[milliways] search and rescue

[bringspeopletogether]

Okay. So. First night in a tavern at the supposed end of the world and he's about to go running into a blizzard to rescue two men he doesn't know.

This is, by far, the most normal part of Alistair's very bizarre evening.

When he asks for equipment, the enchanted bar heaps up piles of furs, three strange lanterns with little clear orbs where a candle would go, a long length of rope, some sort of canvas backpack with the letters SAR stitched on one side, and what looks like a bright red, misshapen crossbow. He frowns at it as he gets to work shrugging on all the necessary layers.

"Do you know what that is?" he asks Chuck.

Comments

[nepetaleijon]

Nepeta ducks low and hunches behind Alistair, slightly out of the wind.

"It's not so bad further under the tr33s," she half-shouts over the noise.

[andinfluencepeople]

"Hopefully everything's found caves," Chuck says, under his breath. He's not excited about this forest thing.

As they get further into the cover of the trees, the sound of the wind dips, and Chuck blinks a bit at the (comparative) visibility. He unsnaps himself from the line.

"Do we want to fan out?"

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair gnaws his lip as he casts an eye over the terrain. Eventually -- reluctantly -- he nods. "Carefully. Stay within sight of one another and keep the lanterns lit."

It's either that or sweep the forest as a group, and while Alistair would be more than comfortable staying in a pack, it'd mean more time in the cold. For them and the missing men both.

[andinfluencepeople]

Chuck moves to the left, radioing in as he does so. "Mission Control, we're in the Forest, sticking to the edges."

He's keeping an equal eye on Alistair as he is on the Forest, lantern held high.

[stilljustandrew]

"Got it," says Andrew's crackling voice. "Any sign of them?"

[andinfluencepeople]

"Not yet." Chuck says, and tucks the radio back. He glances across to the others.

Suddenly, irritated, he shouts to his side of the forest:

"Edgar!"

The snow and trees muffle things, but his voice still rings out with the force of some used to catching someone's attention from across a hangar.

[bringspeopletogether]

...That works too!

Alistair hooks his lantern in the crook of his elbow so he can cup both hands around his mouth. "Curtis!" he bellows. "Edgar! Can you hear us?"

Unadvertised skills of the Grey Wardens: they can yell like nobody's business. Too bad all he and Chuck get back is the faintest echo of their voices. Damn it.

[nepetaleijon]

Eh, Nepeta's not going to waste time trying to yell louder than the two humans.

Now if Karkat were only here, with his expertise at being shouty, that might be worth trying. But that's not to say that Rogue expertise hasn't got its place here too.

"I'm taking anothrawr look up ahead," she says, and flits away between the trees.

[bringspeopletogether]

"Be care -- aaaaand she's gone," Alistair finishes with a sigh, watching Nepeta's lantern bob away into a pinprick of light. "All right then."

He swings his own lantern higher, squinting at the path ahead for any sign of human life. No luck: while there are a couple fresh tracks, they don't look anything like human. He's not completely sure what they look like, though. They're clustered oddly, and the way the whatever-it-is dragged its legs through the snow doesn't look quite --

Something creaks further up ahead.

Alistair pauses.

[andinfluencepeople]

Chuck's half-listening to Alistair as he continues forward, swinging his walking stick through the underbrush.

It's weirdly quiet in here, but Chuck's not that great at weather. Like, birds wouldn't like this snow anymore than he does, right? They're probably all hiding or hibernating or whatever.

At the silence on Alistair's end, he turns back to face him, still moving. "You o--" his ankle hits something cold and thin and he falls forward hard.

"Spiders?" he whispers, at the weird ice-net he's landed himself in. "Spiders!" he shouts as a warning, trying to scramble free.

[comm_npc_2]

A faint crunch comes from up ahead, as of some massive foot settling very slowly into the snow, and another creak.

That's ... that's pretty definitely not Nepeta.

[bringspeopletogether]

In Alistair's experience, when most grown men yell spiders! in that kind of voice, they're not talking about the little ones that stick to dusty corners.

Those ponderous, unsettling footsteps of something very, very large only confirm his suspicions.

Crunch.

Slowly, Alistair unshoulders his pack and lowers it to the snow, not once taking his eyes off the path ahead. A quiet shing follows as he unsheathes both daggers. It's -- well, it's been longer than he'd like since he's worked with anything but a sword and board, but it shouldn't be too bad. Just stab with the pointy bit, right? That part hasn't changed.

Alistair settles into a fighting stance, his breath steaming in the cold.




Crunch.

[andinfluencepeople]

Chuck pulls himself out of the web, limping slightly until he gets the hard threads hooked around his boot off. He ignores the way the threads have bitten into the hard rubber, leaving slices and scars.

The web vibrates, again, and an entirely different set of legs pull themselves onto it, curious to see what it's caught.

Chuck doesn't know it's likely a juvenile, its armor not yet hardened fully into thick spikes, all he knows is --

Well.

"Your web sucks," he tells the spider, low, but he's grinning, all fear faded into a sort of easy readiness. "It isn't even sticky."

[comm_npc_2]

The spider inches forward, off of the web and onto the snow, and raises its forelegs in what might be a threat display. It's about the size of a Shetland pony, legs maybe the thickness of Chuck's wrist; horrifyingly huge for a spider (even for an Australian born and raised), but not really that big as monsters go (especially for someone used to fighting kaiju).

... The much, much larger shadow approaching from between the trees up ahead? Rather more alarming.

[andinfluencepeople]

At first Chuck thought it was going to attack. When it drops onto the snow, he sneaks a glance Alistair's way. That thing looks way worse, and he can't let Ysalwen's friend get killed.

"All right," he says, and backs up away from the creepy spider, "see? I'm going. Calm the fuck down."

[bringspeopletogether]

In a brief, vivid flash, Alistair remembers Lyna guiding them past that high dragon's lair, all of them barely daring to breathe for fear of waking it. Chuck's probably got the right of it: preemptive attacks aren't always worth it. Not when you aren't sure if you can win.

Buuuuut it's probably too late for that now, isn't it.

The next crunch sounds a lot louder. Through the haze of ice, it almost looks like the trees are shifting. One lifts, and falls straight down: crunch.

Alistair looks up. And up.

"Oh, that's not good," he mutters, wide-eyed.

[comm_npc_2]

The adult spider towers over the two humans, armored legs creaking as they bend enough to bring a cluster of glinting eyes to focus on Alistair.

The smaller spider spreads its forelegs again, bringing to bear what might be a set of spinnerets, except --

(This isn't good either.)

Except that what comes out, instead of a stream of webbing fluid, is a thin jet of icy air.

[andinfluencepeople]

Chuck's not used to the monsters being taller than him. Somewhere in his head, he still feels like Striker Eureka, 2000 tons of metal and advanced engineering. It helps.

And they are monsters -- intelligent. Spiders don't chase you, or have bloody ice magic.

He shifts his grip on the stick, so he's holding it almost like a sword, and charges the juvenile. He's aiming for between the two upraised arms. For the eyes, but he's just as willing to snap one of the legs if it blocks.

[bringspeopletogether]

This is probably the point where Lyna would start grinning, if she were here. Alistair can't help it: he grins a little, too, like he's about to let the dragon-sized bug in on a little secret.

(Though...seriously, when he started thinking about dragons, that was not the Maker's cue to churn out a spider the same size as one. Dammit.)

"No, it's all right," he says, quite pleasantly. "Come closer, get a better look, here -- "

And in one swift motion, he slashes both daggers across the spider's eyes.

[comm_npc_2]

Two things happen almost simultaneously:

The smaller spider whips one claw around and seizes the end of Chuck's stick, clamping down on it solidly.

And the bigger one jerks back, letting out a whistling shriek of pain, crystalline ichor leaking from its eye cluster.

As though in answer, the wind gusts sharply, lashing both humans with stinging snow.

[andinfluencepeople]

Chuck doesn't let the interference stop him, using his momentum to carry the stick forward. He probably won't reach the eyes but what the fuck, nobody likes having their limbs forced behind their heads, right? Spidercrab things likely included.

He squints against the harsh wind.

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair's eyes narrow, but it's not just in reaction to the wind. Giant spiders, all right, that's actually kind of normal for him -- it's the very-coincidental snow blast that isn't.

Magic ice spiders. Yeah. That's a new one.

With barely a moment's hesitation, he dives forward, trying to get his daggers into the spider's belly before it raises itself out of reach. If that earns him another blast of snow to the face? Then he'll know for sure.

[comm_npc_2]

And there is, indeed, another blast of snow to the face -- this time not from the swirling storm, but directly from the spinneret-looking spot on the vast spider's abdomen. It's clearly a move of flailing defense as it reacts to the unexpected eye injury; the creature is still staggering slightly, which at its size is not necessarily reassuring.

Chuck's spider, meanwhile, clings to the stick even as its leg is forced backward -- and pays for it almost immediately, as the leg gives way with a sharp bitter snap like a green stick. Its shriek is a thin wail in comparison to the full-grown spider's bellow, but still loud enough to shiver the eardrums.

[andinfluencepeople]

That's the thing about momentum -- it doesn't stop working when you no longer need it. With the abrupt loss of resistance, Chuck careens forwards. His feet slide in the snow as he attempts to stop, the heavy weight still attached to the end of his stick unbalancing him.

He drops it too late, falling and sliding underneath the spider, head thumping against its abdomen as he does.

"Bloody fucking--" he covers his head and neck with his arms, and tries to assess his potential weapons through the noise.

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair's head turns at the shout, just enough to get a glimpse of Chuck and the baby spider. (This has the extra bonus of deflecting some of the full-grown spider's blast. Only half his face gets smacked with a bunch of snow instead of all of it! Take that, giant terrifying magical ice bug!)

It's more to place them on his mental map of the battlefield than anything. He's taking Chuck at his word: the man can take care of himself, and -- aside from the other obvious reason they're out here -- Alistair getting back alive is the top priority of their little group.

If he thinks about that too much, it's really not going to sit well with him.

...If he thinks about that too much, it's also going to end with the giant spider crashing down on him, so let's dive out of the way and stab a few more legs while we're at it! Maybe if Alistair cripples this beast enough, he can toss one of his daggers to Chuck.