The Gunner:
Listen closely… closely. Ah, is that footsteps or detritus? Rhythmic and steady- that’s the merc, alright. Distance? I’ll have to take a look-see.
I pin myself to the wall beside the window frame, careful not to clatter my gun’s stock on the sil. From this second storey window I can see out into the gloom of the streets below. A thin mist settles on the packed-dirt road itself, but the flagstoned areas sit above the level-a shallow lake between low islands.
Focus, not the time to admire the scenery! What else can I see? Oh, flashes of pinlight at random, so it’s the witch? This could go badly for me.
I'd fought the ‘Blind Mage’ before; a costly mistake of hubris from the beginnings of this war. Her magic was subtle and hard to understand at a glance, unlike the Rabbit Witch, who is said to be working with her these days. They might call this one a mage, but they're all witches to me.
As she gains ground, the flickering lights become clearer- eyes trained in combat adapting to the swift changes, parsing the flashes into their true horror: Hovering eyeballs, wreathed in a slight golden light.
Fuck this… I won’t fall for that this time, Kaera my sweet; I know that image is just for show.
When thinking of eyes it’s always assumed that they work like humans expect them to- an eye pointing south sees only south, naturally. Not for the Blind Mage; no, her eyes are more like a pulse of mana, gathering information in an expanding sphere for the instant it’s present.
The Mage:
A response- not much movement, but enough. It’s on the very edges of my current search region though, so half measures will not suffice.
I close my eyes, then cover them with a thick cloth blindfold; the less overlap between my eyesight and mana sight, the more fine my mana perceptions will be. With mana I can gather far more spatial detail than the simple depth gained by two human eyes.
A few wide range pulses and I have an external detail map in three dimensions of the entire district: a maze of brick-and-mortar buildings in long terraces that run into one another at odd angles; lines upon lines of telephony and electrical cables above street level. Home to a writhing mass of nighttime scavenger-birds, waiting to pick at the corpses they are sure will amass before long.
The mist is unseen but represented at street level by a distinct fuzziness to my mana sight; a problem seen again belowground, as water runs in drainage pipes, disturbing the mana as it passes through.
Movement once again; this time I use a true-sight ping to fill in the space with true colour, far beyond the spectrum the human eye can parse. Through a window easily penetrated by mana, a vase of flowers in all colours and glows that the arranger would never have known.
In the small room, pressed against the wall, I see a man, or perhaps a boy--teenage, likely. I recognise this one and swiftly recall the name we assigned him in our records- Musketeer.
-CRACK-
The sound of air rushing into a vacuum resounds in the room, a space in the shape of a clumsy sword sweep; I did not aim for the male, as I need not touch him to incapacitate.
The Gunner:
Shit! Shit, shit shit! Straight away!?
If I hadn’t known this trick already, my eardrums would have ruptured!
The moment I registered the disturbance with my rather pitiful mana senses, I knew she’d found me; I had only a split second to cover my ears or her favoured vacuum implosion spell could have left me deaf… or worse, unconscious and an easy prey. I roll quickly, grasping my rifle from against the wall where it'd settled and make for the door.
From the disaster of our last encounter, I believe her perception spell works something like a beefed-up echolocation; she can sense through solid matter easily, but if the medium changes again and again, she loses information.
Basically I’ve got to find a better vantage point while keeping this batty witch-bitch several streets away to cover my movements.
Hah, batty.
I had to ditch my more unwieldy baggage as I fled, so it's equipment check time now I'm on the move. Starting with my ever present mistress of murder-
Bitch! She nicked the woodwork! Didn’t even know that spell had a… shit, is that some kind of annihilation or relocation spell? What the fuck are they feeding this monster?!
She’ll pay for that, however now is not the time for emotional outbursts. Satchels are fine; spare magazine’s spring broke, but I have 6 clips left, 5 rounds in the current mag and one in the chamber. Seven of six, so forty two shots; not enough now I’ve already been found--even before the shooting starts.
Run first, fret later.
The Rabbit:
Ah, he was found already. The poor soul.
Seems like he’s gained a reasonable read on the girl’s tactics after they met in the outpost assault. That said, if he just keeps running around, he’s going to run out of stamina long before she runs out of mana.
I’m currently floating quite comfortably on my broom, way above Kaera’s detection range, but if I interfere she’ll know in an instant; not a lot I can do to hide my mana’s influence within her territory.
How boring...for now I’ll keep an eye out from up here until things go any further off-script.
He’s limited in what he can carry, so presumably the boy left most of his supplies in his lookout spot. Few dozen shots from that fabulous rifle and it’ll be down to close quarters combat for him.
He has backup coming ahead of dawn, so for him it should be no small victory if he can burn the mage through her mana before it can become a massacre.
I do hope he can drag Kaera into CQC; I’ve never seen her use that knife and it’s just killing me not to know if she wields it well. A vain hope, but a girl can dream.
I glance back towards the Blind Mage just in time to spot her descending some stairs to a railway underpass. She’ll use that to expand her mana senses through the rather more homogenous medium of the ground, rather than the city itself. Good for me, as it allows me more freedom from her senses, but bad for the Musketeer.
Chance! Time to recover the lad’s gear.
The Gunner:
I haven’t felt this cornered in years! Fuck, I knew she was difficult to deal with, but last time I was just an extra to the fight.
I must have been running for only 5- 10 minutes now, but stress has my heart hammering and fatigue building far faster than I’m acquainted with. I've created a good amount of distance between me and the witch by now, so I should have some freedom to rest.
Good moment to take a better look at the gouge in the wooden trim of my weapon. Hopefully there’s some clue as to how her spell works; I’ll take anything, honestly. Even the tiniest hint could be the difference between life and death when she next strikes with it.
There’s a slim gash diagonally along the wooden forward grip- about enough to rest my index finger inside. At the edges of the groove, the wood is disturbed and the grain is missing.
“Well that’s new. The grain is gone… which means the wood has been packed tighter into place?”
Muttering to myself as my mind works backwards from effect to the cause... She shifted the mass outwards; the wood must be denser where the mass from within the gouge has been redistributed.
“She tied the mass of the space to the ambient mana, then shifted it outwards before letting go. The vacuum then had to be filled and a shockwave was created in the air from the energy… or something along those lines”
That voice was NOT mine.
Shit, what the fuck!? Not that witch, Kaera... and nobody else should be here!
I leap away from the source of a rather childish, sing-song voice above and to my side. My ankle knocked the wall I was leaning on, too. Better not be damaged because I’m about to run… or I was, until I saw what the newcomer was carrying.
“The Blind Mage is currently using the earth as a conduit for her senses, so she won’t see me here as long as I’m not touching it,” the Rabbit Witch informs me; as if it explains everything about her sudden arrival.
I find myself frozen in indecision, despite my training. I should run, but the rabbit-eared sorceress has my packs- those I had to leave at my hideout. Is she helping me now? I have no idea what her game is, but she is well-known for not taking sides; I hadn’t truly thought about it, but there was always something slightly fishy about our intel that she was working for the King.
The cheerfully smiling witch certainly doesn’t look like she’s about to attack me: she’s lounging on a simple wood-and-straw broom--looks more comfortable in the air than I have felt in months of rough camps and minimally-funded barracks.
Oh, so now I’m jealous, instead of scared? I want my tension back! Stress keeps me awake and thus alive.
Seeing her up close, I can certainly see why so many fear, respect or adore this dangerous woman: she is a beauty seen only from witches who have changed themselves- her perfect features both intimidate and enchant.
Her clothes are well-tailored but equally well-worn. A light jacket over a thin shirt, metal boned bustless corset and a dancer’s loose trousers. All a mix of dark greys, earth yellows, browns and the odd brightly coloured trim in reds and blues.
Her feet are bare, yet clean- when was the last time she walked the ground?
Her short, mostly untamed hair of a fiery red peeks out from below an enormous, pointed witch’s hat in a gunmetal grey; designed to be both protection from the elements and a clear indicator of her power.
I doubt her hat’s protecting her hair from any rain given the massive holes cut out for her ears.
A nameless wonder with large, slightly floppy rabbit ears (and a cute fluffy tail to go with them, though I don’t see that from my angle): The rabbit witch of legends.
Well damn, spellbound without even being touched by her magic. Time to focus!
