Chapter 6: Medicene man
The journey continued, heading west for the first two week and then due north. Heading up the eastern face of the Rocky Mountains. Passing from the swampy eastern coat, they crossed the flood plains and were now over the foothills of the mountains. The Royal haven cast its shadow down over the ground far below, hard distinguishable amongst the clouds they passed through.
At one time they saw another Turbine Ship in the distance. Fears rose that it might be the Prince Octopus, Kraken's own personal vessel, but it thankfully turned out to be nothing more than a transport vessel belonging to an international trading company. It passed by with only collision warning lights to indicate it had seen them.
It was over several weeks since they left the WhitePearl estate. The trip was taking longer than the stretch over the Atlantic as inland winds had slowed the speed of the vessel down to a near crawl.
Before they left, Lord WhitePearl had approached the ship as it was preparing to take off. For a moment Falcon thought that he was here to try and talk Julia out of going again. Instead he simply placed a large rectangular brown package tied up with string in the Englishman's hand.
"Show this to no one outside your group." He stated pushing it away from him as if it carried one contagious disease. "Review what is inside and draw your own conclusions." Falcon was left standing there looking confused. "If you wish to search for those damned stones, then at the very least I can give you the benefit of my experience." He had started before Falcon could say anything and then walked away.
Gourmand had taken to his temporary position as ships cook well, laboring in the galley night and day dishing out meal after meal for both passengers and crew.
Much to the relief of those who knew him well, with a limited supply of ingredients, the chef hadn't the chance to produce any large expansive dishes that he was so found of.
As such he would be found wandering the corridors of the ship complaining that no-one appreciated his unique talents.
Ryoma was often found mediating on the bow of the Royal Haven, sitting there perilously close to the edge with his legs and arms crossed inside his robes. His eyes shut against the world. He rarely spoke and appeared to lack many social skills causing the crew of the ship to avoid them whenever they could.
Falcon was much friendlier. The Englishman regularly had drunken singsongs at the ship's bar, poker games with Gunrock and sparing matches with Wang-Tang. Being naturally what some might consider a 'party animal' Edward Falcon perhaps the one thing that prevented Gunrock's kids from dying of boredom.
Gunrock proved him the adept card player.
"Dawnvolta was much a gambling town as a miner settlement." He proclaimed one evening, beating Wang-Tang's own hand with ease. "Casinos, blackjack; ain't a form of gambling' on the continent that wasn't played there."
At that point most gave up trying to beat him accept the Englishman who didn't know when to quit.
As dawn approached on one day during their journey, Apollus found himself waking earlier than usual. The clock on his bedside table told him it was over six yet his usual rising time wasn't until seven. Still, unused to the notion of sleeping in, he picked himself up.
The young master's bed on the far side of the room was empty. The bed covers lay completely undisturbed from where the staff had laid them.
Dressing himself quickly, the Old Butler ventured out in search of the wayward Falcon.
The first place he looked was the bar, expecting to find him hunched over a table in alcohol induced slumber. Gunrock was there, one hand on a pint glass and the other laid flat over some playing cards on the table he had collapsed on. He reeked of alcohol and was snoring loudly.
But there was still no sign of Falcon.
Walking onto on deck, Apollus glanced around but the only people here where the crew who had just relieved those on the night shifts. The mountains they were following north stood out like the towers of a cathedral to the ships left; jutting peaks piercing the dense layer of cloud they were sailing upon.
The old Butler walked further out until he was nearly at the bow. Ryoma was there, sitting perfectly still despite the harsh wing tearing around him.
He was so still and silent that Apollus could not tell at first whether he was awake of asleep.
"If you are in search of the Englishman, you will find him in the dining rooms." The samurai stated without opening his eyes.
Taken aback a little, Apollus hesitated before bowing with a curious thank you. A small smile passed over Ryoma's face at the familiar gesture.
Sure enough, Falcon was exactly where Ryoma said he would be. Sitting alone at a table in the dining area of the ship with books and notes piled high before him. To the casual observer, it looked as if he was studying.
This was so out of character that Apollus paused at the doorway for a brief moment, before walking inside.
Dozens of cups full of coffee stains sat on tables around him, leaving marks on the surface.
"Have you up all night young master?" Apollus asked. Edward rolled his eyes up, showing them to be red from lack of sleep with highlighting dark rings. His pilot goggles lay on the edge of the table and his red jacket was undone with his white scarf loose around his neck.
"What time is it?" He asked.
"About six sir." Falcon blinked and glanced over to the clock on the wall. He started to swear but a yawn reached his mouth first and silenced the words before they could emerge. "Might I inquire as to what you are working on?" Apollus asked, glancing over the piles of notes and books that lay on the open table. Most of it was written in English but there were a good lot of rubbings of ancient Egyptian hieroglyphics. Drawings were amongst the documents, sketches images of ancient ruins and the entrance to tombs buried beneath the sand dunes.
"Lord WhitePearl gave me these before we left." Edward Falcon stated, balancing his head on his arms. "They're the field notes from his expedition to Egypt, where he found the Dark Stone." Apollus picked one of them and glanced over it.
The English words referred to an ancient set of ruins located the south of Egypt, although exactly where they were was not specified. The hieroglyphics Apollus hadn't a hope of understanding. "I've been looking over them all and any related texts he could give me for any clues."
"Clues as to what?"
"In all references to the Power Stones made through the mythologies of any culture I could find all describe the unique relationship between the Power Stone of Shadows, the bringer of death and the Power Stone of the Sun, bringer of life.
If we learn exactly where the Dark Stone was placed, then using what we …"
"Then you might be able to discover where the Light Stone is." Apollus finished for him. Falcon just nodded once.
"Whatever this 'Tomb of the Visitor' was exactly, someone didn't want the mainstream historians finding out about it, I can't find a single other reference to it in the British museum archives lists Erode sent me.
This is odd because according to Lord WhitePearl it was a trip with English financial backers."
"Made any progress?" The old Butler asked, not being able to make any sense out what was written here in front of him. Falcon shrugged.
"I'm no historian and my knowledge of Ancient Egyptian is somewhat lacking." He stretched out his arms until he heard a snap and then relaxed his shoulders. "But even if I had the knowledge, so far I'm not seeing what Lord WhitePearl was hinting at when he said 'the benefit of my experience.'"
"Perhaps Young master, the fact that you couldn't find this in the British achieves is what he wanted you to see." Apollus ventured. Falcon looked up with a raised eyebrow. "If someone wants this kept a secret and the Power Stones are involved, then that could mean trouble for this expedition further down the road." The Englishman blinked and glanced down at the papers in front of him with renewed curiosity. "And if I'm right in saying so sir, the only ones who can censor that kind of information are people in very high positions of power."
"I was thinking along similar lines Apollus." Falcon replied. "But there's something else that's been bothering me about what some of these hieroglyphics say." He traced his finger over some of the markings in the rubbings. "I think they refer to a war, a conflict that flamed between three nations. Ancient superpowers that fought for dominance in the eras before modern civilization."
"Which conflict was this?"
"That's just it. I can't find any reference to what war it takers about, although it may be safe to assume that one of these super powers was ancient Egypt."
"And the other…" Apollus began." Perhaps one of them was Atlantis." Falcon shook his head.
"No I've ruled out that as a possibility. Unfortunately that leaves me with more questions than answers." The Englishman ran his fingers through his hair and he yawned. "I'm certain that ancient war had something to do with the Power Stones. I just don't know what the connection might be." Apollus stroked the end of his moustache.
"Perhaps you should get some sleep Young master. Approach the dilemma when you're refreshed."
"Yeah I guess that's a good idea. Maybe a shower too." Falcon rose from his seat, his shoulders slumped showing his fatigue. "Clear the stuff away and put in back in my room will you Apollus? I just don't seem to have the strength to lift anything right now."
Wang-Tang was up early as usual, practicing his skills on the deck at the back of the ship; remaining steadfast on one foot with his arms out stretched out beside him, palms vertical. Slowly he descended, then brought his foot up sharply slicing the air with a kick, before arching over and delivering a precise strike into the wind, his wrists pressed together and hands flat to mimic the action a blunt weapon.
Then turning on the ball of his foot; he about faced and charged at the strung up sack dummy that had been placed on the deck for his use. It received the first two blows across its stitched clothe chest causing it to swing back and as it did it caught the end of Wang-Tang's kick.
The target swung back through the air on its rope and was made still as the boy delivered a perfectly timed strike that canceled out the forces in work. The dummy was perfectly still, as if it hadn't even been struck.
Wang-Tang breathed out a long sigh as he relaxed his muscles and stood up straight. The cold air of this altitude was crisp and the winds cast away the residue of perspiration leaving him feeling refreshed.
The mountains he could see them passing by were quite a sight to behold. Mile after mile of towering jagged terrain the ground beneath them mostly a red brown with the tops turning white. Their northward course was leading them out of the states and up across the northern border into Canada.
Julia had again not told them exactly where the next stone was but what she did say however was that according to her sources, the stone lay with people who would not be willing to part with it. That made simply making the owners consider the idea a task in and of itself.
"An artist unappreciated in his own lifetime; that is what I am!" Wang-Tang glanced up to see Gourmand stride out onto desk, a fist closed around his white apron as he waved it in the air. "My artistic cooking genius is squandered on those who can not appreciate it."
"Perhaps if you were to cook less…" Wang-Tang began but the words froze as he recognised the murderous glint in the Italians eye.
"I could have been working for the best restaurants in my home country." Gourmand carried on. "Respected far and wide as the greatest chef whoever graced Rome with his presence!
But no, I had to answer the call of the English swine!" He snorted and wiped his nose on the back of his sleeve and leaned over the rail; staring off at the horizon. "Those people won't know great food if it came up and punched them straight in the face." A funny image appeared in Wang-Tang's head at those words at Falcon having a boxing match with a side of fresh cut beef but banished the nonsense quickly.
Without warning the deck beneath their feet lurched forward and Gourmand toppled backwards to roll across to the far side. Wang-Tang reached out and grabbed the rail for support.
Gunrock was tossed from his drunken slumber across the bar to crash into another table breaking it in half.
Busy picking up the papers in the dining area Apollus lost his balance and whatever he had picked up were cast into the air.
Julia was roused from her sleep when her cabin was tilted to the side by the sudden lurch and she was thrown out of her bed.
Tumbling out of the shower in his room completely naked, Falcon struggling to regain his balance as the entire Royal Haven tipped back and forth.
Ryoma's eyes slowly slid open. Staring up the ship he watched as dark clouds began to gather with the wind around them howling in rage.
Thunder roared ahead of them, sparks of lighting rippling through the thunderhead.
"We're heading into a storm. Will all passengers please return to their cabins and crew report to their emergency duties?" The voice of the captain announced over the Turbine Ship's intercom as the turbulence grew worse by the second.
The wind suddenly grew angry and strong, stinging the faces and eyes of anyone who ventured out on deck. Snow and hail began to churn with it, striking the crew as they struggling to sheath the sails.
Julia hurried to dress herself and hurried out of her cabin, the entire corridor outside at an odd slant. Crew members were hurrying past, having to lean on the wall for support.
"Take us higher; we'll go above the storm." The captain told the helmsman, who simply nodded and swung the controls down. The Royal Heaven's bow began to tilt upwards as the ship gained altitude, heading higher and higher.
Ryoma stood up and watched as the stop from the vantage point of a bird eye view. A colossal thundercloud sparking with increasing ferocity as the snow just below lashed at the hull.
Something was wrong here. The storm itself was not what was bothering the samurai. Just that it was forcing them to ascend, leaving the ships belly exposed.
As if in confirmation, a loud blast from the ground rang out followed by a whistling. Ryoma had heard those sounds before.
Anti-aircraft fire!
The shots struck the Turbine ship across the bow and the effect was felt everywhere. The floor beneath the feet of the crew shook tremendously throwing the helmsmen from his post, leaving the controls free to move. The Royal Heaven's ascent ended suddenly and the vessel suddenly went into a nose dive, heading directly into the heart of the storm.
The captain threw himself at the helm and forced the ship up, trying desperately to keep it from crashing. Another two shots rang out, these one smashing directly into the fan on the port side of the ship. Molten metallic fragments were blown out from the rotor and the ship began to fall again; plunging down and down into the darkness of the storm.
Ayame was dropped out of her bed as the force of gravity seemed to shift, making the floor the ceiling and the ceiling the floor. She cried out as she landed on her arm, still in a sling.
"Only in America…" Falcon growled to himself as he bundled out of the shower, hurried dressed with his jacket undone and his scarf hung over his shoulder. "What the hell is going on?" He demanded as the corridor before him tilted down to a point where he could slide down it.
"The ship has been hit." Ryoma replied, darting past the door, sliding when he reached the odd angel so he could move after. Falcon stared after them before breaking into a run.
"What do you mean, been hit?" He asked, drawing level with him.
"Auto-Aircraft batteries." The samurai stated without looking back. "Someone is trying to shoot us down!"
"Shoot us…" Falcon repeated by the words defied in his throat as the ship shook under the assault from another direct hit.
Round a corner the two of them almost raced directly into Julia. Miss WhitePearl collided with Edward, who simply looped his arm around her and carried her ignoring the fact all she was wearing was a nightdress.
"I can't keep her aloft." The captain grunted, trying desperately to keep the helm from spiralling out of his hands but lacked the strength. Just when it was about to be torn from him, Gunrock's large hands closed around two of the handles; his own colossal strength helping to keep it steady. "All crew and passengers brace for crash landing!" The captain yelled into the intercom.
The sharp decent of the Turbine ship only got worse as they plummeted through the lashing grey clouds.
The captain pulled down on several levers and a blast of compressed air shot out from valves underneath the ships bow, managing a counter effect that slowed their velocity down enough for Gunrock to finally bring the ship out of its near vertical plummet.
Unable to bring the ship back up however, the best he could do was ensure that mountaineers would not be picking their pieces up off the hillside.
The ship came down hard onto the ground, scrapping its hull across breaking off several rotors from the fans and a sail going along with them.
Emergency anchors were fired from the deck, huge iron hooks scraping along the ground attached to reinforced icon wires. Several snapped under the stretch when their hooks sank into the earth, flying back to slamming through the wood of the deck.
Firing every last cubic meter of pressurised air inside the tanks, the captain forced the counter measure forward until the forces in almost in exact opposition to each other. These cancelled each other out and the ship began to slow, grinding through the mud and dirt before finally it came to a stop. Almost immediately the heavy snowfall began covering the crash sight, the flakes banding together into a blanket that threatened to engulf the ship completely.
It did however put out the many fires.
"Great good lord." Apollus managed, finding himself upside down under several lopsided tables and chairs. The glass of smashed glasses and windows scattered all across the slanted floor of the dining area. The electric lights were flickering on and off and the only decent illumination was coming from the broken windows, half concealed by a cold snow bank.
Pushing the debris off him, the old butler looked himself over for and injuries. At his age he was more frail than other men, but luckily it seemed all he had sustained were a few cuts and bruises that would heal in a day or two.
Gathering what he could of Edwards' research papers in his arms; he picked himself up and tried to stand. The floor was on a slant and it made reached the door at the door a bit of a challenge.
"Young Master Edward?" He called out into the corridor. There was no reply. There was also no one in sight.
This unnerved Apollus more than if he were to find a corpse waiting for him.
Traversing the corridor at the slant was easier as there was a rail to hold onto for support. Slipping the research notes into the pocket on the inside of his blazer, the old man began to pull himself up towards the top where another corridor met it.
"Can anybody hear me?" He called out and listening.
"Apollus…" Came a weak reply. A door down the corridor to his left was open. The old butler descended as quickly as he could and stood in the doorway. Lying there on the floor was Ayame. Some of the furniture had fallen over in the chaos and was pinning her legs to the floor.
"Hold on young miss, I'll have you clear in a moment." He told her, slowly climbing down into the mess and picking what he could off her. But several items proved far too heavy for him to lift. He was simply too old to move the large metal chest of draws and had never had the muscles for it in his youth anyway. He tried but the heavy piece refused to even budge.
Hearing a noise behind him, Apollus looked back to see Wang-Tang stumble into the room. Seeing the girl trapped there, the boy wasted no time and came to the butler's aid. Together, the two of them slowly hoisted the metal object off her and with this leeway; Ayame was able to crawl out.
"Are you alright?" Wang-Tang asked her as he helped to her feet. She had a few cuts down her legs and bruising where they had been pined but beyond that nothing serious. She simply hung onto his shoulders refusing to let go.
"Have you seen the young master?" Apollus asked. Wang-Tang shook his head. "I left Gourmand with the crew on the bridge. Gunrock and his children are there. The only ones unaccounted for besides you and Ayame are Miss WhitePearl, Falcon and Ryoma."
"We must find them at once." The butler stated. The boy just nodded once in agreement.
--
When Falcon dared to open an eye, he found his nose almost lodged in Julia's bosom. Thankfully he was able to dislodge himself from that compromising position before she had a chance to notice.
"Move." Came a disgruntled voice from behind clenched teeth. Falcon looked up to see Ryoma standing over them, his arms spread out either side. His face was strained and sweat was running down his forehead. Upon his shoulders held back from collapsing on top of them all was a tide of rubble and debris, just waiting to crash down. Without a word Falcon pulled Julia into his arms and dragged her clear.
Unable to keep it up any longer the samurai pulled his arms back and darted to the side with all the agility he could manage, narrowly avoiding behind crushed as the rubble came tumbling down.
"Is this ship insured Julia?" Falcon asked.
"Against storm and firearm damage." She replied.
"Good."
"I am not knowledgeable in American politics." Ryoma admitted turning to the young woman. "Are there are factions within your country who would wish to shoot a Turbine Ship down?" She shook her head. "Bandits maybe?"
"Not with artillery."
"Whoever shot us done, they'll be sending a search party to scout the wreck." Falcon added. "We should find out what the extent of the damage is and then get away from here." The Englishman reached into his robes for his Power Stone. Julia backed away from him at the sight of it, fear springing into her eyes.
"Please… keep it away from me." She begged. Falcon held it close to him, hiding it from sight with the back of his hand.
"Power Fusion!" The gemstone flew from his fingers and sank into his chest, its elemental energy flowing through him. His coat and trousers changed, moulding themselves into armoured plates.
Once the transformation was complete, Falcon set to work clearing the debris off the door of the room they had blundered into in order to avoid being crushed. His enhanced strength allowed him to move large objects with each. Once the pathway was cleared he flew outside finding that the corridors mass was almost completely hurried, having collapsed from above during the crash.
"Power Explosion!" Compartments all over his body opened up and missiles flew forward, smashing into the rubble and clearing it out of the way.
The Royal Heaven was in very bad shape. Both sets of fans had completely snapped off and various structural damage had been inflicted along the hull.
A quick patch job was not going to get the vessel back into the air. The captain could see that at once. The snow storm outside was growing worse and according to his tactics officer they could not risk radio communication for help in case the hostiles that shot them down were monitors the air waves. Which means they either stayed here and faced the likely prospect of being surrounded by whatever enemy had cared enough to shoot at them or go out on foot through the worsening weather.
"Hush now its ok." Gunrock told his youngest child, who was sitting in a corner quietly sobbing. "I know, all that big noise scared you."
"Its not that." The kid replied, brushing away his tears. Gunrock looked a bit surprised.
"Then what's the matter?"
"He stole my cupcake!" He jabbed a finger amidst the tears at another sibling; who whistled and looked away trying to look as innocent as he possibly could."
"This-isha fine kettla fish." Gourmand grumbled, putting his hands on his fat hips lapsing back into his heavy Italian accent. "Stranded is hardly the fate for an exquisite preparer of fine cuisine such as myself." Most were ignoring him. "Mamma was righta, I should never have left Rome."
"Will you keep that thar ruckus down?" Gunrock barked over his shoulder. "We've all got a hard enough time without your whinin'!"
"I'll complain and whine whenever I like!" The chef replied tapping his foot impatiently. "Who here's gonna stop me?"
Gunrock clenched a large fit directly in the smaller mans face, tightening his muscles so the veins under the skin stood out.
"I am." Despite having lost the advantage of height, strength and power to this man already; Gourmand met his contemptible gaze with one of his own.
None aboard the ship were aware that they were being watched. Dozens of eyes observed the crash sight from the tops of the snow piles, their bodies pressed low in the white to avoid being spotted.
Their leader made silence hand gestured to the rest of them, giving out his orders without saying a word.
Those to his left nodded once and descended back down the slope, distributing the instructions to those gathered below.
"What do we do if they are armed?" One of them asked the leader in their native tongue.
"We outnumber them and we have the element of surprise." He replied, judging the distance between their hidden position and the crash sight.
"The shaman will not approve of this." Another stated.
"The shaman is a pacifist." The leader snapped, pulling his protective furs around himself to shield himself from the cold. "Not a warrior. His does not understand the ways of battle.
Now ready yourselves. We must kill whatever foul demon in human skin emerges from that craft."
Some distance away, a single man stood staring up at the cloud ridden skin with angry eyes. Snow fell onto his broad, unprotected shoulders yet he did not seem bothered by the cold. The only clothing he wore was leather-skin trousers and shoes of the same material. A red band was tied around his forehead, holding a feather with a red tipped feather at the back of his head.
His skin was red like all Native Americans and across his face was a red mark that sketched from one ear, over his nose, to the other. His long hair was raven black and tied back to hang near his shoulder blades.
Sighing loudly he pushed the hilt of the stone flint hatchet back into his belt.
Only a few moments ago, a terrible sound had torn through the sky and the native had watched as a Turbine ship plummeted out of the clouds to crash somewhere on the mountainside.
"Fear has clouded their judgement." He sighed, kneeling down. His companion, a wolf held her head close to his hand and he gently nuzzled her chin. "Although that much should have been expected."
The shaman Galuda was a man who deplored the violence of man. He had seen it far too many times before as the settlers from the east drove his people further and further west until finally all they were permitted to live upon were the near inhospitable regions of the continent.
Then wept as the land was torn asunder in their inequitable hunger for metal ore. The rape of the land he and his ancestors had worked their entire lives to maintain happening before his eyes.
Yet despite this he had give permission of the acquisition of an anti-aircraft gun, a weapon of the hated settlers, considering it a necessary evil in light of the coming threat to his people.
Still, he should have expected something like this would happen.
This a blunder that he himself would have to put right.
"I have called upon your skills much this day, but I hope you can lead me to the source of this trouble." The wolf gently licked Galuda's fingers before trotting off. The native stood up before following as the wolf broke into a run.
Born when the power of the settlers were nearing its height and his people were still regarded as savages, Galuda was marked by the stars to be a shaman; a man more aligned with the balance of nature than any of his kinsmen, able to read the currents of wind as if it were a book, speak to the animals of the world as if they were blood brothers and sense the flow of energy that maintained the balance of the world. These were rare abilities that few in this modern world possessed.
With their tribe's chieftain now on his deathbed, Galuda had assumed responsibly for leadership of the tribe until such time as the chieftain recovered or the son came of age.
As such it was his duty to protect and guide them through the trials that lay ahead. Blood and death lay ahead for not just them, but the entire world, before the prophesied struggle came to an end.
The wolf up ahead howled and stood on the edge of the short cliff. Galuda joined her and gazed down upon the foothills below.
The wreck of the ship was clear, the debris scattered across the snow. It did not appear to be too badly damaged.
The shaman growled, watching several dozens men move from projected hidden spots on the hills down towards the ship.
Blinded by fear these young men had committed a great wrong and it seemed they did not intend to stop there.
"I must put a stop to this at once." He announced. "You must go. This is my task. Hunt for your own food." The wolf looked reluctant to leave his side but after he petted her a few times, she howled once more before heading back into the safety of the trees.
-
Their numbers far greater than that of the ships crew the native men thought it an easy task to take the ship for themselves and do away with such a great threat.
Their were met with the flash of steal as Ryoma came at them head one, his katana blades slicing through the air; breaking their spears as they lunged at the samurai. Men with axes came at him next. Blocking the swings with a slash of his sword, he brought his leg sharply around knocking their feet out from underneath them.
Bows with arrows of flint were readied and Ryoma darted low to the ground, avoiding the first shots. Before the archers could try again, a blunt metallic projectile soured out nowhere towards them.
"Power Missile!" They barley had enough time to recognise the tongue of the settlers before two of them were struck down by flying metallic fists.
Bursting out of an already broken window, the still transformed Falcon flew through the air before landing in the knee high snow. The vents all over his body discharged heat and it melted around him.
The natives backed away from the sight of a metallic man with glowing yellow eyes, burning with heat that melted the snow around him.
"They are the demons! They are the demons!" Their leader declared. "Kill them!"
The other natives who had made it past Ryoma and Falcon found other places of resistance within the ship itself. Those trying to make it down the starboard side were met with a blur of kicks as Wang-Tang stood in their way, Ayame at his side. Her shuriken tore through their armour and left them staggered backwards as they were wounded.
And then those who managed to get past them had to face the worst pair of all. Blocking their way to the bridge were two men. One taller and incredibly well built and the other small and fat; but armed with a large frying pan and a butchers knife.
"I don't believe you have permission to be aboard." Gunrock stated, cracking his large knuckles as his shoulder fell over them.
Julia watched from the sidelines as Falcon unleashed another of his Power Stone propelled attacks.
"Power Explosion!" The hatches over his armour opened up and a swarm of missiles shot up into the air before coursing down. They were warning shots, fired just above the native men and into the hill side; causing a small avalanche to cascade down on top of them.
Those that struggled out of the snow did not take the warning to heart and picked their spears and axes back up before charging.
Ryoma darted in and at close range, brought his blades across their arms. The cuts were not fatal but caused enough pain to cause them to falter and drop their weapons. Any who tried to fight back were sent crashing down to the snow as blows were dealt to the back of their heads.
Their leader, still not discouraged, picked up and charged at Falcon with a stone axe held aloft.
The Englishman readied another attack.
Before either of them could strike each other, another axe spun out of the air and sunk into the ground between them. Both of them stopped in their tracks.
"That is enough." A voice stated.
Not recognizing the language Falcon turned to see another of the natives standing on the slope. He was bigger and larger than the others and far better built.
"These are the demons you warned us about Shaman." The Raiders leader stated, jabbing the tip of his axe towards Falcon. "They must be killed!" With an unimpressed look on his face, the latest arrival slowly descended the slope and walked casually towards them both.
Ryoma readied his sword but the man passed the samurai by without even looking at him.
"Young fool." Once he stood before the younger native, he stared him down and the raider leader slung away as is silently disciplined.
"Lay down your weapons, all of you." The Indian barked back and instantly they did as they were told, placing their axes and spears down. "You have all greatly disappointed me this day." While not understanding the language, Falcon understood the tone and recognised the strict lashing tongue of a parental figure. Reading the situation, he dismissed his Power Fusion form and dropped back to his regular self; his stone safely concealed in his pocket.
Cautiously Ryoma lowered his swords.
The large native turned to Falcon and studied the englishman for a momment, before smiling.
"Greetings." He said, in a clearly learned english. His accent hard to follow. "I am Galuda, shaman of the Lupine Tribe."