(East side of Everbridge) You Sir, are an Idiot. (11th Board)

After the annihilation of all their "forces" those that were lucky enough escaped from Racksom and the new Surahnian Masters to the Everbridge. With their hasty retreat they did not stop for a week, and have now finally come to something of a proper rest on the eastern side of the grand Everbridge.
Tensions run high though, the complete disarray of the battle has not been forgotten. Nor have the lives and land lost to them.
So now it's time to have it out and discuss their plans for the future. The cold wind of misfortune that has blown on the DDC of late needs to change if they are to keep their fragile home. The only way to protect it, is to fix their own fragility and they know this.
But how?

Setting: A heavy downpour has recently occurred, for now rain is light and drizzly, more rain will be sweeping in later tonight.
They are all based in an encampment (...of sorts) at the eastern bridge end. Some are starting to divide off back to their home towns or report back to the Capital.
This board starts at 3pm in the afternoon

Posting Order:
---Talos (Aero)
---Tegan, Lyrian, Mask (Tegan)
---Atleon (Eldarwen)
---Armeno (Artemis)
---Rose (ElizaFlame13)
---Jackdaww & Measle (StormKatz)
---Lena (Taj)
---Hone (Rogue)
---Zayela & Dorloan (Tourin)
---Ericius (Echoingscreams)
---Sandy (Monty)

Today was the sort of drizzly awful day that most people would choose to stay inside. The sky was a uniform dappled grey that constantly dropped rain just light enough that there was no excuse for the refugees to not continue working on attempting to make their camp as secure as possible. And he used the word "camp" lightly. It was a rag-tag cluster of tarps stretched out over scraps of wood that were more or less pole-like in nature. However, tents were in short supply and high demand, so a number of the refugees had taken to sheltering under the trees in the nearby forest, relying on the canopy and a wall of what personal items they could carry to shelter them from the worst of the rain. All in all, it was a miserable experience, and nobody was smiling.

The cross to get to the bridge had been full of its own hardships. The citizens that had fled the city before the battle had truly gotten under way were a little more prepared to be out on the road, and that's where most of the shelter and food had come from. However, after the battle had been decided and most of the Defenders had fled the city there had been no end to the harassment that followed the ragged bands of fleeing troops. Mostly it had been small attacks, enough to leave some of their men behind dead but not enough to take out the whole force. A steady trickle of refugees continued to swell their numbers, and by the time they got across the Everbridge, Talos estimated that their numbers were now a few hundred as far as people who could fight. A terrible number, considering that they started off with quite a few more when the battle had finally opened. The loss of life was astonishing, even more so when time passed and there was no word of anyone coming to relive them. They could only continue to run toward the capital and hope that someone in Didienne had answers or at least a plan. Though he wasn't sure if there was punishment awaiting him, for in the heat of battle and the broken attempt at a retreat Atleon had gone missing, and he hadn't see hide or hair of the rogue Prince since Racksom.

At the moment, they were doing their best to block off the bridge from intruders, which meant that any number of trees up and down the coast of the inland sea were being felled and piled on the bridge as a blockade. Talos had squads of twenty watching the bridge at all times, and another thirty patrolling the perimeter around their large and unorganized encampment for intruders. Not that they could probably do much to prevent an attack, but it was the thought that counted sometimes. Occasionally the twenty on the bridge had to move aside some of the logs to let more refugees pass and make their way into camp or further in order to escape. He was one of those twenty, taken to pacing on top of the feeble barricade and using his uncanny day vision to keep a far-reaching eye on the plains, always waiting to see a black mass on the horizon heralding the arrival of the Surahans. His hair was plastered to his forehead with the rain, his shoulders absolutely wet and boots soaked through, though managed to keep his bow and arrows dry by sheltering them under his wings. A miserably day, but he wasn't going to be caught off guard just because he was miserable.

(( OOC: Tatsu will come in later ))

From above the clouds came the form of a dragon. Flying a little awkwardly, and not in a normal pattern, it seemed more like it was having trouble staying in the air. The drizzle and the grey sky created a sort of mask over the dragon, which if you looked closely, had something on its back. After flying for a week straight, it was natural for the beast to be tired. A sharp angled descent caused the beast’s wings to fault slightly.

Heading straight for the ground, there was a loud thump as the dragon hit the ground, wings flaring just before impact making it lighter for the creature. Unluckily, it was not so smooth for the passenger. The rider of the dragon tumbled off the creature’s side, doing a summer sault after hitting the ground pretty hard. Sitting up and sitting dirt out, the elf coughed and looked around. They hadn’t landed that far from the bridge, and there entrance had been a little bit of a scene.

Tegan didn’t move as she squeezed her eyes shut waiting for the throbbing pain in her chest and ankle to subside. She coughed more, only making the pain worse, so she gave up waiting and instead reached out to her dragon. “Lyrian?” she asked. Even her mental voice sounded kind of harsh to her own ears.

“Best landing ever,” Lyrian replied, curling her injured tail around her left side and her head that way too, laying it down in the grass. Wings, with small punctured holes from arrows, lay gingerly on the ground as well. Neither dragon nor rider cared to move at the moment.

A hole opened up a little ways into the forest, and from it there produced a cloaked man. Hood pulled over a dual masked face, and a sword at the man’s side. On the man’s back was a bow and quiver full of arrows. As the hole behind the man closed, he slumped against a tree, and a single arrow was left the ground. The man reached down and put it away before turning his attention to the side he’d apparently chosen much by mistake.

In all honesty, he hadn’t meant to pick either side. More he was just defending a woman in trouble. An avian to be exact. Or at least he was pretty sure it was an avian. He surveyed the humans around him, a few giving him weird looks for his masked appearance, and way of entrance. Still, he’d make due with what he’d done. After all, he was pretty sure he could still pick either side. He figured it best to start with this one, learn what he could, and then decide which side he was on later. Although, the way those other had acted, he was pretty sure he’d chose this one anyways. They seemed more protecting that conquering. That was especially evident in how they were all worn out right now.

The ride away from Racksom had been a long and exhausting one, taking every ounce of strength the prince had left within him, even though he tried to rest once in a while. Some ways along the road, Atleon had broken off a piece of the arrow so that he at least had the feeling he had done something but he knew it would be better for a healer to take a look at this rather than him pulling out the arrow himself. He would have done it, only he had seen too many times what kind of irreparable damage could be done by such an action. He trusted in Siofra’s skill and knew she had not damaged him permanently apart from a new scar he could add to the ever growing list, but he could nevertheless injure himself quite a bit if he tried to rip out the arrow himself at the angle it was sitting. After all, she had hit him from behind.

The heavy downpour from the previous days had finally transformed into a light drizzle, not enough to make anyone immediately wet through and through but enough to be very annoying on an already gloomy mind. Atleon could only imagine what he would have to face, the shouts, the insults, the many injuries and deaths but he had done what had needed to be done. However, explaining that would probably cost him even more energy than it was already now letting the whole battle and everything in connection with it play back in his mind. They had lost a lot, probably too much, he could not deny that and neither could he deny that he was partially at fault. Then again, nobody else had known what had been hidden within the towers of Racksom and he was not quite sure, he was prepared to let on that secret.

Shetan whinnied silently to announce to his exhausted rider that they were not alone any longer and Atleon lifted his head to squint ahead into the mist, which was slowly lifting off the ground as the rain was evaporating. They were nearing Everbridge, of that much he was certain, and it seemed as if there were quite a few people here. When Atleon finally saw just how many people were there, his heart lifted for a few moments. Not as many as he had hoped but still not as few as he had feared. When he began crossing the bridge, a few people were calling out his name, some with surprise, some with hope and of course there were quite a few expressing their grudge as well. However, no matter their sentiments, they hastily removed a few logs which were barricading the bridge to let the prince pass.

The camp looked sad but the citizens had done a very good job at providing as much shelter as possible for everyone. It gave Atleon hope that there was still a chance to save these people and offer them a better life. Upon seeing the faces of the children amongst the people however, the prince’s face hardened. There were quite a few people who would get an earful. How could they not have listened to him? How could they not have set up their defenses when he had been gone for weeks after going away for a quick inspection? Why had Racksom not been in the least prepared for the onslaught?

The farmer twisted his hand and managed to remove his opponent’s weapon from his grip.
‘Well done, Conrad,’ he praised. He had arrived at the makeshift camp with Sandy not long after it had started being set up. The journey had been thoroughly unpleasant for him once the after-effects of his much-needed energy boost in Racksom had set in- burning pains in his muscles, lethargy at times, dehydration... However, it was nothing he hadn’t had to deal with before, and it had been worth it to secure his and Sandy’s lives. Now, he was recovered from the violent fruit he had eaten, and he had begun training his ‘cavalry’ the moment he had been able. He had been able to scrape up twenty-two fighters, and horses for them to ride. Mostly he had been trying to get them used to basic fighting and the idea of slaying another man. They’d done very little on horseback.

The elf had no idea how the DDC had managed to get themselves in this position. What had happened to the famed Elites; the Guardians of legend? Why hadn’t they charged gallantly to the people’s defence as it had always been assumed they would? Armeno thoroughly suspected that the islanders had grown too relaxed in the many recent years of peace. More relaxed than he would become even if he were the last being on earth and had no attacks to fear. Constant vigilance was something that his training had drummed into him thoroughly, and it was a natural instinct for him as well. Armeno was on the lookout for somebody to blame; Talos, for instance. The avian didn’t seem like he should have been in the leading position at all, and the elf hadn’t yet pinned him down to demand what had gone wrong. Not that he didn’t know the situation anymore; the time he had spent in the camp had been long enough to glean the information off anyone he could.

Now though, the men he was training had had enough and had to go and do duties around the camp anyway. The elf hadn’t really got permission from anyone to train them, but as he had suspected, nobody cared enough to stop him.
‘Alright, we can stop now,’ he announced to the motley assortment of farmers and other makeshift fighters. They looked slightly relieved and piled up their weapons at Armeno’s feet. He covered them with a spare piece of thick, tough fabric to protect them from the worst of whatever may befall them and weighted it down at the corners with rocks before walking away, sighing heavily as he did so.

Mud, mud, mud, it was everywhere! It was one of those weeks where it had rained quite a bit overall and now everything was muddy from roads to forest paths to people's doorsteps. Sadly the only way to her house that was still passable was now a blockade of some sort with lots of refugees on the other side of it. She had long since pulled on her cloak and she was soaked to the bone from riding in the rain. She sat shivering in her saddle, her whole appearance made her look like a "dead woman walking". She had heard of the battle at Racksom and she guessed that these were the unfortunate people who were on the less-than-victorious side.

She had only been away a few days how could so much have happened?! She knew the answer already at any rate and didn't bother with more questions to herself. The reason she had left town was to pick up a special book in a larger city. The only real weapon she had with her was her bow and two small daggers. She had yet to actually find a blacksmith to make her a sword, or saved the money to pay for said weapon. She stopped her horse and glanced around for a way to bypass the blockade but her travels had worn her out and the last thing she wanted was a fight when all she wanted at that very moment was to get home. She got down off her horse and walked it up to the barricade despite the mud. She wasn't very sure exactly what to say, and by the time she had an idea all she could ask was, "May I pass?" in a soft voice.

Through the gloomy rain, off to the north side of the camp, a shape appeared – silhouetted against the clouds beyond. As it approached, it finally resolved itself into a dragon and rider pair – neither of which were in the best of conditions.

Jackdaww, the man, looked deathly pale, and was shivering uncontrollably from the damp. A gory patch on his trouser leg showed signs of an injury from the attack at Racksom, and one side of his face was crusted with blood from a slash to the cheek. Measle, the dragon, looked little better, with one wing hanging limply to his side, but at least he could stand. They had been seeking aid ever since the battle, days before, and now that the rain had gotten under their skin (or scales) even the messy camp seemed like heaven.

Jackdaww made an effort to sit up and plaster a smile on his face as they sloped into the camp, and the sword at his side glittered in the half-light. There weren’t many swords around, since they were really a bit of unnecessary and expensive luxury, but Jackdaww’s own had been used often enough since it was given to him. Now he was hoping to lend it to the DDC army, but in his current state he would be no help. Measle staggered a little under his weight (for he was carrying his rather useless human at that point) and tried to find a spot to settle down in until they could address someone.

This was the kind of miserable day that Lena would pace around her and Talos' small home in an overly anxious sort of way. But whatever spare energy she might have had before was spent, gone in constantly moving and keeping look out so as to avoid an ambush. The last couple of days she had spent hardly getting to talk to Talos, either keeping watch or he was or she was resting. For whatever reason rebuilding her strength did not seem possible and it frustrated her. She saw Talos keeping watch now, his hair stuck on his face and his clothing nearly soaked through. She walked up quietly to him, standing at his side and looking out into the distance as if she almost expected to see something.

Lena found herself at a loss of what to say, so she simply put a hand on his arm, hoping it would convey the words she couldn't seem to form. This was rough, on all of them of course but Talos had a lot of responsibility on his shoulders. People looked to him for advice and guidance all day and he hardly ever got the chance to rest. What made it worse is Lena was starting to get a longing to see her child, the buried maternal instincts that rested within her picked the worse time to surface.

Apart from the rain making everything horribly dreary (and the people pretty antsy with it), the dull weather made it damn hard to get somewhere quick without getting stuck. A small patrol of Elites had been using the road from Tarz to Racksom, slowly travelling across the island over the past few months, simultaneously making their faces known and sorting out any little scuffles they happened across on the route.

As they had drawn further away from civilisation out in the Everplains, things had quietened down immensely, and they had just been left to their task of moving general supplies from one city to another. It was mostly just menial goods, food stocks and supplies, along with a small stock of armour for the few Elites stationed in Racksom to use on the odd formal occasion. The plan was to get to the city by the end of the week- but of course, things had changed dramatically in Racksom. Not only would they never get to the city because it had been seized by the Surahnian Rebels, but the cart they had been transporting all their goods in had got well and truly stuck in the mud.

“Two push the cart from behind, two pull it, on my signal.” The lead Elite organised the rest of his group around the cart, putting the two dragons in front to tug on the wagon and a human and himself, an avian, behind.

“Wait, what ‘bout me?” a chipper voice came from behind the cart, then a brightly coloured face appeared over the side of the cart as none other than Hone jumped up to see her patrol leader over the top.

“Erm… I have a special job for you Hone. Why don’t you scout ahead and see if you can find us some shelter? This rain’s miserable.” He shot the dragon an unconvinced smile, but she had already given him a jaunty salute with one wingtip and set off down the road.

It didn’t register with the naïve dragon at all what the refugee settlement camped at the Everbridge was, even when she got close. Some sort of big gypsy camp without the fun? Its inhabitants definitely needed some cheering up, and she stuck a big grin on her face as she marched into the camp, poking at the armour faceplate she wore with one claw, the metal stamped with a DDC shield. It was a pain to wear in the rain, but she had been made to, and she was secretly quite proud to be able to wear it anyway. It wasn’t every lash dragon that got accepted into the Elites (mainly because new recruits for the specialised force were few and far between, and finding more than one lash dragon up for the job was rare).

The dreary faces she passed offered little hope of somewhere the rest of her patrol could shelter, and when she started to hear angry taunting voices following her footsteps she changed direction, heading back around to the north of the camp. Oathbreaker? Liar? Backstabber? Why were all these names suddenly being catcalled at her?

Fed up of all the abuse, she broke into a run, glancing behind her to see the angry few who had gathered behind her to watch her retreat. The ground was slick with mud though, and as soon as she diverted her attention she was on the ground, sliding onto her side with a squeak of surprise. She probably wasn’t the first casualty to the mud, and definitely wouldn’t be the last.

Now thoroughly embarrassed, she got to her feet again, trying to wipe her scales clean with one wing, which just stuck her feathers together and made herself look even worse. She looked around for a little help and her eyes settled on what looked like a friendly pair- a dragon and a rider, looking just as icky as herself and –thank every star and god up there- smiling.
“Hareet, hey! Canst help? Us Elites are lookin’ f’someplace t’shelter!” she called, slipping and sliding her way towards them with a big grin on her face. They looked friendly enough; if they didn’t know, she was sure they would be able to point her in the direction of someone who could help.

Guest

(OOC: First time doing a plot, be gentle?)

There was a loud splash as Zayela hit the water of the river. She splashed around playfully, oh how she loved water. The rain drops pitter-pattered as they fell on to her wings when she surfaced and she couldn’t help but smile. She loved this rain, even though it was only a light rain. Zayela looked up into the sky, studying the clouds. “It will rain harder tonight for sure,” she thought to herself. She swam along the river thinking of nothing but the cool flow of the water on her scales. She decided to dive under the water and take a look around. There were no fish to be found so she couldn’t have a snack which upset her because she was quite hungry. When Zayela resurfaced she saw the Everbridge ahead of her. Maybe the people crossing it would think she was a river monster, she giggled to herself. But she looked to the east of the bridge and something caught her attention. The humans had built a camp, if you could call it that, not too far from the bridge. “Hmmm, I wonder what the humans are up to now. Maybe I’ll go take a look.” With that Zaleya climbed out of the water and took to the sky, flying in the direction of the camp.

The rain washed over Dorloan’s face as he looked up into the sky. “What an amazing day.” He looked around to make sure he was alone, because he realized he had said that aloud. The rain thrilled Dorloan, it gave him energy, brought out all of the natural scents in everything, and oh how he loved that smell of fresh rain. Dor was headed east, he had overheard some ruffians in a tavern talking about some strange goings on and he, naturally, wanted to investigate. He had figured his route up and the next major waypoint was Everbridge, he needed to cross it to have any hope of getting to his destination. Walking through this forest all day in the rain had tired him out a bit and he hoped that he could find some place to rest soon. As the tree line broke he spotted it, Everbridge, but there was something strange going on. What Dor could only describe as refugees from their appearance were crossing the bridge heading east. What had conspired here that so many people were left like this? It must have been terrible. Dorloan had to see what was going on here. He picked up his pace to a run until he caught up with one of the people. “Excuse me sir,” he said, “but where exactly are all of you headed?” The turned to look at Dor and was a bit shocked by his attire. “You must not be from around here mister, I’ve never seen any folk around here wearing vestments like that. We’re all headed over the bridge to the refugee camp on the east side.” Dorloan was puzzled but gave the man a bow and said, “thank you sir.” He took off in a run to the other side of the bridge to see what was afoot. In the distance he could hear the faint sound of wing-beats.

He heard Lena’s steps before he felt her hand on his arm. Glancing down, he afforded her a small smile in hopes of easing her worried expression and put his arm around her slim shoulders in a half hug. “The good thing about the rain is that it should make it hard on anyone tryin’ to come this way over the plains. All the mud’ll slow anybody down.” There was a silver lining somewhere if you dug deep enough, and Talos had now become well-versed in digging deep and bringing out that last little bit of strength that had been hiding away. He felt the same longing for home that Lena did quite keenly, and would have liked nothing better than to spread his wings and take off for the sunny shores that they had made their home on just east of here and to see Oriana again. Absently, he wondered how the little girl was doing and how Mai was handling the extra child with her two twin boys to deal with. The longing feeling got worse, so he abruptly stopped thinking about things that were impossible and concentrated on keeping watching instead. Just in time too, for several things seemed to happen at once.

With his keen vision it was no trouble to make out Tegan and Lyrian winging into camp, rough around the edges and obviously tired from the battle and the trip to successfully escape it. He winced when the two went down in a spray of mud, almost taking flight to go see if the two were okay, then others appeared out of the mists. They’d had travelers passing through the bridge all day in a steady stream, but this one caught his eye with particular interest, and immediately he felt his chest clenching with restrained anger and had to clench his jaw against the urge to shout. Atleon had finally arrived. Alive, but looking just as beaten up as the rest of them, though somewhere along the way he had lost his shirt. Seeing him coming, the others that were helping him watch the bridge started pulling aside the logs that would allow him inside. Standing still as a pole, Talos simply watched him come in from his high place on top of the barrier, giving no orders. Another woman came in shortly after, and he could hear her thin voice asking for entrance. Giving her a once-over with his eyes, Talos gave a short order to let her pass, figuring that the skeletally slim woman would give them little trouble and turned to Lena.

“Don’t stop me.” He said simply with a squeeze to her forearm then jumped from the top of the barrier, flaring his wings to cushion his fall and quickly strode with a purpose until he was walking along side the prince’s horse. “So nice of you to join us again, prince. We were worried that you'd died. Again.” He said in a voice that was probably too loud given their proximity, but he didn’t particularly care if anyone heard this confrontation. He had wanted to give the fool a piece of his mind for a good week now, and wasn’t about to shrug off the opportunity given the chance.

Tegan sighed as she looked around at all the survivors of the Racksom attack. There were a lot less than before, but at least there were still enough to create a decent defense force at the bridge. She cast her eyes around the group searching out anyone whom she remembered from the fight. Her eyes fell on Talos for a moment, watching him as he took off. She trailed his movements and saw who he was headed over to, Atleon. In a moment of possibly great judgement, she decided going to talk to either of them was a horrible idea. Instead she turned around from where she was sitting to look back at Lyrian. She needed to tend to her dragon before anything else.

Tegan carefully picked herself up, ignoring the throbbing pain of her ankle and rib cage. She still half wondered what part of the fight had resulted in a broken rib. Limping over to Lyrian she didn't bother to get any mud off her. "Hey," she said as she slipped into her dragon's see. "How are you feeling?" she asked running a hand over Lyrian's side. Lyrian's reply was a simple "Been better, but I'm fine. See if you can help anyone." Tegan sighed and pulled a sword out from her side. She put it point down, and leaned her weight into it. "Alright," she gave in after she was sure Lyrian wasn't going to let Tegan help her.

The elf hadn't has time to use any magic, and the healing magic she knew was only for Lyrian. Of course, she never really listened to her dragon, but she understood why she wasn't supposed to use her magic. It drained her, and at the moment she needed her energy. Resolving to speak to someone she spotted an again on the bridge. Was Lena what Talos had called her? Shifting her weight, Tegan made her way towards her. "Lovely afternoon, isn't it?" she said sarcastically when she reached the bridge. "Need any help?" she offered.

Mask sighed as he surveyed the area around him. It was full of mostly farmers and unskilled fighters. He hadn't really meant to pick a side in the fight. More or less he'd been trying to see what was going on. It just happened to end up those rebels had shot at him, so he figured he'd join DDC. Why not, they needed all the help they could get anyways. Besides, he'd rather join who he assumed could be the good guys. Or at least, maybe not so evil? Whatever they were, he wanted to help.

The problem was, he knew nothing about these people. Only what he'd learned in the fight, and that really wasn't much at all. That posed a very interesting problem for him. Either way, he needed to find out more about these people, and what better way to do that than staying right here and listening. Noise traveled, and it was easy enough to hear every ounce of everything, including the gossip that the men taking cover in the trees were saying. From what he gathered, this band, the DDC, were co ran by Talos and Atleon and this defeat was making people angry because some people called, Elites, hadn't showed up to help save them. And from what else he heard, these people were mear farmers, they had no skill.

A silent shadowed passed below on the lands as a silent dragon wung his way towards the stench of metallic sweet, blood. The young dragon wasn't entirely sure where he was going, but he felt like he needed to be somewhere. So away he went. The dragon's name is Tatsu, and he's of a breed known as a Life Blood Dragon. A free dragon to himself, but he was friendly to anyone he'd meet. He flapped his white red dotted wings and gained more altitude. He was starting to realize where he was and stopped, glidding slowly to the ground. Why was there the scent of burning and blood in the air by Racksom.

The fluffy white dragon curled his tail up slightly and then looked around unhappily. What to do, follow the scent towards the Everbridge or towards Racksom. He cast a glance in both directions before picking the Everbridge. Opening his wings again, Tatsu launched himself back into the air and headed towards the Everbridge. He followed the water once it came into sight and skirted away from the roads or anyone who could see him. It was only when he noticed Zayla did the dragon decend to the water. "Hi," he said happily and wagged his tail.

Even though he had been expecting it, when Talos suddenly appeared by Atleon’s side and rather loudly began accusing him of making them fear for his life once again – obviously in a far more sarcastic tone than was necessary – the prince felt a surge of anger mount up inside. Only barely could he retain the shout he was about to let lose and counted down to ten within his mind. It was not the avian’s fault that everything had gone down the drain. Yet, he did feel unusually personally attacked by this statement, which under normal circumstances he might just have waved off as nothing. First however, he chose to ignore the avian after a brief glance to take in the man’s rather wet condition.

As the prince let his eyes roam about the camp, he glimpsed a few familiar faces here and there, relieved for any personal acquaintance to have made it out alive. There were not too many of his previous round of politicians around, which made him wonder where they had all disappeared to, whether they were dead or whether they had joined the rebels’ ranks. It was a frightening thought, but Atleon knew very well that politicians were easily swayed when their hide was threatened. The refugees looked more or less taken care of but a lot of them were in desperate need of a healer, which made Atleon’s hopes sink of having someone properly look after his arrow wound. For a brief moment, he realised how ridiculous it was that he was still running around shirtless with an arrow sticking out his back, but he had gotten so used to the throbbing pain that he had managed to drive it to the back of his mind. Other things were more important.

It was only after a few minutes that he turned back towards Talos and finally replied to the avian’s accusation. “Nobody cared before when I was in Zartear’s hands for a month. I’m surprised you find it necessary to accuse me now for merely doing my job when it was of no matter to you before the battle.” Atleon laid particular focus on the word you to remind the man that before the battle, he had not even existed on the map of Racksom and did not have a lot of insight into what had been going on within the city walls until he had apparently appeared out of nowhere to claim leadership of the citizens of Racksom while the prince was being held capture by Zartear and his rebel army. The ‘we’ the avian had used was a word a new recruit such as Talos should really not be using so deliberately.

Not wanting to pick a fight however, Atleon refrained from saying anything else even though his mind was filled with things he could tell the avian. Atleon was grumpy, he was hurt and in pain, stiff, thirsty and hungry, he was cold and he could feel the sickness sneaking into his bones and now Talos was trying to be a nuisance, but rather than giving in to the urge to vent his frustration, Atleon kept looking around until he found a spot where a few horses were being taken care of by a group of younger boys. He waved one of them over, all the while trying to ignore Talos for the time being for both their sakes, and the boy immediately hurried over with a hopeful look on his face. Dismounting with a grunt, as the movement gave him a painful reminder of the arrow sticking out his back, Atleon handed the reins to the boy, his face lighting up as he took them. “Would you mind taking care of Shetan for me for a while?” he asked the boy in a gentle voice, the latter eagerly nodding his head. “Thank you,” the prince replied, patting the boy on the back, who was probably glad about any opportunity to do something other than think about what he had just been through.

Atleon briefly noted a flash of red stalk into the camp and quickly hurrying away again as insults were shouted after the dragon. Something about that dragon seemed to trigger a thought, he was not quite able to catch, so he dismissed the notion again and turned his attention to the woman who had come into the camp merely a few steps after him. She had not come from the same direction he had and neither did she look like she was a refugee, which made the prince hope that maybe, just maybe, she was from somewhere nearby and could provide information as to where they could find more provisions. Even from just a quick glance around the camp, there was clear evidence that the low amount of provisions would not last them very long. Still thoroughly avoiding glancing in Talos’ direction, the prince approached the woman.

“Excuse me, Miss. Would you happen to know where we could buy more provisions for these good people?” He knew he would have to pay for his behaviour, but he was not ready to completely face Talos, knowing what it would result in.

She pulled her hood down, seeing as he has called her 'Miss' there was no reason to hide. "I live on the outskirts of a small village not far from here. I- Hold it, how long has that arrow been in your shoulder?" she demanded quietly. "I'll show you were you can get supplies." She didn't really have much of an idea of who this was, but he had an arrow in his back and that wasn't natural! "I have some supplies at my house that I'm not using as well, and these people need them more than I do. Follow me I'll show you where the town is. Use the horse if you like I'll be walking."

As the lash dragon rushed up to them, Jackdaww sat up as well as he could and pulled another lopsided grin. Pain lanced up his leg as he shifted, and he felt sure that it was broken, but he could practically smell civilisation again – the camp must have been nearby.

“I think we’re almost at the DDC camp – I’m sure you could join us. It sounds like it’s that way.” Jackdaww said, pointing south. Then, as another wave of pain rushed up his leg, he fell silent. Measle, however, had been listening a little more carefully.

“You said ‘us’. Does that mean that there are more of you? And if you came from that way, you must have already seen the camp. You’ll probably have to find Talos, presuming he’s still in charge, if you need somewhere for the rest of you.” he explained, ignoring the throbbing in his wing. “And I’m sorry, my manners are a little worn after Racksom, what can we call you?”

Jackdaww nodded, and repeated Measle’s question like a puppet, before shifting uncomfortably on his back. The smooth scales of Measle’s spine were very slippery, and he didn’t like the idea of falling – even from Measle’s modest height.

Lena smiled slightly when Talos tried to reassure her and she stood comfortably under his arm, looking onto the bleak grey landscape that they had come to inhabit for the time. She missed their small home on the coast and like Talos, thought it easier to just stop thinking about it before the longing grew too painful. She watched as the people came into the encampment, listening to people yelling here or there, including Talos and then a particular known face came into camp and she felt Talos go tense. Atleon was here. She looked up to him for a second and could swear there was a tick in his jaw as he stared down the man.

When Talos told her not to stop him she was confused for only a second until she saw his direction. He was honestly going to pick a fight with the man now? She sighed, rolling her eyes, she was all for a good brawl but now was not the time. If they really did begin to fight with more than words, it would look horrible to the people who looked up to them for leadership and advice. If their leaders couldn't hold themselves together after a defeat why would they follow them anymore. With a dry look she stood where Talos left her, watching the two walk to the stables in between looking out onto the landscape to keep watch. She'd only go against Talos' wishes if it came to blow, and she had a bad feeling it might.

That had been her plan before a strange woman had approached Atleon and Talos and strange people during these times was never a good sign. Or at least something not to be taken lightly. Asking someone to come take her spot, Lena opened her wings, letting herself gently slide to the ground, and walked over to Talos’ side to listen to what was going on, but enough to give him space if he so wished it.

Ah, at last, a happy face! Hone grinned back cheerfully as she came to a halt in front of Jackdaww and Measle, oblivious to the fact that mud was still dripping off her feathers and she was in an overall terrible state. Well, it was the little things that made a day good, right?
“Aye, I jus’ came through t’camp. They didn’t seem geet happy; what’s gaarn down?” She turned to look at the sprawling mess of tents behind her, pulling a face. She was sure she could still see the faces of the angry people who had been following her- or were they hiding somewhere, waiting for her to come back so they could laugh at her muddy feathers? It wasn’t a pleasant thought. “Y’know what, that sounds like a geet good plan. Imma stick right near y’here, like this.” She positioned herself as close next to the dragon and rider pair as she could get, her damp feathers rubbing up against the small lightning storm’s side.

“Hm?” The lash dragon’s ears pricked up at Measle’s question and she nodded fervently. “Aye, there are uhm… five of us?” She held up four claws, ever the one for getting her maths wrong. Then she checked them and held up two more claws, mouthing the numbers as she counted each one carefully. “Yeah, that’s right.” She shot the pair another smile, her head fins twitching underneath the top of her faceplate of armour. “I dinae know any Tay-loss though, who ista? A dragon? Is he t’leader of all this? He’s got an awful lotta people t’look after, ain’t he?” Her eyes slid over the length of the camp in front of them, surprised at how big it was. This was a much bigger than she had ever seen travellers use before- more like a town than a traveller’s stop!

As they started forwards into the camp again, Hone took particular care to avoid the most slippery patches of mud, eyeing the marked patch where she had lost her footing before with narrowed eyes. Like the mud could benefit from such a dark look. “I’m Hone, lash Elite an’ awesome protector dragon o’those that need protectin’,” she said, voice proud. “Awesome, I’m. Hoo’ista?”

Guest

As Zayela took off into the air she heard a voice behind her. She turned around and to her surprise she saw her friend Tatsu. “Well hello Tatsu, it’s good to see you. I’m off to this camp on the east side of Everbridge if you would like to follow me. What are you doing around here?” Zayela turned back around and began to fly in the direction of the camp. Maybe there was something fun to do there. Playing in the river had gotten boring. She didn’t really care if Tatsu followed her too much. Although she was pretty sure he would.

Dorloan came up on a barricade on the bridge. He looked up to find someone of authority. He saw a flash of feathers as he looked up, but only for an instant. “May I please pass through?” The guard on duty motioned for the logs to be moved and Dor moved through. He was looking for someone of authority. He needed to know what he could do around here to help. These people were in very poor condition and with all of his magic there had to be something he could do. As he walked along the bridge he spotted an elf leaning on what seemed to be a sword or something of the like. Long brown hair flowed down her back; it was full of debris and grime. She must have been in the battle at Racksom. Her ears pointed more of an outward angle than upward. So this was a wood elf. She was leaning all her weight on one ankle. Was she injured? “Excuse me ma’am, my name is Dorloan. You seem to be injured and I was just wondering if I could help.”

The sound of movement nearby was what brought the young girl round. Knowing there was no point in trying to get back to sleep, she reluctantly forced her eyes open to find herself lying on grass which had been trodden into mud. Her eyes caught the vision of a man patrolling what were now the boundaries of the camp. And from where she lay, she was on the outskirts of it.
With a somewhat unnatural movement she brushed the strands of wet hair from her face and sat up. Tiredness was still ebbing away at her and she knew that it would take only a good few days sleep to shake it all off. But of course, she didn’t have that – no one did at this moment in time. Comparing the light of the sky even though there was barely anything more than gray she estimated she had been out for roughly two or three hours.
Ever since her and Armeno arrived at camp, even though she had been asleep upon doing so, she had never been able to take a normal rest. Any moments of peace lasted a few hours tops and even then they were interrupted by her own thoughts of conscience. The few days, at least, she thought it was days, they had been here, everything was mixing into one big blur. She had barely spoken to anyone upon arrival. Come to think of it, she barely recorded thanking Armeno for practically dragging her to safety. Maybe she had, she didn’t know. She didn’t know anything.

With the strength she had just gained from her little nap, Sandy made her way over to a corner of the camp and stood just outside where one would keep look out. She wouldn’t really communicate with others, she would just get on and do what she felt best for the camp. After all, she didn’t really regard anyone as able to take charge. What had been ‘charge’ back in Racksom had resulted in slaughter. Now they were just a group of beings trying to survive. At least, that’s what she told herself.
Her main fear was that someone would recognise her as being the rider of Silverwing from the battle. If that happened, then there would be no doubt in abuse as to why such a precious beacon of hope would abandon people at their utmost time of need. Explaining herself wasn’t something she wanted to do, nevermind the fact she didn’t have the energy to back herself up. Or make something up for matter. Of course, she had a rough guess as to where he had gone, but after what had just happened, guessed weren’t exactly of any use to anyone at this moment in time.
So, there she stood. Vision facing out across the mud and into the murky distance to find any sign of life whether it be defenders or a possible threat. There she would stand until something came up or someone came over to her. In which case she would hide her face and pass the matter on.

Last edited by Aero on Wed Oct 26, 2011 1:46 am; edited 1 time in total

He was prepared to be yelled at, argued with, and generally just have a fight with Atleon. What he hadn't been prepared for however, was to be ignored, and that set his teeth on edge more than the scathing and vaguely sarcastic biting words that the prince had to give Talos. So focused on trying to get a say in, he didn't even noticed the arrow in Atleon's back until the man turned on him, heading the opposite way with the obvious intent of ignoring the problem the avian posed until he simply disappeared or bent over and let his royal ass have his royal way. Arrow or not, that's not how this was going to go down. More than anything, Talos wanted to know how Atleon was going to justify getting their men slaughtered, only to loose Racksom anyway. The "soldiers" had been under his when their shaky footy had resulted in the route from the city, and the grieving of crying women and children who lost their men had haunted his nights the whole trek from Racksom to the relative safety on the other side of the Everbridge. He was going to get answers.

His latent anger took a strange turn when the thin scraggly woman (an elf, by the point of her ears) offered to bring Atleon back to her home. Immediately he could feel his feathers ruffling at the thought of letting the prince out of his sight again, and rudely stepped forward so that he could not be reasonably ignored by either the woman or the prince. "No way." He said with all of the authority he could muster, staring daggers at the woman. "Last time I let this fool outta my sight, he went missin' for a week an' came back half naked with holes in him." He gestured angrily at the arrow, letting his pointed gaze flick to the prince briefly before returning his attention to the woman. "And last time I let somebody offer their help she shot me in the back an' near killed me. Nothin' personal, but I ain't about to trust you farther than I can throw you, so there's goin' to be no leadin' anywhere. If you wanna bring over some supplies, fine, but I'm sending armed men with you just soas when there's an ambush at the end of the road at least they got a fightin' chance."

"And as for you!" Talos turned his glare on Atleon if full now, very nearly poking him in the chest with a pointed finger of righteous fury. "Where did you even go? One minute you're orderin' everyone around an' then you up an' leave without so much as a word or orders left behind. By the way, that turned out bad, in case you missed it. Yanno, mass slaughter kind of thing. We ain't got a fightin' force left anymore because of you and your damned pride. We shoulda left when we had the chance! Now look! Really look! Buncha soaking wet refugees is what we are now with hardly a copper between the lot of us. An' all we've got to show for it is a city that ain't ours." He could go on forever about how this was mostly Atleon's fault, practically shaking with rage as he was, but he ran out of breath which left a significant pause in his developing rant.

((OOC: This might help people out so they don't have to read things that don't pertain to people. Tegan's talking to Dorloan, Mask shall walk in on Talos and Atleon's Convo, And Tatsu is with Zayela.))

Tegan yawned to herself and leaned back on against the edge of the bridge. She kept her body from bending too much as she did this, and kept her sword off to her side. They seemed to have the whole guard thing under control, so she wondered what else she could do. Carefully, she put her hand to her side. She was still annoyed that that female had gotten a hit on her. She had liked this shirt too, which was going to be a pain to fix later, but at least the gash was healed to a scabbed cut. She was about to head back over to Lyrian who was growling at anyone who came near her, when a voice she hadn't heard before reached her.

She wasn't entirely sure why she cared so much about this person. After all, most people here she didn't know save a few. Still, she stuck around and was interested when she had. A man who looked more elf than human had asked to pass through, but Tegan sensed something about him that wasn't exactly elf nor human. She watched him, and he seemed to want to speak to her anyways. When he spoke to her, her first responce was to laugh. He'd asked such an obvious question, which could have been answered just by looking around. However, Tegan controlled herself after a few moments of laughing enough to smile warmly at the stranger. The elf was possibly a little too trusting in the end, but this man did seem like he actually cared somewhat.

"We're all injurred in one way or another. I'd guess you'd be hardpressed to find someone here who isn't save fore yourself." She stopped for a moment and realized she'd forgotten to speak her name and sighed. When she spoke again, her tone was apologetic. "Forgive me," she said, "My name is Tegan. I'm the rider of the Autumn Dragon who is currently snapping at that boy trying to help her..." She trailled as her eyes stayed on her dragon. Lyrian wasn't normally like this. Turning back to Dorloan she offered a slight smile. "As for offering to help, were're just trying to set up camp. We're the survivers of Racksom," she said as if this was something obvious. "I'd say go speak to Talos or Atleon," she gestered to where they were, "but it looks from here like they're ready to start a fight in the mud."

Mask watched the people of the camp and listened as the went on speaking. One conversation he found perticually interesting was between the Avian and the man on the horse, and the elf girl. Oh and look, another Avian had joined the fray. A female whom he recogized as the reason he was here in the first place. He snickered to himself. It had been worth his lost arrows then, good. Feeling his stregth starting to return after his teleporting trick. He pushed himself up and watched the world spin for a moment, before he leaned against the tree next to him heavily. He honestly looked like he hadn't been in the fight at all, and he had forgotten what he was wearing. Turning around he blew a sharp loud whistle into the trees, knowing the mare was somewhere around to hear it. As strange as he always thought that was.

When he was sure he could walk, Mask left the trees and headed over to the group. There had been one thing that had sparked his interest in that conversation, and that was that they seemed to have a money. Well, what better service could a rich boy provide than a deep pocket. Mask had no issues with money at all, and that included with giving it away freely. He had more than he knew what to do with, and with what his father had set up, there was no issue with it running out either. He could hear Sorrahkin's hoofs in the distance already, so he wondered up to Talos and Atleon, Axel and Lena. "Pardon me," he said softly. "I know you would probably not recognize me, for in all honesty I wasn't really interested in joining on the fight at first, but I couldn't help but hear you have money issues? I believe I have a solution to that." Mask smiled under the masks that he wore. He had completely forgotten they were still on.

Tatsu's tail wagged when Zayela spoke to him, and he had been about to fold his wings on his back when she opened hers. Slightly annoyed he leapt back into the air, shaking his small body off as he floated there. He took extra care to hsake his furry paws four times each. He didn't want to have to deal with wet paws. Although, in the rain had it really been worth it anyways. The minute he handed he'd be coated in mud, and the thought of that annoyed him when he looked down at his perfect white fur.

Sighing, Tatsu raced after Zayela. He didn't find it too hard to catch up with her. She was fast though, but they were about the same speed. There small sizes played a role in that. When he finally caught up enough to her he gave a lopsidded grin over to her. "I'm here because it smells like blood," he pointed out worriedly. "And I wondered if I could do anything to help out maybe. People could be in pain, and that wouldn't be good." He frowned thinking to himself for a moment. "How about you, what are you doing here?"

Just as the prince was about to reply to the woman’s kind offer, Talos rudely let his anger burst out and began insulting the stranger as if it had been her fault that Zartear had set foot onto Dragon’s Cove in the first place. The more Talos spoke, the darker Atleon’s face grew with anger. He had never declared himself as protector of the innocent and nor would he ever, but speaking to someone offering their help, even if one didn’t trust them, in such a manner was quite simply and inexcusably rude! No wonder, most people seemed to have turned their back on the defenders when they needed them most. If they all had been treated in such a manner, then it was no surprise that nobody had stood side by side with them against the Surahnian rebels.

Taking a deep breath to calm himself, and to try to ignore the suddenly throbbing pain in his body, Atleon wanted to interject but quite obviously, Talos was not yet done, but on the other hand, turned on the prince now. With a shrug towards the female, he mouthed an apology while giving a vague hand gesture towards Talos, hoping she would not take this too badly and that she would not retract her offer. They needed all the help they could get, no matter how little the avian trusted her. Armed men would have been sent along with her anyways, but apparently Talos was not willing to even give Atleon, who had been addressed in the first place, the chance to reply as he still kept the raging words flowing.

True, Atleon had thought the avian had spirit and fight in him, he still did, as the man was now proving it, but apparently there was a lot the avian didn’t know – manners foremost! - and he was now looking for someone to blame, and who better to blame than the one person who had not been around and had then not done how the avian had wanted things to be handled. Atleon was not one to look down on people, on the contrary, he preferred to give everyone a fair chance and let people at least try to rise to the occasion, but this? This he did not need to hear. Not from someone who just suddenly appeared on the map and thought he could be fearless leader for a group of people who should have been much better prepared than they had been in the first place. Yet, Atleon refrained from saying all of this out loud. This was neither the time nor the place. The refugees needed taken care of, and so did he. In addition, they had a full-out war to prepare for that nobody in Dragon’s Cove had been prepared for. And yet, when the avian continued, Atleon simply could not stand there and not retort.

“Are you done now?” the prince asked silently, his voice cold as ice, when Talos finally stopped to take a breath. “Are you done blaming me for every single thing that has gone wrong over the past few weeks? I know that I have made mistakes, I know that I am responsible for more deaths than have been necessary. But who are you to lay every single burden onto my back? Where do you think I was when Zartear began marching on Racksom? Who has been in charge of Racksom while I was held prisoner? Who was in charge of the battle while I was trying to get out of my precarious situation? Who was the one apparently preparing the people for battle?” Atleon did not want to do this but the avian had asked for it. Neither Talos, nor anyone else was to blame for what had happened but the man definitely had overstepped his limits. “Tell me then, why were there no better defenses? Why were there not additional and more efficient traps set up around the walls? Why were you even defending Racksom when you knew so very well that the people of Dragon’s Cove would not stand a chance against the invading force?”

Glaring at the avian, he added, the tone clearly suggesting that it was an order: “Don’t interrupt me again!” And with that he turned towards the kind woman to finally properly reply to her: “I apologise for his rudeness but I thank you for your offer. Do not worry yourself about the arrow, it will be taken care of eventually. If your offer still stands, which I would very much appreciate, I would ask you to please…”

Before he could finish his sentence however, yet another person joined in on their conversation. A masked man. There was no way Atleon would recognise him with so many layers covering his features but the prince was willing to at least hear the man out. With a sideways glance at Talos, who certainly would have something to say to this, he was sure, and he also knew that he would just start babbling again anyways, no matter what, Atleon addressed the man: “Would you be so kind as to remove your mask? It might help in recognising you, which for now, I do not. But please do continue with what you have to say.” He was sure that Talos would yet again have something to say to this, but the prince wanted to hear what the man had to offer before he sent him away again or started insulting him. The defenders needed all the help they could get and they could not afford to be too picky about the people who chose to help them. As long as they were honest, Atleon was willing to take his chances, which also reminded him that he took quite the chance leaving a particular chest to someone else. Where was Armeno? And where was Sandy?!

Walking towards the tree he had tied Velox to, Armeno sighed and reached into his pocket, taking out the length of green ribbon he had stashed there. He twisted it between his fingers, counting back the days since the battle in Racksom. There was still plenty of time for anything at all to happen before the meeting he had scheduled with Kassandra... He knew that every bit of his training would advise him against going, but he hadn’t for a moment considered that as an option. His only question was how he was going to return to the beach without deserting DDC. And he was particularly sure that Talos wouldn’t be keen on him trying to recruit Kassandra after she had attacked him.

Armeno slipped the ribbon back into his pocket and looked up at Velox. As he did so, a movement in the air caught his eye, and he glanced at it to see a large pair of brown wings descending swiftly, a man attached to them. He stood staring at the now-empty air for a few seconds before making a decision. The elf quickly tacked up and jumped onto Velox’s back, tapping the horse’s sides gently with his heels and pushing him into a brisk trot. He made his way through the camp, nodding to one of his men who was chopping wood for one purpose or another, and swiftly made his way to where he had seen Talos land. Armeno swung off Velox’s back and strode forwards leading the horse.

Atleon seemed to have just finished speaking to Talos, giving him a glare as he turned away and addressed another woman. Armeno, apparently unnoticed for a moment, waited while he spoke to both her and the masked man before intervening. Ignoring the other two and also his manners, the grabbed Atleon by the shoulder and pulled the prince round to face him, attempting to cause minimal pain from the arrow which had likely healed into his back by now.

‘Right,’ snapped the elf. ‘Neither of you know me properly, but I did live on Dragon’s Cove for several years. I left fairly recently and came back just in time for Racksom, and it looks like a good thing I did. I’m sure you’re both equally to blame for this, and I doubt you’re the only ones either, but that doesn’t change the fact that either of you could have been far more helpful in stopping the Surahnians than you have been. When I left, Dragons Cove was still a peaceful place and had been for centuries. That doesn’t mean you let yourselves become weak. You need to constantly be on your guard. I’ve been immersed in fighting for seventy years, and trusting peace is never a good defence. Anyone could betray you. There doesn’t even need to be betrayal; this attack came from outside. And where were the elites? Where were the guardians? For heaven’s sake, where was the army?!? Atleon, you should have been on this from the beginning. Talos, you had plenty of time to change things after he was captured, but instead you let an army of farmers who may as well have been armed with bunches of flowers try to fight off Zartear’s entire army! Is there nobody on this island with the slightest bit of common sense? If you can’t fight, you flee! You don’t sit there like you’ve lost your legs, waiting to be killed by the enemy!’ Armeno’s rant paused at this point as he wondered if the expression ‘like you’ve lost your legs’ translated well into common. He wasn’t at all sure that it did; he’d never heard it used before.

While some new person was ranting she looked at Atleon. "My offer still stands. Now excuse me while I pulverize this angry little child." She rolled up her sleeves and decisively aimed a right hook for the avian's cheek. "You little brat how dare you insult me like that?! In all my years I have never seen someone with such poor manners!" Her face reddened in anger and she had to resist her urge to throttle him. "You need a serious lesson, boy. Sooner or later someone is going to seriously hurt you over your attitude." She decided enough was enough and glanced at Mask. "Oh...Didn't know you'd seen that..." her face went from red with anger, to red with embarrassment. She recalled the last time she had traveled with him there was tons of trouble along the way, including a bite on her leg from some kind of mutated wolf. "S-So how have things been, Mask?"

“I’m Jackdaww, and this is Measle. And it’s… not exactly a traveller’s camp. That’s the refugee camp from the battle at Racksom. We’ve been looking for it for days.” Jackdaww sighed, realising just how badly the DDC army had been hit. He realised that Hone must not have heard yet, or something along those lines, and decided to fill her in a little.

“Talos is the leader of the army at the moments, and Racksom was a big war. I guess this is everyone who made it out.” He said, as Measle plodded into the edge of the camp. Across the muddy camp, the he recognised Talos, and saw him arguing with two others that he hadn’t met. He decided not to disturb them, and whispered into Measle’s ear to just wait at the edge for a while. Then, with a mammoth effort, he pulled his broken leg over to Measle’s other side, and slid down to the ground.

Measle sighed in relief as Jackdaww got off his back, and nodded to his shoulder for him to rest on. Jackdaww leaned against it gladly; his broken leg curled at a slight angle that stopped it touching the ground. It felt like it was on fire, but he tried not to think about it. After all, he had just arrived, and didn’t want to show himself up by cursing too loudly.

Ripping a strip of fabric from the hem of his already tattered linen shirt, he wiped most of the blood from his cheek, and forced his eye open again. That cut had as god as glued it shut for the last few days, but now that the rain had softened the scabs over it, he could see again. It felt good, which was more than he could say about everything else. He felt defeated – war hadn’t been as glorified as he had expected, and he was regretting offering his services. It was too late to withdraw them now, though, so he just had to sit back and enjoy the show.