Ngarungadurung lets his own spear clatter away as he attempts to coil an arm around the spear shaft protruding from the devil's back--wrapping the haft in a way that won't be easy to dislodge.

---

22:02, Today: Ngarungadurung rolled 63 using 1d100.  Try to grasp spear. (?Brawl 60).
Hope I might get a bonus for rear attack--otherwise I've missed...

Staying with her horse Brigitte tried to get a fix on the fight in the bush. She knew she could be more of a hindrance then anything else at this point, but that did not stop her wanting to know what was going on. She also did not want to venture forth on her own should she become lost in the vast.



-

the Speared Man struggles, trying to lever the embedded spear aside under him to unbalance those above.

[Language unknown: "Ons mapre,"] Murphy warns, bent in pain.


[[Hmm. You have advantage fighting-wise i.e. another roll here because he's as prone as a guy with a spear through him gets...however, honestly I'd rule he's so easily stepped-on this round (which Ngarungadurung is at the end of) he counts as Grappled: if you'd rather, you can use either a straight STR or DEX to keep him pinned - he's at disadvantage to resist.]]

[[*gets distracted & fails to notice 'new message!' error for half an hour* Brigitte, you could try getting to some vantage with less bush in the way - a clearer spot on your cut trail within sight of the others, up a tree, on your horse - and a Spot Hidden, if you like. Things might get entirely too exciting shortly, depending. *juggling*]]

Ngarungadurung leans into the shaft, and pushes a foot into the back of the speared man's shoulders and neck, trying to force him prone. Either... he hopes... the haft will literally pin the devil to the ground, or it will force its way up and out through his back.

---

Yes, I'll pin him.
14:06, Today: Ngarungadurung rolled 28 using 1d100.  DEX (65) to keep the man pinned.

From somewhere out in the bush comes the sound of a terrified horse.

The other horses go tense in a way that's particularly worrying for Thomas, who's looking after the most. Beside Brigitte, Giselle raises her head and calls out, snorting with worry.

      *IIIiiihh-hhh-hhuhhrunn!*
 *hfft*

Given Brigitte's horse seems to be the most dominant of the group, it's little doubt that should Giselle take it into her head to bolt the others would likely follow, taking the bulk of the expedition's supplies and equipment with them.

The Speared Man's skin is hotter than it should be, as though his presence in this time and place is burning against the bound world with incredible friction. Ngarungadurung forces him down but the speared man twists, shoving the spearbutt aside and wedging his shoulder under him.

Murphy adds his boot to the effort, trying to tip the writhing dream-thing back, but with a mighty heave the Speared Man swings his legs up and twists enough to get purchase. His freed right arm's flailing pushes Speckles off balance and the forward tilt of his burning back threatens to fling Ngarungadurung stumbling over his head as he bucks like a thing struck in the brain but not yet killed, hissing like a death adder.


[[The dice roller is determined that the Speared Man won't be held down, apparently. Since he barely succeeded, I'll rule that Ngarungadurung has the option to try and make a Hard STR roll (half normal) to pull the spear out one-armed, since he had his arm right on it there and has momentum being shoved back. Otherwise, it's Brawl to attack or re-grapple him, at advantage (extra roll, take better result).]]

From somewhere out in the bush comes an awful inhuman scream that goes through every human mind and hindbrain like a spear, shortly followed by a cry of "Bastard!".

---

Behind the fight with the impaled devil, Murphy's horse snorts and backs up a bit, head high and eyes wide, ears flicking for the source of danger. The cicadas barely pause.

---

Giselle jerks back in a flinch at the sound, rumbling uneasily. The other horses have become decidedly more agitated, shifting and shuddering in a snorting huddle, only kept from breaking away by the slight discouragement of the reins in Thomas' hands and Giselle's current determination to stand.

[[a Spot Hidden, please, Brigitte.]]

Nearly letting go of the reigns when she heard the scream Brigitte mounted the horse and tried to calm it as she used the higher vantage point to spot what was going on. She loosened her sword in its scabbard and strained to catch a glimpse of what was going on.


Brigitte d'Anjou rolled 80 using 1d100.  Spot Hidden = 50.



-

In mortal combat with an immortal, Ngarungadurng's entire experience narrows to the distance of a pace or two, a moment at a time. He is vaguely aware of a scream, another combat somewhere, before he leans back down and redoubles his effort to control the dangerous beast below him.

---

11:55, Today: Ngarungadurung rolled 23 using 1d100.  Brawl (60).
11:56, Today: Ngarungadurung rolled 53 using 1d100.  Brawl (60) #2.
Hopefully he can get better position to try for a proper go at the spear...

Ngarungadurung moves in a strange dance of leverage, balance and threat that will end one of them, aware of every footfall. The spear almost flails out of his grasp, but then Murphy has knelt and caught the speared one about the knees and hauled back to flatten him out, letting Ngarungadurung reach low and get a good grip. The next footfall of the dance is on the Speared Man's torso beside the wound.

Ngarungadurung feels the witch-devil pushing up against the ground, the human bones and inhuman heat, the ear-filling racket of cicada song. He feels every part of the texture his hands are wrapped around. One good pull.


[[STR with the extra die on it there, to pull that out.]]

"Where're you goin'?" the sergeant asks, twitching his head towards Brigitte. She can see a rush of motion towards something large and dust-coloured in the distance from up here, but whether the latter object is Murphy's horse or a rock with foliage gently swaying in front of it she's not sure.


[[optional Ride roll if you'd like a chance at giving the horses some advantage against running away in terror...it must be said there are advantages and disadvantages to transport that can do that.]]

The spear is slick with sweat. Ngarungadurung's grip falters...

---

09:22, Today: Ngarungadurung rolled 82 using 1d100.  STR (50).
09:22, Today: Ngarungadurung rolled 100 using 1d100.  STR (50).
As always, a fumble at the least dramatically appropriate moment.

...and then Speckles has caught the shaft low down and heaves back, even as Ngarungadurung trips with the Speared Man's writhing and stumbles. Ngarungadurung has time to see the Speared Man twist about with the purity of wrath forund in a striking snake, then catches his own feet together. The earth demands his total presence.

When he's finished spitting leaves - all the while expecting a furious grasping and biting that does not come - he sees Murphy knelt back by a heap of dark mulch, soil and blackened bones, the spear held horizontal in his right hand. He looks at Ngarungadurung, but seems to struggle for anything to say.

Behind them, a horse hurtles at speed through the bush past and up, causing Murphy's mount to turn about in place. She snorts. The cicadas scream. The Speared Man is an inert mass of less forest than should make a man.

From her higher position Brigitte did her best to try and claim the horses around her. She took her eyes off the fight as she was unable to make hide nor hair of it from were she was so she concentrated on the horses.


-

Seeing that Brigitte is distracted and unlikely to reply before tearing off somewhere, the sergeant steps up and takes hold of her reins under the horse's chin. Giselle makes a sputtering grumble high up in her throat at the blood on his fingers and tries to pull away from him, entirely unimpressed.

"Quiet, you," the sergeant mutters, and nudges little Mulberry into skittering aside with the flat of his blade. It's at this point, looking over the huddled and shuddery horses, that Brigitte realises she's lost track of both wives, though she can hear the baby's thin wailing from somewhere, mostly smothered under under the cicada chant.

Since all stealth is likely dissolved by this point, the sergeant fills his lungs and lets his voice carry through the bush in general as over cannonfire, causing the horses to grunt and skitter in Thomas' nervous grip.

"OI! 'AVE YOU GOT 'IM?"

---

The sound carries as far as Murphy and Ngarungadurung in the bush. Still skittish, Murphy looks back that way again and starts lowering the spear towards the ground.

_-

Nagarungadurng, too, seems exhausted and disoriented after the struggle. He follows Murphy's gaze, trying to take stock of the situation as he gathers his belongings.

Murphy offers the dark-stained spear across and sweeps the leaf litter for his pistol, subsequently heaving up with a slight stagger. The bite seems to be hurting more than he might expect, though he paces forward to call back to the sergeant:

"Aye, he's got. Devil crumbled to dust but I think he's dead. Was it Duggan just rode past us?"

[Language unknown: "A prall theas k isit Iewiei Nce, alnt ove in p mi kor whendeove,"] he illuminates this to Ngarungadurung, gesturing to where the running horse had passed at mention of the beast.

He looks at the dark heap, disturbed, then back to the native man, at least polite enough not to give him more than a moment's direct glance with those unsettling pale-leaf eyes. [Language unknown: "Any stevic hi any ek na... Ie derastion u ck eveonehou u ekare ecng ati n il eean'aipa ourfortra ne tinaticom ilven oveandhis,"] and the baby, goes unsaid, the prospect drawing too much attention of hostile forces in the world to voice. His accent is clear over this many words, between serpent and ravens' speech. -and the whitefellas you had little reason to protect. [Language unknown: "Il derck lo hat, en nt p n hiate,"] he adds.

"Could y'keep up some kind o' comment 'til we're in view, Sergeant? I don't fully trust the forest here."

"We are over here..." Brigitte kept he voice elevated until she could see the returning men. She was somewhat concerned for the wives, but they seemed to be experts in this endeavour so she would leave them to it.



-

"Duggan's not with us, an' 'e went riding," the sergeant adds to Brigitte's call. A hint of building fury tinges the shout, that maybe Duggan was guilty after all and has just taken the opportunity to escape.

[[May I have a Listen from all Investigators on this thread, please.]]

21:38, Today: Ngarungadurung rolled 85 using 1d100.  Listen (50).

Brigitte d'Anjou rolled 34 using 1d100.  Listen = 55.

"Should I go on after him?" Murphy calls over, reins in hand. His horse turns an ear towards the forest on Ngarungadurung's side like she's heard something, but waits patiently for instruction.

"I just heard a whistle, off to the right. I thin k the person is some ways off. Has anyone seen the rest of the trackers ?"


-

The sergeant nods to Brigitte and calls over to Murphy. "'ang on a moment - get that fancy string rattle of yours ready to call a query, we're being whistled at." He takes in a long breath. "AWRIGHT, OO'S WHISTLIN AT US?"

---

Out in the forest, all the shouting is beginning to make Ngarungadurung feel exposed, despite the muffling of constant leaf-noise and cicada song. The riding-beast clearly feels it too, nosing gently at Speckles' shoulder until he rubs her chin in reassurance.

---

The horses near Brigitte have mostly calmed since the screaming, though the sergeant's shouting certainly has them skittish. He looks about. "-as for the Aboriginals, I think they're still about-hh!"

Garangwaari almost manifests herself out of the shadows of foliage, stepping forward. "We are here, together with you, but we think if one comes to attack we can close on him," she mimes catching something in her hands, her arms and carrying-basket both presently empty. "-Ngamurudyin has a weapon and our baby at this time, to be most safe. We have not run away."

The sergeant eyes her uncertainly. "Well, good to know," he allows, and resumes listening, though he doesn't seem to catch anything.

His back to Murphy and the horse, Ngarungadurung walks a few paces away and squats, listening and watching the bush.