Battle already in progress....

"Oh puckernuts," Jenny whispered, looking over at the scene, recognizing this tragedy in the making. Though her father had never really shared the memory of it, she recognized it all the same. 

"Where is he?" Ti'mma asks, looking around for Eric Jones.
 
 

The Dreamscape of another mind was indeed a dangerous place when one entered into it as they had. In fact, it could be deadly dangerous!
 
 

"I wasn't even around during this time," Hathar'ruil/Scouter whispers, awed.
 
 

The others stare at him as his form keeps flashing between his form of old and that of his Terra Prime body. All and all the net effect of a young silver haired elfin boy morphing back into that of Scouter, a brown haired elfin hunter with eagle eyes, and back again would be quiet fascinating if the others allowed time for themselves the luxury.
 
 

As it was there was more urgent business at hand and for one person in particular she'd already seen it....in herself so long ago.
 
 

A young silver haired elfin girl with an overlaying opaque image of a stately, lovely elfin woman with flowing sliver tresses shakes her head in slight bemusement. Seh and the others begin to head over towards the sounds of the drums.
 
 

"We must find where Jones has gone before he gets himself into more trouble than he can handle," a twin paired of female voices (one a melodious grown woman's voice, one a sweet young elfin girl's voice) said in duet, "Only a select few things act normally in the dreamscape, and I fear that the ordinary sidearm that he has....."
 
 

A scream of agony breaks the night and interrupts Ti'mma. They all look at each other in dismay and then rush headlong into the night, no longer worried about a stealthy approach.
 
 

A burly man in crude leather breach clothe clutches in agony at the smashed ruins of his nose, and I smile a savage smile in grim satisfaction. That scream of pain seems to have put off his chums for the moment is good. Give me a bit of time to do more in the way of rescuing my boy.
 
 

My son, who's looking back at me as well as he can (what with him still being held down by the stone age thugs who'd been ready to hold him down so the man with te now ruined nose can ram a stake into his eye) in surprise. The fact that he keeps morphing back an forth between what appears to be a grown elfin man dressed in green colored leathers and his boy barely matters to me.
 
 

If I'd had more time, I'd have been able to come up with a better plan than just wading in and suddenly finding my sidearm doesn't work, but as one famous Roman once said: "The die is cast." I'm at least happy that my hastily thrown gun hit it's mark with most satisfactory results!
 
 

The Star Fleeters complain that standard Military sidearms are not only heavier than standard phasors, they also don't have a stun setting! Well, I prefer my standard issue because it's got a solid feel to it as opposed to being feather light.....and too bloody loud when fired!
 
 

Okay, phasors are nice but I still laugh at the fact that an energy weapon will make a noise like something out of a hoaky late twentieth century TV show......
 
 

......
 
 

Ah, forget it! I know the strangeness about the Star Fleeters beings from a universe like the Star Trek show!!
 
 

Right now I have a situation on my hands!
 
 

"I don't believe it," One Eye whispers, stunned.
 
 

Didn't I tell you Dad was like that? a small, child voice says within.
 
 

A wave of pride and love sweeps through One Eye, from the other within him. One Eye also is feeling a sense of sense of dawning affection for the man... That and a sense of growing....unity within himself.
 
 

The thugs holding onto him, if they'd been actual people and not the fevered memories of a terrible event, would have been amazed to note the morphing "demon" has started to slow the process.
 
 

But that aside, the thugs jump in a good imitiation of surprise as.....
 
 

"Disssaaaaaa!" Eric Jones, his father, screaming his kia, begins to attack the thugs still on his son....fighting for his very safety.
 
 

The old, skinny man (actually a ghostly spectre of the man) as One Eye remembers as being called Spirit Man, the leader of the Tribe of Gotora (and the mortal human enemy of the Wolfriders) has taken on an alarming look of rage and fanaticism.
 
 

"Destroy the interloper!" he screams in rage.
 
 

The other savages scream along with him and charge.
 
 

They swarm in, not bothering for farness in battle.
 
 

So why should I bother to be far back?
 
 

Master Kenny, when he taught the class I went through back in Boot Camp, had praised the kneecap for being a great target. Oh, he wasn't a brutal, mean man and neither am I, but I must agree with the man. In the field of battle when it comes to hand to hand, life and death, when they attack you in mass...... I dare you to take me to task for not wanting to fight nicely!
 
 

Knees are low and I don't have to kick very high to hit them. The fact that once a person's knees are broken, without corrective surgery it'll take a LONG time for them to heal (if ever). Combine that with the fact that a man isn't in any shape to fight with a busted knee....
 
 

Well, that is usually. 

God, it's like these guys are on some type of dope or something, because they keep on crawling to get at me and my now free son!!
 
 

"Get away from us ya damn berks!" I shout as I smash a combat book into the face of yet another lunatic who's getting to close.
 
 

I'm about ready to scoop up my son (who's fighting next to me with some knife he'd come across) and run like Hell (things aren't looking good at all and I've already gotten a few...er....dings from this fight arleady) when the strangers from the next room and the ones who'd popped out of thin air in MY son's room make the scene.
 
 

That, and the largest damn wolf I've ever seen (baring that one Warg that the visiting children of D'Honaire had in tow). This wolf seems a bit confused at the turn of events, but it seems to be on my....or at least my son's side.
 
 

That said, it hardly seems to matter because whoever...whatever these savages actually are, they sure don't seem to have even a little bit of an idea on how to resist sleep spells! Hell, until recently (relatively speaking), no Military member did either (but training here on Terra Prime has redressed that issue)...... Still.
 
 

1. "Mr. Jones I assume," Astra 13 chuckles, shaking her head. 

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