<u>''B:''</u> How is the job going?
<u>''Witchfinder:''</u> Significantly slower than either of us predicted.
<u>''B:''</u> Indeed. I thought you would have rescued the victim by now.
<u>''B:''</u> But that's not quite what I mean. What do you think of your partners for the job?
<u>''Witchfinder:''</u> ...They're certainly not, well, 'professionals' like you led me to believe.
<u>''Witchfinder:''</u> Some of them are experienced. Although...
<u>''B:''</u> Yes?
<u>''Witchfinder:''</u> I think that
<u>''Witchfinder:''</u> Hold on.
<u>''Witchfinder:''</u> Possible [[enemies]] near. Finish later.Jehan slipped his phone back into his pocket and readied his staff.
The members of the Serpent's Collective didn't make an attempt at stealth. The two of them slipped out of the trees and onto the path ahead of Jehan. One held a knife in each hand, and he smiled confidently at Jehan. The other had some sort of makeshift spear, and he leveled it at Jehan hesitantly.
"Oh?" the man with the knives called, sounding jolly. "Well met, traveler! My name is Vladimir, of the Serpent's Collective. This here is Elliot." He waved towards his companion, who looked uncomfortable at the introduction.
Jehan glanced around the area. He felt uneasy, but didn't see any signs of a trap, and unlike the last pair these two had opened with a dialogue...
"Witchfinder Jehan," Jehan called over to the two of them. "I have no issue with you."
Vladimir hummed, loud enough for Jehan to hear. "Odd," he said. "I've heard that a man fitting your description got into a fight with some of our brothers not far from here!"
Information had traveled between the Collective fast, even despite their separation. They were well-organized, Jehan thought with a frown. "A misunderstanding. I've got a job around these parts -- nothing that would bother you, I'm sure."
"Is that so?" Vladimir asked. "Now, correct me if I'm wrong... that accent of yours. You're northern, it sounds like?"
"Uh," Jehan said, thrown by the shift in conversation. "Yes. You're correct."
Vladimir smiled thinly. "In that case," he proclaimed, "//we// have [[issue]] with //you//."Jehan considered the situation. Of the two Collective members, Vladimir was clearly the leader. The flunky (Elliot) had been silent, looking towards Vladimir for guidance.
Vladimir's final sentence was loud, dramatic, and completely hollow. It was a flimsy excuse, Jehan figured, nothing else, but it seemed to be enough.
Elliot charged forward, his spear extended forward. His sprint was telegraphed, his grip on the spear awkward. Jehan dodged to the side, and Elliot overshot entirely. Jehan swept his staff out and slammed it into Elliot's back, and the man cried out and fell.
Jehan turned back to the //real// threat. Vladimir approached slower than his subordinate, knives in his hands. His movements were calculated -- he clearly had some experience.
"Come off it, mate," Jehan pleaded. "No need for this."
Vladimir smirked and darted forward. His knives flashed forward dangerously, but Jehan's staff gave him the advantage of reach.
Their clash was quick. Vladimir tried to close the distance, but Jehan's staff was too much for him. Jehan danced backwards whenever Vladimir moved forward, and eventually a solid opportunity presented itself. Jehan's staff slammed into Vladimir's wrist. Vladimir hissed as one of his knives tumbled to the ground.
Jehan pushed forward, and Vladimir retreated. The two of them paused, considering the other.
Elliot came up next to Vladimir, grimacing in pain and clutching his spear tightly.
"Well," Vladimir said. He pulled out another knife, a stiletto. "Let's get this over with."
Without a second of hesitation, Vladimir [[stabbed]] Elliot in the throat.Elliot let out a wet gasp, shock written across his face, and sank to his knees when Vladimir ripped the knife free.
Jehan stared open-mouthed, nearly as surprised as the man that was dying. "Wh—" he stuttered, and then, "Huh?"
Elliot fell to the ground, clutching his throat. Blood began to pool underneath him. Vladimir watched him for a moment, face perfectly blank, before he tossed the bloody stiletto off to the side.
"Witchfinder Jehan!" Vladimir cried. "Only your second encounter with us, and already you're murdering our members. How vicious!"
"You- you can't pin this on me," Jehan said, a mixture of shocked, incredulous. Wary. After a second he let slip a nervous, disbelieving laugh. "You were already attacking me on sight! What's wrong with you?!"
Vladimir smiled. "For your sake, Witchfinder," he said, "I certainly hope you don't come across the Collective again. Goodbye."
Vladimir retreated into the forest. Jehan let him go, instead turning his attention to Elliot.
Not that there was much he could do.
A few minutes later, when Jehan was alone, he pulled out his phone.
<u>''Witchfinder:''</u> Quick note: some of these [[cult]] fuckers are a lot more concerning than I had thought.They climbed up the cliff.
The wall that had been blocking them for days had been, in the end, only about thirty feet high. But the climb itself had apparently never been the issue (even if Amelia //had// had some difficulty getting up the cliff.)
No, the real problem was apparently in their //route//. Amelia claimed that climbing directly over the cliff would cost them a few days. Supposedly even more time than they'd spent trying to find a way around.
...But eventually the cliff had gotten too much for Christopher. He had insisted, and they'd climbed over.
The silence had grown particularly awkward since then.
Or maybe Christopher was overthinking things. But the news of the Collective being nearby -- especially with an impassable wall blocking them for days -- had made Christopher tense, and that had infected the air between the duo and he wasn't supposed to really explain //why//, so...
Christopher sighed and glanced around. The two of them were camped near the top of that obnoxious cliff, since Amelia had requested a rest after climbing up it.
Amelia was a good ways away from him, focused entirely on the map, the same way she had been for the past few days.
Christopher angled himself away from her and pulled out the flip phone.
And then [[Nathaniel]] arrived.Christopher froze.
Nathaniel was a big man, taller than Christopher and built strongly as well, and despite that he'd arrived so silently that Christopher hadn't noticed him until he was in clear view.
"Amelia!" Christopher said, panicked, and then he hurriedly went to stuff the phone back into his pocket.
But Nathaniel flung //something// at Christopher, and where Christopher was at least a few seconds away--
--suddenly Christopher was //right next to Nathaniel.//
It was as if he'd just been //tugged// across the landscape and //planted// somewhere else entirely, in an instant. Christopher gaped, frozen in shock for a moment.
He didn't have even a second to gather his bearings. Nathaniel punched him in the face. Christopher dropped immediately, and when he hit the ground the flip phone slipped from his grasp and bounced away from him.
Pain lancing through his face, driven by pure instinct, Christopher grabbed at the phone.
Nathaniel, watching him intently, saw the movement and stomped on the phone, [[crushing it]] to pieces.Christopher stared at the shattered remains of his only contact with the outside world, his hand only a few inches away.
Without any regard to his shock, Nathaniel planted his foot on Christopher's chest, pinning him to the ground.
The whole unfortunate exchange had only taken a few seconds.
"Nathaniel!" Amelia cried, shocked and terrified. "You- you //followed// us?!"
"Of course," Nathaniel said, quiet enough Christopher wasn't even sure Amelia could hear. "We came for you. And to take //this one// back." He turned a glare down at Christopher and pressed down harder.
Christopher groaned, finally turning his attention away from the broken phone. He smacked at the foot on his chest, to no effect, and then-- he frowned, taking stock of himself. There was something on his face, and when he grabbed at it, he peeled off a small square of paper that had been stuck on him. Was this... what Nathaniel had thrown?
Amelia drifted closer to the two of them, wringing her hands. "What," she said, hesitated, "how did you, uh, do... that?"
"Claire's work," Nathaniel said, and he reached down and snatched the paper out of Christopher's hands. He crumpled the paper up and stuffed it into his pocket. "Speaking of. Did this one do anything noteworthy?"
"Hey," Christopher wheezed. "Could you-"
Nathaniel pressed down harder. Christopher winced. His chest was starting to //hurt//, and it was getting kind of hard to breathe.
"Well, um," Amelia said, and then she [[rammed]] into Nathaniel.Nathaniel was a big man.
Fortunately, Amelia had sheer surprise on her side -- Nathaniel had braced himself to stop any attacks from Christopher, but was taken completely off-guard when Amelia charged into him.
Nathaniel fell over, and his eyes went wide. Christopher gasped as the weight on his chest lifted, and he scrambled to his feet.
"Oh," Nathaniel rumbled. He pulled himself up to his feet, and Christopher and Amelia both backpedaled away. Back to their resting site. Christopher snatched his pack from off the ground.
From his pocket, Nathaniel pulled out another square of paper. He threw it straight on, and it flew threw the air like a baseball, unusually heavy and almost too quick to see.
Purely out of desperation, Christopher swung his pack forward, as if to bat the paper out of the air.
An instant later, Christopher's pack //appeared// in Nathaniel's hands.
Nathaniel looked profoundly disgruntled. He dropped the pack to the ground and started to march forward.
A change of tactics. Was he out of those little paper things?
Amelia grabbed Christopher by the arm. It seemed like she had the same idea.
The two of them [[fled]].Nathaniel didn't follow.
The ''Serpent's Collective'' had something of the (css: "font-size: 110%;")[Advantage] here, with their //Numbers// and their //Capability//. Instead, they were prioritizing (text-style: "emboss")[Information] right now. To form a ''Plan of Action.''
They were ''unsure''. So Nathaniel returned to the rest of his little (text-style: "shadow")[cult].
[[... ... ...]]<center>The Puppetmaster was ''unsure'', too.
The phone had been (css: "font-size: 125%;")[''Destroyed.'']
It hadn't expected that.
Oh no. Oh goodness.
All of its carefully laid plans were completely ruined by now.
It would have to (text-style: "outline")[Adapt.] Much more severely than it had thought necessary.
How unpleasant.</center>