--Osprey - Atsu Village--
For a moment, the grey-clad elemental magus watched wordlessly as the armored dragoon seemed to assess the situation, and though it was difficult to discern facial expressions with his helmet in the way, she erred on the assumption that the dragonslayer recognized the assistance, proven by the fact that he proceeded to rush after the Valheimr conjurer now that the coast was clear. With that dealt with, Eve figured she should continue assisting the others, make herself useful beyond just a one-off fire support.
It appeared that she wasn't the only one who decided to go out of their way to help the dragoon and his allies, most likely united by their mutual hatred of these tyrants from beyond the ocean. Good. The eidolon chimera allowed herself a small smirk of approval as she watched no less than three sword-wielding adventurers join the frontlines, then if she included the redheaded mystrel and herself, five, more than doubling the four fighters she saw earlier. Truly, to say Valheimir was public enemy number one wouldn't be an understatement.
Perhaps it was due to her petite, unassuming, and muted colors or simply a result of the soldiers' thinning ranks, or a combination of both, Eve was fortunate enough to not be accosted even by a single foe. No doubt they had bigger fish to worry about, in which the infamous Limbtaker Demon of Osprey was among them, and really, it was exceedingly difficult to ignore someone charging at you wielding various implements of lethal functions. This worked exactly to the Pseudolon's benefit as whenever she found herself questing with allies, the most ideal strategy would be to let her comrades engage their foes directly so she could be free to do what she does best. Her small size and preference for drab apparel weren't originally intended to support this tactic, but she wouldn't look at a gift horse in the mouth.
The enemy was attempting to retreat and regroup, but the sentiments of her allies were clear, there'd be no quarter spared for the Valheimr scum for they would do the same had the situation been reversed. Push them, break their backs; stick together, drive a wedge through them; tear these
dogs asunder, carve the way forward in blood and bone; all to achieve a single mutual goal, send as many tyrants as possible to the afterlife where they belong!
Without a moment’s delay, the chimera turned toward the retreating troops,
"...fuh." then exhaled softly as she reached out toward the sky with her right arm, her palm open.
"O' mighty oceans and raging storms, lend me thy wrath to cleanse these sinners..." As she chanted, a single orb of concentrated mana - dark blue in hue, like the seas amidst a terrible hurricane - spawned at her palm before it soared over to the soldiers,
"Tempest Torrent!" Before Eve enunciated, closing said open palm into a fist as the orb shattered, heralding a veritable deluge of magical electrified water to spill from the orb.
The lethal waves wasted no time in washing over the Valheimr ranks, both drowning and jolting those unlucky enough to be caught in their wake, especially those who lagged behind due to injuries or assisting the injured, including the fusiliers covering their retreat.
"..." The black magus watched her arcane handiwork with pitiless eyes; there was no triumphant joy, nor sadistic pleasure, merely stoic pragmatism. Just like the Blight, these tyrants were a taint upon Artimis and they must be cleansed before the planet could heal.
As the remaining soldiers made their escape, Eve turned toward the Limbtaker as she had just finished interrogating a hostage, which quickly became a casualty after Izayoi got what she needed from him.
Kugane... The artificial eidolon took a moment to weigh her options, she could part ways with these strangers now and continue as she was before, a solitary dragoness fighting her battles alone,
or she could...
Perhaps it's finally time... Yes, as mighty as Bahamut's blood could be, she was still just one girl, if she wished to topple the empire, she couldn't achieve this goal alone. Besides, if these people could accept the Emperor's Demon herself to stand side-by-side as allies, then by comparison, what was a mere mutant magus?
Solemnly closing her red eyes, Eve made a decision as she pulled her hood back up, then her feet carried her... toward her newfound comrades.
During the group's preparations to set up camp, Eve's primary contribution was lighting the fire pit with a simple cast of pyromantic spell, bypassing all the steps that'd otherwise be required to ignite the pile of wood, then she sat down around it, merely watching the others enjoy their meal, though Eve could still consume food for the pleasure, her eidolonic metabolism meant she instead required ether to survive and right now, she wasn't feeling like "wasting" a pack of rations for herself where it could be given to those who actually needed them. Instead, she took the time to examine each of her companions.
There was the infamous Izayoi the Emperor's Demon of course, but then Eve realized she also recognized another, the dragoon that she assisted earlier. Yes, she heard about him several times during her travels, he's Lord Galahad Wildemont Caradoc, dragonslayer extraordinaire, war hero of the Ospreyan - Edrenian conflict. It felt... poetic for someone like her - an artificial progeny of the King of Dragons - to be assisting an individual whose life's work revolved around slaying her "father"'s people and wearing their scales and hide as armor, but it was a paltry matter compared to the two global threats they were mutually facing.
Speaking of, the infamous samurai requested for the strangers to explain themselves, which was expected all things considered.
The first to take the figurative stage was one known as Esben Mathiassen, an agent of the Garden hailing from the isolationist nation of Skael, and he wasn't alone, the other Sollan, one he called Rudolf, was with him. The two were already in the village even before those soldiers arrived? How... unlucky of them, though it worked out in the end. He also seemed to recognize someone else beside the two famed war heroes, the salmon-haired Sollan woman, and he called her Commander, a fellow Garden operative, Eve assumed? What were the odds?
Up next was the Sollan Esben mentioned just now, Rudolf the monster hunter, hailing from Edren, and he appeared to idolize the dragoon. Eve supposed they were birds of a feather, just that Galahad was more specialized in his craft. Well, good for him then, he could now travel with his role model.
Following the monster hunter was the Mystrel, no, not Izayoi, the smaller, less famous, and much redder one.
"..." Her skittish nervousness was palpable even from the very first stuttered word. Ah well, as long as her heart was in the right place.
And now, Eve supposed it was a good time as any, she had to get this over with sooner or later anyway.
"I'm..." Grayscale? No, that was what the Valheimrs called her, not her name,
"...Eve." The magus introduced herself, raising her voice a bit for the benefit of the group. As for her motive, she decided that for this case, actions would speak a thousand times louder than words. Raising her hands, Eve whisked back her hood.
Illuminated by the flames of the pit, she let the party have a good look, a privilege that she so far reserved for scant few people; revealing a pair of ivory-white draconic horns sprouting from where her Sollan ears should be, the patches of scales visible on her forehead and neck, her albino-pale complexion, and blood-red eyes with pupils a bit too narrow than a Sollan should have. Lastly, her scale-covered tail slithered around onto her lap.
"Valheim did this to me." 
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