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

[tryhard]

Despite Waver's grumpiness at being lowkey called out as a weakling (she's not... wrong though...), it's probably a good thing they did things this way. It seems the cart is pretty heavy after all.

Waver takes the offered hand with his less-greasy one, grunting as he climbs to his feet. He reaches for the rag next to wipe off, meticulously cleaning under his claws.

"It must be very different living life like this after being a Heroic Spirit. Do you prefer it? Or do you miss being how you were before?"

He asks, turning grey-green eyes to her curiously. He knows Iskandar's a bit torn on the matter, and some others who were Servants before. Though he can't relate, he is interested in hearing their viewpoints.

[arturiarex]

Saber watches him with a sense of curiosity and wonders if one day she'll have to be cleaning her own claws. It's not a particularly pleasant thought, but one she needs to consider all the same. After all, it's a fact of life here, isn't it? His question pulls her gaze away and she focuses on him with a blink.

"...I think I prefer it. If only because if I was a Servant, I would still have an opportunity to attain my goal."

What that goal is is left very clearly unsaid.

[tryhard]

He does try to keep them trimmed, but the damn things love to grow out. It's annoying.

Waver sets the rag aside and turns to look over the wagon again, double checking there's nothing glaring they need to be helping out with on it that can be done while chatting. He's already been scolded once for not doing enough to help out, and they need to get everything ready as soon as possible.

"I see. I'm sorry you've been waylaid in such a place, then."

He could hear some of the conversation they'd been having when Iskandar had invited them all to drink together, but if she doesn't want to share, he's not going to pry.

[arturiarex]

"It cannot be helped," Saber replies, although there's a certain stiffness in her shoulders as she wipes her hands with a rag. It's something that can't be changed now - at least not immediately. She'll try to find a way, but... it's not what she wanted. But isn't that normal for her life?

"While I am here, I will do my best to assist you and everyone else - it's the least I can do. From what I hear, you may have need of a sword arm."

[tryhard]

"Yes. And I'm sure you're far better qualified than I am... so I'm certain your assistance will be appreciated by everyone."

As a Monster himself, it would be logical for Waver to have joined the expedition to assist the Witches and provide strength to clear their path and help set up the new outpost. Such would be the assumption with most other Turnskins and similar Monsters known for their strength, at least, but as Saber pointed out earlier, Waver doesn't exactly cut an imposing figure, even now. He's grown a bit rougher around the edges by necessity, but the short sword he carries at his hip looks unnatural on him, as new and strange as the ink etched in his skin.

"Have you been into the Wilde yet?"

[arturiarex]

"Not as of yet; this will be my first time out," Saber replies with a shake of her head, "I would like to see it with my own eyes. It seems to our opponent here. Much like the beast we slew."

Which is not a pleasant memory, but it's the closest thing she can think of.

"Have you? Can you tell me what to expect?

[tryhard]

Our opponent here.

Iskandar has decided much the same thing. And so, Waver has joined him on this expedition to learn more about their common foe and assist the Wilders. It isn't the first time, and of course they had all known from the start that the Cwyld was a dark force that needed to be dealt with and fended off in any way possible-- but ever since Waver's return from the hospital, it has felt like more of a solid direction. Iskandar had declared the Cwyld their enemy, and his own intentions of defeating it.

He nods his agreement, and his answer to Saber's question.

"I have. I've gone with the Wilders before, though not often, and never as far as I believe we're meant to go on this expedition. You're right that the Cwyld is a terrible enemy. Rider is intent on its defeat as well, and I'm sure he'd be glad to hear you feel similarly."

It is a common foe, but it's never a bad idea to gain more allies.

"As for what to expect... I'm sure you've already heard. Infected wilderness, and the further we go past the already-cleared areas, the worse it'll probably be. There are mad beasts called Shades who have succumbed to the infection. They're very aggressive, and not particularly pretty... Other than that, I'm not sure what other dangers there might be. Last time, there were infected pools of water too, and plants-- you just have to be really careful and listen to the experienced Wilders."

[arturiarex]

"Perhaps I will have a chance to meet him again and ask him how he fares," Saber muses. Rider had not been unpleasant, although their philosophies had clashed, quite badly. He had been honorable, though, and prepared to do what he thought was right, as well as join forces against a more terrible foe. She respects him - even if she is not sure she likes him. She listens to Waver in silence, mentally noting all that he says. It's interesting to consider that her opponent will be the very landscape and animal around her.

Difficult, really.

"I will be sure to listen to them. I hunted, once upon a time, so I am not completely ill at ease in the wilds. Still... it is different and I will keep that in mind."

She gives him an appraising look, "I imagine Rider will be looking after you."

[tryhard]

"We'll be looking after each other," Waver clarifies bluntly, crossing his arms over his chest and meeting her eyes squarely. He doesn't seem to appreciate the insinuation that he can't look after himself without Rider's help. Especially after being asked for advice.

[arturiarex]

Woops. Saber blinks for a moment, slightly taken aback. She has the decency to look a little sheepish and she dips her head in a nod that's almost, but not not quite, a bow.

"...I apologize. I spoke without thinking. And I must remember this is not a Grail War."

[tryhard]

Waver looks a little startled, himself. He hadn't really been expecting the apology.

But he only takes a moment, nodding, and seems to relax.

"Of course it isn't. It's a different sort of fight." Waver looks her over again, a bit awkward, uncrossing his arms. He almost reaches out with a hand, as if to shake hers, but then doesn't, merely letting his arms fall to his sides. Instead, he dips his head-- a little more than a nod, not quite a bow as well.

"...and we'll be fighting side by side this time, as long as you share his goal."

This is getting awkward. Antsy, Waver looks away, glancing around for something else to do. There's a pile of boxes that need moving onto the wagon; he steps toward them.

"Come on. We'll get yelled at if we keep standing around talking."

[arturiarex]

"Of course. Let's get started."

Saber turns back to the cart. There's work to do and she would rather focus on it than get too sidetracked. Waver is different and the same and it's not quite a puzzle, but it is a little strange. Between the two of them they make short work of the loading and they go their separate ways. She doesn't think much of it - besides seeing him around camp occasionally - until the day comes when the witches are trying to call up the power of the leylines. Saber, as always, stands ready to protect them and it's apparently necessary to do so when the shades come calling.

Excalibur is drawn, her body is taut, prepared to spring into action - and she spots a familiar set of ears.

"Waver!" She calls out to him, "It seems as if we will have a chance to fight alongside one another."

[tryhard]

Truth be told, there's a lingering sense of awkwardness as they work together, but it doesn't really interfere with what they have to do-- mostly with conversation, limited to vague smalltalk and Waver answering Saber's questions about the Wilde or even Aefenglom, maybe Dorchacht if he asks. He offers his contact information before they part, and assurance that he can answer questions occasionally if she finds herself in need. Waver had meant what he said; they're not enemies here. If Saber is amenable to this sort-of alliance, he's happy for it. He will, of course, let Iskandar know as much too, hopefully pleasing him as well.

Eventually, they part ways. The company is rather large this time around, and the journey is long and hardly easy. Waver sees Saber a few times, mostly in passing, when they're setting up camp. He sees other familiar faces too, some of them less of a pleasant surprise, but he manages to keep mostly to himself and to Iskandar without shunning his duties when it comes to lending a hand.

Until the day they need to cleanse the leyline. Waver's number one priority is protecting Iskandar, and so he hangs near, the sword looking strange in his hands. He's near the back of the loose circle the Wilders have formed around the Witches, backup more than someone ready to jump into the fray.

His eyes are on the sky, watching threats from above as the front lines take care of any grounded Shades coming at them from the forest.

"Saber." Waver looks over at her, relief clear in his eyes. Iskandar won't be far, but he's very clearly busy. "This is more of a literal fight than I was hoping for, but... I can't say I'm unhappy to see you. And your sword."

He makes a noise, a nervous snort of a laugh, shaking his head.

"Most of what I know is self-defense, not offensive. I don't think the wolves or bears will reach this far easily, but there are some winged ones-- There!"

[arturiarex]

"Then I will have to be offensive for the both of us," Saber smiles thinly, "But do yourself proud, Waver."

His warning shout attracts her attention and she glances up as a group of winged shades - she doesn't know what they used to be - come winging in over the dead trees and then start to drop with croaks and shrieks. They're coming straight for them and it's up to them to make sure they don't get through.

If she were still a Servant, this would be trivial. However, she's back to being "merely" human (or a monster) and so she eases back a few steps to try and gauge their dives.

"Handle the one on the right-"

Excalibur flashes in the light as she whips it around and neatly side-steps, slicing through one of the first ones that comes screaming down at her.

[tryhard]

They clearly can't be dragons, but they hardly look like birds at this point either, the darkness beneath the shadows looking more like oily black leather than anything with feathers now.

Waver grunts in response to Saber's suggestion, gripping his sword tighter and raising it up. His form's probably not great; he really isn't used to fighting anything from above.

He's about to get a very real and very immediate lesson.

"Shit--!" Waver stumbles back when the Shade's talons strike his sword, the noise clanging as if it were steel on steel.

But hey. At least he stopped it. For now.

"Saber!"

[arturiarex]

Saber turns back, sword dripping blood and an oily black substance that she tries to shake from it. Her eyes take in the situation and she starts toward him.

"High guard-!" She calls out, sword held low at her side for an upward cut, "Use your point to keep it at bay!"

It's like she's overseeing knights in training again. Except this is very much a hands-on, potentially deadly lesson.

[tryhard]

Waver cries out again, something that might have been a curse word if it wasn't garbled and mostly incoherent yelling as he tries to hold the thing back. At Saber's shout, he tries to follow directions -- thinking briefly, painfully of Geralt, of what he'd say, of how he'd do this -- so that he shoves the point of his sword upward and out. The intention is to makes sure the creature's talons can't get a good grip or angle to force the blade back on him, and if it cuts the thing in the process, even better.

But it's strong. Waver stumbles backward, fighting to keep his balance, before finding his ground so he can shove all his strength into thrusting the sword forward. The point stabs into the Shade's dark body, hard. Its piercing shriek shatters through the air like broken glass, making Waver wince.

[arturiarex]

At least he's responding well enough to her shouted instructions. She is all deadly calm and seriousness as she comes toward him, watching as he stumbles. She picks up the pace, darting forward just as the Shade shrieks aloud. She winces slightly, but keeps going, not hesitating. There is no spark behind this thing; just a creeping infection. The sword swings up in an arc and silences it, pieces of the creature falling to the earth.

"Are you hurt?"

[tryhard]

As soon as her sword strikes the creature, Waver reels back, his own blade yanking free with a dull, wet noise as he staggers out of the way. He barely manages to dodge the rain of infected flesh unpleasantly dropping to the ground around them.

As soon as he's able to, Waver moves closer to Saber again, breath heavy and heart pounding in the rush of the fight.

"N-no... I'm not hurt." He sounds vaguely startled by this fact, taking quick stock of the lack of pain or injury. Amazingly, he managed to hold the thing back, even if it was only for a few moments.

"Thank you."

[arturiarex]

"Good," Saber replies grimly. She holds her hand down to him, her attention still on the skies, "Get back up. There will be more."

She doesn't mean to be cruel or anything of the sort, but battle is not a time when one can exactly take a break.

"I will accept your thanks when we have finished."

[tryhard]

Waver takes her hand, steadying himself. He doesn't argue, nor does he seem offended; it's clear enough she's only speaking practically, considering the circumstances.

Both of his hands return to his own sword.

"You're right. It's gonna be a while."

But, a little selfishly, he's glad to have Saber with him. Even when she's not a Servant, she definitely knows what she's doing. Waver appreciates her watching his back-- and Iskandar surely will appreciate the same.

[arturiarex]

Saber nods and turns back outward, watching the skies for more attackers. It's likely to be a long day, but at least they have a chance to catch their breath.

"Once this is over, if you would like more instruction in how to use a blade, I would be happy to offer my services."

Which isn't a knock on his current skills, just something she's very good at it and wouldn't mind passing on.

[tryhard]

It might not be a knock against him in any way, but it still stings a little. It's not that Waver thinks he's any good at fighting, though; he knows his skills lie elsewhere and any ability he has with blades was meant for self-defense at best. But the offer reminds him of Geralt, and that hurts, the flash of memories, the training sessions they'd had and how Geralt had helped him--

Waver says nothing of what he's thinking, and instead only nods.

As more Shades begin to gather overhead, he squares himself and readies his sword, stepping behind Saber both to watch her back and let her take the lead.

"If you're offering, I won't refuse."

But, for now, they have more immediate problems to take care of first.

[arturiarex]

"Very well. We'll speak later."

It will actually take them a little while to get around to it, but they're understandably both distracted. For now, there's a fight to be fought and won. As the first of the next wave descends on them, Saber raises her sword with a shout.

They'll be doing this for the rest of the day - or at least until the witches finish their business. And by the end of it they'll likely both be exhausted, but that's a part of fulfilling their duty, isn't it?