III. SEMI-CLOSED.

[glandival]

WHO: Alistair; Gavin; Hercules Hansen; Malcolm Reynolds; Martel; Sabine
WHAT: When a small team go out to close a rift on the frozen river, Sabine catches an errant pain laser shard.
WHEN: Now's good?
WHERE: Emprise du Lion
NOTES: Demon violence, and a rude elf.

It's the first time Sabine's seen one of these things up close without immediately running away.

The rift twists several feet in the air, an unsettling green-tinged distortion, and tongues of brighter emerald magic touches the thickly frozen surface of the river. Occasionally, these touches seem to strike the ice with the force of a lightning strike, demons erupting out of nowhere, shrieking and maddened and twisted by the overwhelming sensory input of the waking world.

In the background, a snoufleur pays no attention.

It's hard to walk, let alone fight. The three shades that remain seem to glide along the craggy ice with ease, and the heated run off from the rage demon in the midst of it all makes slush out of the ice in the paths it cuts, steaming pillowing off its molten hide like smoke. Leather scrapes ice as Sabine skids to her knees, aiming her arrow towards the rage demon, and firing. She is dressed more for battle than cold weather, her nose and the tips of her long ears pink, her fingers bare as they nimbly take another feathered end of an arrow from her quiver, lining it up again.

They're winning, slowly. Two disintegrated demons mark the spot they perished on the ice, and the shriek of another conveys imminent death.

Comments

[twelvelabours]

Last bastard of a demon down, courtesy of a bit of help from Max and a final strike with his blade. He's quick to turn towards Sabine and the people gathering around her. Angry, Orlesian - well, she's alive and feisty, at least.

"Do you need a medic?" Herc asks as he moves towards all the rest, blood still helping stinging his eye and forcing him to keep it closed. Only a small gash, really, but it's the location that's the real pain. He's not all the way over to them, hasn't seen the shard, and people standing about not doing much but looking aghast isn't clearing much of this up for him. He's never seen someone get hit by a shard for that matter, either.

[aintwejust]

Jayne, well. Jayne does what Jayne does- runs around to clear the field, make sure what all's down stays down. Were there people with armor and things to pick over, Mal'd start that up to but everyone's huddl'n up over li'l miss archer and he don't see much reason to not walk over his own self. Mal ambles, peers at her arm, at her, and promptly offers the only appropriate help a non healer can give.

He unhooks a flask from his belt and offers it over. "Makes it hurt less."

All good bog whiskey tends to make everything hurt less.