Summary:A search turns up with nothing, but curious results. Oliver and Jean mark their last and only stand. Log Info:Storyteller: None |
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3 1/2 HOURS TO MEMORY LOSS:
"NO!" Jean screams out, her hands attempting to reach for the wrist of the 'thing' that slices his own throat. She finds herself upon her hands, the black mists surrounding her wrists as the being dissolves right before their very eyes. "Dammit!" A fist strikes the ground now, as she stares into the darkness, trying her best to pull from anything.. but nothing came forward..
A deep inhale is given as she rocks back upon her knees, her bottom settling upon the balls of her feet as she glances up towards the sky. The beings here, whether being controlled or not, were pretty ruthless. It was a lesson she was quickly finding out.
Her hand rubs against her face, which soon slaps against her thigh as she rises to her feet to face Oliver. And soon, her hands rise as if to gesture around. "We have nothing. Not -one- thing that'll give us any idea of what happened here." She looks around, then back to the ruined village. They.. really didn't do a search of it at all..
Minions falling on their proverbial (or literal) swords doesn't happen often, but it's not unprecedented. The thing where they evaporate is a different story. Oliver stirs a boot through the leftover ash, then shrugs. "Relax. We just got to this shithole. Let's take a look around."
He jerks his head toward one of the cottages, then sets off in that direction. "Let's make this quick. Unless we find something big, we still have a good idea where we're headed."
"You know, that's the -wrong- thing to say to a lady. Relax.." Jean scoffs, it may have been in jest, but it may have not. Who could tell! "Alright, lets. So you take the far south side of the village and I'll stay over here." She gestures. It wasn't a very large village, just something that they could cover in at least a ten minute walk.
With most of the previous trek that they had covered in green, this area was bleak and covered in ash. A few of the cabins or makeshift huts that were about were nearly smoking with ash from the inside, while others looked to be smashed open and broken apart. A tiny market that remained in the middle of the small town, emptied. Fruits and vegetables, cloths and random baubles were broken, scattered and mushed into the mud with various sized footprints to follow.
It was clear that it was a struggle, and that some rain had passed through. Possibly even scavengers. And now? It was completely barren..
"Oh, and my many tabloid appearances have led you to believe that I'm good with women?" Oliver chuckles, but nods to acknowledge his faux pas. "Shout if you need anything."
There's not much to see, at least on the surface. It looks like any number of burned out hovels that he's come across, albeit even more backward due to the setting. At first, he keeps an arrow drawn and places his feet carefully with each step. A few minutes later, it's become apparent that either no one is here or if they are, they're hiding very thoroughly, which amounts to pretty much the same thing.
Having reached the market, he kicks a clay cup that's been trampled in the mass exodus. "Nothing here," he calls. "Whatever it is, it happened a while ago. At least a few days. You find anything?"
Like Jean would read the news! Well, she does..
But her search turned up nothing. There were a cabins and homes that were overturned, but it seemed that everything was in place. A few drawn pictures on the wall that were half torn, which were taken down by Jean, and left to float upon the ground as she walked away. Clothes were still there, strewn. Food turned over upon the table and already buzzing with flies. It was as if someone just up and ran, and took everyone with them.
Hearing Oliver turn up with nothing as well, Jean emerges from her last place of searching. "No.." She states, finally stepping down and into the middle of the makeshift road, looking towards where the wyvern flew off. "Nothing. And you want to know what's funny?" She asks, turning to watch him, wondering if she should approach or not. "Not a drop of blood, or -anything- that would show that at least someone had died here.." She puckers her lips, then gestures with her chin towards the path they've recently travelled. "What's our timeline?"
Oliver nods his agreement. There isn't much in the way of clues, not unless they're willing to comb through the entire site. And that's something they don't have time for. "We have a little more than three hours left," he verifies. "Now that we know the route and we did something about your skirt, I think we can make it back in one. So the question is, do we push on, or do we go back, recharge, and try again?"
Either option has its merits. Another hour gives them another chance to bring back actionable intel. But if they get caught up for any meaningful length of time, two hours to get back might not be a very comfortable window.
Then Ollie laughs and gives his head a quick shake. "We don't have to go anywhere," he realizes. "The creepy swordsmen and the tiny dragon clearly take orders from someone. Smart money says that the dragon already told its boss what just happened here. I'll bet they come to us."
"Three hours.." Jean murmurs to herself, considering. She could push herself and fly towards where the wyvern escaped to, but that would burn up her reserves and leave them particularly handicapped when it came to battle. But she was sincerely considering it; Oliver was good with a bow and Jean was 'okay' with her hands.
His laugh takes her out of the moment though, her brows raising as he makes the realization. And.. there was some truth to it, they really don't have to do anything, or go anywhere. All it was right now? Was just a matter of when..
"That makes sense.." She says quietly, then lifts a hand to tap her finger against her chin. "I doubt they'll get here in three hours. But.." She purses her lips tightly. "..what if we leave and come back, and make this place the only and final stand?"
"The Alamo?" Oliver tilts his head consideringly. "I like your style."
He spins in a slow circle, taking in their environment again, but this time as a potential ambush point. "I have some things stashed outside the dome. We should be able to use them to make this place even less hospitable." A pause while he points a gloved finger at the marketplace, then nods. "I'd rather not fight to the death, but if we're going to take the chance, we might as well have a couple of explosions."
"Yeah, the Alamo.." She says quietly, twisting her head back and forth. It seems she was still on the alert, creating a mental buffer to make sure that no other surprise attacks were coming. "We should probably head back, then. Tell me Mr. Oliver Queen, are you afraid of heights?"