Once again returning from beyond the border was certainly a relief, though it did not prevent Vreta from remaining on-alert. If he had learned anything over the past half-hour, it was that this place was [i]never[/i] safe. His state of intense focus persisted for only a short time, until he was questioned by the soldiers. “Vreta’Sori.” He answered quickly and directly, not that his name would have much meaning to them. 

Vreta climbed off of the turret and into the back of the truck. He gave a look around at the soldiers crowded around in their seats. Some had escaped mostly unscathed, but there were others that looked rather badly wounded. The soldiers in his truck had been in a position to witness the help he had been giving them, and many he had personally pulled into the safety of the vehicle. They could be useful to him, he felt. He just needed to approach them with the right attitude. 

“Can one of you take over talking to those soldiers? We need to get your wounded out of here quickly if they are to survive this.” Vreta remarked before climbing down the side of the truck, then held his arms up to take the first of the wounded. “Help me unload the injured. We need to hurry.”