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Finally, Elara’s voice had broken the eerie silence that arose from Ingrid’s discovery. Easing up a bit, she moved her gaze towards her voice, “Very.” She added, her voice carrying obvious frustrations. Finished with her investigation she pivoted fully towards Elara,“Still, ma chérie, I’m glad you could make it.” Her voice rising into warming tones as she leaned in for two friendly pecks across Elara’s cheeks. Seeing as she had brought food, she had to decline, however, “I appreciate the thought, but I’m not very hungry. Hold onto it, will you?”
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Returning to more serious matters, she folded her arms, and meandered back towards Diana. She had spent a great deal of time on this mission and had little to show for it, in fact, most of her clues had been directly attached to the massacre of deers in the area, “Sadly, it's far from the first. I’ve found a great deal of harts, hinds, and fawns killed like this… it’s . One of those arrows should do the trick–straight through the heart no less.” It was the method that taunted Ingrid to no end, she found it so churlish, so degrading.
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Opening Diana’s door, she finally decided to drop her worrying conclusion, “Someone else is after the hind, it seems, and to give undue charity, they seem to lack the sense to understand what it is they’re actually after. This hunter is more than content to slay every deer until they’ve gotten the right one.” While not entirely charitable, Ingrid simply didn’t want to imagine malice where she could apply incompetence; even if said incompetence was applied entirely maliciously.
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Faced with the question of whether or not she was to drive, she smiled, “Of course. I’d hardly expect us to trod through this terrible, muddy landscape.” She was clearly as far away from her element as she possibly could. In the corner of her eye, she caught a brief glimpse of a sparkle. Wasting no more time, she slid behind the wheel. More definitive than banter about how awful the British lowlands were, she spun the car around so that the passenger door was no more than a step from Elara. Upon opening the door, Elara would be greeted by a vintage 35mm camera, “Be Careful, it’s a rental.”

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Mission Details

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Suddenly, Ingrid had been enraptured into a retelling of her own world rife with living folklore and mythology. It didn’t always have to be fighting tooth and nail with goblins, androids, and some other creature Ingrid had no desire to retain memory of. In a night of tossing and turning, she had awoken in a cold sweat that it was possible for her to come across some of the wondrous creatures that had once captured her imagination as a girl could be walking around in Earth-Chan’s cursed lands. It was a thought that she put aside, until an opportunity would present itself.
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Chasing bulletins had brought Ingrid to one of her most loathed places: The English countryside. Shimmering golden antlers, unrivaled speed, and ruined flower beds. As well as the fury of messages from some Hunter-classed player, who has suffered from lack of capability. Complaints that it outpaced the bolts of his magical crossbow piqued Ingrid's interest, bringing herself back to a charming little book concerning the labors of Heracles she had as a child. Her book offered a sanitized telling for sure, yet its depiction of Heracles' third labor remained one of her preferred tellings; the shining horns of the hind, and the mysterious beauty in their abstract depiction of Artemis as a stalking shadow.
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Searching for a regular deer was a tall ask from Ingrid. Containing such a natural disdain for hunting; she didn't hold even the slightest care for supplemental skills like tracking.This hind, renowned for its mythical speed and elusiveness made for an insurmountable mission. She still took it upon herself to pursue this creature, at the very least, she knew she wouldn’t have to be alone. Parked within an agreed upon patch of English ground, Ingird awaited the appearance of her dearest of roommates. Although she would never admit it, she felt the stinging possibility that this day could end in the most humiliating of failures.
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“We are only to take a picture. If we harm so much as a hair on her, we will face the wrath of Artemis, or whatever horror Earth-chan has cooked up in her place.” She had established well in advanced, a few times, to ensure her message was gotten across. Examining a trail of blood near her parking spot, she followed, stumbling onto a far less mystical doe, one with several large arrows through her heart. Ingrid had failed to account for having to compete with the careful eye of fully realized deerslayer.

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From her purse, she retrieved a handkerchief, and promptly offered it to Elara. The mere moments she had to wait for her core to come off of cooldown were painful. She wondered just how they had been able to accumulate so much ammunition, and cursed that had yet to cease. Folding her arms in frustration, she fought the urge to pace in her tight space. Any moment now. Their space was starting to run out; unable to shoot directly into the alleyway, they crept their focus on the edge of the buildings. Ingrid was melting away, focusing less and less on her own embedding demise, and sticking her eyes to the ticking number on her interface. Abruptly in a tone of jubilation more suited to being far more away, “Get ready, you're going to have a short window, and I know you’re quick enough--you better be.”
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Running directly out into the smoke of torn streets. Hopping and zipping around, she used her natural speed to try her best to avoid certain death. Swinging her arm around, she ran down the way they had arrived, backtracking. For a moment, she was drawing their fire, which drew closer. Putting her arm directly ahead of her, a stream of light enveloped her. Her stride shifted to the legwork of pedal manipulation. Surrounded by a sleek, angular supercar, she twisted her arms, drifting to completely reorient her car back towards the alley.
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She had made one slight modification to good ole Diana, her driver’s door was on the right side for once. Although these unkempt Russian roads were built for left side steering, she had to curb the rules of the road to make good on her promise. Missing the convenience of her rainbow road, she had to zip and twist around to avoid the craters and potholes formed by the barrage. Passing by the alley opening, she opened the upward facing passenger door, “The shots are coming from the cannery, get in!” She had started shouting some way away from her pick up zone, hoping to convey that important piece of information. She noticed a ramp that if approached with enough speed, could possibly send them through the window on the upper level of the cannery. As soon as Elara got in, that’s exactly what she was planning on doing. The fact that the seatbelts glowed a different color this time around, was suggestion enough that she had this plan up her sleeve.

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Leaning back in her seat, and attempting to stretch within the confines of an elegant example of a sports car, Ingrid nodded, “Yes, getting out of here would do us both some good.“ Feeling the bothersome sting of pins and needles in her thighs, she was quite quick on the draw of concurrence. Flourishing her wrist, the very same vibrant cacophony of light that summoned the Venus Mk. I took her away from whence she came–nowhere. Gently drifting into a standing position, Ingrid tried her best to remember her old ballet stretches', nearly falling in the process.
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This particular city seemed just as good as any to earn the title of “Arkhangelsk”. She could imagine it quite vividly, what it must have been before Eursia was reduced to a shattered mess. Looking on at the vacant void that replaced the sea, she attempted to eye the industrial district. Her seafaring roots could never completely be swallowed up by the urban Bohemian she slowly morphed into, “These sorts of old-fashioned canneries are usually near the water… or where the water used to be.” Realizing this meant that the cannery was likely facing a steep drop to nothingness, she changed the subject “Not in the lovely beachside way, the sort of drab dockside way. Quite uncharming.”
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Wasting no time, she was on her way, heading down the cracked streets of Arkhangelsk. Turning back, she gestured for Elara to join her, “We’ll go nowhere but straight into trouble if we split up; I can hardly stand the smell of this place.” Although she spoke with her usual haughty tone, there was a clawing stench of burning electrical components that bothered her.
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Fog waffed out the shattered windows, howling in pure horror. Ingrid was more than happy to click along the streets. The two traveled with a palpable lack of activity. It was all quiet, aside from the screaming windows. Turning a corner, however, one that was leading the two down to the long coastal portion of the seaside city, someone stood in the road. It was the sort of mechanical construct that had been implied. They looked human, if completely pallid; skin the pure of paper and hair of the very dame hue. From afar their eyes looked dark, if they got closer, they would see that their irises were entirely black, while their pupils glowed a faint yellow.
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It raised its arm, and let loose a thunderous blast of ordinance aimed directly between the two. Ingrid ran towards it, running upwards at a 90 degree angle. Her rainbow road would shatter on impact, throwing her to the ground, mostly unscathed.
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Dismissed Core. Used Passive.

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Mission Details

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Ingrid was certainly dressed for the occasion, and her newfound location, living her best, when in Palmyra era. Despite having lost her beloved faux-fox ushanka in an altercation deep in a frozen cave, she had gotten her hands on another, though likel illicit methods. For once, she wore her hair up, believing that it may be able to keep her hat wedged into place. Favoring her Venus Mk. 1, she took the road, cruising at an acceptable pace for some hours in search of Archangel.

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Piercing cold and blinding fog defined the afternoon. Bleeding into the night, both only worsened. Deep into the mists, conditions were starting to become unbearable. Many near misses against downed power lines, giant chords and all manner of direlects(both fantastical and mundane. Even the foglights couldn’t cut through, but Ingrid remained unperturbed. She had a few tricks up her faux fox lined sleeves. Mainly, she had driven for a few hours with her head poking out the window, watching the lines on the abandoned highway.

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Cursing that she had no compass, she was left with the creeping sensation that they may have set off in the wrong direction entirely. Screeching to halt, Ingrid abruptly left the car. Particularly, some of Misty Wastes’ oppressive fogs leaked into the cab through the briefly opened door. Tossing a bent, rusted sign saying Arkhangelsk into the lap of her passenger. Shutting the door behind her, Rigorously scrubbing dense condensation off of her glasses, “I couldn’t read it out there. Did we make it afterall?” She explained, having not yet realized that they had reached their target.
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A break in the fog allowed their destination to at least be partially seen. They were on the outskirts of a town sitting on the very edge of the floating continent. Of the few visible landmarks, one stuck out to Ingrid the most; the old Orthodox church, its spires constricted by large electrical wiring, cracking under their immense weight. A church, however, was not their goal. Somewhere in Arkhangelsk was an abandoned fish cannery, that was supposedly the last known location of their target, the ‘golem’.

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Hearing that she had Gleeford’s support was bittersweet. He was a force to be reckoned with, but the calamity he wrought went both ways. Staring down a digitized bomb as well as the grasping hands of a particularly objectionable monstrosity, Ingrid was quick to react. The colors of the rainbow converged from her palm onto a single point to form a sporty motorcycle in the middle of a dirty, dank, decrepit cave. Sliding to avoid the bombastic blast of a small prop bomb, she mounted her motorcycle while it was sufficiently distracted.
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Quickly shifting the motorcycle into the fifth gear, she was off. While Gleeford and Yazid were figuring out what to do about the gift, Ingrid was preparing the ‘run’ of the classic ‘rip and run’. She couldn’t carry both of her allies, but one had a little more pep to his step. Swinging by the two, she performed a classic drive-by akido maneuver, attempting to force Gleeford and the present into the passenger seat (as in, the back portion of the seat itself), “Keep moving. I’ll cover your escape. We shall rendezvous at the tree.” She issued her command, driving upwards to settle the rainbow road over Yazid's head, providing them with a thin layer of protection. Following hot on her heels was one rampaging snowman, who still held a preference for the French-fried Danish.
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Hitting the slightest of footholds, she kept her ride elevated at the most stressful of altitudes. Forced to slow down, there were terrifying moments where the Abominable Snowman’s teeth were the only deceptively distant objects visible within the side mirrors. It was less of an issue when the tight corridors provided not nearly enough space, and her mirrors were left scraped along the cave walls.
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Out into the wilds, she had to buy Yazid enough time to get out of there. Veering to the left, she sped off towards dead trees that remained rooted. Thrashing through right behind them, the two on the motorcycle would suffer greatly from the splintering trees bursting around them. Zig-zagging, she tried to get this monstrosity as far away as she could.
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Coming into a clearing, she concocted a plan to lose it once and for all. An old trick. Drifting into the snow she kicked up a flurry, obscuring her and Gleeford. A momentary distraction, but enough. Sharply drifting she confoundingly darted back toward the Snowman, keeping low, she shot the two within inches of the festive, claymaytion's monster's grasp. Taking her eyes off the perilous path before them, she offered Gleeford a single gesture: her gloved finger pressed against her lip.
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With the wannabe Yeti still discombobulated by the flurry, Ingrid used her narrow window to activate Rogue Racer, dropping into stealth. Thunderous footsteps roared behind the two and soon faded. There was finally calm behind the handlebars. Looping around, with bated breath she passed by the snowman thrashing and smashing its way down past the clearing into a rather thicket of dead trees. As a precaution, she had driven in complete silence, offering a stiff, “Fermer le bouche.” At so much as a peep from Gleeford.
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They had made it back, eventually. Retrieving a flask from her coat, she took a long, hardy swig. Briefly, she considered just slotting it back into her coat, but sitting on a motorcycle with a 'friend' after just nearly being eaten by a reference to film she never saw, had changed her perspective. Instead she passed the lipstick stained flask over to Gleeford. Confident he had drank from sketchier flasks, she was sure it wouldn't have been much of an issue. This time he would have been graced by a Parasian brandy, a sort that could no longer be called Cognac for Cognac was a mere memory. Still might not have been to his tastes, but it was, at least, stronger.
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Dismounting her motorcycle, she made the last few steps towards the tree. She wasn’t able to make it far, all that thrilling motorcycling had left her in a rough spot. Falling to her knees, she clenched her open side.
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The present was returned… if Gleeford hadn’t dropped it during all of that.

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"Nasty thing has made such a terrible mess, do you think it lives like this?" Stood out as her main concern as they made their way through the former thicket, discussing their plans. Getaway driving suited her well enough, much better than the dangerous, if thrilling plans she had developed. She had picked up enough reading material to keep herself occupied long enough to comfortably say she waited if these matters didn’t pan out.
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Thrown off for a moment, she had to address Yazhid's comments hurled towards Earth-chan, "There is no tempting fate in the car--it can always b--." She instructed. It had been too late, for fate had dealt them a proper snake-eyes, "You must be joking..." She seethed.
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Recent developments had her descend into momentous vexation, as it proved this day wasn’t panning out well for her. The creature they were chasing was large, even not accounting for its increasing exaggeration in Ingrid’s mind; it had no business pushing its way into narrow ravines and cramped caves. It was hardly fair. Easing into a stop, she was forced to bounce between her frustrations and actual analysis. Helping her along was a mild bit of interrogation, “Not this one; I would have to switch to something narrower, but it'll take a minute.” She had driven under her fair share of unusual circumstances, yet nothing had been so claustrophobic. Maneuverability was meant to be her primary asset in this coming confrontation, and quickly it had been struck from her. Finding herself agreeing with Yahzid’s crude assessment, she realized she was left with a poor choice.
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Putting her devalued sports car into park, she executed a haughty flourish of her wrist. What reprieve the group had from snow had vanished into air even thinner than it arrived in. Holding down her faux-fur hat, Ingrid was able to save it from a sudden frigid blast of harrowing wind. Offering one small comfort, she turned to Gleeford, “You’re free to smoke now.” Now that they no longer had to worry about the Venus MK. 1.3’s prismatic upholstery.
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Getting a leg up, she began her way through the ravine, none too happy. Much of her newfound speed was as natural as Earth-Chan’s modifications could be. In order to keep up with supernatural magic cars, she had been able to develop reflexes sharp enough to actually handle said vehicles. But, outside of her car (or motorcycle) she didn’t have much she could contribute, her parasol was still broken, and thus even more unimpressive than it started.
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Core cooldown (0/1)

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