As they move off along the trail, Crethe takes a moment to glance back towards the bridge.  "I don't think I'll miss that place.  Even a few days living out here, ambushing enemy scouts and avoiding the larger groups... well, let's just say the novelty soon wears off.  Even faster when the weather's as bad as it's been."  A look up at the sky, "Though it's a bit better today.  A sign that things were going to improve, I thought.  And I was right."

"Ah... "

There is a footprint in a muddy puddle on the trail.  Similar to the ones that Daley had found close to the enemy camp.  The ones belonging to whoever had annihilated the enemy force there.  "Looks like somebody else was going the same way we are.  Friend of yours?  Whoever it is, they aren't trying to hide."

The trail continues for about an hour and, just as described, it comes to a slow moving river, perhaps fifty feet wide.  On the far side is an area of open ground, where a fortress stands, just barely.  The walls are crumbling and tilted crazily.  Festooned with ivy.

From here, hidden among the undergrowth, there are no sentries visible, but there is a thin column of smoke rising from inside the walls...

He listened to Crethe talk about old things, agreeing in his heart too easily for his own good. Yet she was right. Things did improve.

The path led them on. Aaron frowned when they came upon the footprint. At Crethe's comment, he shook his head. "No friend of ours, as far as I know."

They moved onwards, sun slowly passing its way over Arden's canopies. Soon he heard the river and, stopping, saw the fortress beyond. A careful, practiced gaze told him much of its good positioning. There were no soldiers about, but the place wasn't empty, either. Viewing the fallen fortress, he was spontaneously reminded of a song he once heard, and lightly whispered:

"Dancing once upon the way,
Alight such pose as toes might stay,
Her form so frail yet belle just-so
for the Demon in the Ivy."

He snorted, gesturing out at the ruins beyond. "We happened upon a grand slaughter before coming across you, dear heart," Aaron said quietly.  "Unless it was you who did the slaughtering, odds are good our target or targets are there."

Crethe's face falls, saddened by memories.  "There have been days when, I'm ashamed to say, rage took hold of my heart and I committed great slaughter upon those who would kill me, venting my frustration at my condition upon those who, while admittedly enemies, neither knew of who I was in a former existence, nor of how that existence ended."

She looks towards the fortress, and adds, "There is recent blood on my hands, but only from the deaths of lone scouts or small patrols.  No grand slaughters."

A pause then, as Crethe considers, "As I recall, although there is a ford here, the river is shallow and slow for some distance upstream.  If we head that way, we can cross out of sight of the fort, and come upon the place through the green."

"Rage happens."  Luke shrugged.  "Trite, but true.  Aaron can attest to that.  Myself?  When I was wronged, I raised up an army of my family - those who thought as I did - and assailed the walls of my father's fortress." He studied the keep before them, rocking back and forth on his heels. "We lost, of course; my father didn't even have to get off his bloody throne.  But we killed a lot of people I called friends and cousins.  I don't regret spitting in dear daddy's eye, but the killing?  I hated him for that - for not stepping in.  He could have crushed us with ease, but no, he left it to his children to fight it out."

"And I hated myself, too."

He hummed a brief tune, then shook his head.  "You killed enemies, girl.  People who would have killed you, but people who didn't know you, who you didn't know.  In a way, that's lucky - you don't have the good memories of time with them to keep alive the memories of how their faces looked when you cut them down."  Hard, almost brutal words, delivered in a quiet, musing tone.

"It's a damned shame, but let it go," Luke advised.  "You weren't a monster, except on the outside.  You were in a crap situation, and things got out of hand.  Well, the universe goes on.  You'd better do the same."

He waved ahead.  "I like your idea.  Let's take that route, and we'll see what's what."  With a grunt, he hefted his axe.  "I'm feeling a little cranky at the moment.  Bad memories, mind invaded, this curse business...I'm starting to see why the old bastard sometimes gets an itchy talon for the Smite button."

Aaron snorted. "When we all hate ourselves, all we have left is each other." He reached up behind his left shoulder, Ilsefranvir sliding from the sheath there, hefting its familiar weight. He placed his other hand on Crethe's shoulder and gestured in the direction of the river. "Lead the way, beautiful. Let's see if we can crash this party."

"Beatiful!" Crethe shakes her head and starts to lead off along the bank of the river, "Though given my previous appearance I suppose I shouldn't find that description surprising."

"And I hate myself far less than I hate what made me into a monster."

The short detour allows them to cross the river  at a point where it is only inches deep, though the far bank is steep and a little treacherous to climb.  Soom they are back and approachint the crumbling fortress from the forest side.  Through a break in the collapsed wall they can see a campfire, and a figure sitting by it.  He looks human enough from this distance and angle, and seems to have his back turned.

A large cooking pot is suspended over the flames, and as they watch, the man stands, revealing that he isn't entirely human, as few of those have tails, and helps himself to some food, taking a small taste and pouring the rest back into the pot.  Then he sits down again...

"That's the spirit," Luke muttered as he walked. "But you people...so concerned about what you consider to be 'beauty'.  Your standards aren't 'beautiful', your standards are 'perfection'.  A tiny mark, a refractive plane a touch off-angled that prevents the exact same colours at every angle, and you devalue a diamond because it's 'flawed'."

He snorted. "Slavish conformity to standards doesn't exactly celebrate the unique.  Do you all honestly want to be sheep?"

Upon their arrival close to the campsite, he squatted down and studied the distant figure. "I could run a check on it...in fact, I will.  Something passive, though, so I won't tip them off to our arrival," he murmured.

The creature pushes a little more wood into the fire.  Then, a few moments later, it starts whistling quietly, a slow tune full of long, drawn-out notes.  Mournful sounding...

"Not a happy camper, this one.  He's from hereabouts - far enough that his world doesn't have a trade treaty with Amber, but this area to be sure."  Luke pursed his lips. "He doesn't seem too pleased with his lot at the moment.  A touch depressed, perhaps."

His eyes narrowed. "Also there's a bunch more just on the other side of that wall of the fortress, there.  Same sort of thing."

Aaron narrowed his eyes in thought. He hadn't anticipated a situation like this, but perhaps they could make the most of it.

"Curious. What are the odds of us convincing them we're friendly?" He shook his head. "Somehow, I doubt I'm getting out of this one with only a kiss."

Crethe chuckles quietly. "It might work at that.  I've not seen his like before, so they might be new here, and not altogether sure who's who.  Mostly I've been seeing those red skinned things that've been all through this area."

She shifts her weight a little, getting more comfortable, "In any case, we know he isn't alone, so they don't have surprise working for them, and trying to use it might work against them, simply because we won't be as surprised as they might think."

"If you carry my sword, as well as your own, they'll think I'm unarmed and harmless.  Then, if any trouble starts you just pass it to me, and they suddenly have an extra fighter to deal with.  And walking into the camp with an unarmed woman at your side makes it look like you're not expecting any fighting."

Nodding, Aaron slowly rose, extending a hand for Crethe's blade.

"I'd like to leave here with more allies than I arrived with. Luke, monitor us from here and we'll see if we can put ourselves in an advantageous position. If not..." he trailed  off with a shrug. "Otherwise, we'll try to hit them hard and fast and hopefully not make too large of a mess."

Aaron and Crethe move forward, while Luke hangs back to keep an eye on them.

The two make their way across an area of broken stones which marks the fallen wall.  Of course silence is difficult to maintain on such a footing.  A stone turns underfoot, Crethe stumbles, and the cook rises quickly and turns to face the source of the sudden noise, drawing a long knife as he does so.

He makes no move to attack, though.  He stands staring at the pair, his face human in appearance, save for the eyes, which are golden in colour and have slit pupils.  His tail thrashes and twitches behind him, like that of an irritated cat.

The head tilts to one side, and he speaks, "Who be ye, strangers, to walk into our camp unannounced?"

The question brings sounds of further movement, and occasional calls from behind the more intact wall to the right of the gap, "What be it, Gnecht?  Trouble?"

Aaron feigned surprise when Gnecht rose to question him. Holding Crethe by the arm with one hand and her sword in the other, he put on a hopefully convincing frown.

"What's this? I wasn't told there'd  be a detachment stationed in this area!" Aaron, holding Crethe's sword carefully between crossguard and blade, gestured to Gnecht with the pommel. He scowled. "Who are you? What are you doing here? Whom ordered you lot to bivouac here? Once this mess is all over, they and I are going to have words."

The man-like creature looks uncomfortable before Aaron's questioning, but stands up straighter.  "Adjunct Gnecht, currently I be commanding the Fourth Brigade, if'n ye can still call it a Brigade when there be only eight of us left.  Sir."  That last word hesitant and nervous.

"We walked into an ambush by unknown enemies, and we be all that remains of the Fourth, to my knowledge.  And as ye can see... " he gestures towards the others of his ilk, who still stand near the wall, and appear to be trying to straighten themselves up, except for two who still lay on the ground, "we be a sorry lot."

The others have assorted injuries, Aaron can now see.  One of them is even missing an arm, a crude dressing covering the stump, just below the elbow.  It doesn't seem to discourage him much though.  He salutes, wrong-handed, and announces, "Sorry though we be, Sir, we still be ready to fight for Amber."

"Doesn't exactly sound threatening to our purposes," Luke muttered, ambling up, hands in pockets.  Whatever weapons he had couldn't be seen. "An ambush by unknown enemies, though..." He eyed the group speculatively.  "Archons probably wouldn't have left this much of them."

Tempting as it was to issue some kind of command, he forebear.  Better to let Aaron keep his 'position' as the commanding officer and not muddy the waters.  "Too bad the old bastard isn't here.  He might have been able to heal this 'sorry lot', as they put it."  A snort. "'Tough guys', more like.  As your civillian advisor, Aaron, I'm quite curious as to any descriptions we can get of this unknown enemy." 

Teeth glittered in his smile.  "I still have that headache."
This message was last edited by the player at 15:19, Thu 09 Jan 2014.

When Gnecht announced that he and his group served Amber, Aaron visibly relaxed, dropping the pretense of command. His look softened as he took into account the difficulty these soldiers had suffered. He handed Crethe her heavy blade.

"Do not apologize," Aaron said, gently but firmly. He placed a hand on Gnecht's shoulder, meeting his eyes. "I apologize for being so stern. We too, encountered a threat on the way here, and were unsure as to your allegiance. Considering all you've been through, it doesn't surprise me that you feel the way you do."

He gestured further into the camp. "Come. Tell me more of what you've faced. Once we're finished here, I'll figure out a way to get your men out of this mess." He paused, then added: "Maybe out of Amber entirely, for some R&R."

Moving back, behind the fire, where the ruins provide a little more shelter, Gnecht and his one-armed companion seat themselves on the ground, and wait for their guests to do likewise.

"This be Folch, he be a good fighter, Sirs, likely the best we's got left."  The injured creature gestures with his missing hand, "Not likely the best now."  Perhaps surprisingly, he doesn't seem too distressed at losing an arm.

"We's been out here, fighting the Taurin.  Be ye knowing them?  Red skin, big, vicious buggers in a fight, hundred times worse in a dirty fight."  Grins from both Gnecht and Folch at that assessment.  "Doing good we was.  The Taurin be good fighters, but not like the Fourth Brigade, as was."

Then we was being jumped by some new fellas.  Blue skin, horns, strong as any three of us.  We's never been seeing them afore.  Wiped out half the Fourth, real fast.  Then hunted what were left.  We was trying to get to Amber, but they always be heading us off, pushing us away from the city.  They's not crossing the river, mind ye.  We's being safe here while we's thinking on what to be doing next."

"They won't cross water?" Aaron frowned in consideration. "We haven't encountered their like in these parts before, or anywhere else that I can recall."

The fact that his group had made it to the fortification without much trouble did not sit well with Aaron. He suddenly felt trapped, wondering if an ambush party was waiting for them in the forest beyond. <i>No use worrying about that now.<i>

"What did you notice about these blue people? How did their command and combat differ from the Taurin? How swiftly did they strike?"

It pained Aaron to probe these injured men, but if this enemy force had a way to strike at them beyond typical strategy, he needed to know, and fast. He wanted to be on the move, but it would take time and planning to get what was left of Gnecht's men out of here.

"It's possibly a strategic thing," Luke muttered. "The 'not crossing the river'.  Doesn't mean they're all vampires."  He paused. "Grave-scented parasites...never really liked them."

Pursing his lips, he studied the soldiers before him.  It was an interesting question...were they from close enough to Amber that he couldn't affect them?  Or is it possible that he might?  Of course, it would be pulling a trick rather like the old bastardBerd, but Luke figured he could pull it off.  Berd, after all, had done similar things some time back, and the dark-haired man was fairly certain he matched his father's strength at the time.

"I might be able to do something about that arm of yours," he muttered to the one-handed soldier.  "Could try, anyway.  And...you're probably better off getting assistance in a missing body part from me, anyway.  His methods -" a jab of the finger toward Aaron "- tend to be somewhat drastic."

"No offence, Sir, but I'll be thanking ye to leave my arm be."  The wounded Folch almost snarls at Luke.  "Injuries is a mark of pride.  Fighting injuries brings a lot of honour to a warrior."

"Folch's talking out of his rump, if ye'll pardon my speaking so blunt with the lady sitting there." Gnecht interrupts with a chuckle, "He's just thinking as how he'll be getting a nice fat pension for a wound like that when we's getting home.  Worse it's looking, more he gets."

"Aye, a thing like this is how ye knows as yer becoming too slow, and it's time to lay off the soldiering."

Gnecht considers the question of the enemy crossing the river, "I'm not knowing as they won't cross water.  I just knows as they hasn't crossed this water.  Yet."

"When we runned into them, they hit us hard, and fast.  And dead quiet.  When we was fighting the Taurin, we could hear and see them giving orders.  First job were always to be looking for the ones doing the ordering, and take them down."

A shake of his head, "But these new fellas.  They didn't seem to be passing orders."

"Were like they was all knowing what to do, all the time."

"Aye.  Even when things was changing, they all knew right away what to be doing about it.  We tried changing how we was fighting, and they all knew right away what to be doing about it."

Aaron ignored Luke, for the most part, though he was glad to have his outlook on things. It kept him from becoming narrow minded.

When Gnecht described the tactics of their enemy, Aaron clenched his eyes shut, rubbing the oft-broken spot between his eyes with his fingers.

"Their command structure does not surprise me. Quite the opposite. I should've seen it coming." He opened his eyes, looking at Gnecht. "How many of your men are in well enough condition to leave?"

"All of them can be moving out.  Them as can't walk can be carried." Gnecht confirms, "We was waiting here yo see if'n we couldn't pick up any stragglers.  But we's been here four days now.  Don't reckon as how any more of us is going to turn up.  Not now."

"Ye should know, mind, that if'n ye was thinking of going downstream, ye'll be walking into a hornet's nest.  That end of the woods's swarming with enemy troops.  Like they's meeting up ready for a big shove."

"Fair enough."  Luke raised both hands in a peacekeeping gesture.  "Far be it from me to get between a man and his retirement...a soldier, no less.  I'll just leave you as is, and you can head on home to relax on a beach somewhere."

He considers the discussion as it flows back and forth, ambling over to seat himself near Crethe.  But not too close.  Aaron seemed to have taken a shine to the woman, and the last thing Luke wanted was some kind of jealousy springing up.  Unwarrented, of course; he had no interest of that sort in humanity or its various reflections, despite the stories people had told in the past.

It wasn't even a disgusting thought; just completely irrelevant.

The revelation of the enemy's structure and their methods of battle...well, no real surprise, if they were of the same order that had assaulted Luke's own mind.  It wouldn't be difficult for a group mind to communicate in such a fashion, and with a small number reading the minds of the enemy, all would be aware.  Fairly clever.  There were things Luke might do to prevent it, but that would depend upon how strongly they weighed within reality itself, and how close this world lay to Amber.

The old bugger could do it, no doubt,  but Luke?  Maybe not, the man conceded with some annoyance.

"Better have them get gone," he muttered.  "Or Folch won't much like the retirement he receives.  This is going to get messy."  And for sure, Aaron was better suited - literally and figuratively - for such conflicts.

One hand brought out an object roughly the length of his forearm; it caught the light of the sun and threw it back in a fractal rainbow, all broken and dancing.  The hilt of a sword, its guard modest, its blade slim and only a handspan in length before a break.

"'Cleft song'."  Luke pursed his lips. "Might be able to do something with this after all."
This message was last edited by the player at 13:19, Mon 20 Jan 2014.

Aaron frowned. These men had been beaten hard, but not hard enough to be out of the fight, it seemed. He couldn't afford to throw them to the wolves, and he wasn't willing to put them needlessly in danger.

He saw Luke unsheathe a blade made of rainbows and sighed.

"Alright, Gnecht. We're getting the hell out of Dodge." He wondered how, though. This far into Arden, how far were they from Amber? Would it be faster to Walk them to the position of his troops? "Get your men together. I'm going to work out how we're leaving this place."

Aaron moved to Luke and Crethe, then. "This isn't going to be a walk in the park. With their wounded, it won't speed us up any," he said quietly, crouching before Crethe. "I'll have to sit for a few minutes to get a good sense of our position relative to Amber proper. Maybe I can Walk us out of here, but I don't like the idea of someone getting a bead on us if I try."

He looked to Luke and Crethe, then. "Any thoughts?"