The Fallen close in as the group moves together. Some of the smaller ones seem to sense weakness and try to go for Matt directly, but he’s not as out of the fight as he looks – and Sif certainly isn’t. Blades clash and swipe and Matt’s baton cracks down on bone and the hissing, squalling dregs are held at bay. Their compatriots have other – one bigger problem in particular, as Loki in his larger form moves back and forth amid the battle, forcing the Fallen to scatter around him. The chemical smell of their blood hangs in the air with the burnt ozone of discharged weapons, and some of their bodies are slumped in the muddy snow. But they haven’t stopped fighting. Their outsized opponent only seems to inspire greater fervor in their assault, and it’s a good thing for the group that both Sif and Harley’s blades don’t waver.
In the melee Palmer’s managed to sneak closer to the big captain. It helps a bit that the Fallen officer is striding for the others, pistols firing to try and scatter the group again. Palmer’s fire from the side comes as a surprise. He hits the captain in the side and arm and pale vapor wisps out from the wounds. The captain snarls his anger and whirls to shoot at Palmer. At the same moment a loyal vandal spots the human and lunges for him- only to be cut off by Loki’s advance and a slash of his knife. It gives Palmer the opening to rejoin the others and garner a little more safety.
There’s scant chance for the humans and Asgardians to look around. But across the rest of the field the Fallen seem to be disappearing, pulling back. A few are perched up the slope by the trees to watch the show below. But this small portion of the army fights on. The captain flexes his wounded arm, howls to the air, and starts toward Loki with grim fury. His underlings clear a path before him. The team is surrounded, and it’s clear now it’ll be a fight to the death on both sides…
Then something changes. There’s a shout from one Fallen, that ripples through those remaining. The captain halts, eyes on Loki and swords in a guard as a vandal calls out to him. Impossible to read his masked face, but everything in his posture, every guttural syllable he growls out in answer screams frustrated anger. Then, reluctantly, he crouches down, blue cape crumpling against the mud. Immediately his subordinates spring away from their opponents and do likewise. In a glimmer of white light, every living Fallen around them dematerializes- followed by every other Fallen in sight. Only the corpses and scattered equipment remain. And then, as engines roar above them and the ships reappear hovering overhead, the dead and the broken too begin to vanish.
The battle, it seems, has been won. But as to who is victorious…
no subject
In the melee Palmer’s managed to sneak closer to the big captain. It helps a bit that the Fallen officer is striding for the others, pistols firing to try and scatter the group again. Palmer’s fire from the side comes as a surprise. He hits the captain in the side and arm and pale vapor wisps out from the wounds. The captain snarls his anger and whirls to shoot at Palmer. At the same moment a loyal vandal spots the human and lunges for him- only to be cut off by Loki’s advance and a slash of his knife. It gives Palmer the opening to rejoin the others and garner a little more safety.
There’s scant chance for the humans and Asgardians to look around. But across the rest of the field the Fallen seem to be disappearing, pulling back. A few are perched up the slope by the trees to watch the show below. But this small portion of the army fights on. The captain flexes his wounded arm, howls to the air, and starts toward Loki with grim fury. His underlings clear a path before him. The team is surrounded, and it’s clear now it’ll be a fight to the death on both sides…
Then something changes. There’s a shout from one Fallen, that ripples through those remaining. The captain halts, eyes on Loki and swords in a guard as a vandal calls out to him. Impossible to read his masked face, but everything in his posture, every guttural syllable he growls out in answer screams frustrated anger. Then, reluctantly, he crouches down, blue cape crumpling against the mud. Immediately his subordinates spring away from their opponents and do likewise. In a glimmer of white light, every living Fallen around them dematerializes- followed by every other Fallen in sight. Only the corpses and scattered equipment remain. And then, as engines roar above them and the ships reappear hovering overhead, the dead and the broken too begin to vanish.
The battle, it seems, has been won. But as to who is victorious…