The magician rolls on the ground in pain, yet his roll is towards some logs that will hide him from sight. Stogie levels the red dot on what he can see of the man, and squeezes off two shots.

One is all I need, Bessie. All Stogie's shotguns are called Bessie. A man on a farm, alone with nothing but the dogs and sheep... cut him some slack.

Bessie keeps her end of the bargain. Stogie fires again at the downed man, striking him in the neck. If it's not a fatal blow it soon will be. To remove all doubt, Stogie fires a third time. A third hit and this time there can be no doubt that this man is dead dead dead. His blood mingles with the dirt of the forest floor while his eyes stare lifelessly into the moss and ferns. Somewhere, his summoned spirit breaks free and returns home to its metaplane.

Stogie lowers the shotgun and takes a deep breath. Memories flood his mind: burning barns, slaughtered sheep. How many thugs like this will it take? he asks himself. When will it be enough to make up for farm and livestock, and Molly and Mungo, Heidie and Jimbo?

The answer that lurks at the back of his mind frightens him.

He walks on stiff legs to the dead man and opens his mind to the astral... to be sure of the death, and to see what auras might still be there. The sound of gunfire back at the water drifts in his consciousness. I've taken out at least two. But I should get back....

The world gets chaotic in front of Ellesar. The man he shot rolls around in agony. Suddenly, a spirit materializes in front of him. Ellesar watches with feelings of dread mixing with professional interest. Is this the Ork Sister's spirit, come to tear the man apart? So much for Ellesar's attempt to disable the man. But, no, that's not what is happening. If anything, this spirit looks concerned about the man. It shields him with its body, blocking any easy shots from Ellesar's angle. The man Ellesar shot seems comforted by the spirit's presence; he gets a grip on himself. He glances down at his leg with clenched teeth to assess the damage and then... POOF! Disappears! Ellesar can still see the spirit but not the man. Is this the spirit's doing or did the man do it to himself? Before Ellesar can dwell on matters for too long, another spirit appears! This time it's a cackling little imp of a fire spirit. Ellesar recognizes this one as clearly the Sisters' work. Such a spirit appeared one night to help cook dinner. This time it has a mind to cook something else. It gabbles at the spirit protecting the downed man, which growls in return.

Another spirit lurches to life out of the waters of the river. It has a squat, dull look that's also reminiscent of a spirit observed at the Sisters' camp. It sweeps toward Gunny and the two other men in the middle of the river. To Ellesar's left, he hears a large figure bashing through the forest in his general direction. Without closer observation it's uncertain whether the figure is closing in on Ellesar's position or on the man that Ellesar shot. Similar, Stogie detects movement to his right. The man who was watching the perimeter seems to be headed toward the sound of the shotgun blasts. Whether this is brave or stupid will only be apparent in hindsight. That said, it's clear that these are no two-bit hoodlums; these are men who rush toward the sound of danger.

The fire spirit steps forward and unleashes a hose of flames with devilish glee. The other spirit - a beast spirit in the form of a wolf - tries to evade but it gets caught by the blast. Or was the beast spirit intentionally trying to position itself in front of the flames to protect its master? The wolf yelps as the flames roast it fiercely. The fire spirit advances, its energy aura radiating heat in a fiery halo around it. The forest - dry from the Indian summer, the forest floor covered in loose needles and dry tinder from the wind storm - starts to burn around it...

Stogie snaps out of his haze and starts at the sound of someone coming through the bush.

Jake, Stay down.

Stogie backs away from the dead magician, perpendicularly to the approach vector of the unknown person. Some bushes still with leaves, a tree fallen partway over to rest his firearm, and a clear line of sight to the fallen man ... the ambush is set.

Ellesar starts briefly from the eruption of the forest ahead of him before regaining his composure. He considers the unknown target approaching from his flank and decides to adjust his position around the tree. He steps around it to the right, exposing himself to a greater degree from the front but allowing potentially life saving cover to his left.

Reloading, he takes his time to remain as hidden as possible. The next shot could wait if it meant staying unseen.

In front of Ellesar, a battle rages between the Sister's fire spirit and the other man's beast spirit. They snap back and forth at each other, the fire spirit getting the better of the exchanges. The beast spirit strikes back but the nimble fire spirit slips it easily. The flames along the dry forest floor begin to spread as the two spirits slide back and forth, jockeying for position. Smoke begins to rise, the wind from the valley taking it uphill toward Ellesar. It's light smoke for now but may obscure his vision if the fire spreads.

The man approaching from Ellesar's left (whom he is now facing, in cover) is no lightweight. His heavy footsteps and his bashing through the bushes suggest that he is very large, either a sizable ork or even a troll. His approaching steps suggest that he is ignoring the battle between the spirits for now. He seems to be headed straight for Ellesar's position. Between the smoke and the heavy cover from the trees and branches, plus whatever camouflage the man is wearing, Ellesar can just barely make out the man's outline maybe 50 meters away.

In the river, the water spirit splashes down into the water before swirling around Gunny's lieutenant and then engulfing him! The man struggles, splashing as the spirit tries to drag him into the water and press the air out of him. Gunny stomps over to his lieutenant's position, irritated by the whole proceeding, and promptly throws his fist in the spirit's face a few times. Doesn't Gunny know that mundanes can't hurt spirits? The spirit, unable to dodge properly due to the engulfing in progress, tries to soak the blow and promptly finds its face smashed in. It's the most successful assault against a body of water since Xerxes flogged the Hellespont during his invasion of Greece in 480 B.C. Gunny's lieutenant breaks the surface of the water with a violent gasp as he pants for gulps of the mountain air.

At Stogie's position, an ambush is being set. Stogie looks around quickly and finds an excellent vantage point. There is a beautiful Western hemlock growing out of coarse woody debris from a nurse log. The trunk splits about 1.5 meters off the ground, dividing neatly into a Y before the two trunks continue in their separate directions. Stogie has a magnificent position behind the trunk with a firing lane through the nook of the Y. It should provide protection for his chest and lower body and unobstructed sight lines ahead of him. He then does much the same as Ellesar, watching and waiting for his target to present a clear shot.

Until this point, Jake has been keeping his head down in cover as he has been instructed to do all these years. He knows what Stogie is planning, and knows the value of secrecy in an ambush, but breaks the silence with barking! Loud barking! Stogie, danger! Stogie!! Jake smells something that should be there and all of a sudden Stogie's magnificent vantage point is starting to feel very exposed from the rear. The hair on Stogie's neck begins to rise...

Shit!

Stogie curses his stupidity. He lifts the shotgun barrel and rolls around the tree, ending up facing the other direction, hoping he interpreted Jake's warning correctly.

A memory of that time the cougar almost got him flits through his mind. One of these times I'm gonna pay dearly.

Stogie whips around, bringing his concentration to bear on the forest behind him. The first glance shows nothing amiss. Things are moving, sure, but that's natural in a forest where the winds blow up and down the river valley. Branches sway and bushes bounce up and down all the time.

But Jake's barking is specific, and the overwhelming sense of danger encourages Stogie to concentrate hard for just one extra second. Then he sees it: the forest is coming alive and moving toward him. His heart lurches as his brain immediately presents multiple possibilities, the way brains do in emergency situations. It could be:

- a nature spirit summoned by Gunny's men come to ambush him from behind;
- Toothy under some sort of concealment; or,
- or a man in a chameleon suit stalking up on him with a giant gun.

Stogie's instincts - and the laws of probability - tell him the third option is the most likely. He can make out the outline of a form but it's still difficult to discern the overall size or shape. He has a direction to fire at least, but picking out the center of mass will largely come down to luck. Switching to astral vision might present the target more clearly, but it always takes an extra second to switch and process what you're seeing, plus shooting while astrally perceiving is like operating your body via remote control. Your head is still connected to your body but your mind is elsewhere. It's disorienting enough for Stogie; how bad must it be for a projecting magician like Smohalla? Stogie hopes Smohalla is alright, but the next three seconds will go a long way to determining how alright Stogie is himself or whether he'll be joining Smohalla on that astral plane in the sky.

Stogie's powers of perception are beyond those of mortal man. Time slows down for his eyes and ears, giving him time to take in everything about the scene. The ripples of the disturbed air created by the man's suit, the glint of a camouflaged spur extending out of his arm, the vague outline of an SMG in his hand.

The man is sneaky, you have to give him credit. Stogie is one of the most perceptive men alive but this guy still managed to get a drop on him. Still, no matter how quiet or invisible you are, suppressing your scent isn't necessary for most covert ops. Thank God for Jake, right?

The only catch is that Stogie's muscles aren't as fast as his senses. He swings his shotgun around but not before he's met with the chick-chick-chick of suppressed burst fire spitting in his direction. The fire is wild and swings in a wide arc. By all indications the man was intending to use his spur after sneaking in close enough to do some throat-slashing. Having a target spin to face him is not what he expected, and he responds with unfocused, untargeted bursts.

Still, the distance is too close to easily miss, even if the gun is waving around in a figure eight. Stogie feels two of the rounds slam into the armored plates covering his ribs and chest. Stogie's hyper-alert perception parses the sensation before his body even has time to register the pain, or assess any damage. The first shot feels like a bowling ball dropped from a height of three meters; the second shot feels like being on the wrong side of a sledgehammer. The armor stops the rounds, spreading their kinetic energy over a larger area, but this is still going to hurt like the dickens in the morning, should Stogie survive that long.

Years of 14 hour days hustling bales of hay and a thousand other jobs around a farm hardened Stogie to pain and fatigue. The shots hurt like hell, but he stands his ground. Payback is due. He aims the Enfield and lets go two shots, a touch shakier than normal, but at this range he would have to be epileptic not to have a decent shot.

Jake! Away from me, boy! Down low. Keep the dog that just saved his life moving under cover through the bush, and maybe get some small distraction into the assailant's mind. Jake circles right, moving in a crouch rather than up at his full height. It's not like he's running through the bush, it's like he's flowing through it.

Jake pushes through the low-lying ferns and brambles, hugging the ground as he scoots along the perimeter.

Stogie winces as the low-caliber SMG rounds flatten themselves against his armor. He brings his Enfield around and fires two slugs at the source of the SMG fire.

Maybe it's the chameleon suit making it hard to find the center of the target but Stogie sees his two rounds cut through the branches and foliage directly across from him with no indication that they hit anything of substance. His eyes spin wildly as he tries to reacquire his target, who is almost certainly doing the same to him.

Jake waited for further instructions from Stogie as he circled the Other. "Away from me" means come around behind and drive the sheep to Stogie, but this is no sheep.

The Kill Sticks solve the dilemma for Jake. No time for circling and driving. The Other is not to be herded. It is a danger to the flock. It must be killed. Jake builds his body the way Stogie taught him. He gathers his legs beneath him for a strike.

He calls back to Stogie, Kill Stick high. Jake low.

Ellesar eyes the target as it moves ever closer. He had hoped that the trees would remain their safe haven, but the feeling of a trap had always been there. Gunny was rash and headstrong but he had plenty of resources and a plan; a dangerous combination in even the most untrained hands. With most of his body still protected by the tree Ellesar felt safe, but that would make shooting much more difficult.

He reaches up and flips his goggles into infrared, hoping for an easier shot on this hidden menace. Pulling the gun up to his face he slowly moves further into view of his target, using the tree as a shield for the left half of his body. He aims low in order to avoid any fatal wounds and pulls the trigger.

Ellesar has a tricky shot on his hands. The subject is large, certainly, but is climbing uphill with long strides. Aiming for the leg or knee - much smaller than the torso, certainly - is made that much harder by the downward angle of the hillside slope.

Ellesar flips over to thermographic vision, hoping the body heat of the subject will stand out against the cool forest. While targeting he notices some heavy flaps covering the target's knees intermittently as he walks. Nuts, it looks like he's wearing a lined coat. While not as armored as an armor jacket or a camouflage suit, its protection does extend the length of the legs, although the leading leg does emerge from it's protection on each uphill step... Still, this just got harder.

The red dot sight gives Ellesar an edge. He hovers it over the leg, leads the target just a little bit, then squeezes the trigger. It's a hit! A large burst appears on the lined coat just where Ellesar hoped to strike. But the target doesn't even break stride... in fact, he changes directions accordingly and now appears to be running directly at Ellesar's position!

The man bursts through the trees and the branches and Ellesar can now clearly see that he has shot a troll, to little effect other than to anger it. The troll is maybe 50 meters away but his long legs are now running. The uphill will slow him down somewhat but he looks very athletic. Ellesar only has five or six seconds before Bozo here is on top of him, or decides to introduce him (up close and personal) to the Mossberg AM CMDT that he's carrying.

The troll charges up the hill at Ellesar, firing as he advances. It's suppressive fire: a blast from his shotgun on wide spread that's intended more as a friendly "Oh hello! I see you there, friend! Perhaps you should duck!" than a killing blow. No doubt the troll is hoping that Ellesar will retreat behind the tree and wet himself while the troll closes the distance.

The shot is excellent, and at this distance the buckshot spreads out into a nasty cloud that's hard to avoid. Ellesar has the tree to protect him plus some top-of-the-line armor, but he'd still prefer to avoid taking a stray pellet in the eyeball or somewhere tender. Even a minor cut could put blood in his eyes, which would not improve the survivability of the situation.

The troll lopes forward with a primal yell, largely lost among the surrounding gunshots and fighting.

Stogie's mind calls back to Jake's. No kill. Take arm with kill stick. Like we train.

A rush of images fill Stogie's mind. Dogs of all kinds practicing taking the weapon arm of an assailant.

Jake bunches his hind legs under him. He leaps from the bushes, springing his body: coil, release, coil, release. Like a missile he rushes the camouflaged man. With the last release he launches himself toward the arm with the kill stick.

The man sees him at the last moment, but barely begins to dodge as 50 pounds of snarling fury hit his arm, sharp teeth locking into the meager armour the man wears. Jakes weight pulls the arm off target of Stogie and the momentum pulls the man over, dropping him to the ground.

Jake hangs on, tugging, twisting and snarling, his teeth digging tightly into the arm.

A flush of emotion floods Stogie. Atta boy, Jake.

Stogie adjusts his shotgun to aim at the downed man.

The shimmering image of the man looks like a human outline of crystal clear water. As Stogie watches it looks for all the world like Jake just tackles the forest itself and drags it to the ground. Jake grabs the man's right arm and yanks back and forth viciously, pulling the SMG completely off target.

Jake has the gun arm so luckily he's safe from being shot. However he is vulnerable to whatever the man has in his other hand, which happens to be a shock glove. Stogie can't get a good bead on the man due to Jake being in the way. He's forced to watch as the left hand comes up and slaps Jake in the ribs. Jake lets out an involuntary yelp as his muscles convulse, ironically locking him onto the man's arm even harder. Stogie's mind burns with a hot sensation that feels like Jake's bones are melting and vibrating violently. The man himself gasps as the electrical current completes its circuit and travels back into his own body. His back arches as the shock rips through him before grounding into the forest turf. Jake collapses to the side, twitching, leaving the man open for Stogie's furious retaliation.

Stogie's mind clouds with memories of other dogs, other gunners. He advances slowly on the prone man, levels his shotgun and let's off two quick shots at the man who hurt Jake. His state of mind sends the first shot wild, but the second is right on the money, punching a hole into the man's shoulder through the armour.

The kick of the gun clears Stogie's mind a little. Enough to allow the man he once was to speak. "Give up or die."

Give the man credit: he's a professional, with a professional's desire to go home at the end of the day. His surrender is largely a formality. Jake's muscles are locked up which means that this guy's forearm is still in the vice-grip of Jake's jaws. There's no way he's going to be able to swing his SMG into line with a border collie hanging off his arm, and it's likely that even flinching in that direction is going to earn him another open wound like the one that Stogie just ripped out of his left shoulder. He's put in his time today so he calls it quits. He right hand relaxes, sending the SMG to the ground. His left hand is tucked against his left shoulder, trying to apply pressure to the bleeding. The blood seeps between his fingers and starts to color in his transparent outline.

Stogie keeps his gun aimed at the prone man. "Once my dog stops twitching and let's go of your arm, I'd appreciate it if you could shift over away from your weapon... And my dog. The rest of my team is a damn sight worse than me, so I'm happy just dealing with you for now.

"That wound looks nasty. If I could trust you to not try anything more with me today, I could patch that up enough for you to be alright till you get proper attention. While I'm doing that, I'd like to ask you a few questions. We work things out in a satisfactory fashion, and I'll vouch for you once my buddies finish up by the river.

"Can I count on you not trying anything more?"

The man nods furiously a few times. He breathes heavily, sucking in the cold November air as he continues to bleed.

Jake's jaw finally comes unclamped. The man pushes his SMG away and brings his right hand up. He indicates a bulging pouch on his thigh. "May I?" he croaks. He either doesn't remember that his chameleon suit is active or he's being coy. He seems to think of this after a moment. "... it's a medkit," he rasps.

Stogie's vision is good but it's not good enough to say whether the bulge - which is very vague due to the chameleon suit - really is a medkit or another weapon. Stogie can hear the man's heart racing - or is that his own heart? - but perhaps that's natural, given the adrenaline that a body releases when it suffers significant damage.

The buckshot tears into the nearby trees with a deafening sound. Ellesar's catlike reflexes allow him to dodge this volley with ease, but he can't allow the troll to continue. His heart thuds in his chest as the familiar feeling of fight or flight attempts to take over. He grips his rifle lightly and prepares for a risky move.

"No thanks," Stogie replies. "I have my own. Any move by you to reach into a pocket will be taken as a try at getting a weapon. Now, if you'll just turn your back on the SMG, and toss away that neat little glove, too, I'll come over and dress that wound so it stays clean and doesn't bleed any more all over that fancy suit of yours."

Stogie moves over to the SMG and beside Jake, and, holding his shotgun steady on the man, waits for him to comply. He calms his friend through his mind, Good boy. Brave Jake! I'll take care of you soon and make the hurt go away.

The troll continues to charge up the hill. He racks a new round into his shotgun and sends another swarm of pellets in Ellesar's direction. He runs forward, pumping the shotgun again, and fires another blast to encourage Ellesar to stay down until the troll can introduce himself up close and personal. He's closing in quickly. 20 meters out... now 15... the pounding of his heavy feet in synch with the echo of the automatic fire filling the river valley. What's it going to take to bring this lumbering brute down? Ellesar's rifle may or may not be up to the task.

*****

On the east side of the valley, the downed man nods to Stogie. He lifts up his left hand then reaches over with his right to undo the velco at the wrist. He peels the shock glove off, discarding it into the bushes far to his left. The ruthenium polymer coating on the glove stays active and the glove immediately disappears into the forest. Finding it again would take ages. You'd be more likely to step on it accidentally first, at which point the glove would discharge itself into your foot.

The man deactivates the chameleon coating on his armor suit. What was once just a very loose outline of a person suddenly solidifies into a human male dressed all in black. The suit is futuristic-looking, almost like something you would see on a superhero in the trids. The suit goes over his head and wraps around his face, although Stogie can see some patches of checkbone below the man's goggles, plus his jawline. His skin has an unnatural orange tone to it, suggesting that this man might have an unhealthy addiction to tanning salons when he's not off trying to shoot strangers. He rolls over to his left, per Stogie's instructions, so that his back faces the SMG.

Jake's movement returns slowly, starting with his tail - which wags to Stogie's praise - and his eyes darting around. Stogie can also hear what Jake hears: the low frequency soundwaves of the gun battle that continues to rage elsewhere.

Both Stogie and Jake watch where the glove falls, if not to find it but at least to know which set of bushes to avoid when walking away.

Stogie places his shotgun down beside Jake and the SMG and instructs the dog, "Guard!" as he points to the weapons. Then he approaches the downed man from behind, taking out his medkit. "Sounds like the party is still carrying on down the valley. While I'm doing this, I'd like a couple of answers."

Stogie kneels behind the man and gingerly moves the damaged clothing away from the wound. "Looks like the shot went right through. Easy to patch this up.

"So, what were you hired to do out here?" Stogie starts cleaning the wound and bandaging it. Years of caring for various ailing animals come through, and despite the fact this man just tried to kill him, Stogie's attention to the wound is gentle and efficient. No healing going on here, just maintenance, so the task is simple.

Stogie moves behind the man and notices that he has a monofilament sword in a sheath on his back. The man doesn't reach for it, either unable or unwilling to do so. He seems to think that it's strange that Stogie would do this. It doesn't seem like standard procedure where he's from.

"We got hired to find some witches," he says between groans as Stogie pulls the tattered armor away from the wound. "The Johnson said they were toxic, killing civilians in an ecoterror campaign."

He winces as Stogie pours iodine over the wound. Normally this would stain his skin orange but it's already such a strange orange color - and it's covered in blood - that the effect is much less noticeable.

"The Johnson's a real piece of work. Ex-mil. Said he's been sending bounty hunters out for weeks but none ever came back. Said he was forming his own squad to do it himself." He throws his head to the side. At first Stogie thinks he's trying to headbutt him but then realizes the man is indicating the skirmish taking place down in the river.

"I'm just a freelancer from the city. Johnson said that the local talent pool wasn't deep enough." Stogie realizes he mean's Salish-Shidhe, not Seattle.

"So who are you and why are we shooting at each other?" he asks as his strength depletes. Stogie pushes compresses against the entry- and exit-points of the wound and begins to wrap the shoulder in antibacterial bandages.

Stogie finishes the bandaging. "I'm part of one of those teams that didn't come back. We learned the truth isn't as clear-cut as Mr. Johnson would have you believe. The so-called witches may have a strict view of what should and should not be done in the woods around here, but from what we learned, they have gone out of their way to do less injury and more property destruction. If we're gonna hunt someone, we kinda want to know the truth about them, first. Crazy, I know.

"The ones you were brought here to hunt are serious drek. Me, I'm glad we managed to talk our way out of fighting them, otherwise we would probably be charred husks like the team before us. I don't hold out much hope for your crew in the valley if the women let loose with all they have.

"Now, I'm not all that averse to screwing with corporate bottom line, and so I'm not all that averse to what the women have been doing here. I suspect the Johnson has a personal stake in this, though, either personal profit or relation to one of the few who did get hurt. My team and I have been trying to figure out what really is going on here, and in the meantime dealing with some of the other teams Johnson has sent... from some raw rookies we spanked and sent on their way to more serious talent... like you guys. We're shooting at each other because Johnson wants us to be shooting at each other. No other reason.

"I'm pretty good at sensing things that don't want to be found. That's how I marked for my friends all the hidden crew of yours down in the valley. They're now targets. The magician over there, I smelled his insect repellant, and my dog and I followed the odour trail. I did to him what you wanted to do to me.

"I have to admit, you're pretty good. If it wasn't for my dog, you might have had me. I'm impressed.

"Seeing as how your talents and mine are kinda complementary, I don't see why sometime in the future we couldn't work on the same side. Call it a day today between us and see what comes down the road. When the women have done mopping up downhill, I can vouch for you and keep them from sending their forest friends after you. Some of those things eat more than your body."

The man listens as Stogie finishes working.

"Hey, chummer, I don't have any politics. I just follow the money, same as the other guys out here with me. We're just mercs who are probably here because someone's willing to pay to have the property destruction stop. If these witches keep doing what they're doing, then someone's going to keep sending mercs until they're not an issue anymore. That's just a return on investment equation, omae. Finance 101. You throw in with these ladies, you got an exit strategy? Or are you in it for the long haul too? Ecoterrorism is a long-play, man. This conflict either ends with humanity back in the Stone Age or a sniper shot from a klick out. No offense, but smart money's on the latter."

Stogie packs up his medkit. "I don't agree with the Stone Age argument, but it's hard to deny the possibility of the sniper option. I don't know if I'm in with the women for the long haul, but for now, as long as I'm partaking in their hospitality, I'll shoot back at those who shoot at them. I definitely want to be on their good side while I'm on their turf.

"Looks like you're alright for now. Bleeding's stopped and the wound looks clean. As I say, some medical attention back home is in order. Be so kind as to put your arms around this tree over here and I'll use the rest of this bandage to hold you here while I go see why the ladies are still toying with your associates. It'll make my argument that you're no longer a threat to the three of them all that much stronger."

Stogie starts unrolling the bandage cloth, and steps back to near the shotgun to see what the man does next.

The man stares at Stogie. "You'll 'shoot back at those who shoot at them'?" the man asks incredulously. "You ambushed us! Shot one of our mages in the back!" He throws his chin in the direction of the dead mage.

This is true. Stogie shot the mage three times until he was not living anymore.

"We don't want to kill them, man, we want to bring them back with us! Alive! Ain't no one doing any killing out here but you!"

He's getting snippy. He refuses to put his arms around the tree. In his defense, the massive gunshot wound to his shoulder must hurt like an S.O.B., and extending his arms away from his body would be doubly painful and risk reopening the wound. It's cold out, his armor suit doesn't look like it's insulated, and he's already at a risk for hypothermia due to blood loss.

"You already murdered Karl, man. I don't know what game you're playing with the first aid but I don't want you to tie me up out here just so I can freeze to death or be a snack for your forest friends. Frag that noise. You gonna kill me, you gonna have to look me in the face when you do it."

He stares at Stogie defiantly. Not resisting, not fighting, but shivering. It's unclear if he's cold or afraid or both. Stogie can see his cartoid artery racing wildly.

"If I'd wanted to kill you, I'd have done it when I had you in my sights with a dog hanging off your gun arm. As far as the mage goes, there are fewer options with one of them, and they are never alone."

Stogie reaches down and picks up the SMG and shotgun. The SMG he slings over a shoulder and he takes hold of the shotgun. "But coming to take them alive? Not with a 15,000 nuyen bounty Gunny put on each of them has anybody else come for anything but their heads.

"At the same time, you're right about the never-ending stream of bounty hunters. So let's head back down the hill and see if we can find a way to get Gunny to lay off the hunt. You get back to your team, we all get a chance to talk and maybe more than you gets to go home today.

"Work for you?" Stogie indicates with his head for the man to lead.

The man gives Stogie a look like he's a little dense. He looks around furtively then turns back with a conspiratorial tone.

"Gunny doesn't care what happens to them; he just wants them to stop the destruction. But toxic mages, man. The Draco Foundation has a standing bounty on those if you deliver them alive. It says so right in Dunklezahn's Will! A million nuyen! And we've got three of them out here."

He looks like he wants to hold up three fingers but his shoulder wound and bandaging job makes any arm movement painful. He flinches, then checks around again to see if anyone is listening, however unlikely that might be during a gun battle. Stogie glances over and sees a drone flying above the river, ripping up the forest to the north of him with machine gun fire.

"Do the math, man. There are seven of us if you take Karl's share. That's a fat payday if we only bring one back, but if we swing all three? That's retirement money!"

He steps forward again, using his stage whisper.

"It's going to be harder without Karl, but if you know the women and they trust you then that could swing things back our direction. My job was to sneak up with the mage masks. Drop the hood on them, no more mojo! A little shock glove action and then a long walk home. Take three toxic mages out of the picture and you can even feel better about yourself at night while you're counting your fat stacks of nuyen. How often does that happen, man?"

Stogie does his best to show in his expression the pity he feels for this guy. "Chummer. You've been had. I've checked these women's auras six ways from Sunday, and they're not Toxics. You can see how careful I am, nah, afraid, of mages. I wouldn't hang with any that are freaks like Toxics. These three? They're just a bunch of women in the forest who don't like what they think somebody wants to do to their little patch of paradise. A bunch of women who can sling fireballs and command spirits.

"I believe Gunny will pay for whatever revenge he's looking for, but ain't no way the Draco Foundation will pay one nuyen for these women. If that's the real reason you and your crew are here, then for fuck's sake let's get down there and stop the fight before more people die. You're throwing away your lives for nothing."

Stogie waits to see what the man does. The shotgun is ready. Three million nuyen, or even the fantasy of it, is a powerful motivator for rash action. The sound of the drone's gunfire begins to worry him. Why is the conflict still going on? What the hell are the women waiting for?

The man listens to Stogie's defense of the Sisters, giving him a look somewhere along the lines of "you would say that." It doesn't appear that Stogie is a credible witness to the Sisters' toxicity, or lack thereof. The man scrunches his face but, disarmed and injured, isn't in a position to make a move. He turns in the direction that Stogie indicates, checking over his shoulder periodically to see if Stogie is about to shoot him in the back or not, like he did to Karl.

Stogie marks the location of Karl's body, and follows the other man at a distance close enough to make evasion difficult but not so close he could turn and fight Stogie for the gun. Jake follows stiffly a bit farther back and to the left.

Periodically, Stogie checks the com link to see if he is back in range to talk to Ellesar.

As they leave the area, Jake sniffs out the shock glove that hurt him so. He lifts a stiff leg and urinates on the glove. Then he rushes to catch up to the two humans.

Jake finds the glove after a moment, which smells lightly of ozone. Lifting his leg, he expresses his displeasure by emitting a stream of urine on the glove. The stream quickly separates into individual droplets, but one final contraction of the bladder squeezes it into a continuous stream for a brief moment. A small electrical current travels up the stream, zapping Jake in his nether regions, causing him to yip. Stogie feels a strange tingly sensation via his attunement and rolls his eyes. Jake is alarmed but has suffered no harm. (Some people actually pay for that tickling feeling.) The glove sputters for a bit and then shorts out, sending up a little wiff of doggy steam into the dry autumn air.

Ellesar wracks his brain to figure a way to deal with this locomotive rushing at him. How do you reason with this kind of behaviour?

He ducks behind a tree and then drops the rifle, fumbling for his Ruger. Shakily he draws it. A thought comes to him. He backs away from the tree and shouts, full voice, "Drop the net now!"

If the troll keeps coming around the tree, Ellesar will have to shoot.

Where the hell is Stogie? And the Sisters?? Do I have to deal with this lot all by myself?

Ellesar times his move precisely. He pivots around the tree, backpedaling as he shouts. The troll had a 50/50 guess as to which side of the tree Ellesar would emerge on. Given the fact that his shotgun is not in-line with his target it seems clear that the troll guessed wrong.

Ellesar raises the heavy pistol, hoping that it has enough stopping power to bring the troll to a halt but not so much stopping power that it actually kills him. He probably thinks he's just doing his job. No need to kill him just for that, he thinks to himself as he tries to channel the muscle memories from his training so many years ago. It's been ages since he used a pistol, as their range is generally too limited to be of much use in the forest.

The Ruger bounces three times in his hand before Ellesar can even blink with surprise. "Surprise" might also accurately describe the look on the troll's face as three heavy rounds slam into his stomach and promptly explode. The troll immediately stops running and looks down at his belly. The rounds have completely obliterated not only his lined coat but also the natural dermal armors reinforcing his skin. The troll touches his abdomen and his hand comes back slick and coated in red. Ellesar's eyes go wide. He can see tattered bits surrounding the wound but he's not quite sure if they are armor, skin, or something internal. The troll SCREAMS at the shock of the wound but, to his credit, does not topple to the ground like a reasonable person might.

Ellesar is a little taken aback by the damage he just did. But it isn't over yet. He demands, "Drop your weapon or I shoot you some more."

If the troll surrenders, this may yet end without any killing on my part. But if he doesn't...

The troll's eyes are wild with adrenaline and endorphins. He bellows in anger, oblivious to Ellesar's threat. The troll puts his blood-soaked finger on the trigger and raises his shotgun.

Heart pounding and head racing, Ellesar reacts more from self preservation than anything. His hands seem to work on their own to squeeze off the first shot. A fresh wave of ancient memories washes over him as he lets off the second round.

The huge handgun bucks in Ellesar's hand again, although the action is smooth for such a large gun. The additional weight under the barrel is comforting and helps keep the shots from arcing off into the forest. Ellesar has no trouble leveling the pistol for another burst, which he delivers accurately. The troll, already wounded and unable to dodge effectively, takes the second burst right in the chest. A bloody mist puffs up as the troll grimaces and falls over backward down the hillside. Gravity pulls him five meters down the slope before he comes to a stop against some gnarled roots of a nearby evergreen tree.

Ellesar can see blood pulsing out of the troll's chest with every heartbeat. It means that his heart is still pumping and that he's alive for now but won't be for long. Ellesar has made a bloody mess of the man's sternum; a gruesome wound to accompany the already grim gut wound he received moments earlier.

Stogie's commlink notifies him that a link, tenuous though it may be, now exists between his commlink and Ellesar's.

<<Stogie@Ellesar:You OK, E...kkkhhht... I'm returning with a prison..kkhht>>

Ellesar runs over to the man, Ruger leveled at his still frame. He carefullly kicks the large shotgun away from the troll and gives him a brief once-over to check for any obvious weapons that could prove dangerous.

"Why don't you people ever listen?" The elf barks, more out of frustration than anger. "Can you hear me? I can help you but I need your word that you won't try anything fatally stupid." He moves closer to the troll, attempting to get a good look at the chest wounds. Stogie will have to wait until I can deal with this lug.

Judging by the amount of blood pumping out of this guy's chest with every heartbeat, it is obvious that he is no longer a threat. Rushing forward, Ellesar pats the troll down for weapons and finds a veritable mobile Stuffer Shack:

-3 Thermal Smoke Grenades
-3 Flash-Paks
-4 Plasteel Restraints
-2 Containment Manacles
-Erika Elite Commlink
-Extendable Baton
-Stun Baton
-2 Survival Knives
-2 Shock Gloves
-Ruger 100 with a bipod and several magazines of ammo

Evidently the troll's motto was "always be prepared", although his current condition suggests that he still wasn't prepared enough. But there's kit here for lethal takedowns as well as non-lethal takedowns, plus restraints to take someone alive.

In the process of patting the guy down, Ellesar feels the troll's pulse. It's shallow and rapid, like a hummingbird fluttering it's wings. It's obvious that it's nowhere near strong enough to pump blood to all of his extremities or even keep him alive. His skin is growing pale and cool to the touch. He won't be with you much longer.

Stogie presses forward with his prisoner, moving west down the hillside while listening to the sounds of the fight echo up and down the valley. Why is the conflict still going on? What the hell are the women waiting for? he thinks to himself. He finds a break in the trees ahead where he might be able to see what is happening. Jake helps to 'herd' the prisoner and ensure that he never gets within arm's reach of Stogie. The odds of the injured man making a ninja move for Stogie's shotgun seem slim - especially with that gunshot to the shoulder - but better safe than sorry.

Even before they gets to the clearing, Stogie and Jake both hear far more gunfire than they expected, and from unexpected angles. Moving to the gap in the trees, Stogie eventually sees why. The mercs are leaning on their technological superiority to balance the fight, mainly through the generous use of drones. Stogie sees at least two roto-drones hovering high overhead, cutting up the forest with short bursts of fire. Closer to the river, there are two ground drones doing much the same, establishing a perimeter and pressing uphill toward various spirits and astral forces which emerge to fight them.

Why aren't the Sisters wiping these guys out? Stogie thinks, wondering how the Sisters' home field advantage and obvious magical superiority could be kept at bay by a handful of radio-controlled guns. He switches to the astral to get the other side of the story. What he sees there surprises him. The Sisters are indeed conjuring a steady stream of spirits and shooting spells at regular intervals, but none of them are very powerful. What Stogie sees is very unlike the power he witnessed at the Sisters' campsite, where the spirits were monstrosities and even the smallest spells sent a spark of power rippling through the air. Here, away from their aspected domain, the Sisters have been rendered... average. Their spirits are small enough to be overwhelmed by automatic weapons fire, ably directed by Gunny standing in the middle of the river. Hester and Selene don't appear to have any magic that can affect the drones directly. Ellie is able to send bolts of fire from one side of the valley to the other, but is having a difficult time hitting the small and nimble drones that simply bob out of the way. Occasionally she sends the same down toward Gunny, but the men in the river take cover underwater and emerge unfazed from the flames.

The fight is a race for time between who will give out first: the ammo reserves of the drones or the ability of the Sisters to absorb drain. Stogie sees Hester and Selene fire weak manabolts at the men in the river. The mana of the spells is tinged with frustration and anger. The black color of the spells turns the auras of the men in the river into muddied swirls of brown and red. Stogie can see them starting to bleed from their noses and their ears as the spells eat away at them from the inside out. Eventually the man operating the drones slumps over, bleeding into the river. Gunny's right-hand man topples over as well. Gunny picks him out of the water so that he won't drown. Gunny backpedals toward the shoreline while firing his weapon. The drones are now on autopilot; their firing patterns are less sophisticated than before and they begin to be overwhelmed by the spirits that accost them. The tide is turning.