Blaze nods, agreeing with those behind her. She’s not privy to all the conversations going on, but it sounds like they’re of much the same mind as she is. The Guardian turns back and lifts her left palm, letting Ghost materialize above it. The little bot floats up to her shoulder, and she waves the vanguard around her closer so she can raise her voice to address them.
“You’re right. This stinks like the inside of a Cabal helmet. But we don’t have a good alternative. The Fallen never came beyond the torch line, so maybe that magic is holding them out along with the storm. We haven’t picked up any distress calls yet. Either way, we’re going to have to trust the others will hold the walls back there.” Have to. There's a deep and unfamiliar fear waiting for her, if she dwells on what might be happening beyond her watch. She gives a snort. “Trust that we’re the bigger targets, I should say. We’ve got at least one thing they want too. Let’s chase them down fast and bust open whatever they’ve got waiting for us. And spread the word down the line – everyone watch their backs. We’re getting ambushed somewhere along this trail.
To Ghost, scanning their surroundings watchfully, she adds, “Radio the scouts. Tell them to follow the trail ahead and get back to us the second they find anything. We need to know what we’re walking into.”
If only they had a Hunter here. She misses Kaolin right now. Any of her brethren. She’s gone weeks without seeing another Guardian at times, but she’s never felt truly cut off from them before. No matter how remote the wilds, no matter how hostile the planet, no matter what eldritch caverns out of time they explored, the Traveler and her kin were always somewhere there behind her. Now… she closes her fist, and the heat spills over it for a moment. A hint of solar fury just beyond her touch. A comforting reminder: the Light is with her, even here.
Still. A Hunter… if they had Kaolin, he’d already be a mile ahead, reporting their enemy’s positions. If he was here, the only thing she’d have to worry about would be him hogging all the good kills. It’s something to make her chuckle, as they resume their march.
The trail isn’t terribly hard to follow, at that (which is not reassuring to many). It leads them further up into the hills and the trees. Objectively, it probably isn’t that much farther out. But every minute brings them palpably further from safety and shelter. Eventually, the scouts will find a wide open clearing in the forest ahead. To the left, it backs onto a sheer cliffside that curves around half the open space. The only sign of their enemy are some alien crates with Fallen markings on them; a metal pole driven into the ground which bears a long vertical banner flapping in the high wind: a sigil that branches downward thin and white, like icicles, on a deep blue field. And behind it... the food is piled high, roughly sorted into different mounds: cans and jars and bags and bottles, all of it frosted with a thin layer of snow where the wind hasn’t swept it away.
Blaze starts calling out orders, though they all know their parts. Scouts to watch their perimeter, escorts to take their positions. Furiosa to move the snowmobile into position; transport crew to load it up. Ghost nudges her to stride in and summon him, so the little bot can verify there aren't any buried explosives within the stockpile.
no subject
“You’re right. This stinks like the inside of a Cabal helmet. But we don’t have a good alternative. The Fallen never came beyond the torch line, so maybe that magic is holding them out along with the storm. We haven’t picked up any distress calls yet. Either way, we’re going to have to trust the others will hold the walls back there.” Have to. There's a deep and unfamiliar fear waiting for her, if she dwells on what might be happening beyond her watch. She gives a snort. “Trust that we’re the bigger targets, I should say. We’ve got at least one thing they want too. Let’s chase them down fast and bust open whatever they’ve got waiting for us. And spread the word down the line – everyone watch their backs. We’re getting ambushed somewhere along this trail.
To Ghost, scanning their surroundings watchfully, she adds, “Radio the scouts. Tell them to follow the trail ahead and get back to us the second they find anything. We need to know what we’re walking into.”
If only they had a Hunter here. She misses Kaolin right now. Any of her brethren. She’s gone weeks without seeing another Guardian at times, but she’s never felt truly cut off from them before. No matter how remote the wilds, no matter how hostile the planet, no matter what eldritch caverns out of time they explored, the Traveler and her kin were always somewhere there behind her. Now… she closes her fist, and the heat spills over it for a moment. A hint of solar fury just beyond her touch. A comforting reminder: the Light is with her, even here.
Still. A Hunter… if they had Kaolin, he’d already be a mile ahead, reporting their enemy’s positions. If he was here, the only thing she’d have to worry about would be him hogging all the good kills. It’s something to make her chuckle, as they resume their march.
The trail isn’t terribly hard to follow, at that (which is not reassuring to many). It leads them further up into the hills and the trees. Objectively, it probably isn’t that much farther out. But every minute brings them palpably further from safety and shelter. Eventually, the scouts will find a wide open clearing in the forest ahead. To the left, it backs onto a sheer cliffside that curves around half the open space. The only sign of their enemy are some alien crates with Fallen markings on them; a metal pole driven into the ground which bears a long vertical banner flapping in the high wind: a sigil that branches downward thin and white, like icicles, on a deep blue field. And behind it... the food is piled high, roughly sorted into different mounds: cans and jars and bags and bottles, all of it frosted with a thin layer of snow where the wind hasn’t swept it away.
Blaze starts calling out orders, though they all know their parts. Scouts to watch their perimeter, escorts to take their positions. Furiosa to move the snowmobile into position; transport crew to load it up. Ghost nudges her to stride in and summon him, so the little bot can verify there aren't any buried explosives within the stockpile.
It’s show time.