With their own lights down and the wind covering their engines the convoy tries to creep into the woodlands unseen. The lights far off through the trees are strange – they don’t look like vehicle headlights or torches. They’re pale, flickering like icy will o’ wisps as they glide between distant trees, and the wind now and then bears the echo of distorted voices. Blaze’s attention swivels round and she stops to watch them carefully, letting the expedition move on past her for a bit. She says something to the vanguard about- servers? It’s hard to hear over the wind. Hard to tell whether she’s worried or just fighting the desire to go chase those distant lights.
But they don’t seem to be heading for the expedition-goers, fortunately. It's a pack of shanks, floating robots about a foot across, who spot the tail of the convoy trailing through the snow. They come out of the darkness with little yellow optics aglow, five of them, sounding high electronic trills as they spot their prey and fan out with shock blasters ready to fire. Blaze is going to be annoyed she was away at the front, but she is far from the only warrior itching for something to hit on this trip...
Trying to avoid any further notice, they lead the convoy on a detour into rougher terrain. It’s hillier and rockier, but the snow has smoothed over much of their path for them. And as they move into the hilly outskirts of the wood, they find places sheltered from the worst of the storm, where the winds drop and the snow falls gentler. They cut through an orchard, and the trees lining the path bear ghostly pears and apples sculpted in glassy ice; the leaves glitter with silver frost as the gale lifts them. It’s almost quiet here, but for the engines thrumming over the soft winds. The hills around them are lined with copses of barren trees, tall and jagged, stark shadows against the grey sky. If someone looks up at the wrong time, they may glimpse one of those trees move, become a dark, hunched figure slouching out of view into the woods. That doesn’t look like any Fallen…
Another turn, and they find the Escher falls frozen in their strange interlocking courses, bound by ice where gravity has always failed. There’s a glimpse of color to their right, where the snow clouds take on a rainbow tinge and the snow seems to be falling red and purple and gold; someone mentions the origami fields. Now and then black feathers rustle in the shadowed branches, sharp eyes watching them over sharp beaks. The scouts are quick to lead them back onto the approved path, however. They don’t want to risk surprises, and even with the deeper snow this route is quicker. As the gloomy dawn finally takes hold, they’re drawing near to the enemy camp. Blaze calls back the warning to get ready. Everyone knows their own job – watch the flanks, get in and load the trailer, secure the ropes, get their cargo the hell out of there. Or draw the guards off. Blaze is heading in with the vanguard, but the scouts are circling in first. They’re going to lure the Fallen’s attention-
And it they who are first to find the ugly surprise. The camp is empty. Looted clean, but for a few grafittied shipping containers, pieces of scrap... and the hints of a trail.
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But they don’t seem to be heading for the expedition-goers, fortunately. It's a pack of shanks, floating robots about a foot across, who spot the tail of the convoy trailing through the snow. They come out of the darkness with little yellow optics aglow, five of them, sounding high electronic trills as they spot their prey and fan out with shock blasters ready to fire. Blaze is going to be annoyed she was away at the front, but she is far from the only warrior itching for something to hit on this trip...
Trying to avoid any further notice, they lead the convoy on a detour into rougher terrain. It’s hillier and rockier, but the snow has smoothed over much of their path for them. And as they move into the hilly outskirts of the wood, they find places sheltered from the worst of the storm, where the winds drop and the snow falls gentler. They cut through an orchard, and the trees lining the path bear ghostly pears and apples sculpted in glassy ice; the leaves glitter with silver frost as the gale lifts them. It’s almost quiet here, but for the engines thrumming over the soft winds. The hills around them are lined with copses of barren trees, tall and jagged, stark shadows against the grey sky. If someone looks up at the wrong time, they may glimpse one of those trees move, become a dark, hunched figure slouching out of view into the woods. That doesn’t look like any Fallen…
Another turn, and they find the Escher falls frozen in their strange interlocking courses, bound by ice where gravity has always failed. There’s a glimpse of color to their right, where the snow clouds take on a rainbow tinge and the snow seems to be falling red and purple and gold; someone mentions the origami fields. Now and then black feathers rustle in the shadowed branches, sharp eyes watching them over sharp beaks. The scouts are quick to lead them back onto the approved path, however. They don’t want to risk surprises, and even with the deeper snow this route is quicker. As the gloomy dawn finally takes hold, they’re drawing near to the enemy camp. Blaze calls back the warning to get ready. Everyone knows their own job – watch the flanks, get in and load the trailer, secure the ropes, get their cargo the hell out of there. Or draw the guards off. Blaze is heading in with the vanguard, but the scouts are circling in first. They’re going to lure the Fallen’s attention-
And it they who are first to find the ugly surprise. The camp is empty. Looted clean, but for a few grafittied shipping containers, pieces of scrap... and the hints of a trail.