Event Log: February, Outpost Problems

[faileas]

Event Log: February, Outpost Problems

I. Adventuring We Will Go (Tomorrow) The word gets around pretty quick. Anybody who plans to journey with the group of Wilders venturing out to set up a new outpost is invited to attend a traditional gathering they have before an expedition: the packing party. On the evening of the 15th, the Wilders' HQ is bustling with activity. The whole group is present making the final preparations, sorting gear, and checking the carts for maintenance. The atmosphere is easy and upbeat, very casual, with Wilders laughing and telling jokes and stories as they work. One has to have a little fun before it's time to be serious, after all! A lot needs done, and more hands are always welcome. Camping gear and provisions need to be checked, inventoried, and dispersed into enchanted rucksacks that can hold twice as much as you might think they could - there will be enough rucksacks for each explorer in the party. Everyone is expected to carry their own. Shrunken-down construction materials for the new outpost need to be loaded into the three self-propelled carts the party will travel with (if only they were self-steering as well!). The carts themselves haven't been necessary for an expedition in a while; they could probably use some fixing up, greasing the axles and making sure the enchantments are fully charged with magic. And, too, this is a chance for the group to mingle and get to know each other. You have to be able to trust your fellows out there in the Wilde, after all. So there's a table with food bought off a few street carts: fried hand pies in meat (no one's sure what kind of meat, but hey!), veggie, and fruit varities; a pot of simmering jellied eel to be scooped into cups and eaten with spoons; fried squabs on sticks dripping grease. Beer is plentiful, as are bottles of a non-alcoholic ginger beer. Everyone is encouraged to eat, pack, and get to know each other. Especially because, the lead Wilders on this expedition will say, it's recommended that everyone going out there have a Bonded - whether it be their own normal Bonds if they're also going, or temporary Bonds with their fellow party members. The table also bears a few dozen of the temporary Bonding potions, and it's highly encouraged, though not required, that more experienced explorers temporarily Bond with those who are much newer to Aefenglom. It's nature's buddy system, you know. Whatever you're going to do, do it before the morning - the group leaves at first dawn, and will not wait for anyone too hungover to be on time. While having a Bond isn't required for the trip, the Wilders will strongly encourage it for anyone who isn't Bonded or whose Bond partners aren't going. The three-Bond safety limit does still apply to temporary Bonds, though! If you'd like to tag around for potential temp Bonds, head over to this thread right here!

II. The Silent Forest It becomes clear that, while the journey starts off easy, it won't remain that way. The group leaves out at dawn and passes first through stretches of land considered 'safe' - safe enough to be generally habitable, and the first couple of hours see the occasional farm on the way. There are few to no signs of Cwyld this close to the city, but then they start to slip into the region considered 'in progress'. These are the lands the Wilders have been focusing on, and so while there are the occasional patches of infected plants, they're easily dealt with by small, controlled burns. As the day drags on and the hike continues, though, the landscape changes. The trees grow thicker and the underbrush more dense. The machetes have to come out at points to clear the path for the carts; whoever is currently on cart-steering duty, please don't damage them! The atmosphere, too, changes around this time; the laughter dies down, expressions become more serious, Wilders are noticeably more alert to the possible presence of Shades or hostile creatures. By evening, the forest is thick and dark, the trees around them ancient and twisting. No one has ventured out to this area in quite a while, the more experienced Wilders will say, and that becomes very obvious. The once-beautiful forest is heavily infected by the Cwyld, and the small cabin that served as a Wilder outpost is overgrown, still bearing the 5-year-old corpse of a dead Wilder. Adventurers are advised to take caution when touching anything - wear gloves and heavy boots and watch your step out here, folks. The way still needs to be cleared. a. The Flora The oldest of the trees present are fully dead, thick trunks turned black and shiny, letting in light from above where their leafless branches reach out to the trees around them. The brush is thick and thorny; even small pricks and cuts in the skin are liable to be infected, a black ring forming around the wound, darkening the veins branching out from it, and need immediate treatment to keep it from spreading. It's hard to avoid other than by simply wearing thick clothing and hoping for the best. Nestled in the roots of the trees are pitcher-like plants filled with a sticky sap; the Wilders are excited to see these, and despite the dangers, comb through them to see if any remain uninfected. The sap in infected plants is black and tarry, while in uninfected plants it runs clear. This sticky liquid is excellent for smearing over wounds to seal them and draw out minor infection, and they'd be delighted to take some whole plants back for cultivation. As well, a certain breed of tree seems to have escaped infection entirely; these tall, woody trees have shiny green leaves, a contrast to the rest of the forest, and bear small green fruits that smell (and taste, should you eat one) deliciously sweet. All is not always as it seems out here in the Wilde, though - be careful which fruit you choose to imbibe. These trees are not immune to the Cwyld, they only hide their infection well. It can only be determined which trees are infected by cutting into them and inspecting the sap (difficult, because the sap of all the trees is highly toxic, and even inhaling near it will have nasty side-effects of vertigo, vomiting, and even temporary blindness). If it runs black at all, the tree is infected, and the fruit, sweet as it might taste, is deadly poisonous. Trees that are only mildly infected are a Russian roulette: you have an 80-20 chance of getting a toxic fruit or a good one. Most of the Wilders don't feel it's worth the risk. b. The Fauna The party spends a couple of days in the Silent Forest out of necessity. Initially, it seems as if there is no animal life left on this desolate patch of land. No birds chirping, no mammals scurrying about, not even an insect to buzz around the explorers' heads. It becomes quite clear that the Cwyld has consumed nearly everything, and the life left is hardly life at all. Shades are not uncommon. When camp is made for the night, capable fighters will have to rotate guard duty and patrols around the campsite, to fight off the shadows of what used to live here as they sense life and magic to consume. Dessicated, white-eyed bucks with cracking antlers, bloated and mutated birds screeching angrily, even, perhaps, the Shade of a bear, huge, enraged, and difficult to take down. But that second night, those who are alert may get the tingling sense that they're being watched. They are, in fact, by a band of nomadic Monsters, primarily Harpies and Arachne passing through. They don't approach the camp, and they won't speak to any of the Wilder group, merely watching them with something like curiosity before they flee into the forest again. It's hard to get close to them before they disappear, more at home in this dead forest than you will ever be, but close observation shows that all are scarred in some way; missing parts of limbs, eyes, or bearing even worse marks on their bodies. c. The Solution It's too thick an area to clear simply by burning. They'd set the whole dry patch of forest alight and kill who knows what along with the Cwyld. Some smaller areas can be taken care of with fire and careful supervision, but the rest of it... The lead Wilder on this expedition, a prematurely-greying Witch named Rilla Sparks, puts forth a suggestion. She admits, it's one based heavily on theory and speculation, along with the findings of certain prominent researchers in the city. If they can find the leyline, she thinks the Witches in their party can flood it with enough positive, nurturing magic to 'flush' the Cwyld out of the vicinity, so to speak. Or, she hopes, enough to make it passable in the future. It's experimental, but isn't that what this trip is about? Discovering new things? If enough of the party is game, the first step is finding the leyline in the area. This can be sniffed out by Witches and Monsters both, as they're drawn to sources of magic, even tainted magic; and, too, if anyone takes a look from the air, the leyline becomes obvious, as it cuts a much darker, more heavily infected line across the forest floor, like a blackened vein. Once it's found, it's up to the Witches in the group. Gathering over the blackened ground, anyone who wants to participate in the ritual should join in pairs or groups, down on their knees to be closer to the earth, and should 'push' their magical energy into the leyline through their hands pressed to the dirt. Each push results in a pulse of light beneath the blackness of the ground, weak at first, but stronger the more magic is expended. It will take several hours, which means the occupied (and then spent) Witches will require the protection of their Monster fellows, and interacting this closely with a tainted leyline will have side effects. A low degree of Cwyld infection is possible in the hands, but not guaranteed. Intense fatigue and dizziness is certain, along with pain when casting spells, and terrible nightmares for as long as the symptoms last - anywhere from 2 to 6 days, depending on how much magic the individual Witch expelled and how much rest they get after. It will take some time to see if their labors bear fruit. They'll check on the area again on the way back; they can't stay in one place for too long.

III. Ruins of a Past Life In the next couple of days, as the journey commences, the obvious signs of infection lessen in the landscape. The trees thin out again as they head further north. With the Wilde just barely dipping toes into autumn, and no thick canopy of foliage to block out the sun, it's a hot, uncomfortable walk. Those on cart-steering duty are considered lucky, getting to sit for a few hours, but it doesn't last - the duty is rotated between volunteers. Enjoy it while you've got it. At one point, with the sun high in the sky, they stop to refill canteens and jugs with fresh water and to take a bit of a swim. Here, the water cascades into a wide lake below, which eventually feeds back into the main river that cuts through Aefenglom farther south. At the top of the waterfall, it's much easier to see something in the distance, that isn't specifically on the route but is a small enough detour (only a mile or two off) that the guides permit it. It's the ruins of a former settlement, clusters of shells of burned out houses and buildings, a dried up well, and the crumbling remnants of a wall - reminiscent of the Bright Wall, but much, much smaller, only about eight or nine feet high at its tallest point. There is no magic left in it, though, nor any people in the ruined town. There haven't been for years and years, judging from the mossy overgrowth and state of disrepair. Some signs of the former inhabitants can still be found in the houses; the Wilders agree to make camp here for a night, to give everyone some time to explore. a. In The Daytime The ruins are depressing, but safe, in the daylight. It isn't hard to put together what happened here - a Cwyld outbreak must have come on them quickly, and judging from the hasty, half-burned homes, it was poorly contained. Some homes still contain skeletons in rotted scraps of clothing, some bones charred and others picked clean by animals. Many of their possessions still remain, except there are no books left anywhere in the town, even on shelves where books obviously were before. The patterns in the dust indicate that the books, all that survived the fires initially, were removed much more recently, within the last year or two perhaps. Otherwise, much is untouched. There are still dishes and flatware on broken tables, rotted blankets on beds, children's toys scattered over floors, axes hung on walls. A sort of thick, somewhat mucous-y grayish-green moss grows in flat sheets over most of the ruins. It isn't infected by the Cwyld; in fact, the areas where it grows seem to be free from it. Coincidence? Not? The Wilders have never seen anything quite like it, and are interested in taking samples back to study. (And for those of you who can't help but put things in your mouths: yes, the moss is edible. It tastes a little... earthy, but gives a pleasant caffeine-like buzz and burst of energy. Good for Witches still feeling the effects of the leyline flushing.) Outside the remnants of the wall, there are years-overgrown gardens, and perfectly good potatoes, asparagus, and raspberries can be found still growing, hardy and perennial even without human hands to tend to them. These people lived a more simple life than those in relatively-modern Aefenglom, as there isn't any magitech to be found, but somehow, they made themselves a home out here in the middle of nowhere. b. Ghosts of a Forgotten Settlement After nightfall, the dead town comes alive again, in a morbid sense. The party will soon find that the sunset brings the emergence of specters of the town's deceased residents - ghastly semi-transparent echoes of humans and Monsters, men, women, and children, in the state they were in at their deaths. Some are badly burnt, others were obviously infected, on their way to becoming Cwyldtid. Now, they go about their former lives every night, filling the ruined town with a sense of dread and foreboding that is impossible for the living to ignore. The ghosts cannot be touched or physically interacted with, and many of them simply ignore the Wilders and Mirrorbound completely. Spectral children play in the streets, adults tidy shops that are no longer there, or head out to the field to farm. They do so with expressions full of sadness, and desperation, as if trapped in this cycle of un-life. Others not only notice the group, but try to turn on them, enraged at the sight of intruders, though their shouts and screams are silent. They can't do any damage, but if they pass through you, you'll feel a bone-deep chill, despite the late-summer heat hanging in the air, and the specters' 'touch' will fill anyone with an aching, heavy despair, or rage - echoes of the emotions the ghosts experienced before their deaths.

IV. The Northern Outpost The sparse forest thins even more to the north. The terrain grows more uneven, rockier and hilly, with drier soil and hardy, sun-bleached grass instead of moss and leaf litter. Several natural rock formations can be spotted in the distance, growing larger as the group gets nearer. The trees here are few and far between, shorter and sturdier, casting only small circles of shade on the baked landscape. Wildflowers dot the grass in every color of the rainbow in the areas that remain uninfected. A low degree of Cwyld infection can be found here, turning the grasses overgrown, dry and brittle, and the sparse trees gnarled and blackened. This is to be expected, though. You can't venture this far out and expect anywhere to be completely untouched. The spot Rilla Sparks chooses for the new outpost is cradled between two large spires of stone, with a cliff-face at the back of it - protected on three sides to defend from animals and Shades, with a relatively clean stream within an hour's walking distance. Construction has to commence immediately. Once they land, it's a flurry of activity, as there is much work to be done. The building supplies are returned to their original sizes and it's all hands on deck to put together the low wooden building. With everyone working as quickly as they can, it should take about three days to get set up enough to consider the outpost open. Also on the to-do list: setting up the teleporter waypoint given to the Wilders by the Coven, to shorten the trip from Aefenglom to this far-flung outpost. It's smaller than the one in Dorchacht, only able to transport three people at a time, but the technology is the same. They'll need as many magitech-capable hands as they can get to calibrate it to the local energies and get it up and running. While all this is going on, exploration of the local area is high on the list as well, to ferret out any potential dangers that may be inherent to setting up here, or potential boons that can be taken back to Aefenglom, and to start work on their maps. There's a job for everyone, and while they're happy to let people do what they're good at, or rotate between different tasks, anybody slacking off will get the stink-eye - you came to work, right? This is no vacation! After the first day, though, things start... getting a little weird. Items start disappearing at random times, just out of nowhere, no rhyme or reason to the things taken. Hammers, half-drawn maps, scraps of wood, your half-eaten lunch if you look away from it for long enough. Personal items may go missing as well, if left unattended, so keep your precious things and weapons close. You may hear muffled voices - laughter, indiscernible chatter - around the times when stuff goes missing; it could be the voice of a stranger, or maybe it's the voice of someone you know, someone you've been traveling with for the last several days. But why would they want to steal your pen, or your handful of nails, or your drink cup? Weirder still, holes in the dirt start turning up in the night. Maybe six feet deep, dug at an angle like the beginning of a tunnel, and cutting off abruptly. Digging further down in these holes doesn't turn much up at first, but checking enough of them will turn up only a handful of the smaller missing items with teeth marks in them. Inconsequential, uninteresting, inedible things, or straight up trash in some cases. With enough persistence and maybe a good old fashioned stake-out, the culprits turn up: a pack of sand-colored, hyena-like animals that perfectly mimic human and Monster voices that they hear (often repeating words out of context, like much dumber parrots - they don't know what they're saying, only what the words sound like), and scavenge for whatever they can get their paws on. The hyenas are aggressive when confronted, and pack-oriented, but can be won over eventually by feeding them, or talking at them: different hyenas like different sounds and different words, so it might take some trial and error. Several bear low-level infections that can still be cured. Maybe eventually they can be trained. But then, where is everything else they stole? Please note that only a very small number of the items missing will be found on this trip! If you don't want something of your character's gone for an indeterminate amount of time, don't have it stolen. It's just possible they might turn up at a later date, however...

Welcome to February's event log, Outpost Problems! The expedition will last about an IC week for everyone who completes the trip; characters can return to Aefenglom with a pair of Wilder scouts at any stop along the way, though. As always, please direct your event-specific questions here! You can tag around for temporary Bonds in this thread, and if your character would eat the fruit in the Silent Forest, please post here for your dice roll (we did say it's a Russian roulette). Enjoy the trip outside the Bright Wall, everyone!

Comments

[whomthebelltolls]

[Now this, this she likes. She's been the recipient of some harsh criticisms since she arrived in this place - some, perhaps, justified when comparing how soft some of the other Mirrorbound here are, how gentle their lives have been that they have the luxury to not know what it's like to fight for your life, and what little humanity one can salvage - that she now prefers a more gruff and direct approach. This one must be one of the newer Monsters - she's not seeing too many telltale signs as to what he might even be, but it makes it easier for her to forget about things like Beasthood and her own skewed perspective on the Monsters. Even if it's since mellowed out significantly.

She follows his gaze off into the trees; she's learned some of the Monsters get significantly better senses than humans at times, and it can be worthwhile to utilize them, but she also doesn't see anything.]

Do you yet know your Monster type?

[supersoldier]

Harpy.

[He had been told as much, and it was practically confirmed after the changes had begun to run their course. Spotted along his body, in inelegant patches thus far, feathers have begun their growth, changing the texture of the affected skin as they slowly, laboriously, break the surface. It’s a foreign discomfort — an uncalled for itch at this shoulder blades — that Sephiroth hides under his unyielding demeanor. Most of it goes unseen, covered by his clothing, with the exception of longer black plumes that have nestled in-between pleats of silver hair, more visible when an errant breeze sweeps by.

It would explain his strange pull towards the branches rather than the ground, however. The swaying treetops have always looked cumbersome and impractical before; now, they appeal to him as an opportunity unused.

At least he is pointedly self-aware of it. If changes must be thrust upon him, he refuses to wallow in complete ignorance, surprised by each and every one. As illustrated as he motions ahead and above at that same cluster of trees, but at their shivering branches.]

The ground has become a tactical disadvantage in my mind as a result. I would be able to see better from above.

[whomthebelltolls]

But you've not yet been given your wings. [She finishes the thought. He covers his skin about as well as she does, so of course it's difficult to tell, but just feathers doesn't always mean anything. She knows two chimeras that are feathered.

It's helpful to know, though. She still sees most of the Monsters, especially the ones she doesn't know well, as potential threats first.]

Hm. Has your vision improved, though? That may prove rather invaluable in this place. Some of those Shades can be... unpleasantly sneaky. [She thinks of the Woman from the other month and it brings back the unpleasant reminder of trying to hunt her down through the thick forests outside of Aefenglom. Maria had good company, at the time, but it was still not the easiest thing she'd done.]

[supersoldier]

[A flicker of something crosses his brow at the mention of wings, though perhaps that’s easily attributed to the idea of such a substantial change being wrought on his person. But it’s gone as soon as it has arrived, and he answers just as plainly before.]

No. Not yet.

[Yet the irritation splotched around his back suggests he certainly wouldn’t be spared of them.]

No other changes, with the exception of a few feathers. Improved vision is an advantage for another day.

[But that does not mean that either of them cannot take the initiative. The trees shiver, casting long shadows in haphazard light. It is too difficult to tell if danger encroaches at any given moment until it presents itself, and Sephiroth is not terribly fond of the idea — preferring to exert control over a situation; to be active rather than reactive.

He moves forward, coupled with a—]

I’m going to look ahead. There are plenty keeping guard if you’re inclined to join.

[whomthebelltolls]

Hm. As long as you can fight otherwise, it is less important. [All of that will come in time. It's useful for Maria in other ways, though, to know the Monsters before they become truly... monstrous though. It helps keep her tenuous peace with them.

She watches him take a step, and makes a quick decision to go with him. Wandering off alone is a bad idea, and, well, she thinks he has a good idea. Doing sweeps to keep a decent breathing space is never a bad idea. Her long legs at least make catching, and keeping, up easy, at least. She keeps a hand casually near her sword, because as soon as they get out of sight range of the main group, they're potential targets - and it won't take long to get that far.

If nothing else, at least they'll be away from the magical explosion if it happens. She's about as quiet as he is, though, as they walk. Hopefully he's not expecting a particularly verbose conversation partner.]

[supersoldier]

[It is telling that his step would not have been underpinned with hesitation even if she did not join him. Telling of what, exactly, other than a silent confidence, is difficult to say. But much like Maria’s blade, his own is not for show — held at an angle just behind him as he walks, the sword is as sharp as it is long, and the pair make for quite the intimidating sight as they push through the foliage and low-hanging branches.

A quiet pair, too. Sephiroth was never one for idle conversation or superfluous prattle, and the crunch of dirt beneath his stride is the only sound emanating from him for a long while. The silence does not unnerve him. It bothers others, more often than not, a pressurizing quietude that most are stifled under, but it appears that her demeanor is rather similar, sparing her of the discomfort.

All the better for it. It means there are no distractions to upend them when something darts between the trees in the distance, a shadowed figure, there and then gone.

Sephiroth stills. Fingers twitch around the hilt of his weapon, but the extent of his reaction seemingly ends there.]

Confident against these creatures?

[Judging where they stand, air gone still the way it does before something snaps, a threat ready to unveil itself.]

[whomthebelltolls]

[Silence has other benefits, anyway. It's easier to keep her ears open for dangers approaching from the back or sides, it's also easier to hear anything at all, when not distracted trying to focus on a conversation.

There's the briefest rustle that catches her attention just as the shadow flees, and she squints after it, briefly, trying to figure out what manner of creature it is.

Perhaps something with a pack. A pack that thinks them breaking off from their own group is a sign of weakness, and they'll be easy to pick off. The man next to Maria seems comfortable with his sword, as she is with hers (the guilt and shame surrounding its existence which caused her to be rid of it the first time notwithstanding), and now they're... perhaps to be ambushed? Or perhaps just being watched and measured. She's ready for the worst.]

I see no reason they should be a problem. [They're nowhere near the ocean, she should be fine.]

[supersoldier]

Good.

[—is all he says, a steady approval of her confidence. Less to worry about; not that either of them exude anxiety in the first place, even as shadows flicker once more at each side.

If he could hazard a guess, Sephiroth would suspect at least two creatures, a group mentality that believes flanking them is the most effective strategy now that they’re vulnerable, cut off from the main group. And in most cases, they would be correct. But as he stands, statue-still as the rustling noises encircle them both, Sephiroth only waits with patience carved into his features, shadowed with not even a modicum of trepidation.]

Take care of the one on your left. I’ll handle the other.

[He says it a half-second before two Shades dart out from beyond the cover of the trees, elk-shaped infected with dead eyes and sharply broken antlers, one charging straight at Maria, the other careening towards Sephiroth. Not the usual fauna that he would have assumed to move in pairs, but it’s no time to second guess what a blackening infection might do to one’s inherent nature — instead, he twists his body towards the inbound threat, Masamune glinting in the light.

The one making a mad dash at Maria has lowered its head, kicking up soil and rushing at her with its huge frame of jagged antlers.]

[whomthebelltolls]

[She was expecting predatory animals - this is a predator's tactic, but when it turns out to be ungulates, that is a bit of a surprise. Not enough of one to break her concentration, though, as the creature kicking up dirt and leaves bares down on her.

Fortunately, Maria is a Witch very comfortable with her own abilities at this point, and has weaved them into some of her old combat tactics. It's not going to charge right into Sephiroth if she jumps out of the way, so she does. Well "jumps" is a bit of a misnomer - she simply disappears in a flash of magic, and the Shade charges through thin air, careening off and into the trees and bushes behind her - clearly not ready to stop without extra weight to slow it down from hitting her. She reappears, her boot scuffing through some leaves, before the magic flashes one more time and she's on the recovering Shade, without giving it any time to reorient itself. Her blade bites deep into the flank of the creature, severing muscle and tendons, and hopefully slowing it a bit. She knows these things don't feel pain, but damage to the actual workings of the bits can help with that.

And she has to sidestep a whip-snap fast kick that manages to tag her cape, yanking it against its ties at her throat, but otherwise not doing any damage to her. Oh, these ones are mean.]

[supersoldier]

[Meanwhile, the one with its sights leveled on Sephiroth has employed a similar tactic. He watches, sword brandished, as the space closes between himself and the Shade, antlers coming at him unrelentingly fast. Remains unmoving until the last second, until they seem far too close for comfort, and then he’s sidestepping in a clean dodge. The creature begins to lurch past, and he swings Masamune in a focused cut downwards. The front half of its antlers — the jagged, broken, and dangerous bits — are sheared away like unwanted chaff.

They land in the grass, and Sephiroth turns his body just in time to watch it stumble, momentarily disoriented by the sudden loss. He lifts his eyes just in time to see Maria appear out of seemingly nothing and land a clean blow against her Shade’s flank. It retaliates with a kick that just misses the mark, then twists around to meet her again, but it, too, stumbles with a leg now gone useless.

Sephiroth’s creature is turning around, as well, but he greets it with the sharpened edge of Masamune in a horizontal swing that cuts across its front, gouging deep. It staggers forward and directly down into its own bed of mangled antlers, adding its own collection of puncture wounds.

As the monster scrambles to make purchase against the ground, utterly failing, Sephiroth seems to lose all interest in it. He looks over to Maria and instead moves in her direction, adding his presence as distraction if she needs it. (It doesn’t seem like she does.)]

[whomthebelltolls]

[It's true, she does have the situation handled pretty readily. The beast can't even touch her with her short-range teleport dodging, and her swords are quick and deadly as it rounds on her again, lashing out with front legs that can't connect, and she stays to its flank.

It's an old trick with Beasts, and it seems to work with Shades, as well. Stick to the sides or back if they're not going to kick you there. Gehrman taught her that when she'd first been apprenticed to him, and the worst injuries she'd ever had came from when she deviated from it.

She carves the beast apart with her swords as she dances nimbly about with it, and ends the moment when her swords spark to life with flame, yellow-red along most of the metal, but where it touches the ichor blood of the Shades it flares to an arcane purple-blue-white light.

And then Maria plunges her swords into the creature's side, the flames catching the rotting flesh and dried fur on the creature's side alight and the immolation also apparently beginning from within.

It's only then she turns, still on guard, to the steps approaching from behind her, eyeing first Sephiroth, then the struggling Shade behind him. Well, that seemed handy enough. Even if it's still... moving, if not "alive". Neither of the creatures were much "alive."]

[supersoldier]

[The flame is eye-catching, not only in color and lurid brightness, but in how effectively it quells the danger.  That Shade is as good as dead, literally burning from within, and though it cries out and lashes its limbs in futility, Sephiroth hasn't an ounce of pity for it.  It's as good as an enemy felled, and turning around on his heel to check on the one behind him, the situation is similar. 

Caught on its own antlers, gutted by them, it continues to struggle but its hooves find no purchase.  Sephiroth will grant it no opportunity, stepping forward again and pushing the tip of Masamune deep into its neck.  That silences its cries, its haphazard movements.

With the threat all but gone, he turns to look at her again, expression unaffected by what was, essentially, a straightforward fight.]

Uninjured? 

[whomthebelltolls]

Yes. [Though she does look down to where the kick nearly caught her, to assess if there was any damage to her half-cape. When she's sure that it's come out with little more than a scuff where the hoof hit, she looks between the two Shades.]

Either we've scared them off, or there's more coming to investigate the noise. Do you want to stick around to find out which it is? [It's not a warning, it's a legitimate question. She has no idea what kind of numbers any more Shades will have, if they're drawn by the commotion, and if not... well, they're gonna be doing a lot of twiddling their thumbs.]