Rebellion

[Celesarn]

Marcus looks down at Myth and nods (despite his knowledge that his sister will not see the motion), and then takes off after Peregard. He had not meant to follow the little one, but North is the best direction. He is no master of tactics, but he has learned how not to be seen, and for that, he needs trees. Knowing that the fox follows closely behind, Marcus holds his walking stick firmly like a weapon, prepared for any enemy the Halfling in front may stumble across.

 

[vl.arandur]

While you four flee northward, the rest of your army rouses itself to charge southward at the unseen enemy. It's not so much a charge as a scramble, though, and you hear the sound of arrows hitting bodies shortly thereafter. Your run north into the woods, though, is without incident, and you are able to escape safely.

The wood extends a mile or so northward before the tree line ends; Anfalas is five miles to the east (though there's no guarantee that you'll be safe there; the People's Liberation Army is not often well received by the genial elves, and they would not be displeased to hear of its apparent demise).

 

[Ranoras]

Lorem trudges onwards panting heavily. After his aching legs tell him to stop, he leans against a tree and takes in the scenery all around him. His falcata still is still held limply at his side.

"Hey! Peregard!" the crow man huffs out. "What's the mission? Open it up and read it."

Lorem slid down the tree more onto his bottom, and rubbed at his joints. He wished he had stretched before hand. It'd been a while since he ran for his life.

 

[toncinap]

The half-elf woman plops down a save distance from the crow man, trusting that if he chose to betray her, her reactions would be quick enough to stop him dead in his tracks.

She begins thumbing at her bow, though she is looking around slowly and with utmost caution in case this place is not as safe as it appears to be. She does not come off as scared or paranoid, however, though there is a pinch of exhilaration when she chooses to speak: "Yes, scroll barer. Let us see what the next goal is while the army we were trying to achieve it for burns from arrows through their skulls."

 

[Tim4488]

Peregard glanced around himself, making sure that there were no obvious enemies, at least. Satisfied, the halfling stood with a tree to his back, removing the scroll and unfurling it to see what mission they had been granted by their dead sergeant in a mostly-dead army.

 

[vl.arandur]

Fellow citizen:

Your mission is as follows. Travel as quickly as you safely can to Fyrras-helm. We desperately need more fighters, and the dwarves have been exceedingly recalcitrant. It's all right for them, high in their marble halls... in any case. Speak to Lord Dofeni Godskin. Convince him of the desperation of these times. Convince him that he must send us an army. If he will not be convinced, then go among the people.

Should you fail, it could mean the untimely end of our opposition - and our way of life. Go swiftly.

- T

That's the only way he ever signs his missives: "T". Everyone always simply refers to him as The General. Referred, rather.

 

[Celesarn]

Catching up just in time to gain the information, Marcus leans on his walking stick, now glad that his restless hands had found it before the attack. Myth emerges into view behind him and bounds back to his master's side.

"So, then" gasps Marcus, but, never having been one to voice the obvious, he doesn't complete the question on everyone's minds, looking instead to his sister for support. Life had a tendency to crash down around the two of them, but it was always Caratra who pulled them forward to the next task. Now, standing in the midst of the trees, he feels already the stinging hollowness of a plan failing to unfold, and his mind searches already for new options, new things to do, to think.

And one thought does come to him. What a shame, he contemplates, that that insufferable pigmy Theadric never had the courage to take me on. Being beaten to the kill never was a fulfilling feeling.