Fenna lay in the grass, rain fallow down on her. Shallow breaths escaped her lips as she tried to work through the pain of her open wounds. She turned her head to see first Clive and then Zell move in with their attacks. "Good job," she whispered to Zell when Zigmund died, even though she knew he was out of ear-shot.

It wasn't long before Barracker helped her up and assister her towards the temple entrance. Pierced three times, but the spikes had been thin, the wounds they had caused weren't an immediate thread but would need treatment. The blood leaking out the six wounds mixed with the rain and travelled down her armour.

Fenna grinned weakly at Barrackers comment. Pre-rain she had been able to land some good hits, but post-rain she had done nothing more than take the role of distraction, which thankfully had paid off. "I take pride in the fact he hated me enough that he wanted to make me suffer," she admitted. "That means he considered me one of the bigger nuisances at least. I'm glad he's dead."

With a groan she got down on the ground when they reached the camp and tried to determine what needed to happen with her wounds. It would need some bandaging for sure. Where were her supplies? Sil landed next to her with the spear she had picked up, while Fenna slowly removed her leather armour. Fenna leaned back in a half-sitting/half-lying position, moving hurt and the slow but continous bloodloss made her tired. Sil watched her and after a moment she went to a nearby leaf, picked it up and tried to put it on one of the lower wounds. "Thanks, darling," Fenna whispered, although it did nothing to stop the bleeding.

She found some bandages to wrap around her torso, but with her injured shoulder she couldn't do it alone. Thankfully she got the assistance she needed. She turned her face to MacKensie and managed a faint smile when she pointed out her shoulder. Out of the three wounds, that was the one that one caused the most discomfort in both pain and hindring her movement. Her first instict was to downplay it, but there was no reason for it. "Yes, I need a hospital," she sighed.

When her wounds were provisionally treated, Fenna lay down to rest. Sil remained close to her and eyed everyone who dared coming close suspiciously. Fenna listened to MacKensie questioning Clive and turned her head so she could watch them.

A pool of muddied crimson spread upon the wet ground where the body lay, lifeless bloody and mangled without a head - Clive slumped to the ground on his knees, his bare chest heaving shivering in the rain as he held his arms close.

'He..He's dead...We...' the legs of his pants stained with the blood of the dead man he had fell to his knees before, his breast rising and falling breathing ragged gasps in vain to pace his heart as it beat against his chest - thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump... his russet hair damp from the downpour shrouded his face, which was a mixture of disbelief and relief.

"We..We did it!" the farmhand uttered, trying to catch his breath and calm his rapidly beating heart, Clive breathed in and out, in the end he hadn't done nothing but he made Zigmund pay for all he did...

"Clive, Barracker," MacKenzie called to them, the least hurt of everyone. "Please, help Fenna... and Adam..." she looked around and saw that the ruined temple entrance had crumbled into such a way that there was a shelter - an alcove of sorts - big enough for all of them to wait out the rain and wait for the village of Cherrad to come with medicine. "...that shelter, there."

“On your feet, soldier,” he said warmly. Then looked at Sil wherever she was, and told the falcon. “She is going to be fine.” Then as they walked a pace manageable for Fenna, Barracker mentioned to his comrade in arms. “You caused Zigmund quite a bit of trouble with that spear of yours.”

Barracker taking their injured companion up, helping Fenna to her feet made the southerner smile "Darn tootin' you both fought well." Though he wasn't too badly injured Clive's body was a patchwork of bruises, cuts and with no shirt to shield him from the elements the rain and wind bit him with a cold in his aching joints.

Still the farmer grunted struggling to his feet giving Zigmund's lifeless body one last look before saying "I ain't sure who you are but I'd be deader than a doornail without that dang shield of yours." Clive gave the pale stranger named Barracker a light clap on the shoulder.

He didn't say anything to Fenna, though the look he gave her said enough behind his shaggy mess of hair were a set of worried eyes but also the same warm he always had. Clive, put on a brave face to mask his worry for the allies he solemnly vowed to protect and following the fight his mind was filled with doubts.

Once all was said and done, the group took shelter in the old ruins away from the relentless rain that poured from the heaven's like angels tears Clive laid against a cold stone wall he looked almost tired, rubbing his aching shoulder watching everyone go about. Zell, that roguish bastard definitely made a gamble in what he did, so did James who sat a bit aways looking withdrawn meanwhile Adam made sure everyone was looked after then MacKenzie approached him.

"Clive," she began, her tone replicating the surprise she felt when he'd first appeared on his ethereal steed. Unsure quite how to word it, she just did her best; "How are you here? You were..." She shook her head, mystified. "What happened?"

Grunting the farmer slowly rose to his feet, he looked no worse for wear other than the bruises and cuts covering his body like a patchwork of knicks and scratches all over his chest and upper body, his hair was a mess and he had a tired look in his eyes but still the same old smile on his face.

"What kinda gosh darn greetin' is that?" Clive straightening up twinged slightly feeling a pain in his back he hissed "Ooh, that's smarts..." he leaned back against a wall and looked at his friend dropping his candor he answered MacKenzie best he could with a sigh he explained he awoke somewhere in the hills where a group of robed figures surrounded him they had wanted to take him somewhere, where? He hadn't cared, because something called to him the winds cried and echoed and he fled leaving them.

"Didn't quite understand how or why them strangers gave me life but I swore I'd do all in my power to protect you all, a right good job I did." the southerner looked down shaking his head with a sigh.

He was given a second chance, and yet he wasn't strong enough to kill Zigmund let alone protect them from him, he tried to shake these thoughts instead focusing on the positives taking a deep breath "No use moping about it...I'm just glad ya'll are alright." a warm smile returned to his face, he laughed loud and hard finally relaxing both washed by a wave of fatigue and relief once more that everything was going to be okay.

Zell couldn't kneel properly, so he subconciously ended up sitting down next to James as his eyes went from the Cleric's wounds to the Cleric's eyes, to the Cleric's wounds to the Cleric's eyes.

The pain pulsing in his left leg couldn't supercede his worry. Nor could the rain. Nor could the voice of the randomer who appeared at the top of the steps and promised to go get help from the village. In fact; not even James' nasty stab wounds could take Zell's full attention. There was something wrong with his best friend. James was so far in his own head, he didn't even seem to notice that Zell was sat right there. The Englishman rubbed his mouth, his eyebrows knitted together in an emotion somewhere between concern and fear, his instincts screaming that this was not normal.

"Bro?" he said quietly. No answer.

"Is everyone okay?"

Zell turned his head partway toward Adam, but his eyes remained on James. He opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out - he wasn't sure what to say - however, MacKensie spoke up.

"No," That word managed to get Zell out of his trance of worry - Damn. Who else is hurt? - and when he saw her coming over, he slowly managed to stand, wobbling as he tried to keep his weight off his left foot. "Clive, Barracker... Please, help Fenna... and Adam..."

Zell tried to help with James but MacKensie was handling it perfectly fine without him. Once James was up, Zell left MacKensie to it, looking around to see that Barracker had Fenna covered and Clive was following them to the shelter. Zell filled in the gaps and went to give Adam a hand. As Zell limped over, he could see the the Druid had already been patched up during the battle. James' handiwork, Zell guessed. He offered a hand to the younger man and, once it was taken, he put all his weight on his good foot and pulled Adam up to his feet.

"You look rough as a bear's arse, mate;" an old English saying that fit rather well after Adam's previous show of shapeshifting power. Zell laughed through his fatigue, trying to tease at least a smile out of his comrade as he snuck an arm under Adam's and put a stablizing hand on the Druid's back as they walked, making sure he made it to the shelter without falling to any dizzy spells or anything. Adam looked like he'd been in a 12-rounder with Mike Tyson. "Bloody good stuff, out there, mate. You were a force to be reckoned with."

He gave Adam a pat on the back as they reached the shelter, then went around and gave a show of comradery to everyone, individually. "Nice fighting out there... good job, mate... you too, Sil... well played... well played... nice one."

He was about to ease himself into a seat, but when MacKensie started on Clive, he paused and looked at the dead man walking. "Jeez! Yeah, what the hell?" he joined in, rubbing the back of his head with a laugh. He was so fatigued he'd almost forgot that Clive had just casually slipped back into the fold. Clive's explanation was sparse. It raised quite a few questions too. Robed figures? It seemed they were being tracked all over the place. Zigmund proved they were being chased down from the moment they landed in this world. The Tin Can had also proved that they could be tracked. Easily too. Within twenty-four hours of leaving Hommas. Within twenty-four hours of leaving Valhiem. Not good. MacKensie and Joji had buried Clive on a random hill, but even his grave had been gotten to.

Zigmund's dead now. Who will be next?

"Didn't quite understand how or why them strangers gave me life but I swore I'd do all in my power to protect you all, a right good job I did." the southerner looked down shaking his head with a sigh.

Zell looked suspiciously at his Source Crystal, once more remembering the voice of Lucy Bottrill explaining about Source Codes and Source Crystals. What the hell is going on here!? a thought raged as he closed his fist. So many questions. It was hard to even out his temper with all the pain and exhaustion, but he managed it. One thing at a time, lad. We patch up. Maybe get some actual undisturbed rest. Hopefully James has snapped out of it by then. Then we hit Valhiem. Hospital. Guildhouse. Source Comm. At least a few answers, surely. Maybe have time for a couple of beers. Calm down, Zell.

"No use moping about it...I'm just glad ya'll are alright." a warm smile returned to Clive's face, he laughed loud and Zell used the positive energy to force a jolly demeanour.

"Ha!" He threw an arm over Clive's shoulder and gave the man a little hug. "Glad to have you back, mate. I ain't ashamed to say I missed you and that accent of yours."

Now he sat down, stretching his neck to one side and then the other. He snuck a peek at James to see how the man was doing, then looked out into the rain as they waited for aid from the villagers.

"I hope they bring some food, I could eat a horse."

What a fucking morning.

The Orc Captain of Engineering stood in a permanent salute as he gave his report to his leader, who was stood with his two bodyguards on either side of him.

"An additional 100 catapults will be built by the end of the day. We are chopping down the nearby forest for more materials as we speak, sir."

General Saladin smiled. "Good. The enemy have nowehere to run. Their closest possible armies are 3 weeks away, in Fornost. And with The Wellsprings currently broken, there will be no chance for any strong Adventurering Parties to get here in less than 2 weeks."

"Then we continue the bombardment, sir," the Orc Captain surmised.

"Yes. We will maintain artillery fire for 10 days. Run dry the cities magical reserves on artillery defence. Then a full-scale assault will be child's play." General Saladin laughed. "The Free People's Empire cling tightly with both hands on Fornost, leaving no one to catch Valhiem as it falls into our hands."

In the corner of the tent, a mouse was scratching it's ear with a foot. Occasionally it looked around, seemingly oblivious to where it was. But it's eyes had a faint turqoise glow to them. It was no ordinary mouse.



"Cavalry forces circle the outskirts of the city," Commander Thorn replied. "Lizard Heavies and the faster Dark Riders. Within 2 days, enemy regiments will be posted on all roads out of the city."

This was the 2nd War Room meeting.

Mayor Pendlebury was sweating, clearly stressed. "Then if we cannot evacuate the city, we should begin drawing the citizenry up the mountain."

Clarissa Shields entered the War Room late, bringing with her The Academy's best Druid. Everyone's head turned as she spoke. "10 days." She came to the table but did not take a seat. "10 days of bombardment from their artillery. 5 Source cannons. An every-growing number of catapults."

"Good information?"

Clarissa motioned to her Druid friend. "We got a spy into their camp."

Enio Ivey, Director of Witchcraft and Wizardy Studies, shook his head. "10 days of constant bombardment is going to drain our defensive lines. Our Ritual Barrier's are keeping out 100% of missiles and magic attacks so far, but keeping the city safe for 10 days is going to render our Magic Regiments ineffective by the time the real fighting comes. We'd be better off if they attacked today!"

Clarissa Shields disagreed. "Maybe not. My team have recently come into possession of an enemy artifact. Our current analysis of it suggests that it might be helpful, if we can just figure out enough to get it working. But we aren't close. We need more testing. Everyday is crucial."

Mayor Pendlebury spoke again. "So we keep the city running, business as usual, for now?"

"Business as usual," Clarissa replied. "No sense in crowding The Academy and Citadel until it's absolutely necessary. We must be efficient with the time we've been given." She turned to the two men in the fanciest armour. "Commander Thorn & Inquisitor McGarren and their men will be able to operate in preparation more effetively if half of our defence force isn't bogged down in unnecessary 'people moving' just yet." She then turned back to everyone. "Any news on Director Reginald De Wran?"

"Not yet," answered another Academic. "We believe they will try to sneak into the city by the South River. We are watching hawkishly. There's been no sign of trouble or fighting in that direction, so that's good reason to believe they are biding their time for a good moment."

High Septum Areleth, who'd been quiet up until this point, now spoke. Everyone listened. "With any luck, his secret operation will bear the most fruit on this barren tree. Getting into contact with the mysterious adventurers who claim to be from another world... this should remain a top priority."



Food, medicine, bandages, antiseptic. Non-magical healers and well-wishers. Hardul had summoned all Cherrad could offer to come and help their saviours, Second Chance.

By the time they arrived atop Temple Hill, the rain had slowed to a stop.

First aid and potion administration was done on the spot, at the shelter. But there were offers to bring Second Chance back to Cherrad for a real shelter with real opportunities for bedrest. The loggers and lumberjacks who'd come in case there was a need to search for survivors in the collapsed temple entrance, were also ready to clear a Flat-Bed Wagon and Horses and offer Second Chance a ride back to Valhiem.

But one step at a time, the villagers only wanted to make sure that Second Chance were fit and hale.

After Barracker heard about the mystery behind Clive's arrival, he was extremely disturbed. Resurrection, his gut twisted at the word. His brain was rattled with questions. For instance, who had made the call to commit the highest of crimes against The Church and the whole Empire. To disrupt The Quinity's cycle of creation and destruction. It was an insult to Hades. This did not sit well with the Paladin. But Clive's fate was not of his own doing, he did not decide this fate for himself and he did not break any laws. This travesty fell to another. The robed figures did this, what was their goal in all this? It was surely agents of The Witch Queen. It was known across all of Mytheria how big of a crime this was, a powerful ritual of the dark domain, one domain that should treated with caution and limitation, only taught about the ramifications and problems which could come from the dark arts. Clive seemed normal, he seemed himself and fought with pure intentions about protecting his friends and putting a dent in the forces of evil. He had shown his qualities of fighting prowess and comradery to his party after. He had shown character that is looked for in a Paladin and a protector of the people by the ‘The Military Arm Of The Church.’ Barracker's training to be a Paladin often had reminders about the cycle of creation and destruction and that without the jobs of Iris and Hades doing their part on things, it would lead to chaos. Resurrection was an opposing wedge against the gods and goddesses, not just that but it spat in the face of the Quinity and The Source itself.

Barracker looked at his party as he went round asking them each how they were, he pondered to himself, These people aren’t tied to his world, the source in them reacts strangely within them and so maybe Hades or Iris does not appear where they are. Maybe there is no source where they are from… he glanced at Clive. Which would suggest that beheading the resurrected man would do nothing to restore the balance or bring justice to the world.

The limits of each of Second Chance, what Barracker would say, ‘the tie that binds us to the source’, itself, seemed to be non-existent in them. He would have to ask and know more about his party members' lives and even learn more about this ‘Blade’ person Zell spoke so highly about. The Paladin was curious about the new things about their world and if there were any overlaps, similarities to Mytheria. Resurrection, again his gut twisted but the feeling was a lot less this time, his brain finding resolution, zoomed in on the fact that Clive was innocent in all this. That remained his focus in all this. It was these ‘robed figures’ who had done the crime punishable by death.

He helped us defeat Zigmund. He showed his quality in battle and showed his heart, and Barracker felt a kind and warm energy from the man when Clive gave him a pat on the shoulder to thank him for the 'Barrier spell assist.' The cloaked figures, I do wonder what your intentions were though.

After helping out where he was needed, Barracker took it upon himself to shed light on the situation to the villagers. After all, most of them would just be waking up to the news that their village was safe and the cult was disbanded. There was a small crowd summoned around an elder. Barracker spoke to the villagers and announced The Temple of Hades had been cleansed of the greater wraith. An ex-cultist named David mentioned that the priest of the temple, Jon Gringot is dead. Barracker figured out who they had been talking about and explained to the village elder Antonius. “David is right, he perished while under the wraith's influence. We tried to save as many as we could but your leader would have been the first target of the wraith and this is why he would have been too far gone under the evil sphere of influence.”

A young man came forward, the vampire's look was apparent to the young man. “Excuse me. I’m Steven Sullivan. Are you Barracker Kassel, by chance?”

The vampire’s look was drawn to the young man. “I am”.

Steven took a few steps towards the vampire. “You did a kindness for a bee keeper in Cherrad, and brought hope to my mother’s heart. And now I will cherish more moments with her. And for that I am grateful. But my mom said there were two of yous. A young woman, golden haired, dressed as a ranger…? I forget her name.”

Barracker remembered who his mother was. A lovely woman who had wished for her son to be brought back from being brainwashed from the greater wraith. He pointed Steven Sullivan towards “MacKensie Trydant” and told him that he was glad that everything had worked out.

Slowly, agonizingly slowly he patched himself as much as he could, he- Zigmund was a bastard but he was an efficient bastard, the punctures were clean enough that one may be able to see throught him, he wasn't sure if he could manage to hold until help arrived but frankly he was out of options. It rankled being left at the mercy of strangers but what truly hurt was knowing he couldn't patch his friends himself, fucking joke of a healer he was. Didn't help that he was feeling guilty about causing the injuries in the first place.

Yeah, turns out conducing surgery on oneself is oddly meditatig, who could have guess that was what would resolve his state of mind.

Okay maybe resolve wasn't the proper word, his head was still a mess but at least he could think as himself now. The Blessing was... weird, even after using he still felt like he didn't comprehend it at all, after it was activated for a fraction of a second it was like he saw, felt, experienced and became everything about Zigmund, if he closed his eyes he could vividly remember the memories of the other man, his memories now, of scurring along the streets of the capitol, of getting into mischief with his fellow rats as a wee lad, of his crimes, of his archievments.

Of his sins.

Fuck he remembered the glee he felt just a couple minutes ago when he was demolishing his friends, except that all he could feel now was the burning mix of shame, guilt and disgust that threatened to make him vomit wha little he had of breakfast.

But that wasn't him, those weren't James' actions, they were Zigmund's... right? Frankly, he couldn't tell where James finished and Zigmund started anymore, to him it felt abnormally natural, he was James who was Zigmund who was James, and that felt like the correct answer. The only answer.

He instinctively knew that if Zigmund, the other Zigmun, was still alive he would be dealing with the exact same thing, at the thought an alien yet familiar part of him couldn't help but feel bitter at the bastard for dying and leaving him as this mess, despite it being caused by his -their? Nha that felt weird, caused by his actions in the first place. But that felt like part of course didn't it? Just a stupid idiot making a mess and having to deal with the consequences.

Thinking back on the corpse, didn't that meant that James, the part that was him inside that Zigmund died alongside him? A pit opened on his stomach, that would mean he just created a copy of himself and sentenced it to die before it could fully form. A diferent coin toss and he would be the dead personality, yet he didn't find himself frightened by the though, he could easily imagine the other James would be happy to have died helping take down Zigmund.

Fucking hell that brought a new host of confusing feelings to his mind.

Speaking of confusing feelings.

Clive was dead, he killed him, except Clive was alive now and he killed Zigmund, there was some sort of irony or dark humor in that a part of Zigmund was still alive but he didn't feel like laughing when he was the butt of the joke. At least James was happy to see a comrade back.

Gods he was feeling tired.

He sat there, letting his thoughts run rampant, there was a halfhearted attempt to listen to the conversation going around him but he abandoned it as soon as he realized he just didn't have the strength to focus on anything. Instead he just stared at the corpse, the corpse that belonged to a man who lost his way a long time ago and who did things he wasn't proud of. What a fucking mess.

When the help finally arrived he allowed himself to nod off.

He dreamed of his childhood, of his loving family waiting for him to return.

"No need to worry about that." The group of burly men, one of which was one-foot ready to climb into the ruins of the temple entrance, all turned to see Zell stood looking at them. The swordsman was leaning on a single crutch, gesturing to the rubble with his free hand. "You won't find anyone in there."

"You sure?"

"Yeah," Zell continued. "Pretty-much everyone in the temple was asleep when it all came crashing down. I was closest - climbed through that mess myself. There was no one else."

The explanation seemed to put them all at ease. One of them came to stand to next Zell so he could observe the damage to the temple from a better view. He shook his head and grumbled. "May Hades forgive us for this desecration."

Zell gave a low-note whistle. "Yeah," he halfheartedly agreed. "I'm sure he will. Can't exactly blame you, can he. Gonna cost ya though - getting this fixed."

"In manpower and money," was the gruff response. "But the towns around will help. Valhiem too... if we can get through all the red tape."

"Yeah, best of luck with that, pal."

...

It only took him eight doors. "Winner."

After finding the secret side-door to the temple, where Fenna and all of the ex-cultists had exited, Zell had gone looking for food and finally navigated his way through the maze of rooms to the temple kitchen. The healing potion that he'd been kindly given by a helpful villager was starting to work and his leg was doing a little better, but the potion had tasted like crap and reminded him that he was starving. Now he was ready to hungry-hippo every cupboard in the kitchen.

He settled down at a table with a big bowl of milk and oats - something not unfamiliar to the athlete - and worked his spoon relentlessly, pausing only to say, "Ohh, that's the stuff," with a full mouth.

A tired smile stayed on MacKensie's face as she recieved treatment from the villagers. Her deep lacerations, now treated with healing ointment and salve, were fairly noticeable, highlighted by the tears in her tunic and undershirt. Rips and ladders in her tights showed the minor cuts and scrapes she'd recieved from the various times she'd been thrown around the courtyard. Her swollen eye had gone down but was still difficult to see out of. She was pretty beat up. And yet that tired smile remained. Clive was alive. Although he didn't give much of an explanation, it didn't matter. He was alive.

To add to this; so much of her anxiety had been resolved during this mission. Her strong-headed push for her friends to take the Gold Class mission had not resulted in any deaths. Her confidence issues, regarding her acrobatics, were no more. And Zigmund was dead, never to haunt them again. The metal ninja's death had provided a distinct, dark sense of satisfaction. Back in the Mazy Hillocks, it had been chaos - with Lillianna clinging to life after being impaled, Aurok the Maneater stomping around the confined canyon and demanding most of the attention... amidst all of that, it had been MacKensie and Zell who stood against Zigmund towards the end, furious anger in the frenchwoman's eyes and the englishman's voice as Zell promised to cut Zigmund's head off. And in spite of the seeming futility of the promise... in spite of the extreme power-gap... it had been MacKensie and Zell again, at the end, delivering that promise. Of course, none of it would've been possible without all of the courage, skill and fury of Second Chance as a whole (and however the vicory came, it would have been a bittersweet joy,) but the way it ended, made victory just that little sweeter.

And so she sat there, beat up and aching, with a tired smile, staring through the busy scene around her sightlessly, only occasionally paying attention to see her friends were doing well, and sharing her smile with them.

"Adam," she said to the red-eyed man she sat beside. "What was it like?" She let the question hang for a moment as she stared into the distance, before finally turning her head to look upon her equally beat up friend. "To shapeshift - to be an animal." Many things in Mytheria were fantastical, but there was something special about Adam's new power. After all, what young child hadn't dreamed of being a bird in the sky? Or perhaps played pretend as a lion. It was almost like he'd lived what was a wish of so many. She would digest his answer thoughtfully (tiredly) but her follow-up statement would remain the same. "You were incredible."

She stayed put, content to rest, until she noticed the young man who approached Barracker and remembered his face. That made her get up and go over to where the Paladin was, approaching as she heard her name. "Steven," she greeted.

Steven Sullivan. In reality, he was the luckiest of all of George's ambush squad, yesterday evening, in the fight before the moonlight opened up the temple. He was the spearman who surrendered. Others were not so fortunate to survive, let alone escape without injury. But it was all in the past now. MacKensie shook the man's hand and recieved his thanks with warm humility, wishing him well and thanking him for coming back up the hill to give Second Chance aid. She spent a moment with Barracker, speaking with the village elder, Antonius, finding out that Cherrad was offering them a choice to get some bedrest in the village or give them a ride back to Valhiem.

"What do you think?" she asked Barracker.

Bedrest sounded good, but many of their injuries would be best dealt with at Valhiem's hospital. After hearing the vampire's answer, she went around to hear what the others thought. Seeing James asleep in the shelter, right in the spot he first sat down, brought a smile to her face. He certainly deserved a good sleep after his performance. Their leader's genius had once again shined brightly, somehow out-thinking a seemingly invincible foe. She would not disturb him. The rest of them were capable of making this decision without him. Zell was nowhere to be found, but she was confident that he would go with whatever decision the rest of them made, so that left Clive, Fenna and Adam.

"It wouldn't take long to reach Valhiem by wagon, seeing as we walked here and it only took an afternoon," she said to the others. "I think that a quick nap and some food would not hurt, but perhaps a direct and prompt heading for the city hospital would be the wisest course of action." She shrugged weakly and apologetically. "In truth, I am not sure."

"No"

MacKensie's assessment of their situation did not leave Adam with much confidence. Ignoring his own pain, upon observation James especially was not doing so great. The Druid appreciated the Ranger asking someone to move him though. And speaking of ignoring things, while Barracker moved the Cleric, Clive seemed to leave the red-eyed man in the rain. He considered speaking up, but it would have been redundant, since Zell went ahead and picked him up. 

Upon the swordsman's evaluation of his condition, Adam had to agree. “Not the best day.” Not much inflection or emotion to it, just a tired acceptance. It was taking much of the man's energy to stay awake at all, though he did remember to thank the “party idiot” when he set him down. “And be sure to get some help yourself, please.” Even in his current state, the Druid couldn't help being who he was, eyeing his teammate's leg. All the same, having the strength to move someone else while injured was impressive. Zell seemed to interpret Adam's message to mean “go in the temple.” Or was that his plan all along? The Fighter was kind of a mystery on a good day, and the red-eyed man was far too worn out to think about it. Better to rest and-

"Adam," she said to the red-eyed man she sat beside.  "What was it like?"  She let the question hang for a moment as she stared into the distance, before finally turning her head to look upon her equally beat up friend.  "To shapeshift - to be an animal."

Nope, not sleeping now. Adam didn't need to be a romantic genius to know that falling asleep after your crush asked you something would be a bad look. Instead, he looked at her and responded. How to describe it? It felt elitist, but the Ranger wasn't a Druid. She wouldn't entirely understand the forces involved. This was magic, magic that was innate to his class. Even the basic spells that he learned by accident made him more useful to his party than all those other fancy high-power wizards, or so he was told. Perhaps that's why Glee knew of his potential in the first place and-oh right, the question!

“...different. The feeling of power was something incredible, but I didn't always feel like myself. The bear part of me - what you saw on the mountain - tried taking over. That should be easier to resist with time, though. And for some reason, I feel like the spell has room to grow, pun not intended.” At this, he weakly chuckled, and then thanked MacKensie for her sentiment. When she got up, the fisherman noticed a potion next to him. Perhaps a villager had left it there while he was fighting the desire to rest? This was another question he didn't have the energy to ponder. Instead he drank the thing, grateful for its existence.

As he felt it working, the team's Ranger presented a question to everyone around. Which, unfortunately for him, wasn't something Adam could ignore this time. “What Second Chance should do” ranked high on the priority list for obvious reasons. And the Druid felt pretty strongly about what seemed to be the best course of action.

“We should go to the hospital, I think. If anyone needs food we can probably get some from the villagers and eat on the road, but some of us are in pretty bad shape.” Saying this, he looked at James before concluding his statement. “I'd rather not risk anything if it can be helped.”

"Ha!" He threw an arm over Clive's shoulder and gave the man a little hug. "Glad to have you back, mate. I ain't ashamed to say I missed you and that accent of yours."

"Glad to hear you missed somethin' other than a dang ole' woman's touch sonny boy." the southerner jabbed at the frenchman good-naturedly with a guffaw, slapping Zell on the back "Ha, nah boy you're a good feller' a crazy son of a bitch but you gots a heart o' gold in there." the farmer gave Zell's shoulder a light squeeze, he looked about the room gauging by the expressions he could tell they didn't really know what to feel about all this.

The whole fight with Zigmund and Clive's unexpected return though the simple farmhand couldn't even blame them it was all so much even for him. Few faces he knew were withdrawn, James looked like he'd seen a ghost looking whiter than a sheet from a line of freshly dried linen. Internally he clicked his tongue 'Something ain't quite right about that boy,' while he grunted as he got to his feet and went about to give his old friends a word or two he thought to himself 'Give em time, he ain't need to be pressed when he looks like he's about to shatter.'

Clive wasn't no healer but he had a bit better bedside manner than most physicians if he were one that's for certain without a chair really he rested against the wall where Fenna lay, her bird eyeing him up.

"Howdy there little feller'" knowing better than to try and pet a bird he gave the intelligent looking little feathered critter a nod "You got a good set o' eyes looking out for you Fenna," the southerner smiled, though there was some mirth to it "I ain't ashamed to admit that I was mighty worried about you, glad you're alright little lady and...Y'know I recall we talked awhile ago and you seemed surprised I wasn't shook by being well you know in another world."

"Well, I ain't said it but I was shook just didn't want to admit it. But ya'll were shook too, so I did what my old man did years ago and kept face to make sure others wouldn’t falter."

As he spoke, he made it certain that he wasn't just speaking to Fenna but looking around and admitting to his friends and new acquaintance he had been afraid too "I think my old man put it perfectly 'It's not about protecting people from themselves, it's about keeping em sane in this crazy world we live in' don't think he knew how true them words were." he laughed crossing his arms.

"It wouldn't take long to reach Valhiem by wagon, seeing as we walked here and it only took an afternoon," she said to the others. "I think that a quick nap and some food would not hurt, but perhaps a direct and prompt heading for the city hospital would be the wisest course of action." She shrugged weakly and apologetically. "In truth, I am not sure."

Clive tilted his head to the side and scratched his chin with a rough finger "Can't say I can argue with that, they better have some gosh darn clothes an' a bed cause my bones are ache'n up something fierce! Sounds mighty fine to me." with that he gave a reassuring nod to MacKenzie and stood rolling his shoulder.

The villages had done a good job at treating her wounds, but Fenna knew her shoulder would need a visit to the hospital. Her legs were fine, but her wounds ached so she choose to remain seated for the time being. She smiled when Clive joined her, addressing Sil first. The man was polite, even to a bird. "I'm blessed to have her," she said in reply to his comment about how watchful Sil was, although she didn't comment on the remark about how worried he was for her. It was kind he did, it meant he cared. During the battle she had focussed on defeating their enemy, not on how it would make others feel if she got hurt. She recalled their conversation and nodded. It made sense what he said.
"Your father sounds like a wise man," she commented.

When MacKensie spoke up, she turned her attention to her fellow ranger. Both Adam and Clive gave their opinion on the matter.
"I agree," she said on her turn. "It's no use staying here, we should head back. The people here are kind but can't fix my shoulder. I too want to go back as soon as we can. There is a message waiting for us."

And so, after saving the local region from Drath'tuthan the Greater Wraith and his brainwashed cult, Second Chance were heralded heroes by all those the lands around. Storytellers and writers would spread their great deed from village to village and town to town, putting yet another tale in circulation of the current culture, gossip and news of Northern Central Mytheria.

With Zigmund Mugba-Zarak finally dead, the Heroes from the Sky would finally be rid of their persistent nemesis. Although, James Sirius' use of the Lathop Blessing might mean that the Elite Agent of General Saladin's Scout Force will live on in another way.



Antonius, the village elder in Cherrad sent news down to the village that Jon Gringot, former priest of the Temple of Hades, was dead. Instructions were that a new temporary priest was needed, until the necessary organization of the religious heirachy could be re-established. Antonius therefore named one of Cherrad's own devout worshippers to hold the position. All of this, the wily old man did ahead of time, and so by the time Second Chance were off Temple Hill and back in Cherrad, a scribe had already written up a missive, asking for the blessing from Valhiem's High Septum, Areleth, for this emergency declaration.

Antonius recieved the rolled-up parchment from the scribe when he entered the village, and before Second Chance could leave, he asked a favor of Barracker Kassel.

"Sir Paladin," Antonius bowed his head, forcing a respectful tone to Barracker. It was not he was scared or hateful of Barracker for being afflicted with vampirism. Barracker had proven himself a heroic man and carried himself with an air more noble than half of those who would dub themselves 'nobility.' It was just that, with all of the stories of vampires that went around, it was a litle unnerving to be in the Paladin's presence. And it was extremely weird to know that this vampire was a righteous and noble Paladin of the Church and devout servant of Hades. "I beg of you one last kindness, if you would allow: Please deliver this missive to the Temple of the Quinity." He explained to Barracker what it was for. "It is probably more than necessary, but it would relieve an old man's heart to know that the High Septum is aware of our crisis here."

Antonius bowed his thanks and bid Barracker well.



The flat-bed wagon, used for transporting felled trees or finished lumber, was now transporting Second Chance all the way back to Valhiem. The roads in Northern Central Mytheria were well paved and wide enough that Clive Michel could easily ride his own horse alongside the large vehicle, if he chose to. If not, then he and the rest of the adventurers could lounge together while a wagon driver made sure they were en route to the big city.

They would arrive at Valhiem early afternoon, but for now, they could enjoy a moment's peace together, and the beautiful mountains, streams and evergreens of Northern Central Mytheria as the wagon rolled down the road.

"Boy, I'm stuffed," Zell said to himself as he hobbled his way to the secret exit of the temple with the aid of his crutch. The Englishman hadn't stopped at his milk and oats. He'd gone through a variety of easy-to-make foods in the kitchen, leaving unwashed dishes in his wake. After that, and without hesitation, he proceeded to fill up his belt satchel with anything that tickled his fancy. He figured it all an 'extra service charge' for his work. The magical way that inventory worked for Source Crystal users meant that he could pack quite a bit too. It never ceased to amaze him just how compressed dimensional space and weight was in satchel. And this was nothing compared with the enchanted haversack that Adam carried around with him. You could probably fit a piano in that thing, Zell imagined jokingly.

When he got outside, "Crap, where'd everybody go!?" he hurried as best he could across the courtyard towards Temple Hill steps. But not before stopping by the severed head of Zigmund. "Thought you were Bee's Knee's, didn't ya, ye bastard. Well look at you now," he said with contempt. He spat on the metal-plated head, then hobbled off to make his descent down to the village of Cherrad.

...

Of course, Second Chance didn't leave without him. He wasn't sure how long he'd held them up, so he forgoed stopping to hear any gratitude or platitude, giving a salute to the village elder Antonius as he passed him by. "All the best, old man. Pleasure to serve in your hour of need. We go by Second Chance, also known as The Heroes from the Sky, Slayer of Aurok the Maneater and probably a dozen other things before the year's end. Tell your friends."

He wasn't his gracefully athletic self getting up onto the flat-bed wagon with a crutch, but he managed it, giving a nod in leui of a hello for anyone who looked. He plonked himself between James and Barracker, first checking on the Cleric. "How's it going, mate? You're looking a little better than before." He thought it not best to pry too hard in front of everyone, but he was sure something was up with James. As soon as he got a moment alone with his friend, he would have to find out what exactly had happened between him and Zigmund before the final checkmate.

...

It wasn't with comfiest journey he'd ever been on, but Zell enjoyed the relaxing views, his bad leg stretched out before him, elbows resting on the guard-rail he was leaning back against. After a while, he gave Barracker a nudge.

"Sorry about your sword, bro," he said quietly, sincerely and very seriously.

A warrior's weapon was an extension of themselves - quite often sentimental, named, even gendered and given personality by it's owner. The best swordsmen often cared for their sword deeply, maintaining it like a solid friendship. This, Zell understood as part of his vast knowledge of swords, swordplay and the other adjacent subjects he'd been gifted with, upon entering this world. On top of that, Zell remembered the pride and fondness Barracker spoke with when the two of them, as strangers in Golden Tree Park, traded weapons to each show off their prized possessions. To see the Orichaclum Claymore in pieces was an extra injury amongst the party.

"Gildor Hammerfist in Valhiem should be able to repair it. Don't worry about it, it'll be stronger than ever once he's through with it," he gave the Paladin a grin with his attempt to cheer the man up. They talked for a little bit about the best materials for swords and what the best alloys were. Then the topic went on to the best kinds of swords beyond their katana and greatsword. Then techniques and stances. And finally a mix of all three topics: 'What worked best; for what, with what and when.'

But in the end, thinking back on that finishing moment when he'd gotten the drop on Zigmund and delivered his promise to the bastard, Zell changed the subject completely.

"You know..." he started, a short glance at the sky to consider his wording before looking back at his friend. "You being a Paladin of Hades n all - what happens to a person when they die, in this world? Or at least; what's supposed to happen? Is there a heaven and hell, or something?" He gave Barracker a chance to speak a little before asking some follow up questions to get more detail about Hades himself, the religion of The Quinity in general, and where Zigmund would be rotting right now, if it was possible to know.

"Was never sure if God was real, back in my world. Never cared, tee-bee-haeche. Now I'm starting to think that there probably was... well... something, at least. Maybe like The Source. Or maybe a full-on fucking man in a cloud. After spending a few weeks in Mytheria, I'm not sure I can be surprised by anything anymore. Ha."

Barracker agreed with the decision to get to Valhiem and not linger about any longer than needed. “With the party’s injuries, I am all for Valhiem, if that is the decision of the party.” He did not give a strong opinion as he still felt quite new to the party. Either option was not too bad as they would get to recover, somewhat. But the facilities at Valhiem’s hospital was definately needed for the party. Source Crystal technology in matters of healing was one of the greatest gifts for those blessed with a Source Crystal in their hands.

Barracker went off, surveying, the once battlefield, looking for his sword. It took some moments, but he had gathered all three pieces of his sword. “There you are,” the vampire wrapped the shards up and put it away, attaching it onto his belt, pouch. “Thank the quinity,” the Paladin rose to his feet and walked down the hill. The short walk made Barracker feel good that village was now safe and clear of any dark corruption. His first mission had been cleared and the puddles splashed underneath the Paladin’s feet as he departed from Hades’ temple upon the hill. He felt stronger than before, and now for the first time he could feel the source synchronizing with his water domain, as if dealig with Zigmund had woken it up. He must explore this avenue even more with the help of the academy, there will surely be someone there who could help him advance.

Elder Antonious approached the Paladin and handed him a parchment letter and asked him for a favour, that he would gladly accept. “You have my word that this will be given to the hands of the High Sepctum, himself and noone else. Stay swift, the village is in your hands now”.

Moments later, on the wagon ride back to Valhiem. Barracker was watching the scenery change among his very eyes, lost in thought until he was nudged in the side by his fellow companion. Zell brooks, "Sorry about your sword, bro,"

Barracker appreciated the sentiment and gave a smile. He also appreciated his next words too.

"Gildor Hammerfist in Valhiem should be able to repair it. Don't worry about it, it'll be stronger than ever once he's through with it,"

“He is quite the blacksmith, very well known in his work, he has worked with the best type of materials. Earth-bone diamond, shattered my sword. If you can get a sword made of that then you have a sword of legends. Some say that the two of the leaders of the council of heroes have such a weapon. Wars are fought over that resource.” The two of them, even discussed abit more on the subject but also their sword techniques and stances to get the most out of the blow. “Tail stance, it allows me to move really quickly and effectively, then there is Ochs stance which I use for dueling highly skilled melee combatants because of it’s many counters. But as you probably noticed I spend most of my time in VomTag stance with the Claymore resting on my shoulder. Its the most well rounded stance for greatswords and easiest to use with my shield.”

They talked more and even debated more on dueling and combat in general. Barracker brought his knowledge of his studies and his experience as a soldier and also a solo monster hunter. He was very suprised on how deeply he could go with Zell into the weeds and mechanics of these topics that he was always so passionate about. Zell was very different from Barracker but they had alot of common ground and the brash, loud swordsman was so easy to talk to.

"You know… You being a Paladin of Hades n all - what happens to a person when they die, in this world? Or at least; what's supposed to happen? Is there a heaven and hell, or something?"

“Hmmm… these are some big questions, my friend. Ones that would require much study and more than a short wagon ride to fully understand. But basically for most people, their souls would go to a place in the afterlife called ‘The Hollow Fields.’ Depending on many factors such as how they lived their lives and their values, will depend on what happens next. Some are ground into the sand and their souls become seeds to be reborn into another life. Some experience an afterlife where they reside with loved ones until they have their ‘Second Death.’ Some are destined to wander alone in purgatory as ghosts for their sins or trauma. And there are worse fates than these also, for the truly evil.” Barracker shook his head and chuckled as he’d not even scraped the surface. “This a short summary which probably gives you even more questions but that’s the best I can explain it in one sitting.”

The reminder of the possible terrible fates for the truly evil made him aware again of The Devil Baphomet and the need to address this with Zell. But for now he left it alone as the conversation was enjoyable and educational for the newcomers to this world. On the subject of The Quinity and Hades specifically, he said. “There is Iris, The Mother. Hades, the Reaper. Ares, the Warrior. Diavian, the Lover. And Iskara, the Merchant.” He talked for some time giving bits about each of The Quinity. “I chose to devote myself to Hades when I became a Paladin. Ares was a tempting choice as I’ve always been a fighter, but Hades represents an important cog in the cycle of life and death. To have creation, there must be destruction. And so I felt that I was at least fighting for a deeper reason as I would be helping the world recycle and renew. If I am devout enough and attain enough ‘Piety’ I will be rewarded in death by becoming an angel shepard under the personal service of Hades, and spend my afterlife guiding souls to where they need to go.” Barracker gave Zell a serious but warm look and nodded. “It would be an honour an to have such a righteous life and death.”

"Was never sure if God was real, back in my world. Never cared, tee-bee-haeche.”

Barracker did not know what tee-bee-haeche meant but he could not imagine a Mytherian doubting the existence of The Quinity. It was strange to him.

“Now I'm starting to think that there probably was... well... something, at least. Maybe like The Source. Or maybe a full-on fucking man in a cloud. After spending a few weeks in Mytheria, I'm not sure I can be surprised by anything anymore. Ha."

The vampire chuckled and patted his friend’s shoulder. “This is a weird and wonderful world. Even as a native, I can admit this. I’ve seen some crazy things in my short time as a monster hunter alone.” He was silent for a while but then said to Zell in a serious tone. “After we visit the hospital and conclude business with The Adventurers Guild, I have an urgent discussion in great need to have with you. Alone. So please do not disappear too quickly,” he warned, trying to keep the threat from his tone but stay extremely serious as this was no laughing matter. Zell was a free spirit, but those were just one type of the kinds of people who were vulnerable to Princes of the Oblivion Plane.

Fenna sat on the cart, watching the trees go by. While her shoulder was bandaged, the wound still hurt and the many bumps in the roead didn't make her more comfortable. Sil soared high in the sky, going ahead and circling back. Fenna knew exactly where she was without looking up, but she did anyway to admire the bird. With very little to do, her mind wandered to a vacation with her family, where they had done a sightseeing tour with in a wagon pulled by ponies. The children had loved it. She thoughtlessly rubbed the crystal on her hand. People had called her a hero, but she hadn't even done this for them. Of course she wouldn't hesitate to help a person in need, but her goal was to get that message. It felt like the next step towards going home. There had to be a way, whatever brought them here should return them. She hoped.

In an attempt to stop herself from thinking about their world and the people she left behind, or their uncertain future, she turned to MacKensie while Zell and Barracker were discussing Gods and afterlives. "After the hospital I'm going to find a glass of that champagne-like drink they served us in the clothes shop and drink to the demise of the water ninja," she said. Maybe after that find a place that could mend her armour, or get something new. Either way, it was good they were heading back to Valheim.

Dreams are a beautiful thing, sometimes they show you memories and thoughts you didn't realize you had lost, serving as a mirror to some of the desires your subconscious decided you possessed. Other times they were nightmares, your fears made manifest in the worst way. But from time to time, there were those dreams that were so vivid, so calling, that one may be tempted to never wake up.

But as all good things dreams always reach an end.

He calmly opened his eyes, the last thing he remembered was hearing they would be placed in a wagon towards Valhaim before passing out, the events of the last... hours? yes hours, still fresh in his mind, he was James and a part of him was Zigmund and that was okay, he would help his party, and one day he would return to his family. There was nothing else to discuss, it was almost baffling how natural it felt to just accept it but for once he was thankful that things weren't unnecessarily hard.

As Zell sat beside him he couldn't help but direct a wry grin to the taller man "Yeah, yeah I am feeling better, thanks for asking" He let his grimace recede, just a little "Truth be told I am still dealing with some things but, well, give me some minutes and I will explain" He gave another grin to indicate that everything was in order then he turned back to watch the trees.

He-Zigmund's-He knew that the situation was pretty grim over in Valheim, he would have preferred to take his time and relax with his party members but there was a serious threat hanging over the city. At his side he heard the conversation between Zell and Kass, he knew some of what he was saying but it was interesting hearing a Paladin of Hades.

Just as he was about to speak he managed to catch the words from Fenna and had to suppress a flinch.

Right, ah fuck better to rip the bandage as soon as possible.

He stood up to a comfortable position (careful to not fail in the jousting) the cleared his throat to catch the attention of all his party members "Hey guys! I need to speak with you" Awkward opening but keep rolling "I would like to congratulate you, all of you, Second chance for beating m- Zigmund, a no small feat" He tried to direct a smile but failed midway "Sadly there is no time to celebrate, the thing I did with Zigmund was basically an exchange of memories and we got a problem, Valheim is under siege by forces of the Witch Queen, I calculate we have enough time to rest before we need to get in the thick of it again but I thought you would appreciate more being in the known" He tried to make eye contact with them "Sorry for dropping it like this but from the memories, the situation ain't pretty"

Then he directed his gaze to his resurrected friend "Especially to you Clive, I am glad you are alive and I would love nothing more than to throw a party to celebrate your return but the situation is dire" Once more he focused on his party "That should be all, please rest as much as you can, we may have to fight soon"

Then he moved to talk with the driver, chances are they heard him but better make sure, he felt bad pressuring them but if they delayed they may not even find a city intact.

MacKensie found herself becoming a captive audience to Barracker and Zell's discussion until Fenna pulled her attention away.

"After the hospital I'm going to find a glass of that champagne-like drink they served us in the clothes shop and drink to the demise of the water ninja," she said.

MacKensie gave a small smile and gave a single resolute nod. "And I will gladly join you in that." She sighed. "Whatever happens after that, I only know that it will involve a good sleep. The chances are high that whoever sent this message to us through the Source Comm; they will require travelling to, in order to meet them. And if this is the case, then we should be better ready for the road ahead." Her fingers touched the hilt of her dagger as she spoke on. "This mission has showed me some of my limits, and I think I know where I need to invest my money for future expeditions. I will be better prepared."

James interrupted the two women's conversation, rising up to address them all.

"I would like to congratulate you, all of you, Second chance for beating m- Zigmund, a no small feat" He tried to direct a smile but failed midway. For MacKensie's part, she was wondering what on earth James was about to call Zigmund by mistake.

Perhaps he was going to say 'metal ninja,' she decided, although addressing Zigmund as such would surely come out as 'THE metal ninja' and not just 'metal ninja.' It was a strange moment, but he continued to speak so she let it go and listened.

"Sadly there is no time to celebrate, the thing I did with Zigmund was basically an exchange of memories and we got a problem, Valheim is under siege by forces of the Witch Queen, I calculate we have enough time to rest before we need to get in the thick of it again but I thought you would appreciate more being in the known" MacKensie tried so hard to stoicly refrain from groaning a sigh, but failed completely. She was way too tired and mentally drained for this, a far too looking forward to just relaxing after their trips to hospital and the Guildhouse. "Sorry for dropping it like this but from the memories, the situation ain't pretty"

MacKensie shook her head disappointedly as she looked off into the distance. She wasn't sulking. Well, not completely. She was looking for something constructive to say, but she couldn't think of anything right away. She had some vague memories of History in school. From what she could remember, particularly from Napoleonic history, was, "Under siege could mean that the battle has not yet begun. But it might be impossible to get past the invading army. Are cities under siege not usually fully surrounded?" she asked.

She would not dare voice her other thought, Should we change course?

That felt cowardly. Perhaps they could help. Surely, even with their Source Crystals and abilities, they could not fight a whole army. But still, "There must be something we can do to help," she said aloud, not so embarrassed to verbalise that.

Adam was going through the motions, sure. Giving Clive a friendly “welcome back,” getting on the wagon, listening to Barracker's explanation of Hades, trying to stay awake. He processed that he did these things, yes. But the exhaustion from the fight meant that he was not fully aware all the same. Should he try to get some sleep? Maybe, the Druid thought. However, something gave him the feeling that he should wait. Nothing concrete, just a hunch. 

Then James spoke, and he knew why.

A siege? Yeah, that was important. And MacKensie was, as usual, correct. If Second Chance could overcome that awful gold mission, they could help somehow. Even saving one person would be better than doing nothing.

Adam nodded in response to the Ranger's sentiment. “Right. Maybe…” he paused, unsure of himself more due to exhaustion than anything else, “those ninja memories could help Valheim counter the attack, if we know what strategies they're using? Maybe Lucy or Clarissa have enough pull to get someone important to listen to us, if we explain it to them? Does that make any sense?”

The red-eyed man would listen and converse with anyone who wanted to discuss this situation. And when, and only when the correct course of action was identified, would Adam finally allow himself to fall asleep.

Clive's mind wandered back to his recent and sudden resurrection, the memories of his battle with Zigmund still fresh in his mind. He rubbed his chin, feeling the stubble that had grown since his rebirth. It was a miracle he was even alive, and he knew it. But the cost of that miracle still lingered, a weight in his chest that he couldn't shake.

He gazed out at the passing landscape once the cart started moving, his attention turned to James, who seemed to be acting different since the fight. Clive's curiosity got the better of him, and he spoke up in his smooth, southern drawl.

"James, what's eatin' at ya, boy? You look like you've lost your last marble." the southerners eyes narrowed as he studied James' distant expression. He remembered the fight against Zigmund, and how James had invoked some weird magic before he started acting odd.

Clive's mind raced with possibilities - what had James gotten himself into? And what did it have to do with his strange behavior now? But then he leaned back crossing his arms, shrugging "Call it friendly intuition but it just seems like somethings been eating at you boy, you don't got to say anything though." the broad shouldered man leaned back, returning his gaze to the passing countryside with a slight smile.

"Well, whatever it is just take care of yourself ya hear? Don't want you losing your head like that Zigmund did." he told James, offering the man a bit of friendly words and a jab at the dead ninja.

As the flat-bed wagon rolled finally up and around the last mountain in the wild central region, the view opened up to broad flat expanse of westside farmlands on the outskirts of the Valhiem. The wagon driver halted immediately. The farms were on fire.

With time to take in the view, it was possible to see small regiments of mounted soldiers moving around outside the city. Some of the regiments might be mistaken for Valhiem Garrison Cavalry. However, there were other regiments that were not so easily mistaken.

Lizard Cavalry.



Second Chance's temporary chaffeur was frozen stiff, not even able to utter a curse. Even from the distance they were at, which made the Lizard Riders look small, it was clear that they were not horses.

James Sirius was correct: Valhiem was under seige.

Sharp eyes might see the translucent distant glimmer in the sky of the massive magical barrier that spread across the northeast quarter of the city, or the enemy artillery fire exploding into dust as it hit the shield, high up above the city.

"We knew it would happen one day." The wagon driver finally found his voice. It was trembling. "The war in the East has come to us."



The wagon driver was forced to turn around at this point. It was clear that enemy patrols were keeping people from leaving the city, which also meant that they were keeping those outside from entering too. If he got too close, they were would be noticed undoubtedly attacked. He also needed to get word to the villages and towns in the region. They would have to be ready to exodus to the West, if Valhiem fell.

Second Chance had a decision to make:

1. Forge ahead down the road, making a rush for the Southwest Gate of Valhiem. With good timing and fortune, the shortest route to may a defensible, tactical retreat. Providing there was someone brave enough to open the gate upon seeing them, or not mistake them the enemy and shoot at them. (Even with Second Chance's injuries and poor health, this might be possible.)

2. Try to sneak slowly and methodicallly, along the same direct route to the Southwest Gate, using cover of bushes, trees, burning buildings and fire-ridden cropfields. Once close, send one member of Second Chance to go and try to get the gate open for them, or scale the wall if possible.

3. Move around the Southside of the outskirts of the city, at a safe distance, to the high ground where the edge of The Mazy Hillocks sat. From that familiar vantage, and with the river at their side, they might time it right to swim up the channel, or sneak along the riverside, and hope not to get seen. (Or attacked by Friendlies as they tried to breach the riverway war-barricades.)

4. Move Southside to the edge of The Mazy Hillocks, but make camp and survey the situation for longer, perhaps waiting for the night time to use the cover of darkness. (Waiting until midnight would also restore any 'X-Times-per-Day' powers of the adventurers and sleep would recover their injuries and health up to 70%.)

5. Turn around and go with the driver to request horses from Cherrad and directions to the closest city to go and get reinforcements (also giving them the chance to recover back to 100% at a hospital while doing so.)
the
6. Turn around and head West, perhaps for Capitol City, for safety and to inform the highest authorities in the kingdom of progress of War. (Bare in mind, Capitol City is the most logically likely place that Second Chance might get some answers to the Big Question: "Why are they in this world?")

7. Head North to Mountain Fortress of Fornost. Glee John Artorius had once hinted to Adam Phillips that Fornost was the location that most strong adventuring parties had been called to. From the big-picture perspective, tactically, perhaps Second Chance would be best off making a difference to the War Effort there.

8. Choose another path entirely, or some combination of the above. Split up? Go around to the Eastside of Valhiem (where the enemy had surely approached from.) It was up to The Heroes from the Sky to figure out their own destiny.