The Jurial Plains

Talae shot a glance to her side, where Faera was marching in silence, boots making the slightest of scuffing noises on the dirt road. Though both siblings were well-used to traversing miles of road without stopping by now, only the older could claim to have any ease doing so at march pace, and she'd taken to ensuring that her charge would not fall behind. It was obvious Fae was weary, but she was doing well at choosing not to show as much, clearly determined not to complain.

Truthfully, she was still displeased with this arrangement. She knew quite well that her sister was capable enough to be of use when it came to a fight, but that did not mean she belonged in the Legion of Ashes. Actually, Talae herself was beginning to wonder at her choice. If it hadn't been the most expedient way to find herself with the opportunity to do some dragons some damage, she probably would have stayed away from it altogether. She didn't have to know anything about her fellows to know that this was a ragtag bunch at best, not that she had expected any different. They'd let in a blind girl, of all things, with little more than a passing assurance that her other senses were good enough to prevent her from hitting anyone important- for the most part.

When Fae had insisted on accompanying her this time, Talae had refused bluntly. Unfortunately, her sister's methods of persuasion did not work in the form of aggressive argument, easily enough combated, but in a slow and gradual wearing down of resistance. Talae could wait, but Faera had the patience of a saint. So here she was, double-timing it to who-knew where, surrounded by people who obviously knew little more about what was coming than she did, but for the most part didn't seem to care either.

She'd been surprised to note that Caine was among the lot of them; she'd have thought someone like him would have up and died a long time ago. Berserker rage wasn't exactly conducive to lasting health, after all. Of course, it sure beat the hell out of her skills on an open field with nowhere to hide. Still, his face in the crowd meant that she knew exactly two other people here, which was probably a decent start as far as these things went, and she actually had some respect for this particular human, so it might not all be quite as horrendous as she expected.

The dull knives affixed to her braids clinked together softly as the group was called to halt and lined up in front of the man who called himself their Captain. This, she was more than a little skeptical of. Even as short-lived as humans tended to be, this one was young, and his manner of dress was... peculiar, to say the least. His obvious disdain for her (or perhaps simply her profession, not that the difference mattered a whit) was the least of her problems with him, since she felt exactly the same thing. She usually did, so this was unsurprising. It certainly didn't matter, considering that she'd follow orders regardless. Nothing said one had to like one's superior officers, only obey them.

She was for a moment concerned when she discovered there would be two groups, though, as she had even less desire to let Faera out of her sight than she had to be unpleasantly mauled by a fire-lizard, but luckily (or she would have thought so if she believed in luck), the two were placed together. Well, that was a positive for this entire arrangement, anyway. As soon as they were both allowed to leave, Talae started wordlessly for the village, knowing that her sister would hear and follow. They needed somewhere to rest, and even places this small usually had suitable establishments. If nothing else, they could find the inn early and take up residence in some corner or something.

Alistair shivered in his armor. Fact of the matter was, bird bones and blood weren't that great for keeping warm, and his wings were stiff and a bit achey from the break a couple of days prior. Well, a day and a half, more like, but who was counting? He'd tried flying earlier, just to confirm he could, but it was going to hurt like hell in this weather, no mistaking that.

Still, he wasn't going to be useless, that much he knew. He coated the prongs of his trident with the violet-colored poison; though he was not usually the sort to enjoy guile-based tactics, he understood that every advantage one could gain in a situation like this was worth consideration at the very least, and he had no reservations using such a substance if it would get even one less Legionnaire killed or injured.

Propping the spear against his leathered shoulder, the harpy rubbed his taloned hands together in an attempt to generate heat, which was mostly futile, then brought them to his face and exhaled, which was marginally less so. He blinked owlishly, but what in the daylight was highly-efficient vision was less so in the dark, and he doubted he could see much more than the average human. Ah well. That, like the weather, would just have to be adjusted for.

The group was given the order to move, and the general was off like a shot, utilizing his armor right off the bat, and Alistair took to the air. Diving speed would be reduced in the rain, but being above the enemy would increase the element of surprise, and he removed his bow from his back, deciding to utilize arrows while the element of surprise was still theirs. Of course, this would mean waiting until such time as the tents were torn down or soldiers began to emerge from them on their own, hopefully still half-asleep and minimally wary.

It was to the latter sorts that he devoted his time for the most part, hoping to delay the sounding of the alarm for as long as possible. Throats, chests, and even a few heads were his targets, though he knew the sheer numbers involved would mean they could not remain concealed forever. Still, the more thinned the enemy ranks were by the time the Thane showed up (for he had surmised by the weather conditions that one was probably present), the better.

---

Talae was used to conducting operations at night. Of course, "operations" here meant single or double-target assassinations, not full-scale skirmishes or battles. Even so, she could not help but feel a level of comfort at the cover of darkness, for this at least was something she knew how to take advantage of. The footing was treacherous and she was cold, but hopefully that would abate somewhat when she got moving.

She wasn't the sort to put something on her weapons without knowing exactly what it was, and she sniffed at one of the vials before raising a brow. Snakesglove? That wasn't even lethal... of course, simply knocking out as many as possible and coming back to kill them would have made a form of sense, but it made still more to simply mix something fatal and do the same thing without the retracing of steps, especially if they wanted to do this quickly. An accidental cut that left one of them knocked out would be just as lethal in this situation as a more potent toxin, so that wasn't the reason, either... oh well. Not her call.

She applied a liberal does of the stuff to the edges of her bastardsword and lowered it, holding the hilt loosely in one hand. Before anyone said anything else, the general was off, and Talae turned to Kisikoni. "Shall we?" she asked, tapping her armor and shooting off after Wrath. As Neira veered left, so Talae swept right, skirting the edged of the clearing the camp was in until she came upon the first likely target. Assuming that Koni would be behind her, she shredded through three tents and nicked at least two people, knowing that in this case acting as a team would enable them to work faster.

The dark elf had no desire to let anyone get away to sound the alarm, though, and so doubled back after the third canvas was destroyed and drew both its occupants into combat. They, along with the one she'd downed on her way, constituted half of those who knew something was going on (by her fault anyway), and a well-timed arrow eliminated the second man from the middle tent. Excellent.

She appeared to have stumbled upon a pair of Children, though, which was not quite so excellent, and she was immediately preoccupied dodging a gout of that infernal fire, diving to the side and rolling. She came to her feet, scrabbling slightly in the mud, but that just reminded her of the time she'd sparred with Caine, and so she decided to use it to her advantage now as then, counting on her sense of balance to keep her upright while she utilized the slick ground to move faster and less predictably.

One of the Children swung a maul at her, but she slid under the blow and hacked at his shoulder as she passed. It left a gash, but she really should have just shoved a knife into his armpit. Probably would have stood more chance at hitting an artery that way. Even so, the poison did it's job, and he was down for the count shortly after.

His partner immediately wised up to the game, though, and went on the offensive, causing her to shift into blocking and dodging more than she would have liked. Mostly the latter, because there was always a chance that the next attack would be more flames, and those didn't get blocked.

As it happened, Talae did not have much of a chance to wring any answers out of everyone (not that she would have pressed the point anyway) before the Legion was called to charge. As the Vanguard unit, they were in front, and despite the disappearance of their general, following Sid's orders came easily to her, used as she was to this abbreviated version of some larger chain of command that she didn't really care to know. Activating the speed enchantment on her armor, she ran with her closest comrades until they met the wall. Common sense informed her that waiting for the ladders would take a while, so instead she decided to simply climb it.

Which of course was not a useful course of action for Koni and Pel. Well, that's what armor boosts and friends were for, right? Ducking under the range of arrow-fire, Talae stood at the base of the wall, dropping into a crouch and lacing her fingers together to create a foothold. Using the strength-boosting enhancement, she jerked her head at the other two, and Pel seemed to understand immediately, using her own leaping enchantment and taking a running jump. Tala, with the aid of her armor, managed to toss her cleanly over the wall. "You're next, partner," she called to Koni.

As soon as he was up and over as well, she'd take a running leap at the wall herself, landing a ways up and simply climbing the rest, careful not to get smacked with any kind of projectile on the way there. It seemed that Caine was still yelling something about hurrying below, which she took to mean that the ladders were keeping him at bay for the moment. Probably unfortunate for the poor souls in line in front of him. Drawing her sword, Talae stepped right into the fray.

The average swordfight lasts less than three seconds. The fancy shows that happen during training happen because exercise and improvement are the goal. When death is the goal, everything is faster. If you rely on blocking too much, you die. If you hesitate, you die. When death is the only objective, you have to hit quickly, and without mercy. The assassin understands this, and works to take as much time as possible away from that three seconds. The words were not hers, but they had been the guiding principle of her methods for quite some time. Sidestepping an incoming swing, she impaled a soldier through the chest and located the other two, quickly moving to them.

---

Alistair saw the problem posed by the wall's ascension. Though it would of course be no object to him, there was no denying that the longer the rest of them spent getting over the wall, the more of them would die in the attempt.

It was for this reason that he decided to make good on his promise to the elder Shanir in short order. He wouldn't be able to manage it with most people, but Faera was tiny, so it could conceivably work. "Miss Faera, I'm going to fly you over the wall," he informed the blind girl for the sake of not scaring her witless when he actually did so, then swept in and latched onto her forearms with his own taloned ones, careful not to pierce skin.

It made his flight considerably more laborious, but the speed he'd picked up on the way down translated into enough momentum to manage it, and he deposited her in the general vicinity of a few other spellcasters, including Beelzes, who was presently letting some form of mantislike creature chew into a line of enemies, apparently highly amused with their panicked reactions. He personally was unsurprised.

His task accomplished, Alistair joined Lily and the other marksmen in the sky and drew his own bow, a recurved construction of short but powerful make, notching an arrow to the string and letting fly, hitting a Child square in the throat even as it had made to spew its unholy fire at Thanaros and Mikana. Interrupted, the flame immolated the Child instead, and it fell screaming off the opposite side of the wall.

Talae had the distinct impression that she was going to regret this in the morning. She'd seen Caine fight on several occasions, and the man did not pull punches, so to speak. Not that she wanted him to- she knew that would only be to her detriment in the end, but all the same it would be nice to be able to move when she woke up in the morning.

Even so, she wasn't about to say no if he thought it was a good idea to begin right now. "That much, I had figured," she replied flatly to his comment about the Children-issued flames. The burn mark looked rather nasty, but she figured a healer had looked at it already and thus it probably wasn't causing him pain any longer. She considered herself lucky that she'd managed to escape such damage... she might have to thank the Captain for that later, now that she got to thinking about it.

They reached an open space, and Talae shifted her grip on the length of cold steel beneath her hands. A sound caught her ears, and she noted with some trepidation that Kisikoni had appeared. Nothing quite like an audience to make humiliation painful, she thought wryly, but perhaps it was a good thing. She didn't exactly relish the idea of her partner thinking her incompetent, but it was probably good information to have, now wasn't it?

The bastard sword was a common enough choice of armament, and she tried to recall how she might have seen them being held. She may not be the most experienced fighter out there, nor the strongest, but she did have something of an eye for detail, an absolute necessity when concocting acid and poison alike. Of course, the trick was remembering who she'd seen handle weapons well, and the difference between what they did, and how rookies handled it. Taking a solid but not white-knuckled grip, then, she heeded Caine's advice and decided that standing around wasn't going to help anything.

She came at him quickly, pivoting at the last second to try striking for his side instead of head-on. The fact of the matter was that he was far stronger than she could ever hope to be, and so in order to stand a chance of hitting anything, she'd have to be faster, and trickier.

"I am Kisikoni Ayalen, Deep Human from Chochmingwu. I have only been with this legion for about a decade. I welcome you to our division." Alistair tried to place Chochmingwu on the mental map he had of Norr, but was only partially successful. He resolved to check for it next time he saw one. To the welcome, he merely inclined his head in gratitude, sensing that perhaps Kisikoni had more to say yet. As it turned out, he was correct.

"All of this is so much to take in. From being the fortieth legion to the Black Guard of the army." That drew a smile from the harpy, for indeed he imagined it must be so. Sudden change was never easy and rarely welcomed, but Alistair had fought in enough battles masterminded by General Darenthi to know that the man was cunning in his savvy, and quite the strategist. A tad too ruthless, perhaps, but war was war, and it rarely made kind men of its leaders.

"I imagine that it is," he mused thoughtfully. "I think, though, that in the end, much of the work will be the same. The Legion of Ashes faces battles that many would think unwinnable daily. At least, when one marches to the enemy, one knows to expect this." He was under the impression that the last battle had caught them all quite off-guard, and he could certainly understand that. The Children of Flame were not enemies easily-bested, no matter one's level of skill or experience, and to face so many more than anticipated would be rather unsettling, even to himself.

Alistair waved off all compliments to his tea, though he did rather get the impression that Lily was less a connoisseur than she would perhaps have them believe. This, he accepted as rather harmless, and did not comment upon it. Her words regarding her clan were tinged with sadness, though, and he quite truthfully thought he must be a much older man than he had anticipated, if he were being met with the urge to offer sage advice so often in the course of a single conversation. He was scarcely out of the youth of his species, at least in terms of relative lifespans, but it had been an eventful sixty-some years, all things considered. He'd had a spear in his hand from the time he was six months old, using it in clan squabbles before the war then in service of the Murder and then for the Legion.

So he supposed it was advice that was his to give, and there was little purpose in keeping it to himself. But perhaps offering it in a more diluted fashion would be appropriate. "I myself lived with a clan for quite some time," he replied conversationally. "I have found that, somehow, it makes it an easier matter to come to think of new groups of people in similar ways." The past is hardly a fit place for the young to dwell, child.