May 12 08:14:56 106 PA

From Chronicles

Weather at Thu May 12 08:14:56 106 PA (17.07C, 62.73F):

Incongruous to the drizzle pouring outside, making the world a smaller, grayer place, the stables are fairly busy. The long winter's over, the roads are clear, the animals have emerged from their dens, and it seems like everyone had the same idea; get out of the city for an hour or two, at least! Laughing chatter is the backdrop down in the stables, horses and tame dinosaurs and even a fury beetle being saddled by a remarkable variety of individuals. The pleasure-seekers will come later. This crew, in the morning, are the hunters. They're armed, armored, and generally well-prepared for their task. Sebastien is in a stall, brushing down his tall clydesdale mare, while speaking softly to her. Reminding her to keep quiet, it seems, and to keep her temper. Odd. The man's in riding gear -- black leather chaps, padded blue jeans underneath, and the telltale rounded signs of some sort of breastplate under a green flannel shirt, with a broad black hat hung at the middle of his back.

Not so much in the stables, Brun is just outside them with her mobile home, yes.. mobile home. Well, it's not officially such a thing. But it is a 25 foot long, 18 foot tall Mountaineer A.T.V. Anyhow, she's standing near the back end of the vehicle which has the cargo door open. She is clad in her lightest suit of armor, the chrome/silver colored Crusader plate armor, and she's unloading supplies and crates that need to be filled while she's taking stock of all her belongings. With her helmet off, her tightly wrapped blonde hair is getting moistened by the rain, but she's more interested in finishing her project than getting in out of the rain. Currently, she's working on her inventory with an unflappable endurance. With the cargo door open, one can see in from various angles, and there may be glints of her other two suits of armor inside along with ammo and the larger weapons she won't carry around town with her.

Presently Sebastien rides out, looking at home on that tall saddle. Alongside the clydesdale's saddle is a long acrylic tube, easily six feet in length, with another smaller bundle slung from his belt at a distinctive angle. A quiver of arrows. A little plastic cap keeps the rain out of that elongated basketweave leather cup until he's ready. He slows though, staring up at the enormous vehicle before the stables, and peers aside around the front, then the back. His horse slowly carries him around the back, plodding hoofsteps against the softening clay below squelching faintly. Slowing as he comes upon Brun, Sebastien takes a long moment to take her in. Broken face frowning faintly as he eyes the armor, then spreading into a faint smirk. "I have one of those," he calls out, pointing at her armor. "It is good protection, rides well. But mine is ah, not so..." he frowns, accented voice trying to find the right words as his hands rise from the reigns to make a vaguely hourglass figure in the air.

Pausing as she's addressed, Brun turns and wipes a bit of water from her forehead and then runs both of her hands up and over her hair. "Entschuldigung?" She asks. Then she shakes her head and adds, "I mean.. pardon?" She watches your hands move and then smirks a bit. "It seemed proper. The... " she pauses and searches for the right word, "Merchant I purchased it from seemed to think I should hafe it." Her words are slow, carefully thought out, and heavily and thickly accented. "Somehow I think that yours vould not fit you so vell if it vere fitted for one such as me."

While Sebastien's accent is softer, both on the consonants and on the thickness! Sebastien reaches back and gathers up that large floppy hat with both hands, snugging it in place over his head with fingers at either end of the wide brim. "Of course!" Sebastien agrees, nodding readily. "You lacked what he sold, so of course you should have it. It was meant for you. Nothing less than your destiny lay in possessing whatever it was he had for sale." The young knight winks at that, and adds as the thought comes, "I could never get in your pants. They would not fit." Somewhere that boy lacks the filter that usually stands between the stupid crap men think and what emerges hideously from their mouths. Keeping a straight face and leaning over in the saddle, he runs a hand along his clydesdale's neck and wonders, "Is it that you ever ride in it?"

Watching you for a few moments, Brun raises a brow. "Err.. ich veiss nicht..." she mutters before shaking her head and then adding, "Please forgive. I.. know not vhat you speak. Vhat am I to ride?" She steps under the small hatch door which is up like a car's hatchback so that she can get a bit out of the rain now. "As for the armor, this ist the lightest suit I own. Ze easiest to wear for daily routine." she seems a bit lost by your words... but she is still learning American as she goes along.

"Whatever you like!" Sebastien laughs at the question, shaking his head, and as his horse follows suit to clear the rain, he has to throw up his hands and shield himself from the spray. across the grey plain a few other riders slip out into the morning, followed by a truck going down the road, and the young knight's eyes narrow as he stares further down the road. Going to be awful crowded out there. "If you would like a break from ... whatever you are doing with all of this armor and weaponry, you could come with me? Perhaps come back with a free lunch?" He hears a faint catcall from the stables, someone yelling how typical that is, and glances back that way with a wicked grin before turning a pleasantly innocent face back to Brun.

".... Come with you?" asks Brun, turning to eye the direction you indicated. "Vhat ist happening? Vhy vould I be going vith you?" she inquires as she reaches for her helmet after adjusting the holsters on her two handguns and then she pulls that helmet on over her damp hair. "Should I take ze time to change into something heavier?" she asks, gesturing inside for you to glance. Of course on your horse, it's easy to see the front-loaded Laser rifle, the heavy TX-500 Railgun, and the odd Cyclops T-10 armor along with the rack of power armor in there.

"To get food?" He offers. "Spend some time in the wilderness? A laser might be best, as it is silent at least. I will take the game -- a deer, likely -- if you can keep the eye out for predators. You must be sure to pack lightly, make little noise, and be prepared. This will take an hour or two. We may get nothing." He shrugs and grins, leaning back in his saddle. "But something tells me we will not come back empty handed." Sebastien drops from the back of his horse, looking as natural as stepping across a threshold, and lands quietly beside her. The animal's nearly as tall as he is! Stepping forward, he pulls a glove from his hand and reaches for Brun's to shake, saying, "I am called Sebastien DuBois."

"A laser, for hunting game. You vould be better advised to use one of these." she states, patting the M-10 Automatic pistol in the crossdraw holster on her front right hip. "A laser, ya, it ist silent. But it vould vaporize half of ze animal. A single shot from a high powered, caseless bullet vould kill the animal vithout such damage." She grins a bit, "But I have little experience with such hunts. All I have ever hunted vas monsters such as the Vampyr, or the Gargoyles and their minions." She gestures towards the direction you indicated, and offers, "I vill happily come vith... but hunt smart."

"For predators," Sebastien chides, eyeing Brun with a grin that says 'stop being silly.' His still-gloved hand reaches down to that quiver, tugging free the cap to draw out one red-feathered broadhead arrow, twirling it between his fingers. "I think this is more appropriate, non? I would not hunt with a pistol. You can take game, yes, but it is not a sure thing and would draw a great deal of attention. I have hunted the undead and alien mechanical robots, but prey are something else. Where a predator may be drawn to violence, or comprehend it and stay, weighing the risks, prey simply run. It is another thing entirely. Hunting becomes a seduction." He grins at the woman and adds, "A concept not alien to you, I imagine! Lock up. And ah, what was your name, mademoiselle?"

"If ve are to hunt, unt to protect ourselves.." Brun reaches inside and unclips the racked TX-42 Front-clip-fed Laser rifle before slinging it over her shoulder. Then she activates a control on her forearm which shuts the cargo door and seals it tight. Then she reaches up and lowers her visor over her eyes as she states softly, "You may call me Brun."

"And also the least comfortable person to ride behind me." Sebastien laughs at that, his face splitting into a wide grin that tilts his scarred features oddly, and reaches for his clydesdale's saddle. Throwing a boot into the nearby stirrup, he half-leaps and half-pulls himself up before offering a hand down to Brun, leaning back to brace himself for her armored weight. "I have a small blind set up, it is just a short ride out. Though if it will be any good wit so many out there today..."

Sebastien frowns at the thought, and shrugs, "If it is crowded, we will keep going." "Ride?" asks Brun as she eyes the beast. She grins behind her visor and shakes her head, "I vill valk if that ist alright vith you." She is used to long distance running, from her whole infantry time. "Though, if it vould help, I could power up ze Hopper.." she states, gesturing inside the truck. "It ist much more mobile."

Sebastien eyes the hopper, and then the armored figure. "And it smells like Men," he notes. "As, I am sure, do you. But we can try this. You would not want to walk the distances we will need to travel. Riding on horseback is the better plan. Otherwise we are just going on the nature hike." He rinks down, face still open to the wind and the rain, head open to sense the world about him. "Your heavy armor is more than enough, I think!"

Brun says, "... heavy?" asks Brun as she glances down to her armor. She shrugs and offers, "There ist something wrong vith valking?" She eyes the horse, amd then reaches a hand for the flank of the animal before taking your hand and swinging up behind you, "I suppose it shall do to ride. But, I am infantry, and hafe not spent much time astride an animal.""

"Bulky?" Sebastien offers, grinning. "Noisy? Shines in the sun? Smells like metal? Tastes like chicken?" She's easily tugged up beside him, a thick arm and a lot of leverage giving Bruin a good boost up behind the young knight. "You sit atop Sara," Sebastien introduces. "Sara, this is Bruin, and we will e making sure she comes home today." He reaches forward to run a gloved hand through that mane, tousling it a bit to get a snicker and a tossed head back from the animal. It's as though he's waiting for... The knight tenses faintly, and looks back over his shoulder at the armored, curvy figure, and with a flash of a grin he reaches back, groping for Brun's hands to pull them about his chest like a seatbelt. "Hang on then," he directs, and heels his horse. "Just think of it like making love!" he calls over his shoulder. "Go with the rocking and everything becomes so much better." The two trot down that road, giving Bruin a nice level surface to get used to being on a horse.

Her hands were already reaching for the waist, not the chest, and Brun mutters, "Vould it not be better if you left the sexual suggestions out of your vords?" she asks as she awkwardly tries to move along with the horse's body. Of course, sitting beside the saddle is going to bruise her as the animal's rump doesn't move anything like the back. Plus, it's a warhorse, so its stride is long, and its body is wide as can be. "Are ve hunting, or are ve merely going for a ride so that you can fail in your efforts to bed me?" she asks, having a unique, blunt nature to her.

"We are hunting!" Sebastien retorts with enthusiasm. "Though really, when it comes to two thousand pounds of animal bucking between your legs, I could not think of a better analogy." His glance over his shoulder is back at town, though he flashes that armored face another quick grin before picking up the pace a touch more. "The failing to get into your bed comes later, when we have eaten."

Good thing her visor is down, because she's rolling her eyes there behind it. Brun turns up her ear implants to listen to sounds in the distance as she just stops speaking for the ride. She's focused on trying to maintain her posture, and keep her posterior from becoming one giant bruise. After all, she drives, and jumps around in armor. She doesn't ride.

Sebastien takes the trio a ways out, several miles, staying to the road for the majority of the distance, before branching off a side trail. He passes several other hunters along the way while gaining blinking, incredulous looks and the occasional rolled eye or shaken head. Arriving finally at a wide point on the side trail, Sebastien stares at the lightening sky and mutters, "We are late, but perhaps not too late. From here we walk." He pats Sara's neck, pushing her head down faintly, and swings a leg up and over to fall to the side before reaching up to help the armored one down. "I hope you got the padded model of this Crusader suit!" he declares with a mischievous grin, looking none the worse for wear himself. The woods about them is dense, cedar and pine reaching high with rhododendrons and oregon grape crowding at the earth. Thicker than the ash and alder elsewhere, this bit of land keeps visibility to a hundred yards at best, and a few yards at worst. The grey overhead is compounded by heavy, tall branches, casting the wood into perpetual twilight. A dark, warm, moist embrace. Sebastien seems at home.

Hopping down off the horse, in fact sliding down as soon as it stops, before you even manage to extricate yourself from the saddle, Brun mutters softly in German before she shakes her head and stretches to pop her back. She's walking a bit tenderly, her legs not used to this treatment. But the armor -did- keep her from chaffing at the very least. She lifts her rifle and peers into the scope before activating the starlight nightvision aspect to get a lay of the land in the area. "This ist like ze Black Forest back home. Though, in the forest, one must be eternally alert. It ist the nesting place for Vampyr-kind."

"We have these," Sebastien agrees, in a soft voice. "But ah, we have more large animals. You could be a big game hunter and never leave your back yard, if you had a market for such a thing. Me? I do not track so well. I just wait for them to come to me." Reaching up, the young man draws that dark green fiberglass tube from Sara's back, brushing it off faintly, before reaching to his horse's bridle to get her attention. "Keep your ears open, let me know if something bigger than you stumbles along." He smiles up at the horse, scarred face a few inches from that long nose, eyes shining with the sort of quiet affection generally reserved for one of the same species. Then pulling away with fingers trailing he turns to slip down off the trail, carefully picking his way through the brush. There's no trail, just a clearer spot here and there, with huckleberries and ocean spray crowding ten feet high and runners of ivy and oregon grape tangling at one's feet. His blind isn't much -- a frame of twigs and short branches, lashed together with twine to make a trellis over which ivy's been uprooted and poured. It's mostly covered, four feet high, and beyond the land opens up to sandy, rocky soil that pours out to a stream sitting midway up its broad bed. If this rain keeps up it will be a scant fifteen meters from the blind, but here he gets an easy twenty five to the water, fifty across, and a good view of the open terrain in both directions. "And now we wait," Sebastien breathes, carefully opening the tube that contains his bow. It's an odd contraption, with a recoil dampener out front and a counterbalance to the rear, holographic sight cowitnessing a half dozen elevation pegs on a shelf in front of the oversized, molded grip. Awfully complex for a bow and arrow.

Well, there's something about cheating when you're up against the elements. Environmental armor is rather unfair that way. Fortunately for her, Brun not only has environmentally sealed Crusader armor, but she also grins and raises her sealed visor to reveal her face once more. Sure, it's not overly beautiful, but some people are -too- good looking at times. She's merely a little pretty for a soldierly tomboy. So she closes her eyes after Sebastian says to listen... and she does have one real implant, a hearing amplifier. so she's tuning in to try to filter out the rain sounds. Of course, the Sound Filtration system helps there too. And She slings her rifle as she does so, cross-drawing her M-10 Autopistol just in case after all. A bow and arrow might be quiet, but she's good with a pistol and figures.. just in case.

Unfair and bulky, and probably gets in the way of hearing anything! Sebastien, the scarred rider, just smirks and tugs the lid off his quiver a couple times, trying it out for sound before capping it again for good. The rain's bathwater warm, cool as it soaks into clothes, and clammy as it settles against the skin. He leans back there on the ground, bracing his back against a cedar trunk, and pullings a short, stout knife from his belt. Reaching for the ground, he draws a stick up and begins whittling. The little knife slides back and forth, chewing slivers of wood away with ease, never taking a deep nor a long bite. It will take a while, but he has a while.

Brun's given an amused glance then, while the sounds and smells of the forest gradually return. The birdcalls, squirrels running up and down trees, and presently a skunk waddling up to the river. Nothing terribly tempting.

Some lie in wait with the hope that fate will smile upon them with a fortuitous opportunity. Others actually hunt. A lone figure moves through the foliage, footfalls soft upon the ground as eyes scan for mark of step, spoor or passing. Quiet is paramount even upon the killing blow, evidenced by the simple, yet effective, recurved bow carried by the active hunter. Fortune may favor the bold and the wise, but it might not smile down on this day. The conspicuous snap of twig underfoot carries much farther than is desired, followed by halting silence.

Long distance to Namtar: Sebastien is browsing now. Liked the idea of the MDC lions in New West, but only has an electronic copy of that book and it isn't great. Peering through Spirit West now to see if there's something similar.

"... snapping twig, zvei hundert drei unt fiertzane.." states Brun, a hand pointing precisely in the direction she just murmured softly. Two hundred and forty-three degrees from her, givin that her face is zero degrees. Figure if she can hear a whisper at a hundred fifty foot distance, a twig breaking can be heard far further off. She's leaning her back against a tree, and still not opening her eyes. "Sehen sie... " she shakes her head and restarts, "Can you see.. anything in that direction?"

"Nein," Sebastien breathes with a wink, and carefully draws aside a stem of ivy on his blind to stare downstream. "Wait," he adds, and frowns. "I think I see someone. Another hunter. Half naked. Up your alley." He leans back, giving the woman a chance to take a peek herself. His cloth rustles a very little, the suede of his chaps giving just the faintest creak as he repositions himself. He's an easier time of it than someone in plate mail!

Indeed, a man does emerge from the thicket into a more open pocket on the far side of the stream. He is no more camouflaged in dress than his visage is elated. If Adon was close to quarry, his misstep may have shattered his advantage. Either way, there is little harm in his sacrifice of stealth for his own improved line of sight, and a long slow survey is taken of his surroundings.

Good thing the girl in plate armor isn't moving so much as just standing still and letting her ears do the work. Of course, that is until Sebastian asks her to have a look. She opens her eyes and leans forward with a creak of armor. "Up. my alley?" she inquires, "Vhat does this mean?" she asks, looking towards Sebastian then as she inquires that of the man. "I presume prey vill be scarce today?"

The forest goes quiet. The squirrels, typically unbothered by the traipsings of men, are nowhere to be seen, while a small flocks of crows take wing to the north, cawing and rising in a disorganized mass that heads east, passing over the river. "Oui," Sebastien replies, letting out a slow breath, "the day is growing only older, and our prey is most active at dawn. There is simply too much competition to expect..." his voice trails off, blinking. "Did you hear something?"

Adon remains standing and still as his methodical sweep continues, then halts in the vicinity of the discussion. A reflective glint or unnatural sheen catches his notice, but he receives no time to scrutinize. The sudden silence and raucous explosion of bird turn his head with a sudden snap. His hesitation is less than a heart's beat before he moves. An ever-quickening pace begins to carry him towards the disturbance, with no concern for secrecy. Nor sanity, perhaps, as the weapon in his hand simply melts from existence.

"It vas Sara." remarks Brun softly, "But our alternate quarry approaches." she states as she lowers herself to a crouch, the pistol held in her hand, but aimed at the ground. Hell, the safety is still on but in a dark forest, a stranger approaching... that's always been a recipe for disaster in the past for her.

Sebastien half-stands, peering in the direction of Sara, and frowns at the running man. He knocks an arrow and stares, though the tattooed one isn't heading for his horse. Well, at least not where he left his horse! The young knight quietly slips back from the blind, pressing away from the river to go check on Sara.

Adonis arrives at the bird's point of flight, finding ... a stand of trees, devoid of animal life. A quiet wind rustles leaves through the forest, and off to the right, a quiet 'plock!' followed by a muted thud might be heard, along with a peripheral flash of movement heading into the tree line from the direction of the river.

Okay, that's odd. Brun stands back up in a huff. "Sebastian. I must go. Somebody triggered the alarm system on mein auto..." She sighs and turns to start running. She's not really slow it seems. If Infantry duty teaches one thing, it's lots and lots of long distance running. Her handgun is holstered, and she gets into a pace she can maintain...

Adon slows to a lope as his gaze moves about, then comes to a halt amidst the quiet copse. Almost quiet. The sudden sounds and flicker of movement cause him to whirl, one empty hand rising to touch his forehead. Eyes close in a long blink before reopening, gray gaze now sharing the same azure shade as the trio stenciled above them.

Early morning is quickly transitioning to mid morning as the temperature warms. A steady, droning drizzle keeps the sky overcast, visibility low, in this little pocket of forest. Instead of the spruce and ash more common around the city, this wood is wetter and thicker. Cedar and pine towering overhead, their trunks choked by ten foot ocean spray, huckleberries, and the occasional stand of rhododendrons tall enough to be a small tree in its own right. Ivy and oregon grape claim the soil where the trees break, unsteadying feet beneath, though they all clear out into a gentle rock-ridden sand slope down to a slow-moving river, swollen by the rainwater. The forest is quiet, birds and squirrels once ubiquitous now simply vanished into the trees, nothing left stirring. Not even a mouse. Sebastien's gone from the trees surrounding the river, his hunting blind abandoned, likely checking to see if his horse was the source of the disturbance. Adon's sharp eyes, cast about, would catch a second rock hurled through the abyss, this one bouncing off the rocks down by the river. It's coming from the direction of the other side.

And then there's someone else appearing - though it migth be hard to discern armor from afar, it does hide under the cloak that Alistair has about him as he rides his horse through the forest at a sedate pace. The silence does have his attention. "That isn't normal" he says quietly - perhaps to the horse? He slowly moves forward along the riverbank, mounted.

The sight, however brief, appears to calm Adon. His stance loosens and steps resume, towards the rocky shore. Flung stones are no immediate threat to anything save for easily startled fowl and hoarding squirrels. There is no urgency in his strides nor haste in his glance, his head shaking slightly in a gesture to himself. No threat seems to lie ahead, but it is still a curiosity.

The quiet forest's not showing any signs of renewed life. The humans wandering about below may well be the cause of that. Then again, they may not. From afar, Adon may see a black, spine-riddled head poking out over an ocean spray at the riverbank a moment before anyone else, though the dark shape that erupts from the trees is something completely alien. His first impression is that of a beast at least twenty five feet tall, arms and hooves pouring out before a giant trunk of a body, flying through the brush as if it weren't there. Later, on closer inspection, the pair would see that it's a smaller creature, though still at least three times as tall as a man and built like a centaur deer with a serpent head and black spines thrown on for pure malice. It falls towards Alistair from above, legs and arms and that wicked head, descending in a ton of demon flesh.

There it is - that's what's been causing all the trouble. Alistair - and the horse too, stop. The horse is on two legs, and Alistair's trying to hang on for dear life, probably just as scared out of wits. Or shocked - either way works, but the first instinct is to back the hell away.

The giant being descends upon Alistair, hooves flailing and arms thrashing, head descending as sixteen hundred pounds of it slam into man and horse from above. It lands on them more than any concentrated strike, thrashing and stomping the pair.

Adon is still bemused that what could easily be a child amusing himself skipping stones could cause him to startle so easily. Then, there is an appearance that is neither child nor amusing. His own reaction at overreaction now slows his reaction. He simply stares in surprise.

Adon is still bemused that what could easily be a child amusing himself skipping stones could cause him to startle so easily. Then, there is an appearance that is neither child nor amusing. His own reaction at overreaction now slows his reaction. He simply stares in surprise as he watches rider and steed fall under assault from the demonic beast.

It has been some time since he's had to deal with problems like this, but Alistair clearly remembers - when it's bigger than you, space is your friend. With his struggle to remain on the horse successful, he turns the animal around and prods it into a gallop to get away from the monster. Leaning forward, he reaches to remove the rifle from the right side sheath by the saddle and ready it, quickly glancing behind him as well for a moment.

The stomping demon creature hisses through that serpentine head as its prey slips from beneath its well-placed pounce, stomping at the ground and throwing up a great green spray of fleshy plant fog as it bucks forward into the open, a human-sized high-tech club in one hand and what looks like the remains of a pistol in the other. The mace sweeps forward across the plane of Alistair, just above his horse's head, one giant scything sweep to try and plow him once more groundward.

Adon now snaps from his confusion as the creature continues to harass Alistair. He breaks into a run for the trio and man and beasts to even the ratio. With little more than reflex, one hand lifts without breaking stride alighting on the opposiing arm in mid-swing. There will be time to chastise himself for his sluggishness later.

Perhaps it's luck, or perhaps he watch watching and it was rather well-timed, but the mace goes above his head, sweeping away behind him - Alistair continues to gets spacing, the cloak now coming off of him revealing the camouflaged armor underneath. He still has one hand on the rifle, but for now, distance distance distance! The horse gallops away as quickly as it can, with its rider probably holding on for dear life.

Like a pouncing lion, the creature's staying on top of Alistair. It towers behind the nimble mage, a cruel mockery of the horse and rider. It's a foot and a half broader, ten feet taller, running on four hooves and at least as fast as the smaller animal accelerating on rough, uncertain terrain. That rumbling hiss, a half-scream, echoes up and down the streambed as it takes one last swipe at the poor mage, seeing its initiative rapidly slipping away.

The beast isn't the only one pouncing, and Adon uses his gain ground to see that the swing is the last. Despite the gross differences in size and mass, he barrels into the thing from whatever oblique can be managed, lowering his shoulder.

The mace ends up in Alistair's side, sending him off the horse a short time before the Melech itself is tackled. Having a plan alays helps though, and Alistair tries to have a plan - the rifle stays in his hand through the tumble, and the moment he's stopped he gets up on one knee to take aim at the thing's head - seeing now someone else is involed in the fight as well, he blinks and tries to make certain his aim is clear

The giant demon centair roars as that puny human impacts its left rear flank, staggering sideways and kicking faintly as it's captured. The creature stumbles forward two steps, hissing gone eerily silent as he dips its head, staring at Alistair. It never considers dragging the horse away for a quick meal. Its eyes flash with too much hate. The creature limps forward two steps thrusting high once more to fall towards the mage, dragging the smaller, much lighter Adon along for the ride.

Alistair does the sensible thing as the damned thing gets bigger in his view. He backs away, drawing closer to the bank, looking for rather broken terrain now - there is definitely some sort of plan there, even if half-baked at the time. It'd be nice to consider the other person there, but that would get them both dead in a hurry - rather stressful on his kind nature that. "Oh for God's sakes, trip already or something."

Adon has not upset the creature, but does what he can to interfere if not gain it's attention all the while struggling to regain his own footing.

The creature can't seem to get at Alistair for the encumberance on its leg. It snaps in the air, straining against that meager anchor, and finally whirls to slap back at the half-naked man plastered to its flank, swinging that mace to bat it away.

A snap of electricity courses through Adon, tightening his muscles and widening his eyes, filling every neuron he has with pain. He'll be quickly able to shake off the nut-clunching sour-tasting shock of it, though for the moment he realizes that mighty weapon is not to be trifled with.

Finally, he has succeeded in harrying the creature, and now drawn its ire. Still, it is better he than another. The jolt is another matter, entirely, and wholly unexpected as his nervous system reels.

Alistair will thank for the diversion later - right now, he takes aim at the thing again, leveling the rifle and pulling the trigger; a faint cyan line connecting the two as the weapon ionizes the air around its path. He keeps his aim and gets ready to pull again - or hit the road, whichever he'll need to do first.

The creature's back is to Alistair, and it whips and spins in a tight circle, as it's shot, a smoking hole blown in its side spraying blood, then cauterizing. It continues to spin, kicking and swerving, trying to find its bearings through the pain.

Adon regains his senses quickly, and more than enough to realize the damnable neuro-destabilizing weapon needs to go. As the think flounders between the twin assault, he makes a grab for the accursed mace.

Alistair blinks his eyes as the creature spins in place, but he tracks it and pulls the trigger again, merely minding the other person now; the earlier feat is repeated, another line of light connecting the two suddenly. It's probably starting to smell of ozone, among other things.

Another pop! And a spray of blood and gore spreads on the sand and stone, staining it bright red as that hole sizzles and smokes. The creature bucks belatedly, swinging its torso back and forth, before it bounds back to the bushes from whence it came, half rolling through that flattened portion of the ocean spray to zig zag into the trees running for its life!

Adon bats at the weapon in the malformed clutch rather then snatch at it. This time it is knocked from its grasp, to the relief of his still smoldering nerve endings.

Alistair fires another shot at the retreating demon-beast, but it seems to go wide, possibly singing something or another on the way. He stands then and whistles - his own steed comes running.

That crashing continues through the brush. The cauterized wounds aren't leavig an obvious blood trail, but it doesn't take much of a tracker to follow a nearly-ton demon centaur's wild run through the trees and bushes, flattening what's in its path. As the beast flees, Adon merely stares after it, on the chance it might double back for another surprise leap. It seems to move far to swiftly for prompt pursuit on his part, and the immediate threat is ended. His eyes eventually follow the cyan light trail up to the rider after the parting shot. "Are you injured?"

Alistair is already mounting; "I was about to ask the same question, Sir - I'll be fine, just need a bit of rest, but first, I have to find this thing. Can't leave it skulking about, it'll do the same thing again" he explains, settling in the saddle. "I have food if you would like it - the city is that way, but if you aren't alright, I'll take you there."

The noise is diminishing in the distance, that desperate run maintained despite the holes in its abdomen. Trees sway in the distance, brush giving way, and after some moments nothing can be heard at all.

"It is unwise to go alone, so I will accompany you." Adon claims no injury, nor does he appear worse for the wear. "If the beast is better put down, then so be it." He lacks means of transportation, until a mark upon his shoulder draws his momentary attention. It is a rendering of a steed not unlike Alistair's and, once touched, shimmers and flows from him to create a facsimile of suitable riding size in three dimensions. Now Adon can mount and keep pace, as well.

"True but ... " Alistair starts, and he's probably staring at the show from behind the helmet's mask. A few moments later he says, "That works" nodding his head. "I suppose we go that way" he says, and starts off towards where the demontaur ran off.

Adon rides out alongside, returning the nod. "It does." Eyes are then focused forward and thoughts honed to the task of locating the creature to end it.

Fifteen minutes of trail riding in the Melech's wake would a body half-rolled under a rhododendron. Bright magenta flowers and dark green leaves spray over the prone figure who wears blue jeans and a red flannel shirt. A stout red wool cap covers the back of the head, with only a strong coppery smell clue that something is horribly wrong.

Alistair halts his horse and tilts his head a little. "Uhoh ... " he stows the rifle and breaks out the sword from the other side of the saddle instead, starting to make his way towards this person. "There is someone here" he comments.

As the pair investigate, any weapon the hunter may have been carrying is long gone, with half the face and chest a great sucking hole. The organs inside, well, the ones left, are a bright red color. Imposibly red, just tinged at the top with the beginnings of a black crust like chocolate oreos sprinkled over a cherry pie. The body is still limp, pouches at the belt bulging with the little things that make wilderness time easier. Some water purification tablets, a couple power bars, a credit stick, compass, and a couple unusual-looking shells likely for that new-fangled laser weapon.

Alistair kneels by the person to remove the belt, having spent a moment to stare - and he looks for an ID. Whatever that man has on him might belong to a family now, or, otherwise, to him - to be shared with this new person with him here probably.

"He is far beyond our help." Adon has an astute grasp of the fallen man's state. "Do you know him? Family should be notified and this man laid to rest as is proper." To this end, he dismounts to assist Alistair in tending to the victim.

The man has no ID. He could be a local outdoorsman, or a refugee from outside Tolkeen. Or even one of the many denizens but not citizens of Kingsdale. Without a face, matching a name to what's left would be tough. Anyone know a good psychic who works for free?

Alistair frowns, not that it is visible. "I do not, and there is no identification. This is unfortunate, I do not think we will be able to identify him and I am uncertain whether we should bring his body to the city now, destroyed as it is. I suppose there mightbe services there to do such a thing. For now we will take these things here and we'll decide if we're taking him on the way back."

"I will bury him, then. It is too damp for a pyre." Adon steps forward and kneels at the body in preparation to lift it. "He does not deserve to be left as carrion, nor his belonging pillaged." His rise is effortless as he lifts the corpse respectfully, without self-concern for the gore.

"His belongings are not very useful to him now. I can make better use of them ... and you might wish for some as well. I think some of this can pay for the armor, the rest I can donate to the hospital" Alistair comments, stepping aside. "I will help, I have a shovel" and he goes to get just that. His speech is fairly flat - no inflection in his voice, the absence of emotion which betrays an emotional state all of its own. Adon watches Alistair as the shovel is retrieved. "I am no thief, but if bears wealth that could heal others, that is acceptable. The costs of your repairs I shall pay, in gratitude for your assistance against the beast, and the use of your tools." He now steps several paces to relocate the corpse to make room for digging.

"That is very nice of you but you are over-reaching. It attacked me and you were the one who helped. I'm not certain I could escape by myself" Alistair replies, bringing the shovel back with him. "If you do wish to dig the grave, tell me if you are tired, I will continue. Meantime I will stand guard, who knows what else lurks here."

Adon nods and extends a hand for the shovel. "I will dig, and with haste. The blood can draw far more dangerous beasts." And so he digs, establishing a brisk but sustainable pace. "Did you come here to hunt, as well?" Small talk as he works, perhaps.

"Of course" Alistair nods his head in reply to digging with haste. "Oh, no, not really, I was just trying to find a quiet spot for a visit but ... it didn't turn out that way, perhaps I should give up" he sighs, and looks about, carefully.

"Whom do you visit here?" Adon continues to move broad shovelfulls. "Game is scarce out here, and people scarcer still." His head turns towards the armored man as he continues to work. "No matter what your goal, you must not abandon it."

"No one, my girlfriend is in town and ... I wished to bring her out to some place nice, but this is just dangerous" Alistair explains, looking this way and that still. "This one might be good to abandon, or at least the location ... "

Adon nods, even to Alistair's back, before returning his full attention to the deepening grave. It will not be long before it is reasonable for its purpose. "A different location is wise. I have no suggestions to offer, save for elsewhere."

Whether focused on his task or lacking anything further, he complete the remainder in silence. "It is done." He straightens and moves to retrive the body and settle it. Alistair turns around, "That was fast" he says, "Where are you from? You have the strangest tatoos, are they magical?" he asks almost in one breath, brows hiking up. He looks to the grave, as well, silent for a few moments. After a while he steps up to it to form a cross with two sticks on top of it. "I don't suppose a monument would really help here..."

"A marker may not endure," Adon delays the return offer of the tool until Alistair is finished, "but it is worthwhile for the time it remains. I arrived from a world beyond this one, but I, like all those before me, hail this world as home." His head then dips. "Yes, they are of magic. Badges of accomplishments and the tools to enable more."

"They are neat ... I will take a moment for a prayer for his soul. Hopefuly he was good" says Alistair, and does remain silent for a moment once more, longer this time. When done, he says, "I apologize for my lack of manners Sir, I am Alistair."

Adon remains silent during the respectful moment, not that he has proven verbose. "The midst of battle is not the proper time for introductions. I am Adon, Sir Alistair." His hand is offered.

Alistair reaches to shake Adon's hand. The armor conceals toned muscle, but the grip doesn't - not that Alistair is trying to make a contest of it. "Pleased to meet you and thank you for the aid. Things got scary for a few moments."

Adon's grip is no more than firm before it releases. "I was slow to respond. That will not happen again. Are you to return to the city, then? There is no reason for me to linger with the game exhausted or frightened away."

"I shall, but I don't think it can be left ... it will heal and just do the same again - but then, that isn't my job either" Alistair muses, "But if it killed someone because I left it ... " and he mulls over it some more, "There are some farms around the city, it might go bother people."

"You cannot halt every threat, at all times, in all places, Sir Alistair." Adon concedes that reality, if not merrily. "Better to fight the battle before you, that you know, than follow it into the unknown. Another could strike in your absence just as easily."

"Right..." Alistair murmurs, "And they aren't always alone either" he ads, glancing about. "Best return anyway. Would you like half of what these bring in?" he inquires, motioning to the remains of ammunition and other things.

Adon shakes his head. "The wounded and the displaced need it far more. I did not come here for wealth, but we should return." The task at hand completed, he begins to move from the gravesite.