Salvio Vitelli moved as quietly as his heavily-armoured form would allow, staying in the shadows as he moved through the shattered ruins. The clouds that covered the moon moved away all at once, and Salvio stopped in his tracks, pressed against the crumbled masonry of some once grand hall as his eyes scanned his surroundings, expecting a threat from every direction. When none came, and the clouds obscured the bright moonlight once again, he moved again.

As his eyes grew accustomed to the half-lit darkness of the night once again, he could make out the flickering light of a fire, casting dancing shadows across the ruins. It was towards this light that he found himself drawn. Still clinging to the shadows, Salvio managed to find a vantage point above the fire and pressed himself against the cold stone as he looked down at the gathering below. He could make out a handful of figures, gathered around a crackling campfire. The very sight of the fire, and the warmth it promised, sent a shiver down the holy man’s spine. The night was chill, and though the padded tunic beneath his plate armour offered some warmth, his face was bitten by the cold wind, and his ageing bones felt night air keenly.

Salvio was unsure of what his next move should be as he surveyed the group as best he could. Only one of them had the look of a hardened warrior, so it was to him that Salvio’s attention was first drawn. An old man, but even from his relative distance, Salvio could see that he cut an imposing figure, the armour that he wore obviously well-used, and the long sword strapped to his person was clearly more than just an accessory.

The other figures puzzled Salvio, and he frowned slightly. What little remained of Silverwick was a wild and untamed place, inhabited only by the forsaken, and the long dead. And yet the figures around the fire did not appear to be either. Two women, one that Salvio guessed to be a Wrelmsman from her fair skin and angular features, and another that wore light armour. The other two members of the group, Salvio almost missed at first. A stout figure, no doubt a Northman, and a young girl, sitting close to the fire. Still frowning, Salvio hesitated for a moment, before reaching to clasp the amulet around his neck.

Almost at once, he felt the spirit rush through his body again, and the voice, soft and distant, whispered in his ear.

“Well done, Salvio. Silverwick, as I asked.”

The man glanced down at the figures again, and the voice seemed to sense this, replying before Salvio could even attempt to ask the question.

“They are friends, Salvio. Lost and misguided souls that can be brought back to the light. This is your purpose.”

Jaw set, Salvio moved to straighten up before the voice suddenly spoke again, losing it’s calming melodious tone for a moment, before seeming to catch itself.

“These souls, Salvio, will try to poison your mind. They will tell you that they are imbued with the spirits of the damned Shadow Legion, and they will try to convince you that I am a member of that unholy group as well. You must trust me. Agree with what they believe, they must not know that you are an avenging angel, sent to walk among them.”

Salvio hesitated for a moment, noticeably wrestling with this new idea for a moment before releasing his grip on the talisman. The warming spirit rushed from his body, and the cold rushed back in all at once. The fire looked almost unbearably tempting, so Salvio rose to his feet, stepping out from behind the ruins he had been sheltering in and striding towards the group. Holding his hands out in greeting, Salvio managed a smile, despite his stomach turning at the thought of the evil arrayed before him. His voice was gruff when he spoke, but it cut across the crackling of the fire.

“Greetings, friends. I hope I can share the warmth of your fire.”

---

---

Gwynne’s hurried departure caught Adi’s attention only after she ran off. Kassandra felt it too. ‘Topesh senses something, I can sense as much myself.’
‘I sense that you think that’s a bad thing ...’
The idea of arguing in her head was growing less taboo to her. ‘Topesh is a powerful sorcerer and a great Legionnaire, but he put his own interests - his vain experimenting - above the Legion. For all my own failings, he wields far too much power to be so selfish. I can only hope his chosen is more focused than he is.’
‘She’s conflicted and lonely, and I have no idea if she really has the tenacity for what we are supposedly destined for.’
‘How can you be so doubtful of her when you are so unsure of yourself?’

She didn’t have an answer for that. The frigid night gnawed at her bones as the thought gnawed at her mind. She pretended she was a fierce warrior who would cut down an army to get what she wanted. She pretended to be a cold, ruthless badass without a soul and without hesitation. She pretended that her father’s crown and her father’s head were what she wanted above all else. Even Kassandra couldn’t see through the facade ... the illusion she constructed to fool herself.

‘Well what are you waiting for? We should follow them!’ Kassandra’s silent exclamation startling her out of her introspection.
Seemingly as an answer to the inquiry, another of the chosen emerged from the blackness. Adrianna bowed her head in acknowledgement and extended her greetings. “Welcome.” she addressed, “I must go now. We would not want Gwynne running into trouble by herself now. I suspect it would be best if she not be alone in this darkness. None of us should.”

---

---

Without a convenient glowing orb, navigating the ruins in near pitch blackness was a tall order at first. Her eyes adjusted to the night in the absence of the firelight, making the remainder of the journey possible. She envied Gwynne not just for the raw power of the orb, but for the small things like light that it was useful for. For some reason it seemed ... brighter. The church ruins and the surroundings weren’t as dark as the rest of the city. It also looked, felt even, warmer. Unlike the cold pale light of the stars this was more like what the fire threw off.

She felt the energy the moment she stepped into the church. A tingle from her fingertips to her spine, but warmer, more powerful. “This is aether ... isn’t it...” her comment no doubt startling Gwynne.
Adi had never practiced before. She like many believed the either to be gone after the centuries. The discovery had distracted her so, she hadn’t even noticed Topesh taking on a brilliant red. “Forgive me I- ... I had to see this for myself. It’s ...” she couldn’t put words to the sensation, but she knew this was familiar to Gwynne.
She just stood still, eyes shut and head lowered, breathing steadily and taking it all in. “It’s beautiful."

Fay had been sitting quite close to the fire again when it had decided to double in size with a whoosh of heat. The Wrelmsman woman dragged herself backwards quickly, before watching the flame intently, hoping to discern the cause. When it started to speak, she noticed that she wasn't nearly as surprised as she should have been. Tonight had tempered her to the supernatural, though her rational brain was concerned that this kind of event could happened in the future and she would react as if it were commonplace. That was a sobering thought for a student of science.

She continued to listen in silence as the fire was asked who it was, and it answered. She learned that it was Aktorr Xurtas, the God of War. It was this being and others among it whom Fay knew was responsible for the forbidden knowledge that was now in Quoris' mind, to which Fay now also had access to. In an indirect way, she had a lot to be thankful to this god and its brethren for. She had so many questions, but the God's fiery displeasure at a fairly harmless inquiry from Adrianna suggested to Fay that these were best to wait.

The fire went on to explain its displeasure at the failures of the former Shadow Legion, and Fay could feel Quoris bristling inside her mind. Feelings of indignation bled into her own mind as if it was she who was being insulted, and the thought "Nothing that went wrong was my fault!" swam in Fay's head before discovering it was in the wrong mind, and fizzling out. Fay willed her spiritual guide to be silent, and continued to listen.

As she learned more and more of why she had been summoned here, and what was being asked of her now, Fay grew excited and terrified in equal measure. One the one hand, Fay had many private grievances with the world and its leaders. The disagreements. The wars. The disputes and scandals. It didn't have to be this way, if only people would sit down and think! And Fay was being told, nay, given permission to fight to make her dream would come true. On the other hand, Fay wasn't a warrior. She was just a surgeon. This ask was beyond her. It wasn't even merely a case of strength or power, as the fire had addressed the concerns of another Chosen. Could Fay commit crimes in the name of their goal? Could she...kill?

The next statement of the fire gave Fay some comfort. She could have an even more important purpose in this team than helping them fight besides patching them up after the battle; she could be the glue that holds them together. They were strong willed and may chase their own short-term agendas, but Fay had no short term agendas. Her life was now one of a Chosen, and she wanted no part of her old one. Her agenda could be to keep the peace, act as the heart of the group, and stop people from falling out.

However, she grew extremely worried when news was told of men searching for the Chosen, pursuing them, with the goal of capturing them or worse. And it was now when the God chose to leave them. That had taken the golden sheen off her imaginary future. Now she was scared, and anxious, and on edge. How was she supposed to rest like this? "Then again," intruded the alien thought, making room for itself in Fay's mind and burrowing in like a parasite, "I am very tired."

Before she knew it, Fay was yawning, and her eyes were trying to close themselves. Fay didn't even want to fight it. She was tired now, and if they were attacked, surely the noise and commotion would wake her up. The God advised them to rest, and rest she would, as she allowed her eyes to close, and fell asleep.

In the aftermath following the Fire God’s departure, Dorian felt the exertion of the past weeks of training-travelling finally catch up with him, and sitting down now where he had previously stood by the fire, dropping his pack and gear aside as he started to settle himself in. Vardun was also silent for now, the Titan obviously either having nothing to say about the situation or being deep in his own thoughts.

He gave a tired salute to the priestly man who'd approached their fire.

"Feel free, its not strictly most of ours anyway."

He found that he had little mood for chatting with the newcomer, or many of his fellow Chosen, this had been a long road and some very intriguing developments, and the rest which the God from Below had advised would undoubtedly help to deal with both.

While Dorian's body was tired, his mind was working overtime. What in the world was he doing? Pacts with Gods, meeting total strangers from distant corners of the world who had similarly twisted or cruel figures of dark legend as he did, and what was now basically an idea of bringing the world as it was to its knees.

Not that Dorian necessarily disagreed with the latter idea, this world and his homeland had done him no favours in life, what little he had was through sweat and toil and that didn't amount to much before he'd found Vardun, and he wasn't completely unaware of the situation elsewhere beyond, or the Imperium that extracted its tithes of weapons from Braldurheim every season to equip its legions. The strong ruled over the weak in this world, and while he had no illusions necessarily of undoing that principle via the situation he was in . . . he saw no inherent contradiction in remaking the world via the same premise if they held such powers. And while he doubted some of the motivations of his unlikely companions or their patrons, he had no doubt in that.

So, with thoughts of the future ahead, and about the nature of newfound compatriots, and with no interruption from Vardun, Dorian drifted off to sleep next to the fire.

It had been a full week since he departed from his old bandit clan. One week spent alone, without anyone to watch his back, or to watch over the campsite at night. No conversation to pass the time, no chores or work to be divvied up. The only company was the light of the campfire itself.

And Beric was just fine with it.

Though he had managed to earn Derrick's trust, and perhaps even friendship, the rest of their disreputable little band had always been somewhat wary towards him. They respected him, and even feared him, but they never liked him. Tension was to be expected in a band of lawless brigands, but for Beric it had always been slightly worse than the norm. Perhaps it had to do something with the predatory look in his eye, or the way he would often use threatens and intimidation to get his way. Yet despite their dislike for him, they had still respected him, or even feared him, and would have accepted his leadership had he stepped up.

He hadn't stepped up. The strongest members had been killed in the latest raid, Derrick among them. The rest were either weak or witless. They were unlikely to survive without his leadership, and actually assuming a leadership role would bring him nothing aside from a sense of pride and a somewhat larger share of the loot. Beric decided it wasn't worth the effort of keeping five idiots alive, not when he had his sights set on larger goals.

I can help you with that. A rich, amiable male voice spoke up.

Beric leapt to his feet, grabbing his bow in one hand and an arrow in the other. He notched it and prepared to draw the string back as he scanned the darkness for a target. The voice sounded like it had come from inside his head, but that couldn't be right...

In your bag. The voice insisted in a calm, helpful tone.

Beric was not going to fall for that. He continued studying his surroundings, then suddenly drew back the string and loosed. The arrow vanished into the bushes, and a rabbit dashed away.

You caught me, I was a rabbit the entire time. The voice muttered sarcastically, before the tone turned somewhat impatient. In case you haven't noticed, my voice is in your head. I am not here in this forest with you. Now, if you want to find the source of my evidently irritating words, look in your bag.

Hesitantly, Beric crouched down, his eyes narrowing in suspicion as he opened up his bags. For some reason, his gaze was immediately drawn to the mask.

A few days before that final tragic job, Beric and the band had robbed a theater troupe. Among the items discovered were several masks. Derrick had ordered each bandit to take one, believing that they would one day be good for intimidation or disguise purposes. They never quite had a chance to prove that theory.

That would be me. Part of me, I suppose. Or part of you. Perhaps both. Really depends on how you look at it. Is the glass half full or half-

"Get to the point, or you're kindling." Beric snapped in a deep, slightly gruff voice, laced with frustration at the mask's stalling.

The voice inside his head sighed. Very well. My name is Cass. I'm the spirit of a powerful magic-user, who was defeated a long time ago, and can now only communicate through this mask. You seem like a kindred spirit, and I have nothing better to do, so I figured I might as well help you on your quest for power. Speaking of power, you also now have access to some of mine.

Beric narrowed his eyes. He was a skeptical man, and he still had his doubts. But he had to admit, he was somewhat intrigued by the voice's offer, even if it seemed to good to be true. There was definitely more to the story, but first he wanted to see what this mask could do for him before he asked any further questions. There was also the possibility that he had gone mad, but if he was mad... well, he wasn't sure ignoring the voice would make him any less insane. "Show me."

Put on the mask.

---

Stop.

Beric came to a stop. The ruins of Silverwick could be seen in the distance. He couldn't help but feel annoyed. "There's nobody nearby. I'd have noticed some trace of them already." He whispered.

Yes, yes, you're very observant. The voice spoke in a condescending tone that Beric had come to loathe. Though that's not what I stopped you for. Tell me, what do you know of Silverwick?

Beric sighed. So often did the mask insist on testing his knowledge first before simply telling him what he needed to do. He almost wished he had chucked the damned thing into his campfire, but the magic it had promised was real, and it was effective.

Beric had firsthand experience with that, after conjuring the illusion of a wounded girl in the middle of the road, causing a suitable distraction for some travelers who he then proceeded to ambush. There had been another instance, where another ground of bandits hadn't appreciated him waylaying people within their 'territory', and weren't looking for new recruits. They tried to get the drop on him, but he swapped places with one. The others immediately ran in terror, evidently terrified by magic. The final one remained where he was, still processing what happened, so it had been simple enough to put an arrow through his back. Then there was the mask itself, which Beric wore even now, though it was invisible to avoid obstructing his vision.

"Silverwick was destroyed by the Shadow Legion. Some people you know are gathering for a plan, which you still haven't told me." Beric growled. He understood why they had chosen to hide out in Silverwick. Ruins were rarely visited, and despite being... well, ruins... they usually had some intact structures that one could seek shelter in. As a bandit, he had sheltered in an old farmhouse or an abandoned watchtower from time to time. What irritated him was the mask's refusal to provide the full details.

All true. Though, as you suspected, there is more to the story. Tell me, what do you know of the Shadow-

"Just get to the point! I'd like to be there within the next hour!" Beric snapped in an exasperated whisper.

Cass chuckled in amusement. You know you don't have to respond to me out loud, you know? Simply thinking will suffice. Now, if you must know, I am Cassius the Cunning. I am a member of the Shadow Legion. The time has come for us to rise again and cast down the old order. Since we have no bodies of our own, we are delegating this task to whichever young upstarts catch our eye. You're about to meet those young upstarts so that you may develop your abilities and work on a plan. Is that a suitable explanation?

Beric scoffed in disbelief. The voice was mocking him once again. Pigshit. Now tell me the truth.

Centuries of planning and patience are not be dismissed as 'pigshit'. That is the truth. Though if you want me to fabricate a story, I can. My real name is actually-

Enough. I'll go to your damned meeting. That was enough to appease the voice, as Beric considered the implications of what 'Cassius' had just said. At its peak, the Shadow Legion had been great and powerful, poised to conquer the entire world. If Beric could even acquire a fraction of that power...

Of course, there was also another issue. The Shadow Legion was, by all accounts, not to be trusted. Especially the one he was supposedly speaking to. That was assuming the voice was even a Legionnaire at all... though if he wasn't a Legionnaire, then what was he? That was a question which dwelled in Beric's mind for some time, though at least he didn't have to listen to that voice for the time being.

Keeping his hood up, Beric continued walking, eventually entering the ruins of the city itself. You are not far. The Champions are nearby. And indeed, Beric could see the smoke of a campfire. He approached with caution, maintaining a low profile, and when the camp itself finally came into view, he spot a number of figures already gathered around it. Go on, introduce yourself. This an important moment in history. Say something memorable.

Beric considered his options. He could send one of the illusions in, but the ruse would inevitably be discovered, and they would think him weak or cowardly. He could sneak in and introduce himself there, but they might mistake his intentions. No, a direct approach was probably best. He began walking towards the camp, allowing the mask to reappear on his hooded face.

"Cassius sends his regards." Beric announced, stepping into the light of the campfire.

Silverwick

The dwarf brushed off Salvio’s request, and the priest was wrong-footed for a moment, but as he glanced around the camp, he saw that many of the group were settling down to rest and his own weariness suddenly flooded into his limbs. It had been a long journey, and he had taken little time to rest, the angel spurring him ever onwards towards Silverwick. The armour he wore suddenly feeling like lead, Salvio took a seat close to the fire, leaning back against a pile of crumbled masonry.

His peace was not long lived, as he heard footsteps approaching the fire. One hand instinctively flying to grip the well-worn handle of one of his hammers, his other hand wrapped around the amulet around his neck. He felt the spirit rush through him, and at once the voice spoke, almost as if it had been waiting too do so.

“Another lost soul, Salvio. You must gain their trust.”

Grimacing against the complaints from his weary joints, Salvio rose to his feet, releasing his grip on both the hammer and the amulet as a figure stepped into the light of the crackling fire. Tall and dark haired, the man had the look of a mercenary, and Salvio couldn’t help but admire the powerful warhorse that he led over the cracked stone remains of Silverwicks once broad and imposing streets. He raised a hand to catch the other man’s attention, calling out over the fire.

“Greetings traveller, how goes your journey?”

“As far as can be expected when one comes to these parts.” Gabriel replied, accessing the other man. “Agatho D’amere, at your service.” He gave a short bow. “And you are?”

Salvio nodded his head in greeting.

“Well, met friend. Salvio Vitelli.”

He gestured towards the handful of other figures gathered around the fire, shrugging apologetically.

“I’m afraid I can’t introduce the others, for I have only just arrived myself. But can I assume that we are both here for the same reason?”

“You mean the greatest terrors of the ancient world drawing us all here?” Gabriel chuckled. “Either that or you sir have some odd ideas about places to visit.”

Salvio managed to hide the stab he felt in his heart at the mention of the evil in which he had surrounded himself as he gestured for Agatho to come closer to the fire and sank back to his own seat by the fire.

“The former I assure you. That's a fine beast you have, how do you earn your coin, sir?”

Gabriel settled by the fire, his horse calmly trotting off somewhere else.
“As of now I’m not earning any coin. But I used to fight in the Free Cities. No shortage of demand for those willing to shed blood. And you, sir?”

“I thought you had the look of a soldier. I have no doubt you have many great tales of your time there! I am afraid I am nothing as grand, although I too have shed my share of blood. I take only what coin the gods provide.”

Gabriel laughed. Act or not, the idea of a Legionnaire taking in with a priest was a funny one. But then again, besides the armor, the old man’s clothing kinda looked like what Gabriel had seen among the clergy of some Free Cities. Not that it mattered much anymore. At least not for the moment,

“Which Legionnaire decided to bring a Priest into our wicked little band?”

Salvio hesitated for a brief moment, hand going to grip the amulet around his neck. The voice within all but spoke through him, as he echoed the words.

“Ravan the Unsacred. Still chasing your paradise, Agabyzus?”

“Of course!” Gabriel laughed, voice growing strangely smoother and accented. “Old habits die hard for both of us, it seems.”

Gabriel turned to look upwards, growing distant for a moment. Before finally speaking, voice back to normal.

“How did a man of the cloth end up tangled in this anyways?” He asked, amusement clear in his expression.

“The same way we all did, I fear. We started hearing voices in our head, and thought it was a good idea to listen.”

---

---

Like hell she was going anywhere with that bastard, or his puppeted wizard. Was she really so blind? They both heard the maniacal cackling he let out when he tasted that raw power. He couldn’t control himself, and he couldn’t be trusted. He saw the aether as a tool for him alone to achieve absolute power, and his ambition would jeopardize the group’s ultimate goal and their very safety. The irony ...

Adrianna had her own plans, stepping up her pace every time she heard the voices behind her. She didn’t care where she ran to; she wasn’t even paying attention to it. She just wanted distance between her and them, to be alone and to clear her mind. She settled for a moment well after she stopped hearing them, relying on some voodoo intuition that she was finally alone. She could feel the energy that had blasted them both fading slowly from her veins. By morning it would be virtually nonexistent. The things she could have done with that crystal ...

She tried for a moment to conjure it forth, pretending she was a sorcerer who knew what she was doing and not a disgraced runaway without a clue how she would ever be a Legionnaire’s protege. Nothing. She had absolutely nothing to show from a once-in-a-lifetime experience that a Gods damned talking orb had stolen from her. She slammed her fist against the adjacent half-destroyed wall as the pent up rage boiled over. In a thunderous explosion the magic within her veins blasted the wall to pieces on contact.

The shock, more than any recoil, knocked Adi back two steps, the girl staring wide-eyed at her apparent handiwork. ‘So that’s how that works?’ The thought crossed her mind that she had figured it out. Her blank dumbfounded face shifted into a laser-focused glare at another half-ruined structure and she took up a proper fighting stance. The part of the stored energy flowed from her body towards her fingertips, the cracking missile forming against her hand. With a single motion she stepped forward and whipped her hand towards her target, slinging an aetheric missile into the stone and mortar, obliterating it effortlessly.

“You’re too tense, relax!” Kassandra’s voice finally appeared once again, just in time to jump scare her nearly out of her skin.
“For the love of the Gods,” Adi sighed, “just because you can speak in my head whenever you want doesn’t mean you should.”
There was a brief awkward silence between the two, with Kassandra returning to her advice first. “You’re wasting your aggression in your posture. Avoid tensing your shoulders and don’t step into it so strongly.”
Adi reset her stance and conjured another missile to hurl, this one seemingly smaller than the last. “That doesn’t feel better ...”
“You channeled a bit less aether for far less effort.”
Adi didn’t like the ‘less’ part of that. “So it’s weaker-”
“No, it’s more efficient.”

Kassandra’s abrupt answer pleased her slightly. Efficient was good. She could feel the aether in her body growing weaker as she expended it. This source was only temporary. She would need a more consistent, more permanent supply of the magical energy if she was going to continue to use it. Kassandra being an incorporeal being that saw inside her head could sense her desires before she even formulated a thought. “Kneel,” she instructed, “place your hands on the ground.”

Adrianna didn’t know what her guide had to teach her with this, but she did as she was instructed despite her doubts and confusion. “You know what dark aether feels like now. Clear your mind, and search for it.”
And so she did. The ground felt ... like ground, unsurprisingly and was devoid of the blazing inferno that she felt from the crystal. But there was something she noticed; there was something warm, roiling deep under her feet. “Focus on it, and guide it to you,” Kassandra barely whispered in her head, trying not to break her concentration.

She focused her mind on the sensation, her mind seemingly travelling down to the aetheric currents flowing straight from Hell itself, and weaving its way back up to her with a thin strand in tow, siphoning raw power with it. It wasn’t as strong as the catacomb crystal, but the feeling when it connected with her was unmistakable. She pressed down harder, her will pulling at it more and more. “Careful Adi, your body can only handle so much!” she urged her chosen.

The girl stubbornly dug in, feeding off the power that was beginning to overload her. It crackled from her skin, searching for a way to escape her stubborn grip on it. Even Kassandra feared for Adi’s safety as all sense had seemingly abandoned the girl. Even her eyes had turned crackling red as the aether saturated the very space around her. In an instant the surging energy became painfully uncomfortable to her untrained physique, and as soon as she released her grip on the source current deep below every bit of power confined to her form exploded out without bound.

Adrianna dropped to her hands, a wave of cold and exhaustion overtaking her. She rose to her feet gently as she finally got ahold of her breathing. An uncontrolled, quiet giggle let itself out of her ... a concerning, not quite human cackle emanating from her chest. Kassandra peered inside her chosen’s head, silently observing the whirlwind of thoughts and emotions that was Adrianna’s subconscious. She had tasted unlimited power this night and she couldn’t get enough. Kassandra had indeed chosen her successor well.

Gabriel turned towards the new arrival from his place near the fire. A strong looking man, the sort that would actually have a shot surviving and prospering in a Free Company, and dressed for the part too. But that thought was quickly shoved aside as Agabyzus' seized the chance to warn his host, once again, about the scheming actor. Letting the advice hang in the back of his mind, the former Thorn Captain rose up, raising a hand in greeting.

"I hope you aren't planning on keeping that mask on, my friend. It looks rather uncomfortable and it would be terribly rude for introductions."

Beric offered a warm smile, though none of that warmth quite reached his eyes. He sized Gabriel up, and for a moment was reminded of Derrick. The stranger had the look of a mercenary. Cassius's voice could be heard in Beric's head. His master would be Agabyzus, Cassius began. One of the better ones, in the sense that he never sought power for power's sake. Still, that does not mean you should trust him. Not that it mattered. Beric never intended to trust any of them, not even Cassius himself. Nevertheless, do say hello to him for me.

"Actually, this mask is more than comfortable." Beric stated, but as he said that the mask disappeared from his face. "Sometimes, I forget I'm wearing it." There was a pause, as he considered his next words. "So, we're all here for the same goal, right? I'd hate to have come all this way only to discover that I've gone mad."

"I'm here for sightseeing." Gabriel smiled. "And because a voice in my head tells me to fight the rest of the world."

"Well, tell your voice that my voice says hello." Beric quipped. Despite his relaxed words, there was still mistrust in his eyes.

"Of course, where are my manners?" Gabriel replied in mock shame. "Agatho D'amero, currently hosting Agabyzus." He finished, extending his hand.

"Beric Vendal. Currently being pestered by a theatre-loving fop named Cass." Cassius was naturally offended. This is coming from an illiterate forest-dwelling cutthroat! Beric ignored the Trickster's comeback and looked down at the extended hand. After a moment, he extended his own hand and shook. "What do you know of our mission?"

"You just missed an enlightening lecture from a giant fiery head." Gabriel joked, covering the uneasiness and discomfort that the experience left beneath humor. "In short." He shrugged. "We are to take over the world and remake it in our image or something like that. The usual for the Legion."

The sudden appearance of the self-proclaimed "god of war", Aktorr Xurtas, had left Katerina in a state of quiet musing. Beoris, too, was remaining silent, save the occasional cooing to soothe Katerina's mind when it began to race. His presence was like a ward to fend off the greater demons lurking in her mind; oft it had been Beoris's intervention that steadied her rapid breathing, the clutching tightness of her chest, the uncontrollable shaking that wracked her body. So she sat in silence, even as newcomers filtered into the camp as others slinked off; she did not trust herself to speak. Child, Beoris began. You must calm yourself. I am ever with you, dearest. I will keep you safe. Now, there are new arrivals here. This demands your attention. Go. So, steadying herself with a slow breath, she went.

Two men conversed with one another, not far from where Katerina had once rested beside Fayvre's slumbering form. The first had a rough, vaguely handsome look. Long hair extended down just past his shoulders. The man stunk of mercenary. The other was well-muscled but altogether unremarkable in Katerina's eye, save for the scar extending across his face. What a horrid thing. Agabyzus owns the caped one, child. He is delusional, yet useful. In his time, he was capable of bending the dead to his will. The other belongs to Cassius the Cunning. That one is... good company. Do not allow any charms he may possess to fool you, though. He is ambitious, like me, though he hungers for little else than change. Not once did he speak to me of what he planned to do in the case of our success. He desires chaos for chaos' sake, I suspect.

By the time Beoris had finished his speech, Katerina was within a reasonable range of the two gentleman. Three feet apart, just as her lessons taught her when matters of the court were all she was expected to tend to. She gave a little bow, a graceful smile upturning the corners of her mouth. "Sirs, it is my great pleasure to make acquaintances of the both of you. My name is Katerina."

Beric was about to question the comment about the giant fiery head, but was not entirely sure of what he should say. Instead he turned to face the newcomer. She was young, too young for this quest. She did not look like she possessed any sort of battle experience at all. Perhaps an aristocrat, or the daughter of a wealthy merchant. Beric's first thought was that she was weak; that she would be dead weight. A dangerous assumption, Cassius pointed out. Everyone here was chosen by a Legionnaire, and they have all been granted powers just like you. Just because someone cannot best you physically, does not mean they cannot best you magically or mentally.

As to her Legionnaire, Cassius continued, He is Beoris the Bastard. Charming enough, I suppose, and hungry for power, though I don't recall ever hearing about what he intended to do with that power. He desires power for power's sake, I suspect.

Beric nodded towards her, his smile fading. "Can't say a highborn girl has ever been happy to see me, but false flattery is better than nothing."

Katerina did not waver. "Who or what we were before matters little now," She maintained the pleasant, even tone of her voice. "We now serve a cause greater than ourselves." Her smile widened by a slight. "Of course I am grateful to meet two new companions." She spoke in genuine, honest shades. "Please do not think me false, sir. Honesty is a courtesy that I expect from others, thus I must give it to those I speak to in turn. I say it again, it is a pleasure to meet you, truthfully."

Within her mind, Katerina felt the reverberations of Beoris' smooth chuckle. Well done, love! Well done indeed. That performance was impeccable. Cassius may know me well enough to be wary of falsehood, but that display just now was the epitome of sincerity. Impressive indeed. Katerina, for her part, continued to look on at the two men. Despite Beoris' praise, there was a sliver of annoyance within her. The first to address her had not supplied a name. How very rude of him.

"I never said it mattered." Beric countered with a cold chuckle. As he listened to the rest of her words, Cassius butted in. I wonder what Beoris has been filling her head with, He wondered. Either she genuinely believes in her own words - meaning Beoris has his hooks deep - or she is continuing to be dishonest, meaning Beoris has trained her well, or she was already like that to begin with. You'll assume she is lying, of course? Beric subconsciously nodded, an act which Katerina would perhaps mistake as agreeing with her. Good. Also, control your body language. They might wonder what you are nodding to.

Once Katerina was finished speaking, Beric looked her straight in the eye, and for a few moments gave her a long, measuring stare, testing her resolve and searching for any trace of deception or betrayal. "Beric Vendal." He said, extending his hand once more, and never once breaking eye contact.

She didn't hesitate to take Beric's hand into her own, thankfully gloved. Why was she shaking hands with this man? He should be kneeling before her. Katerina's eyes never left Berics's, and they never for a moment betrayed anything beyond what she had presented willingly. Then, the ordeal was over and done with, as the other fellow began to speak.

"And I'm Agatho D'amero." Gabriel greeted with a short bow. "A pleasure to meet you." He added amicably. I do hope you paid attention to both of them, Agabyzus warned. No Legionnary could match Beoris and Cassius when it came to deception. Keep your guard up and your secrets away from them and their hosts. Assume that they're made of the same cloth. Gabriel suppressed a snort. As if the Prince hadn't been lecturing him on the faults of his former allies for over a decade already. Valuable lessons should be reinforced, these are not mere sellswords, Gabriel. Keep your eyes open and ears at attention.

So, the rough looking, vaguely handsome man that reeked of hired help had some manners. It was a welcome change from the gruff behavior some of her fellow legionarries possessed. "Agatho D'amero," Katerina began, a trace amount of warmth beyond the typical pleasantries entering her voice. "I look forward to a long and fruitful partnership. Tell me, what brings you here, beyond the call of your master?"

"I found his goals and reasons worth following, milady." Gabriel replied sincerely. "In my years fighting for coin across the Free Cities I came across much that could be made better, just like Agabyzus thought in his days of full life. It's my hope that our endeavor will allow me and my master to follow through this plan and replace the rotten order that straddles the land with something better."

Beric studied both of his companions. I do hope you will show some more manners to the others, Cassius cutted in once more. I said 'don't trust them, not 'do what you can to antagonize them.' In truth Beric's first impression of the girl had not been a good one, but he had noticed how she did not waver, nor did her ruse break, and that he had to respect that. "There is strength in both of you." He grudgingly acknowledged. "I look forward to seeing how that strength works in a scrap." He looked towards Katerina once more, indicating that she was the one the comment was primarily directed to, though his expression was curious instead of doubtful.

Katerina looked back at Beric unassumingly. "You needn't worry about me, Sir Vandal." And that was all she said, just as before, spoken in the same evenly calm tone.

"To more important things, then." Beric moved on. "Who is on watch duty?"

"Two of us have ventured out beyond the light of the campfire. I know not to where they go, or when they should return." She paused. "I say this only if you should volunteer for the role, so that they do not catch you unawares." Another pause. "Though, I am not opposed to keeping watch, myself. I have rather sharp eyes."

"I have sharp eyes in the sky." Gabriel spoke pointing to the sky. "Though there's no such thing as too few lookouts."

"We should do it in shifts. Three makes the most sense. I'll take the first watch. The two of you could work out who takes second or third between yourselves, unless someone else wants to do it." Beric advised. "Can't have some cutthroat out there the woods living up to the name of his job." Of course, he had his own ulterior motives for taking on the first watch. It ensure that he would be the last to fall asleep, and also give him time to practice his new abilities.

Gabriel nodded in agreement. "I will take the second watch then." He wasn't going to fall asleep just yet, he really couldn't bring himself too in this situation, but any rest would be welcome at this point. Plus, Alessandra could use some rest, her wings must be aching after so much flying.

"I shall take the third watch, I suppose. For the time being, I will slumber. It has been many days since I've had a proper rest." This wasn't entirely true. The nights she spent on the open road with Beoris, resting beneath the stars? Those are treasured memories. "Sir D'amero, will you please wake me when you grow weary?"

"Of course." Gabriel nodded. "But for now we rest."

Beric nodded as well. "I'll start once most of us have gone asleep. We can use the moon to know when it's time to change shifts." And with that, he had nothing more to say.

Katerina meandered closer to the fire then, laying upon the ground in the most comfortable position she could manage. Drawing her cloak tightly around her, she allowed her eyes to close shut. It was little more than a ruse and an excuse to meditate; she had no intention of sleeping.

---

---

Adi was dead tired by the time she trudged back to the makeshift camp. It would have been a far easier trek had she climbed in the saddle and ridden out, but after the hard days of riding behind her the poor animal needed his rest too. It must have been some ungodly hour of morning, as everyone had gone to sleep without her. Even Gwynne had beaten her back to the camp, though that was hardly a surprise. She couldn’t be expected to wait on Adi after she stormed off like that.

She saw that her horse was hitched over near the others. Thankfully she was not the only of the group to have a mount, but for certain the group as a whole would not be horseback mobile for now. All of her things: food rations, armor, weapons, clothes, a canteen; were still stowed where she left them. Having checked her stuff she couldn’t bear to stand much longer. She haphazardly tossed down a blanket so she wasn’t on top of cold dirt, and fell back onto it.

---

---

Orange morning sun broke over the camp, beating back the chills of the night. The cacophony of birds in the stands of trees around the ruins sang their morning symphonies. Even amidst the remnants of destruction, life carried on. Wisps of smoke curled whimsically upward from the still-glowing embers of last night’s campfire, having gone out at some point overnight while the ragtag band had turned in for the night. The lighter sleepers began to stir from their slumber as the rest of the world woke up around them.

It seemed quieter ... too quiet. It was the birds, the birds had gone silent. Adrianna had cracked an eye from the sun blazing in her face, groggily coming back to consciousness and taking her a moment to even notice. Her mind, still in a groggy stupor, was unable to tell just what was out of place. Nonetheless she detected an uneasy stillness in the air; the others would no doubt feel it too.

The silence gave way to more subtle sounds that were normally missed: the trickle of a creek in the distance, the pitter-patter of morning dew rolling off tree leaves, the dull thump of horses at gallop ... horses at gallop. It was getting louder too, just faintly but enough that it would be noticed. Horses on fast approach could be one of several options, but for a group of would-be sorcerers that threatened every ruler in Avalon, there was only one sensible conclusion: a cavalry charge.

---

GM notes:
Having just woken up, no one is prepared for battle.Twenty foot soldiers (ten left, ten right) are hidden in the treelines on the group’s flanks, waiting to charge when the cavalry closes in. Ten cavalrymen are on fast approach up the plains to the front. The group is outnumbered three to one, but the battle is still winnable. The only viable avenue of retreat is towards the rear, into the burned out streets of Silverwick. Good luck.

Beric Vendal

Beric had been one of the first to wake. His life as an outlaw had forced him to become a light sleeper, so all it took was a bit of sun shining on his face to rouse him from his slumber. Look at that, none of them slit your throat! Cassius remarked brightly.

Beric was about to issue a mental retort, when he became aware of a new sound. The galloping of horses. Not just one, but several. He felt a tinge of dread crawl up his spine, as he looked around and realized there was little cover. For a bandit, a cavalry charge on open, flat ground meant death.

You're not a bandit anymore, Cassius's voice snapped, you're a mage, in the company of ten other mages. You have magic. Use it!

Beric quickly scrambled for his equipment. There would be no time fully arm himself, but he could do his best. It took him a second to don his mask, He threw on his cloth gambeson in only a few more seconds, which thankfully covered the majority of his body. Some gambesons were thick enough to stop arrows, and he hoped that his was one of them. He grabbed the dagger he hid under his bedroll, and returned it to its sheathe, before grabbing his axe and returning it to his belt. Lastly, he slung his quiver over his arrow and grabbed his bow, notching an arrow.

Then, he saw them. No more than ten, but they were fast approaching. There was no fleeing from them. If they turn and ran into the streets behind them, they would have been run down. He was about to suggest they flee into the forest, but then he spotted movement in the trees, and realized they were likely surrounded. That left only one option.

"Stand and fight!" Beric shouted to his companions, "They're in the woods! If you run, we all die!"

He glanced forward at the riders, who appeared to be armed in chainmail, and probably had gambesons of their own underneath. The quality of their armour was anyone's guess. They all wielded spears and shields, so they could probably block anything he shot at them, and he wouldn't get close enough to use his axe.

The one thing that wasn't protected was their horses.

He raised his bow. He had shot more than one horse in the past. It was a tricky thing. In most cases, one shot alone was not enough to make them fall. It would slow them, and they might bleed out later, but they would not fall. The only way to instantly and permanently stop them in their tracks was to shoot them through either the heart or the eye. Difficult, but within his skill, at least.

Taking a deep breath, he drew the string back, aimed at the lead rider, and loosed.

The shot met its mark, and the horse screamed in pain as it fell, landing on its side and crushing its rider's leg, whose screams soon joined that of the mount.

Beric wasted no time. Slinging his bow back over his shoulder, he activated one of his abilities. He quickly disappeared, and was suddenly replaced by a rather confused and shocked rider. Beric himself appeared on the rider's horse, on the left side of the formation (from the cavalry's perspective). With one hand, he steered his mount towards the second rider, and with the other hand he drew his axe. Too fixated on the enemies standing before him, the rider didn't realize Beric was approaching until Beric's axe was swung diagonally into his neck, meeting the gap between helmet and chainmail.

The third rider noticed this, and was about to turn to engage, but then Beric slammed his axe down into the skull of his own horse, before immediately swapping himself with the third rider, who fell to the ground along with the freshly slain mount.

Beric immediately swerved his new horse back toward the right, and charged it directly into the mount of the fourth rider, leaping forward from his saddle to tackle his next victim to the ground. But before either of them could land, he merely swapped himself with the fifth rider, sending the two foes to the ground in a tangle of limbs and armour, likely breaking bones, while Beric was safely atop a fresh horse.

By now, the rest of the riders were likely about to engage his new companions. That was not enough space to maneuver and take down another one, so instead he turned and galloped away. Only as he turned away from the battle did he suddenly realize just how taxing his magic had been - he was heavily out of breath. There was still some fight in him, but he doubted he could cast another spell.

Beric came to a stop a safe distance away from the fight, where he was in no immediate danger but well within longbow range. At this point he could have fled if he wanted to, but instead he drew his bow and turned to see how the rest of the fight was progressing.

“Salvio!”

The word was like a roar, and it dragged Salvio from his sleep with a sudden start. His back was stiff from the uncomfortable sleep, but his hand was already clasping the handle of one of his hammers as his eyes wildly scanned the clearing. The voice sounded again, like a bark.

“Riders! And more men in the trees!”

Salvio was already clambering to his feet as he caught sight of movement out of the corner of his eyes. A man that he vaguely remembered seeing arrive during the night, although sleep had already been dragging him under. He had the look of a bandit, and even as Salvio watched, he loosed an arrow across the clearing. Following it’s flight, Salvio saw the riders for the first time. Ten of them, armoured and carrying spears, they were quickly bearing down upon the group. Glancing around, Salvio cursed under his breath. The rest of the group was only just beginning to stir, there would be no time to organise a proper defence. He himself was only clad in only his chainmail tunic, his heavier plate armour lying against the makeshift bed of rubble. But he had his two hammers, and even as his mind raced, he could feel the amulet around his neck begin to grow warm.

Hearing a strange crack in the air, Salvio turned to see that the bandit was gone. In his place stood one of the riders, noticeably dazed, but still heavily armed and in the very heart of the vulnerable camp. Salvio moved quickly to cover the ground, but the rider was quick to regain his senses, snarling as he turned to face the charging priest, and drawing back his spear for a heavy thrust.

“Stop!”

Salvio channelled his voice into a weapon, and it collided with the rider like a punch. The man’s arm went limp, the spear tip dipping to the ground as confusion and panic crossed the rider’s face. He only had an instant to wonder, as Salvio’s hammer slammed into the side of his head. The chainmail hood offered no protection against the force of the blow, and the air was filled with a sickening crunch. Bone and blood sprayed across the clearing, and the rider slowly slumped to the floor, dead before he hit the floor, his skull crumpled.
Glancing back to the other onrushing riders, Salvio saw confusion spreading through their ranks from the right, and he could have sworn he caught a glimpse of the bandit, before he was gone, only to appear somewhere else. But Salvio had no time to question it, as four more of the horses were quickly bearing down on the camp, spears levelled.

“Salvio, there are some gathered here who are not warriors.”

Turning back to the group for an instant, Salvio could see the others were still groggily rising to their feet, and Salvio he bellowed out an order as he turned back to the approaching enemies.

“Those who cannot fight, find cover in the ruins. Those who can, hold these bastards back!”

The sound of pounding hooves was a deafening roar, echoing through the shattered remains of Silverwick, but Salvio kept a clear head. He could feel his guiding angel flowing through him, and while he stood, he would fight. The front rider was only a few paces away, so close that Salvio could make out the grin etched across the man’s face. With a wordless roar, the priest slammed both of his hammers into the ground at his feet. The sound was like a thunderclap, and the ground shattered.

The earth beneath the rider’s horse fell away, sending both man and horse tumbling to the ground. From his screams, Salvio could tell the rider’s body had been shattered by the fall even as he slammed one of his hammers through the man’s chest, the ribs snapping like dry twigs and the cries of pain resorting to a gurgle of blood and vomit.

“Salvio!”

He only had an instant to react, and as he turned he was able to knock the wickedly sharp tip of the spear to one side, but he had no time to avoid the charging warhorse. He braced himself, but the impact still knocked him to the ground and drove the air from his lungs. The hard stone paving came up to meet him like a punch, and Salvio’s vision was glaringly bright for a moment as he struggled to breathe, his ribs screaming in pain. One of the hammers lay a few feet to his right, but he somehow still gripped the other in his left. As he caught his breath, his vision came rushing back and he looked up in time to another of the riders baring down on him. With a grunt of effort, he threw himself to the side in time to avoid the pounding hooves.

Rising to his feet with a sudden burst of effort, ignoring the pain in his chest, Salvio was prepared for the final rider as he came charging towards the camp. Stepping smarty to the side, the holy man grasped the hilt of the spear, and held it tight, the rider’s own momentum pulling him from his horse and sending him crashing to the floor, his horse continuing its wild rush. The rider had half risen, grabbing at the hilt of the dagger at his belt, when Salvio brought the hammer down onto his head. The man’s skull cracked like an egg, sickening pulp and a river of blood spilling onto the cold stone as the lifeless corpse fell down, twitching for a few seconds before lying still.

With the three bodies around him, the stench was almost unbearable, the acrid smell of blood and the stink of death all around Salvio. But he barely noticed it as he collected his other hammer from where it lay. Gritting his teeth, the amulet around his neck hot now, almost burning his skin, Salvio squared himself, eyes darting as the footmen quickly closed in. He trusted that his companions would be able to handle the two riders that had slipped by him, but for now, he would lie down his life to purge the filth that he saw before him.

---

---

Two of the men were vertical much before she was. She heard the noise herself just as they were yelling to raise the rest of the group. Adrianna didn’t have armor, weapons, anything with which to fight. Once she came to and the adrenaline began to kick in, the line of horses were already visible. ‘Armor...’ her first thought was for protection in the impending melee, but there wasn’t time. She scrambled on all fours to her belongings laying nearby. The thundering hooves drowned the shouting of her allies. The belt with her knives somehow got haphazardly thrown around her waist before she took hold of her real weapon and ripped the leather scabbard off in the nick of time.

She got her feet under her for all of two seconds before what was left of the cavalry charge came galloping past her and she was forced to the ground again, dodging serrated steel flying at her. Most of the riders had broken formation or been dismounted already. Gwynne had acquired infinite aggression somewhere and was already taking the fight to one of the flanks. Two of the men were engaging with the dismounted soldiers. The other flanking group was advancing on them from the treeline, weapons drawn. That would have to be her fight, but ten on one unless she got backup would be a hell of a fight.

---

---

One of the soldiers she stood opposite apparently fancied himself as a master of her own choice of weapon, twirling a bladed staff arrogantly on approach while his cohorts held a line behind him. ‘Oh .... bring it,’ she snarked in her head. She was once considered superior with staffs during her training. This would be her match to dictate. He wrongfully decided to lead with a thrust straight at her head. She leaned right and dug into his staff, blade first, throwing it off left. She went to swing the bladeless bottom half into his head but that was met with a quick block.

Her use of a blunt strike had broken his stance briefly, clearly an unexpected tactic. She smirked slightly having caught that lapse, and then threw another thrust herself, leading straight into a top-down blunt swing. The guardsman threw his own staff up over his head with both arms fully extended to stop her, but that was never her real move. She pulled the strike, tapping softly and immediately reversing her entire action, catching the underside of his weapon with her own and ripping it from his hands. She juggled the loose weapon to the ground a safe distance from the soldier, shifted her grip around, and gave a hard swing towards her target, blade first.

The guardsman scrambled to hold onto his staff as it was lofted away from him, his fixation shifting up just for a second ... in time for razor-sharpened steel to meet flesh. Adi felt almost no resistance in her weapon, promptly scanning the environment for other combatants that she would soon be facing, meanwhile shortening up her grip on the now crimson-stained blade. She turned back to the still-standing figure of her foe for a split second, as is severed head tumbled pathetically from his bloodstained shoulders. ‘Holy shit, that was ... humans are fragile ...’ she stuttered for a moment ... and then caught a sword closing on her face from the right in her peripheral. In an instant she was in a duel once again, and a second later that duel was turning into a three on one.

Beric Vendal

That was well played, Cassius remarked. Though you used too much of your power too early. Do try to be a bit more conservative in the future.

Beric grit his teeth, but he had to admit that the Trickster had a point. He was out of magic, so he had to fall back on the tried and true method of shooting his enemies from afar. But due to his winded state, he was at a slight disadvantage. At least he had a horse, and most of the mounted fighters had been dealt with, so there would be no trouble in escaping should it come to that.

He notched an arrow, drew back the string, took aim, and loosed.

The arrow embedded itself in the neck of one of the now-dismounted horsemen, who had just been picking himself off the ground to join the fight on foot. A few seconds later, Beric loosed another arrow, and it embedded itself into the back of another former horseman. The man staggered, but he did not collapse - his armour appeared to have prevented it from being lethal. Whether or not it actually wounded him was something that could not be determined at this distance.

At the very least, it got the soldier's attention. The soldier turned and snarled at Beric, before charging toward him. A stupid move, considering that Beric was dismounted, while the former-horseman was not. Beric drew another arrow, and this time aimed low. The arrow struck the man just above the knee, in the unarmoured gap between greave and chainmail, which caused him to cry out and fall to the ground.

Of the six horseman Beric had either killed or unhorsed, only one still stood, and he was running to join his comrades in the melee at the camp. Smirking, Beric sent an arrow into the back of his knee.

You take pride in this, Cassius observed.

Beric nodded, his smirk growing in to a full on grin. He had been about to say something when he noticed the man he had shot in the thigh struggle to his feet. "Why won't you die?" Beric grumbled. This time, however, the man did not insist on a foolhardy charge - instead he limped towards the woods in a desperate attempt to escape.

It would not save him. Beric spurred his horse forward, and swung his axe into the back of the man's helmet, knocking him out.

Three dead, and three who were either dying or disabled. Not bad. Not bad at all.

It was not the sound of horses, nor the sound of Quoris' voice that woke Fayvre up, but the sound of battle. She shot up, having slept in her robes with her bow nearby, and snatched it up, before slinging the quiver onto her back. Not that she was about to use them. She armed herself on reflex. Now her brain was working, all she could think to do was to run and hide. She began to frantically look around her. All she could see was fighting, and all she could hear were shouts, and the clash of metal against metal. Her eyes finally narrowed on some buildings further into the ruins of Silverwick, and she willed her legs to start sprinting and take her there.

"Wait!" cried out a voice in Fay's head. The voice of Quoris. "I have calculated that the numbers are against us in this fight, and there is a considerable risk that our allies will be overrun. When they are, the soldiers will look for you, and they will kill you. You are a Chosen. You shall receive no mercy from these people. The best plan would be to kill as many as you can, to even the odds."

Fay understood what Quoris was saying, yet still hesitated. She'd never killed another man before, and she wasn't sure if she could bring herself to do it. To just...end a life like that, with her hands. Could she live with it?

"I can sense you hesitate. Why? It must be done. Your sentimental nature is unbecoming of a student of medicine. Life is science. The life of a man isn't more sacred or valuable than that of the deer you hunt. Why should it be treated different? If your emotions are going to be a nuisance, I shall temporarily tip the balance of your brain. It is forbidden knowledge and perhaps beyond your comprehension but the brain has two sides, one that deals with logic and reason. The other with emotion and empathy. For mere minutes, which should be long enough, I shall grant you the gift of clarity."

Fay would suddenly feel different. It was indescribably what had changed, but her head felt lighter, her heart had calmed down, and everything indeed seemed clearer as was promised. To avoid the serious risk of death, she must kill. It was not a matter of whether she wanted to or not. And why should she not? Were humans not animals? Had she not killed game with nary a melancholy lump in her throat. Certainly nothing that would bring great anguish and suffering. She took an arrow from her bow, and not a moment to soon, as an invading soldier on horseback had been charging towards her during her mental conversation, and was now almost upon her, expecting an easy kill.

Fay did not panic. She did not rush to meet her challenger. She turned her body round in an efficient manner, took aim, made sure that she was aiming at his shielded face, and let loose the arrow, which found its target with so little time to spare that she had to dive out of the way to avoid being rammed into by the horse. Now that she was safe, she looked around at the carnage, finding order in chaos. She discerned that the most tactical soldiers to kill were the ones closest, and on the road. If mass retreat was needed, the road would be preferable to retreating further into Silverwick, where reinforcements could surround the city. Therefore, clearing the road makes sense. She fired off two more carefully aimed arrows that neither cavalryman saw coming before they hit their targets, and both riders fell lifeless to the dirt.

Gabriel Digani

It was a testament of how tired Gabriel still felt that he fell asleep so fast in a place such as Silverwick while still surrounded by complete strangers. For all that they were fellow Chosen, he was still far from trusting them that far. At least with most mercenaries could be relied upon as long as you paid them. Or in his particular case, stayed around him long enough to have their will influenced by him.

"I have always sought to foster caution into you. And I see that I have succeeded. But now there's not turning back now. You all will have to learn to work together. In the beginning at least, I do realize some of our goals may not align in the future but we can't afford to worry about the future before securing the present."

Gabriel didn't bother arguing. Stretching the last remnants of sleep away as he left his consciousness roam outwards to locate Agathocles and Alessandra, taking care to ignore the whirling thoughts of his fellow Chosen. Or any other human minds for that matter. It was quick, after trotting away from the campfire last night, Agathocles had taken shelter beneath a sturdy half-ruined

Wait. Other humans?

"We've been discovered! Hurry to your arms.".

All around them, realization dawned upon the other Chosen as the enemy approached. To Gabriel's experienced ears, the sound of rushing horsemen was unmistakable. And so he ran, even as others shouted orders and hurried to stand their ground, Gabriel sped towards his horse slightly deeper in the ruins even as he also saw the incoming enemy from the eyes of Alessandra, now properly awakened and circling the ruins.

Gabriel jumped into the ruined courtyard of the ruined mansion his horse had spent the night, ordering it to come to him as he did so. A plan already forming in his mind as he took his longbow and quiver from its place in the saddle bags and half ran through the debris strewn ground, hopping half crumbled stairs to the upper levels of the mansion. Once he reached the rooftops, the former Torn Captain took a second to watch the battlefield from his vantage point, both through his own eyes and through that of his pet eagle.

"Call upon the winds, we can snipe them one by one from here."

He felt the sudden surge of power flowing through him as a response. His first target was the melee around the lone woman, he didn't recall introductions and at this point it didn't matter. Drawing his bow with speed and efficiency born out of years of practice and using his powers to boost him aim, he loosed an arrow that hit deep into the neck of one of the soldiers at the back, waiting for a chance to join the lopsided duel. By the time the footman fell to the ground, Gabriel had already nocked another missile, this one planting itself at the back of a knee as Alessandra swooped down directly into the fight to peck at the eyes of a man that was trying to sneak upon the lone warrior.

Dorian's dreamless sleep had been absolute on account of his physical exhaustion, so much so that he not only slept through the arrival of the remaining other Chosen, but also the initial call to arms by his newfound companions. Vardun however, was more on the ball, and painfully tightened the ring around Dorian's hand to snap him into consciousness.

"Up you fool! Or you're dead!"

Screaming out in pain from his hand and shock from the roaring Titan within his mind, Dorian shot upright, bewildered, but awake. Snapping his head around he saw his fellow Chosen in various states of combat with various enemies, the neighing of horses, twang of bowstrings, and clash of steel filled the air. By some miracle, he'd not been killed in his sleep.

"Practically slept through the whole damn battle, the way you were going. Don't just stand there, move! Show me what you learned!"

Thinking fast, and not entirely remembering where he'd dropped his hammer, Dorian felt a surge of raw power flow through his frame, the Titan lending him his strength for the moment. Turning to a nearby tree, withered and stunted but broad enough as it was, Dorian put his arms around its trunk and with a roar and a resounding crackling, lifted the whole tree out of the ground. Adjusting his grip more towards the center with both hands underneath its girth, Dorian hefted the large hunk of wood, making almost a comical sight for his comparative size.

He turned his head around, his senses becoming hyper-real. Whatever cavalry had charged them had been broken, but various infantry were still engaged, especially upon the on right flank where most of the remaining infantry were engaging with one of their number, Adrianna? He couldn't even strictly recall if that was her name. Her and the mercenary man with the Brass Prince, looked most in need of assistance.

Running up and hefting the tree in personal silence but with an outwardly loud cacophony as the tree's branches snapped or creaked against others around, ran past the mercenary as he rushed to the aid of his newfound comrades. Nearing the duel and seeing a couple more infantry moving to enter the fray and flip the tide back again despite their losses, Dorian adjusted his grip on the makeshift weapon and gripping the tree near the roots, just started flailing it back and forth heavily like a large maul. The two soldiers, taken aback by the sheer sight but regaining their composure, stood back and cautious kept their distance from the swinging flail of thorns and wood.

After a couple swings and seeing he was doing nothing besides keeping his enemies at bay, Dorian deftly readjusted his grip on a final swing and hurled the tree length-wise at the two soldiers. Catching the two off-guard by how fast the Northman was able to do this, the tree hit the two soldiers in the chest, throwing them to the ground and sending their weapons flying out of their hands. Their shields and armour even slightly dented by the force.

Quickly, Dorian jumped upon the one who had fallen nearest and with his ringed right fist, just started beating into the man's head. The mail the man had been wearing offered little protection as the force of Dorian's empowered blows shattered the soldier's face into a bloody mess after half a dozen strikes. Rising with bloody and scratched hands, his head caught up in the fevered pitch of battle, Dorian looked around for the other fallen soldier, but more importantly the wider state of the field to ensure he himself would not be set upon so easily.

Beric Vendal

Though Beric had put in more than his fair share, he knew that was no excuse to sit out. The fight was not yet finished. Once again, he put his axe away and brought his bow back out. Ignoring his own ragged breathing, he notched and drew another another arrow. He noticed two women in either flank, and though some were trying to assist them, they both appeared to be on the verge of being overwhelmed. So he took a breath, and loosed.

One of the fighters attacking Adrianna suddenly stopped in their tracks. He dropped his weapon and his hand closed around the shaft of an arrow that had embedded itself in his throat. Then he collapsed to the ground, blood pooling underneath him.

Then another arrow came, this one towards those who were attacking Gwynne. The arrow grazed a soldier's neck, and Beric cursed himself. If he hadn't used all his energy at the start off the fight, he would be able to better concentrate. Thankfully, it did at least serve as a distraction, as the soldier staggered backwards in shock, and then stopped to see where the arrow had come from.

A third arrow was loosed, embedding itself in the shoulder of another one of Gwynne's attackers, wounding but not killing him.

Then he shifted his focus back toward Adrianna. A soldier tried to circle around and attack her from behind, but that attempt was halted when a fourth arrow was sent into the back of his knee.