[center][url=https://fontmeme.com/fallout-new-vegas-font/][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/230112/f7d774d3ec20946c1b1c06b083a1b2cd.png[/img][/url][/center] Zell was sat on the grass against a tree, on the slopes at the foot of Citadel Mountain. He was far enough from the road and onto the green that no one would spot him, but his own view was within range of Little Bridge. For him, the time couldn't go fast enough. Ironically, it was the total opposite; time was moving like molasses. Midnight was still some time away and he had nothing to do. There was no sense in going up the mountain early. It would be extremely difficult to be inconspicious just loitering around the upper district. Someone would be bound to notice his presence and more likely to either ask questions or remember him tomorrow, when news of the Ambassador's disappearance was out and police started an investigation. He didn't want to hang around at The Mended Drum either. He'd rather not be seen at all, by his friends, than seen leaving the inn when midnight neared. It was best that none of them knew about this little tangeant into illicit escapades. In this gap in his schedule - this moment of solitude - Zell expected to hear from Baphomet. It was clear that the Devil was no longer confined to the dream world, as he was before. Zell could sense him, like a weight on his mind, or when you can feel someone watching you, or the congestion of the air in a room full of gangsters. Actually - all of the above. But the Prince of the Oblivion Plane didn't say a word, not once. [i]Strange.[/i] He pondered the battle ahead. So far, he'd shown nothing but his usual brand of unassailable confidence. Unbreakable Zell Brooks. 'Mentality Monsters' as he and his football team used to call themselves. Macho dumbasses was what they were, in truth. 'Screw the odds, Second Chance had dealt with everything else Mytheria had to throw at them.' In truth: Mytheria had killed two of them, disappeared another two and nearly broke the spirit of their youngest, Adam. 'We are the Lions, hear us roar?' A third of their one hundred were mere cubs. A few were fucking kittens. Zell rubbed his cheek as he absent-mindedly watched a troop of guards cross the little bridge in the distance. "Valhiem's circling the drain," he muttered to himself. "They'd have to be perfect. Every external factor in their favour. Every star to align. And even then, victory would be a miracle." The truth hurt. What's worse was that he couldn't even tell his friends. Not for fear of looking like a coward, although that certainly played a small part in the equation. He couldn't tell them because Second Chance had been the source of a spark of morale in the city, these past few days. What if the truth was the straw that broke the camel's back - what if his words stole their shine and stopped them from shining on Valhiem? "Certain death for everyone. From a 1% chance to win, to zero." [i]A General who knows when and when not to fight, never loses.[/i] Valhiem was a terrible choice to make a stand. The walls didn't even have ballista towers or built-in mage towers reinforced with ritual metamagic; Bolster, Extend, Quicken, Heighten... they weren't even prepared in spite of being virtually on the front lines of the war. The people in charge of this place were fucking idiots. They should have evacuated Valhiem well before now. Retreated west. Especially when the fortress in the north started drawing all the strength from the region. "Frogs in slowly boiling water, content with the warmth," Zell spat bitterly. "Christ, what lunacy." Zell shook his head. The lights were red when he got hit by that bus, at the end of his last life. (A fact that he consistently reminded himself of, everyday he'd been in Mytheria.) It [i]wasn't[/i] a mistake to cross that street. Just an accident caused by a shitty driver. [i]This time; the lights are green. Bright fucking green. Inescapable emerald. Super celadon. Loud lime.[/i] And there was enough time to make a decision. In fact, there was an Ambassador literally showing him how to [i]not[/i] be a lemming. No excuses. This time, it would be all on him, if he chose to step onto the road.