Scene Start:
9:51 AM, Spooky Forest.
The air was damp, a sort of sentient and ever-present fog... thin and vaporous yet still just as much a victim of gravity as any being that ever took step or wing. The hale and evenly-muscled frame of such a man as found himself striding across that same-self land passed through the low fog bank, vapors clinging to his white-garbed form as if jealous will o' the wisps. Sturdy white boots trod across moistened soil that might have otherwise appeared rich were it not so sickly, sticking to his footwear like so much bilious refuse.
With a gloved hand reaching up, he tucked one lanky tress behind an ear to prevent the rosy-colored strands from sticking to his cheek in the chilled, grey air. Task achieved absently, that hand lowered to rest itself on the hilt of a nondescript blade in a white sheath, resting comfortably as its owner kept inquisitive gaze trained ahead - not upon the dank and yawning yards between himself and the entrance of his destination, but rather upon a source of strong light refracted by the mists itself. Jerrishan's portable Terminal floated at his fingertips as he cut through the mire-like atmosphere, Area Mapping allowing him to keep a wide berth from the village not far off... there was no need to get tangled up with such a mess as that, if hearsay was correct.
Drawing ever nearer, it would almost be too soon since accepting the requested job that the Intelligence Division Head found himself glancing up away from his floating magical screen and into the grinning maw of odious trees not unlike a perilous invitation. Regarding the strange forest lightly, the man in his prime gave a slow roll of his wide shoulders, letting his eyes take in the scenery and commit it to that damnably photographic memory he possessed. He opened his mouth then, eyes flicking down to the smaller screen's readout from Area Mapping.
"Looks like this is the place. The Vulcans shouldn't be too far in, given lack of appropriate prey."
His voice came at a measured drawl, with a kind of natural warmth to those clipped and studious tones. As his lips closed once more, his body seemed to undulate slightly as he shifted stance from ease of travel to preparedness. His mind's many-faceted function apparatuses set to work analyzing sensory input and the data from his magical computer, looking through the database on Vulcan physiology and habits.
9:51 AM, Spooky Forest.
The air was damp, a sort of sentient and ever-present fog... thin and vaporous yet still just as much a victim of gravity as any being that ever took step or wing. The hale and evenly-muscled frame of such a man as found himself striding across that same-self land passed through the low fog bank, vapors clinging to his white-garbed form as if jealous will o' the wisps. Sturdy white boots trod across moistened soil that might have otherwise appeared rich were it not so sickly, sticking to his footwear like so much bilious refuse.
With a gloved hand reaching up, he tucked one lanky tress behind an ear to prevent the rosy-colored strands from sticking to his cheek in the chilled, grey air. Task achieved absently, that hand lowered to rest itself on the hilt of a nondescript blade in a white sheath, resting comfortably as its owner kept inquisitive gaze trained ahead - not upon the dank and yawning yards between himself and the entrance of his destination, but rather upon a source of strong light refracted by the mists itself. Jerrishan's portable Terminal floated at his fingertips as he cut through the mire-like atmosphere, Area Mapping allowing him to keep a wide berth from the village not far off... there was no need to get tangled up with such a mess as that, if hearsay was correct.
Drawing ever nearer, it would almost be too soon since accepting the requested job that the Intelligence Division Head found himself glancing up away from his floating magical screen and into the grinning maw of odious trees not unlike a perilous invitation. Regarding the strange forest lightly, the man in his prime gave a slow roll of his wide shoulders, letting his eyes take in the scenery and commit it to that damnably photographic memory he possessed. He opened his mouth then, eyes flicking down to the smaller screen's readout from Area Mapping.
"Looks like this is the place. The Vulcans shouldn't be too far in, given lack of appropriate prey."
His voice came at a measured drawl, with a kind of natural warmth to those clipped and studious tones. As his lips closed once more, his body seemed to undulate slightly as he shifted stance from ease of travel to preparedness. His mind's many-faceted function apparatuses set to work analyzing sensory input and the data from his magical computer, looking through the database on Vulcan physiology and habits.