The once quiet ruins of Silverwick had burst to life, echoing with the cacophony of battle. A shout from Salvio’s side caught his attention, and he turned in time to see a short, strangely dressed female, crouching for cover behind a fallen log, a reminder of the forest that struggled to reclaim the shattered stone of the ruins. One glance at the ethereal, glowing orb that rose above her told Salvio that this woman was another of the accursed ‘chosen’. He watched the lithe figure for a moment, long enough to see eldritch lightning burst from her pale hand, crackling through the air and knocking down a bowman that had stepped from the treeline. Salvio’s stomach turned, despite the death that surrounded him, it was the sight of this unholy magic that sickened him most. For an instant, he questioned himself, his journey to guide these souls away from the dark. Were they not already too far fallen, would it not be best to destroy the evil, rather than try to save it? Before these thoughts could form themselves together, Salvio heard the voice echoing through his head, a burst of warmth from the totem that hung around his neck.

“It is not your place to judge, Salvio. The gods have spoken. You are the hosen instrument of their will, of my will.”

Squaring his jaw, Salvio managed to tear his gaze away from the white-haired figure, even as she moved towards the footmen emerging from the trees on their flank. Turning to follow the remaining riders, he saw them charge past another female figure, this one wielding a wickedly bladed weapon, the likes of which he had only seen a few times. While the exotically dressed woman had charged towards one flank, this one, more conventionally dressed, moved towards the other flank.

As Salvio’s gaze followed the two horsemen, they seemed to split up. One wheeled back towards the road, while the second turned and began to charge, Salvio catching sight of the tall, hooded figure an instant after the horseman did. Salvio could see the figure hesitate, a hand subconsciously gripping a bow, and his brow furrowed. There was a sudden rush of movement, and a metallic crack that echoed above the roar of battle as the shaft of an arrow seemed to sprout like some macabre flower from the rider’s face, the lifeless body remaining mounted for an instant before crashing to the ground. The lean figure fired two more shots off in quick succession, and Salvio followed their flight across the remains of their camp. The final mounted rider crumpled from his saddle, and another horsemen, dismounted and clutching at an arrow already buried in his leg, suddenly fell still.

Turning to find the other cavalry, fearing a thundering charge at any moment, Salvio saw that all the riders lay dead, their horses either fled or dying alongside them. A sudden pounding of hooves demanded Salvio’s attention, and he turned in time to see the bandit, the same man that had seemingly dematerialized at the onset of the battle and now somehow mounted on a warhorse, knock down a soldier with a hatchet.

A sudden rush of wind buffeted Salvio, and some sense led Salvio to turn and look up towards the rooftop of a ruined townhouse, a mansion that made up one side of their makeshift camp. A figure stood silhouetted by the early morning light, and he recognised the figure of Agatho, longbow clutched in his hands, the string pulled back and an arrow notched. The mercenary had clearly not lied about his experience, even as Salvio watched, he loosed an arrow and notched another in a smooth, almost natural movement. Satisfied there were at least a handful of their party that had had the sense to take up vantage points, Salvio turned back to those members that had embroiled themselves in the vicious melee.

Salvio could only watch in disbelief as a stocky Northman wrenched a tree from the very ground, and brandish it as a weapon as he charged towards the group of footmen that had encircled the brunette female figure, who was fighting valiantly with her sword-staff, despite the overwhelming odds. The two of the footmen that noticed the bizarre sight of the Northman wielding the tree broke away from the group to face him, but were shortly knocked to the floor as the trunk was thrown towards them with an almighty heave. Salvio was astounded by the sheer brutality of the Northman, as he pummelled one of the fallen soldiers until his head was caved in, shattered bone catching the morning sun as the short figure finally let up his assault.

All this happened in an instant, and Salvio, assessing what remained of the conflict, could see that his hammers would be needed again if the group was to prevail. On one flank, the brunette and Northman faced seven footmen, although even as Salvio looked, an arrow punched through the throat of one of the soldiers, sending them crumpling to the floor, desperately clutching the grievous wound. On the other flank, the white-haired witch stood alone against four men, and was hard-pressed, a spear thrust grazing her leg despite her best attempts to avoid it. He grimaced as he realised that he had to go to her aid, despite her being the very antithesis of what he despised, what he prayed to see purged from existence. Almost as if it sensed these thoughts, the voice once more echoed through his head.

“She is strong, and she cannot be lost if your quest is to be achieved. Go, Salvio. Now!”

Despite the pain from his ribs that every breath brought, Salvio gritted his teeth and set off at a lumbering run towards the footmen that were attempting to encircle the witch. As he approached, he moved quicker at the sight of a spear stabbing into her shoulder, but almost faltered as fire poured from her hand and reduced the wielder of the spear to little more than ash. The acrid smell of burning filled Salvio’s nose, overpowering even the foul stench of death, but he continued his run.

Arrows flew past him, although he did not know which of his companions had loosed them. The first grazed the neck of the soldier nearest
Salvio, causing the man to cry out, staggering back as he wheeled about to look for the bowmen. The footmen’s wild eyes found the charging figure of Salvio instead, and the look of confusion and shock was still etched across his face when the hammer slammed into the side of his head with a sickening thud. Pulling his weapon free from the shattered remains of the man’s skull, Salvio let the corpse crumple slowly to the floor as he continued his charge.

Out of the corner of his eye, Salvio could have sworn he saw the glowing orb burn crimson red, but he was focussed on the soldier in front of him. A grizzled man, clad in hardened leather armour and wielding a wicked-looking hatchet and a battered, wooden shield. He was obviously a veteran, and he had turned to face Salvio, the new threat. Brow furrowing, Salvio swung the hammer, clutched in his right hand, in a sweeping arc. As he had expected, the soldier raised his shield to block it, staggering back a step at the force of the blow, but Salvio was already swinging with the hammer in his left.

To his surprise, the footmen twisted his body, and pushed back hard with the shield, knocking Salvio off balance enough for his swing to go astray and miss it’s mark. Forced to take a step back to regain his balance, Salvio righted himself as the soldier launched a ferocious attack with his axe. Barely moving out of the way quick enough, he couldn’t avoid the heavy frame of the shield as it slammed into his chest and face, sending him sprawling back onto the cracked stone paving. Feeling blood already beginning to flow from his nose, and tasting the iron of it in his mouth, Salvio felt rage flowing through him, his jaw squared as he let out a wordless roar.

Both hammers slammed into the earth, and the stone erupted apart. The leering smile quickly faded from the soldier’s face, as his advance faltered, the very floor beneath his feet crumbling apart, even as the paving beneath Salvio rose up and pushed him back to his feet. The footmen dropped to one knee, losing his balance as the floor continued to move beneath his feet. Salvio’s eyes burned as he let his momentum carry him forward, bringing both of the hammers down as one. The footmen was still struggling to his feet, only to be driven back to the ground, the back of his head caving in from the sheer force of the blow. Blood still flowing down his face, Salvio slammed the hammers down again and again, until there was nothing but a pulp left of the veteran’s head. Panting for air, it was only the voice that brought him back to reality.

“Salvio! You are not done here!”

Grimacing, Salvio rose to his feet, wiping the blood from his face as best he could, before squaring himself, hammers clenched in his fists as he stood, side by side with the foul witch, glaring at the two footmen that remained.

---

---

Arrows from afar pierced the flesh of the soldiers encircling her, the product of her distant allies lending what they could to her dire situation as she wrenched her staff free of the longsword embedded in it. The numbers were bad, but the lack of space to properly wield her lengthy weapon would be the death of her. She poked and clashed, blade on blade, with the first soldier to her front, testing his defense. His expression shifted momentarily, a subtle grin prematurely anticipating his success, even though Adi was nowhere near letting him land a strike.

And then a scream erupted as the bird of prey sunk its massive talons into her surprise attacker’s skull. The jig was up and she thrust backwards, sinking the butt of her staff into the stomach of the ambushing soldier to her rear. A pivot, a loft, and a hard swing down embedded the blade deep into his head just as the bird fled. It didn’t break free until she planted her boot into the corpse’s face, promptly launching her backwards and into the waiting arms of yet another hostile. She managed to bring her staff up to guard her face just in time but got it pinned against her throat by her assailant grabbing his own sword by the blade.

A second was there to finish her off, steel at the ready. In desperation she pulled both her legs off the ground and drove her boots into his chest. The soldier holding her in a choke caught an arrow in his knee just as he was struggling to hold onto her full weight, and fell onto his back with her atop him. Her lungs burned from breathless exertion. The edges of her vision were fading. She remembered her knife belt and prayed she wouldn’t lose her head if she let go. Her hand slipped, she grabbed a knife, and started relentlessly stabbing at her attacker’s ribs until he released her.

She practically threw her own weapon away as she rolled off of his writhing body, gasping heavily as everything became unbearably bright with her vision returning. Movement on her left, swinging from above her drew her focus and with it her weapon. She just barely stopped the axe coming for her skull, but its wielder was fresh. Her focus was already drained. He hooked her staff and ripped it clean from her tired grip. She staggered to all fours and lunged for it, only to catch the leather of a boot clean in her sternum.

Her chest felt like it was in a vice, her breath being stolen away again. Panic cemented its grip on her. She rolled back and desperately tried to parry with bare arms, forgetting she didn’t have her reinforced bracers to protect delicate flesh. And the axe came down.

---

---

The steel met smoke and dirt, a black whisp racing across the ground, dissolving the fallen staff, and then Adrianna reappeared out of thin air behind her killer and ran him through. Kassandra momentarily had her, giving the blade a hard twist and ripping it out, shredding what was left of his heart as he fell to the ground. Adi came to in a daze, not sure how she had ended up here or even fully remembering the last few seconds.‘The hell was that?’ Where even adrenaline was failing her a moment ago, her energy and wits were back about her, and she took two steps back to figure out what came next.

‘Me saving your life.’
“Well your timing...” she grunted aloud, parrying another sword and twisting it off into a spinning kick, “SUCKS!”
It managed to throw her latest opponent back several feet. The separation bought precious seconds to strategize, and bicker with the voice in her head. ‘You’re a sorcerer now. Start fighting like one!’
“I got not juice left from la-”
‘No. Stop with that bullshit. Now do it.’
She tightened her grip as the remaining three soldiers regrouped from being attacked with ... a tree? She glanced right and saw Gwynne fighting for her life against better odds, and with backup. Kassandra had finally worked up the strength to help out it seemed. The same fire in her veins she remembered from the previous night had returned, giving her strength. Three soldiers, two swords and double axes. She didn’t have her gloves to grab them by the blade and disarm. ‘Go for it. I will protect you.’

She remembered what made this energy tick. ‘Aggression is power.’ She dropped her staff. She felt the crackle at her fingertips, and stepped forward to face the first challenger. His cohorts scrambled to flank her right as he swung decisively at her neck. She reached up and grabbed the sword with a bare hand. All three hostiles froze, and in their hesitation she struck. Adi pulled the blade over her head, spinning with it and struck with her free hand at its wielder’s grip, liberating the weapon. She turned back but instead of swinging for him, she thrust an open palm first, launching him backward in a blast of energy and into the waiting arms of the stocky northman Dorian nearby. She pivoted to face the other two, fearfully flat footed of the monster they had awakened.

Dorian grabbed the footman who'd been tossed in his direction by Adrianna, swiftly pinning him to his knees and snapping the man's neck like a pigeon with his bloody hands. It looked as though they had this side well enough in hand, especially since the swordswoman's powers seem to have awakened, good luck to any remaining troops there trying to fight the with one who could become the wind. Dorian had never seen such magic being thrown around by his companions, outside of stories and myths of days long past, but he certainly was glad to be on their side and for his own powers.

Vardun, who had remained silent since Dorian entered the fray, spoke to him. The giant's voice an icy calm over Dorian's racing hot mind:

"Not bad, my apprentice, you've made it so that the others cannot entirely ridicule your tardiness. Though I would refocus your attention to the other you knocked down with your creative use of the tree."

Dorian, his head still whirring from the heat of battle, had forgotten that he'd left one man still alive. Said soldier was struggling up to his feet, his expression in mild panic at how his comrades were being cut or struck down in what had become the disaster of an attack from his perspective, and his nearest fellow having had his head beaten in to a bloody mess. The soldier saw Dorian looking in his direction with his bloody fists and shakily grabbed merely his sword, not even bothering with whatever remained of his shield and took off running the way he came.

Dorian decided not to give chase, even if he could have caught the fleeing man in his super-human state despite his shorter size.

The Titan bellowed questioningly in his head:

"You let him run? To what end? That he may return with others?"

Dorian shook his head and returned to surveying the slowly tidying up battlefield that had been their campsite.

"What others? The ones his boss obviously doesn't have or doesn't want to field? There'd be no reason for him to run. No, let him go that he might spread word of our terrific work among his fellows."

"And if his superiors execute or imprison him for incompetence or possible desertion? I'd do as such to troops who acted under my command."

Dorian rolled his shoulders in a shrug.

"Well then he dies either way just as you originally wanted. Either way its more useful than us chasing after a single man who's already broken. No?"

Vardun icily conceded this logic in his mind.

"Clearly not all of my lessons fell on deaf ears. I may make a Legionnaire of you yet."

---

---

Gwynne had handily cleaned up her half of the battlefield, leaving only the remaining two imperials on either side of her to be dispatched. The sword taken from their now-deceased cohort had less reach than Adi’s own weapon, not that it would hinder her. She went left first to engage the other swordsman. He was still terrified from her display and kept stepping back with every parry. Adrianna thoroughly controlled the fight until soldier number two made his attack.

Her own stamina was approaching its limit from the protracted battle. She turned to block the incoming axes, throwing them off to one side. The fight needed to be equalized now or she would almost certainly be caught out yet again. Instead of drawing back the sword for an attack, she ran it towards soldier two’s neck and stepped around him. It wasn't a lethal swing but it put it against his throat right as she got to his back. As before Kassandra conjured a thin barrier with her aetheric magics to keep the steel from slicing into flesh as Adi grabbed at the sharp end with her right hand.

This position was uncomfortably familiar: a sword being wrenched against the throat of a hapless captive. Though now there was no wooden pole to stop the cutting edge. She drove her knee into his back without letting up on wrenching the blade back, forcing it all the way through his neck. Her own throat was starting to swell from being almost crushed a moment earlier. Her breathing was labored, but still present unlike the falling severed head. The jolt of energy from Kassandra’s appearance was gone and it was tiring to even raise the now crimson glazed blade.

The final opponent was four steps into a sprinting gait away from her. Meanwhile she was panting, propped up by a hand on her knee. “Oh for fuck’s sake ...”
She took one more heavy breath and broke into a chasing run after him, dropping the sword she’d stolen. For the first time in the entire battle, not having her armor weighing her down was finally an advantage. Her prey was just as spent as she was, so she converged on him in little time just as he reached the treeline. He thought he was clever grabbing a tree to pivot his momentum into a fast swing of his sword, but Adi wasn’t trained yesterday. She dropped to a slide, ripping a knife through the flesh of his thigh in passing, and vaulted herself on the next tree root back to standing.

The hunter smelled the blood of her prey. Like a wolf she lunged at the injured fighter, driving him to the ground before he could fully turn to face her. With zero hesitation she gouged her knife into the soft tissues of his throat and ripped it open, leaving him choking and sputtering as she gracefully returned to her own two feet. That was the last one to be slain; the battle was finally over. She trudged back, collecting her staff and wiping some of the blood from her hand before scanning the surroundings for the others.

---

The rush, the focus of battle, had faded. Death had a certain fragrance: sweat, blood, ammonia. Her nose coiled at the sickly scent. A few unfamiliar faces were now present, brandishing bows and arrows having done battle from afar. The help was not without appreciation. Her neck was turning unsightly colors from the bruising, but alas she had nothing to hide it with. It seemed some minor injuries were the worst of the damage. For being caught with their pants down, potentially literally for some among them, it appeared the rag-tag band of would-be conquerors had weathered the ambush without fail.

She dragged her feet through the grass and dirt, past weapons and corpses, to clean up what was left of the campsite and collect her belongings. Among the refuse was a body, a woman’s body. Adi just stood and stared in disbelief. She didn’t know the woman; she didn’t even remember her name. She shouldn’t have felt anything, for she had just cut down half a dozen imperial soldiers without the slightest reservation. She didn’t know them any less than she knew half of the other chosen she fought alongside. But realizing the real price of battle, she felt cold. A shiver ran down her spine, her legs growing weak. Two minutes ago she stopped a broadsword with the bare flesh of her palm. The illusion of invincibility she built for herself fell away, leaving only harsh reality against her bare, vulnerable skin.

Nonetheless she was a chosen, same as all of them. For all their power, their potential, their Gods-given destinies, they were still painfully mortal. Her body had broken all the same under the weight of hammering hooves, caught out when the first riders came through. For having felt untouchable just moments ago, it was a sobering reminder of just how fast everything could go wrong, of how steep the consequences really were. Nothing is without cost. The lump in her throat felt larger. Her breathing felt more strained, her own mortality subtly reminding her of its existence.

Beric Vendal

Beric continued shooting arrows from his perch atop the horse, helping out where he could, while the rest of the party fought on. Most of them appeared to be highly skilled, with or without magic, while others had taken less direct roles. Either way, the skirmish had ended, and they had been triumphant.

The mask vanished from his face, and he dismounted. Well fought, Cassius remarked. So, as you can see, you are not the only one with abilities. I trust I don't need to remind-

Yes, yes, be on my guard! Beric growled in his head, as he led his newly acquired horse to a nearby tree and began to tie it. Why did this fop of an actor insist on reminding him of the obvious? Once his horse was tied, he looked down at the ground and spat.

Your manners need some work... you do know some of those currently present are nobility, right? They tend to be easily provoked.

And now they're outlaws just like me. I don't get a rat's ass if they don't like my 'manners'. He walked to the nearest corpse, pulled out his knife, and slit the fallen man's throat, just to be certain the soldier was dead. Then he quickly and methodically patted him down, taking anything of value. Once he was done, he moved on to the next body and did the same. I'll be a noble myself one day. Maybe even a King.

A king need friends, soldiers, allies, and subjects. Unless you have those, you can't just kill a King and take his place. Cassius pointed out, while Beric was looting a third body. But who needs Kings anyways? Why not a different system, one where-

Enough, Beric thought as he slit yet another throat, and pocketed another small handful of coin. I'm the one with the body, not you. I choose what happens. Then as he knelt down next to the fourth body he briefly glanced at his allies. I've already proved my strength in battle. If they're too weak to handle some rude words, why should I even work with them? Besides, that girl there has the look of a noble, but I heard her swearing like a common thug.

Cassius chuckled. True enough. Still, manners are important.

Beric didn't respond to that. After his sixth body, he stopped looting, and instead focused solely on cutting throats.

Blood still streaming from his nose, ribs aching, and the amulet around his neck burning hot against his skin, Salvio was a vessel of righteous fury. He didn’t hear the muttered thanks from his makeshift ally, he didn’t hear anything except the roar in his ears, and the soft, angelic voice that echoed around his head, the hammers slipping from his grasp and falling to the floor.
While the witch handled one of the remaining footmen, Salvio’s burning eyes turned to face the other. He saw the glimmer of fear in the man’s eyes, and it was the only window he needed. Even above the sound of battle, Salvio’s voice was a roar.

“Drop it!”

The soldiers spear fell from a suddenly loose grip, clattering against the cracked stone at his feet. He only had an instant to look down at his discarded weapon, dumbfounded, before Salvio was upon him. One hand grabbing the front of the footman’s leather jerkin, the warrior priest punched him across the face. Once. Twice. Three times. Salvio could feel the bones shifting beneath his fist with each blow, and when he finally lowered his bloody, aching fist, the soldier’s face was little more than a mangled, broken mess.

With a wordless shout, and a clenching of his free hand, Salvio felt the power from the amulet, the heat of it flowing through him for an instant, and with a sudden crack, the earth itself burst upwards a few feet. The ruptured earth had the appearance of some strange, twisted stalagmite, but Salvio paid it no attention. He leant close to the face of the soldier, the only sound the rasping breath through broken teeth, and he spoke in a low voice.

“I hope your gods judge you fairly.”

Teeth gritted, and very limbs aching, Salvio lifted the soldier into the air, holding the man up for an instant, before bringing the limp body crashing down. The pillar of broken earth punched through the man’s chest with a splintering of bone, spraying blood across Salvio’s already blood-stained face. The screams of pain were horrific, but they were short-lived. Salvio straightened up, and glanced down at the twisted face of the corpse. He couldn’t be sure if it was the shock or the horrendous injuries that had killed him, but Salvio couldn’t find it within himself to care.

The power of the amulet suddenly left him, and the weariness, and the pain, hit Salvio like a wave. He groaned slightly, dropping to one knee for a moment. His chest still ached, the ribs still sore from the collision with the warhorse, what seemed like an eternity ago. The flow of blood from his nose had subsided, but the pain had not faded. And the sheer exertion had drained his body of much of it’s strength.

A voice called him back to the present, and he turned slightly to see that the foul witch had knocked the other footman to the ground, four bolts of what looked like ice pinned the terrified man to the floor, and Salvio couldn’t help but feel a chill in the air.

Glancing around at the carnage of the battle, Salvio saw that their attackers had all been slain, or were otherwise handled. Allowing himself to relax, he slowly rose to his feet. Picking up his hammers from where they had fallen, Salvio walked back to their campsite, wincing slightly with each step. He vaguely noticed that another of the ‘possessed’ had followed suit, but he paid the young woman no heed, instead moving to his own pack of modest belongings. Picking up his heavy plate armour, Salvio began the rhythmic process of putting it on, lest there were any other uninvited guests.

Gabriel made one last sweep over the battlefield, upon confirming that all the attackers had been dealt with by the party -and what party! If only he had people like these during his days as the Thorn Captain- the former mercenary Captain consciously released his hold over the Sybarite Eagle, which then promptly descended to feast on the slain, and put away his bow. Making his way back down from his vantage point and into the ruined courtyard where Megathocles had obediently waited during the entire skirmish.

The warhorse didn't need any prompt, mental or otherwise, to come to his master when he heard his descent. Though Gabriel could feel the slight frustration through their bond. Megathocles had been brought when Gabriel had been made Thorn Captain. That meant; for the most part, good food and privileged attention from stableboys and the company's veterinarians. Gabriel himself wasn't ignorant when it came to taking care of his horse, but it had been a long time ever since he last had to actually bother himself with the gritty details of the act. It would be a learning experience for both of them.

"We must leave at once." Agabyzus warned as Gabriel spurred his horse out of the ruins and into the decayed streets.

"No need to tell me that. But we can't rush out without a plan, there could be more waiting for us at the city's approaches."

"Then come up with a plan. Act like the Captain you are and bring our fellow Legionnaires to safety."

"We need scouts, fast and light. Alessandra can help but not only her. Information too, we need to drain what we can from the prisoners without wasting time."

"It's a start..." Agabyzus conceded, remaining silent for the rest of the short trip.

Gabriel eventually reached his fellow Legionnaires, no doubt already aware of his arrival by the thundering of his horse's hooves. Bringing his horse to a sudden stop, he called out to the others:

"We have been compromised! Make ready to break camp and move soon! Loot the bodies and make sure to eat something. It's going to be a long trip!"

With that he turned to his nearest companion, the priest-"Salvio"- and asked, ignoring the growing taste of blood and guts in his mouth, seeping through his bond due to the proximity to Alessandra feasting on a particular carcass.

"Salvio, my good man, have we captured any of them alive? Do we know anything about these attackers?"

Salvio winced slightly as he tightened the last strap of his armour, feeling the pressure against his bruised ribs, but he gritted his teeth against the pain. Pulling the tattered remains of a blanket from where it lay, discard, amongst the wrecked remains of the groups camp, Salvio wiped his two hammers clean, before strapping them to his belt. Hearing pounding of hooves, he tensed suddenly, gripping the handles of his weapons before he turned to see that it was not another cavalryman. Instead, Agatho had descended from his perch upon the rooftop of the ruined mansion and retrieved his warhorse from wherever it had been waiting during the skirmish.

Seemingly taking it upon himself to take command of the group, the mercenary barked out orders to the other ‘possessed’. Salvio ached too much to protest, and shrugged slightly, turning to prepare his simple belongings for their journey. To his surprise, Agatho turned to him, and spoke in a clam voice that seemed macabrely out of place in the midst of the carnage that the two of them stood in.

Salvio gestured towards where the footmen still struggled against the bolts of ice that pinned him to the floor, and when he spoke his voice was hoarse.

“The witch has one of them trapped over there. As for our attackers, all I know is that they knew we were here. And that doesn’t fill me with trust.”

As soon as all of the attacking soldiers were slain, Fay's brain reverted to it's usual chemistry, and mere seconds later, Fay was on her knees, throwing up behind a wall. She's just taken the lives of three men, but although this was upsetting her, she couldn't cry. She was trying to. She wanted to. But she couldn't cry. Maybe seeing so much death in the past had hardened her emotionally, but she'd always tried to save them. She'd never killed them herself, on purpose.

"Killing will get easier now that you've done it for the first time." spoke the voice in her head.

"It was easy. That's the worst part. Maybe it was what you did to me, but even though it's worn off, I know I could do that again, and that scares me. Murder shouldn't be easy."

"You are going to have to do a lot of things you do not want to in the coming days and months. Many more people will perish, some by your hand, and I will not alter your brain next time. This may not be what you want me to say to you, but it is what you need to hear. I have never been a sugar-coater."

"Thanks for the rallying talk," Fay thought back sarcastically, before she stood up and approached the rest of the chosen. As she did, she looked around and assessed the scene. Quoris was right, of course, and so was Fay. She had seen so much death that the bodies she had killed did not stir emotion from her. Besides, the soldiers were here to kill them. If anybody should feel guilty for the widowed wives and orphaned children, it was the soldiers. They chose this path. They chose to face danger. They chose to fight. The Chosen of the Legionnaires did not.

"Does anybody need medical attention?" she asked aloud.

---

---

A rumble in the air snapped Adi from her somber stare. Another horse. Even in her exhausted state, she reflexively turned to face what was almost certainly a second round of hostile forces. Mercifully it was just another of the party and not more soldiers. In her battered state, a second wave would be a tall order to survive without question. He seemed to have fared the battle far better than she did. She was alive though, and that had to count for something. There definitely would be a round two if they stayed here.
"We have been compromised! Make ready to break camp and move soon!"
Here he was taking charge. This band of misfits would be a hard one to rally under a single plan, though he was right. Getting far away from here was the only sound course of action. "No shit ... how in the hell did they find us?!" she hollered as he and his horse strode past.

"That's what we need to find out!" Gabriel shouted back, bringing his horse to a stop "Where's the prisoner?"
"Over there with our practicing witch," Adi gestured with her free hand towards where Gwynne had the terrified imperial soldier pinned to the dirt.
"It's a start..." Gabriel half muttered as he dismounted. "I don't suppose you have any actual experience in interrogation?" He asked the woman.
She looked over towards where the captive was still held. He would be a seasoned fighter like the rest, but none of the imperials were mentally prepared to face down sorcerers as powerful as any one of them. He looked barely older than she was and he was scared shitless. "I don't think that's even necessary," she remarked, "He's pissed himself already. Look at him funny and he'll tell you everything he knows."
But what did he know? That was the question. Who among them had they tracked to find them here?
"Good." Gabriel smiled, extending an arm for his eagle to land upon. "It has been a while since I last had to break some legs personally". He then turned fully to look at Adi. "You look threatening enough, follow me." And with that he moved towards the prisoner and his captor.

Her .... threatening ... Her neck was black as the ribbon on her necklace, her hair was a nasty tangled mess, and her clothes were torn in more than one place from being caught by sharpened steel. "Honest question, what's it matter?" she yelled after him, "They found us this time, they'll find us again. At this rate they'll pick us all off one by one." her melancholy pessimism reared its head again.
Gabriel stopped, turning slowly towards the woman with a slight frown on his face. "By all means, walk out and look for the nearest Imperial patrol if you have already given up."
"You know what I mean!" that was a little too pointed for her liking, "Running around camping in abandoned ruins and dark forests only slows down Vahkran's goons. It won't stop them."
"If you would stop moaning and crying for a moment, girl." Gabriel spat, taking a moment to put down his growing irritation.
Her eyes snapped up towards him. She shrugged off most things without issue but that was over a line. She stomped after him, fist tightening against her weapon."Say that again and you'll find out just how injured I am ..." she growled through grit teeth, "Now show me you have a plan that isn't suicide."
'Now is not the time to fi-' 'Shut. It. Kassandra.' she cut off the voice in her head.
"The entire world wants us dead." Gabriel replied, deliberately keeping his voice level. "If we are to have any chance to succeed in our mission, we need to be careful and come up with a plan. The Imperial whelp might not know much of the machinations that brought him here, but he's sure to know if there are more patrols in the area, their numbers and general dispositions. We need to get out of these ruins and lose our pursuers, if there are more of them. Once we have achieved some measure of safety, then we can sit down and work out our next step."

Adi took a breath, not breaking her burning stare. "Alright fine," she conceded, still peeved, "We find out what the whelp knows, and then we figure out where on the gods' earth we can go from here."
"Then let's go." Gabriel replied simply as he resumed his walk to the captive. "Keep the angry face." He chuckled, petting the eagle that had now moved onto his shoulder. Beneath the calm facade, Gabriel was already wondering how he would deal with this group if all future interactions were going to be like that. "Alas, these are not your mercenaries. Making them follow you will be much more challenging than simply commanding sellswords. Nor it's something we particularly want, my fellow Legionnaires are a prideful bunch, they won't take it kindly to you ordering them around"

---

"Speak!" Gwynne commanded as she willed a shard of ice deeper into the footman's wound.
The man let out a cry of pain. He had a look of fear on his face, a fear that Gwynne was all too familiar with. People who had beared witness to her magical talent feared her like the footman did. He whimpered, "Gods Above, protect me! Gods Above, deliver me from this evil!"
Gwynne clenched her teeth. She wasn't going to make much progress with a man attempting to find faith as his last resort. The force orb orbited around Gwynne, the light pulsating from it slowly. Topesh spoke for everyone to hear, "There are more effective ways to glean information from broken men, Apostate. "

"But none more expedient!" Adrianna bellowed from a distance, overhearing the talking ball trying to countermand its bearer.
While torture had abysmal success rates, it got at least something faster than any other method. "Allow me to take a different approach." Gabriel called out as he approached, Adrianna right behind him, "The way you're going might end up killing the captive before he talks."
Gwynne stopped what she was doing when she heard the other two approaching. The footman was left whimpering on the ground as the ice shards caused cases of frostbite around his injuries. Gwynne took a deep breath and gestured to the footman while looking at Gabriel. "Very well. What do you suggest?"
"A trade." Gabriel replied before turning to kneel before the whimpering footman. "I'm not gonna lie, boy. Your situation isn't looking too good right now. So, here's what I propose: you tell me what you know about this whole operation and you don't die a terribly painful death. We even got a fellow back there who could take a look at your wounds. Or you could keep what you're doing and...well, you can imagine what's gonna happen."

Gabriel terrified him slightly less. Maybe it was the vague similarities between a mercenary captain and his commanding officer. Former commanding officer at that, as he too was now among the mess of corpses. Maybe it was him not being the one driving icey nails into his flesh. His quivering breath had slowed just a shred, enough for the adrenaline high to begin to fade. With its departure came the throb of his injuries, his teeth gritting ever harder. He was so tense he could barely move his neck but he nodded feverishly to the proposal. Perhaps this one among them would at least show mercy and put him out of his misery.

"That's good". Gabriel smiled. "The first thing I want to know is how many more of you there are in the area, can you tell me that?"
He struggled to get words into his mouth. "I- I- Uh- ... Um- whole regiment, sss... south- southeast I think," he stammered out as fast as he could think, "D- D- Day and a half march from here!"
"And what about officers? Do you know who's in command of the operation?" Gabriel pressed on, ignoring his own growing discomfort at the news.
"I- I don't know! It never mattered... ummm.... no one special I know of. There was... there was a um ..." he rambled on trying to appease his captors, "Imperial Inquisitor! There was an imperial inquisitor ... the commander mentioned. Commander, commander hmm, Geisler. And the inquisitor ... what was his name? what was his name? c'mon ..."
"Would some water help jog your memory, boy?" Gabriel asked, as his black warhorse calmly approached the group.
He didn't fully hear what was asked of him next. His whole body felt heavy, the exhaustion taking its toll, and the edges of his vision were going fuzzy. "I ca- I can't feel... can't feel my hands ...." he sputtered, head writhing on the ground.
"Shit, he's fading," the hoarseness in Adi's voice was growing worse, as speaking became more painful for her, "I'm gonna... go get that wrelmsman girl who can help."
She turned and jogged off, careful not to overexert herself.

Gwynne stepped forward, "I can charge some aetheric energy into his body to keep him lucid for a bit longer. Though once it filters out, he won't be of much use to us afterward."
"Thank you." Gabriel said to Gwynne before turning back to the captive. "C'mon, boy. Just a name, you can do it!"
Gwynne waved her hand, commanding the orb to float just above the captive's weakening body. "Give him a charge, Topesh. Nothing much."
The legionnaire scoffed, "I'm astounded that you're so willing to give away your aetheric energy just to prolong this boy's suffering for a few extra minutes."
Gwynne rolled her eyes, "Do it Topesh..."
The orb didn't speak again. It started pulsating with energy, which eventually funnelled down to connect to the footman. The boy gasped as magical energy flowed into his body. It worked like a sort of adrenaline, heightening his senses and quickening his heartbeat. The energy would take a toll on his body, but it would serve the chosens' purposes in the short term.

The jolt got him awake again, his chest pumping rapidly with his panicked panting. Every fiber of his being burned from the shock, not even counting the ice nails still sunk into his soft tissues. "F-f-f-f-... v- v-... v- ... va- ... Valdi ... Valdi is-is- is-his name ..."
His head rolled sideways, barely able to maintain consciousness even with Topesh shocking him back from the brink.

---

Adi's jog didn't last more than about ten paces. She couldn't keep up the exertion both from exhaustion and her half-closed throat. She could yell just fine a moment ago but now she had nothing left. She tried to recall the other girl's name. They were only introduced briefly the night prior. "Fay, Fayvre!" she managed to grunt aloud, "they're interrogating our one captive ... but they're losing him fast ..."
She had no doubt she looked like shit, but she would live for the next few minutes. The prisoner very well might not.

Dorian, having found his fallen and forgotten pack and hammer back by the chaotic remains of the camp was busy washing his hands of the blood on his fists with a bit of water from his waterskin, he was idly listening to his fellows go about their own business after the attack. The Mercenary-looking man, Gabriel, had rounded up the Warrior-Monk Salvio and the Sorceress Gwynne to quickly interrogate one of the survivors they'd managed to catch without immediately killing him, those the responses didn't paint a pretty picture of the man's chances in Dorian's mind.

Flicking blood-tinted water droplets off of his hands, Dorian threw on his pack and hefted his pick-hammer over his shoulder, Vardun now chiming in with his thoughts on the matter.

"Wise move, if these men were the Emperor's, you'd best to make some kind of move now. Your companions are formidable, but not invincible, though. Less than a handful of seasoned warriors, a magician who doesn't full know how to control her powers, and a few former civilians who've hardly ever seen a weapon that wasn't a tool before can hardly stand to fight the Imperium's legions alone in the ruins of our failure. My comrades and mines' boons or no."

Dorian nodded to himself.

"I know, I'm thinking. Just give me a minute, we just survived our first major engagement together, gotta at least catch our brea-"

Vardun's ring tightened painfully on his hand, breaking Dorian off mid-sentence.

"Another lesson you've yet to learn, my pupil: Your enemies will not let you a moment's rest if they can avoid it. This is why they sought to kill all of you in your sleep. They would avert their doom before it can have the chance to come true, and will do anything to see it done. You and the others must come to know this if you want to live, let alone succeed."

Dorian clenched his fist, but the Titan was right, if they wanted to beat their enemies, they'd have to start thinking steps ahead of them, not merely reacting to their moves.

He glanced over at his fellows gathered around the fallen soldier . . . information could be good . . . the hoarse calls from the wounded Adrianna made him turn his head . . . but losing a good sword-arm, even if it would merely put her out of action for a while, could be deadly to their current situation, irrespective of any good or bad news they got out of the fallen soldier.

Dorian quickly strode his way over to the stumbling and wounded warrior-woman as fast as his stocky legs could carry him. He offered his left arm and called over more loudly, recalling their Wrelswoman's name from Adi's hoarse calls:

"Fay! Fuck the soldier! We can learn more later, Adi's not going to do us any good dying or passing out here! We gotta make ready to move!"