Trajan studied the gathering party of individuals as he waited for Kilo's return. He had to assume that the mist was not the threat itself, but that it was concealing the
true threat within. Some manner of foul creature or xeno sorcerer. Something, he could only hope, able to be combated with iron and steel, lest the apparently sole mage among them be faced with a daunting task.
Still, it would help to take preliminary stock of the fighters at hand, to have a basic understanding of this impromptu group's strengths and weaknesses. Himself, of course, with armor-crushing warhammer and defensive magic. The twelve mercenaries, all armed with a variety of hand weapons and reinforced wooden round shields, able to form a solid line and a shieldwall. Dio, hardly a fighter, but a good scout with his birds and a passable skirmisher with a dagger in times of dire need.
Mitsy, a lightly armored fighter. Strange weapons, but ones with runes in them. Proficient with physical weapons and possibly magic, like himself? And how drunk
was she? Likely best if she skirmished along the sides of a frontline, like Dio. Wild strikes in the middle of a line wouldn't do.
The unnamed woman with the hat and the hairpin. Now that he got a closer look at her, just where in the hell was her damn
weapon? What was she going to do? Take out that hairpin and brandish it like a sword? Ha! She surely
walked with confidence, and she knew a considerable deal about the arcane. She had to be a mage, if an unorthodox one. Good. Perhaps unorthodox was just what they needed. And more magic to round out the martial.
Then there was the traditional mage, Faurosk, making light of the situation with Mitsy. Perhaps he could scry or divine something about the mists and any possible dangers, perform some scouting like Dio. Knowing the enemy was as important as having the skill to defeat him. Or, Trajan so preferred, Faurosk would be versed in a discipline of destructive magic, and be able to deliver punishment from afar. Whatever his true talent, more magic to the group would be a welcome boon.
The red-haired woman. Rainie. With the bow. And the...lute. Trajan pinched his eyes shut and grumbled, a low rumbling sound coming from the back of his throat, as he finally noticed it. Why...on
Arethil...did she bring that thing here? What was her plan? Serenade the xeno
monsters no doubt lurking in that godsforsaken mist to sleep? But at least she had the good sense to bring an actual weapon too. And she seemed to be getting along well enough with the hat-woman and Faurosk. A solid backline of invaluable ranged prowess appeared to be forming among them.
And then, just as he thought he was finished, another woman approached. Gods, with the gambling. Was it not enough to simply risk one's life in this venture? Kalianna, she said. She had a rapier, a fine weapon indeed, one that took no small amount of skill to wield effectively, and...a violin. Unbelievable. Not only was there one, but now, there were two. Were Rainie and Kalianna somehow misinformed about what exactly was happening here? Regardless, both Kalianna and Mitsy seemed far better skirmishers than Dio, and could likely hold the sides of a shieldwall if need be. Better that than for her to be in the back, lest she distract Rainie from her archery with frivolous talk of a musical nature.
There. A makeshift formation in mind, should one become readily necessary. Of course, there would be no guarantee that any of them save Dio and the mercenaries would even follow orders from him. And why would they? They didn't know him. He would need to earn their respect. To show them that he feared no evil that lurked within that mist. To show them that he was proud to stand by their side. To show them that he would lay down his life for any single one of them, by virtue of the sacred human blood that coursed mightily in their veins and beat like the drums of holy war in their hearts.
That he was their brother, and that they were his sisters, his brother. Whether they knew it or not.
And so Trajan, holding the Emblazoned Sun in both hands now, became the first to begin walking toward the distant mists.
"Come," he called back. "There's work to be done. And Kilo will return to us soon. We ought to be ready."
The twelve mercenaries followed after him. And Dio, as he passed the women and Faurosk, leaned toward them and said on the go, "Giant, magic, flesh-eating
monster. Gonna look like an overgrown lizard. Count on it." He pointed at them all with both index fingers and winked, then caught up with Trajan and the mercenaries.
* * * * *
Kilo was scared.
But he flew anyway.
Right into the mists.
Something was wrong here. A base instinct telling him this. Even with Dio's augmenting enchantment, Kilo couldn't understand what was wrong and why. But fear was universal.
All Kilo knew was that he needed to see. And he couldn't yet. Not so high up. So he flew lower.
Dead things. Nothing to eat anymore on the trees.
Humans. Four.
Heart beating with fear and flight.
Heard something. Friend? Mate?
Kilo started flying toward the sound.
'I said careful, okay?'
Kilo turned around. Flying back the way he'd come.
Heard something. Friend? Mate?
Kilo started flying toward the sound.
'Careful.'
Kilo turned around. Flying back the way he'd come.
Heard something. Friend? Mate?
And Kilo was flying in circles now. Unsure. Torn. He didn't know what to do.
And he was scared.
Himitsu Rainie Faurosk Madame Valkery Kalliana Romane
Night was closing in on them. Valthar dropped to his haunches and held his gloved hands over the crackling fire. He wouldn't usually have been able to get one lit here, they had the unnaturally still air to thank for that.
