04-27-2017, 10:23 AM
Kelly's first impression of the Green was dominated by the sharp, soft scent of wet vegetation. The quiet, insistent patter of water dripping from one leaf to another, and from there to the sodden earth, was the only sound int he world. It had rained recently, probably quite hard, and the sky remained bruised and angry, threatening at any moment to launch a fresh meteorological tantrum.
The gate opened onto a broad clearing furnished with a dense carpet of ankle-high ferns. Fluffy fronds and little spiral shoots presenting every shade of verdant hue lay beaten down by the recent storm, flexible and unbroken, but momentarily subdued.
Beyond the ferns lay the forest, a wall of tangled trunks and creeping ivy, brown and black and gray among the omnipresent green. Oaks stood shoulder-to-shoulder with walnuts and elms, and even a few maple trees, battling the green stems and choking grasp of lesser flora. It crowded around the edges of the clearing, younger, smaller growth filling the gaps between the mighty, gnarled trunks of the older trees, sending probing limbs out into the overcast clearing as though eager to see what fresh fool had emerged from the Nexus gate.
The Tangled Green, more than any other 'verse Kelly had been to so far, was alive. For the moment it was quiet, stunned in the wake of the storm, but it didn't feel empty; It felt patient - as though at any moment it could rise to sudden action. Standing before the gate, the psychic's higher senses only reached to the edge of the clearing, but even in that limited sphere there hid an entire ecosystem. Leaving aside the abundance of ferns, already beginning to stir as their springy stems recovered from the battering rain, there were snakes, insects, small mammals huddled beneath the soil. He could see their thermal signatures, taste their kirlian glow, feel the subtle radio-spectrum pressures of the their simple neurology. They were like little stars, surprisingly complex, shining softly among the fractal fronds of their tiny, fern-based cosmos.
Kelly increased his neural clock-speed and spared a long moment to appreciate them. The denizens that lurked within the woods wouldn't be nearly so benign.
And that's without even accounting for whatever defenses Nebula may have prepared...
Snapping back into a the normal flow of events, Kelly walked the perimeter of the clearing, plucking leafy sticks and stems from the brush, weaving them into his hair and looping them through his belt. Dirt and plant-matter stained his fingers, and the smell of sap and fresh chlorophyll wafted from the organic elements of his disguise.
In most places, the undergrowth was so dense as to be impenetrable without a machete, and even then progress would be laughably slow. Even at the edge of his extrasensory perceptions, few clear inroads presented themselves. There was a single well-worn hiking trail - probably the main route to the verse's interior - and a few smaller footpaths paths, nearly entirely eclipsed by the encroaching vegetation.
The traveler considered the treetops, but even a cursory examination, in any spectrum, showed the canopy wasn't dense enough here to make a viable alternative route. He'd have to wait to make use of it until he was further into the forest, where the trees were older, and the perpetual arboreal twilight for which the Tangled Green was known set in in earnest.
But which way to go? I can't just wander at random.
Kelly checked his liberator aide, fiddling with the settings and studying the hi-tech guantlet's little display for any sign of Nebula activity, any indication of the direction in which their stronghold might lie.
... Hn. Nothing. Well, I was told that the range was a little short. I guess I'll just have to head for the center of the 'verse and work outward from there.
The psychic recalled the database entry on the Green he'd memorized all those months ago, at Fort AMBR.
If nothing else, I'll eventually run into the Ninjas or the Elves. If I haven't found anything by then, they might be able to point me in the right direction. All else failing, I'll call Doctor Regal and ask him exactly where he's been sending his scouts - but I don't think that will be necessary.
He chose one of the lesser paths, wending off through the trees towards the west. Every step of the way branches clawed at his arms and clothing, though a cursory psychokinetic effort kept them from his face. He parted the green just enough - like a prophet's understudy. Still, it was tough going, even for someone with a frame as lean and wiry as his - his height, combined with the simple rules of physical proportion, meant that his broad, angular shoulders presented a prime target for grasping greenery. The psychic soon accumulated an impressive collection of scrapes. He held his quarterstaff close, and keeping it from getting tangled was a minor nuisance.
Kelly grimaced, the predatory slopes of his face reduced to stark suggestions by camouflage and the deepening gloom.
I've got the feeling this is the kind of problem that's likely to come to me.
The gate opened onto a broad clearing furnished with a dense carpet of ankle-high ferns. Fluffy fronds and little spiral shoots presenting every shade of verdant hue lay beaten down by the recent storm, flexible and unbroken, but momentarily subdued.
Beyond the ferns lay the forest, a wall of tangled trunks and creeping ivy, brown and black and gray among the omnipresent green. Oaks stood shoulder-to-shoulder with walnuts and elms, and even a few maple trees, battling the green stems and choking grasp of lesser flora. It crowded around the edges of the clearing, younger, smaller growth filling the gaps between the mighty, gnarled trunks of the older trees, sending probing limbs out into the overcast clearing as though eager to see what fresh fool had emerged from the Nexus gate.
The Tangled Green, more than any other 'verse Kelly had been to so far, was alive. For the moment it was quiet, stunned in the wake of the storm, but it didn't feel empty; It felt patient - as though at any moment it could rise to sudden action. Standing before the gate, the psychic's higher senses only reached to the edge of the clearing, but even in that limited sphere there hid an entire ecosystem. Leaving aside the abundance of ferns, already beginning to stir as their springy stems recovered from the battering rain, there were snakes, insects, small mammals huddled beneath the soil. He could see their thermal signatures, taste their kirlian glow, feel the subtle radio-spectrum pressures of the their simple neurology. They were like little stars, surprisingly complex, shining softly among the fractal fronds of their tiny, fern-based cosmos.
Kelly increased his neural clock-speed and spared a long moment to appreciate them. The denizens that lurked within the woods wouldn't be nearly so benign.
And that's without even accounting for whatever defenses Nebula may have prepared...
Snapping back into a the normal flow of events, Kelly walked the perimeter of the clearing, plucking leafy sticks and stems from the brush, weaving them into his hair and looping them through his belt. Dirt and plant-matter stained his fingers, and the smell of sap and fresh chlorophyll wafted from the organic elements of his disguise.
In most places, the undergrowth was so dense as to be impenetrable without a machete, and even then progress would be laughably slow. Even at the edge of his extrasensory perceptions, few clear inroads presented themselves. There was a single well-worn hiking trail - probably the main route to the verse's interior - and a few smaller footpaths paths, nearly entirely eclipsed by the encroaching vegetation.
The traveler considered the treetops, but even a cursory examination, in any spectrum, showed the canopy wasn't dense enough here to make a viable alternative route. He'd have to wait to make use of it until he was further into the forest, where the trees were older, and the perpetual arboreal twilight for which the Tangled Green was known set in in earnest.
But which way to go? I can't just wander at random.
Kelly checked his liberator aide, fiddling with the settings and studying the hi-tech guantlet's little display for any sign of Nebula activity, any indication of the direction in which their stronghold might lie.
... Hn. Nothing. Well, I was told that the range was a little short. I guess I'll just have to head for the center of the 'verse and work outward from there.
The psychic recalled the database entry on the Green he'd memorized all those months ago, at Fort AMBR.
If nothing else, I'll eventually run into the Ninjas or the Elves. If I haven't found anything by then, they might be able to point me in the right direction. All else failing, I'll call Doctor Regal and ask him exactly where he's been sending his scouts - but I don't think that will be necessary.
He chose one of the lesser paths, wending off through the trees towards the west. Every step of the way branches clawed at his arms and clothing, though a cursory psychokinetic effort kept them from his face. He parted the green just enough - like a prophet's understudy. Still, it was tough going, even for someone with a frame as lean and wiry as his - his height, combined with the simple rules of physical proportion, meant that his broad, angular shoulders presented a prime target for grasping greenery. The psychic soon accumulated an impressive collection of scrapes. He held his quarterstaff close, and keeping it from getting tangled was a minor nuisance.
Kelly grimaced, the predatory slopes of his face reduced to stark suggestions by camouflage and the deepening gloom.
I've got the feeling this is the kind of problem that's likely to come to me.