Nathaniel Fenastus's Story

The Black Legion had been quite busy before advancing on Orlay. The smell of death and burning flesh had marked the insides of Shawn's nostrils, but this time the scent brought him no smile or sense of pride in a battle well fought. No, this time it was his own clan that lay dead in defeat, for the first time, decimated as though one thousand battles had been waged, defeated as though they were children waving sticks at men. They had been chased from their lands, and taken in by another clan so long as they bore that clan's name. It was a dishonor worse than death, and many refused to take it. Those who refused dishonor and still bore the name Holyfield had stood one last time as the Legion pressed onward to the walls guarding the cowards who relied on magic to defend themselves. The Holyfield had no intentions of winning this fight, but rather to break the Legions ranks and make it to Orlay, as they had one thing the clans did not at the moment... people. Shawn was the only one to survive making it through the walls, some of the archers of the city itself claiming a few of his clan, and it took much strength to swallow the hate in the interest of defeating the greater enemy. Shawn would rally the clans to burn this city to the ground when the hellspawn had fallen, as his hate would not be repressed long past that.

He had been surrounded after breaching the gate, with Shawn dropping to his knees and laying down his sword as a sign that he bore no aggression to Orlay right now, and considering he'd just driven down through the rank and file of the Legion, they decided to take him at his word and allow him refuge, so long as he swore to fight for Orlay. He agreed and reclaimed his blade, silently bearing the shame of his actions, almost glad his clan was gone so they could not see how far their Battlemaster had fallen in the face of a strong enemy. He was fitted with a suit of armor, but Shawn refused to wear it aside from the piece that covered his chest. He left his back uncovered as was his clan traditions, since no warrior should be injured at their back unless they flee battle, and to do so is punishable by death. Scarring another's back was the highest insult amongst his people, though he wondered how many in Orlay bore that mark.

After a day or so of submitting himself to the orders of the Orlay guard, he heard rumors about a quest that could save the kingdom, which would mean it could kill the Legion. Shawn abandoned his post to take to the woods within the boundaries of the Great Wall, and found a bear to slay. He did this without the aid of any blade or club, using only his fists to bludgeon the beast to death, and carried the corpse back into Orlay with him, to the Palace where he planned to demand allowance on the quest he'd heard of. Many gave him strange looks, more so outright fled in terror at the sight of blood, which caused Shaun to sigh in disappointment. The weakness of these people was beginning to become more sad than comical, and it ceased to be entertaining in the growing shadow of the Legion. The guard stopped him from entering the palace, which prompted Shaun to lay the corpse at their feet, saying he wished to go save Orlay, and brought this offering for the King so that his skill would be known. He dared the guard to find a single cut in the bear's flesh, proud of the fact it had been killed with just his hands. Reluctantly he'd been allowed through, the guards promising to give the bear carcass to the King themselves, which made Shawn smile for the first time since he arrived in this strange place of weakness.

He pushed his way through the crowds of people and found himself face to face with some sort of wrinkled hag, her eyes refusing to look at anyone as she spoke, relying on others to carry her words.

"This King?! Can no talk without minion! Weak city doomed. King not worthy of bear... should killed donkey" Shawn said in a shameful tone as he was directed to a place on the floor, marked with strange symbols, which confused the barbarian. Magic was foreign to his people, and saw practitioners as weak for being unable to fight or defend with their own strength. Lo and behold, to his left was just such a mage, a healer it turned out. Shawn looked the scrawny whelp over and sighed, sitting down and placing his head in his hands.

"Your clan allowed survival with such weak spawn?" He asked, looking over at the magic man with a look of disbelief.

As the Stargazers finished the last of the placements, the eldest among them called for the doors to be shut and for those assembled to be silenced. After a few minutes of effort on the part of the Stargazers, the voices were quieted down to a hushed whisper from one or two particularly rude members of the crowd. The silence was maintained for a few moments, till the Stargazers started to unroll an old scroll, part of which began to chip apart from age as it was unrolled. One member of the Stargazers came before the crowd to speak.

"I understand that with such a grand task, there are many among you who are eager to do what you can to end the crisis." He spoke loudly, selected among his peers for his strong voice and his ability to speak clearly, something often lost among the older and more reclusive Stargazers. "However, we have seen that it will be necessarily to send but a few warriors, chosen by the stars themselves. Sending more will result in disaster." He paused to allow a moment for those gathered to understand what he was saying. "As such, we will select you soon, choosing out those destined by fate to join upon this dangerous task. When you are asked to step forward, please follow along and stand up here." The Stargazer gestured behind him, where the highest part of the flooring was, on par with the rest of the palace. It was an invitation to stand on the same ground as the Royal family, some more loyal citizens would consider it an honor.

The Stargazers were gathered around a scroll, where they whispered and discussed how to interpret the signs, after each choice was made, a young man or woman from their apprentices would be sent off to bring forward the selected. Kalad Ashchrom was the first to be selected, the young woman who came for him smiled pleasantly as she held her hand out to guide him. Then Shawn Holyfield, the young man sent before him gestured to the warrior to come up to the stage, far too frightened to make contact with the outsider. The Stargazers had brought before them: Rosaline, Django, Shurik, Bridget, Marielle and finally after a quick argument between the Stargazers, Nathaniel.

Each were told to stand next to the one selected before them, each was given bowed heads of respect from the servants to the Stargazers. An angry looking man wielding two swords left the spot where he was standing and started walking towards the group of selected, he spoke with fury in his voice, "You would choose such weaklings over me! That girl is barely a child! And look at him!" His face was red with anger and passion, deep feelings of betrayal in his heart. One of the Stargazers held out her hand in front of him, her voice was fearless, "You may not approach further. You are you leave immediately." The man drew his blade and struck her across the side with a single motion, having lost his senses.

Many would move to react, many would place hands on their weapons or start to take steps, but a whirling axe blade tossed from further in the room split the raging man's skull apart, his body dropping backwards towards the ground. As eyes turned to look, there stood the King, his arm outstretched from his toss. He stood up straight and continued to walk towards the group as attendants ran to assist the wounded Stargazer. The King's path lead him to stand before those that had been chosen, a severe look upon his face as he studied each of them intently for flaws and weaknesses. Even as he bore his gaze down upon him the Stargazers were encouraging the others to make their way out, and for those who would still see their bravery noticed, to make their way toward the Knight-Captains post. The city still needed brave warriors to defend it.

After a moment of quiet contemplation, King Albrect stepped before Kalad, patting the man on the arm firmly and grabbing on to the front panel of Kalad's armor. "You are the Ashchrom boy, all grown up. Good, you father once forged me a fine blade. I expect you to be forged with the same dedication he has always shown. A good man from a good family." The King nodded his head in approval, but kept his stern look as he moved down the line.

His judging eyes came upon Shawn, peering firmly into his eyes, as though they were two beasts in a staredown. Finally the King gave a nod of respect to the barbarian. "I received the bear. Killed with strong hands, hands I hope will give their strength to less hardened warriors." He paused for a moment to study the man, "And to crush the Black Legion." His eyes held firmly locked with Shawn's even as he began to walk down the line.

King Albrect looked upon Rosaline, the first softening of his facial expression came. "The daughter of Arthur Mellikot." He put his hand on her armor and gave it a tug, as older warriors were known to do with the young. "Shoot well," he patted the patch of her belly that lacked any armor to protect it, "and avoid a wound to the gut." Being mocked and complimented in the same was a difficult thing, but there was little choice but to accept his words. "Aim for the underbelly of the great lizards, arrows won't pierce their hide elsewhere." He continued down the line, his stern look returning.

Django fell before that deeply judging gaze, while the King stared down at the man as though he were a child being looked at for signs of guilt. "A swordsman, hopefully a brave one. You remind me of a man I once fought beside. Use you talents to guard my daughter well." He gave Django a firm pat on the shoulder and continued along.

As he came before Shurik Mad-Blade he seemed almost frustrated, he looked forward at the man with a deep scrutiny that he had not placed upon the others. "I will confess, I know nothing of you. My men tell me you come from the deserts to the south, I have never ventured there." The king placed his fist to his chest and made a firm pounding noise. "Use what skills you possess for this quest, ensure that the Black Legion falls. And perhaps, after this is over, you will be willing to tell us about your people."

King Albrect stood before Bridget his left hand tensed into a ball, his eyes slowly edged from a look of study to a gaze of anger. He reached out and grabbed her arm like a man about to scold a child. His senses seemed to take hold and he relaxed his grip and gave her a gentler pat on her arm. "I know your face, and it hurts my pride to have you stand before me, yet I cannot deny the need for those with your skills. You have killed many, yet all this will be pardoned if you complete this quest. You will find yourself rewarded." He paused as if to let go of something in his heart, "Bring my daughter back to me when the task is done and you will also have my forgiveness."

He stepped away from Bridget quickly, moving to stand far above the Sky Elf before him, "If you have received any ill treatment from my people, please forgive us, we are not used to meeting with your kind." He held out his hand to take hers and gently held it for a moment, "In Orlay, our elders are respected, and you should have received such respect while you were within our city. I will try to secure you a much more appropriate reception when you return. I thank you for coming."

Finally he came to the last, Nathaniel. He shook his head a bit when he came before the young man. "Youth and ambition often follow hand in hand. I do not know what role you will play in this tale, yet you are a part of it as destined by the stars. You are young, and were I choosing men for this task by my eye alone you would not be here. Do not take these words as insult." He grabbed Nathaniel by his armor and pulled at it to check it was firmly in place. "Regardless of age, you return as a man with full rights. You will bear the title of hero as mightily as any other."

The King stood at his full height, stepping before the group as a whole and looking over them. "Do you have any questions for me? Any thing you need to request or any clarifications I can make as to the intent of this quest?" His voice was firm and strong, possessing the refined quality of nobility and the strength of a veteran warrior. As he finished speaking, a young man came up and handed the king the axe he had thrown earlier, now cleaned of gore.

Watching as various people within the crowd were brought up to the stage, Nate's eyebrow is raised slightly when the brute next to him is called forward . The fates must have a interesting sense of humor picking one who could barely form a simple sentence, but at least the other candidates seemed more than qualified. However as the stargazers continued announcing names, the medic became slightly more and more anxious, a sensation Nate hadn't felt since he was waiting to be assigned to a military division. Something however caught his attention, something that was rarely seen by those outside the Stargazers rank , infighting. Which is why when his name was called, Nate couldn't help but feel slightly odd, so he decided to instead drown out his feelings by running a simulation in his head on the quickest way to deal with a plague....

Finally standing where he deserved amongst the others, Nate had a small grin on his face as he looked through the crowd of adventures still awkwardly standing in the throne room. The medic's happiness was cut short however as some buffoon seemed to take offense that he was not among the chosen. Thankfully it was of all people the king who was able to silence the man... with a axe to the face, a surprisingly effective way to deal with the problem. Albrect then began to make his down the line of the chosen, offering words of insight, kindness and possible redemption. Finally at long fast he reached Nathaniel and said a few words, most of which slightly offended the medic . His age should have nothing to do with his position in the world. His youth had been the reason he had been turned down several times from various promotions despite his intelligence. Though as the king pulled at his armour, Nate was a tad unprepared by the man's action and subsequently faltered as he pulled, causing Nate to have to reposition his foot to avoid falling.

"Thank you my liege. I will not fail you." Nathanial said as Albrect walked off, bowing his head in respect and remaining silent when the King asked if anyone had any questions. The task seemed straightforward enough.

Many of the Stargazers gather their things and beginning returning towards their tower, even with the importance of sending off the heroes, they have many tasks ahead of them. There are stages to this battle that go beyond what a commander can judge with his eyes, and to this end the Stargazers regroup to see beyond what normal men can see. They gather to tell of what will come, to serve as the King's wise advisers in the darkest of hours.

King Albrect is a strong willed man with the heart of a lion, but his body is aged and his nights have been restless, even as he stands before the selected heroes, expending his composure to appear strong before a tide of destruction. Many friends lost, many more still to lose, yet a King cannot afford tears nor sorrow. He lifts his hand, fingers gesturing to a woman standing far behind, a lady in service to the queen. The middle-aged woman turns and begins heading towards the inner part of the castle, where the royal family makes their home.

No severe questions came from the heroes, yet there were things that must be said all the same. After a deep breath and a moment of thought the king began to speak.

"No simple task awaits you in the west, there are many dangers, as I am sure many of you are familiar with. The Black Legion is marching upon us, and more of their numbers emerge with each day. Many of my men and women await for the beginning of this quest and they will give you the opening you need to make it to the cover of the woods. I ask that you honor their sacrifice, for they march out knowing they face death in leaving the city walls."

His eyes closed for a moment, as he pictured what he could remember of the paths beyond the western wall. His fist tensed as he struggled to recall a name.

"Many years have past since I once walked in the outer lands, my mind is not clear on the paths nor should I advise you on where to go when you enter. My daughter seems to feel the pull, her eyes sometimes drift, her attention absent as she peers off to something beyond out sight. Follow her gaze should you become unsure of the way to the Black Legions' lair."

He glanced over each of them, "You will have a short period of time in order to prepare yourselves, I had packs of dried food readied, bread and salted meat along with waterskins. It would be best not to take the time to hunt, unless need demands it. Every day it takes for this quest to complete is a day that we spend having to hold our walls. My generals tell me they believe we can hold against this siege for three weeks, I do not believe we have more than two. Rapacity is a virtue in this, mix it well with carefulness but dread to tarry. We place the fate of Orlay in your hands."

A woman, beautiful with a steady look appears in regal clothing, from her eyes it is clear that she has been crying though she has done her best to cover it up. Beside her is a younger woman, wearing plainer, yet still fancy, clothing. The first of the two is the queen, a necklace bearing the crest of the royal family intends to make it clear to those who would not otherwise know. The woman at her side is her handmaiden, a woman of distinction and scholarly wit. Behind the two, a small girl peeks out to see the strangers who have gathered in her home.

Neither woman says anything as they walk closer, nor does the girl, who swiftly returns to hide behind her mother. The King gives a brief glance behind him, hearing the clack of less practical shoes on the wood and stone of the floors.

"Here comes my wife with my daughter now, please forgive her grieving, she does not wish to see our daughter part from our arms. It is a thing of sorrow for us both, as I imagine any parent would feel. Excuse us for showing our hearts so plainly," the King spoke with a softer tone, his voice shifting from how he speaks to his subjects into how he speaks around his child and wife. "Have Mylina come over here, these are our champions, selected by the stars of destiny."

The little girl was lifted up by the Queen's handmaiden and carried over towards her father. Mylina desperately buried her face in the handmaiden's neck, hiding away from the unusual people who she was being introduced to. The handmaiden stood the girl beside her father and pressed a hand on the child's back with a whispered, "stand properly." The Queen stood back, watching from a short distance away, she did not wish to come closer as her heart was already pressing her close to tears again.

"This is Mylina. My only daughter. She was born with strange markings upon her back, circles and line with runes and other archaic markings. They were recorded and many have worked on deciphering what it means but to no avail. The Stargazers tell me that this is what will undo the bindings of the Black Legion and reduce them to dust before us. No other reason would I let my daughter part my sight were it not for the end that meets us should she not go. I am glad so many of you speak of dedication, and I ask that you do what you can to protect Mylina on the way there and back again."

The little girl's eyes glanced at each of the warriors gathered, her own mind barely understanding what was being asked of her. She had been explained that she would accompany them, but her young mind couldn't appreciate the importance of such a monumental task. Her eyes looked over each with confusion and fear, only a couple of them were anything similar to the people she was used to.

"Gather yourselves, your task will soon begin, follow my man," He gestured to a middle aged scholar who was walking into the room, "He will guide you to where we are getting ready." The King leaned down to hug his daughter, "Mylina, these warriors will guide you. Stay with them, listen to what you are told and try not to be afraid. I love you my child, I am sorry to ask you for so much."

The scholar gestured with a limp hand, "Right along this way," his voice was rasp and nasally with an unpleasant whine. He started walking towards a side courtyard where several attendants had bags in their hands to hand off and an armored man stood beside a small cashe of weapons and gear. A couple of younger ladies, hardly twenty, stood together holding several finely woven, and darkly colored cloaks, behind them remained the rest.

The Scholar spoke again, "Take what you will, if you need for anything else before you depart, simply let me know and I'll see if we can fetch it for you." His unpleasant voice did not seem to bother the attendants but one of the girls with the cloak seemed to cringe slightly as he spoke. His every word like fingernails on slate to her ears.

Minutes after the young princess was lead out by her father, held firmly by the hand. She was wearing a many layered dress of fine quality, and well crafted shoes for a woodland journey. She fussed over the rough wool cloak that covered her, the scratchy fibers were something she was unused to having to wear. Her father gave a stern look and she put her hands down, letting the cloak rest against her without further adjustment.

Lead into the small courtyard with the others, Nate was currently hard at work looking through the weapons presented to the heroes. The medic had rarely been anywhere near the front lines during his service to Orlay but now he would soon see himself charging through them to get into the vast forest outside his kingdoms walls. It also didn't help the only thing close to a weapon he carried was a pike which was mainly used to create a magical barrier for quick patch jobs on the field. Finding a small collection of short swords, the young man grabs a simple looking blade and pulls it out of its sheath to get a better look. Taking a few practice swings, Nate finds that it should suit his needs perfectly places the weapon back in its holster before tying the scabbard to his belt. In a similar fashion the medic goes and finds a buckler amongst a pile of shields and secures it to his forearm.

After accepting a cloak from one of the servants, Nate makes his way over to the small crowd gathered around the princess. While he normally couldn't stand children, Mylina was a exception. If what the stargazers had prophesized about her was correct, she appeared to have some connection to the legion's power source, which apparently also doubled as a compass for leading them towards it. The medic's curiosity was abuzz with questions though he doubted anyone could really answer them so for now he did the logical thing and keep his mouth shut while the Valigart talked to the princess and the barbarian known as Shawn gave a typical alpha male speech. Sighing slightly as the brute walked off, Nate raised a eyebrow at the battle mage who then began growling and snarling as a form of communication with Shawn. If that was the way the barbarians communicated normally it explained why Orlay was able to fend off the simpletons for years.

Far behind the inner wall to the courtyard, beyond this small grassy patch smelling of sweet honey and lilac sprigs, there was a war. The battle was raging once more, and the faint clash of metal, the shattering of blades against blades haunted the air with a shrill reminder to those gathered in this safe place. Death ravaged on as time was spent here. Few smiles came to the faces of those servants here to assist, and for some, the only reason they were not in tears was because they had already mourned for the dead who still live, those swordsmen who held the privilege of being the front line.

The actions of Shurik were frightening to the young queen, who lacked the age, or years of battle her husband had. A small gesture from the King kept her reaction pleasant, she trusted her husband in these matters, despite the whelming fear that plagued her. She was not prepared for blood. She spoke in soft words, "I thank you for your kindness, bring my child back to me and you will have my gratitude for the rest of my days." Shurik's ways were confusing but, should anyone be able to do something like this perhaps this group of strange individuals was the best bet in succeeding. Or so the Queen thought as she watched Shurik step away.

Rose's comforts, along with those of Shawn were received with nods of appreciation from the King and strange stares from the young princess, she did not speak in response to either of them, she simply watched them with curious eyes. It felt like something more lay behind her gaze, something eerie.

In the courtyard, the girl held the knife she was given in her hands, looking at it the same way one might admire a piece of art, she held it gently. The King looked to Shurik, "thank you for your kindness. I am happy that you will be on this journey." The King smiled at Rosaline's behavior, "You will do a fine job. Orlay trusts you to guard our walls, and I trust you with my daughter."

Once everyone appeared to be ready and had things gathered the King gave a gentle push on the back to his daughter, "Stay with your guardians, listen well to them. It is time for your journey to begin and for all of us to play the roles we were born to play." He looked up towards the others, his voice spoke with more conviction, "We begin. Head towards the city gate, there will be several of the people of Orlay present to assist in this endeavor. Each is ready to do what they must to help, to guard you till you can escape the Black Legion. A last warning, stay together, work together. You will surely each come to understand each other's strengths and weaknesses." He held his hand up, "May the Ancestors watch over you, and the stars guide you."

The pathway down towards the city gate was made clear, any debris that might have been blocking the passage was now removed. By the gate a small group of riders in heavy armor sat atop fine horses equally armored. Groups of spearmen stood at the ready behind them, great shields in their off hands to create a wall to pass between. At the far back an elderly man stood, two apprentices by his sides held up paper banners covered in runic wards and geometric shapes.

The last bit to this plan seemed to be the arrival of the Princess and her guardians, though few at the walls could spare the time to watch their approach.

The outer wall shook with the might of the endless ranks of the Black Legion, the next wave of the assault reached the stonework with a clash of metal on rock. Arrows pelted fanatically downwards as the legion fell one by one. Their thinning gave little comfort as a sea of new warriors poured forward, marching upon their own fallen to get ever closer to overcoming the defenders of the city. Goodbyes were suddenly halted as the demands of the wall came to light. A stocky man of foreign origin fell from the wall, his dark screams quickly silenced under the unforgiving blade of a Black Legionnaire, for there were no prisoners taken by this army nor mercy shown.

The young princess made no noise, nor did she cower or show awareness of the events transpiring around her. Even as other children hid within the walls, weeping in fear or cowering in their homes, Princess Mylina simply watched. A man in his twenties standing atop a nearby roof, able to survey the other side of the wall shouted down to his captain, the man on horseback who would lead the Calvary out into the field. "Sir, they're all forward pressed, the gap is there!" the man's voice was hard to hear over the clash of battle, but he used every bit of his voice to cry out over the noise.

A young captain, identified by the overlay on his garment (though his years would indicate otherwise), gestured towards the group to come forward, the time had come to give an opening, to split apart the enemy forces in order to give the heroes the chance they would need to reach beyond the walls of the city. It was a half day's walk to the Great Wall, if they were swift of foot they could make it far sooner. Alacrity was as necessary as carefulness, a trial for a group of individuals that were little more than strangers to each other. Time would bind them closer, or seem them all destroyed.

A horn was blown to coordinate the various parts of this endeavor and immediately the old mage's hands began to gesture in wide arcs, eldritch power crackled forth from the two banners, the numbers and geometric shapes rose up and away from the page and began surrounding the elderly man, the life in his cheeks seemed to drain away as his gestures drew closer towards himself. Arcane energy polluted the ground below him in a mirage of color and distortion, a sight few would see again, a magic never before preformed and likely to ever be performed again.

The gates pried open with the turning of a spoked wheel, the archers above leaned over the wall to fire arrows at the entrance as the Calvary captain reared his horse and drew out his sword, glimmering brass in the sunlight. As his horse's hooves landed on the ground the horsemen all took their charge, galloping into the horde that lie before them. They were but the wedge to open the way, and they rode out with cries of bravery swinging their blades down to strike at enemies as their mounts trampled over the Legion. Behind them rushed the spearmen, holding open the gap by jabbing at the Legion.

The Valigart were given their order to keep watch over the heroes as they made their way through the gap, to shoot down any of the Black Legion that broke past the spears or horses. Their arrows were precise and well timed, pegging back each of the foes and slaying many of them. Even as they fired to clear the path, the wall below them was being marched upon, the legion edging closer to the archers. One seemed to stay her attention but a sharply barked order brought the focus back to where the other arrows flew.

Rose held Shawn's glare and looked back into the barbarian's eyes. "Orders were to shoot anything that moved," She stated in a matter-of-factually tone. Everything in the Legion's sea of bodies looked so alike, she couldn't say whether it was or wasn't her who gave Shawn's clanmates the killing blow. Even if she did, she was given the orders to protect the city at any costs, and she didn't feel regret at taking any of her shots. What she destroyed then meant one less she had to destroy here, and she wasn't going to apologize for it. But the conversation, if one could call it that, didn't have the chance to get heated as the order was given to open the gates.

The sounding horn indicated the beginning of this journey and the opening maw of the gate was just the start of their path. Rose took a couple of steps back to better cement her position of a rear guard and in one fluid motion had her bow in hand and an arrow in the other. The arrow's fletching was dyed red and orange and the shaft was expertly inscribed with mystical runes. Before gate had opened wide enough to allow for the onslaught of the calvary and spearmen, she began to play a song on her bowstring. She drew and loosed the arrow, firing it at the gap in the gates. In midair, it crackled and popped, igniting in intense flame and piercing the chest of the unlucky legionnaire to find itself in the path of Rose's runic arrow. Upon impact, the entire being burst into flames and like that, the mad charge was off to a start.

And a mad charge it was. Rose expected the barbarian to lose himself in the blood and war instintly, and she wasn't surprised when he did. What did surprise her was the tiny elf Marielle's raw ferocity, managing to even keep up with the barbarian. Next was the loud swordsman Django or Black Thirteen or whatever he called himself screaming no quarter at the fire mage. Shurik, well, the foriegner was gone in a flash, taking the princess along with him. Truth be told, Rose felt more comfortable with Shurik taking the princess than anyone else, as the man seemed least likely not to find a blade in the sea of warriors. Though Rose wished he wouldn't violently kill with the Princess in tow. They were supposed to protect her, not mentally scar her.

It seemed her and the medic were the only really sensible ones in the fray. As Nathan ran ahead to keep up with their companions, Rose followed behind at a clip, letting fly a couple of unruned arrows, each finding their home in the chest of a Legionnaire. Here, even Rose displayed another facet of her personality. The trained killer, a disciplined and lethal soldier of Orlay. She drew another arrow, this time one with deep blue fletching and runes. She nocked it and aimed to the side where the spearmen were busy holding the line. She fired past two extremely surprised spearmen and planted itself into the ground. Moments later and the runes kicked in, slicking the area around the arrow in a thin sheet of ice. Rose immediately nocked another arrow, and couldn't see the sight of a number of legionaries slipping on the ice to be dispatched by the spearmen.

Rose managed to keep step with her group as they surged forward. Wasn't hard to keep track of them really, just follow the bodies. After firing another unruned arrow, she withdrew two arrows, one with white fletching and another ice arrow. She fumbled the white arrow and dropped it on the ground, but managed to nock the ice arrow and sent it flying towards the front of the group. It impacted a Legionnaire, freezing it solid for either the Barbarian or elf to smash at their convenience.

The white fletched arrow would later explode into a heavy white mist, allowing the survivors of the charge to retreat back to the castle under cover. If she had timed it right, it would set off once her party had made it to the woods.

Catching his breath alongside the others, Nathaniel is bent over gasping for any and all air that would come his way. While the medic was in good shape, he had never fully sprinted across a entire battlefield carrying roughly 60 pounds of various equipment and armour. After a few minutes , the lad was back to his normal self and remained quiet while the others decided their next course of action. Once everyone had said their thoughts on the matter, Nate spoke up.

"Well we all seem to be mostly unanimous. It would be wise if we began moving soon, but first there is a slightly more urgent matter." Nate said pointing at Shawn, more specifically the dagger that was still embedded in the barbarian's arm.

Placing one of his satchels on the ground, Nate begins digging through the small bag to bring out a small bottle of aloe gel and some tightly bound runed bandages meant to help ease the pain and close the wound faster. With the objects in his hands, Nate approaches Shawn and asks him to sit or crouch down. Luckily the savage complies and crouches down and allows the medic to quickly dislodge the weapon. With blood now openly pouring from the wound, Nate throws the dagger aside and pours water from his waterskin on the injury before applying the aloe concoction. It would sting like a bitch, but it would ensure the wound wouldn't get infected anytime soon. With that being all he could do for now, Nate tightly wraps the bandages around Shawn's arm.

"Does anyone else need medical attention?" Nate called to the rest of the group as he did the final knot on the bandages.

Django was shocked to see Rose's anger flare due to Shawn's and Shurik's attempt to calm her depressed mood, but all that did was make her pissed at everyone. He felt that he should finally get his own troubled spirits out in the open but he held his peace, only giving one small hint on what he did know about the legion and what they caused him by letting several tears escape him before his face turned into an calm, yet slightly angered manner in order to act the way he made his first impression.

"Well, Lesson well taught from a barbarian on how not to calm a lady down and have her insult in everyone's faces in five syllables or less." He stated. "But I agree one thing, if we don't get a movin towards the wall and find a way through it and steer clear from the legion baddies our gooses are as well as cooked, not to mention I don't want to take an arrow in the buttocks or worse an arrow in the kneecap."

With that said he looked at Kalad. "Fire-Mage. Since Mad-man with a blade is absent it boils down to you, Madam Marielle, or the Healer Man to carry the Princess if you please?" he asked in a hushed tone. "I'm carrying a Silver Blade on my back and would not like to drop it anytime soon for it feels as though I may need it for future reference. Also, I don't trust anyone who can comfort a lady from a depressed state into a severely angry mood to do the task."

With that he then kept his ears open for any ambushes as he traveled with the others to the wall.