abraxaslogs | [ CLOSED ] eyes black, big paws

[ Geralt slows to a stop while Steve does what he needs. Roach paws the ground nervously before he soothes his mare. It isn't merely the dust; the lightning above would unsettle anyone, and none more so than a horse. He hasn't stepped into the Badlands, but he suspects even the beasts out there might've taken cover in their nests.

And unlike usual, the birds are absent. Hiding.

When Steve emerges, Geralt gives the steed he's chosen a once-over, decides the horse is suitable, and continues alongside him. Between the drumming winds and Geralt's habit of saying very little, most of the ride is in silence until they reach the foot of the northern mountains.

He glances up the jagged slopes, then slides off of Roach. Best to go on foot from here. He shoulders his sword. Tendrils of lightning spark like roots through the heavy clouds. He isn't eager to face what the winds will be like as they climb higher. As soon as Steve joins him, Geralt nods towards the rocky pathway, an indication for Steve to take the lead. Something tells him Steve has a better sense of what they're looking for. ]

[ Steve's aware that Geralt would have said something if he thought the rented horse wasn't suitable, and he's glad that it seems to have passed muster. They set out shortly after and it's definitely eerie, traveling in this kind of weather with every other living creature having found shelter. The horses are brave to keep pushing forward at their urging, though Steve can sense that the one he's riding is close to spooking, its tail whipping around with uncertainty.

The ride isn't that long all things considered, and the wind blows hard enough that trying to have a conversation during it would be a fool's errand. The only time that Steve speaks up is to confirm things about the terrain as they navigate, what path is best to take on horseback, all of which he trusts Geralt to know best.

He's become practiced in riding while here, but the fact remains that he's a city boy through and through, only really learning the ins and outs of the desert after he settled in Cadens.

They do eventually reach the base of the mountains, though, and at that point have to get off horseback. They find a sheltered area to tie up the horses where they'll be as safe as they can be, and then it's time to climb.

Steve doesn't mind taking point, though, and now they're close enough to each other that they can talk, even if they still have to raise their voices. ]

Did you notice that none of the lightning seemed to actually strike the ground anywhere while we were riding? I kept thinking we were going to come across small brush fires, but...

[ Even now, while the sky frequently brightens with streaks of lightning, it all seems to be localized far overhead. ]

[ The dust adds a loose layer atop already dehydrated soil. His footing is careful as they ascend. ]

Mm-hm. [ Hard not to notice. It is not unusual for lightning to travel between clouds, but it's something else for it not to strike the ground even once. Can't complain about the lack of brush fire on top of all this fucking sand, but it's...

Unusual. And not exactly a comfort. ]

It's concentrated over the Singularity. Magical weather is not my area. A mage I spoke to believes it's unnatural.

[ Something they could estimate well enough, but confirmation is helpful. In any case, the reason Geralt is here, climbing this damn mountain with Steve and not investigating this weather, is because he frankly doesn't know shit about where to start. The voices, the visions, the storm. All of it speaks to spectral forces beyond their containment.

And nothing he can put his sword through. ]

What do you make of it? [ Steve's world remains strange to him; perhaps, along with massive machines, they also have large relics that can spawn a tempest. ]

[ "Unnatural" seems like the only possibility for a storm that does that, and Steve isn't exactly surprised to hear that it's localized over the Singularity. He's never made the trip out to the physical monolith, only seeing it from a distance in the Horizon, but from what he's studied of maps that all checks out.

But it doesn't really make him feel any better about it.

If Geralt is hoping that Steve might have some personal experience with this sort of thing, well... not exactly. ]

Thor was the God of Thunder, not me. [ He does wonder what Thor's perspective on all of this might have been, or if he might have had the ability to sense what exactly was causing this, but he left ages ago, so there isn't much point in dwelling on it. ] Still, if this is a sign that something is wrong with the Singularity, then my worry is it's going to get worse before it gets better.

[ The storm might not clear until something changes, but how are they supposed to know what to do about it? Steve also feels lost.

He continues to navigate their way up, and so far the incline doesn't require any actual climbing, just maneuvering over ridges. ]

What mage did you talk to? Someone in the Cities, or another Summoned?

[ There aren't many who would actually call themselves mages in Cadens, so far as he knows. ]

[ Thor. Now that's a name he's not heard in many moons. He makes a thoughtful noise. The last time the Singularity expressed some instability, that's precisely what happened. Grew worse before it got better. This is the first time it's impacted the world at large, though. In the past, it was simply—in the mind. Contained to the Summoned themselves.

This feels much bigger.

As they reach a narrow gap, he pauses to let Steve pass first. ]

Istredd. In Thorne. [ He follows close behind. ] I know him from the Continent. He's an expert in monolithic entities.

[ Ones like the Singularity. It may not be identical to what exists on the Continent, but the commonalities are undeniable. Besides, Istredd is the best they have. No one else would have travelled to the crater to collect a container of dirt. ]

[ Steve doesn't mind going first, and he takes a few steps back to earn himself a running start before he sprints forward and leaps to clear the gap with ease. He turns to make sure that Geralt does the same, but isn't expecting a simple jump like that to trip either of them up.

He nods at the name, because it's one he recognizes. ]

We got to know each other while all of us were on that island. [ Now that Steve thinks of it, Istredd was the one to come to his aid when Geralt attacked him in a frenzy, but he doesn't bring that up now. ] If he's an expert, then does he have any guesses about what could be causing this? Or... maybe we need to ask someone who has a special connection to the Singularity.

[ Steve knows that there are people among the Summoned who have become particularly close to the monolith, like those who received some kind of warning about the monsters from the rift. Maybe they would have some sort of special insight?

Though as they continue upward, Steve hears a sound different from the howling wind. It's hard to tell what it is with so much other noise, but he pauses to really key into it. A steady beat — like that of flapping wings? ]

[ His feet hit the ground not far behind Steve. There's a small pause, as though Geralt almost forgot about how Istredd and Steve must've met. He hasn't, of course; it's just...blurry. In truth, he doesn't so much remember attacking Steve as he does attacking someone he later discovered was, indeed, Steve Rogers.

Geralt makes an amused noise. ] Unfortunately, expertise only carries one so far.

[ Istredd knows the most of all of them, but much of this remains a new field of study, not only here with the Singularity, but back home with the monoliths, too. They'd hardly scratched the surface of those ancient relics.

He's about to say more. Add that, like many of them have already estimated, Istredd believes the Singularity grew unstable due to the interference of the Ikorran artifact. But the distinct and heavy beat of wings flapping diverts his attention. He glances up, squinting through the thick dust. The shadow looms closer. Larger.

Grabbing Steve by the arm, Geralt yanks him down with him. He rolls under an overhang as sharp gold talons swoop from above. ]

[ It's true that if any of them actually had the whole answer, they wouldn't be speculating like this. Still, Steve is interested to hear what Geralt has to say, even if he's only passing on Istredd's thoughts on the matter.

That will have to wait, though. Both of them know that a potential threat can't be ignored just so they can chit-chat. Geralt's reaction confirms that Steve wasn't just hearing some random background noise caused by the strong winds; something is out there.

By the time that he registers the shadow cast over them, they already need to be moving out of the way, and while Steve might have had the reflexes to dodge even without Geralt's help, there's no certainty of that; the talons, curved to a sharp point that he's pretty sure could cut to the bone, barely miss him as he's dragged back and down. ]

Shit—

[ He glances to look at Geralt for a split second, which is the only thanks he can afford right now. He grabs his shield from his back and settles into a crouch as he watches the massive winged monster circle around and arc upward so that it can ready itself to divebomb them again.

The fact that it can fly in this sort of weather is frankly impressive, and it also means they can't underestimate it. ]

You ever seen one of these?!

[ He calls to Geralt over the din. Geralt makes his living by hunting, so it's possible, but how often does he go into mountainous areas like this? Now that Steve has a better look at it, he makes note of the monster's massive leathery wings and long tail. Those both look like they could be weak points. ]

[ Seems they're destined to find themselves fighting something or other. ]

Mm-hm. [ He's fought his fair share of wyverns on the Continent, killed a handful here. Not all wyverns are the same. This one is as fast as it's small (in wyvern terms, at least; its wingspan still stretches across the sky). The creature cuts through the powerful wind, circling. There must be a reason it's out here. Hungry, perhaps. Most of its prey must have fled or burrowed deep underground to escape the storms. ] Don't let it scratch you.

[ Geralt draws his sword. He hates when they fly. Makes for more trouble. And they're supposed to be keeping their trip quiet on top of that. A wyvern is not subtle. Could this not have waited until their return?

A screech echoes from above. He peers out from under their makeshift cover, then glances back at Steve. Hm. What is a shield except a large discus? ]

How far can you throw that?

[ Twirl if you must. ]

[ Don't let it scratch him? Okay, sure, Steve wasn't planning on it, but with the way that Geralt says it he's going to assume that the talons on that thing will do more than just slice him open. Thankfully he's wearing pretty protective gear, but he knows for a fact those talons are sharp enough to slice right through all those layers if he's too reckless.

It's true that this may end up making such a commotion that it will completely blow their cover, but there's not much they can do about it now. The winged beast is obviously a predator, and now that it knows they're here, it isn't going to just forget about them and move on. They need to bring it down.

Steve clenches his jaw as he hears that loud, piercing screech. Hopefully the cacophonous winds are still loud enough to drown that out other than in this immediate area.

At Geralt's question, Steve glances down at the shield for a beat and then back to those inquiring gold eyes. ]

Far. [ Far enough, he wants to hope. ] What did you have in mind?

[ Far is sufficient. He takes the answer for what it is and points to where the wyvern is circling. The dust obscures most of its form, but its wingspan is difficult to overlook. ]

The wing. It'll land.

[ Any creature that flies won't stay in the air if it injures a wing. Once they bring it down, they can take care of it quickly—and with some luck, discreetly. But they need to draw it closer, too. If it lands too far away, it won't do them any good.

Geralt shrugs off his cloak, leaving it under the overhang. Steve has the shield; that leaves him with the less desirable role.

Without another word, he ducks out from behind their cover and into full view of the wyvern. He trusts Steve won't leave him waiting too long. ]

[ This isn't the first time that the two of them have quickly hatched a plan against a formidable foe. In fact, the very Thunderjaw that they're here to investigate was the first real example of that, the proof that they were more than capable of coordinating in the heat of battle and working together.

Somehow, it always ends up being Geralt who takes the role of bait to draw the monster out. Then again, as much as Steve is also willing and ready to do that, he's used to it this way too; Thor and the Hulk had been just as likely to throw themselves into the fray while he remained at a distance.

At this point, it's all about timing. He needs to wait long enough for the wyvern to get close, but not so long that there's any danger of Geralt getting sliced into by those talons.

Still, this is what he does, and the only thing that's different from usual is how he has to mumble a few words under his breath to cast the spell that will help him control his shield once it leaves his hands.

He throws the metal disc out once the beast flaps close enough, clinging to it with his mind to guide it through the air. With how hard the wind is blowing it's tougher than usual, but this is what all the practice was for.

The hit isn't as spot-on as he would have liked, but he does hit the tip of the wyvern's wing; the hard metal of the shield is more than strong enough to crack a few of those hollow bones. The creature shrieks and does a short, panicked circle in the air before it redirects to land.

Although with the trajectory it's taking, it looks like it's going to touch down right on top of Geralt. ]

Out of the way!

[ Steve manages to shout a warning before he refocuses to mentally draw his shield back toward him. ]

[ The rough winds make holding his ground difficult; he can hardly fucking see, but he can hear the whistle of the shield as it slices through the air. The magic it emanates makes his medallion thrum lightly, and it is the first time Geralt realizes that Steve is using a spell to guide it across the distance.

The wyvern reels. It spins before gaining control, though not enough as its one wing desperately tries to fight the gale. Lightning sparks above.

He stays put, almost as if he didn't hear Steve. He plants his feet, watching its shadow loom over him as it descends. The span of its wings blocks some of the dust; he can glimpse where the bones have snapped in its fragile limbs and the shape of its belly tells him it is a she with new hatchlings for the spring. That must be why she's emerged to hunt despite the storm. To feed her young. There isn't much they can do; her wing is already broken, and she will not survive long one way or another in this weather.

So he gives it no further thought. He lets her swoop down to land, ducking out at the last instant with his sword drawn, narrowly avoiding a sharp black talon. The wyvern pierces herself atop his blade. Her abdomen splits tail to throat, and she skids across the sand, crashing against the overhang Steve has taken cover behind. ]

[ It all happens in a matter of seconds. Geralt's movements and every beat of his timing in battle reads as if it's all been calculated in advance. In truth, Steve knows that it's more the result of years and years of experience doing this kind of hunting, which allows him to adjust accordingly to every danger in almost any situation.

The shield returns to his grip only a few moments before the downed wyvern skids right toward him. Realizing that the momentum is going to send it crashing against the wall, Steve leaps to one side and ducks into a roll to avoid getting pinned by the beast's mass.

The creature screeches, the sound full of pain and loss, and Steve watches as it twitches with the last vestiges of life. Its wing broken, its front split open — even a beast this large can't last for much longer.

When it comes to who can give the cleaner and kinder final blow, Steve knows that Geralt's deadly sharp blade will be the best option. As he pushes back to his feet, he nods to Geralt, figuring he already knows what has to be done. ]

[ Its dying screech pierces through the howling storm. He can hear its slowing pulse and laboured breathing. It all cuts off abruptly when he severs its head. For a second, he watches and waits to be sure it's dead. Instinct. Not every detached head signals a death knell.

This one does.

He shakes the blood from his sword. Then he offers Steve a hand up. ] You undersold how far.

[ Another time, he'll have to ask Steve about that shield. He's never quite seen anyone go into battle with only a shield and no weapon, but he's equally never quite seen anyone use a shield in the same way Steve does. For now, he shoulders his sword again, prepared to carry on. No point in lingering. The storm will only grow worse as the day goes on and he wishes to return home before dark.

Or before they're caught. ]

[ Steve takes Geralt's hand, trusting that the wyvern is well and truly dead, and huffs out a noise near to a laugh. ]

Kinda hard to explain in the heat of the moment.

[ But now Geralt has seen it firsthand. Steve knows that his fighting style is unique, to say the least, and a lot of that is the result of not being formally trained and mainly just feeling things out with the shield. Until Natasha gave him some proper hand-to-hand lessons, that is.

He returns his shield to his back and with that they continue on, leaving the carcass to rot or maybe even be swept down the mountain road by the sheer strength of the winds. The good news is the storm is so incredibly deafening that no one seems to have noticed their presence on the mountainside, and while the rest of the journey isn't exactly a pleasant stroll, no other creature is desperate enough to ambush them in these conditions.

Some time passes, and Steve wonders if this is all going to turn out to be a bust. It was all on a hunch, following rumors and little more, so it's entirely possible they'll find nothing. But as they reach some level ground on the side of the mountain and continue down the makeshift path, he spots something in the distance: a deviation from the typical rocky cliffsides they've been staring at for hours now. It's difficult to see with all the sand and grit blowing into their faces, but there's something built into the side of the cliff face.

... A door?

There's sudden movement from that direction and Steve acts on instinct, ducking behind the closest boulder that will shield them from view. He knows that Geralt will follow his lead, if not move in sync with him, their senses equally attuned. ]

[ The remainder of their journey proceeds in blessedly uneventful silence. Geralt keeps one eye on the ground for signs of any other beasts nearby, though he doesn't expect tracks to stay long under these dusty gales. On occasion, he's come across other travellers or merchants on the mountains, or sometimes what he suspects are simply nomads. Now, there's merely the two of them and the endless sand.

A part of him is hoping they will find nothing of note. It would not mean there isn't anything to find, but no news is good news.

If only.

He slides in next to Steve. He hates how much he can't hear over the storm. Normally, the winds would carry voices towards him. He glimpses the same hidden door, however, and the movement of men nearby. It must be something significant if they're out here in these conditions. The door opens a second time. Then nothing. Just quiet, as if there was never a soul in the region. After a minute, he glances at Steve and shakes his head. He isn't certain what Steve is thinking, but he hasn't any plans to risk getting closer. Not until they're sure that what's in there is worth getting caught for.

But now that they've found it, he knows he can track his way back. And he thinks...he might recognize the scent of one of the men should they encounter him in the city later. Hard to say. ]

[ Maybe it would have been better to find nothing, but on the other hand, that would have left this entire situation shrouded in mystery. Seeing this, they now know there's something going on.

Steve's made reckless choices in the past and had them pay off, but he knows this isn't the time to go charging in. They don't know what they're dealing with or how many soldiers are even inside this secret base, and the storm introduces too many variables into the equation.

So when Geralt shakes his head at him, a quiet now isn't the time, Steve nods in agreement.

At least he confirmed what he had already suspected, which is that the military dragged the Thunderjaw off for a reason. And it can't be anything good. ]

We should head back before the storm gets any worse.

[ And then he'll have to share this intel with a few trusted people. ]

[ CLOSED ] eyes black, big paws

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