There was a weakness to long life to be recognized here for Ulric, something to keep in mind when dealing with the races who could persist for centuries. Patterns. Habits. Tendencies of thought and deed worn into near instinct by their repetition could limit the expression of creativity or restrict the ability to adapt to novel situations, where those same habits would have been exceedingly valuable under familiar circumstances. Geyrt had not, apparently, put much stock into the more arcane aspects of her craft, relying instead on a different skill set. Even though she'd been versed in their application, she hadn't thought to incorporate or adapt those arcane skills to a different use, beyond that of her direct instruction. A terribly competent expert in her domain could be rendered almost pitiful by the advent of a situation too far outside her experience.
Ulric lightly clapped his hands, as he had seen Bald'rt do on occasion when a hard transition was necessary and there seemed no way to make it happen but through force of will. Loudly enough, to get the group's attention, but softly enough to, hopefully, draw no unwanted attention from outside the little stand their group huddled in.
"Well, I, for one, am glad we've got this sorted out. Can you reestablish this link later?”
The former Hunter gave a long blink of her almond-shaped eyes before her features firmed and she nodded her affirmative.
“Alright then, it’s well past midday and we’ve already figured out that we shouldn’t fuck around too close to dark. Let's get back to camp in one piece. We'll reconvene with the other group there and game plan for tomorrow if that sounds like a reasonable course of action to you all." Ulric said, with as carefully positive a tone as possible.
Too cheerful and they'd know he was bullshitting. Too honest, and his Shadow would begin to suspect he meant to bury her in the woods somewhere. Gotta toe that line sometimes, he thought to himself.
Christ gestured in the affirmative, "It will be good to get out of this place, a creeping feeling of badness weighs on me. There are far too many fell creatures in the crowns of the [Godtrees]."
Given an out, Geyrt seemed relieved to lead them back out into the wilds where gods knew what kind of ravening monsters awaited. The silence heaviness of the air seemed ever so slightly mocking to Ulric's mind.
The party ventured back along their own trail, invisible as it was, at least for Ulric's senses. They had disturbed little vegetation, and the hard-packed snow, which showed signs of melting and refreezing into a dense sheet, was almost unaltered by the light passage of their measured steps.
The cold air was somewhat muted up here, despite the altitude. Ulric was sure it was thanks to the insulative properties of the snow, trapping what little heat was available within the almost tunnels of the canopy roads. The reflected light within these paths was a far cry from the ever-dim plateau below. Ulric kept his eyes scanning the snow below his footing and off to the canopy forest to his left, trusting Christ to be doing the same reconnaissance to his right. In the rear, Twin Two kept the rear guard. Geyrt, was keeping the point and directing the party.
Something ticked in Ulric's brain causing him to stop. Geyrt's hand rose a fraction of a second later but before either of them could give outcry the snow-laden brush exploded around the troop, crystalline powder shrouding the waste high forms that burst forth, all snarls and teeth.
The first of the creatures jumped Twin Two, having angled the attack mostly from behind the group. Three of them charged the elf faster than anyone would have expected of what looked like wolf sized weasels, mottled white and tan fur having hidden them in the snow shadows of their surroundings. Decades of experience saved the warrior's life, his spear turning to line up with the lead beast by sheer muscle memory, skewering the creature through and through. Barely a sound did it make as it died, but its weight and mass pulled the spear from Twin Two's grasp, nearly driving the butt into his crotch, forcing him to turn awkwardly. The second beast, a few steps behind the first, leapt to latch on to Twin Two's arm at the elbow while the third a bare moment later grabbed the opposite leg and both thrashed back and forth viciously, razored sawing teeth trying to rend flesh from bone. Only the sturdy armor and physical robustness of the warrior saved the limbs from being severed immediately. Yelling under the assault, he managed to get his knife free and start hammering it into the back of the beast that attacked his arm.
Geyrt saved Twin Two from being toppled, her arrow whistling past Ulric's ear to bury itself to the fletches in the [Polar Weasel] savaging his leg, striking the neck just above powerful shoulders. The glassresin broadhead did terrible work to the beast's innards and it yowled, falling to the snow below snapping at the buried shaft, rolling violently before stilling.
Simultaneously, two more of the creatures rushed Ulric, clawing free of the brush a mere four meters away and he heard more coming from Christ's flank but he couldn't spare the attention to know anything other than that they were in deep shit. Far less practiced, less intuitive with his weapon, Ulric only managed to line the long-ago captured trident he carried with the leading creature well enough to achieve a glancing strike of one tine across its shoulder, it was too fast. It ignored the wound, dark red blood pulsing out of the torn flesh, and its oncoming body pushed his spear shaft out of alignment and completely out of usefulness. Claws and teeth raked across the hard bone plates of his cuirass, producing a horrible screeching grating sound that just added to the adrenaline shiver already racing up his spine, as they tried to open his stomach.
Christ yelled out, some Elvish curse. Ulric couldn't see, the second beast jumped, mouth wide, its maw of jagged teeth diving to take his throat.
Using the metal shaft as a barrier he caught the leaping creature across its snout and neck, absorbing its momentum, and blocking the one below from finding an easy attack angle, grinding the metal butt into the ground, even as his feet slipped, betrayed by the snow beneath and the fury of the attacking creatures. Yelling, Ulric fell to the ground, the world narrowing down to the two creatures snapping and biting about him. The soft crystalline light hardened, and the gentle curves and shadows of branches, snow drifts, and tree trunks took on sharp edges as his vision tracked his fall. Distantly he thought he heard his Shadow crying out. No time. His back hit the snowpack with the [Polar Weasel] on top of him and he felt its partner clamp down on his greave, the bone plate grinding against its teeth and sharp teeth painfully gouging into his calf, but unable to deeply penetrate the absurdly strong [Forest Lord] hide. He couldn't do anything about the one on his leg, the animal on top of him was trying to get past his spear to rip into his face and getting closer to achieving that than Ulric in his oddly detached mental space was comfortable with.
[Warrior's Instinct], yet again, saved his life, the manifestation of calm within the storm of violence around him turning from frenzied chaos into an almost serene clarity. Ulric had to kill the one on top of him or have his face bitten off. The long, metal trident was delaying the inevitable but preventing him from leveraging an advantage, pinned between the creature and his body as it was. Once again, the three-meter length of the weapon proved a disadvantage for him, absent the skill to wield it properly and utilize its range. A problem to solve another day, if there was one.
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Ulric shoved hard on the haft of the trident, pushing the heavy animal away before releasing the handle and grabbing the beast's thick pelt and an ear in his gauntleted hands. Ignoring the attempts to savage his leg, he adjust his grip on the struggling monster on top of him, driving his armored forearm up under its muzzle while the painful grip on its ear kept it from completing the lunges at his exposed neck. Muscles bursting with adrenaline-fueled strength he turned the beast's head away from his body, his free leg finally found purchase on the snow beneath and he twisted his entire body, rotating the foul creature's head around while screaming wordless rage. The bones of its spine gave suddenly and it yowled, abruptly cut off, as its head turned free, nerves suddenly severed. The monster's weight sprawled down on him, limp form draping loosely across his chest. The worrying at his leg abruptly stopped but he could see nothing beyond the pelt of the gods be damned monster on top of him and he threw it off him as he rose to his knees, preparing to catch the other one rushing for his head.
The sight in front of him showed the creature that had been attacking his legs dead, three arrows buried in its chest and neck. Geyrt's work then. Ulric couldn't spare a moment though, behind the arm that was still raised from her draw, fingers pressed to lips where she'd released her arrow, was the form of a [Polar Weasel] crouched to leap at her exposed back.
"Behind!" Ulric screamed his hand raising even as the monster's gathered spring unfolded, slamming into her light form, the pair of them crashing to the ground.
Ulric's core surged, brought to life as his will pulled mana into form, the boiling fervor of Incendere giving way under his command. Flame swirled into dense shards of pure heat, three radiant jewels that erupted forth.
[Cinder Pearl]
Streaking flames buried themselves in the creature that was darting forward to bite into his Shadow's head. The shimmering trails of superheated air hinted at the energy carried but the devastation unleashed on the [Polar Weasel] revealed the spell form's nature. Jewels of flame were so hot that blood and tissue flashed to vapor, even as they created explosive pressure, detonating forcefully. The monster came apart under the power of the three brilliant shards of solid fire that erupted inside it. Where there had been a monster before now there was a set of legs and bits of smoking flesh that spattered the canopy.
Geyrt Iriel lay unharmed, other than her ungraceful sprawl from the force of the tackle. As she proved, when she bounced to her feet, cursing violently, and drew an arrow nearly faster than Ulric could follow. The woman was much stronger than she looked, pulling that mighty bow to its full draw in an instant. However, there was nothing to give the gift of her ire. The forest had returned to its crystalline peace, their assailants, a pack of nine [Polar Weasels] were all dead.
From the moment it started to this one couldn't have been more than half a minute. Ulric was still juiced up, body shivering from the adrenaline dump, ready to fight and kill until he realized that the threat was gone. It required a dedicated effort to bring himself down, which exercise of will was mirrored by the others as he saw them each leave the combat rush behind. With deep even breaths, the world of too-hard edges and sharp colors faded back to its soft features.
Their sole casualty was Twin Two, having taken the brunt of the ambush. He lay on the ground bleeding heavily from ripped limbs. Christ had killed three of the beasts without taking a wound, his status as the youngest of the royal guard well earned, each of the monsters was killed with razor lines across throats and clean stabs that drove cleanly through bodies to find hearts. Christ was already crouched over their wounded comrade, applying tourniquets to the limbs and applying salves to the deep rents in Twin Two's flesh. His left arm and right leg were in bad shape, the sharp teeth of those monsters left hideous wounds, once they'd torn through the leather armor.
Ulric looked down at his wickedly bruised leg, which had been subjected to the same sort of mauling as Twin Two's, and gave thanks to the [Forest Lord]; without that great mad beast's hide, he would have suffered the same fate. The warrior wasn't going to be walking anywhere, anytime soon. Unless the Elves had better medical care than he was aware of, which, to their credit, was likely, Twin Two would have a good chance of losing that leg, it was a disaster. Ulric and Geyrt approached the fallen elf, keeping their distance so as not to crowd Christ in his efforts.
"What can we do to help you Christ?" Ulric ventured cautiously, not wanting to distract the elf but also wanting to be useful if there was some way to contribute.
A quick shake of his head and a brusque "Keep watch and make ready to travel swiftly." was all the captain of their party could offer.
Twin Two took it like a champ, the brave soldier not even grunting when his bleeding flesh was salved and bandaged, even though it must have hurt excruciatingly. His pallor betrayed the anguish but the elf refused to worsen their position by crying out, which might have drawn the attention of more monsters, already no doubt a risk from the sounds of the fight. In a few minutes Christ had done all that might be done here in the wilds. He left Twin Two to recover from the treatment and approached Ulric and Geyrt.
"He needs a healer, maybe a team of healers. Their spellwork will be the only thing that saves the leg and probably the arm too. We must get Darla back to camp and transport him to Irielhos, as soon as possible. I am sorry Glade Chief, but life is in jeopardy we cannot wait to escort your belongings." Said the diligent young warrior in a hushed whisper.
"Hell with my stuff! It'll sit there as long as it needs to. Let's get our guy home and safe." Exclaimed Ulric, trying and failing to stay calm.
There was a lot of blood in that clearing. A bunch of it was Twin Two's. As if triggered by that thought, Twin Two's head fell back and he was unconscious.
"Heartwood preserve us!" Christ exclaimed, going to check on the injured elf. "We must be gone from here. Ulric, you must carry him, no offense intended Glade Chief, but I and your Shadow are of more value in scouting the way. Also, you can fight without your weapons, your spells might be necessary to destroy some of these Lesser beasts before they can close with us, as they did against that creature that attacked your Shadow." Christ said, voice raising despite his attempts to stay calm.
Ulric didn't say anything but went to fireman carry Twin Two, standing easily with the elf's weight on his shoulders.
"We ready?" he asked. At the nods of his Shadow and Christ they left the corpses where they lie and made haste.
Geyrt must have blamed herself somewhat for the ambush, unreasonable as that was, the monsters were in their home turf and were indistinguishable from the surroundings while they lay in ambush. She pushed a hard pace for herself, roving forward and doubling back to lead the way.
Ulric was never so grateful for the horseshit stats he carried. There was no way he could have carried the wounded elf otherwise through this winding terrain, slick with snow, at an ironman pace. Christ kept his sword, a meter-long bladed oversized estoc, at hand. The large thrusting blade had nevertheless startlingly sharp edges and his grim features made it clear he meant to use them if anything came screaming out of the brush to assault the group.
He couldn't help but question his responses, his lack of experience. Two fucking weasels? That's nearly all it had taken to punch his ticket. And, worse, he'd been so slow about dealing with them Geyrt had had to pull his biscuits out of the oven and almost got her head bitten off for the trouble, even though she probably would have handled it untouched if not for having to worry about him. He could have used lightning on the one that jumped him. Hell, he could have used [Voltaic Riot] to shred both of them, the destructive power of a souped up arc welder wasn't to be underestimated. Or [Windblade], which he could have used to kill both of the shaggy monsters yoweling for his blood and also could have looped around Geyrt to take the one behind her, all at once, now that he could guide the six or seven Caelum blades along wires of wind magic. Stupid. Slow. Bad. Over and over he played the attack, trying to ingrain it into him. Grimly, he shook off the negative thoughts.
Later, he'd punish himself later. For now, keep your damned head on a swivel and try not to fuck up any harder, Ulric scolded, and put his eyes to work doing that while he carried the wounded Elf.
Once, his Shadow came back from one of her forward advances splashed in fresh blood, some creature that bled blue, apparently, but said nothing about it. She'd only shrugged at Ulric's inquisitive raise of eyebrows. Well, if it wasn't a problem, then it wasn't a problem.
Radiance faded from the ethereal forest upon a forest as the party worked their way back to camp. Twin Two woke up briefly and apologized to Ulric for burdening the expedition to which Ulric told him to shut up and try to bleed less. The tough elf smiled briefly through his pain but the jarring and blood loss sent him back unconscious soon enough. Ulric was doing his best but the terrain made it impossible to carry a man smoothly, too much brush, too many changes in level, too unsteady a footing. Still, other than a flash of motion that drew an arrow from Geyrt like a magnet draws iron filings, a fading screech of mortal injury that faded into the distance, they met no other resistance. The climb down to the plateau floor was easier than the ascent, Ulric's driven stakes and the tie-off ropes proving invaluable to getting the injured elf down with a minimum of banging around.
They made camp with an hour of daylight left. Christ immediately relieved Ulric of the wounded warrior and set Geyrt to help him make a litter while Ulric went to get a fire going and boil water. These tasks had been accomplished about the time that the second party made their way back to camp. They had fared even worse than Ulric's group.