INTO THE WOODS ※ GAME EVENT

[wildestmods]

INTO THE WOODS

The faerie faire goes on into the evening, the faire filled with the sounds of revelry. For those who've spent the day there, the cool evening air is welcome respite from the bright sun that's shined all day. Those who still have some faerie gold might even want to invest in a cloak if they haven't gotten one yet, because it may get chillier as night falls.

As evening descends and various floating flowers start to glow to provide light, the spring faeries start to bring out night-time merchandise and amusements, like brightly-colored phosphorescent flower jewelry. Fireflies are charmed to blink in different colors and magical fireworks paint the sky in vibrant light. They're quieter than normal fireworks, but there are still satisfying snaps and hisses.

It seems like it'll be a pleasant night at the fair and those only just arriving in the evening will find a charming scene opening up before them.

But one thing that isn't noticed as evening begins to fall is the way the winter faeries suddenly slink away into the rising dark. Or at least it isn't noticed until it's too late. Some of the summer faeries start to react to it with alarm.

"Where did they go? The winter faeries are supposed to provide security, they signed an agreement. Go tell Ponto and get some faeries with warding magic to shore up the wards." Faeries start flying with purpose to speak to others that need to be put on security. "We can handle it ourselves but we need to get enough people out to the borders."

"Should we disperse the faire?"

"No, there's no sign of any threats and if we re-ward it, they'll be safer here than people scattering in the woods at night. Even if we had the bad luck to be attacked before the wards are re-done we can defend them with our magic - and we're contracted to."

Unfortunately that bad luck hits too soon. While the faeries scramble to re-do the defense wards, an unearthly fog rolls in. Terrible screeches start to rend the air, sounding similar to the screams of foxes. Warning bells ring from warning wards placed in certain areas of the woods.

"Nightrenders!" someone calls out and people in the crowd start screaming, gathering their loved ones closer. Horrifying beings start to pour into the faire and the hand stamps of all the people who bought tickets ahead of time start to glow. Faeries rally around those people, casting powerful defensive spells. Due to the panic, several stalls start to go up in flames due to knocked over cooking fires. Fortunately the stalls are small enough for people to escape them easily and spread far enough apart that they can be avoided, but smoke joins the fog in the air.

If a faerie sees one of the squad of otherworlders, and their lack of glowing hand stamp they're quick to offer a warning. "You have to run! The people who bought tickets ahead of time entered into a magical agreement of protection. The warding takes time to charge. We can do nothing for you, without slow-charge wards we're not powerful enough to protect you. The Nightrenders will devour your brain, or your soul."

Apparently that little disclaimer about not being fully protected that some of them read while coming in (for those that had arrived earlier in the day) was more important than it seemed.

The faeries always point the same way, still trying to help the people without tickets. "To the north! There's a place in a canyon with a large, glowing crystal. It looks like an abandoned market and dwellings. You'll be safe there, the magic of the Heartstone will protect you."

USEFUL LINKS

Setting Background/FAQ | Major NPCs


NIGHTRENDERS

The beings known as Nightrenders start amassing on the faire. Their movements are quick but clumsy, as if every one of their movements is made up of a hundred janky, smaller fits and starts, like they're made of clockwork. The faerie magic summer faeries use seems to do no more than stagger them back or temporarily knock them over, but at least makes it clear to the squad that they at least can be knocked over and slowed down. At the very least it seems to take them some time to get off the ground and back to their feet.

Attacks

They attack anyone they see in different ways. Some they wound with massive claws. Or they squeeze someone's torso and nearly suffocate them to give them a chance at possibly chomping into the heads of their victims to get at the brains. Most dangerously of all, they breathe in with a loud sucking noise, clawed hands guiding the magic that lets them drawn out someone's soul to devour it. It looks like a small delicate thing, sometimes in the form of a glittering star or a flower, as its drawn out of the victim's mouth.

This process can fortunately be interrupted if the Nightrender is attacked. As long as the soul hasn't been sucked into their mouths, it goes back into the victim.

Cursed Aura

But the whole thing is complicated by the magical aura caused by the Nightrenders. When they draw close, everyone around them is choked with fear, grief, and dread. Some succumb to visions of their worse memories playing out in their heads over and over. Some might be able to still stagger away in this state, trying to see through the visions, especially if someone helps them along, but others will find it nearly impossible to do anything other than curl on the ground. It is unknown why some don't have the flashbacks or can power through them more than others, though it's thought that those that repress their bad memories or negative emotions struggle more.

Anyone that helps someone who's having visions may get a glimpse of their memories - and empathically feel a flash of the pain, fear, rage, or grief they felt during the memory. If two people try to help each other move forward when both are having visions, they may transmit glimpses back and forth.

Weaknesses

The Nightrenders cannot be destroyed, only knocked down, or slowed down. However, those with "holy" weapons, spells, or powers, or those who have weapons, spells, or powers that can hurt "ethereal" beings or evil spirits will find they can cause them enough pain that sometimes they run away. Spells and abilities that create magical manifestations of good will and happiness, as well as spells of light, or purification can also harm them and drive them away.

THE SISTERS

The Nightrenders don't speak, but some have the misfortune of hearing two voices echo out of the fog. The come in stereo, only just slightly out of sync.

"Chosen Ones, you must be so confused. You've become lost in the forest, and the Dark Lord's nightmares already pursue you. Fortunately for you, our mistress desires your company. You'll adore obeying her will. Don't run, embrace a better destiny."

Two woman in white masks and straw hats, with cloaks made from the feathers of ravens, come out of the fog, body language almost identical. No eyes can be seen through the eyeholes of their masks, just darkness.

They start attacking, and when they beset their victims they stop speaking, refusing to talk or answer questions, instead filling the air with wild, mocking laughter. One wields twin katanas, the other a kusarigama with a painful claw at the end of the chain that closes down when it hits something.

Nets

While they're extremely willing to injure the squad they seem to be trying to capture them instead of killing (albeit capturing them after they're maimed), occasionally tossing out nets of glowing silver of moonlight. Being caught in the nets renders someone paralyzed and weak, a deep cold settling into the marrow of their bones. Some may even hear the shrieks of dying loved ones, whether they've actually died in reality or not. The Sisters apparently have the strength to carry even the largest of the squad in the air and will attempt to fly away when someone is ensnared.

The nets are difficult to destroy, but can be with great force of some kind. It has to be aimed at the part closest to the Sisters' hands, because the force required to break the nets would also injure those trapped inside them. The cold and paralysis fades when the victims are free, but some of the rescued may feel weak and need help staying on their feet. Unfortunately, even when they're broken, the nets of moonlight seem to be something they can recreate within several minutes.

Smoke Monsters

For some, they don't attack directly. Instead, one of the sisters pulls out a pipe and smoke monsters pour out of it. They try to drag their victims closer to the sisters so they can be caught in their nets. Fortunately, they can be destroyed with enough force.

While the Sisters seem impossible to injure, they can at least be caused pain with extreme enough attacks, something that makes them teleport away before risking any further injury.

PROMPTS

a) RENT
Uh oh, a Nightrender has you. Either it's squeezing you so hard you're suffocating and about to chomp into some juicy brains, or it's in the process of sucking your soul out through your mouth. In either case, you're likely broadcasting visions of your worst memories in small flashes to whoever is near. You're in desperate need of rescue and the summer faeries can't help - their magic is all but useless on the Nightrenders if it didn't have time to build by a covenant. Only others that fell into the Wilderlands like you did can save you.

(Feel free to provide multiple memory options ala a memshare, but keep in mind they'd only be flashes instead of a full memory!)

b) NABBED
The Sisters have got you, their smoke monsters are trying to drag you away, or you're still trying to fight them to avoid being caught. It'll be a lot easier if you have help - otherwise you're outnumbered and possibly outclassed. The only way to stop them is fight back hard enough that they feel you're not worth the effort and teleport off.

c) RESCUE
Perhaps you're not affected by the Nightrenders or are just good at powering through the haze of painful magic they're inflicting on the area. Either way, you're out to help the people around you. Perhaps you run into another member of the otherworlder squad that needs saving - or maybe they join you to protect a third otherworlder, or a denizen of the Wilderlands that also forewent a ticket and is therefore at risk. Unlike many of the people from other universes, many of the denizens of the Wilderlands are powerless and thought they were in for a day and night of safe fun.

There are also other hazards to rescue people from. Maybe a small child has been separated from their parents and is disoriented by smoke, in need of rescued from some flaming tents. Or maybe an elderly person has fallen and is at risk of being trampled. There are lots of reasons people might need help, due to fires, panicked horses, collapsing tents, and panicking crowds.

d) RUN
It's time to run! Perhaps, after some screaming and confusion - and teleportation - you finally grab a buddy and bolt through the woods. You better run fast because the Nightrenders and the Sisters may give up chase at some point but it may take time and moving through difficult terrain in the fog to lose them. Perhaps you and a partner have to help a third, injured otherworlder because they're having trouble walking.

Better head north like the faeries said. The faeries were right that this Heartstone to the north may be your only hope - and you'll have to reach it despite the fading evening light, skies overcast with dark clouds, and fog.

It may be easier navigating in the dark with a partner or two.

e) WILDCARD
Maybe you decide to do none of the above. Go nuts!

OOC DETAILS
❧ Quest magic: Players can handwave that the quest bond magic is tugging the group northward to the safe place, with the mysterious Heartstone. They can also use the quest magic as an excuse for many different threads. As the group tries to run, their scattering movements will affect the magic and cause people to teleport at random, allowing for many different encounters with many other characters. This can explain why two characters that might otherwise stay together through the whole thing might get separated.

❧ Network: The network can now be used. Mirrors can and do float if someone is trying to talk through one and running, and can follow someone as they move, allowing people to communicate on the go or during action. Feel free to start using the network in parallel with the log events.

❧ NPCing: The mods won't be npcing but players are free to npc the actions of bystanders, the Nightrenders, and the Sisters. The Sisters won't speak, just continue laughing, and players can npc their specific attacks, capture attempts, and teleportation. Please just don't have them talk or godmode them dying - they're currently a little too sturdy for that. If you have a question about whether/how something will affect them feel free to ask the mods in the first comment below.

❧ Environment: Feel free to manipulate the environment. There are things left over from the faire people can work with like bow and arrow sets from the competition, horses (which can be temporarily stolen, though we'd like to limit any that are permanently stolen to the (1) horse another player already requested), and even explosive faerie fireworks (they're quieter than the normal thing but still create a big bang). Abandoned stalls also have weapons and supplies to grab as people run for it. If they didn't think to steal or buy useful things during the day, please limit this to only grabbing one or two items as they run, like a cloak or sword. They won't have time to loot for more.

❧ Experimentation: We'd like to encourage people to experiment! Obviously ask other players if they're down first, but it could be fun to do something other than 2 person threads, like maybe 2 PCs banding to rescuing a 3rd. Players are also encouraged to set limitations if they think it'd be more interesting, like locking their final escape prompt from the faire grounds to a single thread partner and playing out the drama of a full escape.

[OOC: Plot is visible so people can see and start plotting together but not open until Nov. 1. The mods will enable comments then.]

Comments

[zerg_rush]

Kerrigan cannot claim to be a fan of situations that can't be solved by pumping them full of rounds from an anti-materiel rifle, so this entire mess has proved...trying. The smoke creatures especially are making her miss firebats—she bets a flamethrower would take care of those real quick. Unfortunately, she's on her own and her high-tech toys are nonfunctional. Time to...get creative? Ugh. Kerrigan hates getting creative. Getting creative means things have gone so far south any plans you had are now useless.

Stop. Think about the objective. The objective is the only thing that matters.

She doesn't have to beat the smoke-thing. She just has to get the guy with the weird hair out. Force it to drop him, then grab him and run. They can figure out together how to free him from the bonds once they're clear.

Kerrigan's eyes narrow while she stares at something past Raistlin, and she chews her lip in concentration. Might as well lean into being humanity's most powerful psychic, right?

A tug...and then another...and there's a crash as a half-collapsed stall becomes a fully collapsed one. Its cheerful red and white striped awning comes flying and flapping as Kerrigan's telekinesis pulls it free of its moorings. Seemingly of its own volition, it wraps tightly around the smoke monster hauling Raistlin off to his unspecified doom, and she yanks, trying to force it off whatever passes for its feet.

At the same time, she's out of cover and sprinting. Even without her psionic enhancements, Kerrigan's fast.

"You okay? Come on." The latter is an expression of intent rather than a command, because as she says it, Kerrigan's got a handful of his robes and is pulling him into a firefighter's carry across her shoulders, a position he has to share with her rifle. Really, this isn't going to be comfortable for anyone involved.

OOC: Telepathy permissions!

[hourglasshalfempty]

Raistlin's feelings of shock and gratitude are deeply mitigated by being slung over his rescuer's shoulders like a sack of potatoes. He acknowledges that this is the most pragmatic solution, but that doesn't make him feel any better.

"North!" he gasps out. "The faeries said to run north!"

And as soon as he's relatively safe again, he's going to have to live with the knowledge that he said it. The smoke monster might have been a better deal.

His thoughts are all over the place - terror, confusion, thwarted fury - but somewhere at the center of it all is a still point. He's out of his depth, profoundly so, but he's still watching and analyzing everything, especially the things he doesn't understand.

Which is why he notices the strands of smoke curling across the grass behind them.

"Quickly, it's reforming!"

[zerg_rush]

Most guys wouldn't mind having their faces so close to her chest, you know.

Kerrigan's not interested in a deep dive on Raistlin's thoughts at the moment (or possibly ever), and since his surface emotions map nicely to what she'd expect of someone on the verge of an uncertain but certainly unpleasant fate, she pays them no further heed.

Strong and stubborn though she is, carrying roughly her own body weight draped awkwardly across her shoulders in the form of a grumpy wizard does take a few kph off Kerrigan's top sprinting speed, especially in poor conditions like a forest at dusk.

"Can you free yourself?" she asks, not yet showing any breathlessness from her few seconds of exertion. "Grab a knife if you need to."

Even with bound hands, Raistlin might be able to take her up on the offer. There are quite a few knives of various types in sheaths scattered across attachment points on her armor. The uncharitable might even regard the number of blades she's carrying as excessive.

[hourglasshalfempty]

Raistlin has actually been trying very hard not to think about her bosom, actually, because this is all humiliating enough already. He twists, trying to reach the dagger he can see hanging just under her arm.

"I may - "

He's surprisingly flexible, for all he's got absolutely no muscle tone and weight about a hundred pounds soaking weight. With some effort, he's able to reach down and pull it partway out of its sheathe, then press the bonds against the blade. For whatever reason, they'd bound in him ordinary rope, albeit of finer quality than any he'd ever seen.

"Yes. Give me a moment." The bonds around his wrists fall away, and he grabs the knife properly. "My hands are free."

[zerg_rush]

If Raistlin's impressed by the rope, wait until he gets a good look at a 26th century combat knife.

"Great." As far as Kerrigan's concerned, his arms aren't the important limbs right now, but it still counts as progress. "Can you get your legs without me stopping? I'd rather not go hand-to-hand with that thing." Positions reversed (assuming for the sake of argument that Raistlin would even be capable of standing up with her on his back) she'd be able to do it, but most people aren't as flexible or determined as she is.

[hourglasshalfempty]

"No. But I might be able to slow it down."

Raistlin blesses Horkin and his wretched stick and the hours of bruises as he raises his eyes to the creature pursuing them and focuses his will. His mind quiets, despite the discomfort, the jouncing, and the strange view. One hand clutches her armor; the other raises up, ready to cast.

"If I can distract it for a moment, can you get us to safety?"

[zerg_rush]

Kerrigan squints into the gloom ahead of them. She doesn't know what a fairy tale forest is supposed to look like, so all the picturesque groves and softly tinkling brooks and mossy logs covered with mushrooms would be lost on her even in full daylight, but she has noticed the enormous old trees spreading their branches as wide as buildings, trunks as thick as she is tall.

"Yeah," she says after her moment of scrutiny. "But you're gonna hate it."

[hourglasshalfempty]

"I already hate this." Raistlin snaps back, and steadies himself as best he's able. One hand grips her armor tightly; the other moves intricate, bone-cracking patterns as he focuses on the thing behind them. Magic flows from him into the syllables etched on his mind. He spits them out like arrows.

"Estivas api!"

A vast wall of illusory flames springs up before the nightrender. It rears back, momentarily unsure, and focused on the new potential threat.

"Go! Now!"

[zerg_rush]

Before the command is even on his lips, Kerrigan responds to Raistlin forming the thought to utter it. She breaks hard to the right, almost backtracking, towards the tree she'd marked a second ago. It's an oak—not that she knows what that is—its trunk studded with burls and its branches as thick as respectable trees themselves. She plants a booted foot on one of those burls, gloved hands in turn catching at the spot where one of those branches joins the trunk, and she all but jumps into the tree, letting her legs do the work (and making at least a token effort at keeping Raistlin's face from picking up a bad case of bark burn.)

Convincing gravity to relent long enough to get them off the ground and into the camouflage of the foliage is the tricky part. Kerrigan is starting to show signs that the exertion is telling on her, breath coming hard. It turns into a gasp when their combined weight hits her arms and she has to haul them the last little way into the tree with only her own strength to call on. Why aren't her psionics working? She could have outdistanced the smoke creature easily with the enhancement circuitry in her armor.

As it is, she gets both feet onto a branch and pulls herself upright with a hand on the trunk, scanning for her next move. The low branch is so thick it might as well be an extension of the trunk, and it slopes off towards the forest canopy at a gentle enough grade that Kerrigan gets an idea.

Yeah, she's sprinting down the length of that branch like she thinks she's a wood elf.

[hourglasshalfempty]

"Lunitari save us - " is all Raistlin can get out before the woman carrying him leaps into the tree like a panther. Despite her best efforts, the bumpy ride manages to knock the wind out of him, and the branches ripping at his robes and skin and hair don't exactly help him catch it. He begins to cough, fingers flexing white-knuckled around her armor as he tries desperately to suck air into his rebelling lungs. There's the familiar taste of blood in his mouth.

"I need - " he wheezes. "Herbs. Black pouch. Right side. I - "

Whatever explanation he tries to give is lost in a coughing fit that convulses him so severely he can't help twisting in Kerrigan's grip, endangering both of them.

[zerg_rush]

What the hell? Just her luck she ends up saving the guy with asthma. Kerrigan immediately drops to a knee, lowering their joint center of gravity and decreasing the chance Raistlin's coughing fit will result in a fall that'll kill him and severely inconvenience her.

"One sec." 'Wide for a tree branch' still isn't very wide in overall scheme of things, and she doesn't think she can get him off her shoulders safely while he's convulsing. Kerrigan reaches over her shoulder to where his pouch is rubbing against her head, her hand moving with quick, sure gestures. He knows how to get into the pouch, so she does, too. The urgency makes the thought as lucid as the first line of an eye chart. "Here you go."

[hourglasshalfempty]

Faster than he would have credited, given the situation, the woman is pressing his herbs into his hand. Already open - he brings the pouch straight to his face and inhales deeply, barely able to hold his breath for more than a heartbeat before his squirming lungs force it open again. But the next breath he desperately takes is a little smoother. And then next one, smoother still. He calms in seconds. his breath still comes ragged through his throat, and he can feel blood trickling out of the corner of his mouth, but he is breathing. He wipes his mouth with his sleeve, absently.

"My thanks," he whispers, and falls silent, peering through the branches to the ground below. There's no movement, no sound but the distant screaming and the wind tossing the trees.

[zerg_rush]

"I'm not picking up anything, but I'm not sure I would," murmurs Kerrigan, forgetting that she hasn't mentioned telepathy to Raistlin. Those smoke monsters don't properly have minds, she doesn't think. She waits motionless, except for the rise and fall of her breath, already starting to come more slowly as she recovers from her sprint.

[hourglasshalfempty]

"I see nothing," Raistlin says softly. "It would be wise to wait a moment longer, but - we may have lost it."

He shifts, uncomfortably aware - now that they're still - of the fact that he is touching another person, in multiple places, and also her armor is digging into his liver.

"If it's possible to put me down, I would appreciate it. I can balance on the limb myself."

[zerg_rush]

"Yeah, good plan," Kerrigan agrees as Raistlin's uncomfortable awareness of his own body floods through her mind as well. "Let me just..." she trails off as she pulls a knife from one of her boots to slice through the bonds on his ankles, since those are relatively handy and she might as well do it while she's controlling his position. She doesn't trust him not to fall out of the tree and undo all her hard work if left to his own, clearly unathletic devices to free himself.

Kerrigan catches the now-unattached rope with her knife hand before it can drop to the ground and potentially give them away, and starts to shrug Raistlin off her shoulders as gently as possible, a hand still full of substantial bits of his robe, ready to move quickly to re-balance the pair of them if he should start to slip.

[hourglasshalfempty]

Raistlin has excellent balance and good dexterity; it's his strength and wind that are lacking. With a few well-times shrugs he's able to clamber off her back with little incident, visibly relaxing once he's one his own feet again. He balances himself against the main trunk of the tree, tucking his packet of herbs back in his pouch. He peers dubiously at the drop.

"It seems I will need assistance getting back down - but may we at least exchange names, first?"

[zerg_rush]

As far as Kerrigan's concerned, you're either the starting quarterback or a candidate for getting shoved in a locker. She's not real good with middle ground.

"Down's easy. You just jump and gravity does the rest." Yes, she's joking. Probably. She rises smoothly and dusts imaginary bark particles off her knees. "Sarah Kerrigan." She offers one of her hands to shake, gloved in her futuristic armor. Since he's now thinking about introductions, telepathy has already given her Raistlin Majere, but she'll let him say it. Long experience has taught her that people get weird about having their sentences finished for them.

[hourglasshalfempty]

"Raistlin Majere," he says, with no idea that's it's superfluous. He doesn't recognize the style of her armor, although it appears well made. "Are you a native of this plane?"

It's not his first guess, but it is his first priority after survival - finding someone who can explain what the hell is going on.

[zerg_rush]

It takes a second for Raistlin's understanding of what "plane" means to replace Kerrigan's, and a look of confusion flashes across her face when she tries to comprehend how someone can be native to an aircraft.

"Plane—oh, universe." Her expression clears as she fits what he's thinking into her own conception of reality. "No. I'm not local. Very not local."

She crouches to get her knife back into its sheath, then decides to stay there, letting one leg dangle and hugging a knee to her chest. His thoughts seem to float on a strange layer of defensiveness, but on the surface they speak to a sensible caution, not hostility. She doesn't need to worry about him, not immediately.

Besides, if she's wrong, Kerrigan's certain she can have a knife in his throat before he can get off any of that magic crap.

[hourglasshalfempty]

"Unfortunate. I suppose you know little more than I do, then. You've never seen creatures like this before?"

Raistlin doesn't sit, but he is leaning heavily on his staff and the tree, grateful of the opportunity to catch his breath. As much as it can be caught, anyway. The drifting smoke stirs up his already-inflamed lungs, and he fishes the herb packet back out, holding it to his mouth and nose as a precaution. The fit subsides, grumbling, and waits for its next chance.

[zerg_rush]

The incipient coughing fit concerns her, but not him, so she decides that's a problem for the future and resolves to keep an eye on him in case he needs to be carried again.

Kerrigan shakes her head in response to the question, lips pursed, but the denial comes with a caveat. "I just came from a...plane where reality was so unstable what you were thinking could affect it, so..." she shrugs. "I kinda got used to there not really being much in the way of rules. Something like the smoke monsters could have been there and I just never saw any."

[hourglasshalfempty]

"I see." So she may even know less than he does. Raistlin has several questions about this place she describes, but they are in a bit of a situation and it's not immediately relevant. He continues to peer at the ground, calculating.

"I wasn't far from the northern edge of the faire when I was captured. Where am I now?"

[zerg_rush]

Speaking of calculations...Kerrigan looks up and to the right while she considers it. "Couldn't have been running more than a minute, and with the extra weight and lousy terrain and visibility, not much more than two, three hundred meters farther north."

She glances at the ground below and develops a small smirk. "And about four meters straight up."

[hourglasshalfempty]

"Then we may be near this so-called heartstone." They're farther than he'd thought, but he hadn't been the in best position to measure. He looks up, trying to peer through the trees.

"Perhaps if you're able to climb higher, we can get a good look at it before whatever is there gets a look at us. I don't particularly wish to run from one trap to another."

[zerg_rush]

Kerrigan is in disgustingly good shape, and adrenaline is a hell of a drug. Of course she managed some serious distance.

"Not a bad idea." Speaking of disgustingly good shape, when she rises again, she doesn't bother using her arms to help. Without a hundred pounds of cranky mage slowing her down and throwing off her center of gravity, climbing a tree is nothing. Kerrigan looks up to determine a decent route.

Ah, there we go.

Rather than maneuver around Raistlin to get to the trunk, she sprints farther out along the large branch, up its gentle slope. It brings her close enough to her target for a heart-stopping leap into nothingness. Well, heart-stopping for Raistlin, possibly, if he thinks she's going to get herself killed and leave him stuck up a tree. That she'll miss the jump doesn't occur to Kerrigan, and indeed, she doesn't, catching a smaller, subsidiary branch above her head and letting her momentum carry her up and around so she lands perched right side up and a good ten feet higher than before.

Repeat similar maneuvers until she disappears behind leaves and the descending night. Damn thief-acrobats.