Cilia did what she was told, she was good at hiding and being small. Snow moved in a way that was like a well choreographed dance. She watched his muscles tighten as he prepared to fight. She moved back from the fight to stay out of the staff’s range.

She could smell the stench of death and the smoke of battle. It made her stomach churn and head ache. Emotionally, she was as charged as the air was filled with the sound. Yet she felt powerless and small.

As she moved back one of the dead things approached in a flanking maneuver. As it came in to attack her, she tried to retreat, while the dead warrior slashed. She threw the book as the sword flashed. It cut into the corner of the book and then into the muscle of her left arm. The momentum of the heavy book deflected the blade enough to keep it from her heart. As the book spun paper came out of the binding and floated in the wind. The heavy binding and most of the pages continued to spin hitting the creature first in the right eye with the cover, then spine hit where the nose should be and finally the back cover hit a cheek and bounced.

The attack did some damage to the creature, but she did not want to see if she killed it or not. She ran after Fergus holding her arm to stop the blood that flowed with each step.

Heavy footsteps thudded against the cobblestone as Axley led the pack through the streets of town, but she couldn't even hear them over the raining mortars and screams of the public. She could have sworn she could hear the occasional jeer of some sinister force as well, but she simply did not have time to even think about that possibility. Axley rounded a corner, looking to lead them down a narrow alleyway to take a quick shortcut, but came to a screeching halt as they were accosted by four armed warriors...one looking far more dangerous than the rest. Luckily, it seemed the female had absolutely no interest in them at all; granted, three trained foot soldiers was a bad bet for them regardless. Axley had almost no real combat training, and had rudimentary swordplay practice in her lessons in self-defense most bards decided to undergo. Everything else was learned on the fly, often to deal with hecklers or particularly drunk and randy pub-goers.

But this...this was far more real. Were she to fail here, she'd lose a lot more than dignity. Sparrow and Fergus seemed capable of handling their own, but the third soldier was more confident in the others, stepping to the two females with a particularly disconcerting leer in his eye. He went for Cilia first; Axley took the opportunity to slink around him in a flanking maneuver as he engaged her friend, silently thankful Cilia knew enough to distract the man and keep herself alive. She nearly cried out for her as she watched the blade cut into Cilia's flesh, but the flying book gave her just enough time to get behind the assailant while he was momentarily distracted by the pain of the heavy bound cover smacking into his face. It looked like it stung, but it wouldn't for long; she had to act fast.

An unexpected kick to the undead's back leg sent him to one knee as he tried to turn to deal with the new threat. Axley didn't give him the chance to recover; another kick, now to his back, put him on his hands and knees for the briefest of moments. Pure adrenaline kept Axley moving; in a single motion she strode forward, foot coming down hard on a leg to keep the soldier from rising before drawing her ceremonial blade. The warrior was not heavily armored, luckily; her blade, she knew, wouldn't be able to take many jarring shots, even though she'd had it sharpened for some form of combat. With a single heavy stab downwards, the blade skewered the undead's chest, uncleanly spattering blood over her bard's outfit as she had to forcibly yank the blade from the undead's body as it stuck fast. She didn't even know if she'd hit anything vital, or if an undead could shake it off and laugh before continuing the assault. She had to keep moving; the others had started to take off again and she'd be left behind if she dawdled. With a rush of adrenaline-fueled speed, Axley bolted back to the group, gasping for breath as she did her best to lead them once more. She had just taken her first 'life'...but her own was still on the line.

The foursome had somehow managed to fend off the undead. Not all of them were made dead again, but they were damaged enough that pursuit became impossible. Fergus was obviously thankful for that. Surviving alone was far less likely than surviving as a group. But they were not out of the woods yet. For that, they would have to escape the city. It was not far to the northwestern foothills, and Fergus knew their odds of being safe increased dramatically once the Imperial Ruins were behind them. "Hurry! Don't stop for ANYTHING!" It was a harsh thing to say. He wished he could stop and help everyone. But reality was often cruel, and not everyone would see the end of this day.

More strange necromantic shells landed around them, bringing with them more screams and deaths. More undead warriors attacked civilians, snuffing out their previously uneventful lives. More fires burned brightly as Cackling Harlot came closer and closer to the remnants of the Realm Defense Grid. But after around an hour of running for their lives, the four survivors from the church had reached the foothills that lie to the northwest of the place they had called home. Still, they ran. Another hour of adrenaline-fueled sprinting later, and Fergus could run no further. He all but collapsed against a large rock and gasped for air.

"I can't... go any... further..." Sweat rolled down his face and neck as he squeaked out the words between heavy breaths. The group had lost their last pursuers a few kilometers back, but more distance between them was not a bad thing. "What should we d-" he took a moment to fully catch his breath before continuing. "- what should we do now? The obvious call is heading to Lord's Crossing and informing the noble houses of the attack. But that's a long trek from here. What do you all think we should do in the immediate future? Fergus had ideas of his own, but felt obligated to listen to what his new friends had to say.

The rest of the scene was a blur. Snow was completely in a state of adrenaline after having dispatched the horror. The fact that they still moved despite sword slices, cracked skulls and other trauma. Of course they did. Just like on the threshold. The Realm had their methods for dealing with undead, but not people. Not civilians. This was an army raiding an unprotected village. The best, the very best he could hope for was staying alive with his three companions. He had to flee. Staying would mean a painful, ignoble death. Snow had to serve. It was his life. A deadman cant serve.

He felt his lungs explode, he felt his legs wobble, he felt the pains of past injuries and spasms. He always stopped to look back. He brought up the rear, he wouldnt let any of them out of his sight. If one fell back, he'd grab their arm, forcing them back. His words spurring them onward. Cillia and Axley, maybe it was a gentleman thing to do, but they were first. If a pursuer had an hour, let them pierce his back. Ferguson would be next. He'd take an arrow for him as well. The only man now who might be able to help them. Help the realm. He had connections. Snow had nothing now.

They stopped, all of them spent. It was wilderness where they were, looking back they could see the smoke and fire, and Snow could only look so long before he refused to look again. He fell to his knees, then his hands. He wanted to cry, he wanted to scream, his hands balled into fists. How useless he felt. He could only save three. That was pathetic to him. Was he a coward? His finger scratched the dirt as his sorrow went into smoldering fury, the fire in the pit of his stomach.

"Thats exactly where we need to go then." He concluded. "Even with the dead, a big army moves slowly. We can reach them, have them flee. Warn the interior. Let the Exalted know of what is coming." He looked to both of the women. "We have to. Even if we flee, find somewhere far, out of sight. If, If the dead take the Island, safety will be a thing of the past. Our fates will be sealed."

At they fled, Cilia was filled with emotions - Fear, Anger, despair, wonder, grief, and many others all at the same time. She could feel the pain in her arm throbbed as they ran. Each heart beat letting her know she was still alive. She was grateful that the bleeding had stopped. Not even realizing the wonder of how her body could heal itself. The swords and shells did not give her much time to think. She still not bleeding was a good sign at the moment, and she would take any hope she could fine.

As they were running through the city making their escape, Cilia kept her eyes open for things that were small and would be useful. She collected just small things that she could hold or tuck into her blouse. A hand axe dropped in the dirt from a tradesman. It was a weapon that she thought she could use. She claimed a dagger and water skin that was thrown when one of those evil shells exploded killing their owner. A wrap of jerky from outside a butcher’s shop, dropped by someone cut down by an undead warrior. If she would try to stop to grab something larger, Snow would push her on with words or step on what she was trying to grab to get her to move forward and away from the danger.

As Cilia did this, she felt conflicted, knowing that they needed the items and knowing they were not hers. In her mind, even the dead needed to be paid back. She would have to ask Ferris and Snow what would be appropriate to pay back to those whose things she had picked up. Living right now was what was important.

Towards the end of the run, Cilia worried that the Barrister might be struggling. He was in good shape, but running distances was not something that Barrister’s did often. When he stopped at the large rock, she was glad. Her breath was coming in pants and her feet, wound, and side were hurting. Running for any length of time takes a toll on the body. With big breaths between each word she answered his question in her own way, “Water, food,” she panted a couple breaths then continued, “salt, and hide for a bit.”

In her mind water was the most important thing they needed. They were hot and she had seen people die from sweating from fevers. She knew from experience that if they did not drink enough their leg muscles would start cramping and they would not be able to walk tomorrow. This also was common for people with the fever.

She held out the water skin for the others to drink from, hoping it was holding water, not oil or something worse. She would drink last as she wanted to drain the whole thing at that moment. Once she had drunk a bit of oil because of the hunger she had felt and she learned an important life lesson. The laxative action was intense and oil tastes awful. She wanted to die from the cramping the oil caused and from the teasing by the older street people. This made her think that they were all probably dead or as good as dead. She started to cry quietly for them, wiping the tears with the back of her hands. She tried to pass out strips of the jerky, cutting it with the knife into long thin slices. When she and her friends were breathing normally, she ate last and only a little. She was use to being hungry and she wanted to make sure the rations to last till they got to where ever Fergus wanted them to go.

Her body was telling her to find a cistern to find more clean water and to allow them to rest for a bit in the coolness. But she would stay with the group either way.

There was no need to command Axley to keep running; spending hours upon hours walking from place to place was not the ideal training for distance running, but it helped keep her at least moving. As she continued to weave through the slowly widening and separating roads as they approached the edge of town, Axley's calves began to scream at her, beg her for rest and remorse; they'd never had to work so hard in their entire lives, never had to be pushed beyond their limits as Axley was then. But she couldn't stop and give them rest. To give them rest would be to give her eternal rest. She found herself having to drag Cilia away from various dropped items almost as much as Snow was. Cilia was one of the few people she recognized that she knew for a fact hadn't been killed, vaporized, or worse, and she damn well refused to have that number shrink any further.

She just had to keep running. Running, running, running, until she couldn't go on, and then just keep running a little bit longer. She could have sworn they'd been sprinting for an hour or more, and still the cries of the undead echoed in the distance, the slamming of mystical mortars still heard as plain as day. She still didn't feel safe. The last time she'd lost her home, she'd run so far she nearly left the town itself in her desperation to escape her own demise...had she gone even further this time? She didn't even have time to think about that. Movement was the only thing that could fill her head and drive her actions, or she'd falter and be lost to the void.

Finally, at long last, Fergus' body gave out long enough for everyone to be forced to take a break. Axley's steps slowed, but did not stop as her exhausted body found it too much to even stop her movement; instead, her foot caught on a stone and her body sprawled against the grassy earth, the only noise for the longest time her lungs' greedy gasps of air. She felt she never needed to run ever again and she'd still be caught up on exercise for the rest of her life.

She barely heard the barrister's words and suggestions. It took a moment before her oxygen-deprived mind put the words and meanings together and understood what he was saying. "F...fuck that...." Axley spat what little moisture she still had in her mouth before taking another deep gulp of air. "We...gotta keep moving. I won't feel even...temporarily safe...until the Ruins are gone from the horizon." Axley put forth her defiance; it wasn't safe to change course yet. They still needed to look out for themselves. Even as she spoke Axley's worn body was forcing itself up again, her drive to live far greater than her own body's weakness.

The concensus seemed to be that the group should move on to Lord's Crossing. That said, they did need to catch their breath if they wanted to move forward. Cilia offered everyone something to drink and eat, so Fergus felt he should respond in kind. He took a couple swigs of the water and said "Thanks for that. Really hit the spot." before handing the waterskin to the next person in the group. Afterwards, he gave each person a handful of the bloodberry trail mix he kept with him at all times. "This should keep us going for a bit. Jerky and trail mix have kept a lot of travelers alive, right?" His tone of voice gave away that he had no idea and was just trying to keep morale up, but sometimes that did help.

All that aside, Fergus himself was visibly shaken. Where before he was confident and carried himself with an air of dignity; now he seemed nervous, unsure, and scared. Even as he got up to start walking again, his head hung low and he looked around several times before heading out. "Well then... let's get headed to Lord's Crossing. Better to start now than later, right?" His voice was shaky, but he was at least trying to keeo himself together. This war would be terrible, for sure. But if everyone fell apart, it would be much worse. In his mind, Fergus felt he NEEDED to stay composed. If even a representative of House Mnemon cracked under pressure, who could his new companions rely on for support when they reached the capital?



In the Imperial Ruins, the carnage seemed to be tapering off. While the fires still burned and the undead forces continued their assault, the shelling had ceased and the Juggernaut stood motionless in the distance. Cackling Harlot stood at the ruined gate of the Imperial Manse, a mixed expression of anger and joy on her face. She had been told to assume control of the Realm Defense Grid, but there was no way to immediately access it with the Manse still a crumbling mess. That pissed her off, as she couldn't fulfill her master's orders. However, she still had a secondary objective... and it was one she could complete very easily. Calling out to a duo of ghost-blooded escorts that accompanied her, she made a few motions and directed them to the top of a mound of rubble. They complied, climbed the mound, and retrieved something from a case that Cackling Harlot had handed them. What were they doing?



In his palace aboard the Juggernaut, Mask of Winters paced back and forth impatiently. He had heard the Imperial Manse was in ruins, but had incorrectly assumed it was "in ruins" much like the Imperial Ruins themselves. That is to say, damaged but serviceable. The Grid would not likely be easy to salvage. He would try, naturally... but that was no guarantee it would be in working order. For the time being, he would continue as planned. Issuing the go-ahead order to his trusted deathknight, Winters then gave another command to the cannon operators on Juggernaut's weapon emplacements.

The gunners fired one salvo into the air, and a quartet of yellow flares hung in the air in an arc over the Imperial Ruins. Another muted groan issued forth from the Juggernaut, and it began to slowly turn its back on the city and began to crawl back toward the coastline.

With a little whimper, Cilia trudged on with the group. As they walked she approached Fergus. From her body language that she was unsure about herself and wanted to ask him something important. Each time she would chicken out and fall back a little. She was afraid of what he might say. The internal conversation in her head, was fierce. Why did she care what a noble thought of her? When things calmed down, he would be in a fine house. She would be who knows where. Wasn’t survival more important then taking people’s stuff?

“I didn’t want to steal that stuff, but we needed it,” she said loudly. It gushed out of her as her mind was trying to reconcile what it was thinking. The thought was like a stone in her shoe, poking at her.

Butterflies danced in the air and landed on the wild flowers. She envied the simplicity of their dance. It lightened her heart to think that all life was not lost. Some even could dance on the breeze. So she followed on.

Snow was on his hands and knees for a while though eventually he did look back towards the smoke and the death. So far away. He pulled himself up and simply watched the smoke and the fire for a moment. He let the sweat fall from his face, his body screaming from the exertion, but pain was replaced with sorrow. A profound sadness that seemed to hit him and hit him hard. He sat up to a kneeling position. He closed his eyes, he felt his eyes water as he watched the carnage, now so far, too close. A bit of wind picked up the stray hairs from his face.

He closed his eyes. The Immaculates had words for those who have died, and indeed even monks do. Snow had said it many times on the Threshold, and he would say it again for each of his friends, the people he helped, those that had life until something awful had taken them. "Let go of this life. A greater one awaits. May you walk with the Dragons." It felt like... a lie now.

He whispered other Immaculate prayers, before Cilia interrupted him. The woman had taken steps to ensure their survival. He tunnel visioned before, seeing her stumble, but now she is holding other things. She did all this with barely a word, her actions and her eyes speaking volumes. He eyed her, a tear on his cheek that he wiped away. He forced a soft smile to her which quickly faded. He was so selfish! He thought he would have nothing to offer, save hopeless useless words. He gave a quick check to her, legs, torso, then his companions, Axley was nearly collapsed, Fergus pulling himself together. He sighed relieved before taking the skin and returning with a warm reassurng smile, though there was no reason too. "Thank you Cilia. I'm happy you're with us. You're more a survivor then I am. We'll need your skills." The water was luke warm, but it might as well come down from a glacier for how it felt. He accepted the jerky and berries as well.

When Cilia shouted. "Cilia has the right way of things. We are now fighting for our lives. If we find something useful. Let's take it. We'll warn the living, and borrow from the dead." He stood up when Fergus did, though his body ached, his breath short. "Food, water, and when we cannot see smoke, shelter. And, horses, wagons. Anything that could let us rest on the move. Thankfully I have my salt, and I have a healing kit." He tried to offer. "Of course, lets not get hurt so we wont have to use it." The salt was for any ghosts that the enemy may employ. He forced himself to the group and then offered Axley a hand-

And just then, there was a bellow echoing in the distance, and three lights in the sky. Its hard to guess... its hard to see but through shielded eyes a mountain was moving... and not towards them. "They.... they're going the opposite way?" His kingdom for a spy glass. He wanted to know more but the moment the group walked, so would he.

"... ve my leave to do as you see fit until then, but i STRONGLY suggest that you do not venture inland. In any case, that was exemplary work today, my dear. I will let you know when we have prepared for the next step." Mask of Winters shook his head after ceasing his communication with Cackling Harlot. He was growing tired of constantly praising her, but it seemed to ensure she always lived up to his expectations. He would continue to pat her on the back, though it was his opinion that a deathknight should not need praise to perform their duties. Regardless, he had now fired the first shot in this war to decide the fate of the Blessed Isle. No doubt the leaders of the Isle would try to answer with similar ferocity. It was time to show them that they had no chance of matching the military might he had amassed since the previous war.

Cackling Harlot was ecstatic, as she was every time her master praised her. She was leaving the Imperial Ruins as well, moving to the n. She may have free reign for now, but all she wished to do was to stick to the plan. And so she and the forces at her command would head to the next staging point ahead of Mask of Winters. This campaign MUST succeed." she thought as she pressed onward. Her thoughts then momentarily drifted to the losses that both sides would no doubt take throughout this... war. She hated calling it that, but that would be how it was remembered. Gritting her teeth at the thoughts and shaking her head a few times, Cackling Harlot steeled herself once again. This HAD to be done. Not just for the sake of her master, but for the sake of all that was left in the world.



Fergus initially handwaved Cilia's exclamation and said "It's not like I'm going to sue you. The dead don't pay me enough for that, you know?" in an attempt to defuse tensions with humor. But as time passed and the group moved further away from the city, he had the niggling feeling that his humor was neither well-timed nor welcome. They had just escaped a hellish situation, and he was cracking wise? Poor form, to say the least. While they trudged onward, the barrister's mind was occupied with thoughts of how to make it up to the group. His level of distraction got the better of him a few times. Stumbling over a tree root or rock, getting slapped in the face by a branch, and eating from the wrong pouch at his belt... and finding a small reddish-brown rock in his mouth rather than a handful of his snack mix.

Right. That damned rock. Every time he got rid of it, the thing came back somehow. No matter. The mishap did make Fergus chuckle and absent-mindedly say "Stupid rock. You must see something in me that I don't see in myself, huh? Otherwise you'd have scarpered ages ago." as he put it back in his pocket. He did have to admit that its presence was a small comfort, though. In a world that was once again on going to war, very little was certain. Yet some things continued on as if nothing was amiss. Even things as seemingly as insignificant as a little rock always coming back to a now nervous wreck of a Mnemon barrister.

Maybe the rock WAS lucky. Moments after Fergus finished his little chat with the inanimate object, the group happened upon a creek that flowed lazily along. It was not deep, but had no large trees nearby to impede visibility at its banks, and a steep cliff to the south that would impede attacks from that direction. All in all, a fairly secure place to rest and mend their bodies for a few hours. By now, they were a good distance from the city... so pursuit had likely tapered off. Especially if Snow had been right about seeing the Juggernaut moving away from the city and toward the sea once more. While he had no clue why that would be the case, Fergus decided to take it as a blessing. Maybe the Deathlord's army had overtaxed itself and was falling back? If so, that would give them even more time to alert the leaders in Lord's Crossing.

If only that were the case...



The sun was setting behind the hillside to the west of the camp when it happened. Fergus was tending the small fire they had lit to ward off the chill of the approaching night. He might even have said it was a tranquil and beautiful evening, had the morning and afternoon not been so terrible and violent. But the horrors visited upon the Imperial City were not done. Barely visible now was the outskirts of the Imperial Ruins, but what now befell the city was plain to see. No. In fact, the sunset almost seemed to HIGHLIGHT it. A strange purple-black dome seemed to appear in the city. It grew... and grew.., and grew. Initially, Fergus watched it silently as if he were hypnotized. As its edge crept closer and closer to their makeshift camp, though? That was when he snapped out of it and simply fell to his knees to meet what he expected was the end.

The sound of the apparent explosion now reached their camp. It was not typical, however. It was deafeningly loud and simultaneously barely perceptible. A sound just on the edge of hearing, yet one that was impossible to ignore. Cries of agony. Pleas of mercy. Tears of anguish. The sound was all of these things, yet none of them.

Just as quickly as the dome appeared, its growth ceased. Seconds later, the sickly thing had dissipated almost entirely; leaving a strange purple hue on the visible horizon that complimented the colors of the evening sky in a hauntingly beautiful way.

Fergus rose to his feet, unsure of what he had just witnessed. Chances were good that he shared that confusion with the others, but he had to ask, even if it was to no one in particular. "By all the dragons... what was that?" He knew only three things about it for certain. One: That it could not be good, if the sound it made was anything to go by. Two: That it was probably something he could blame on the Juggernaut and its masters. Three: It was something he would never forget.

Axley was finding conversation quite difficult in that moment. Her body protested her refusal to rest; even her mind was telling her to at least sit down, if not pass out entirely, but she found herself unable to acquiesce; adrenaline still rushed through her body, willing her to remain standing, to keep moving lest something decide to chase them regardless. They hadn't seen any pursuers for miles, yet she still didn't feel safe. Something was still wrong, beyond the sudden assault on her town for seemingly no reason. If it was just a raid of the undead...why? What motive could there have possibly been in such aimless, mass slaughter? Axley's brain hurt just trying to think about the possibilities. Even as they rested, the strange behemoth was moving once more, activity still taking place. She found it hard to tear her gaze away, even as food and drink was passed around.

To both, Axley waited until everyone else had had some before taking her own. Part of that dated back to her teachings on etiquette back with her family, but more was concern that everyone else would be able to manage to keep going. Even as Cilia mentioned her unwillingness to filch the supplies she had, Axley shook her head. "It's not like they're going to be needing it anymore...I doubt anyone left would be particularly inclined or qualified to press charges. Not that we'd be able to tell whose those were anyways." Axley tried to be helpful and reassuring, but even she was finding it hard to remain cheerful...and she made money based on acting that way.

Their movements had slowed considerably, enough for Axley's adrenaline to wear off and her body to regret the hours of sprinting it had just done. Her entire being screamed for rest and sleep, for a day's time if not more. That time was luckily drawing near, as they had broken for camp and even lit a small fire to keep them warm as the sun receded beyond the horizon. Axley was struggling to keep her eyes open as she stared into the flickering flames, contemplating the events that had led to this moment. Somehow, she had managed to make it this far with people she knew, people she cared about...and that Fergus fellow. In most other circumstances, she'd still resent him for being the messenger of destroying Snow's place of business and nearly his livelihood, but...she couldn't fault him for anything that had just happened. Even had he not arrived, the outcome would have been about the same.

She was about to walk over to apologize to the barrister when activity on the horizon of the ruined city caught her attention. Axley rose from her seat to catch sight of the growing, dark energy that was fast expanding to reach the city limits, even drawing near to their location. "What in the...?" Axley could only stop and stare as the radius drew closer; she took a few steps forward, hypnotized by imminent, pointless demise, only for the oncoming death to cease movement, and disappear with a strangely profound explosion that wrenched at the bard's heart in a way she'd not felt since the loss of her family and her home. Somehow...she knew things would never return to normal at the Imperial Ruins. In fact, something deep in her gut told her the Imperial Ruins were gone. Everything she'd built up over the last two years in an attempt to salvage her own existence...

"Sparrow, do you...um..." Axley wasn't sure what she wanted to say. That everyone was dead? That they could never go back? "...nevermind." Her voice was hushed and distant as she stared into the haze, wishing to see something but knowing in the pit of her gut that nothing would come from that place ever again. They and they alone had been spared...and to what end...?

Cilia moved away from the group and flopped down leaning against a large rock near the water. She closed her eyes for a few moments, mostly to hide the tears. She wasn’t sure what to do with Fergus’ and Axley’s comments. The humor had a bit sarcasm to it, so she flinched away.

As she sat there, she rubbed her sore feet and watched the water spiders dancing across the surface of the river and the tadpoles darting away from the fish. She unbound her hair and let it fall loose around her shoulders and back. Then balled up while sitting, put her head down on her knees so no one else would see the tears. Her body and soul hurt. Even being use to spending her days moving, this had taxed her greatly.

When the explosion came, she looked at the others expressions. There was horror there. Then she turned to see the purple-black dome spreading out. They had all lost and left much behind. It was gone now. She hoped others had run and escaped the city as well. But the force and speed of the attack gave her the impression that luck, the dragons, or some divine force had helped them more than skill. In her heart, she did not want to know what happened to the city. Even worst she was not sure that she ever wanted to go back unless she had too.

When the dust settled, she decided to take the hand axe and try to find wood to keep the fire going tonight. Keeping her thoughts closed inside herself. She thought that maybe making her arms as tired as her legs would help her sleep.

The fire was important as she knew that there were going to be wild animals on the move too. That army with all the noise and the smell of death would displaced most animals. The fire was about the only thing that would keep them away. Raccoons, wolves, bears would not be scared by a small fire. Porcupines and skunks would not even give the fire a second thought and either of them would make for a very unpleasant few days. The smell of food, even the jerky would bring them in. Their eyesight isn’t great which made sleepers vulnerable to their wrath if spooked.

Cilia stayed within shouting distance on both sides of the river, bringing wood back to chop it with the hand axe. She would let others help and she did not really try to avoid the group. She just needed to work through things.

Snow had continued, trying to focus on the here an now. Trying to offer some semblance of support and calm to his team. When they stopped, though his body ached and was sore, he found the drive to move by looking at them. Three survivors, three now good deep friends to him. He helped Cilia with collected water, branches, firewood, he began to cook what was available and was suggesting atleast some music in honor of those lost, but then something happened to draw the eye.

The dome. That magic. It brought back flashes to his time in the threshold. He thought he would never see it again. Well, he thought he wouldn't see alot of things again. This was enough, this was enough for his eyes to go wide, his hands to tremble, before putting them over his mouth to stiffle a scream of abject horror. By the Dragons. A Soul Breaker Orb. A weapon of such mindless senseless destruction it poisoned the land. The enemy... and us. They used them. And now the blessed island might be stained forever. This was it. The enemy was on their door step and they were salting the earth where stood. The tears streamed down his face. He couldn't hold it anymore. This was a final gut punch to everything. Something in him broke.

He honestly didn't know why he was surprised. Of course they would. of course, they were undead monsters seeking to spread misery and end everything. The selfishness. The unabashed diabolical audacity. His eyes went to the ground, he held his chest and he let out a long languished heart rending scream."GRRRRAAAAAAAHHH!!!" It echoed out into the wilderness, a cry from a man who kept his emotions and feelings bottled up to keep a smiling positive face. He didn't cry for his dead friends, his flock that he couldnt protect. He cried out for all creation. Despite everything he did. His whole life to make Creation better. It was going to end. End in the face of monsters. Monsters too strong for him to even touch. It wasn't fair.

Creation was going to die and there was nothing he could do about it.

"You're here to serve."

He heard his master's voice. Back in the days of the monastery. His tear strained eyes went wide as he looked at the ground. He's been like this before.

"Get up. I need you."

He heard the voice of the Solar general who offered him a hand for him to join him in a desperate push.

Snow survived. Snow, who hated fighting had always fought and always survived. He always served. The Order. The General. The people. He was still alive. He survived. He still had to serve.

His hands balled into fists, Axley's words fell on deaf ears as he was in his moment of anguish and self reflection.
Calm Snow, gentle Snow, smiling Snow, grinded his teeth. "I'll... kill them." He swore to himself.

Of all the people to seemingly break today, Fergus did not expect it to be Snow. One of the girls, for sure. But a monk who had witnessed war before? The thought hadn't even crossed his mind. He wanted to say something, but the words were stuck in his throat and refused to come out. Instead, he walked over to Snow and put a hand on his shoulder. A hand and a sympathetic look was all he could manage before moving back to the fire and taking a seat. It almost seemed like he was looking past the fire, though. Chances were good that Snow would recognize the thousand-yard stare of someone who had no real clue how to process what had just happened. Whatever that magic was; it was enough to shake the monk to his core. Fergus was going to try and figure out what it had been. His expensive schooling had taught him a lot, but that was some time ago and he would be lucky to recall much of it at this point.

Beyond their little camp, the world had fallen deathly silent. Birds did not chirp, squirrels and other forest creatures ceased their chatter, and even bugs seemed to stop moving about and doing as they do. This eerie quiet further added to Fergus' difficulty in both processing today's events, as well as his efforts to figure out what that magic had been. All he was coming up with was "Some crazy powerful deathlord magic.", and that wasn't much help at all. He could always say that someone in Lord's Crossing would know, but that would be redundant. They were heading there anyway. Truly, Fergus was just as lost as the rest of them at this point. It was not the most comfortable feeling for someone so used to being in control, to say the least.

The only real comfort was the crackling of the fire and the warmth it provided. It wasn't all that cold, but the heat did bring a small amount of joy after the horrible experiences of this day. In a world that was likely about to be embroiled in another huge war, small comforts could make or break a person. Gritting his teeth, Fergus continued to wrack his brain as he watched the fire. Nothing came to mind. Rather than piss himself off in addition to being a wreck after fleeing the city, he decided to lie down on the rocks near the fire. Better to at least TRY to relax, right?

Perhaps one of the gods in Yu-Shan wanted to lighten the mood. Maybe Fergus himself subconsciously hoped to make the others happy. Possibly, it was just coincidence. An audible CRACK rang out through the camp as Fergus layed down a little too quickly and smacked his head on the rock he layed on. He wasn't badly hurt, thankfully. However he DID burst out into a tantrum of swearing.

"First the magistrates make me evict a damn church! Then the sodding undead ruin my city! Then they bloody vaporize everything with gods know what! And now I nearly give myself a fucking concussion?! What's next?! Is the five-metal shrike going to fly overhead and shit a rainbow made of jade scrip, orichalcum, and seafood chutney?! Son of a whore, I'm one-hundred and ten percent done with this day!" In his frustration, Fergus hurled his lucky rock over the cliff. "And NOW I've hurled my goddamn lucky rock, like a spoiled child whose been told 'no' by their parents! Fuck!"

He knew it would be back after a short time, but he was just venting his feelings after this awful day. It was likely that the others shared his general frustration, given they had been through the same things. Each of them handled it differently, and Fergus was just the one openly complaining.

As she brought in another arm full of wood, she placed it by the fire.
The thunk of a melon hitting the stone and then the swearing, made Cilia giggle a little. It wasn't that she found it funny, well she did a little. But it expressed most effectively the best description of the day. It was a rich person swearing, not quite as vulgar as what she was use to. No one was doing things to sheep or goats or cats.

"Let me look at your head," she said to Fergus as she came close to him. In a tone that indicated this was an order and not a option and staring off his masculine pride protests. She made sure he was okay then she sat down in a way that he could use her lap as a pillow if he wanted. She was alone in a new way. A way she had never known. She needed contact from another living being. She motion to Axley that she could use her as a pillow too, if she wanted. She started to hum, as is the way of women.

The loss of things wasn't pleasing to her. She thought about the loss of the shopkeep that chased her away with a broom in the morning, but left her food when he closed the shop. The wash women that would "loose" some clothing when the seasons were changing to keep her warm. The healer that would send her to pick things when she or the dogs were sick. She thought of the baker that would have her help in the coldest parts of winter so she could sleep near a hearth. She even missed the trader that always said the stuff she found was worthless and placed it in his shop window for ten times what he paid her. She missed the boys that Snow had teaching to watch over the neighborhood, the ones that always let Snow know when she or one of the other girls were in trouble. She really missed sitting in the class with the children as they were learning their letters and listening to stories. She missed her stray dogs. They were all gone and so was her tears.

Magics, the undead, machines that fired shells like they experienced were just stories parents told their children to get them to behave and to keep them away from girls like her. They weren't real and now they were.

Cilia crushed some wild lavender and mint to keep the bugs away. Then she undid the braids of her long hair and rubbed the oils into it to protect them from the flying insects.

Axley wasn't sure if she should feel bad that she didn't feel as badly as perhaps she ought to for the destruction of the Imperial Ruins. Yes, it had been her home, but...it hadn't been her home that long. She had only just begun to truly live her life once again after having it taken away from her in similar, if not quite so flashy, fashion. Now it was all gone a second time. In spite of the terrible case of deja vu she was getting, Axley felt...hollow. She had seen it all before. Innocent people losing their lives for relatively no reason, homes and gardens and more being pillaged and destroyed just for the sake of watching it burn. Deep down, she felt jealous of those who had perished. At least they didn't have to endure the anguish of witnessing not simply their own, but everyone's demise.

Someone HAD broken, however. From the ear-splitting cry, she had briefly believed it to be Fergus, but finding Sparrow to be the one shrieking to the heavens was not what she had expected to greet her. She overheard his promise spoken beneath his breath, if only just. A concerned look grew on the bard's face; she had spent her entire life only caring about herself and what made her a success. When she had had it all ripped from her, she had expected ridicule and shunning wherever she had gone. But Sparrow had taken her in in her hour of need, gotten her situated and on the right path once more...all without asking for a penny out of pocket. Axley had learned so much from him about compassion for others and the ability to have a heart for those around her. She wasn't well-versed in it yet, but she could see an opportunity to make amends for her selfishness in the past when it arose. Even as she made up her mind to console one man, the other broke as well. She couldn't say she knew Fergus as well as Snow, but the barrister was likely the most well-off of the four of them. It wouldn't have surprised her in the least if he hadn't seen a moment of hardship in his life before; he probably didn't have the faintest idea what to make of the situation. Granted, neither did they; but at least they'd either suffered or seen so much suffering that they knew what it was like. Thankfully, Cilia was seeing to him, which eased her mind enough to focus on her own friend.

She slowly turned away from the destruction behind her, finding it easier to focus when the horizon of death was not directly in front of her, and approached the man who'd given so much of his life to others. A gentle hand rested on his shoulder as she witnessed his pained anguish up close, understood more clearly his oath of vengeance. Axley shook her head and lifted the man's chin, forcing him to look her in the eye. "You would sooner wish suicide upon yourself than succeed in that goal. You saw those monsters. We were barely able to subdue just a few of them. If we were to fight their whole army, even with the four of us..." Axley closed her eyes for a moment, letting the truth of her words sink in. "I know I can't speak for your entire flock, but..." Axley knew what she wanted to say, but wasn't sure exactly how to say it. After a moment, she gave up trying and just let the words flow. "They would want you to carry on your duty. Whoever needs help...they would want you to extend your endless generosity to them. And right now, we need you to stay with us. We will need your strength this time more than your kindness but...we would surely be lost if you were not here with us." A gentle smile from the bard as she allowed herself to draw close. "No more talk of revenge. Not until we make sure we wouldn't die trying. I'd lose it if you fell now."

And just as his heart filled with rage, kneeling in the cold ground. A gentle hand reached into the fire and pulled him from it.

He felt two hands and he looked to one, Fergus. He said nothing. The man only giving the faintest barest act of true sympathies. It was enough to remind him that he wasn't alone. Remind him that his feeling an actions still had effect on people. It reminded him that he wasn't allowed to be angry. Or despair. He wasn't allowed to act like a human. Those creatures had attachments and emotions. He had to be a pillar of strength. His life wasn't his own. His thoughts, feelings, body, soul. You dont own those things. You don't get to feel. They belong to others. You serve them you selfish coward. It hurt as much as it was right. His heart began to harden again.

Another hand then rested on his shoulder. Axley was looking down upon him. Her face soft, her eyes stern. Concern and drive there. She was stronger then he was. How pathetic. She spoke of him leading them into battle. His face tightened. No. Never. Not them. He should die. Not them. He would protect them. She then said it was what they wanted and this was enough to remind him what the voices had. To give everything. Live to give. She smiled at him, he looked away. He felt ashamed. A moment of weakness. You don't get to feel. But he was. He felt sad, angry, and now grateful. He raised a sleeve and wiped his reddening eyes, looking slightly better then before.

He smiled back his little grin. "I'm sorry... I'm alright now." He took a moment looking up into her face and then closed his eyes, took a deep breath before getting to his feet. "Thank you Axley. I was in a dark place for a second. Though I have to apologize again. I need to do something." Before saying anything further. His arms went around her shoulders and his head ducked low to rest in her mane. It was a fast moment, merely a quick embrace, but for him, it meant the world. A moment of selfish comfort to hold something warm, feel safe if even for a few seconds. As quickly as it started, he released her and stepped back. He gave her a soft smile.

Thats when Fergus had his own little outburst. Throwing a temper tantrum and screaming profanities out to the world about how unfair it all was. There was no reason to laugh. No reason to smile and yet, Snow lunged on the opportunity. He sputtered a bit before covering his mouth, a soft chuckle on his lips. Cillia was already seeing to him. She proved stronger too. "What an awful example we're setting Master Fergus. Neither of us can keep a cool head and as typical it takes a woman take make everything right again. Honestly we are fortunate."

Snow now sat with them, his team of survivors. His friends. He apologized again for a momentary lapse in sanity before doing things like offering to play music or attempt to atleast improve the mood either in reminiscence or coordinating with the plan. A night to rest, and then a days walk. They'd need to sleep in shifts... who knows what monsters were marching now.

Cilia checked Fergus's head after his little tirade, finding a little cut, but not much else. She seemed fairly concerned, but Fergus decided against any sort of treatment. He'd done it to himself, and felt he needed to tough it out as a bit of a reminder to not be stupid. While he was being checked up on by one of the girls, it seemed like Snow was receiving similar treatment from the other. Thinking to himself "Boy, we sure are shining examples of tough manly men...", Fergus soon found his thoughts mirrored by Snow outright chastising both of their actions a bit. He wasn't wrong, of course.

"I can't really argue that, my friend. And now that I think of it, I don't think I got any of your names throughout this unbelievable day. I clearly gave mine, but I do not recall any of yours.if you gave them at any point, I apologize. Recent events have left my mind a bit... well, I've been focused on other things." Surely the others would give their names and exchange basic pleasantries for a while. Better to focus on that than to keep their attention on the tragedy they had barely avoided becoming a part of. They would no doubt have to confront what happened eventually, but now was not that time.

After a short time passed, Fergus spoke up once more. "So now I know your names, but I know nothing about who you are. I'll share a bit since I brought it up. I'm a barrister, as you know. A lawyer, of sorts. I grew up in Lord's Crossing, and am legally part of House Mnemon despite not having the family name. No exalts in my immediate family, but a few cousins and great aunts/uncles in the past have done so. I moved to the Ruins after a bit of family drama, and had called it home for a few years. And now, well... I guess I had to go back to Lord's Crossing someday. Just wish it had not been for this sort of reason, you know?" He had been planning on going back in a year or two, once he was sure things had calmed down, but now he had little choice in the matter.

It was at this point that Fergus realized how tired he was. While he would happily listen to the stories told by the others, he would do do while laying back against the rocks and staring into the night sky. "I'm listening. Don't mind me. Please, continue." It wouldn't be long before he was asleep. Unfortunately for him, he was also unfamiliar with the concept of sleeping in shifts. He'd be a bit grumpy when he woke up, but would agree to take his shift of being awake to watch out for everyone.

Hopefully the night would be uneventful.

Cilia listened to Fergus intently. She undid the braids of her hair and started to finger comb it. It would take a while, but she was hoping not to go anywhere for a while. It was hard for her but she opened her mouth and spoke.
"I am Cilia," she said not giving her last name as it had been a long time since she had heard anyone speak it.
"I was born in a small village on the coast. Due to some ill fortune, I ended up living on the streets of the Ruins, scavenging for food and things to survive," her tone was matter of fact and it was clear that she was leaving out details probably due to shame.
Thinking hard about what to say, she tells them what she thinks is important about herself, "I have a tendency to pick up stray animals and people and care for them. I can be a bit of a mother hen at times, tending to people," Looking a Fergus and his reaction to her attempting to comfort and care for him, as this explained everything.
"I like to watch people and learn things," she said.
"Right now, I wish I had my pack of dogs. There is a hatch of rabbits we could hunt. The rabbits are big enough to feed us," she said pointing in a direction, "blankets, a warm bath, and a comb would be nice too." She left out the soft bed, good food, a roof over her head. As she rubbed her dirty feet she said, "And soft leather boots."
After a moment she said, "I am grateful to have all of you. I would have run to mine and probably be dead if it wasn't for all of you."

She listened to the others and wondered about setting a watch as she knew after running like they did. She knew she could not stay up all night.

(ooc: 6)

He sat crossed legged in the camp listening as Fergus asked a general question to the group. Names, who they were. Snow didn;t need to know anything more then their own hearts and bravery, but- but it was something innocent and pure. Something that would pass the times in a few moments of peace. It would be something nice and pure. A welcome distraction.

"Please. I have to remind myself of names through the morning." He listened, discovering more and more about their benefactor. He gathered as much, though there was always more depths to everyone. Always something deeper. "Another fortutous turn of fate. Your family has the power to do some real good."

He looked over to Cilia, her words and care. She was a survivor. She was in her words, a mother. Compassion and strength. "I actually had no idea you were so gifted. You should be teaching rangers and scouts Cilia. A the madame of a hunters lodge on the Sword Coast eating salted mutton and white peaches." He wanted to chuckle, his mind that she would an excellent soldier, but wanting none of that life for her. This was enough violece for ten lifetimes.

He looked into the flames and noticed they were starting to dwindle. He took a stick and poked it. Causing the embers to reflare. "Its moments like this that I have to look at the stars and wonder if destiny is true or not." They all seem to bring something to the table. Something to allow the others to survive. He wanted a moment or two, just watching the sparks raise.

"Suppose its my turn then." He went to his knees, sitting as if it were a tea ceremony. "My name was simply Snow. Named for my skin tone I suppose." He chuckled. "Sparrow was given by the Immaculate Order. Snow Sparrow. Simple. I joined when I was very young and, well monks are supposed to forgo wordly attachments. Family being one." He quickly changed gears. "With the monks, I learned everything. How to read. Fight. Talk to spirits. Preaching for hours and hours on end. How to annoy priests of other gods. How to keep my head bald." He said to lighten the mood.

He tried to remember the times afterwards. None of it was pleasant. None of it was good. "When the undead appeared on the threshold... thats where I went. Anyone that knew how to excorcise and banish ghosts." He glossed over it all. "Its hard to keep to the Texts when you're in battles like that. I was done with others telling me where I should be. How I should help. So I left the order upon my return and went to where I'm needed most. The Ruins. Ready to spend the rest of my days doing what I can. Was kind of hoping things were going to stay boring." He didn't want to dwell. Didn't want to bring back the negative things when they just found a moments peace together.