Out of the Trees

[Kelly MacAryn]

No sooner than he was back among the trees, Kelly took to the canopy, dropping into a low crouch and leaping straight up from the forest floor, trailing a sprinkle of black soil from the soles of his hob-nailed boots. He had to kick off the trunk of a tree in order to reach a suitable perch, a mossy, vine-choked branch no wider than his hand. 

High-ground established, the traveler took a moment to orient himself, crouching among the low-altitude mists and wet leaves as he mentally retraced his path through the forest, extrapolating the route back to his point of origin. It was much easier now, though whether this was the result of experience or his recent psychological safari he couldn't say; Regardless, in practically no time at all he was leaping from branch to branch once more, quarterstaff clutched in one calloused hand. His ponytail, damp from the perpetually-moist canopy, trailed behind him as he made a bee-line for the Nexus Gate. 

In spite of the extremely eventful day he'd had, Kelly had decided he liked the Green. All around him he could sense the pulse of life in abundance. From the miniscule electrochemical twinkle of insects nestling within the bark of the trees, to the more sophisticated shine of tiny frogs clinging to the bottoms of their leaves, to the caged-lightning brightness of a startled feline super-predator too surprised at the man in jeans hurtling through its treetop domain to seize the opportunity, it was all writ large in anti-color shades and voluminous flavors; heat,  magnetism and ultraviolet light painted a three-hundred-sixty degree view of the world. The comparatively plodding bio-rhythms of the plants themselves provided a stark counterpoint to the extravagant tapestry.  

There was a profound openness to the  verse's complex verdant vitality, a subtle sort of idle urgency that eased the psychic's mind. 

Besides - it was giving him ideas. 

When the time comes to establish a primary base of operations, I think I'm going to have to come back here. Those ruins the local Nebula cell was operating from were extensive, surrounded by dense jungle and extremely well-hidden... provided nobody else moves in in the meantime, they'll serve nicely.

Of course, I'll need to establish my forward outposts in Coruscant first...

Kelly briefly considered opening a holographic dataverse window and firing off a round of e-mails in order to set the stage for his return to the city, but he dismissed the idea quickly - even with his recent mental upgrades, he still wasn't adept enough to make the seemingly-casual acrobatics he was performing in order to maneuver through the canopy something he could do while conducting other business and not risk a face full of tree.   
 

[Kelly MacAryn]

By the time the psychic made it to within half-a-kilometer of the clearing which hosted the Nexus gate, 
the canopy had thinned out considerably. Lacking suitable footholds, he was forced to abandon the treetops in favor of picking his way through the dense undergrowth.

The sharp decrease in his rate of travel bothered Kelly less than he would have thought, though branches pulled at the damp  blue fabric of his sleeveless cotton shirt and ground-level vines did their very best to entangle his booted feet. His nose was filled with the bright smells of chlorophyll and healthy soil, and his psychic powers and higher senses could handle the tightly seemingly-impassable foliage and hazardous footing.  

He only got jumped once. A great night-black feline shape fell on him from above, intent on ambushing the strange primate, which it had been tracking for some time. Kelly's haunt shouted a vivid still-frame warning, and the psychic pulsed his somatic awareness, generating a weak, rapidly-expanding blast-wave of telekinetic force. The blossoming hemisphere would have been invisible if it weren't for the layer of compressed vegetation roiling on its leading edge, and the very surprised panther pressed against its curved horizon. The dome petered out after several meters, sending the stunned cat and the vegetative slurry sailing off into the understory amidst a hushed flurry of unnatural zephyrs: stray telekinetic harmonics which rustled the leaves of nearby trees and dislodged a colony of small, brightly colored nocturnal snails from their deciduous daytime shelters. 

Standing in what was now a small circle of partially-flattened boscage amidst a rain of tiny, colorful gastropods, a thin smile crept like a thief across the travelers face. There was a brief commotion in the brush as the big cat righted itself in a furious twisting scramble and shot up the trunk tree, fleeing the scene.

 Compared to the jungles of Nebula Space, this place was positively welcoming. 

He moved on. 

There were also more practical reasons Kelly didn't mind the change from high-flying acrobatics to forest-floor trailblazing: homeostatic danger signals from his legs and abdomen were inundating his haunt. There was no pain as such, but the academic fact of his condition sent a grimace flickering across the shadowy angles of his rugged face. His lanky, athletic physique was very nearly inhumanly powerful and Kelly was skilled enough at using it to take full advantage of things like momentum and negative muscular action, but even so he'd been leaping hell-for-leather through the treetops for over an hour. His burgeoning post-human abilities hadn't yet reached a level where that sort of effort was trivial; Before returning to the Nexus, he was going to need to take some time to rest his muscles and recover his strength. 

The glade which held the gate that would lead him back into the bizarre white space at the center of the Omniverse hadn't changed significantly since the last time Kelly was there. It was still dominated by a carpet of ferns, but now they stood tall, shoots extended, leafy fronds spread wide to greet the sun. A sharp, minty smell hung in the air. Some of the broader plants, their leaves like green lace, were almost waist-high.  As the traveler stepped from between the green underbrush and gnarled grey-and-brown trunks of the tightly-packed treeline the layer of ground-cover rustled furiously, some small mammal fleeing his approach.

The clearing was awake this time, its many denizens scurrying and buzzing and feeding and pooping and doing every other thing that small, ground-dwelling creatures could do within their little fern-based kingdom. To a man with Kelly's senses, it was a hell of a show, now with an added emotional dimension since the advent of his returned telepathy, an opera  written in infrared light and primitive psychological impulse. 

Dragonflies the size of sparrows took off from within one of the largest ferns, their wings thrumming loudly as they fled the scene. The elongated tongue of some unclassified amphibian snatched one of them out of the air and dragged it down among the lesser fronds in a whip-cracking instant of bungee-cord violence almost too fast to track. A cloud of smaller insects arose for a moment, disturbed by the sudden action, and then settled again. Nestled within a narrow rotting log, concealed by the ferns, a terrified vole was trying unsuccessfully to get laid. 

Kelly selected a tree with the fewest nobbly roots breaking the surface around its base; It was right on the edge of the clearing, opposite the gate. He removed the double-headed battleaxe from his back, and propped it against the trunk, harness and all, mildly surprised at what a relief it was to take the thing off. The traveler sat down beside the weapon, reclining against the mossy bark of the tree with one knee bent and his iron-shod staff resting in the crook of his arm. He plucked one of the colorful snails from earlier out of his ponytail and set it down on a nearby leaf. Then, struck with renewed appreciation of the weft and swirl of tiny lives spread out before him, shining so brightly in his extrasensory awareness, he settled in to rest, to think and to watch the show.

[Kelly MacAryn]

Pleasantly distracted by the small zoological and botanical dramas that were unfolding all around him, the subtle machinery of Kelly's mind drifted along a familiar course of simple, efficient  meditations. The shapes of things known and things suspected came together into a sequential procession of familiar strategies and elusive questions. However, while it felt good to review, the psychic found himself frustratingly lacking in progress. Typically, this sort of introspection would produce new insight, but this time he found himself at an impasse. 

Kelly frowned, resting the back of his head against the tree and staring upward, accusing but unfocused. Above him, leaves rustled in a sudden breeze, revealing patchwork snapshots of clear blue sky.  

It was the memories that were doing it; his omniscient knowledge of the goings-on of this verdant clearing's simple creatures was reminding him of something, and whatever it was was roiling him emotionally as it scrabbled at its brittle telepathic cage.

It's even worse than having it all lost behind that damn mental fog. These failing  locks make every subconscious association with a blocked memory noticeable - and I swear its gotten worse. 

Warnings or no, I'm probably going to have to start exploring my past or pretty soon I won't be  able to focus at all.

"Fucknuggets," he sighed, and rested his stubbled chin on his chest, closing his eyes. The fact that he needed to shave intruded briefly on his mind.  

I've got so many questions - about my nature; About the things I know, the skills I've got; About my convictions, and my  tepid emotional non-response to Tearen Wover's ontological revelations. I don't know where to start...  

... so I may as well start at the beginning. 

The traveler thought back as far as he could, and within the landscape of his thoughts non-euclidean crystal panes shifted and spun. 

Recollection was a choice, but the lock was brittle. Like popping a soap bubble, a door opened in Kelly's mind. 

*      *     *

Hazy recollections of a sepia-toned childhood. 

A loud, sturdy father who worked hard with pencils and graphs,  and thrived on wordplay, and never, ever yelled. 

A mother who kept house like the captain of a battleship, cooking and cleaning and managing her boys as though she were on a mission from God, fierce and gentle. 

A sibling - an ally and a mystery, brilliant and brash and in awe of his Big Brother. 

Nameless friends, more like spectators, equally precocious, nervous at his strangeness. 

Mythic winters with howling snows, buried by blizzards in the twin shadows of looming nuclear annihilation and the continental divide; Endless, indistinguishable summers riding bicycles through the transformative second act of the American age.

Schooldays spent with a paperback hidden under the desk. 

Details were lost to the haze of merely-human memory - strong emotions clung to a smeared and faded picture of a decade-and-change spent in idle innocence, with only brief moments in stark relief...





...Until an adolescent felt the chill of early fall sapping the heat from his skinny back, devoured by the greedy pavement on which he lay, cold and damp, even through his windbreaker. The sky was overcast, iron gray and threatening rain. The mountains loomed on the near-horizon, as they always had, half-strangled by probing forests, white-capped with early snowss; nearby, the school-building sprawled like a fallen skateboarder, a single flat-roofed story of thoroughly embarrassed bricks stretched across half a city-block, hiding in the shadows of pine-trees and other, taller buildings. Every detail stood out vividly, preserved in cinematic quality, eidetic hyperthymesia taken to an elegant and terrible conclusion.   

He was thirteen years old. It was 1995. Echoes of an out-of-body experience jangled across his brain, replaying a nonsensical conversation with the avatar of something ancient and mad. 

Power and Time, it had told him; A place at the table. The rest is up to you.   

Recess was over, and nobody had noticed he'd collapsed; those raging assholes had left him outside.  
  

[Kelly MacAryn]

He stood up, rising on scrawny legs - stretched by a recent growth-spurt, but still the legs of a child. The damp had seeped into the seat of his patched and faded jeans, which normally would have bothered him; right now it barely even registered.

The boy felt profoundly strange. He was hearing things, seeing things, hallucinating a vivid new order. Metals had visual  weight, webs of force rippling through space, unseen but present. Synesthetic color-flavors pulsed at strange intervals, cutting across his proprioceptive awareness like disconnected phantom limbs. Alien sensations of somatic feedback boiled from his surroundings like steam from a crater-lake.  

A wave of vertigo sent anti-color starbursts ripping across the young man's eyes. Canvas high-tops skittered on the pavement as he staggered.  A red tail-ed hawk soared overhead, and the noise in his brain flared, whispering precision, hunger and avarice, intuitive airflow calculations - all silenced as the raptor rose on a thermal and vanished among the trees. 

He steadied himself, stared at spot between his feet and ground one of his palms into his forehead. An earthworm, sluggish from the chill, was trying valiantly to cross the pavement.  

"What is happening to me?" he hissed. Strands of shaggy brown hair bobbed in front of his eyes, and tears of panic stung his cheeks.

The boy stood there for hours, stooped over and frantically processing with hands on his knees until the school bell rang - then he sprinted off into the woods, fleeing the clamor of oncoming minds as though it were a wall of burning oil. 

*  *  *

Kelly opened his eyes and pushed down the echoes of vividly recorded distress, stirred from his reverie by a subtle change in the clearing. He was no longer alone. 

A pair of purple-skinned night-elves crouched in the bracken, believing themselves hidden. They wore simple tunics and leggings in forest colors with open-faced hoods, currently down - possibly in deference to their ludicrously pointed ears, the gently sloping tips of which were nearly a foot in length. Curved blades hung at their  belts alongside an assortment of daggers and pouches, and a short-bow and quiver were slung across each other their backs. From the shadows they regarded him cautiously with softly-glowing blue eyes.

The traveler was embarrassed to admit that it took him  a moment to find a way to distinguish them. They had pretty, androgenous faces. One had a slightly higher set of cheekbones, and the other had a longer nose, but other than that they were almost perfectly identical, even to his higher senses. On bare feet they slunk silently around the perimeter of the glen, edging closer. A breeze whispered across the ferns, a cresting wave of rustling green. 

The elves' intent was easy enough to read, flickering like neon across the surface of their minds: they'd been sent here to watch the gate, and to report who came and who left. They didn't know why, and they hadn't asked. 

The psychic debated pinging them telepathically, but he settled instead for simply watching what they did. Eventually, following a discussion behind a small blackberry thicket conducted entirely using hand-signals, the two of them slipped deftly through the briars and stepped out into the open. 

Kelly waved.

"What gave me away?" He asked, strictly in the interest of being polite. "That I knew you were here, I mean."

The elves looked at each other, knee-deep in ferns and not a frond broken. "I thought you opened your eyes very decisively, as though something had caught your attention." said the one with the longer nose, barely containing a smile. "My sister disagreed. She owes me some wine."

The elf with the proud cheeks crossed her arms over her chest, formed a thin-lipped frown, and very pointedly said nothing.   

The traveler nodded thoughtfully. He pushed himself upright using his staff, then raised it overhead with his hands spaced wide and arched his back, loudly popping his spine. 

"I'm just passing through," he said, resting his favored weapon in the crook of his shoulder and leaning back against the moss-coated tree. "I'll be hitting the Nexus in a couple  of minutes. There's no need to trouble yourselves on my account."

"We were not planning on it," said the sore loser, turning her back and taking up a station beside the vine-encrusted edifice of the gate.

Her brother shrugged apologetically, then moved to join her.  A Cold wind began to blow from the East, signalling yet another change in the weather. 

Kelly sighed, struck by a sudden apprehension that they were about to have more guests. 

A pair of obviously-fresh Primes entered the 'verse from the Nexus, muttering to themselves and one-another, gawking and summoning, lighting the clearing with brilliant shades of rainbow brilliance as active Omnilium flared and pulsed. The forested world of ferns and trees was temporarily transformed into a psychedelic dreamscape of koleidoscopic chaos, rendering the merely visual world almost as interesting as the more complex vistas which danced across the psychic's superhuman sensorium.

The two newcomers, freshly minted weapons in hand, struck out into the Green engrossed in animate discussion, so fascinated by each-other and themselves that neither noticed the traveler.

He shared a glance with with the elves, unable to completely suppress a lopsided smile. 

It was a strange world, but he'd be lying if he said it wasn't growing on him.

[Éowyn]

The vibrant green of the forest came as new dawn to Eowyn’s mind as she left the pallor of the Nexus behind. The new life brought with it resolve and awareness, and the shadow of despair departed from her for the moment. And as if waking from a dream, Eowyn beheld fully for the first time those that had led her from the Nexus cairn. At the moment, the two travelers were halted, a pair of elven sentries had blocked the path from the gate, and seemed unsatisfied to simply allow the wanderers passage.

There were four travelers before her, each pair one male and one female, though from there the groups diverged dramatically. Though the violet-skinned elves were openly equipped for battle, the two humans who had been leading her were less overt, yet only more threatening because of it. To the uncaring watcher their gear would mark them as serfs, vagabonds wandering between worlds without aim. Yet the daughter of Rohan perceived further and saw in them a predatory stance, as a hound that strained upon a tight leash. The hilts of blades held true in her mind that these two were trained killers, merely wearing sheep’s cloth to avoid suspicion. As the argument between shinobi and elf grew more heated, she was made further aware of her own lack of weaponry, no doubt abandoned upon the field of her shame. The Shieldmaiden grew glassy-eyed, but spoke nonetheless, addressing the ninjas and elves alike, bringing their own debate to a halt.

“I seek an audience with Lord Aragorn, and those who know him would do well to direct me towards him without delay.” She spoke with the voice of authority and command, a counter point to the uncertainty that clawed at her mind, and the Shinobi were put ill at ease by her confidence. Though they had rightly perceived her as a prime newly come to this realm, yet she spoke with confidence and knowledge that she should by no rights possess, lest some power gave her insight beyond that of mortal men. For their parts, the elves seemed less unnerved, though they were wary in proportion with their charge, and the male had casually brought his bow towards more easy reach.  

“You seek the king of Camelot?” the she-elf asked at length, casting a glance towards the shinobi as she spoke, though they were still and unhelpful towards her questions.

“Nay, I seek the chieftain of the Dunadein, who is by rights the king of Gondor, and by the house of Eorl shall it be made so.” Eowyn answered, but now the beast of the unknown grew taller and more fierce before the shieldmaiden, as her will and purpose faltered.

Perhaps, in this strange realm, she would not find the familiar face of hope, but only a cruel alignment of fates that brought one the same in name alone. Yet she clung to this hope with an unrelenting grip, for Eowyn was beset by powers fully beyond her ken, and until the hope was entirely spent, she would not relent. The assassins shared a glance of portent, then the woman took to the trees at a pace that seemed indeed unnatural. The Elven strings bent, and two arrows stood ready, one towards the second ninja, the other towards Eowyn, though neither flinched at the movement.
“You are wasting your time, Ears. Chikanari will return with reinforcements long before you can send word to Yggdrasil. The new prime will go to Mokugakure.” The shinobi spoke with a grim confidence that belied his youth, but the Tyrnade’s Sentinels would not be so easily dissuaded. Eowyn glanced towards the shinobi in question, knowing now that her demands held no influence with either pair.

“You must speak with the elders of my village.” The man said, by way of explanation, “If they deem it wise, you will be sent on your way to speak with King Aragorn. But do not mistake our intentions, nor those of these point-ears. You have sway due to your inheritance, but we have sway due to our knowledge.”

The Elves had begun to converse in a language that Eowyn did not recognize, but before they reached a consensus on their next course of action, a new traveler made his presence known, walking towards the group with a placating gesture.

“let’s all just calm down now, okay? Its been a peaceful day here so far, and I would hate for things to go south so soon.” The man spoke with practice and a careful measure, And Eowyn saw in him a fully disciplined mind. This wander seemed to recognize the elves, but approached the situation as would an outsider, much as Eowyn herself.

The shinobi did not let this new arrival pass without opportunity however, slipping past the elven bow, and pressing a kunai to the male elf’s throat.

“Drop the weapons, both of you.” He spoke without rage, without emotion, only deathly purpose, “No one moves anywhere until Chikanari returns. Understood?”

[Kelly MacAryn]

The elven sentry, caught flat-footed with a blade menacing his violet neck, did as he was told. Carefully relaxing his draw, the bow-and-arrow tumbled from his hands to disappear among the ferns with a whispered rasp. His sister hesitated, obviously seething - but unfortunately her brother was between his captor and her bow.

From behind an amiable mask, completely at ease but ready to act, Kelly studied the shinobi. 

Short hair, simple clothes, emphasis on ease of mobility over defensive utility. Moves like a dancer; phenomenal muscle tone - probably better fed than he's trying to appear... was he posing as a Darkshire farmer or a Camelot serf? It has to be one of the two. Magnetic fields indicate concealed blades, though the specifics and locations are hard to resolve. Hm;  Some sort of stochastic interference there...

...Interesting, but probably not relevant right now.

His thoughts are highly organized, which I guess isn't a surprise. He knows exactly what he's doing: he really will kill that elf, if only to even the odds a little if this comes to a fight  - but he's also paranoid, and just a little bit nervous. He wasn't expecting anyone to be here... and he doesn't know anything about me.   

"If you kill him," said the elven woman, "I have no reason not to shoot you, ninja."   

The hostage-taker's expression didn't change. "You'll miss," he said, without a hint of uncertainty. "Now drop your weapon. I will not ask again." 

Kelly sighed, his attention flickering to the Prime who had come through the gate at the ninjas' heels. Though currently unarmed she was dressed for battle, obviously wounded, and just as obviously out of her depth. A deep purple-green band of sorrow and anger snarled across the surface of her generally stalwart thoughts, tapering off into a kind of tired confusion.

If I had to guess, and I do, I'd say she came out on the wrong side of a fight.

"I'd like to point out," said the traveler, resting his quarterstaff  across the side of his neck, "That including the woman you're all arguing over, this is a four-party negotiation."

As he talked, he reached out with his mind, locating the male elf's dropped arrow among the ferns. 

All three secondaries looked at him, though the elf with the kunai at his throat only moved his eyes. 

"She only makes three. I thought you said you were just passing through," said the hostage's sister. "What is your interest here?" 

Carefully maintaining an impression of outward interest in the ongoing standoff, the psychic began to telekinetically maneuver the discarded missile through the undergrowth, working it carefully through the tangled fronds until it lay behind the ninja. When that was accomplished, he began a similar effort to maneuver his abandoned axe out of its harness and near to the enraged elf - a considerably more complicated task to accomplish with any subtlety.  

"Utility," he answered honestly, even-toned and approachable. He made a point of not gritting his teeth - ferns were rustling, in spite of his best efforts; He hoped that the breeze was enough to hide it. "This situation is getting out of hand, and I'd rather see everyone involved discuss it rationally; I spent a considerable chunk of my yesterday fighting androids and mutants, and while admittedly bracing that's a job which makes a person long for civil discourse. It's clear that none of you trust each-other, so I'd like to offer my services as a mediator - but first, I'd appreciate it if all of you lowered your weapons."

The other Prime spoke up, meeting his gaze with her own. "Your words are wise, stranger," She said. "I would see no further blood shed this day without cause."

The elf-woman and the shinobi exchanged glances. Wondering if he was going to have to hamstring someone in the name of civility, and with the tools in place to do it, Kelly could see the moment of decision begin to flicker across their brains.

[Éowyn]

Eowyn watched the confrontation with but half her sight, for the sheer power of life that existed within the clearing stirred her, and its ancientness beckoned towards her, bidding her abandon her cares, and simply lose herself beneath the branches. Memories of the Golden wood, beckoning from the edges of the Mark, drew her towards the depths of the forest. She had never dared to venture 'neath those bows then, for a sorceress of great power held sway over those lands. Now the trees called to her with a power born of ancient strength. 

Yet the maiden of Rohan steeled her mind and turned back towards the exchange, as the blue-clad traveler demanded all parties to disarm. In a moment of insight, she beheld that his efforts would not dissway the conflict that was festering. Though the scars of her defeat still burned brightly, this was no longer an hour for swords, lest more innocents meet their end. To ease the conflict, Eowyn would relinquish her force as a warrior. It was a diplomat that was needed for this moment.

“This matter is trivial.” She declared, though all involved looked at her without understanding and the maiden spoke further, “I am the niece of King Theoden of Rohan, and I am beholden to treat with them, and bid them direct me towards Lord Aragorn. Who’s land do we stand upon?”

The elven woman spoke first and proudly, “The Night Elf Sentinels protect and nurture these forests, on the orders of High priestess Tyrande Whisperwind. Though she is no longer a member of King Aragorn’s congregation, she would no doubt be willing to speak with you about the issue. This scoundrel is from Mokugakure, though as to his loyalties I cannot say. Tsunade would be foolish indeed if she were to condone his actions this day.” Her gaze was harsh, yet the shinobi would not relent, his knife only mildly easing from the elf’s thoat.

“This is not a fair presentation of the facts.” The shinobi spoke with equal disdain, “and shows just how out of touch with the true state of the Greens you elves are. The Greenskins rule these woods, and the elf’s a liar if she says otherwise. I doubt you’ll find Garrosh as a willing host, but I won’t stop you if that’s your intent. Whatever your choice, we cannot continue to linger here. An elven patrol may pass undetected, but with two primes and such an unwieldy party, we'll be too tempting not to pursue.” His glance towards Eowyn’s garb was plainly noticeable by all as he spoke. The warrior's mail served well in the defense, but was quite unprepared for travelling separated from the solid earth. Beyond their sight, a bird unknown to Eowyn cried out shrilly. The Shinobi turned to regard Kelly, knife no longer pressed to the elf’s throat, but still holding the archer firmly. Kelly watched him, face impassive, and eyes alight with intent. 

“You noticed Chikanari's warning I presume? That greenskin band cannot be more than ten minutes from the gate, and they rarely go hunting without a quarry. You see that truth yes? We are at risk exposed out here. Mokugakure is the nearest haven by far, and we must begin the journey now if we have any hope of survival. I have no desire to be roasted on an orcish spit, do you?”

[Kelly MacAryn]

Kelly's expression didn't change. Evaluating the truth of the situation based on simple conjectures and telepathic eavesdropping, the traveler absorbed the new information with equal parts irritation and unprejudiced interest.

"I don't expect it will come to that," he said. "And I feel obligated to point out that you're not being entirely forthcoming either: The closest settlement is probably Ambrosia. Also, if I know my shinobi tradecraft, that particular birdcall only signals that there's an orcish hunting party in the area. I'd guess you're estimating their proximity based on Chikanari's average rate of travel, and seeing as how you've only just arrived from the Nexus yourselves their destination is likely just informed conjecture on your part."

The psychic adjusted his grip on his quarterstaff, planting one end among the ferns and leaning against it. He didn't actually know jack shit about the signals the ninjas of Mokugare used, but the meaning of the shrill birdcall had been relatively easy to glean from the assassins train of thought, and dropping the hint of broader knowledge helped to foster an illusion of control. 

Overall, he was quite pleased with the way things were going; Nobody was pointing weapons at each-other anymore. The situation was de-escalating rapidly.  

The ninja narrowed his eyes. "Even if that is true, it does not make dawdling here any wiser. Orc war-bands rarely venture this close to the Nexus. they're likely to be -" 
 
A shadow passed over the clearing, bringing with it the rush and thump of enormous wings beating the  air. A spear decorated with feathers and bones pierced the peaceful strata of the ferns and stuck, juddering it dirt. It struck nobody, but brought the conversation to an abrupt halt. Everyone looked up.

A trio of great leathery shapes wheeled and spun overhead, higher than the canopy, dancing in the summmer sky. They were brightly colored in patches of yellow feathers and sky-blue scales. Each was several times larger than a full grown man, with canoe-sized wings, curved like blades, and beaks like spears: Pterodactyls. 

There were squat, muscular bodies dressed in leather, skulls, feathers and beads mounted astride the flying dinosaurs' backs. Polished tusks and bronze bangles glittered in the sun.

"Oh for fuck's sake," Kelly said.  

Several things happened at once. The ninja abandoned his grip on the male elf, retrieving something from his clothing and sweeping a hand skyward in one fluid motion as he broke for the trees. A volley of kunai with short paper tags affixed by red ribbons streaked into the air and exploded high above the clearing in a staccato triple-burst of fire and and dense black smoke. The dinosaurs heaved and scattered, uninjured, but startled by the noise; their orcish riders pulled at the reigns, vying for control. 

At the same time, the freshly elf swept up his discarded bow and joined his sister as she began to fire arrow after arrow into the sky, one after another with near-mechanical consistency as they retreated towards the treeline.  

The orcish riders regrouped, hooting wildly as their mounts dove through the smoke. 

The traveler smashed a descending spear aside with a precise flick his staff and turned to face Eowyn. "You're going to need a weapon," he noted, and levitated his darkling battleaxe out of its hiding place among the ferns, sending it spiraling in a lazy underhand arc towards the daughter of Theodin. The two-sided blade made a low-pitched whom as it cut the air. 

"Catch."

[Éowyn]

The burnished blade sang true as it rent the air. The blade swung end over end with an unearthly heft, as though propelled by an unseen wind or will. Yet in such an hour of need Eowyn would not question the manner of the weapon’s appearance, and caught the haft without pause. The battle axe was heavy but well-kept and possessing of a wicked edge. The weapon seemed almost as if it spoke to her, so eager was its blade for battle, and Eowyn held it at the ready as their foes regrouped, their hellish mounts diving out of the sky with the grace of death. The Elves had withdrawn from the clearing, as had the shinobi, though arrows still defied the orcs from the forest’s edge. Yet of the defenders still in the clearing, this left Eowyn and Kelly as the most visible targets for their charge. Two warriors facing death from air.

The Orcish raiders dove with purpose, the great mounts peeling from the sky with inhuman cries as they raced towards the two primes. Kelly held not for their arrival, but leapt into the air with unnatural speed as the attackers drew near. He soared up and over the snapping maw of the beast, striking the surprised orc with his quarterstaff as he landed on the beast’s back. The Pterodactyl shrieked, its burden doubled in an instant, and turned skyward, Kelly struggling with the physically larger orc as the winged terror sought the safety of the sky.

Yet two more riders continued their dive, one of the scaled and feathered beasts swept along the tree line, suffering arrows from the elves to cast a smoking bundle at their shelter, engulfing the elves with a noxious haze. The final pterosaur swooped low, rippling ferns as it skimmed the surface. Atop its back rode a hulking orc of vibrant green, brighter than any spawn of Mordor’s pits. Eowyn dove aside as the beast’s jaws sought her waist, then brought the battle axe to bear with grim resolve. The darkling steel bit eagerly into the wing, halting only briefly at the hollow bone before proceeding into wing flap. The Pterosaur crashed to the earth in a deafening cacophony of shrieks, its airborne kin echoing the cries of pain as the leathery behemoth turned up soil and fern in a spray of earth and vegetation.

Yet though the dreaded pterosaur had been torn from the air, its rider was not yet bereft of fervor and with a cry of “Waaaaaaauuugh!” the large warrior bore down upon Eowyn with a snarl and a slab of twisted metal nearly twice the size of Eowyn’s own weapon. The Shieldmaiden rejected her momentary fear and answered the greenskin’s charge with her own cry.

“Forth Eorlingas!” sung out amidst the branches of the tangled green, and darkling steel met orkish metal with a resounding clang.