RP Log - Finding a hermit is never easy. Part One.

[zane_r2a]

--[ Icemane Lands Weirmonken ]------------------------------[ Weirmonken ]----

The map Faelin has isn't the most detailed guide to be following for those who don't know the Icemane territory. Those who have traveled through the region may recognize the river that gauges through a third of it. That will have to be the starting point for them to navigate their way through to and then from. Their travel to that starting point has taken some time but as the sun struggles to break through cloud cover above, light reflecting up from the snowunderfoot, those with sharper eyes than others will catch sight of territory markers. They have now crossed over into Icemane lands and thus far, not been disturbed.

Niklas trudges through the snow with a thick, white, furry cloak wrapped about his shoulders and his body to conceal the leather armor and weapons beneath. "I ain't never been here before... you know where we're goin'?"

Faelin comes to a stop, looking around. She shifts her pack higher on her back, cloak over jacket and both drawn tight. "I hate snow." She mutters. She looks to Niklas and takes out the map. She looks at it and then points, "That look like the right way to you?" The map is thrust at Nik for comparison.

Niklas looks down at the map, up at the terrain, the map, the terrain. "Seems to be... I think. Remind me when we get home to take all of Zane's underwear, soak it in water and freeze it.... preferably while he's in it."

"I'll gather it up for you," Faelin mutters. She exhales and raises her chin, scenting the air.

There's the smell of something burning, faint in the air and it carries on the wind to the pair as they regard the map. Streaking through the air, something blazes bright orange before thumping into a large tree. Hanging from the fletching of the arrow that begins to sputter is leather cord, something bound and white dangling from it.

Niklas's hand slides under his cloak, surely to grab a weapon, when the arrow slams into the tree. He seems suddenly tensed, "What's that?"

"What the-?!" Faelin murmurs. She glances to Nik, "Zane sends messages sometimes like this, but..." She scans the horizon.

"You'd be best served to wear those," calls a voice from the treetops, "They mark you as friends to those who are true." A lone misfit waves, not hiding himself any longer, appearing on a high branch overhead. Roman grins down at the pair, "If you come across anyone else, I'd suggest you run though rather than shown them your pretty new necklaces."

Niklas nods to Faelin. "Stay back," he orders, ever the overprotective Argus. Boots crunch in the snow. When Roman's voice sounds he freezes and looks up, eyes narrowed, "Roman?"

"You expected Kazimir's mother?" Roman chuckles, "You don't look so big from up here, Niklas. Zane sent me to wait for you in case you needed a guide." He rubs at one arm, pretending to shiver, "Had I known you two would be so slow, I'd have built a hut."

Niklas smirks in an amused way, "I was sort of hoping for your mother, really. Her butt's a lot nice to walk behind than yours." He glances back to the arrow, "Get your butt down here and lets get going. It's colder than a witches titty in a brass bra out here."

Roman slings his bow across his back and takes the express route down to the ground, swinging from one branch to the next. The last branch includes an exagerated swing through, complete with full flip and twist before he lands and executes a formal bow. "Greetings oh weary travellers. Welcome to the lands of the Icemanes. Prepare to tremble at the majesty you will bear witness to and know that you will be struck dumb with awe." Roman points to the arrow in the tree, "You'd better grab those, just in case."

Niklas snatches the arrow from the tree and turns to face Roman. "You're as bad as your brother," he says with a shake of his head.

Roman hmms, "A bit much? Works with the women..." The younger Weir winks in Faelin's direction but grows serious for a minute or two. "Zane would be here." He leaves it at that, not bothering with explanations. "Like I said, those charms are recognized by my clanmates but these days, Icemanes aren't the only wolves running in packs throughout these lands."

Niklas tilts his head toward Roman, "Who else is running in packs?"

Roman shivers again, this time for real. "I can't say for sure, they don't seem all that inclined to sit and sip tea, Niklas. Dark wolves."

Niklas growls low and deep, "You heard the name Star..." He takes a deep breath. "This will be the only time I say this name and it's said for you to understand. After this it'll be the name we no longer speak. Have you heard the name Stardancer?"

Roman's eyes lock on Niklas and the Argus can see for himself that the Icemane knows that name but isn't happy to. "He was Sevastian's master, Zane spoke of him and that night." Zane's little brother looks away, hoping nobody sees the sadness in his gaze.

"Someone claiming that name has been seen," Niklas explains. "Needless to say this ain't a good thing. Do you think maybe it's him?"

Roman shrugs and looks uncomfortable even thinking about it, let alone discussing it. "If it is, I ain't see him, Niklas. I've seen others, spoken to those who've had run ins. It's not like before, not when Sevastian was still alive."

Niklas reaches over to clamp a hand on Roman's shoulder, the gesture meant to be calming. "So... what're we here for?"

Roman looks across at Faelin and the map she has, "Treasure hunting?"

Niklas glances to Faelin, "I ain't got any idea."

"More like information hunting, dear," Faelin drawls, eyes glittering as she watches Zane's brother. She glances to Nik, "There's an ancient place with black water that stains hands under moonlight and makes flesh cold. Tyrus' scent leads into there, and doesn't come out. Zane thinks this elder will know something about it. Or what it means to have your hands stained by it. Not that he's confided over much to me." She looks to Roman, "He give you anything in addition?"

Roman weighs up which beans to spill before shaking his head, "Not really. Zane doesn't talk much lately." He holds out a hand for the map, "Give us a look then. Let's see where we're going."

Faelin snorts but doesn't add additional commentary. She hands over the map without hesitation.

Niklas glances between them and stays quietly to the side except for saying, "Damn it's cold." He tugs his cloak around him and bundles up.

Roman stares at it and looks puzzled for a few seconds before turning it round the other way. "Ah now I get it. I keep telling Alexis if you're going to draw anything, mark North. Does she listen to me? Oh no. I know this river, never followed it past the falls, so all this is unknown to me. I can get you there though." He hands the map back to Faelin. "Ready if you are."

Faelin takes the map back and nods. "I think we're both ready, darling." She drawls to Roman. And, of course, looks to Nik to make sure.

Niklas nods in the affirmative. "Ready."

Roman grins and skips on forward across the snow, "Come on then, keep up if you can." A second later, his tail wags at the pair as he takes to the ground with all four paws.

Faelin pauses only long enough to gather up snow in one hand to throw after Roman. But she doesn't spend long on the aiming and may very well miss him. Then she's in fur and tail as well and she begins running after.

The snowball wizzes past, flicking Roman's ear on the way through. The only physical acknowledgement is an extra wag of his tail. He trots along, content to lead the way in silence unless engaged by the other two. Occasional glances are made back over his shoulder, not all of them taunting.

Faelin follows amiably enough after that. Her nose remains lifted to scents and an awareness of the situation going on. A grumble or two escapes her muzzle, but for the most part she's silent as she follows.

Roman crosses over a trail and stops, his muzzle lowering to the ground and his nose twitches as he catches a whiff of something. "Can you smell that?"

Something has passed by recently, probably hours ago and it doesn't smell all that good. Four or five different Weir scents but also one of decay.

Faelin trots up to that place on the ground and sniffs as well. Hackles rise slightly, "Something's been here. A few hours ago. Weir but also something rotting." She growls quietly.

"Dark wolves," mutters Roman as he turns his head to look along the path. "They went west, we continue north." That's the direction he continues in, picking up his pace just a little.

"North is where we need to go anyway, right?" Faelin chuffs.

Roman calls over his shoulder, "You're the one with the map, sweetness." The map does say north, till they get to the falls. After that they will turn north-west, cross over a gulley, perhaps a ravine and follow the river upstream some more. A bridge or crossing has been marked and not far from that, a clearing should exist. If the map is accurate, they'll be fine.

Faelin growls, "You are the one who looked at it last and decided which way to go, fluff-tail." The Huntress is not quite as charming as she might have been at their last meeting, no indeedy. "Once we hit the falls, we go north-west though. Then follow the river upstream so..."

Niklas trudges along, also on all fours. He, however, remains quiet... nearly brooding.

"Touchy," comes Roman's response but he leaves it alone after that, returning to silent travel. Another hour passes without interuption, allowing them to travel a fair distance. The foilage and trees start to thin out ahead of them and the scent on the air is fresh but cold. A dull roaring signals the falls and they can spy them now, water falling from on high.

Faelin grumbles something under her breath but doesn't follow up with additional verbal displeasure. "North west then. There'll be a gully we cross and a clearing..." She has obviously spent some time pouring over said map.

Roman stands upright and stretches arms, waggling his fingers at the pair. "From here we need to climb." He points to the top, "There's no trail but that shouldn't bother you two." A quick glance at the rock formation shows many ledges and jutting angles to use for their climb upwards.

Niklas walks up beside Faelin and nudges her 'cheek' with the side of his head. He shifts up onto two legs then and looks over at the rock formation. "Shouldn't be too difficult."

Faelin nudges Nik back but apparently takes the hint, or comfort. Whatever it might be. She shifts up and nods, "Cake."

Roman is as spry as a monkey and begins clambering up the rockface, determined to be a good guide. "It's a bit slippery but it's like climbing a ladder."

Niklas sniffs at the air as his hand reaches for the ledge. He pauses and says all alpha-like, "Roman... down." His yellow eyes turn back to look over his shoulder, scanning.

Faelin looks at Niklas as he speaks and then shifts back, looking around warily as well.

Niklas' warning comes just in time as arrows scream through the air towards the trio. One shatters against the rockface where Roman had been a moment before crouching on his ledge. The arrows come from the trees, quickly and in great number. Roman remains low, examining the remains of a shattered arrow before crying, "They're poisoned!" The Icemane starts hotfooting it up the rock face, scrabbling from one ledge to the other as quickly as he can.

Niklas growls and flips his cloak over his shoulders to expose his arms and let it fall to the ground.His leather armor and the multitude of glittering, pointy, sharpened things attached to it can now be seen clearly. With a ferral grin he snarls, "Show time." He charges forward, away from the rock and into the hail of arrows. One wouldn't think such a barbarian could be graceful but he is as he dances and darts to miss being hit.

Faelin unslings her bow and takes aim to shoot for the distant archers. If they have a line of sight on her, she seems to reason she can get one on them and perhaps make them think twice about popping out to score on Niklas. "Roman!" She shouts, "You better start firing once you're up there!"

Roman hears and obeys, unslinging his bow and firing off one arrow after another, trying to provide some form of cover for the crazy fool weaving his way towards the trees.

Niklas manages, somehow, to avoid being struck by the arrows but there are a few metallic clanks along the way as the projectiles bounce off some weapon or another. Once he gets the tree line and finds one of the attackers he growls and launches forward without hesitation or even thought, hoping to tackle the man before he can take a shot.

Faelin's pale eyes are narrowed. The success of one arrow finding a target is not allowed to rest on its laurels. She strides forward several paces and at an angle, trying to get another line of sight.

Niklas is on the man before he can fire and his arrow drops to the ground as he swings his bow at the larger Weir instead, looking to cave Nik's skull in.

Arrows continue to zip towards Faelin but not as many as before. Those aimed up towards Roman fall a few feet short of the mark, his own peppering the treeline using gravity to full advantage.

After downing that first attacker Niklas jumps to his feet only to stomp a boot back down into his face. The loud, resounding crack might suggest a crushed skull. Weapons are drawn then, Nik's favorite katars. With a wicked grin he turns to face the two coming at him with swords. "Now, now, fellas... what we have here is a failure to communicate. What do you say we sit down and have a little chat?" he asks as he wipes his bloody boot off in the snow.

Twang! Another arrow flies towards its target courtesy of Faelin. She jerks to the side nearly instantly after, avoiding the return gift from one of the other archers. She's exposed and a target. She breaks free from firing for a moment to sprint, full speed for a few yards the opposite way, skidding down to her knees in a stop and redrawing bow for her best imitation of a rapid-fire.

Squashed skull's buddies don't stop to enjoy the small talk, they charge Niklas and leave the chit chat to the clang of their blades against his. Neither appears as if they'll give any quarter nor do they expect it.

In the forest another of the ambushers topples over, Faelin's arrow protuding from his throat. Up above, Roman continues to provide cover but for the Huntress as she darts across the turf, sliding into home.

Niklas doesn't at all put out that they decline his invitation to talk. Instead his weapons flash and he moves to meet them, on weapon for each. For as large as he is Niklas can move quickly. He spins here, ducks there, leans the other way. It takes a minute or two and a few small wounds of his own but eventually Niklas downs them both with brutal efficiency, leaving their bleeding corpses on the ground with slit throats.

Faelin's keen gaze watches for further targets and she seems all to ready to decorate any bits of 'non-Niklas' people with fletching as opportunity allows. Return fire, however, may keep her moving.

A last arrow flies towards Faelin, wide of the mark and disappearing into the fall of water. Silence sounds from the forest, save for any noise Niklas might make. The scent of blood and death is strong within the vicinity now. Two bodies lay still, Faelin's arrows marking them as her victims. Three litter the ground at Niklas' feet, his own victims from this fray. Roman's voice sounds, breaking the stillness from his vantage point, "I can't see any movement from up here."

Niklas trudges out of the woods as he clips his weapons to his belt. He's sweaty but grinning like a mad man. "All I can smell now is blood." He returns to his cloak, picks it up and swings it about his shoulders. "Let's move before anyone else shows up."

When last we left our wayward little bunch of Weir, they were regrouping after having turned the tables on their attackers. Roman poised up at the top of thefalls waves Faelin and Niklas up, keeping an eye on the woods below for any signs of movement. Nothing stirs, save the wind which keeps the heavy scent of blood in all their nostrils.

Faelin glances to Niklas and the two mutually decide that she's probably the best to start up first. So she does so, climbing hand over hand, quick but careful.

Roman keeps a close watch on proceedings down below. Faelin's about three quarters the way up and Niklas is approaching the half way mark when Roman grins, "That's the best you can do, sweetness? Thought you were faster than that."

"What about our previous conversations today makes you think I'm in a teasing mood from your..." Faelin growls back. She looks up and meets Roman's dark eyes and, it seems her next words are going to be decided in the few seconds of reading what she sees there...

The Huntress finds herself staring up at a young man desperately trying to hold onto something, anything to keep his mind from the loss of his father and the shake up back home in his village. Easy to smile, quick with wit, that's Roman because it hides the pain and helplessness. Some pride needs to be salvaged, he wasn't even able to take charge in his mother's absence. Now Zane has sent him here to 'guide' strangers through Kazimir's lands and first thing he did? Led them into an ambush.

Roman stares down at Faelin and shrugs, a quip still forming on his lips, "Don't think because you can outrun... Where's he going?"  Faelin's almost at the top but Niklas has moved back to the base of the falls and is approaching the woods. Within the trees, a dark shadow flits from one corpse to another.

Faelin's expression shifts a little, weariness and apology both flitting. If Roman has keen senses, he may hear the quiet, "...sorry, darling..." If not? He may just need to read it from her eyes. She pauses and looks over her shoulder, "Looting? He's alright, yes?" Alarm and seriousness now.

As Niklas inches closer, the shadow moves to the last corpse and then fades back into the cover provided by the trees. Niklas signals for two up top to continue on, he'll catch them up. Roman extends his hand to help Faelin up over the last ledge. "I think one lone wolf isn't going to stick around and hassle Niklas. Do you?" He carries on right where they left off.

Faelin takes Roman's hand and squeezes lightly. "No, I guess not." She pauses and looks at him breifly before walking past to look around. "Hey. Thank you." She says simply.

Roman shrugs and shoulders his bow, "Don't thank me yet, still got a way to go. Come on." He glances down at Niklas once more before finding a trail and following it.

"Too late, already did," Faelin carols. She moves to flank Roman and takes his arm whether he wills it or not.

Roman does roll his eyes and whisper something about girl germs. However, he doesn't yank his arm away and grins when he glances at Faelin. "Should be easy going from here on in. You got that map handy?"

Faelin snorts and drops his arm. She strides forward a few feet and reaches into her jacket to take out the map. She looks at it, looks around and hands it to Roman.

Roman takes it, studies it and then points to the west a little. "That way," he says as he hands back the map. That's the way he walks, only making light conversation, a definite ploy to avoid serious discussion about anything.

"That way it is, then," Faelin says then. "Wanna run?"

Roman's answer is to burst forward, his paws hitting the ground and sending tufts of snow up into the air behind him. He sets a good pace, only glancing back once to see if Faelin can keep up.

Faelin shifts as well and runs, full out and fast as she can. Roman's tail will be nipped if she can get within range and she'll pull ahead if she can.

Roman yelps as his tail cops a friendly little reminder of company and he veers slightly off course to keep himself safe from sharp teeth. As Faelin pulls ahead of him, he puts his head down and strives harder, catching a little so as to be running beside her.

Faelin seems content to run side by side. She only nudges into him once and it is light, affectionate rather than not.

Roman whuffs happily, enjoying the feel of the cool air as he runs. When nudged, he returns the gesture and then slows slightly so as Faelin automatically sprints past, he can snap at her tail.

Faelin's tail is snipped and the canine chuff escaping her muzzle much like laughter.

Ahead the grass gives way to dirt, pebbles and rocks and steep vertical drop down. A gaping chasm lies before them, once they slide to a stop unless they've a mind to go over the edge.

Faelin skids to the stop, definitely. Absolutely. She leans over the edge, sniffing. "Woof."

Roman sends a few rocks tumbling over but he stops too and then creeps forward to peer down over the edge. "Helloooooooooooo." Helloooooo echoes back up at you both. "Long drop," says Roman as he looks left and right, "The map showed a bridge."

"Do you see one?" Faelin asks dryly, looking left to right. Her paw flicks a stone forward to fall over the edge too.

The stone falls a long way and even with ears pricked up to catch all sounds, Faelin doesn't hear the stone hit the ground. "Over there," says Roman, moving to his left.

Faelin exhales and then starts trotting along the left towads the bridge.

There is an old bridge, it used to be something people could cross over. Now it is simply one length of rope running from this side of the chasm to the other. Hanging from that stretched rope are old wooden boards, dangling like pieces of meat hanging up to be cured. Many have fallen away but a few remain, swaying in the breeze.

"You have to be kidding me," Faelin mutters, eyes widening.

Roman reaches out and pulls on the rope, it is secure and he says as much. "It's good. Tension's high, I think it'll hold us, one at a time."

Roman quickly quips, "Ladies first of course."

Faelin doesn't look quite as certain, but she shakes herself, fur bristling out. She shifts, hair flying about her face as a result. She walks to the rope and waggles her backside. "Okay... Right." She kneels down and walks hands out along the rope. One leg is hooked over and she's breathing hard as she starts to head out in earnest.

The rope does hold beneath the additional strain of Faelin's weight. The only real difficulty is when she comes to those loose hanging boards. She could cut them loose or simply swing past them.

Faelin pauses then sighs, "You'd better appreciate this, Icemane!" She calls back to Roman. Then she's using an elbow to hook along the rope so that she feels more comfortable freeing one hand to draw her knife and cautiously cut free the first board. Once done? Knife will get placed between teeth as she moves on to the next and, if all goes to plan, the next and the next.

Roman is sitting back at the edge, legs swinging back and forth as he chews his way through an apple. "I do, sweetness," he calls back to Faelin, "Just remember if the rope breaks to hang on. You can climb up to the top if you survive hitting the wall."

"Climb?" Faelin retorts, tone light despite her death grip on the rope. "Hell, darling, I could dance up it." She continues, cautious but steady.

"Well you do what you need, Faelin, I'll keep a good watchful eye out." The only thing Roman's watching is Faelin given the good view he has.

The crunching sound of boots on snow heralds Niklas' arrivale. "We may have a big problem," he says.

Faelin pauses, half of the way across the rope, "What?"

Roman tips his head back to look at Niklas, another bite taken of his apple, mouth full of fruit as he asks, "What problem? You afraid of heights?"

"Either someone didn't want those weir that attacked us to wake up," Niklas says, "Or someone besides me knows the Ritual." He looks down the rope to Faelin, "Someone went behind us to take their hearts and sever their heads."

Faelin starts moving again, faster than before. Hand over hand, leg hooked for stability. "Damn it."

Roman gets up and tosses the apple core into the ravine, like the many stones that have dropped over the edge before it, they don't hear it hit the bottom. "Think that rope can hold us all together?"

Niklas looks at the rope, Faelin and then Roman, "That thing probably won't even hold me alone, dude."

"Niklas, we don't have a choice. Unless we want to go back," Faelin says tightly. "Damn it. You can go back. I can handle this on my own." She pauses to cut another board away.

Roman spits onto his hands and then calls out to Faelin, "Hold on tight, sweetness, time to test this rope."

Weirmonken has beasts of the air as well as the ground, but the thing coming in from the distance doesn't seem like one of them. From this far away, it seems all wings and tail, and long neck.

Niklas steps to the edge of the ravine and looks down. He grunts as he looks back to the rope. You to get across and then I'll go alone just incase." He looks up as his ears catch sound of the wings and his yellow eyes squint as they scan the sky. When thye lock onto Theo he squints more as if trying to focus.

"Holding," Faelin says. She's a bit too preoccupied to notice the beast flying in. She does, however, stow knife between teeth to have both hands on the rope in preperation for the complication of Roman.

The rope dips lower with the additional of Roman's weight to its burden but it holds. Faelin is two thirds of the way across now and only three loose boards remain, snapping in the wind. Roman pulls himself along, hand over hand with both knees hooked over the rope. It's a good thing he's a lot smaller and thus lighter than his father and brother.

Niklas smiles after considering the flying figure for a moment. "We have company," he says, sounding very much like it's not a bad thing. As Theo draws closer he can see that Niklas has seen battle recently and bears a few odd, but inconsequential, wounds.

Theophrastus swoops down, over the group and the chasm - then keeps turning, heading to the opposite side. He roars a challenge into the trees, a monstrous bellow.

Faelin inhales sharply, eyes focusing upwards. She grins. Sharp and bright and very careful around that blade. "Good." She mumbles firmly, almost smugly. On to the next board.

Three figures emerge from the trees on the other side of the canyon, their attention turning away from those on the rope to the creature swooping through the air towards them. The two with bows, lift their arrows skywards, the dragon their target now. The third has a different target, sword drawn he charges towards the rope with obvious intentions.

Theophrastus ignores the bowmen, not as worried as some might be about arrows. He dives for the swordsman, opening his mouth and roaring out flame.

Niklas laughs as Theo spews flame at the swordsman. He does this even as he withdraws two daggers from their places against his armor. He may not be as proficient at it as his sister but he wheels back and launches one across the ravine with a grunt.

The swordsman screams as he catches alight, pain and fear turning him away from his task. He becomes a burning, twisting top, spinning around aimless and attempting to put out the flames right until he falls over the cliff edge. His screams can be heard for a few seconds before he vanishes from sight. The other two turn and run, fleeing into the forest behind them.

Theophrastus lands, and watches the men run before turning back to look at the chasm and the bridge.

Faelin cuts one of the boards free and looks forward, trying to guage exactly how far she has to go. Once more, she's putting on additional speed.

Roman scoots a little faster along the rope, edging closer to Faelin. "Stop slowing down the line!"

Niklas stands where the rope is attached to the other side watching patiently.

Theophrastus bobs his head around to gauge distance, then nods. "Little guy first," he calls, before taking to the air again. He comes around, and looks like he's planning to fly /under/ the bridge.

"I'm cutting the damn boards for you, you ingrateful little.." Faelin growls and then twists to look at Theo. Screw the boards, she's just rushing forward. One might almost think it's a matter of pride now.

The little guy watches in awe as Theo begins to fly beneath them. The awe quickly changes to excitement as he drops his legs and waits for it, getting ready to drop onto the dragon's back. "Wait till I tell Zane about this! A dragon!"

Theophrastus can't hover well, but he can fly slowly enough as he flaps under the bridge.

Roman drops and then scambles to hang on tight, sliding over the dragon's scales before finding purchase.

Niklas watches Roman with a grin. When Faelin's close enough to the other side he presses his boot against the rope as if trying to gage it's elasticity.

Again the rope dips but it keeps holding firm, perhaps an indication of why those on the other side of the bridge were going to cut it rather than wait for it to give way.

Faelin hisses with the dipping but is not waylaid.

Finally Faelin's feet find purchase on the other side of the ravine and she's able to haul herself up and across.

Theophrastus lands at about the time Faelin crosses, crouching down for Roman to slip off his back.

Roman slides off the dragon's back and lets out a whoop, bouncing about for a second or two before he remembers there were others over here. He unslings his bow and looks to Faelin for instruction.

Niklas sits on the edge of the ravine and then reaches to wrap his fingers around the rope, "If I fall in... give me a day or two to heal then come get me."

Faelin walks forward, inhaling deeply and frowning. She looks around, hand falling to her hip. She glances across the ravine and raises her voice, "Nik! Why don't you ask Theo to carry you?"

Theophrastus says, "He's too heavy."

Roman nocks an arrow, "Then we wait for him and hope that rope holds." He scans the trees, alert.

"It was an ambush," Faelin notes.

Niklas drags his back along the edge of the ravine to slowly apply his weight to the rope. It dips. Really dips. It causes him to groan but he starts moving quickly. Hand over hand he progresses trying to keep his body as streamlined as possible.

Hand over hand Niklas goes across the ravine. When he's about ten feet from the other edge there's a sudden creaking noise and then a loud snap. Niklas gets that 'oh shit' sort of look just a moment before the line goes slack and his body goes careening toward the rocky wall.

Theophrastus looks over at the creaking noise, and has just enough time to call out "GRIP!"

"Nik!" Faelin yelps. She jumps forward, but there is nothing to grab. No way to help. Nothing to do but watch.

Roman turns as he hears the snap and Theo call out. Running to the edge, he peers over to see what happened to Niklas.

Niklas growls as his fingers go white knuckle tight around the rope. He twists at the same time turning his off shoulder toward the rock. There's a loud crunch as he meets the ravine wall but it's hard to tell if that's something inside him or if it was the rock. It did sound sort of gravelly. With a grunt he shifts his weight again and starts climbing the rope. "I told you!" he calls up, as the toes of his boot find purchase.

Theophrastus is suddenly a man, and perched on the edge of the chasm. "Shut up," he says down, calm. "You can't work the rope side to side - it's on a sharp edge. Hand over hand, and keep your goddamn balance centered, like I've shown you."

Roman watches Niklas and smirks, "Look, we don't have time to hang around all day." He flicks a quick look to Faelin, "Too easy."

Faelin crouches down by the edge as well. "Can we help by pullint the roap up? Or would we knock your balance off, Nik?"

Niklas pauses in his climbing and closes his eyes. A deep breath is taken and he straightens his legs out beneath him. Somehow he even manages to square his shoulders. His hands resume working again and hand over hand he resumes his ascent. The rope barely moves. "Just leave it," he says in a normal, relaxed tone. When he gets close enough he resets his balance again and reaches a hand up for help.

Roman takes a step back from Theo and makes sure Niklas has plenty of room to swing over the edge. The distance between Faelin and Roman reduces dramatically and he asks her in a quiet voice, "What kind of man is a dragon or is he a dragon that's a man?"

Theophrastus reaches down for Niklas's hand. "Good work," he says.

"He is Theophrastus," Faelin says mildly, quietly, as if that should answer it.

Niklas looks relieved when his feet meet the ground again and he nods to Theo, "Thank you, sir." He leans to look back down the ravine. "We'll have to find a new way home..."

Roman decides he'll ask Niklas later, "We'd best keep an eye out. Faelin which way?" As he waits for her to refer to the map, he mutters to himself, "A Theophrastus? What's a Theophrastus? Never heard of such a creature. Looks like a dragonman to me."

"Theophrastus, this is Roman. Zane's brother. Roman? This is Theophrastus," Faelin introduces. She gestures, "That way. We should find a clearing. There were others on this side? Other than the one that got burnt, right?"

Theophrastus nods to Niklas, and turns to Roman. "Roman. Good to meet you. Yes, there were two men with bows, but they ran. There's a river, a little further into the woods from here, they may have escaped down it, or retreated to try again."

Niklas rolls his head around his shoulders and then stretches out his arms and hands. "Remind me to tell Zane when we get back that he owes us big time for this one."

Roman oh's, "He is Theophrastus, not he is A Theophrastus." He grins at Theo and nods his head respectfully at least in greeting. "I've never met a dragon before, mister. Welcome to Kazimir's lands." Still with arrow nocked, the youngest of the three Weir turns in the direction Faelin pointed out. "There was a river on the map."

Theophrastus says, "Then we're on the right path."

"Let's count on them still being about, right?" Faelin looks to Theo and Niklas, then back to the world around, "It should be dead ahead." She starts off, steps ground covering but gaze scanning. She takes her own bow from her shoulder and holds arrow notched and ready.

Niklas falls in behind the others, a pair of glinting knives suddenly pulled. "If these are men of the man who's name we don't speak... well... that's bad. He's got more than I'd've expected."

The forest is dark, the only brightness would be the snow and ice that decorate the ground but that's a dull gray here. The white snow of the Spire only a dim reminder of the joys winter holds. There are footprints, deep in the mush, left behind by the two who ran from the dragon. The silence screams at further ambush and traps, none of the animals that reside within these woods stirring. Alert and watchful, the small group trek onwards but no arrows or men break cover towards them. A half a mile into the forest they can see the banks of the river that cuts through the trees. A small bridge rises over it, crafted from stones and boulders.

"Better bridge this time," Theo notes.

"Thank the gods," Niklas says.

Roman glances at Niklas, "There are no gods." He shrugs and moves towards the bridge.

Niklas grunts, "Figure of speech, little man."

"Nice little bridge," Faelin murmurs.

Roman remarks, "The bigger they are, the harder they crash into sides of canyons."

Niklas grins but reaches over to cuff the back of Roman's head. "The smaller they are the farther you can throw 'em."

Faelin snorts, rolling her eyes. "You go across first this time, Roman."

Roman's head dips forward courtesy of Niklas' thwap. "Well beauty before age, I get it." He skips ahead to the bridge and crosses over without any trouble. Turning around, he faces the other three, grinning. "Nothing to it." There's a dull thudding sound and Roman's grin turns to surprise before he pitches forward into the river. An arrow can be seen sticking out of his back before he sinks beneath the surface.

Theophrastus says, "Well, shit."

Two more arrows thud into the trees around them. Their attackers on the other side of the river.

"Waterfall," Faelin snaps and swears. She breaks to run a few yards downstream. Her bow remains notched and she is looking for a target, but her primary goal seems to be making sure Roman isn't carried to a nastier fate than the one he's already met.

Theophrastus runs for the bridge proper. "Get the kid," he says, as he heads over to cross the river, drawing his sword.

Two obvious targets present themselves to the last of the ambushers and they shoot, an arrow flying towards Theo's chest and the other towards Faelin.

Theophrastus takes the arrow to the chest, and brushes it away. It must have snagged on his clothing, for there is no blood to be seen on his shirt. It doesn't stop his stride, certainly, and he crosses the river, seeking out targets.

Niklas bolts after Theo his knives quickly exchanged for Katars, "Right behind you, Theo."

There was a glimpse of darkness in the water beneath the surface, Roman's body pulled down and dragged away by the tow of the river. Another arrow flies towards Theo before a man rushes from the woods, sword held high to engage. Faelin is missed but another of the missiles is fired towards her.

"Are these Weir?" Theo calls back to Niklas. Before he can hear an answer, though, he's engaged the man, steel meeting steel.

Faelin jukes left, ducking low. She drops her bow, quiver falling soon after to spill arrows across the ground. When she reaches the bank, arms go forward and she dives for the shadow of Roman's form.

"Weir!" Niklas calls to Theo as he rushes past the man, aiming for one of the archers. As he does so an arrow glances off one of the blades strapped to his armor.

Theo's opponent snarls at him and swings his blade wildly, hoping for speed to get past Theo's defences.

Faelin surfaces, gasping for air. She swears, hands hastily undoing belt so that sword will fall away. Breath, breath, dive down again. Fingers streatched and searching again.

Theophrastus grins. "Good," he says, answering Niklas but addressing the man he's dueling. "Weir burn." His off-hand sprouts a curved dagger of eye-blinding  white flame, and comes up into his opponent's gut, making flesh sizzle and burn.

Faelin's hand closes around something and she pushes up towards the surface, kicking as hard as she can to break through the water. Air is sucked into her  lungs as she pulls Roman's still body to the surface as well. She's going to need help getting back to shore though, the water tugging both her and prize along faster.

Niklas launches at the archer he singled out first, katars flashing as he snarls.

The Weir screams in agony as Theo sets him burning on the inside. There's a vacant and yet horrified look in the man's eyes, as if he knows that death's embrace will not be fleeting. The last archer swings his bow upwards, blocking Niklas' first attack but the wood buckles, carved in half beneath the fury of Niklas' weapons.

Faelin coughs, spluttering as she hauls Roman up. She is no life guard though, and her strokes and kicks are off. She fights her way to one of the shore line. At this point she doesn't care which.

Theophrastus knocks the man down to the ground. He leaves the dagger in the man's belly, and it begins to expand and consume him as Theo looks for another target, or another place to be helpful.

Niklas laughs as if mad when his blade slices through the bow. His other comes up in an 'upper-cut-like' motion. The tip of the Katar's center blade, the longest, widest one, is aimed under his opponent's jaw.

Theophrastus looks around, sees no more men - but sees Faelin. "Damn," he says. "Water." Still, he runs for the shore.

"No!" Faelin yelps, sharp and urgent. She kicks harder, pulls back on Roman more and scans the water furiously.

The man doesn't even have a chance to scream and wouldn't be able to when Nik's blade rams upwards through skin, flesh and bone. His face is cleaved in half from the bottom upwards, blood spewing forth as it opens like a book to Nik.

Theophrastus tosses his sword aside, and slips his coat off as he heads for the riverbank. He takes a deep breath, and plunges in.

Niklas yanks his blade free and lets the man's body fall to the ground without a second thought. He turns toward the others. When he realizes what's happening he sprints behind Theo. He, however, doesn't plunge in.

Faelin's expression is that of controlled panic, rapidly losing the controlled part. "He's getting tugged /away/ from me!" She bellows. "Falls?" She isn't in a position to see where she is, on her back in the water, trying desperately to get a better grip.

Theophrastus swims, somewhat clumsily, towards Faelin. "I'll take him! Get yourself safe!"

There's another tug, a violent one and Faelin's hand comes out of the water holding onto Roman's coat but the young Icemane is gone.

Theophrastus lurches forward, but his hands come up empty as well.

Niklas runs, as fast as he can, up the side of the river. Surely that's quicker than swimming when encumbered by armor and weapons. Enroute he reaches to take hold a vine, snapping its length from the tree only to whip it around and toward Faelin.

Faelin shrieks outright, protest and fury. She twists, almost about to dive again. But Theo is there and Nik is throwing something. "I can't see him!" She hollars instead.

Theophrastus reaches for vine and Faelin both. "He's gone!"

Niklas swings his arm wide to wrap the vine around it and leans back for support. Once Theo has Faelin and the vine he begins reeling them in.

Faelin isn't going to fight Theo. She's not that foolish to endanger them all. But she doesn't stop searching, looking left to right with wide eyes.

Reeling them in takes time, even if Faelin doesn't struggle against Theo, but eventually, reel them in he does. Both are soaking wet and Faelin's lost her sword and belt but they are unharmed and not empty handed. Faelin still has Roman's coat. A shift in the wind brings the scent of smoke to the three upon the river bank. There is a small path visible to them, leading away from the bridge.

Theophrastus looks at Faelin once they're out of the river. "He'll recover from the fall. I can fly down, find him."

"Fire," Niklas says glancing toward the path by the bridge. He looks to Faelin then, "He'll be alright, Darlin'."

"We have to find him," Faelin gasps, going to hands and knees to catch a breath. She nods though, to either Theo or Niklas. "I know. As long as nothing else is about..."

There's more than just smoke, something's brewing. It's not tea, not coffee but definitely herbal. Smells good too.

Theophrastus kneels down next to Faelin. "Know how you rib me about duty and honor? I promise you, Faelin, we'll find him. We'll come back for him."

Faelin nods again, green eyes intent as she looks to Nik. "We will." She says, jaw a hard line. She shudders, but moves to stand up, swallowing hard.

Niklas sniffs the air again and looks toward the path again. "Somethin' ain't right," he comments. "Smells like somebody's makin'... beer?"

Theophrastus looks at Niklas. "Beer?"

"I'm unarmmed," Faelin notes and looks towards the path. "Elders are odd ducks? Who knows what the man might be doing?"

Niklas shrugs, "It smells good... I know that much." He withdraws what would be a long dagger for him and offers it to Faelin. For her it's more of a short sword. "It smells kind of... herbal, maybe?"