The leaves whispered a voiceless cacophony, swaying delicately from their fragile perch in the trees. The sight of a forest was incredibly rare on a planet in such an advanced state of decay as Filgaia, every time Clive got a chance to look upon one he always felt that he was wasting something just being there. But tonight, the gathering of the sparse population of wood welcomed him with a much more ominous air that he had never experienced before. The four drifters waited along the outskirts of the forest, weapons drawn and prepared. They had released their horses and would continue on foot until they reached their quarry.
"Everyone ready?" Asked Virginia, both hands hovering closely to the twin pistols by her sides. Gallows saluted with his gun arm, hitting himself in the forehead with his Coyote, wincing from the pain. Jet grunted an incoherent reply and Clive made an affirming gesture, shifting his gun to one hand to do so.
"How should we go about this?" The sniper asked their leader calmly.
"Well," Thought Virginia, "If we go in together we'd be much safer from threat and set to fight if we are ambushed. But, if we all went in separately, we'd be able to cover much more ground…"
"Works for me." Said Jet, slinging his machinegun over his shoulder and marching off into the woods.
"Jet, wait!" Cried Virginia, running a few paces after him. The boy stopped and turned around, lavender eyes regarding the girl apathetically. "You can't just walk off, we haven't decided yet."
"I have. If anybody gets in danger or sees the monster, fire an Arcana into the air, and I'll come running. That should include everybody else as well." He ordered casually, "Any objections?"
"None." Said Clive as nobody seemed dissatisfied with Jet's plan.
"Happy hunting." Jet fixed all of them with a glance that masked his desire to see them all come out alive again, before disappearing into the grove of trees, out of sight.
Virginia held her hands out in front of her body in a subtle feminine pleading motion. "Please, all of you be careful. Don't be a hero, call for help the moment you need it."
Clive pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose, gripping his ARM tightly. It would be better this way, for him at least, because he was used to monster hunting alone, in the typical way of the marksman. Even if they were to be separated, they would still be close enough to give and receive aid if needed. It was his comrades he was worried about, especially Virginia, as she did not have as much experience as the other men in their party. Clive smiled privately, he figured that Jet would probably keep more than an eye on her, what he and Gallows had noticed the youth had been doing as of late.
Without giving any parting words, Clive strolled over to the very edge of the woods, the foliage clumped closely together instead of widely spread out like a usual woodland. For a fleeting moment, Clive wished that it wasn't so dark out, a tiny stab of puerile night fear streaking through his mind. Brushing it aside, he stepped in.
"Argh!" Virginia and Gallows jumped at the sound of the sniper keeling over in sudden pain, one hand clasped protectively at his head. He fell to one knee, using his ARM like a supporting crutch. Instantly, he found his friends behind him, the big Baskar hauling him to his feet.
"Are you alright?" He asked, releasing Clive from his grip.
Clive rubbed his head like somebody had struck him an invisible blow, feeling the beginning of a headache forming. "The ark scepter reacted when I entered the forest." He explained.
"From a Guardian?" Gallows pressed.
"I believe so." Clive removed his hand, the sharp pain fading as quickly as it arrived. It was strange, why had the others not felt it as well? It felt different to all the times he had entered a Guardian shrine, it was almost like something had tried to pull him deeper into the forest. "I am alright." He reassured them, raising his hands in a warding gesture. Before they could comment he advanced back into the woods. He was not hindered again.
Virginia looked at Gallows. "Do you feel anything?"
Gallows shook his head negatively. "Nope. But I do have baaaaad feeling about this." He muttered apprehensively.
The female drifter patted Gallows's muscular arm affectionately. "It'll be over soon, let's just get the job done." She pulled out her twin pistols and progressed forward, leaving the Baskar alone with his anxiety.
He looked up at the sky, making a silent prayer to the luck Guardian that nothing would go wrong. "Hoo boy, Halloween…" At least, if he ever made it out alive, he'd have another good story to tell Shane. As long as he remained positive, nothing would go wrong. Cloaking himself with determination, he brought up the rear of the party, ARM geared to shoot any creature that moved.
xxx
What in the world was that?
He received no answer to his thoughts. Clive walked through pitch blackness, trying to stay in a certain direction, as he could barely see more than a few feet ahead. Experimentally, he focussed his will upon one of his mediums, a tiny ball of flame flickering to life in one gloved hand. Its illumination brightened the area somewhat, but did not help him to tell exactly what direction he was taking. The fire warmed his hands, yet refrained from burning him, as it was magically conjured. Arcana was a skill he was still getting used to. Being a scientist himself, the concept of magic was intriguing, but he left its application to those who understood it best, the Baskar priesthood. When he had received his first medium, the new ability to manipulate the elements fascinated him to no end, and many times he had tried to figure out precisely how the concept worked.
The air inside was stagnant and very close together, he found himself thankful that he did not suffer from claustrophobia, or he would have been miserable indeed. He increased the size of the fireball, and sensed a slight increase in the land, he was walking up a barely noticeable slope. He had to think about this. Clive slung his shotgun over his back, fastening it to himself by a detachable strap so he could use both his hands.
Clive fished through all his pockets, searching for something he could use to mark the land, in case he managed to end up in one big circle. He had a small travellers knife to be used in emergencies, but cutting up the last few remaining trees on the planet was not a very admirable thing to do, so he refrained from using it. Perhaps some of his medical supplied would suffice, so he looked through his medicines, antidotes, powders and things, stopping at a small sealed satchel. He opened the bag, the faint luminescence of some pixie dust glowing from within. He smiled, he had temporarily forgotten about the item's nocturnal properties. Clive took a small pinch of the remedy, sprinkling it at the foot of a tree, leaving a musty scattering of lustrous colour that could easily be seen in the darkness. He kept some to spare, and continued walking, reassured that he would be able to find his way back.
Every so often Clive heard faint rustlings in the underbrush out of his sight, accompanied by a hushed and usually grumbling voice. This almost made him chuckle, knowing that although he seemed to be alone, his friends were much closer than he could guess. One time he heard someone fall down and curse profanely, the sniper having to suppress the urge to laugh out loud. Remarkably, Clive was reminded of a game he used to play in his childhood called 'Murder in the Dark', where similar tactics were employed, his gun replaced with rocks and sticks. Being the quiet person that he was, he had won more often than lost.
So, as long as he kept his cool and enacted the game, he would emerge victorious. Clive counted his paces, stopping every ten trees or so to mark one with his pixie dust, looking back he saw the faint trail he had left. He was a sniper, so tracking came naturally to him. This was relatively fun.
Wait a second…
Clive looked down at the burning fireball in his hand.
What if this Arcana is warding away the monster whilst I track it? It would explain why I have not encountered it…
He heard a twig snap, accrediting it to come from one of his comrades. He snuffed out the flame, now scarcely seeing a few inches in front of him. Clive flapped a hand in front of his face, barely seeing the motion at all. Then it happened.
A second pulse, immaterial and localized in his head, began to beat, drawing from his ark scepter. Confused, he felt an intangible force compelling him forwards, his hold on free will wavered somewhat and he followed the prompts, finding his ARM in his hands, ready to fire.
If a Guardian wishes me to fight, then I must…
Clive froze, suddenly aware of a deep ragged breathing close by. He tensed abruptly, impulses telling him to fire in the direction of the sound, but memory won over and he concentrated on forming a large enough flare, hoping it would be big enough to work as a signal. Red eyes glowed in the shadow to his side, the sniper facing them, trigger finger becoming itchy.
Amazingly, the monster's eyes shed an amount of light bright enough for Clive to see by, and the form that met his eyes made his calm attitude fluctuate a bit. It was hauntingly beautiful, from a certain point of view, a huge grey wolf leered at Clive, its red eyes seeming to hold unknown intelligence, and fury. It stood squarely on four legs, bushy tail swishing carelessly from side to side, its long muzzle bearing a set of razor-sharp teeth. It padded over to him in an inquisitorial manner, yet growling deep and low in its throat. It made no move to attack, but Clive knew that it's demeanor could change at any time.
Should I risk a signal? Clive thought, Or should I take the initiative?
No, he had to call his friends. He promised Virginia he would, and he never broke a promise, no matter what. But, if he did so, it would leave him open for an attack, or even worse, scare the wolf away. That was the last thing he needed. Clive judged the amount of damage he could take with those sharp teeth and claws, and decided to risk it, for help would arrive shortly.
The sky above the drifter and wolf exploded in a burst of bright white light, Clive raised his hands to give the Arcana some extra power, dropping what defenses he had. Like a fireworks display, three other drifters bumbling in the shadows of the forest turned their attentions to the clamor, finding their destination pointed out to them.
"Devasta- augh!" The wolf slammed into Clive, furry mass knocking the drifter off his feet and onto the forest floor. It uttered an animalistic growl, acute claws digging into Clive's vest. His Gungnir slipped out of his grip, sliding to a location just out of his reach. The wolf snapped at Clive's face, the sniper tilting his neck to the side just enough to dodge the severe bite. Clive stretched his hand as far as it could reach to grab his ARM, the tip of his index finger touching the cold metal of the weapon. He was not close enough. His other hand shot out, grabbing the wolf's foreleg and tried to twist it to an unnatural angle, causing the animal to howl in pain. He brought his knee up to connect with it's ribcage, then rolled himself to the side, shoving the beast off him.
It recovered impossibly fast and leapt on Clive again as he grabbed the handle of his weapon. This left the drifter's shoulder pushed out and vulnerable, and the wolf saw this very well. It sunk it's teeth into the unprotected flesh, biting through Clive's trench coat and undershirt, making the sniper cry out in agony, blood oozing from the open wound. In automatic anger, Clive lifted the butt of his ARM, and swung the instrument like a club, smashing the steel-capped handle into the wolf's jaw. It released it's captive, shaking the stars out of its eyes from the heavy blow, Clive's blood dripping from it's mouth. He did not break the rhythm of the swing, and struck the wolf again and again, heaving himself to his feet as he did so.
Clive's good hand flew to hold his mangled shoulder together, unable to operate his ARM without both hands. It still made a functional club, though. He staggered back a few paces, leaning up against a tree, glaring death at the beast who seemed to regard him with just as much vehemence. Blood dripped down his arm onto the grass, the warm trickling liquid taking away Clive's strength as it departed. Even as he struggled to remain calm during the fight, his shoulder went numb with a sudden coldness similar to the dead.
Why… why aren't they here yet? They should be here by now…
The wolf howled, a deep mournful wail that chilled Clive to the bone. It's red-flecked fur spoiled the creature's almost regal look, the beast emitting a deadly snarl. Revelation flew through Clive's mind, the tendrils of an idea snaking its way within him.
I have not yet tested this attack, Guardians save me…
The monster charged him, dagger-like fangs poised to tear him to pieces. Clive planted himself deeply to the spot, releasing his wounded shoulder and reaching into his trench coat, removing and tossing several unidentifiable objects to the ground. His gaze flew up, as did his right hand, a mechanism hidden under his coat sleeve discharging a grappling iron. It snared the branch of the sturdy oak he stood under and lifted Clive into the air, off the ground. Though as numb as a limb under anesthetic, Clive forced his injured arm to function, wrapping the rope of his grapple around one wrist so he could handle his ARM with both hands. Feeling the force of his anger block out all external stimuli, Clive swung himself on the rope, unloading the contents of his magazine into the wolf below, the gatling onslaught riddling the animal with countless bullets. The wolf faltered and collapsed to the ground as Clive released himself from the rope, rolling away from the area just in time before the volley of bombs he had dropped previously exploded around the monster.
Clive ended up in a crouch away from the blast area in excruciating pain, he tottered and landed on his back, faintly seeing the tops of the trees pierce the night sky in their majesty. Blood pooled around the area of his shoulder, the warm liquid growing as cold as the flesh it had escaped from. Everything went dark as the wolf's ruby red gaze faded, it's last breath taken. Clive took deep and ragged gasps, the edges of his vision greying. He was losing too much blood…
"Oh my god! Clive!"
He fell into a darkness from which there was no escape.