Plotlogs
Dead Men Tell No Tales Sr Aristotle
Nestled in the haunting forests at the edge of Haven, Deacon, Jett, and Evelynn gather to hunt down a powerful necromancer, the target of a bounty that had seen previous attempts fail. This trio, connected by their association with The Hand, ventures into a woodland shrouded in an oppressive supernatural gloom and the scent of death. They are drawn towards the coordinates provided by the scouts, unwittingly enlisting themselves in a game presided over by a foe who wields the forest like a puppet master.
As the hunt commences, a disturbing omen unfolds: a grotesque, once-dead stag, resurrected again, serves as the necromancer's macabre herald. The clash is sudden and brutal, with Deacon forced to engage the undead creature in combat. But the true chaos begins when Evelynn, seized by the sorcerer's power, betrays Deacon, striking him in a moment of control lost to dark magic.
Despite the assault from one of his own, Deacon persists. His resilience and the pressing threat of the necromancer hold the group's focus razor-sharp, but it does not stop the enemy from retaliating. The soldiery mage takes a damaging hit, yet pain and struggle buy Jett a moment to sling an arrow blindly into the fray. Luck serves where skill cannot; his shot lands a fatal wound upon their adversary.
Realizing the gravity of their success and the heavy cost, Evelynn regains control from the necromancer's dominion. The trio takes a moment to regroup, each assessing the battered state of their allies. Not losing sight of their purpose, Deacon gruesomely confirms their victory by taking the necromancer's eyes as proof. Meanwhile, Evelynn and Jett banter with an eerie casualness, marking the end of the hunt.
The forest begins to heal from the necromancer's tampering, revealing a field of carnage and the bodies of past Hand members who had fallen to this formidable enemy. The backup team called by Jett during the scuffle arrives tardily, only to be greeted by the aftermath and tasked with clean-up. The night concludes with an offer of a friendly ride from Deacon to Jett, the toll of their deadly ballet borne silently as they exit the stage, triumphant yet scarred by the night's events.
(Dead Men Tell No Tales(SRAristotle):SRAristotle)
[Tue Dec 19 2023]
In The Forests Outskirting the Town
Nestled on the outskirts of town, the dense forest stands as an enigmatic realm, cloaked in a supernatural darkness that seems to defy the natural order. As sunlight struggles to penetrate the thick canopy, an otherworldly gloom blankets the wooded expanse. The air is thick with an eerie stillness, broken only by the occasional rustle of unseen creatures. The foliage, shrouded in shadows, creates an unsettling feeling that something, concealed just beyond sight, is on the verge of awakening. With it is the stench of rot and death. Whispers linger in the air, and each step into the obsidian depths feels like an invitation to the unknown, a sensation that lingers long after departing the confines of the foreboding woodland.
It is night, about 31F(0C) degrees, There is a waxing gibbous moon.
OOC: Hello everyone! We'll get started once everyone emotes their arrivals. We're currently just south of Mariner's Highway in Haven, still - you all would have had previous knowledge that this would be the last location of your target, along with any information Deacon may have shared previously, if that happened.
Arrival is a simple enough task with the meeting point being so close to Haven proper. Jett arrives on foot though he doesn't bear the appearance of fatigue, even if he drags his feet with each step - he probably parked that cramped Miata up the road a ways. His bow is hooked onto the strap of his bag that swings to and fro as he shuffles along, and he keeps his jacket tugged close around him in an attempt to obfuscate the armor beneath.
It's a quiet night that sees a smoky grey Nissan come trailing down the road toward the highway. Pulling off to the curb away back, Deacon will remove himself from the vehicle with a steady prowl to his gait and purpose to his movements. He's wasting no time as he's moving back around the SUV and opening the hatchback to grab bags and gear out of the 'trunk' of the vehicle. He moves briskly, as if expecting others to be showing up at any minute and in the meantime the man clambers up onto the roof of his vehicle for better vantage point, letting eyes scan out through the forest's shadows for what little that will do right now.
Evelynn arrives at the edge of Mariners Highway, she doesn't take a car to the meeting location. Instead a moth flutters through the night and just out of eye sight to regular human eyes she transforms from insect to human. The rest of the trip to the other two is done on foot with silent footsteps. She carries her broadsword at her side, perhaps it will be needed and she's no doubt armored beneath her clothes. Once she's near her fellow hand members she tips her head politely to each and says nothing.
Jett returns the polite head nod to Evelynn without a word. He takes up a spot, leaning his weight into the side of that grey Nissan Deacon has perched atop. He drags dull greys to watch the soldier without a word of criticism nor encouragement, perhaps leaving him to break the silence when he saw fit.
Whatever noise that encompassed the town seems to dwindle to a complete silence the closer this task force seems to get to the meeting point. Deacon, Jett, and Evelynn, arrive by their own means - a convenience given how close this last location is to the township of Haven. Just off of the highway. There is time for them to reconvene, should it be necessary, but a glance to the forest in the south reveals a darkness within that seems... unnatural. From where they stand just on the outside of the threshold, the stench of death and rot can be picked up, but nothing so worse than the thick weight of the silence in the area - almost blanketing the footsteps of the trio as they prepare themselves.
There is an alert sent out on their devices, a report from the scouts of the Hand that give a location of the man they're searching for. These are the same alerts that have been sent periodically throughout the week since his bounty was first sent and failed to reclaim, and the coordinates point deep south into the forests where they gather outside.
As others arrive, the more easily visible form of Deacon almost acts like a beacon for the others and when they end up close he jumps off of the roof of the vehicle with a simple drop onto his feet. A straight blade hangs at his hip, and the man shoulders a large-bore rifle as if it were any old carbine. That arrogant grin that seems to take nothing seriously already in its usual place across his features as he's nodding toward Jett and Evelynn both. "Sa va?" Come simple words, in bastardized French. "I'm glad to have you here" he says to them both, but his eyes cut specifically at Evelynn this time. "But be warned. This one may have power over you." That's all he says to them but then he's shifting his expression toward Jett. He hefts the titanium-alloy shield that manages to gleam even in the dim lights of the street lamps as he shrugs his shoulder. "After this guy caught me in the back with something that STILL hurts ... I had to pick up this. Just in case."
Evelynn gently sniffs to scent the air. She does not have to check her gear, this was done before her arrival. When Deacon speaks to them about the power the enemy may have over them she glances to Jett, coming to a subtle realization then she looks back to Deacon to study him, making the assumption, "A necromancer?"
Chirp. When that notification hits Jett's phone, he's dragging his attention from Deacon to the device he palms. The updated location has the teen hum out a plain noise and an accepting nod. "If he hurt you, then I'll hang in the back," he explains, not eager to prove his durability or lack of it out in the woods. He gathers his bow from the latch on his bag and prepares his ammunition. ".. Anything else to know other than he's going to be an issue?" he questions, his nose wrinkling at the stench of rot - not that he turns green from it either.
In the distance to the south, just at the treetops, come a flock of birds fluttering away, as if spooked or frightened by something. They're silent, though, as they take to the skies, and their flapping is only heard as they cross the threshold from forest to town, over the three below. The caws they cry out are abrupt, breaking a bit of that silence once they hit the town and disappear into the distance. The more apprehensive of the three might feel a warning in that.
There's an immediate nod of his head toward Evelynn, "Yes. We saw him raise corpses, and use them as .. fodder? Scouts .. warnings. I don't know if he pulls at the blood also" He pauses, a strangely wistful expression coming across him for a moment before he's shaking it off. With another nod to Jett, Deacon is giving him a quick thumbs up. "I don't mind taking the brunt of the hits here .. it's why I brought the board" he says with a rough breath. He seems ... excited, nervous? This is definitely a stronger targer than he's used to hunting that's for certain! He points southward, the direction indicated by their alerts on the phone. The flight of birds flocking up does bring a distinct frown to Deacon's face. "That's him" he says. There's no doubt in the man's voice.
"Thanks," Jett voices to Deacon when the soldier confirms he would be doing his work as a barrier to danger. His eyes dart up in a quick flick towards the birds that flutter away overhead, and his dour expression deepens into displeased contemplation. ".. Following your lead," he says with a tick of his chin southward when he peers towards the oppressive woods.
Evelynn soundlessly nods with Jett's decision to follow Deacon's lead. She trains her senses southward, sense of smell, night vision and her tactical awareness. Keeping alert for possible ambush as they prepare to go. She keeps her sword in a firm grip, but the point is lowered towards the ground.
Leading a small group of troops into the battle zone isn't anything new for Deacon it seems, the sergeant taking point easily enough but it won't take long for his pace into the forest to slow some and creep not quite to a halt but to a much more cautious pace as they continue. "Something ... off" he murmurs. His eyes squint, and for perhaps the first time for either Jett or Evelynn who admittedly don't spend a lot of time with Deacon, see him struggle to peer at what lies before them or up ahead. "There's .. I fucking hate magic" he breathes quietly, without even the grace of a look for Evelynn. "Watch the fog .." He sounds nervous now in full. This isn't the kind of hunt he normally partkes in either.
Evelynn's head cants ever so slightly and she speaks up, "The area is shrouded in dark magic, its so thick I can see it." she lets that comment hang in the air for an awkward pause then says, "Beware of traps of a magical variety..or ambushes" she glances to Deacon when he sees something similar to her
The moment those leading footsteps by Deacon guide the trio into the woods and crossing those thresholds, the stench of that rot and death only worsen, and the darkness hiding amongst the trees seem to envelop and thicken. There is no silence that hide within these woods once one is inside - soft rustling of wind and tree branches and leaves are ever present, and a trick of the mind threatens to have one believe they're whispering... unintelligible and constant. That thickness of dark magic that someone and Deacon can see is imperceptible for poor Jett as clearly as it is for the others, but the thick darkness seems to wisp about like a slowly enveloping fog. It carries with it the sense of being watched.
The moment those leading footsteps by Deacon guide the trio into the woods and crossing those thresholds, the stench of that rot and death only worsen, and the darkness hiding amongst the trees seem to envelop and thicken. There is no silence that hide within these woods once one is inside - soft rustling of wind and tree branches and leaves are ever present, and a trick of the mind threatens to have one believe they're whispering... unintelligible and constant. That thickness of dark magic that Evelynn and Deacon can see is imperceptible for poor Jett as clearly as it is for the others, but the thick darkness seems to wisp about like a slowly enveloping fog. It carries with it the sense of being watched.
Struggling to see is Jett's first issue as they delve deeper into the woods. A headlamp dangles off his bag from a strap, but he doesn't reach for it just yet. There is a small nod from Jett when Deacon makes note of the peculiar environment, and when Evelynn mentions magic being involved, there is a dull him from the teen. ".. Alright. I'm sure he has something prepared for us, or else they wouldn't bother putting a bounty on him," he assumes quietly, beneath the whispering of nature around him. His eyes aim downwards, trying to pay mind to the footsteps of his allies in this moment as they tread towards danger.
That can only bring an easy nod from Deacon as he speaks quietly. "Last time he used animals like scouts ... he knows we're here. And if he's got the same demeanor .. I don't think he's gonna run from us." He speaks plainly, not disrespecting their own sets of skills or his own, but speaking honestly about their situation. "And I don't think he's entirely wrong" he mutters even as that imperious silence and oppressive fog starts creeping in. With a clench of his fist, Deacon gestures for Jett and Evelynn to close in ranks. Not quite shuffling at back-to-back-to-back triangle of movement, he still effects a tight-knit formation for the time being. He doesn't let them fall to a stand still, keeping them moving toward where that flock of birds were spotted, further inward into the deeper woods south of Mariner's now. "He stole data" he offers toward Jett.
"Originally it was more the principle of the thing, I think yoou know? We can't have rats jumping ship" Deacon adds, each slow step met with his head on the swivel. "But when we came at him before, they didn't tell us he was a fuckin' sorcerer. "
"We don't have many arcanist, shame to lose one." Evelynn decides, sounding unbothered over-all despite her words. She tightens up formation with Deacon and Jett, revealing a veteran of possibly a century of battles, she knows how to move. She watches high in the trees once animal spies are mentioned to look for the reflections of light in the eyes of owls, rats and other nocturnal creatures like herself.
The snapping crunch of some branch broken on the ground resounds nearby - closer than what anyone would feel overtly comfortable with. The repeat, again, and again, and get closer each time as though something were approaching. The darkness of this supernatural kind of fog continues to wisp about, blinding all of only the closest things to them, save for Evelynn and Deacon, whose eyes are able to better pierce through. The foliage to the south, still directly ahead of the three rustle a bit louder now, as something -or someone- threatens to step through. How close it might get before it's or they is visible to everyone is to be seen.
Jett's lips press into a firm line, and with Deacon's guidance, he tightens up the formation. ".. Can't say I'm experienced fighting sorcerers," he begins but the words are cut short by the sound of snapping twigs hidden in the mist. His bow raises, taking aim at the unseen but not yet firing. The rustling demands his attention to swivel, yet his careful not to stray from Deacon and Evelynn - his actions held at bay with his eyesight not providing him the clear to fire just yet.
There's not much for it now, here in Deacon's mind. Surprise is something they'd lost a week before, and the fact that this man is still out here suggests something is still holding him here. Nothing to do .. but advance. "Forward" Deacon calls quietly and he hefts up that shield that he's got strapped to his arm looking like something out a cosplay convention if not for the very real gleam to the edge of his weapon, or the metal of his rifle. When the crack and crackle comes, Deacon pauses his motion entire, a hand coming up quick with a tightly clenched fist in that silent call for a halt. "Let's just say magic doesn't care if you're wearing a kevlar vest that's for damn sure" he grunts in Jett's direction as his eyes scan for any sense of what approaches now. "But we'll see if the iron and sttel in this thing helps do the trick." Deacon doesn't sound entirely convinced but there it is. He frowns, thinking about the last time he'd run afoul of this guy and he grows silent for a moment.
Evelynn lifts her free hand with the dark tendrils of magic swirling around her fingertips, much like the fog that surrounds the party. She's prepared to use magic against magic but for now she just wields it like a loaded gun while the sword at her other hand is adjusted to be held in front to ward a blow away. She stays silent, especially when Deacon signals to halt.
Both Deacon and Evelynn, their eyes darted to the source of the noise, would be more able to see what is approaching as it steps through. For Jett, it's only the smell of it that will offer his imagination a visual. Death and Rancid Rot fill the air the moment there is no foliage about to absorb the scent of what stalks closer. Exposed first are Antlers. Or rather, Antler. It's connected to a stag that steps through, but it looks like it has been long, long dead. Its eyes are milky and empty of life and color. Or... rather, it's eye, singular. Where the other would be is a instead a caved in part of a skull that explains also why it features only one antler. A gash is on its neck and underbelly, causing entrails to drag on the ground when it moves. Void of life in its eye and yet, it still seems alert. It looks first to Evelynn, despite her not being the one leading the charge and it tilts its head back enough to do so. Then, dead eye flicks over to Jett, whom the boy wouldn't be able to clearly see. And then, to Deacon. It stares. And it stares for a long time, and then... it grunts, and barks, and bleats, and there's a yowl that leaves its lips - loud, like a siren or a dying cat. It doesn't feel like it would be a sound appropriate for it.
As soon as the thing comes into sight, Deacon recognizes it. "Huh. Same carcass ..." he says to Evelynn before raising up his rifle as if to point at the thing. He hesitates, he knows he shouldn't but when it makes that familiar sound he winces and then quickly looks to cut the distance between himself and the dead animal. What worked before might work again, at least temporarily? And Deacon slips from sight to re-appear right next to the thing as his blade flashes through the dessicated flesh of the deer's neck trying to cut off that sound before it can carry too far. "Shit" he curses, unable to prevent it entirely of course.
"Abomination." Evelynn says in a hushed raspy voice. The spell she held in her hand dissipates as though she was essentially holstering it, perhaps its not the right tool for this job. The sword raises a fraction as it could be of use against such a creature if it proves hostile which is likely. Its Deacon who moves first, pathing in close to strike, she hangs back to see the effects of his attack and keep an eye to see if it was bait all along.
The song the unknown stench of death sings within the mist must be unpleasant for Jett - as soon as it leaves the rotten he is pulling the string of his bow taut. That is, until Deacon disappears the the magic disperses from Evelynn without her following suit. He stays his shot then, aiming the bow down as to not accidentally shoot the pathing soldier. ".. The fuck was that?" he wonders in a whisper.
"It won't stay down" Deacon will breathe, assuming he does put the thing down as he whirls about now, hoilding up his shield at the ready.
Deacon's blade to this death Stag drops the beast, but it fails to fully silence it. The blade to its neck influencing that bleat to reverberate like a low pained groan that won't stop... like a low flatline. It's not loud enough to prevent them from speaking over it - Jett's question is heard easily enough in the darkness, but it seems as far as this stag is related, what is dead will not stay dead. That eye, even with its body on the ground, is staring at the group.
"I do not have something with which to burn it with." Evelynn informs Deacon as she approaches his position. She points her blade towards the 'dead' creature in case it starts to rouse right away. "We should go for the necromancer fast to put an end to this." she faintly scowls as she looks upon the distantly related 'undead' "I hate this sort of magic."
Jett treads closer in step with Evelynn, trying to peer at the creature of disgust where it wails. "I have a lighter and some liquor, but starting a fire in the woods might not --" he begins to say before his attention whips to the side rather abruptly. His eyes peer empty and dull into the mist, as if he had given up on trying to peer beyond it. ".. Everything got quiet," he points out the sudden silence of the whispering of the woods once it had dawned on him.
The Stag's nose twitches as Evelynn draws closer, and perhaps that blade was enough to silence it despite it not penetrating. Dead eye turns to look at her, head tilting her direction as that bleating siren of a noise stops, rather abruptly. Its nose continues to twitch, like trying to scent her, before it's slowly beginning to clamber up to its feet as Jett announces the silence in the forest that he noticed.
"Me too" Deacon says before reaching into the holster that sits at his hip. "I don't have fire ... but I have this." He holds up a simple item: A fragmentation grenade with an older pineapple-style design. "Which won't leave enough to put back together?" He's agreeing with the sentiment from Evelynn then before answering Jett as he tries to steady himself. "Fine we'll do it the hard way" he mutters. "I think .. it's like a warning system for the man. Or .. something more even. This isn't a deer like the one I saw last week. It's the same carcass." He points at the eyeball staring at them with a grimace of distaste. Then he's standing up to his full height and stepping a pace or two away from the other two. "We'll see if he reveals" he says low before taking his sabre and rattling it against the front of his shield loudly, now. (Heh, sabre-rattling) "Right then, fuck! Round two, shit-heel!"
It's a strange sight, the modern soldier kind of revealing that inner nature of Deacon's bloodline in some fashion, out here now challening their unknown enemy in almost chivalrous manner, in the ways of old. Still though, he's definitely drawing the attention to himself, in the hopes that the enemy will reveal itself enough for Jett and Evelynn to act.
When Jett points out the silence, it becomes evident to Evelynn and Deacon. Those earlier sounds of the forest - the wind that rustles the branches of the trees and foliage that scratches against another like whispering is indeed quiet. There's an eerie awareness to it, like something in that silence was aware of the group which most certainly is aware of it. It doesn't have time though to thicken in its influence of unease before Deacon is rounding his sabre against his shield, breaking that silence with metal on metal like a beacon in silence to pinpoint exactly where they are. The Stag continues to rise to its feet, moving a bit quicker now as though startled by that noise from Deacon, and unless stopped it tries to depart deeper into the woods.
Deacon says "Drop that fuckin' thing!"
The command barked by Deacon sets Jett off. The tension had drawn his nerves taut, ready to snap and despite the danger he lunges at the stag trying to struggle to its feet. His free hand pulls his knife and he is aiming a stab towards the remaining eye peering at them - careful of that remaining antler.
Evelynn falls into a battle stance and raise her broadsword when Deacon orders the attack. Her features tighten with immense focus and strain and then she swings that broadsword. But not towards the dead animal, instead she aims straight for Deacon from his flank, looking to cripple him in one surprise attack. She says nothing to indicate why she's betraying him
With Jett chasing after that Stag in the darkness, the Stag tries to evade in such a way that would beckon to separate Jett from the group. He leaves behind only Evelynn and Deacon, the latter of who is busying himself with creating a terrible noise that breaks the silence by way of metal on metal. Almost immediately after Jett darts, the darkness of the forest thickens around him, behind him, as if trying to obfuscate an eyeline that would allow anyone to see him clearly enough to give chase if anything adverse were to happen. The rustling of the treetops further southbound are hard to hear over the challenging taunt that Deacon levies. Something silently approaches in what is son to be an eruption of chaos.
He's fast, but he's not fast enough. Deacon doesn't turn quite in time to catch the surprise attack coming in from behind at the hands of Evelynn. Sword bites into the back of his leg, above the crook of his knee not right on point but enough to do the deed. There's a sudden hiss at the smell of fresh blood blossoms; soaking through the back of his tactical gear swiftly as he drops. "Fuck!" There's another shout, as the man has to drop to a knee before he can react in any real fashion. It stops his rattling but he has to contend with something much closer to himself now. "Fuckin' ..." he eyes Evelynn warily now, hamstrung he can only shift himself with that board up in front of him for defense and his blade ot keep her longer reach at bay. "H-he's stronger n' I thought. Or you're weaker" he says roughly.
The blade of Jett's knife swipes through air, missing the more dexterous beast as it runs deeper into the shade of magic enveloping the area. "Fuck," he hisses not taking note of the gloom that encompasses the area around him in his hunt for the stag. His heavy footsteps pound against the ground until he stops abruptly and tries to raise his bow to shoot off an arrow at the undead abomination before he loses sight completely.
And so it goes, Deacon now forced to fight his own ally in Evelynn as Jett is cut off from them by the darkening fog - Even best-laid plans only carry as far as the flight of the first arrow, and this wasn't even that. Trouble for them all now.
Evelynn struggles with her entire body, but specifically her sword arm shakes as she tries to regain control of herself. "Disable me if you have to." she hisses in irritation at her situation. But then she suddenly releases from whatever was holding her. It's like a held breath is deeply drawn as she recoils from Deacon and pulls back from Deacon to be out of range of a second attack, "I'm a liability against this target."
Jett finds himself separated from the group in a darkness that he cannot see through, and both Deacon and Eve distracted with eachother enough that the rustling of something approaching has gone unnoticed, even moreso when it stopped. Jett fires off, though, his arrow into the darkness. It wizzes through, but never seems to connect with anything despite the forest being dense.
"But you're who we got and I can't take him myself" Deacon says in a hiss, but a thankful one as Evelynn is breaking off now. "Shit .. you fuckin' .." He plants his saber into the ground to push himself to his feet slowly, having to HEAVILY favor his off leg for now. "If it comes to it" he says at last eyes turning around to try and find Jett now, without success. It's only the sound of an arrow cutting through the air with that low whistle that brings Deacon's attention back to the front of the situation. "We have to find him. How do we find him?" He states to Evelynn for a moment then, pressing her for whatever information he can think to ask for. "Carson! Report back!"
"I dont know how to find him. But we need to follow Jett." Evelynn tells Deacon with a hint of urgency in her voice. She begins to run in the direction that Jett left, spending no time checking on Deacon to see if she seriously wounded him in anyway.
"God da-," Jett begins to growl out his bitterness at his own failures - until the words are caught in his throat and silenced. There is a short noise of pain that coughs out of the delinquent before he's launched from his feet and into the snow with a tumbling thud. His bow falls into the snow and debris of the forest floor as his attention darts around in search of someone. ".. Guys!" he shouts out into the gloom, removing his hand from his chest to check for signs of blood.
Whatever knocked Jett off of his feet sent him much further than he'd realize, and he's crashing in front of an Evelynn who had darted off to search for him. Deacon is the one left behind for now, but things are close enough to him that he would be able to hear what is going on. Before Evelynn and Jett both land in a surge of dark energy, a male - pale skin, pale eyes, brown hair. He looks emaciated, but at the same time alert and spry, as if boundless with energy. The eyes that Jett darts with as he calls for aid would see him clearly, and the energy that sounds this man's hands, tendrils of dark sorcerous magic, safely reveal that this is indeed the Godling they're searching for. He doesn't say anything - feeling little threat as he looks down at Jett and the approaching Evelynn.
The Cajun can't argue with that and he won't move as fast as Evelynn right now but he'll push himself forward. Oblivious to whatever has approached them out here, he does see the wisdom in trying to re-group with their comrade and he just tries to keep himself fast enough right now to keep Evelynn in sight so that she too doesn't get too lost in the darkness as well. If he spies that Godling, he may pause given the distraction of his two comrades might actually provide him with a small amount of surprise. Stealth isn't his forte anymore much, but Deacon hasn't lost all of his touch.
Evelynn lifts her free hand and the dark swirl returns, just as she prepared before. She flicks her wrist towards the man as soon as she discovers him to send a magical attack towards him in an effort to try to blind him temporarily. "Deacon." she calls, with a sense of urgency to help him marco-polo his ways towards the pair. "Attack, don't let up." she hisses to Jett
Close-ranged doesn't seem all that appealing to Jett, especially with the manner at which he's looked at. Unthreatened is the bounty as he peers this way. Evelynn's hiss gathers him out of the chaos of his mind, and he scrambles around in search for his bow on the ground in hopes to gather himself and begin the assault.
"/This/ is what The Hand sends to me?" This man asks, voice croaking in the darkness. He's looking down at Jett, like what his next decision to do to the boy is a genuine tragedy. A sphere of dark energy pools in his palm as he looks to him, lethal intent in his eyes. "A child." He pauses only for a moment before rearing his arm back to strike him, but Evelynn's blinding may have very well spared Jett's life. The burst of pain that blinds him causes his blast of energy to fly wide, going northbound and narrowly missing Deacon as he approaches to reconnect with his comrades. He hisses, as if annoyed, but doesn't move as though a threat is perceived. "Get closer." He dares, blood-shot eyes preventing him from seeing anything but the closet targets. It's unclear of who he may be speaking to, but something rustles in the foliage as he starts to whisper.
Pushing himself forward, Deacon doesn't waste time or hesitate when Evelynn's words come reaching out. He's shifting to a full on run despite the pain pushing himself to brink of letting his leg give out on him! He tries to move with Stealth but he has to push for full on run as he tries to make the Godling from behind. Aiming that Damascus blade to the left side of his back, just left of the spine and toward the middle region of the ribs where the heart should be. He puts everything he can into that, calling out with a shout of his own, "Find me, on the Sea .." he breathes and a rush of energy courses through him. Perhaps enough to get the job done, perhaps enough to stop his leg from buckling before he can close that distance.
After casting her blinding magic Evelynn stays away from Jett and doesn't rush towards the necromancer as Deacon attacks. She is aware she could be used as a weapon against anyone near her and so she chooses to not be near anyone if there is a chance she wont be needed to swing a sword in the end.
Despite this not being Jett's first time on a battlefield, the potency in power displayed by the sorcerer has rattled the teen. When the blast flies beyond him, just nearly impacting, a shiver racks over his spine and limbs. Not that it stops him from beginning to fire off arrows towards the defector. The mundane ammunition probably striking more frequently into the ground than the intended target. He does the opposite of draw closer, carefully having his feet carry him away while staying within eye sight to the best of his ability.
A strike to this Godling's back, to the heart, would be a safe bet of dropping him quickly. But Deacon's blade never finds him. This forest reeks of the dead, and to a Necromancer, it is his playground. That rustling from the foliage as he whispers becomes louder and louder, before that carcass of a Stag can be seen darting out. Its actions would have been a moment too late if Deacon did not announce himself with that shout of his ow. A singular Antler collides at Deacon's side as he goes for his maker, and the impact sends the Stag and Deacon tumbling off to the side as that assassination attempt goes thwarted. The Godling begins to rub at his blood-shot eyes, easing the pain from himself as he beckons his vision back. "...A toy for me to play with," he says, spitting out with those venomous words as if finishing some sentence from earlier. "And a reckless soldier. This is what The Hand has to offer?" The arrows that fire from Jett whiz past him since they're blindly shot, but one gets too close for comfort and ends up scratching at his cheek. "Enough!" He calls out, sending a blast of energy towards Jett that misses as his eyesight is only somewhat returning, whizzing past Evelynn instead.
seeing Deacon's failure and Jett is attacking from range. Evelynn moves to attack directly. She dips just enough to avoid the errant blast then she's headed to charge right for the godling to do just what Deacon attempted except from the front. Run him through with the tip of her sword. There is no battle cry from her, she's not even broken a sweat from all the activities tonight nor does she breath heavy..or at all.
A grunt, and the weight barrelled into him causes him to shove off the side and his attempt is thwarted! Tumbling rolling, at least Deacon is full of renewed vigor and energy. Rolling to his feet he tries again, but this time he's moving to run in tandem with Evelynn. He steps in front of her and tries to put himself and his shield between her and the Sorcerer and he's taking his cue from the vampiress, now. When she goes in for the strike, he'll try to accentuate it with one of his own. It's for the man's head he swipes for, or his feet with grim determination. Reckless is a fact, though. Deacon will shove himself into the way of danger without thinking about it twice if he thinks it will gain them the edge that they need. "Carson! Call it in, get backup out here! Don't lay off!"
It's two contradictory orders of course, from Deacon. Use the radio - don't stop shooting! But use the radio.
Jett finds himself lucky when Godling misses his next shot. He weaves away from the trail, but the shadow of the stag duffing Deacon has him wince. Out here in the woods, calling for backup might be difficult. It is his phone he reaches for, but instead of hopping onto the static of the radio, he sets off an S.O.S to the rest of the Chapter on the device. "I can't see shit!" he barks out as he holds his fire when both of his allies cut the distance short between them and their objective.
Evelynn's charge is effective, until the sound of Deacon clambering to his feet and charging in front of her is picked up by the Godling's ears. His head is turning towards that direction, the heavy thudding of footsteps and shield and Deacon's yelling for Jett to keep firing blindly in the direction of all three of them, alerting the Godling of where this next attempt is coming from. Golden eyes turn towards them, eyesight recovered enough to see them in the darkness he manufactured. It's fortunate though that Jett is holding his fire for now. A burst of dark, necrotic energy is sent forth from the Necromancers fingertips directly ahead of him where Deacon and Evelynn are charging. It's a blast enough that would strike the shield and stumble Deacon into the Evelynn he stands in front of, before the Necromancer is taking a supernatural leap into the treetops to regain his composure in the darkness.
Evelynn makes a noise of displeasure when Deacon is blasted back into her. There is annoyance in it but she's too determined to say anything and she's in hot pursuit of the godling. She drops into a brief squat to store energy in her legs then she leaps supernaturally into the air to try and follow the necromancer into the same tree.
The shot seems almost to be what Deacon's waiting for though, and while it's a risk and he knows it he'll try to plant his feet and drop to a knee, slamming the shield into the ground to try and take the brunt of that blow without the need to stumble. But he won't get the thing planted in time, and the force of the blow will send him flying backward in a tumble across the ground that's full of muffled grunts and curses in French as he gets flung back into the darkness.
The S.O.S sent by Jett is responded to, and the alert that returns - to the phones of Haven chapter-wide, suggest a 'disposable' team is being dispatched. The Necromancer finds himself in the trees, alone only for a moment before Evelynn is meeting him there. He watches her approach and her landing, the tree shared by the both of them. "...I'm going to make you eat your friends." He threatens to her, his own body tensing as tendrils of dark sorcery begin to dance around his fingers.
"I don't have friends." Evelynn is keen to say, for some reason its important for her to clarify that point given the circumstances. Both the necromancer and her balance on the branches in the tree and she earns a faint scowl and straight when she senses his magic attempt to take hold. She whispers something and imperceptibly in the dark her shadow detaches from her, a shadow version of her, blade and all glides along the branch and aims to sink its shadow blade into the necromancer at center mass.
There is an affirmative chirp of his device from the response. Instead of shouting out that information, though, he keeps it locked tight, perhaps biding time in hopes the Godling would delay a potential retreat. Then again, retreating may not be on his agenda either. Jett tries to slip closer to where the trees rustle, eyes aimed upward in that mist to try and scout which figure is not-friend or foe.
Up in the trees now, it at least gives Deacon time to recover. Further back off, Deacon is coughing and grunting softly as he tries to disentangle himself from the shield that's kept him alive but done as much damage as it has helped him in this case. Reaching groggily for the rifle strapped around his back to bring it around to the front, the man tries to slow his breathing to something more normal and he tries to put his eye to the scope and start scanning the tree-line toward the general direction of Evelynn's leap and the words that come from up above. He doesn't move or take a shot yet, just trying to find a moment of calm, where he can find the right sight. It seems that Jett is keeping things more quiet now too, at least Deacon has finally keyed in to the Godling's far advanced sense of his surroundings.
"Shame." He says in reply to Evelynn's words. "I do." He decides to reply with, lips curling into a grin as he speaks loud enough for Evelynn, Jett, and Deacon to hear. "I have eyes all over this forest. On every side of my head." He says to Evelynn, a bit pointedly as she whispers. "I can silence you with a thought, puppet." He says. It seems for now, though, he may not be aware of the shadow that Evelynn has summoned that forms and blends into the darkness. Down below, however, that Stag is making its way over towards Deacon - he may mistake those steps for Jett's, but an antler is prodding shoving into him to refocus his gaze away from the tree tops. Jett might not be able to ascertain visually which target is friend or foe, but the necromancer speaking is the only indication of where his aim needs to go. "You don't even know why they sent you after me." He says to Evelynn, just as her shadow minion circles behind him and seems geared to strike on her command. "Think about it. I control the dead... and they send /you/ to me, with a child and a soldier well past his prime."
Evelynn spreads her arms out in a gesture that suggest to the necromancer she wants him to try to enchant her again, "We are expendable." she explains as to why they were sent. There is no shame in this in her words and when she's finished the last syllable, the shadow assassin strikes for the heart with it's very tangible shadow blade while the necromancer is busy taunting her and the others..
Words that come to taunt Deacon have their desired effect on the man, there's no question. Standing, There's a swift motion as Deacon whips the butt of his rifle at the incoming dead antler, hoofs are too quiet to be Jett and the soldier wastes no time trying to crack the thing across the skull and shatter what's left of the animal's face and brain-pan. It's a perhipheral action though, because all of his anger and intent are on that God Sorcerer up there, now. "Past my prime, you little .." he murmurs under his breath, no doubt giving the man warning. The loud REPORT of his rifle comes echoing out into the woods as he zeros in his aim on the Godling and fires. And then again, the quick-pace racking of the bolt slide coming like practiced oil-slick movement for the man at least. Fire. Fire. Fire. Three, four rounds each followed by that heavy KA_CHINK of the slide come booming out. Maybe they'll distract this man at the right time, maybe they'll hit hiim but mostly Deacon seems to incensed to do much more than try to empty his clip at him impotently.
Maybe sound is good enough for Jett. Especially with Evelynn speaking up next. He lines up a shot for the suspected target and nocks back his next shot to let loose from where he is on the forest floor.
As Evelynn gestures for him to enchant her again, he doesn't. Instead, he's rising up and scooting closer towards Evelynn as she finishes speaking. "You are. But I don't intend--" And then a bullet fires off from Deacon. Several fire off. One strikes the minion behind him as it misses him, sending it off balace to fall to the ground. The other grazes at his shoulder, and soon he's responding with a blast of dark, nectrotic, sorcerous energy down below to strike at Deacon. The high ground advantage would ensure his blast doesn't miss. Evelynn goes dismissed for now as the Sorcerer tends to trying not to be shot, but it seems he's fully forgotten about Jett, the boy dismissed as a blind, non-threat that he wasn't even considered. The arrow strikes true, right in the neck that sends out a gurgle from his throat before he's falling from the branches to the ground below.
There's no banking it. There's no way for Deacon to get the shield out, he's left it on the ground seveal paces behind. He just keeps firing, until that roiling ball of energy comes careening toward him to hit him in the chest, full force. He's flung back paces and paces again to be slammed into the bole of a tree with a loud -crunch- before he falls to ground to thud into the underbrush.
Evelynn's shadow dissipates when its struck, the incorporeal form is not able to handle receiving damage. The vampire is about to pounce frontally when he's finally struck in the neck and topples out of the tree thanks to Jett. She takes a pause to process this new development then she drops out of the tree to land beside the necromancer and check on whether the blow was fatal. Her concern is with the neutralization of the necromancer and not whether Deacon is alright.
Jett hit something, the familiar sound of a fleshy thunk and the subsequent gurgle has him perk up. He pushes forward as quietly as he can, not calling out for a confirmation on the hit just yet but hoping to get a visual of who has joined him on the ground.
Making the smart move, Evelynn is checking on the threat, and there's a faint groan coming from the heap of hurt that's on the ground some paces away, now. Sign of life at least, if not a pleasant one right now for Deacon.
Evelynn lands next to the necromancer, and he's gurgling from the neck, as if beginning to drown on his own blood. A lucky blind shot from Jett, struck him in the neck, in the darkness. When Evelynn drops before him, his pale, golden eyes regard her with hatred. If he has any proclivity for regeneration, it is not enough to spare his life. His blow was fatal, and unless something extraordinary happens, he will die. There is no medical equipment for him in the forest. He spits something out, though, unintelligible, as he looks to Evelynn like she were the last opportunity he'd have for vengeance.
Evelynn smells the blood on the air and stares at the necromancer with a great urge, she shows her fangs and what she intends and she's moments away from descending on the wounded meal but then her eyes snap to Jett and that ferocious hunger is set on him. She leaps towards him, dropping her sword before she's even left the ground and as she lands in front of him she tries to put both hands on his throat and squeeze if he doesn't defend himself.
Soft groans continue to eminate from the pile over there in the woods, but Deacon does seem like he's going to live. Oblivious however to any potential for lasting dangers the only thing he can do is try to bring himself to a point of awareness and consciousness or drag himself together. He'll be of no help to Jett right now.
As Jett draws closer to the scene of his lucky execution, he begins to exhale a relieved sigh. One that hitches in his throat as his ally leaps forth to wrap her digits around his throat. His eyes widen in confusion and shock, but in that moment, he thrashes to shove at Evelynn and try to break free of her clutches to reel back and away.
Evelynn struggles against Jett, trying to fight the control against her but also fight Jett to strangle him with just her bare hands. Her usually lifeless eyes are full of bloodlust now and she chokes out the words, "Fight back."
The necromancers head turns to watch Evelynn assault Jett, his influence held with his dying breath as he seeks blood other than his own. He's writhing on the ground, continuing to whisper out commands in a way that spit out more of his blood into his lungs as he suffocates.
Shaky .. it's shaky feet that sees Deacon finally picking himself up. That rifle is almost a crutch, hobbling forward with ragged breath that's shallow in lungs that are almost certainy pressed in upon by cracked ribs. A pistol is in the man's hand but even from this distance, he seems confident in his aim ... It's not at Evelynn though that he's firing it's at that body down on the ground still dying and spitting out blood-flecked death rattle. A round. Two. Without the ability to dodge, he hopes that those rounds will aim true at last trying to break that lasting connection he may have over the Vampire.
"I'm.. trying!" Jett growls out as he shoves at Evelynn but eventually reels back an arm and swings a closed fist towards the woman's face. There is life in his features, the grit of his teeth and the wild look of anger and struggle caught in his usually dull gaze. That is when he hears the hushed commands of the waning Godling, and he tries to create space between Evelynn and himself to throw a thin knife towards the necromancers face.
Evelynn takes the punch in the face, there is a crunch to her nose as it breaks but there is minimal pain shown on her face but her head does cock back and she loses her grip on Jett's throat but is still grabbing for the fabric of his jacket to try to desperately keep him close and keep up the assault as directed by the necromancer.
The thrown knife that Jett sends flies wide due to Evelynn's continued assault as she follows a command not of her own. But the bullet that Deacon sends strikes the Sorcerer in the side. The pain causes his connection over Evelynn to break, like strings cut from a marionette that would see her limbs drop as her autonomy returns. The Sorcerer groans out from the pain in sounds influenced by the wetness of his blood, and then... silence. He goes limp on the ground.
It's more shaky steps forward, blood from a laceration across his forehead draining down Deacon's face as he shuffles forward again and into the sight of Evelynn and Jett now maybe. He's still holding the pistol in an unsteady hand, waiting with bated breath while that lasting silence seems to stretch It's then and only then that the man slowly tries to re-holster his sidearm which takes him a few tries to get the trajectory right in his state.
Evelynn finds herself back in control of her own body and she steps back from Jett, blood oozes from her nostrils but only in small amounts as there is no pulse in her to push it out with any force. She looks towards the now dead necromancer to ensure with her own eyes and senses that he's perished then she comments, "That was..messy."
The knife sticks into the ground missing by a long shot when he sways and nearly stumbles at the behest of Evelynn's tangled grasp on his jacket. ".. Let. Go.." Jett struggles out, but when her limbs drop, he sends his momentum sprawling backwards, falling on his ass. He remains on edge, hands balled into tight fists as he's on the ground peering up at Evelynn as if unsure if the fight was over just yet. His labored breathing escapes in misty puffs, thanks to the chill in the air. When she speaks and Deacon is holstering his gone the teen eases out and lays limp back into the soil, clearly trying to catch his breath. "Fuckin' christ. That was nuts," he exhales with a hitch.
The darkness that envelopes this forest begin to dissipate - less supernatural now and more of the standard variety for Haven. It is still dark, but there is a clarity that everyone's eyes would be able to peer through, Jett's normal ones especially. It's easier to manage, and when it dissipates fully, bodies can be seen littering the area. All kinds of animals, from stags to manticores, to birds. Likely not summoned due to the Necromancer's hubris. There are humans as well, and some of them bear the symbol of other Hand members who likely tried to bring him in and never returned. This section of the forest was his own personal graveyard.
"Good punch." Evelynn tells Jett as she reaches to cup her nose between thumb and finger and sharply set it back into place with a subtle flinch of pain. Once that is taken care of she moves to pick up her broadsword and she looks towards Deacon who took the most beating from her and the necromancer, "Will you recover?" she ask.
"Th .that . yeah" Deacon says wearily, teetering forward through the Killing Field that they find themself in, here. "But done" he says, and he's wincing his breath labored as he stumbles forth now all but leaning his entire weight in the length of his rifle. "I .. she should've had him, more than once" he coughs, turning his gaze aside so he doesn't have to look at the blood in his spittle. He slumps down by the body, now. Lifeless they seem far less threatening ... but it won't stop Deacon from giving the soft click of his switchblade. He proceeds to start cutting out the man's golden-hued eyeballs. "I'll live" he replies to Evelynn hoarsely, amid his gristly task.
A blade goes to his eye, and there is no resistance that occurs as that proof of death is acquired.
".. Yeah, sorry about that," Jett offers when Evelynn compliments his punching abilities. Once he's caught his breath and begins to take in the field of the dead he is pulling himself back up to his feet. He looks over to Deacon an unspoken question cast his way that Evelynn speaks first and when the soldier hoarsely replies he gives a satisfied nod of his head. ".. Way to take a beating out there, Sarge."
"I would say we are done with this then." Evelynn says, her statement more of a question as she looks to Deacon to confirm this to be true.
Finally, the man will stand up or at least back up to a knee. Deacon retrieves those eyes and then puts them into a plastic baggie, gruesome and bloody as it is. Then he's snapping a picture of the man's dead corpse with his phone as well, because all paperwork is done in triplicate in the Government. He blinks before slowly turning back to nod at Jett and face him and Evelynn. "I think .. I'm lucky that way." He lifts his chin wearily; a little ways off in the woods - what remains of that hunk of metal shield he'd brought into the fight. The beatings, the blasts - the thing looks the door of a Pruis after being struck by a Buick.
Deacon nods at Evelynn slowly, "I think so" he manages. "Whatever he's done with what he stole .. can't be helped. But at least this one can be filed under voluntary termination, non?"
A serenity begins to set on the area now, the supernatural influence that was rotting this place fading. There are a lot of bodies that will need cleaning, but that's a problem for anyone not these three. There would be nothing to stop them from leaving, and on the road would be the backup that Jett called that naturally arrived much, much too late to be useful.
"If we did not kill him, I would've killed you both then been enslaved to a new master." Evelynn says as a fact. She looks to the corpse one more time before she says, "Good evening then." as if they just finished a casual dinner date.
A moment later the woman steps out of reality to be swept back to wherever her shadow walk is set to take her.
It's to those poor saps that Deacon will be happy to delegate the cleanup to, as well. "Back there's the mess fellas" Deacon says with a wear smirk when the trio manages their way back out toward their place on the Highway. At least, it's toward his own vehicle that Deacon will make for - the others may go their own way!
"Think I can bum a ride off you on the way back to my car," Jett asks of Deacon after casually nodding along to Evelynn's matter of fact statement. He believes it and does nothing to protest the claim.
OOC: Thank you guys for partaking in this plot! I may have a few others relating to this in the future, but either way, I hope you enjoyed and thank you for spending the evening with me. If I have enough awards to grant to everyone I will, otherwise expect an I.O.U. Stalk up with your preferred summoned locations!
At the very least, Deacon will offer Jett the ride even as he's opening his mouth Jett is asking and Deacon just grin, "Absolutely."
As the hunt commences, a disturbing omen unfolds: a grotesque, once-dead stag, resurrected again, serves as the necromancer's macabre herald. The clash is sudden and brutal, with Deacon forced to engage the undead creature in combat. But the true chaos begins when Evelynn, seized by the sorcerer's power, betrays Deacon, striking him in a moment of control lost to dark magic.
Despite the assault from one of his own, Deacon persists. His resilience and the pressing threat of the necromancer hold the group's focus razor-sharp, but it does not stop the enemy from retaliating. The soldiery mage takes a damaging hit, yet pain and struggle buy Jett a moment to sling an arrow blindly into the fray. Luck serves where skill cannot; his shot lands a fatal wound upon their adversary.
Realizing the gravity of their success and the heavy cost, Evelynn regains control from the necromancer's dominion. The trio takes a moment to regroup, each assessing the battered state of their allies. Not losing sight of their purpose, Deacon gruesomely confirms their victory by taking the necromancer's eyes as proof. Meanwhile, Evelynn and Jett banter with an eerie casualness, marking the end of the hunt.
The forest begins to heal from the necromancer's tampering, revealing a field of carnage and the bodies of past Hand members who had fallen to this formidable enemy. The backup team called by Jett during the scuffle arrives tardily, only to be greeted by the aftermath and tasked with clean-up. The night concludes with an offer of a friendly ride from Deacon to Jett, the toll of their deadly ballet borne silently as they exit the stage, triumphant yet scarred by the night's events.
(Dead Men Tell No Tales(SRAristotle):SRAristotle)
[Tue Dec 19 2023]
In The Forests Outskirting the Town
Nestled on the outskirts of town, the dense forest stands as an enigmatic realm, cloaked in a supernatural darkness that seems to defy the natural order. As sunlight struggles to penetrate the thick canopy, an otherworldly gloom blankets the wooded expanse. The air is thick with an eerie stillness, broken only by the occasional rustle of unseen creatures. The foliage, shrouded in shadows, creates an unsettling feeling that something, concealed just beyond sight, is on the verge of awakening. With it is the stench of rot and death. Whispers linger in the air, and each step into the obsidian depths feels like an invitation to the unknown, a sensation that lingers long after departing the confines of the foreboding woodland.
It is night, about 31F(0C) degrees, There is a waxing gibbous moon.
OOC: Hello everyone! We'll get started once everyone emotes their arrivals. We're currently just south of Mariner's Highway in Haven, still - you all would have had previous knowledge that this would be the last location of your target, along with any information Deacon may have shared previously, if that happened.
Arrival is a simple enough task with the meeting point being so close to Haven proper. Jett arrives on foot though he doesn't bear the appearance of fatigue, even if he drags his feet with each step - he probably parked that cramped Miata up the road a ways. His bow is hooked onto the strap of his bag that swings to and fro as he shuffles along, and he keeps his jacket tugged close around him in an attempt to obfuscate the armor beneath.
It's a quiet night that sees a smoky grey Nissan come trailing down the road toward the highway. Pulling off to the curb away back, Deacon will remove himself from the vehicle with a steady prowl to his gait and purpose to his movements. He's wasting no time as he's moving back around the SUV and opening the hatchback to grab bags and gear out of the 'trunk' of the vehicle. He moves briskly, as if expecting others to be showing up at any minute and in the meantime the man clambers up onto the roof of his vehicle for better vantage point, letting eyes scan out through the forest's shadows for what little that will do right now.
Evelynn arrives at the edge of Mariners Highway, she doesn't take a car to the meeting location. Instead a moth flutters through the night and just out of eye sight to regular human eyes she transforms from insect to human. The rest of the trip to the other two is done on foot with silent footsteps. She carries her broadsword at her side, perhaps it will be needed and she's no doubt armored beneath her clothes. Once she's near her fellow hand members she tips her head politely to each and says nothing.
Jett returns the polite head nod to Evelynn without a word. He takes up a spot, leaning his weight into the side of that grey Nissan Deacon has perched atop. He drags dull greys to watch the soldier without a word of criticism nor encouragement, perhaps leaving him to break the silence when he saw fit.
Whatever noise that encompassed the town seems to dwindle to a complete silence the closer this task force seems to get to the meeting point. Deacon, Jett, and Evelynn, arrive by their own means - a convenience given how close this last location is to the township of Haven. Just off of the highway. There is time for them to reconvene, should it be necessary, but a glance to the forest in the south reveals a darkness within that seems... unnatural. From where they stand just on the outside of the threshold, the stench of death and rot can be picked up, but nothing so worse than the thick weight of the silence in the area - almost blanketing the footsteps of the trio as they prepare themselves.
There is an alert sent out on their devices, a report from the scouts of the Hand that give a location of the man they're searching for. These are the same alerts that have been sent periodically throughout the week since his bounty was first sent and failed to reclaim, and the coordinates point deep south into the forests where they gather outside.
As others arrive, the more easily visible form of Deacon almost acts like a beacon for the others and when they end up close he jumps off of the roof of the vehicle with a simple drop onto his feet. A straight blade hangs at his hip, and the man shoulders a large-bore rifle as if it were any old carbine. That arrogant grin that seems to take nothing seriously already in its usual place across his features as he's nodding toward Jett and Evelynn both. "Sa va?" Come simple words, in bastardized French. "I'm glad to have you here" he says to them both, but his eyes cut specifically at Evelynn this time. "But be warned. This one may have power over you." That's all he says to them but then he's shifting his expression toward Jett. He hefts the titanium-alloy shield that manages to gleam even in the dim lights of the street lamps as he shrugs his shoulder. "After this guy caught me in the back with something that STILL hurts ... I had to pick up this. Just in case."
Evelynn gently sniffs to scent the air. She does not have to check her gear, this was done before her arrival. When Deacon speaks to them about the power the enemy may have over them she glances to Jett, coming to a subtle realization then she looks back to Deacon to study him, making the assumption, "A necromancer?"
Chirp. When that notification hits Jett's phone, he's dragging his attention from Deacon to the device he palms. The updated location has the teen hum out a plain noise and an accepting nod. "If he hurt you, then I'll hang in the back," he explains, not eager to prove his durability or lack of it out in the woods. He gathers his bow from the latch on his bag and prepares his ammunition. ".. Anything else to know other than he's going to be an issue?" he questions, his nose wrinkling at the stench of rot - not that he turns green from it either.
In the distance to the south, just at the treetops, come a flock of birds fluttering away, as if spooked or frightened by something. They're silent, though, as they take to the skies, and their flapping is only heard as they cross the threshold from forest to town, over the three below. The caws they cry out are abrupt, breaking a bit of that silence once they hit the town and disappear into the distance. The more apprehensive of the three might feel a warning in that.
There's an immediate nod of his head toward Evelynn, "Yes. We saw him raise corpses, and use them as .. fodder? Scouts .. warnings. I don't know if he pulls at the blood also" He pauses, a strangely wistful expression coming across him for a moment before he's shaking it off. With another nod to Jett, Deacon is giving him a quick thumbs up. "I don't mind taking the brunt of the hits here .. it's why I brought the board" he says with a rough breath. He seems ... excited, nervous? This is definitely a stronger targer than he's used to hunting that's for certain! He points southward, the direction indicated by their alerts on the phone. The flight of birds flocking up does bring a distinct frown to Deacon's face. "That's him" he says. There's no doubt in the man's voice.
"Thanks," Jett voices to Deacon when the soldier confirms he would be doing his work as a barrier to danger. His eyes dart up in a quick flick towards the birds that flutter away overhead, and his dour expression deepens into displeased contemplation. ".. Following your lead," he says with a tick of his chin southward when he peers towards the oppressive woods.
Evelynn soundlessly nods with Jett's decision to follow Deacon's lead. She trains her senses southward, sense of smell, night vision and her tactical awareness. Keeping alert for possible ambush as they prepare to go. She keeps her sword in a firm grip, but the point is lowered towards the ground.
Leading a small group of troops into the battle zone isn't anything new for Deacon it seems, the sergeant taking point easily enough but it won't take long for his pace into the forest to slow some and creep not quite to a halt but to a much more cautious pace as they continue. "Something ... off" he murmurs. His eyes squint, and for perhaps the first time for either Jett or Evelynn who admittedly don't spend a lot of time with Deacon, see him struggle to peer at what lies before them or up ahead. "There's .. I fucking hate magic" he breathes quietly, without even the grace of a look for Evelynn. "Watch the fog .." He sounds nervous now in full. This isn't the kind of hunt he normally partkes in either.
Evelynn's head cants ever so slightly and she speaks up, "The area is shrouded in dark magic, its so thick I can see it." she lets that comment hang in the air for an awkward pause then says, "Beware of traps of a magical variety..or ambushes" she glances to Deacon when he sees something similar to her
The moment those leading footsteps by Deacon guide the trio into the woods and crossing those thresholds, the stench of that rot and death only worsen, and the darkness hiding amongst the trees seem to envelop and thicken. There is no silence that hide within these woods once one is inside - soft rustling of wind and tree branches and leaves are ever present, and a trick of the mind threatens to have one believe they're whispering... unintelligible and constant. That thickness of dark magic that someone and Deacon can see is imperceptible for poor Jett as clearly as it is for the others, but the thick darkness seems to wisp about like a slowly enveloping fog. It carries with it the sense of being watched.
The moment those leading footsteps by Deacon guide the trio into the woods and crossing those thresholds, the stench of that rot and death only worsen, and the darkness hiding amongst the trees seem to envelop and thicken. There is no silence that hide within these woods once one is inside - soft rustling of wind and tree branches and leaves are ever present, and a trick of the mind threatens to have one believe they're whispering... unintelligible and constant. That thickness of dark magic that Evelynn and Deacon can see is imperceptible for poor Jett as clearly as it is for the others, but the thick darkness seems to wisp about like a slowly enveloping fog. It carries with it the sense of being watched.
Struggling to see is Jett's first issue as they delve deeper into the woods. A headlamp dangles off his bag from a strap, but he doesn't reach for it just yet. There is a small nod from Jett when Deacon makes note of the peculiar environment, and when Evelynn mentions magic being involved, there is a dull him from the teen. ".. Alright. I'm sure he has something prepared for us, or else they wouldn't bother putting a bounty on him," he assumes quietly, beneath the whispering of nature around him. His eyes aim downwards, trying to pay mind to the footsteps of his allies in this moment as they tread towards danger.
That can only bring an easy nod from Deacon as he speaks quietly. "Last time he used animals like scouts ... he knows we're here. And if he's got the same demeanor .. I don't think he's gonna run from us." He speaks plainly, not disrespecting their own sets of skills or his own, but speaking honestly about their situation. "And I don't think he's entirely wrong" he mutters even as that imperious silence and oppressive fog starts creeping in. With a clench of his fist, Deacon gestures for Jett and Evelynn to close in ranks. Not quite shuffling at back-to-back-to-back triangle of movement, he still effects a tight-knit formation for the time being. He doesn't let them fall to a stand still, keeping them moving toward where that flock of birds were spotted, further inward into the deeper woods south of Mariner's now. "He stole data" he offers toward Jett.
"Originally it was more the principle of the thing, I think yoou know? We can't have rats jumping ship" Deacon adds, each slow step met with his head on the swivel. "But when we came at him before, they didn't tell us he was a fuckin' sorcerer. "
"We don't have many arcanist, shame to lose one." Evelynn decides, sounding unbothered over-all despite her words. She tightens up formation with Deacon and Jett, revealing a veteran of possibly a century of battles, she knows how to move. She watches high in the trees once animal spies are mentioned to look for the reflections of light in the eyes of owls, rats and other nocturnal creatures like herself.
The snapping crunch of some branch broken on the ground resounds nearby - closer than what anyone would feel overtly comfortable with. The repeat, again, and again, and get closer each time as though something were approaching. The darkness of this supernatural kind of fog continues to wisp about, blinding all of only the closest things to them, save for Evelynn and Deacon, whose eyes are able to better pierce through. The foliage to the south, still directly ahead of the three rustle a bit louder now, as something -or someone- threatens to step through. How close it might get before it's or they is visible to everyone is to be seen.
Jett's lips press into a firm line, and with Deacon's guidance, he tightens up the formation. ".. Can't say I'm experienced fighting sorcerers," he begins but the words are cut short by the sound of snapping twigs hidden in the mist. His bow raises, taking aim at the unseen but not yet firing. The rustling demands his attention to swivel, yet his careful not to stray from Deacon and Evelynn - his actions held at bay with his eyesight not providing him the clear to fire just yet.
There's not much for it now, here in Deacon's mind. Surprise is something they'd lost a week before, and the fact that this man is still out here suggests something is still holding him here. Nothing to do .. but advance. "Forward" Deacon calls quietly and he hefts up that shield that he's got strapped to his arm looking like something out a cosplay convention if not for the very real gleam to the edge of his weapon, or the metal of his rifle. When the crack and crackle comes, Deacon pauses his motion entire, a hand coming up quick with a tightly clenched fist in that silent call for a halt. "Let's just say magic doesn't care if you're wearing a kevlar vest that's for damn sure" he grunts in Jett's direction as his eyes scan for any sense of what approaches now. "But we'll see if the iron and sttel in this thing helps do the trick." Deacon doesn't sound entirely convinced but there it is. He frowns, thinking about the last time he'd run afoul of this guy and he grows silent for a moment.
Evelynn lifts her free hand with the dark tendrils of magic swirling around her fingertips, much like the fog that surrounds the party. She's prepared to use magic against magic but for now she just wields it like a loaded gun while the sword at her other hand is adjusted to be held in front to ward a blow away. She stays silent, especially when Deacon signals to halt.
Both Deacon and Evelynn, their eyes darted to the source of the noise, would be more able to see what is approaching as it steps through. For Jett, it's only the smell of it that will offer his imagination a visual. Death and Rancid Rot fill the air the moment there is no foliage about to absorb the scent of what stalks closer. Exposed first are Antlers. Or rather, Antler. It's connected to a stag that steps through, but it looks like it has been long, long dead. Its eyes are milky and empty of life and color. Or... rather, it's eye, singular. Where the other would be is a instead a caved in part of a skull that explains also why it features only one antler. A gash is on its neck and underbelly, causing entrails to drag on the ground when it moves. Void of life in its eye and yet, it still seems alert. It looks first to Evelynn, despite her not being the one leading the charge and it tilts its head back enough to do so. Then, dead eye flicks over to Jett, whom the boy wouldn't be able to clearly see. And then, to Deacon. It stares. And it stares for a long time, and then... it grunts, and barks, and bleats, and there's a yowl that leaves its lips - loud, like a siren or a dying cat. It doesn't feel like it would be a sound appropriate for it.
As soon as the thing comes into sight, Deacon recognizes it. "Huh. Same carcass ..." he says to Evelynn before raising up his rifle as if to point at the thing. He hesitates, he knows he shouldn't but when it makes that familiar sound he winces and then quickly looks to cut the distance between himself and the dead animal. What worked before might work again, at least temporarily? And Deacon slips from sight to re-appear right next to the thing as his blade flashes through the dessicated flesh of the deer's neck trying to cut off that sound before it can carry too far. "Shit" he curses, unable to prevent it entirely of course.
"Abomination." Evelynn says in a hushed raspy voice. The spell she held in her hand dissipates as though she was essentially holstering it, perhaps its not the right tool for this job. The sword raises a fraction as it could be of use against such a creature if it proves hostile which is likely. Its Deacon who moves first, pathing in close to strike, she hangs back to see the effects of his attack and keep an eye to see if it was bait all along.
The song the unknown stench of death sings within the mist must be unpleasant for Jett - as soon as it leaves the rotten he is pulling the string of his bow taut. That is, until Deacon disappears the the magic disperses from Evelynn without her following suit. He stays his shot then, aiming the bow down as to not accidentally shoot the pathing soldier. ".. The fuck was that?" he wonders in a whisper.
"It won't stay down" Deacon will breathe, assuming he does put the thing down as he whirls about now, hoilding up his shield at the ready.
Deacon's blade to this death Stag drops the beast, but it fails to fully silence it. The blade to its neck influencing that bleat to reverberate like a low pained groan that won't stop... like a low flatline. It's not loud enough to prevent them from speaking over it - Jett's question is heard easily enough in the darkness, but it seems as far as this stag is related, what is dead will not stay dead. That eye, even with its body on the ground, is staring at the group.
"I do not have something with which to burn it with." Evelynn informs Deacon as she approaches his position. She points her blade towards the 'dead' creature in case it starts to rouse right away. "We should go for the necromancer fast to put an end to this." she faintly scowls as she looks upon the distantly related 'undead' "I hate this sort of magic."
Jett treads closer in step with Evelynn, trying to peer at the creature of disgust where it wails. "I have a lighter and some liquor, but starting a fire in the woods might not --" he begins to say before his attention whips to the side rather abruptly. His eyes peer empty and dull into the mist, as if he had given up on trying to peer beyond it. ".. Everything got quiet," he points out the sudden silence of the whispering of the woods once it had dawned on him.
The Stag's nose twitches as Evelynn draws closer, and perhaps that blade was enough to silence it despite it not penetrating. Dead eye turns to look at her, head tilting her direction as that bleating siren of a noise stops, rather abruptly. Its nose continues to twitch, like trying to scent her, before it's slowly beginning to clamber up to its feet as Jett announces the silence in the forest that he noticed.
"Me too" Deacon says before reaching into the holster that sits at his hip. "I don't have fire ... but I have this." He holds up a simple item: A fragmentation grenade with an older pineapple-style design. "Which won't leave enough to put back together?" He's agreeing with the sentiment from Evelynn then before answering Jett as he tries to steady himself. "Fine we'll do it the hard way" he mutters. "I think .. it's like a warning system for the man. Or .. something more even. This isn't a deer like the one I saw last week. It's the same carcass." He points at the eyeball staring at them with a grimace of distaste. Then he's standing up to his full height and stepping a pace or two away from the other two. "We'll see if he reveals" he says low before taking his sabre and rattling it against the front of his shield loudly, now. (Heh, sabre-rattling) "Right then, fuck! Round two, shit-heel!"
It's a strange sight, the modern soldier kind of revealing that inner nature of Deacon's bloodline in some fashion, out here now challening their unknown enemy in almost chivalrous manner, in the ways of old. Still though, he's definitely drawing the attention to himself, in the hopes that the enemy will reveal itself enough for Jett and Evelynn to act.
When Jett points out the silence, it becomes evident to Evelynn and Deacon. Those earlier sounds of the forest - the wind that rustles the branches of the trees and foliage that scratches against another like whispering is indeed quiet. There's an eerie awareness to it, like something in that silence was aware of the group which most certainly is aware of it. It doesn't have time though to thicken in its influence of unease before Deacon is rounding his sabre against his shield, breaking that silence with metal on metal like a beacon in silence to pinpoint exactly where they are. The Stag continues to rise to its feet, moving a bit quicker now as though startled by that noise from Deacon, and unless stopped it tries to depart deeper into the woods.
Deacon says "Drop that fuckin' thing!"
The command barked by Deacon sets Jett off. The tension had drawn his nerves taut, ready to snap and despite the danger he lunges at the stag trying to struggle to its feet. His free hand pulls his knife and he is aiming a stab towards the remaining eye peering at them - careful of that remaining antler.
Evelynn falls into a battle stance and raise her broadsword when Deacon orders the attack. Her features tighten with immense focus and strain and then she swings that broadsword. But not towards the dead animal, instead she aims straight for Deacon from his flank, looking to cripple him in one surprise attack. She says nothing to indicate why she's betraying him
With Jett chasing after that Stag in the darkness, the Stag tries to evade in such a way that would beckon to separate Jett from the group. He leaves behind only Evelynn and Deacon, the latter of who is busying himself with creating a terrible noise that breaks the silence by way of metal on metal. Almost immediately after Jett darts, the darkness of the forest thickens around him, behind him, as if trying to obfuscate an eyeline that would allow anyone to see him clearly enough to give chase if anything adverse were to happen. The rustling of the treetops further southbound are hard to hear over the challenging taunt that Deacon levies. Something silently approaches in what is son to be an eruption of chaos.
He's fast, but he's not fast enough. Deacon doesn't turn quite in time to catch the surprise attack coming in from behind at the hands of Evelynn. Sword bites into the back of his leg, above the crook of his knee not right on point but enough to do the deed. There's a sudden hiss at the smell of fresh blood blossoms; soaking through the back of his tactical gear swiftly as he drops. "Fuck!" There's another shout, as the man has to drop to a knee before he can react in any real fashion. It stops his rattling but he has to contend with something much closer to himself now. "Fuckin' ..." he eyes Evelynn warily now, hamstrung he can only shift himself with that board up in front of him for defense and his blade ot keep her longer reach at bay. "H-he's stronger n' I thought. Or you're weaker" he says roughly.
The blade of Jett's knife swipes through air, missing the more dexterous beast as it runs deeper into the shade of magic enveloping the area. "Fuck," he hisses not taking note of the gloom that encompasses the area around him in his hunt for the stag. His heavy footsteps pound against the ground until he stops abruptly and tries to raise his bow to shoot off an arrow at the undead abomination before he loses sight completely.
And so it goes, Deacon now forced to fight his own ally in Evelynn as Jett is cut off from them by the darkening fog - Even best-laid plans only carry as far as the flight of the first arrow, and this wasn't even that. Trouble for them all now.
Evelynn struggles with her entire body, but specifically her sword arm shakes as she tries to regain control of herself. "Disable me if you have to." she hisses in irritation at her situation. But then she suddenly releases from whatever was holding her. It's like a held breath is deeply drawn as she recoils from Deacon and pulls back from Deacon to be out of range of a second attack, "I'm a liability against this target."
Jett finds himself separated from the group in a darkness that he cannot see through, and both Deacon and Eve distracted with eachother enough that the rustling of something approaching has gone unnoticed, even moreso when it stopped. Jett fires off, though, his arrow into the darkness. It wizzes through, but never seems to connect with anything despite the forest being dense.
"But you're who we got and I can't take him myself" Deacon says in a hiss, but a thankful one as Evelynn is breaking off now. "Shit .. you fuckin' .." He plants his saber into the ground to push himself to his feet slowly, having to HEAVILY favor his off leg for now. "If it comes to it" he says at last eyes turning around to try and find Jett now, without success. It's only the sound of an arrow cutting through the air with that low whistle that brings Deacon's attention back to the front of the situation. "We have to find him. How do we find him?" He states to Evelynn for a moment then, pressing her for whatever information he can think to ask for. "Carson! Report back!"
"I dont know how to find him. But we need to follow Jett." Evelynn tells Deacon with a hint of urgency in her voice. She begins to run in the direction that Jett left, spending no time checking on Deacon to see if she seriously wounded him in anyway.
"God da-," Jett begins to growl out his bitterness at his own failures - until the words are caught in his throat and silenced. There is a short noise of pain that coughs out of the delinquent before he's launched from his feet and into the snow with a tumbling thud. His bow falls into the snow and debris of the forest floor as his attention darts around in search of someone. ".. Guys!" he shouts out into the gloom, removing his hand from his chest to check for signs of blood.
Whatever knocked Jett off of his feet sent him much further than he'd realize, and he's crashing in front of an Evelynn who had darted off to search for him. Deacon is the one left behind for now, but things are close enough to him that he would be able to hear what is going on. Before Evelynn and Jett both land in a surge of dark energy, a male - pale skin, pale eyes, brown hair. He looks emaciated, but at the same time alert and spry, as if boundless with energy. The eyes that Jett darts with as he calls for aid would see him clearly, and the energy that sounds this man's hands, tendrils of dark sorcerous magic, safely reveal that this is indeed the Godling they're searching for. He doesn't say anything - feeling little threat as he looks down at Jett and the approaching Evelynn.
The Cajun can't argue with that and he won't move as fast as Evelynn right now but he'll push himself forward. Oblivious to whatever has approached them out here, he does see the wisdom in trying to re-group with their comrade and he just tries to keep himself fast enough right now to keep Evelynn in sight so that she too doesn't get too lost in the darkness as well. If he spies that Godling, he may pause given the distraction of his two comrades might actually provide him with a small amount of surprise. Stealth isn't his forte anymore much, but Deacon hasn't lost all of his touch.
Evelynn lifts her free hand and the dark swirl returns, just as she prepared before. She flicks her wrist towards the man as soon as she discovers him to send a magical attack towards him in an effort to try to blind him temporarily. "Deacon." she calls, with a sense of urgency to help him marco-polo his ways towards the pair. "Attack, don't let up." she hisses to Jett
Close-ranged doesn't seem all that appealing to Jett, especially with the manner at which he's looked at. Unthreatened is the bounty as he peers this way. Evelynn's hiss gathers him out of the chaos of his mind, and he scrambles around in search for his bow on the ground in hopes to gather himself and begin the assault.
"/This/ is what The Hand sends to me?" This man asks, voice croaking in the darkness. He's looking down at Jett, like what his next decision to do to the boy is a genuine tragedy. A sphere of dark energy pools in his palm as he looks to him, lethal intent in his eyes. "A child." He pauses only for a moment before rearing his arm back to strike him, but Evelynn's blinding may have very well spared Jett's life. The burst of pain that blinds him causes his blast of energy to fly wide, going northbound and narrowly missing Deacon as he approaches to reconnect with his comrades. He hisses, as if annoyed, but doesn't move as though a threat is perceived. "Get closer." He dares, blood-shot eyes preventing him from seeing anything but the closet targets. It's unclear of who he may be speaking to, but something rustles in the foliage as he starts to whisper.
Pushing himself forward, Deacon doesn't waste time or hesitate when Evelynn's words come reaching out. He's shifting to a full on run despite the pain pushing himself to brink of letting his leg give out on him! He tries to move with Stealth but he has to push for full on run as he tries to make the Godling from behind. Aiming that Damascus blade to the left side of his back, just left of the spine and toward the middle region of the ribs where the heart should be. He puts everything he can into that, calling out with a shout of his own, "Find me, on the Sea .." he breathes and a rush of energy courses through him. Perhaps enough to get the job done, perhaps enough to stop his leg from buckling before he can close that distance.
After casting her blinding magic Evelynn stays away from Jett and doesn't rush towards the necromancer as Deacon attacks. She is aware she could be used as a weapon against anyone near her and so she chooses to not be near anyone if there is a chance she wont be needed to swing a sword in the end.
Despite this not being Jett's first time on a battlefield, the potency in power displayed by the sorcerer has rattled the teen. When the blast flies beyond him, just nearly impacting, a shiver racks over his spine and limbs. Not that it stops him from beginning to fire off arrows towards the defector. The mundane ammunition probably striking more frequently into the ground than the intended target. He does the opposite of draw closer, carefully having his feet carry him away while staying within eye sight to the best of his ability.
A strike to this Godling's back, to the heart, would be a safe bet of dropping him quickly. But Deacon's blade never finds him. This forest reeks of the dead, and to a Necromancer, it is his playground. That rustling from the foliage as he whispers becomes louder and louder, before that carcass of a Stag can be seen darting out. Its actions would have been a moment too late if Deacon did not announce himself with that shout of his ow. A singular Antler collides at Deacon's side as he goes for his maker, and the impact sends the Stag and Deacon tumbling off to the side as that assassination attempt goes thwarted. The Godling begins to rub at his blood-shot eyes, easing the pain from himself as he beckons his vision back. "...A toy for me to play with," he says, spitting out with those venomous words as if finishing some sentence from earlier. "And a reckless soldier. This is what The Hand has to offer?" The arrows that fire from Jett whiz past him since they're blindly shot, but one gets too close for comfort and ends up scratching at his cheek. "Enough!" He calls out, sending a blast of energy towards Jett that misses as his eyesight is only somewhat returning, whizzing past Evelynn instead.
seeing Deacon's failure and Jett is attacking from range. Evelynn moves to attack directly. She dips just enough to avoid the errant blast then she's headed to charge right for the godling to do just what Deacon attempted except from the front. Run him through with the tip of her sword. There is no battle cry from her, she's not even broken a sweat from all the activities tonight nor does she breath heavy..or at all.
A grunt, and the weight barrelled into him causes him to shove off the side and his attempt is thwarted! Tumbling rolling, at least Deacon is full of renewed vigor and energy. Rolling to his feet he tries again, but this time he's moving to run in tandem with Evelynn. He steps in front of her and tries to put himself and his shield between her and the Sorcerer and he's taking his cue from the vampiress, now. When she goes in for the strike, he'll try to accentuate it with one of his own. It's for the man's head he swipes for, or his feet with grim determination. Reckless is a fact, though. Deacon will shove himself into the way of danger without thinking about it twice if he thinks it will gain them the edge that they need. "Carson! Call it in, get backup out here! Don't lay off!"
It's two contradictory orders of course, from Deacon. Use the radio - don't stop shooting! But use the radio.
Jett finds himself lucky when Godling misses his next shot. He weaves away from the trail, but the shadow of the stag duffing Deacon has him wince. Out here in the woods, calling for backup might be difficult. It is his phone he reaches for, but instead of hopping onto the static of the radio, he sets off an S.O.S to the rest of the Chapter on the device. "I can't see shit!" he barks out as he holds his fire when both of his allies cut the distance short between them and their objective.
Evelynn's charge is effective, until the sound of Deacon clambering to his feet and charging in front of her is picked up by the Godling's ears. His head is turning towards that direction, the heavy thudding of footsteps and shield and Deacon's yelling for Jett to keep firing blindly in the direction of all three of them, alerting the Godling of where this next attempt is coming from. Golden eyes turn towards them, eyesight recovered enough to see them in the darkness he manufactured. It's fortunate though that Jett is holding his fire for now. A burst of dark, necrotic energy is sent forth from the Necromancers fingertips directly ahead of him where Deacon and Evelynn are charging. It's a blast enough that would strike the shield and stumble Deacon into the Evelynn he stands in front of, before the Necromancer is taking a supernatural leap into the treetops to regain his composure in the darkness.
Evelynn makes a noise of displeasure when Deacon is blasted back into her. There is annoyance in it but she's too determined to say anything and she's in hot pursuit of the godling. She drops into a brief squat to store energy in her legs then she leaps supernaturally into the air to try and follow the necromancer into the same tree.
The shot seems almost to be what Deacon's waiting for though, and while it's a risk and he knows it he'll try to plant his feet and drop to a knee, slamming the shield into the ground to try and take the brunt of that blow without the need to stumble. But he won't get the thing planted in time, and the force of the blow will send him flying backward in a tumble across the ground that's full of muffled grunts and curses in French as he gets flung back into the darkness.
The S.O.S sent by Jett is responded to, and the alert that returns - to the phones of Haven chapter-wide, suggest a 'disposable' team is being dispatched. The Necromancer finds himself in the trees, alone only for a moment before Evelynn is meeting him there. He watches her approach and her landing, the tree shared by the both of them. "...I'm going to make you eat your friends." He threatens to her, his own body tensing as tendrils of dark sorcery begin to dance around his fingers.
"I don't have friends." Evelynn is keen to say, for some reason its important for her to clarify that point given the circumstances. Both the necromancer and her balance on the branches in the tree and she earns a faint scowl and straight when she senses his magic attempt to take hold. She whispers something and imperceptibly in the dark her shadow detaches from her, a shadow version of her, blade and all glides along the branch and aims to sink its shadow blade into the necromancer at center mass.
There is an affirmative chirp of his device from the response. Instead of shouting out that information, though, he keeps it locked tight, perhaps biding time in hopes the Godling would delay a potential retreat. Then again, retreating may not be on his agenda either. Jett tries to slip closer to where the trees rustle, eyes aimed upward in that mist to try and scout which figure is not-friend or foe.
Up in the trees now, it at least gives Deacon time to recover. Further back off, Deacon is coughing and grunting softly as he tries to disentangle himself from the shield that's kept him alive but done as much damage as it has helped him in this case. Reaching groggily for the rifle strapped around his back to bring it around to the front, the man tries to slow his breathing to something more normal and he tries to put his eye to the scope and start scanning the tree-line toward the general direction of Evelynn's leap and the words that come from up above. He doesn't move or take a shot yet, just trying to find a moment of calm, where he can find the right sight. It seems that Jett is keeping things more quiet now too, at least Deacon has finally keyed in to the Godling's far advanced sense of his surroundings.
"Shame." He says in reply to Evelynn's words. "I do." He decides to reply with, lips curling into a grin as he speaks loud enough for Evelynn, Jett, and Deacon to hear. "I have eyes all over this forest. On every side of my head." He says to Evelynn, a bit pointedly as she whispers. "I can silence you with a thought, puppet." He says. It seems for now, though, he may not be aware of the shadow that Evelynn has summoned that forms and blends into the darkness. Down below, however, that Stag is making its way over towards Deacon - he may mistake those steps for Jett's, but an antler is prodding shoving into him to refocus his gaze away from the tree tops. Jett might not be able to ascertain visually which target is friend or foe, but the necromancer speaking is the only indication of where his aim needs to go. "You don't even know why they sent you after me." He says to Evelynn, just as her shadow minion circles behind him and seems geared to strike on her command. "Think about it. I control the dead... and they send /you/ to me, with a child and a soldier well past his prime."
Evelynn spreads her arms out in a gesture that suggest to the necromancer she wants him to try to enchant her again, "We are expendable." she explains as to why they were sent. There is no shame in this in her words and when she's finished the last syllable, the shadow assassin strikes for the heart with it's very tangible shadow blade while the necromancer is busy taunting her and the others..
Words that come to taunt Deacon have their desired effect on the man, there's no question. Standing, There's a swift motion as Deacon whips the butt of his rifle at the incoming dead antler, hoofs are too quiet to be Jett and the soldier wastes no time trying to crack the thing across the skull and shatter what's left of the animal's face and brain-pan. It's a perhipheral action though, because all of his anger and intent are on that God Sorcerer up there, now. "Past my prime, you little .." he murmurs under his breath, no doubt giving the man warning. The loud REPORT of his rifle comes echoing out into the woods as he zeros in his aim on the Godling and fires. And then again, the quick-pace racking of the bolt slide coming like practiced oil-slick movement for the man at least. Fire. Fire. Fire. Three, four rounds each followed by that heavy KA_CHINK of the slide come booming out. Maybe they'll distract this man at the right time, maybe they'll hit hiim but mostly Deacon seems to incensed to do much more than try to empty his clip at him impotently.
Maybe sound is good enough for Jett. Especially with Evelynn speaking up next. He lines up a shot for the suspected target and nocks back his next shot to let loose from where he is on the forest floor.
As Evelynn gestures for him to enchant her again, he doesn't. Instead, he's rising up and scooting closer towards Evelynn as she finishes speaking. "You are. But I don't intend--" And then a bullet fires off from Deacon. Several fire off. One strikes the minion behind him as it misses him, sending it off balace to fall to the ground. The other grazes at his shoulder, and soon he's responding with a blast of dark, nectrotic, sorcerous energy down below to strike at Deacon. The high ground advantage would ensure his blast doesn't miss. Evelynn goes dismissed for now as the Sorcerer tends to trying not to be shot, but it seems he's fully forgotten about Jett, the boy dismissed as a blind, non-threat that he wasn't even considered. The arrow strikes true, right in the neck that sends out a gurgle from his throat before he's falling from the branches to the ground below.
There's no banking it. There's no way for Deacon to get the shield out, he's left it on the ground seveal paces behind. He just keeps firing, until that roiling ball of energy comes careening toward him to hit him in the chest, full force. He's flung back paces and paces again to be slammed into the bole of a tree with a loud -crunch- before he falls to ground to thud into the underbrush.
Evelynn's shadow dissipates when its struck, the incorporeal form is not able to handle receiving damage. The vampire is about to pounce frontally when he's finally struck in the neck and topples out of the tree thanks to Jett. She takes a pause to process this new development then she drops out of the tree to land beside the necromancer and check on whether the blow was fatal. Her concern is with the neutralization of the necromancer and not whether Deacon is alright.
Jett hit something, the familiar sound of a fleshy thunk and the subsequent gurgle has him perk up. He pushes forward as quietly as he can, not calling out for a confirmation on the hit just yet but hoping to get a visual of who has joined him on the ground.
Making the smart move, Evelynn is checking on the threat, and there's a faint groan coming from the heap of hurt that's on the ground some paces away, now. Sign of life at least, if not a pleasant one right now for Deacon.
Evelynn lands next to the necromancer, and he's gurgling from the neck, as if beginning to drown on his own blood. A lucky blind shot from Jett, struck him in the neck, in the darkness. When Evelynn drops before him, his pale, golden eyes regard her with hatred. If he has any proclivity for regeneration, it is not enough to spare his life. His blow was fatal, and unless something extraordinary happens, he will die. There is no medical equipment for him in the forest. He spits something out, though, unintelligible, as he looks to Evelynn like she were the last opportunity he'd have for vengeance.
Evelynn smells the blood on the air and stares at the necromancer with a great urge, she shows her fangs and what she intends and she's moments away from descending on the wounded meal but then her eyes snap to Jett and that ferocious hunger is set on him. She leaps towards him, dropping her sword before she's even left the ground and as she lands in front of him she tries to put both hands on his throat and squeeze if he doesn't defend himself.
Soft groans continue to eminate from the pile over there in the woods, but Deacon does seem like he's going to live. Oblivious however to any potential for lasting dangers the only thing he can do is try to bring himself to a point of awareness and consciousness or drag himself together. He'll be of no help to Jett right now.
As Jett draws closer to the scene of his lucky execution, he begins to exhale a relieved sigh. One that hitches in his throat as his ally leaps forth to wrap her digits around his throat. His eyes widen in confusion and shock, but in that moment, he thrashes to shove at Evelynn and try to break free of her clutches to reel back and away.
Evelynn struggles against Jett, trying to fight the control against her but also fight Jett to strangle him with just her bare hands. Her usually lifeless eyes are full of bloodlust now and she chokes out the words, "Fight back."
The necromancers head turns to watch Evelynn assault Jett, his influence held with his dying breath as he seeks blood other than his own. He's writhing on the ground, continuing to whisper out commands in a way that spit out more of his blood into his lungs as he suffocates.
Shaky .. it's shaky feet that sees Deacon finally picking himself up. That rifle is almost a crutch, hobbling forward with ragged breath that's shallow in lungs that are almost certainy pressed in upon by cracked ribs. A pistol is in the man's hand but even from this distance, he seems confident in his aim ... It's not at Evelynn though that he's firing it's at that body down on the ground still dying and spitting out blood-flecked death rattle. A round. Two. Without the ability to dodge, he hopes that those rounds will aim true at last trying to break that lasting connection he may have over the Vampire.
"I'm.. trying!" Jett growls out as he shoves at Evelynn but eventually reels back an arm and swings a closed fist towards the woman's face. There is life in his features, the grit of his teeth and the wild look of anger and struggle caught in his usually dull gaze. That is when he hears the hushed commands of the waning Godling, and he tries to create space between Evelynn and himself to throw a thin knife towards the necromancers face.
Evelynn takes the punch in the face, there is a crunch to her nose as it breaks but there is minimal pain shown on her face but her head does cock back and she loses her grip on Jett's throat but is still grabbing for the fabric of his jacket to try to desperately keep him close and keep up the assault as directed by the necromancer.
The thrown knife that Jett sends flies wide due to Evelynn's continued assault as she follows a command not of her own. But the bullet that Deacon sends strikes the Sorcerer in the side. The pain causes his connection over Evelynn to break, like strings cut from a marionette that would see her limbs drop as her autonomy returns. The Sorcerer groans out from the pain in sounds influenced by the wetness of his blood, and then... silence. He goes limp on the ground.
It's more shaky steps forward, blood from a laceration across his forehead draining down Deacon's face as he shuffles forward again and into the sight of Evelynn and Jett now maybe. He's still holding the pistol in an unsteady hand, waiting with bated breath while that lasting silence seems to stretch It's then and only then that the man slowly tries to re-holster his sidearm which takes him a few tries to get the trajectory right in his state.
Evelynn finds herself back in control of her own body and she steps back from Jett, blood oozes from her nostrils but only in small amounts as there is no pulse in her to push it out with any force. She looks towards the now dead necromancer to ensure with her own eyes and senses that he's perished then she comments, "That was..messy."
The knife sticks into the ground missing by a long shot when he sways and nearly stumbles at the behest of Evelynn's tangled grasp on his jacket. ".. Let. Go.." Jett struggles out, but when her limbs drop, he sends his momentum sprawling backwards, falling on his ass. He remains on edge, hands balled into tight fists as he's on the ground peering up at Evelynn as if unsure if the fight was over just yet. His labored breathing escapes in misty puffs, thanks to the chill in the air. When she speaks and Deacon is holstering his gone the teen eases out and lays limp back into the soil, clearly trying to catch his breath. "Fuckin' christ. That was nuts," he exhales with a hitch.
The darkness that envelopes this forest begin to dissipate - less supernatural now and more of the standard variety for Haven. It is still dark, but there is a clarity that everyone's eyes would be able to peer through, Jett's normal ones especially. It's easier to manage, and when it dissipates fully, bodies can be seen littering the area. All kinds of animals, from stags to manticores, to birds. Likely not summoned due to the Necromancer's hubris. There are humans as well, and some of them bear the symbol of other Hand members who likely tried to bring him in and never returned. This section of the forest was his own personal graveyard.
"Good punch." Evelynn tells Jett as she reaches to cup her nose between thumb and finger and sharply set it back into place with a subtle flinch of pain. Once that is taken care of she moves to pick up her broadsword and she looks towards Deacon who took the most beating from her and the necromancer, "Will you recover?" she ask.
"Th .that . yeah" Deacon says wearily, teetering forward through the Killing Field that they find themself in, here. "But done" he says, and he's wincing his breath labored as he stumbles forth now all but leaning his entire weight in the length of his rifle. "I .. she should've had him, more than once" he coughs, turning his gaze aside so he doesn't have to look at the blood in his spittle. He slumps down by the body, now. Lifeless they seem far less threatening ... but it won't stop Deacon from giving the soft click of his switchblade. He proceeds to start cutting out the man's golden-hued eyeballs. "I'll live" he replies to Evelynn hoarsely, amid his gristly task.
A blade goes to his eye, and there is no resistance that occurs as that proof of death is acquired.
".. Yeah, sorry about that," Jett offers when Evelynn compliments his punching abilities. Once he's caught his breath and begins to take in the field of the dead he is pulling himself back up to his feet. He looks over to Deacon an unspoken question cast his way that Evelynn speaks first and when the soldier hoarsely replies he gives a satisfied nod of his head. ".. Way to take a beating out there, Sarge."
"I would say we are done with this then." Evelynn says, her statement more of a question as she looks to Deacon to confirm this to be true.
Finally, the man will stand up or at least back up to a knee. Deacon retrieves those eyes and then puts them into a plastic baggie, gruesome and bloody as it is. Then he's snapping a picture of the man's dead corpse with his phone as well, because all paperwork is done in triplicate in the Government. He blinks before slowly turning back to nod at Jett and face him and Evelynn. "I think .. I'm lucky that way." He lifts his chin wearily; a little ways off in the woods - what remains of that hunk of metal shield he'd brought into the fight. The beatings, the blasts - the thing looks the door of a Pruis after being struck by a Buick.
Deacon nods at Evelynn slowly, "I think so" he manages. "Whatever he's done with what he stole .. can't be helped. But at least this one can be filed under voluntary termination, non?"
A serenity begins to set on the area now, the supernatural influence that was rotting this place fading. There are a lot of bodies that will need cleaning, but that's a problem for anyone not these three. There would be nothing to stop them from leaving, and on the road would be the backup that Jett called that naturally arrived much, much too late to be useful.
"If we did not kill him, I would've killed you both then been enslaved to a new master." Evelynn says as a fact. She looks to the corpse one more time before she says, "Good evening then." as if they just finished a casual dinner date.
A moment later the woman steps out of reality to be swept back to wherever her shadow walk is set to take her.
It's to those poor saps that Deacon will be happy to delegate the cleanup to, as well. "Back there's the mess fellas" Deacon says with a wear smirk when the trio manages their way back out toward their place on the Highway. At least, it's toward his own vehicle that Deacon will make for - the others may go their own way!
"Think I can bum a ride off you on the way back to my car," Jett asks of Deacon after casually nodding along to Evelynn's matter of fact statement. He believes it and does nothing to protest the claim.
OOC: Thank you guys for partaking in this plot! I may have a few others relating to this in the future, but either way, I hope you enjoyed and thank you for spending the evening with me. If I have enough awards to grant to everyone I will, otherwise expect an I.O.U. Stalk up with your preferred summoned locations!
At the very least, Deacon will offer Jett the ride even as he's opening his mouth Jett is asking and Deacon just grin, "Absolutely."