

"Here to find hunter, make prey." Daeni offers a simple, yet accurate description of her purpose to the man. As she does not spend time to retrieve writing materials, she looks instead to Sebastien the rectal probe. "If dragon, be good hunt." Her attention then returns to the man to await his answers to Erica's questions.

The militia citizen nods to each in turn though a wary glance is given to Thane at the mention of manling, and his scoff. This is then trumped completely by Sebastions bold claim.. "Um first of all there is no indication this was done by a dragon. Just unfortunate for another attacke to come so soon after the dragon's. No we believe this was done by a single or a few disturbed individuals. As you've probably already heard, last night a dozen cattle were killed and various organs harvested from them. Two furry beetles were also killed. We believe they attacked the beetles first, but then went on to easier prey. Further information is being gathered through the butchering."

Erica nods her head while she writes down a few notes to herself on her notebook. "Can you give us directions then to the site of the furry beetle attacks? Maybe we can come up with a few clues assuming they haven't been destroyed by now. Were the same organs taken from each creature? Can you radio me if you find out anything else in the butchering?" She asks the militia member while turning to the side slightly. "Well would you all like to check out the furry beetle attacks?" She says to Daeni, Thane, and Sebastien.

"Just organs?" Sebastien wonders. "Not meat, then?" He hunches his shoulders. The helmet makes his mood hard to read, but he seems disappointed at the lack of Big Green and Scaly. He raises a gauntlet, and makes for the door. "I'll be back. Checking in on your local chefs. Maybe someone's making a nice fresh pate?" He slips out the door, angling for the inn.

Thane sighs, flipping closed the notebook and putting away the pen, "Clearly a font of information", he mutters, before turning toward Erica and the others, "I'm more than happy to check out the fury beetle attack. Names Thane, by the way, Thane Irongut." He offers that as he picks back up his helmet off the floor, then watches Sebastien go.

Daeni nods to Erica. "Start strongest prey. Easy kill cow. Where beetles attacked?" She looks from Erica to the man with the queestion. They may be able to find a trail, or tracks to indicate the cause, at the least.

"The black tack on the map denotes the pasture where the beetles were hit. The butchering has just begun so we dont actually have any more details right now. But we are keeping an open com for updates. Channel 37 is the Laramy Militia, all updates will be reported there." The militia man explains with a gesture to the map. The map shows the pasture East north East of the main village, about 3 miles out.

Erica pulls her helmet up and over her head. She makes sure the seal is airtight before nodding her head. "Ok want to follow me? Lets park a ways off so we don't destroy any clues." She says while looking over the map. After a moment studying the maps she motions for the others to join her as she makes her way back over to where her hovercycle was parked.

Daeni leans forward to peer at the indicated map. After a moment of study, she nods and turns to make the journey. "We go." While she will accompany the others, she does display some haste in departing the office, itself.

The party moves into the surrounding farmland east north eat of the village, towards the notated location. The travel is easy given the good weather and terrain. Minutes later the site comes into view, half a dozen villagers cluster around two beetle carcasses, harvesting their meat before they spoil.

Erica pulls up short on her hovercycle and stops. She dismounts quickly and then starts searching the area for any clues or tracks. She stays aways from the villagers, knowing that they have likely already destroyed any tracks near them.

Thane brings the lumbering Diplo 6x6 to a halt, well short of the small knot of villagers removing meat from the fallen Fury Beetles. He frowns as he climbs down from the cab, his bushy eyebrows coming together, "Well. With them carving on the Beetles, we likely won't be able to tell anything from wounds." He reaches in and grabs his helmet, taking a brief opportunity to seal on the gloves. That done, he grabs the L20 pulse rifle from the rack in the cab of the vehicle, climbind down once more. He looks to Daeni for a brief second, his eyes lingering on her pointed ears momentarily. He frowns a bit, then turns towards Erica.

Daeni frowns as they arrive, even if the butchering is a wise move. "Will ruin sign." She quickens her pace to near the carcasses rapidly, then slows as her eyes drop to the ground in search of markings. With any good fortune, there will be some track not easily attributed to the villagers.

Erica looks over the ground and shakes her head slowly. "Looks like a bit less then a dozen humanoids came around here when it happened. I bet they needed the organs for something. Maybe some magic thing." She says before looking over towards Daeni. "What have you found?"

Thane looks about on the ground, oblivious to any tracks if they were there. He does move out a bit from the crowds, and starts to look for vehicle tracks, or other anomalies. He pays special attention looking for armor fragments. Fury Bettles aren't known for being passive when getting slaughtered, and it there was any sort of counter attack by the beetles, their strength would make it likely for armor fragmentation.

Daeni comes to a sudden halt in her investigation as her path moves towards the edge of the clearing. She crouches to study her discovery a moment before glancing over her shoulder to Erica. "Footprint. Maybe point wrong way." Her focus turns abruptly to those butchering and she calls out, "You come this way?" A gesture of her hand indicates the woods opposing the print. It seems an unlikely path for the villagers to take, but she wishes to be more certain of the clue.

Erica walks over in the direction of Daeni and bends down to investigate the print. She gnaws on her lower lip on the inside of her helmet as she looks at the print. "I doubt they came this way. It looks like a group or groups of humanoids is resbonsible for this. The question now turns to why they would need these organs."

Thane continues to spiral outward from the small knot of villagers, his bushy brows furrowed in concentration. "Bah" he says, "I'm not finding anything if there is anything to be found out here." He begins to walk toward the others.

The villagers pause what they are doing to consider the investigating trio. "No." One indignantly replies before they all resume their task. Apparently they are not keep to interruptions..

"May be ones seek." Daeni straightens and begins to move once more, now to follow the track into the woods in search of others, and those who made them. "Many why. Not hunters, not take meat." Whomever they are and whatever their reasons, Daeni has no qualms with correcting their errors.

Erica follow alongside Daeni as she waves to Thane to follow. "Come on there Thane. I think we have at least a bit of a clue as to the direction that they came from. Hopefully we can follow them." She says while her helmeted head looks this way and that to search for further clues.

Thane waves off Erica, "Short stubby legs....Can't keep up with you long legged folk. I'll be along momentarily." He pulls his helmet on, sealing it down with a hiss as he shoulders his pulse rifle, and begins to follow after the duo.

Back At Laramy:

Mid morning finds the village a bit scarce. Few people are about this morning, at the general store and saloon. But will a dozen cattle to butcher most of the villagers are probably doing that before the meats go to waste. The one active area is the Citizen's militia office. Their several member wait to update anyone who comes to help. A map of the area is posted with thumbtacks noting the kill sites. Pretty well spread.

Libre approaches the map and militia members. After a cursory look at the map he leans over toward one of the militia, "What's happening out around here today?"

A man walking through an obviously strange village limps awkwardly, as if the armor that he wears is uncomfortable and out of character. Still, he manages to wander silently - as far as voice goes, not walking - over to the militia, apparently just listening.

The militia member gives a libre a speculative glance, looking for Sarcasm in the question. "Hmm lets see, a dozen cattle and two furry beetles got killed last night by someone demented. Does that count?"

The man -- well, who knows, maybe it's a woman -- in the scarred armor takes a half-step back, and the head and helmet awkwardly leaning to the right and turning slightly to the left, with body language clearly saying, "Huh?" Yes, simply "Huh?" The armored fingers, gauntlets, they might be called, reach and loosen the unique pistol at his side, and the sling of the rifle over his shoulder.

Libre nods in response. "I suppose it would. I take it that they weren't just poached then? Was there some mutilation or something particularly gross about the killings?" Libre runs his hand s through his hair as he considers the possibilities of demented cattle slayings.

There's a muffled "mff-ff whne hwhathe" that comes from within the helmet, then some slapping of armored palm against the forehead, then finally the whole helmet is removed. Oh, it is a man. He tucks the helmet awkwardly under his arm. It's that new guy, who may or may not be memorable. In a strangely accented twang, he asks, "At the risk of sounding like a fool, what's a furry beetle?"

Libre recognizes the new fella' and greets him with, "Hey there Gabriel, you've made it a little ways from Kingsdale." Then to actually answer his question, "They're big suckers with a bunch of legs, hurts when they step on your foot too."

The militia man nods to Libre. "Yes, the animals were all killed for some of their organs it seems. Which and why is currently being determined on site. We just sent out another group to the Furry beetle site. 3 miles east north east." he explains before raiseing a brow to speculate at the 'fool'. "Giant dumb bugs that taste absolutley delicious. Seriously, order a furry burget at the saloon if you dont believe me."

Libre takes the opportunity to ask an important question of the militia man before him. "I think I'd like to head out and take a look myself but I seem to be a bit "squishy" today. Any chance that someone in town has some cheap armor like The Bandito or such? I just got paid today for a little job I did so I find myself in the market." Libre gives his biggest friendly smile to the militia man.

The armored, armed man just kind of shrugs and looks a little blank. "Huh. Furry beetle. Never seen one of those back home." He seems to put his hands together as if to indicate that he finds four inches giant, but doesn't actually speak of it. Instead, he fastens the rifle back into place over his shoulder - after checking to see that the magazine is sufficiently seated. He looks up at the Sun, checks a cheap watch wrapped around his left wrist, and plops his helmet awkwardly back on his head.

The militia member scoffs at libre, shaking his head. "What do you think this is a rental shop? You should be alright if you dont wander into the wilderness. Most of the farmhands nad some of the farmers work out there in plain clothes and do alright."

Libre appears happy to hear that as his smile grows slightly larger. "Good to hear." Then over to Gabriel, "If you're planning to head out and take a look, you want a little company?"

The helmet turns and the eyes can be seen, but all that can be heard is another, "mmfe ahw- fwheh" before the hands reach up and take off the odd piece of armor. The eyes roll, and the twang says, "Guy told me to wear this stuff when I leave the city." He shrugs. "I guess it can't hurt, as long as I'm not trying to sneak up on something." After looking at Libre for a short time, there is a spark of recognition, and a smile. "Sure, sure. Libre, right? Yeah, I'd love company out here."

Libre bends down to tighten his shoes on his feet. It's unlikely that the shine on them will last the day. "Yeah, Gabriel. Good memory. I wasn't expecting to do much more than meet the locals today."

The sound of fast moving air following a faster moving vehicle can be heard approaching, and A young man wearing a pair of black sun glasses and riding a Speedster hovercycle soars in, descending quickly. The noise from the engine is loud enough to be obnoxious, and the jetwash from the exhaust nozzles kicks up dust and a bit of dirt as he settles in. "Hey there..."

The helmet is hooked onto a small latch on the man's waist, clearly still not quite comfortable in the suit. His head dips down to look at his plastic edifice. "A skirt. I have no idea where I am, and I'm walking around in a damn skirt." His head his shaken side to side, and he looks to the two men nearby. "This is ridiculous. Look like one of those damn fairy sailors passing the equator." A slightly off-center gauntleted hand is raised to the newcomer in a clear gesture of greeting. "Good day, sir."

Libre takes in the new arrival and gives him a welcoming wave as he returns to standing. "You wouldn't be headed out to the cattle mutilations would ya? My buddy and I were just about to head that way." He motions to Gabriel as he speaks.

Jackson grins under his shades and nods. "If that's where they are then ya I am. Heard they needed some help out here. Want me to follow you guys or do one of you need a lift?"

The guy with the helmet hook looks at the machine with an arched eyebrow. The armor makes a rather clanky shrug, and he offers, "Sure, it beats walking in this getup. As long as you're not going to crash that... ah.." there's a moment of hesitation as the man searches for a word. Finally, "Flying machine."

Libre raises his hand with a sheepish grin. "I could use a little aid with locomotion at this time." Libre tucks his shirt in tightly where it had pulled out slightly while tying his shoe. "But I suppose if someone needs to jog along I can do it better than he can in armor."

Jackson just shakes his head. "Tell ya what.. If you have the skills, I'll let you two ride my cycle and I'll fly along next to you. Just don't wreck it, deal?" He offers, settling the machine down in the dust, where it was hovering an inch or two off the ground before.

There's a chuckle. "Fly that thing? If by fly, you mean barrel into a wall or drop out of the sky, sure, I can do it." Clearly, by the tone, it's meant as friendly banter and sarcasm - with a good dose of truth. He nods though and extends a hand to the man who he considers to be the newcomer. The graying hair wafts a little in a sudden breeze. "Gabriel. Good to meet you, sir. One way or another, I'll get where I'm going. But right now, I would certainly appreciate the companionship, even of a stranger." He manages a big smile at Libre, "Good to see you again."

Entering the Swamp:

Both girls track the fugitives fairly efficiently for a few more miles into the wilderness until the reach a swamp. There the rank smell of decay looms and tracking becomes nearly impossible..

Daeni's nose wrinkles at the smell, adding to the frown as the ground becomes too soft to hold prints. "Now harder find." The words are hushed. With the ground providing no more information, her eyes sweep their surroundings. At the least, the dwarf will be able to catch up easily enough.

Erica frowns inside her helmet as she squats down to look at the moist, soft ground. "Yes this will make it much more difficult. Lets see what we can find though." She says as she uses the optics system in her helmet to zoom in on anything that might be humanoid tracks. "Turning her head for a moment she looks back at the dwarf. "I hope you are keeping up ok there."

The dwarf has fallen behind, spouting curses to whatever gods will hear him in his native tongue. They come out of the loudspeaker in a tinny sounding voice as he wades through muck well above his knees. Catching up to Erica and Daeni, he stops as he's addressed, "Just peachy. I love walks through the wilderness. At least I can't smell the air" he taps his helmet, his voice sounding like he's in a can, "And the mosquitoes here aren't big enough to carry me off, at least yet." He continues to close the distance, his feet and legs making squishy sucking noises as he walks in the fragrant mud.

For the time being it looks like the trail has gone cold as nothing unusual seems to disturb the swamp aside from the cursing dwarf.

"If stick in mud, will pull out." Daeni offers Thane some quiet reassurance, then resumes her steps. The only sensors she relies upon are her own senses, and her movement is intentionally kept as quiet as possible through the muck. She begins with the last known direction of travel and spirals outward from there.

Erica frowns around as she is unable to discover any clues as to where their quarry went. She moves a little deeper into the swamp to look around while she keeps an eye out on Daeni and Thane to make sure they are ok.

Thane stops moving, electing to take a drink from his canteen. He removes the canteen from its case, pushing the top into the attachment on his body armor that permits water consumption from it. He moves to the drink tube within in canteen, taking a long pull from the liquid therein, before removing the canteen and placing it back in its place. He shoots the thumbs up sign to Erica as he watches Daeni through the nearly transparent helmet faceplate.

Daeni has no immediate success and presses forward. She may be subject to the stench, but it is preferable to eliminating a valuable sense. As well, it would be difficult for her hide protection to offer life support. With no discovery to inform the others, and no desire to mark their presence should quarry be near, she remains quiet.

Erica moves through the swamp fairly easily thanks to the assist she gets from her armor. She keeps as quiet as possible while moving around. She keeps going deeper in the general direction the tracks were leading before she lost the trail.

Thane sighs, taking a step off to his left. Suddenly, he drops to chest level in the mire with a large sucking sound, "Um....heh..." He says through the tinny sounding external speaker on his helmet, "Can I get a hand here?" He's stuck up to his chest in the thick, sludge-like mud of the swamp.

Daeni is not adverse to slogging through the mud, but that does not mean that she enjoys it. "See nothing." A growl of annoyance add edge and volume to the words and she turns to close on the others. Thane becomes the primary 'other' in light of his sinking plight. She approaches him with mild bemusement softening the scowl, as well as the intent to lend him the needed, and offered aid.

Erica turns quickly at Thane's problem. She hurries over to him, but stops a little short in order to examine where the dwarf had sunk in. After making sure it is safe she moves to help assist Daeni with hauling the dwarf out of the muck that he is stuck in.

Actually it is not exactly safe as two skinny but quite strong arms rise from the muck to start pulling Thane into it...

Thane begins to take the offered hands of his companions, but suddenly, something comes from the muck and grabs him from behind. "Gah!" the dwarf lets out as the skinny but deceptively strong arms wrap around him...

The additional aid, and in the wrong direction, was certainly unexpected. "Under marsh!" Daeni's warning is somewhat redundant, but she gives it regardless, all while attempting to get a hold on Thane. If they wish a battle of tugging, she will give them one. Although the dwarf's armor might allow him to survive in the much for some time, those pulling him down are not likely inviting him down there for a pleasant conversation.

Erica pulls out her vibro knife and slashes at one of the arms trying to drag Thane down. She attacks the arms hoping that Daeni can keep Thane from being dragged further down.

The slash scratches the spindly arm slightly, bringing forth a slow oozing of grey blood. Between the towe of them they are holding Thane pretty secure versus Daeni's efforts.

Thane yells, "Elf, let me go..." he looks to Daeni, "I need my arms to get this thing off me". The voice sounds distant through the loud speaker, "Just be ready to shoot this thing with whatever you've got". There is no panic in his voice...yet.

Daeni growls anew with both her effort and the resistance against the same. She releases Thane, as requested, and to draw her own blades. Erica has some wisdom in that the arms cannot pull nearly as strongly when they are no longer attached. Thane would be better able to help himself with his own now freed, while Daeni swings at the clutching limbs from the marsh.

Like a hot knife through butter one of the arms is severed by Daeni's blades allowing Thane just enough wiggle room to get free of the other before Erica pulls him from the muck. The crisis currently over the remaining arm and stub sink back into the mire silently.

Erica watches Daeni work her swords and shakes her head slightly as she sees the damage being done to those arms. She shrugs her shoulders and grabs Thane to help assist him getting out of the hole. "You ok there?" She asks him.

Thane comes out of the muck with Erica's assistance, pulling the NG-57 blaster from the holster. He levels the weapon at the area he was just at, then watches as Daeni cuts the creature. He doesn't lower the pistol, but nods to the elf with new found respect. He turns to Erica, "Thanks..." he says. He glances at Daeni, "Thanks for both of yer help. Just reinforces the point that a city dwarf shouldn't be mucking around out in the wilderness off the beaten path." He stands, watching the area where he was just a moment before.

"Not see in swamp before. Know what is?" Daeni continues to display her imperfect use of American, although her focus is thoroughly on the mire near them, rather than linguistics. She takes a few steps back once Thane is freed, scanning the muck. "May still live, may be more."

Erica slips her knife back into it's sheath as she helps Thane up to his feet. "I don't know what that was but those arms were quite tough. Maybe some sort of swamp creature. I guess." She slings her rifle from around her back into her hands as she looks around trying to see if there is any sign of arms or anything else within the swamp.

Back at the farm:

3 miles east north east of the village you find the site, right where it was said to be. There a half dozen farmers are busy stripping the carcass of a 10 foot long beetle of its meat. Another carcass is there, already stripped.

Gabriel's eyes fall to the beetle carcasses, and he utters a phrase in a language (presumably) with a very choppy consonant rhythm that sounds like, "Chto za huy?"

Libre cautiously approaches the scene looking closely at the folks working on the remains of the beetle. He tries to get a hint as to who may be in charge before asking, "What have y'all figured out about the killings so far?" He casts his glance around the field for any people or objects that look out of place or disturbed in some way.

Touching down next to his walking companions, Jackon focuses his attention on the scene at hand, rather than on keeping himself aloft, having left his cycle locked up back in town. More to the point he asks, "Were the kills made where the bodies are or have they been moved?" He asks, trying to determine place of death, and if the area is not contaminated, they might be able to find tracks. And with tracks, follow them to said beastie.

"They took all the orgasn out of that one, even the brain. Made ou job a lot easier. Only took the liver and eyes from this one." one of the farmers explains after a sigh over being interrupted. "Another group was here not to long ago, I think they followed some tracks further into the wilds. This is where the bodies were found." He continues before getting back to the task.

Gabriel (apparently) manages to turn himself back to the other part of this odd scene. Flying bicycles, plastic armor with skirts? Another minor shrug sees him peel off from the main pack. Not dangerously distant, but very slowly walking the perimeter of the scene. His hands will occasionally move at his waist, making flat figures, his palms toward the ground, in slow motion, as if trying to shape things together. After a moment, his twangy voice is raised enough to ask, "Pardon me, gentlemen. Do these, ah... furry beetles normally live here? Or did they... um.. escape their pen?"

Libre looks briefly to the area being inspected by Jackson but quickly gives up on it since he has no idea what he should be looking for. "Could you point us in the direction they went?" He looks around at the trees nearby in a vain attempt to guess himself.

Jackson narrows his eyes at the explanation. "OK... One more question though. Near as you can tell is there anything wrong with the organs left behind on the one you are working on? Diseased or flawed in any way?" He asks before nodding in agreement with Libre.

The farmer shakes his head, not even turning from his work to reply this time. He makes a quick aggrevated point into the wilderness beyond and leaves it at that.

North-northeast, right?" Comes the simple question. Then, after seeing the apparent ambivalence of the farmers, or butchers, or whoever the hell they are, Gabriel addresses the man on the flying scooter. "You happen to be going that way? 'fraid I can't pay for a ride."

Libre takes on a more thoughtful look as he hears Jackson's question. Seeing the direction pointed he looks to his companions and says with a lot of eagerness, "Let's see what they figured out." He then starts that way at a good jog while waving the other to come too.

After listening to the farmers exasperated sighs then simply pointing the direction. Jackson starts to follow, then walk side by side with Libre. The group has just been told where the tracks lead to, and are en route to join the other group already investigating.

The man armored up to the neck falls in line with the other two, in a pseudo- congenial walk, pseudo-military stride. He keeps swatting and fussing over joints, but while looking down at an awkward greave, he asks, "Do these giant bugs... never had any idea they were so huge... anyway, do these things live all over, or are they common livestock?" A shake of his head, and in a lower tone, "We sure as hell wouldn't have kept them as livestock." Then again, louder, "Out here, away from the city. Are things really as bad as I've been told?"

There's a voice on the trail. Strong, with a definite rhythm, though the words are hard to make out. Whatever it is, it's coming closer. "Consider the plight of the one-legged knight / As he braces his crutch with his shield / He'll stand still and wait 'til you come for the bait / Then you'll find that the bastard won't yield!" The voice is coming closer. He's singing, and gaining ground. A lot of ground. To their rear, the snap of saplings and branches heralds something massive approaching.

Libre moves with a lot of speed. He pauses from time to time to ensure he doesn't get too far ahead but the youthful eagerness is ever present as he waves them on and calls back, "Come on guys, you don't want to miss all the fun do ya." To Gabriel he answers, "The beetles get around some but they do make good burgers. And you'd have to tell me how bad folks told you it was out here before I could tell you if it was true." Turning his head to the oncoming sound He places a hand on his pistol and looks hard in that direction.

Jackson answers Gabriel as best he can. "Generally speaking.. the farther from the big cities you go, the harder it is. You'd be amazed what poeple will do to survive out here. And the beetles are just cattle, about as smart and good for meet. The actual cows they mostly use for milk. From what I've seen anyway...." He trails off, hearing the voice and he hand slipping down to the hilt of the knife held sideways to the right on his back. His focus turns towards the noise of the something large approaching.

There's a shrug of his head, and Gabriel purses his lips, regarding Libre's words, "Fair enough." He picks up the pace, apparently intrigued by whatever it is that happens to be going on. Perhaps it's just the fresh air, outside of the city and all. After looking back and forth between the other three men, including the new man whom he is even less familiar with than the previous man who he was less familiar with... he bangs his breastplate with a gauntlet and rolls his eyes. In that twang, he utters, "I look like a complete idiot." Yet his words trail off, and his hands swing back toward the rifle sling as he Jackson, who is intimately more familiar with the area, tense.

The singing continues, as the ground rumbles with offset hoofbeats to the beat of his tune. "Do you knock his one leg down, there's still no relief / He'll crawl down the field with his sword in his teeth / And the reach of his sword-arm defies all belief / When he fights in the Cripple's Shield-Wall!" There's a flash of silver in the trees, motion, and then it's upon them. An amalgamation of flesh and steel, horse and rider, a shaggy-booted clydesdale mare in full barding with a suit of light powered armor riding atop. The rider holds a sword in hand, three lenses that make up the eyes on his helmet whirring faintly as he slows before those walking the trail ahead. "It was not for pate!" comes a voice, calling down to the three. "The organs taken were so very wrong. Who eats lung pate?" He falls silent, gauntley reaching forward to run along his horse's neck. "Do you eat lung pate?"

Together at last:

The directions given leads through the wilderness for a few more miles before it turns to swamp. About a hundred meters into the swamp Erica Thane and Daeni stand together.

Jackson arrives shortly alongside Seb, Gabriel and Libre, stopping short of stepping onto the mucky surface of the ground gone soft. "Ugh.. I just knew I'd be getting my clothes dirty coming out here.. And I just bought them." He says, completely serious, though he could be joking. "Hey!" He calls out, seeing the other three across the treacherous ground a ways, "Be right there!" He calls out. He frowns slightly for a moment, then lifts off the ground, soaring over the muck and filth by a good ten feet under the power of his own thoughts.

This isn't the first time that Gabriel has seen people fly through the air unassisted, and it won't be his last, but even with what seems to be at least a bit of martial training, it still makes him reach for that strange pistol at his side every time someone takes off. He does so now, but manages to reel in his fingers before they even touch the grip. As clueless as he may often seem back in the city, he seems more in his element here, though the armor is still clearly giving him problems. Patrolling eyes scour the area, and he speaks to no one in particular, "People who slaughtered an entire farm fled through a swamp?"

Erica looks over at the new arrivals and holds up a hand. "Wait." She calls out using the loudspeaker built into her armor. "There is something trying to drag people in. Be careful." She says while her head looks this way and that. Moving carefully she moves deeper into the swamp looking for signs of whatever it was. Or if there are others like it around."

Thane begins to clean the muck and mud from his blaster and rifle, keeping a wary eye on the swamp around them, "Yeah. Something wanted a little dwarf for dinner....thanks to Daeni and Erica, it won't be likely that whatever in the Hell it was won't ever do it again, 'less it can regenerate." He checks the ammo count on his weapon, and then holsters it.

Daeni lifts her gaze from the mire at the question from Gabriel and nods with Erica's warning. "May be still here," she calls out. There is some threat likely present, if not visible, as weapons are already drawn by the three first here. When no other arms have yet reach out of the marsh, she steps back towards the spot where Thane started to sink and experimentally thrusts one blade into the muck.

The blade has no effect on the muck.

Libre jogs into the swampy area a step or two before realizing he had ruined his nice leather shoes. "AW CRAP! I just ruined these shoes." He lifts a foot to inspect the damage before noticing the others present. He watches enviously as Jackson floats above the slop. Libre takes the club from his belt and begins using it to test firmness of the ground, unsure if he should be stepping onto it.

The singing continues, audible a hundred meters in.

Beware the old dame who's arthritic and lame So knee-sprung she barely can stand For her hands and her eye are still steady and spry She's the best crossbow shot in the land!

And then it ends. Sebastien curses at the deeper, muddier ground ahead. The horse and rider sit stalwart a long moment, staring out at the gnarled branches, scrubby bushes, and the occasional flash of shine that says the ground is rather water-like. Kicking a leg over Sara's head, Sebastien lands on the ground beside her with a thud and a rattle. Despite the weight of all his gear, he still manages to make it look somewhat graceful. The would-be knight pulls from her saddlebags some gear, quickly adding it to the molle webbing on his vest with the ripping sound of velcro. Climbing up a small bare pile of clay, the would-be knight stomps on it a few times and nods. "Sara, wait here," he directs and points at the earth. "Hooves will not do well ahead, I'm afraid." Sara obediently follows to stand in the place directed, and Sebastien reaches a gauntleted hand up to touch her snout tenderly. "You'll be able to see me so long as I stay at good elevation," he says, glancing about. "Watch my back, will you? But *stay here.*" And with that, he carefully checks the three-point sling on his rifle, fitting in a drum magazine before reaching back to grab the controls of his jet pack. There's the scream of a tiny, high-pressure jet turbine kicking in, and soon Sebastien rises over the muck with dangling legs. He does fairly well on the gyroscopic controls, tilting slowly this way and that for motion, though it's clear he's no expert with the device. After some moments, his voice continues,

With a repeating crossbow and war-arrow blade She can pierce any armor that's ever been made Be glad she's not drawn to the highwayman's trade! She just fights in the Cripple's Shield-Wall!

Birds rise in a startled mass before him, lower creatures churning in the muck below, as Sebastien drifts lazily over the mud while scanning the terrain below at a height a safe fifteen feet above the stunted treetops. Gabriel's question earns a reply on the radio, and finally a break in the incessant singing. "It is a little B-movie, non? All we need now are will-o-the-wisps, marsh fog, and Bride of Frankenstein." There's a pause, and then he cuts back in, "Though it explains why only the organs were taken. Can you imagine dragging a dead Fury Beetle through this?"

Libre sinks to his waist in muck.

Jackson touches down near Erica, testing the ground for a few seconds to be sure it will support him. Satisfied, he turns to regard the rest of his companions and starts to crack up laughing as he see's Libre sunk waist deep in the muck. Jackson's thoughts leap out again, and he uses his power once more, not on himself, but on Libre, to free him from his predicament. Unsure of how long his power will hold without feeding it again, the young man simply starts to tug Libre from the ground and deposit him on the nearest solid ground, towards Jackson rather than back.

The man's armor may hang awkwardly, but he steps with confidence. Gabriel's movements are efficient and clearly well thought out, his feet remaining close to the base of a tree or other seemingly solid ground as he starts to make his way around the perimeter, or at least what perimeter exists. Not a cliche "cat like" movement, but obviously trained and experienced. The wind caries on it the words, "Just like being back in Georgia," with that unique vocal twang of unusually long vowels and lazy consonants. His rifle is out, muzzle toward the center of the muck, with the sling wrapped around his heft-arm so that he can still use his hand to catch himself without dropping the weapon to the ground. A very unique carry.

Erica looks back over her shoulder and shakes her head slightly as she watches Libre sink into the muck. "Better help him out." She calls out over her loudspeaker and over the radio, if anyone is tuning into that channel. She keeps moving deeper into the swamp trying to scout it out and see what might be happening in this area. She keeps searching for any sign of the tracks she followed to the swamp.

Libre is lifted from the much with a sickening plop. Jackson lands to find the ground stable beneath him.

Daeni is both satisified and forlorn that her prod does not cause anything to leap or reach from the marsh. Her attention returns to those visible. Some fly, others step carefully, and others sink. "Need cross. More sink if stay." Since she cannot fly, and is already in the middle of the mire, Daeni simply slogs towards more firm ground in the direction they originally travelled.

Libre becomes suddenly much shorter at his legs are swallowed by the muck and mud. "Why are you guys so tall all of a sudden?" He says with a disgusted grimace while holding his arms up out of the gunk. As he rises out of his predicament he calls out a little startled, "Whoo, I'm bird now. Thanks for that." His thanks is not directed at anyone in particular since he can not be sure who provided the assistance.

That high-pitched whine overhead is steady, annoying, and seems to tune through the teeth like a well-pitched fork. In short, it's awful, but it keeps Sebastien sailing high. By now the wildlife is in hiding, running, or eyeing him hungrily. He continues to sing, though thankfully he doesn't use the radio.

No profit you'll find from the knight who is blind He can hear you twelve paces away He'll listen off-hand 'til he's sure where you stand Then his bill-hook reaps far more then hay!

Sebastien spins slowly there in the sky, considering the buried man's predicament, with a casually shouted "Libre Libre!" Well, someone had to say it. He continues his spin, circling there in the air, and keeps an eye out below. Tilting a little further ahead, he begins to pick up speed while dipping his legs alternately to adjust his pitch as he flies on over Erica, Daeni, and Thane. Shouldering his rifle, the Rocket Man sweeps his head left and right, gaining a little more altitude to be safe from the grasping tree branches below, and his voice continues.

He can fight in the forest, the river, the plain With his hearing unhampered by dark, fog or rain He must know his ground, but he'll sure bring you pain As he fights in the Cripple's Shield-Wall!

Jackson frowns and eyes the muck surrounding him. "I gotcha, hang on!" He calls, presumably to Libre and Gabriel, as Sebastien seems to be doing fine on his own. Jackson's power leaps out, siezing first Libre, lifting him clear of the dangerous land and carrying above it on unseen hands to deposit him next to Jackson, guiding his flight with a raised hand.

Anyone who has seen the man before in any real way other than passing most likely took Gabriel as a man in the role of forlornly innocent, like a stupid child, or completely foolish and ignorant, or completely out of his element, at best. Even so shortly as an hour ago, he probably appeared as if a common moron inept to the world walking around with stupid questions and a target on his chest. But now things are different. His face is set, not in anger, or in intense concentration, just perhaps best explained as "well aware." No movement is wasted. He doesn't seem to move until deciding to move for some good reason that he's decided upon. His eyes are clearly looking. Not for anything in particular, just looking. But he does quirk his head up at the flying Jackson's announcement, eyes set. He checks his feet with a quick glance then nods up to the man in the air, and with that odd twang in his voice gone, his words just crisp, clipped, and efficient, "Thanks, footing's good."

Erica fights down her urge to shoot Sebastien down so she doesn't have to listen to the horrible singing. "Shut up!" She calls up to him as she keeps making her way through the swamp, being careful where she steps. She tries to pay attention to the swamp around her despite the distractions.

Thane picks his way through the swamp the best he can, the stout dwarf looking warily to the left and the the right, the business end of his L-20 pulse rifle moving in the same direction with his eyes. He glances toward the singing man, his bushy eyebrows furrowing beneath the semi-transparent faceplate of his Carapace armor. He mutters something in Dwarven, then continues on, watching the swamp around him.

Daeni has more in common with Erica than originally believed. She also shares the urge to silence the song. "Enemy hear, fool!" Her curt reprimand is loud enough to be audible over the singing, so it is somewhat hypocritical. Still, drawing their foes might also end the noise.

Libre watches the singer fly across with a slight grimace as the noise his flight method of choice rattles his teeth. He giggles lightly as he finds himself again breaking free from gravity's greedy grasp. He is took taken by the sudden flight to truly inspect his environment. The crease of his pants are gone and the shoes are never likely to shine again.

That whine fades a touch, deepening in pitch as the doppler shift breaks overhead. The man's hidden from eye, if not from ear as he passes a couple hundred meters ahead. Just a sound in the trees, singing blissfully inaudible at this distance. The radio cuts in, then, with his voice, "..can't tell command-calls at all --" he stops singing, "There is a campfire ahead, at perhaps a mile. Perhaps they have heard me, perhaps non."

Eventually through the team effort everyone does make it across the swamp. Some gifted enough to hover over it, some inspred enough to go around, and the rest skilled enough to traverse it. But by that time night is falling and the ability to traverse even forest a night becomes much more difficult and much less favorable. Especially tracking fugitives. No it seems much the wiser choice to return better prepared the next day. Time will tell if thats truly the case.