Snippet #1475029

Faera was spared any chance for elucidation when someone's magically-enhanced voice rang through camp. The amplified sound was so loud to her sensitive audits that she was forced to cover them with both hands before Beelzes grabbed her and dragged her to the center of camp, as they had been instructed.

The young dark elf knew the names of the people in charge of the Paragon; there were precious few who did not. However, even had she functional eyes, she would not have recognized any of them on sight without anything to reference. That did not stop her, though, from placing a rather accurate guess that the man who spoke after the Captain was very important. You could virtually hear it in his voice, or at the very least in the hushed silence that allowed his every word to drop like a boulder into it. She had never known such a large group of people to be so quiet, and that alone convinced her of the gravity of what was being said.

Of course, that didn't mean any of it made any sense. They were tested... they'd been thrown into that huge group of Children on purpose? But what about all those people that had died? If a normal troop wouldn't get put in a situation like that, then they would not have been killed if assigned to a normal troop! And what was all this about potential and such? She had just discovered she knew much less about anything than even she had thought, and suddenly she was part of a group who were all being promoted?

She could scarcely believe it; might not have if the Captain himself had not confirmed it but scant moments later. Him, she did believe, if only because he'd gotten them all this far, which truthfully was much further than she had thought in the thick of that battle earlier today. This was all a bit much, and by the conclusion of it all, Faera was feeling emotionally as well as physically drained. She had wanted to talk to Talae about everything that had happened, knowing that her sister was much more accustomed to dealing with this sort of thing, but it would not be a mistake in her estimation to suppose that this was all equally new to the elder Shanir.

So when everyone was dismissed, Faera decided she'd leave off meeting the new fighters until the morning. Right now, she needed nothing more than some sleep, lest it all overwhelm her completely. She trudged with unusual heaviness to the tent she had been pointed to (after a fashion) earlier and clambered under the covers, intent on not letting her racing thoughts keep her awake all night. It wouldn't have worked, had Zek not helped. He was a good little familiar like that.

---

Now there was a question Neira hadn't considered in a while. "The spawn seem to get smaller each time you look at them," she replied with uncharacteristic thoughtfulness. Shaking her head, she downed what remained of her flagon. She was pretty sure she was done drinking four in; she had no desire to be impaired at the moment, truth be told. "Of course, it's hardly a surprise, seeing as how their parents grow ever more spineless at virtually the same rate."

She might have said more on the subject, but it was then that the General's voice (she most certainly recognized it from the tent earlier, and wasn't stupid enough to fail in recalling his face) sounded, and the footnote to his summons caused her to grin. "Someone thinks he knows you too well, I'd say." It was with those parting words that Neira slid her coin onto the table and left. Mercy could do as she liked, of course, and her fellow Nightmarian would not make protest.

The explanation was mildly interesting, actually, and when she found out just how thoroughly they'd all been had, she chuckled darkly to herself. So many little puppets, dancing on your strings, she thought wryly at (but not to, because psionically she was capable of that) the white-haired general. The new recruits were of passing interest, as was the Captain's wardrobe change, more specifically the swords involved. Now those matched a story she'd heard a few times before, and the name connected to that story matched the unlikely officer's own. My, my... things do run in circles around here, don't they?

When all was said and done, the man himself approached and informed her she'd been conscripted. "Oh damn, and here I thought I was going to leave just as it got interesting," she replied archly, accepting the scroll anyway. Granted, she was unfond of having her choices made for her, but she saw little point in arguing the principle of the thing when it coincided with her own wishes anyway. Curiously, the conscription notice was not the only thing in the parcel, and she read over the other, much shorter missive before crushing it in her fist, a small smirk playing across her mouth and a dangerous glint in her eye. Oh, this could be fun.