Miles Riverbend
"Lets get started, the faster we get this over with the better."
Miles looked over the therian and scoffed at the man’s utter disregard for the escaping woman. Touya had sheathed his weapons, allowing the blades to fold over in snapping motions and therefore reducing their ungainly size to something more manageable. Now he was staring at Miles with icy blue eyes, apparently at ease with allowing the therian woman to flee. Was it all just a ploy? “You’re not going to chase after her?” Miles asked, sounding slightly incredulous, “She could warn the other therians and I’m not particularly keen on dying here. Well, it’s your loss also. Havoc’s one of those people who keeps his word, if you catch my drift.”
Shaking his head, the Beast Slayer looked to the dark blood that coated his sword. Another inch and the blow would have been fatal. That was a perfect lunge yet once again he had been undermined by the more advance therian physique. Releasing a sigh, he withdrew a handkerchief and wiped away the blood stains, running the piece of cloth up and down the length of his sword. “Can’t believe I got assigned to more guard duty,” Miles cursed under his breath.
“I must admit, I’m impressed by your display of loyalty again. That turncoat must mean a lot to you. I mean look at the mess you made for her sake,” Miles mused, not even looking up from his repetitive maintenance, “I wonder what she did to earn such special treatment? Wait, you guys haven’t screwed? Have you?!”
Shuddering at the thought of such a joining, he turned once he was finished with cleaning, pocket the dirty fabric and sheathing his sword with a click. “What a bunch of mavericks. Whatever, let’s get this charade on the road then, shall we? So therian, which way do we go?” Miles asked, waltzing back to the main road to reclaim his horse. "Jaeger Guard! Fall back!"
The remaining Jaeger Guard halted their pursuit, ending the sounds of gunfire. They turned to Miles grimly and saluted before disengaging to attend to their dead. Hoisting himself over the back of his steed, Miles took up the reigns between his hands. “Don’t expect me to organize your supplies though. You find your own horse and food. Fall behind also, and I'll ditch you faster than you can say Beast Slayer.”
Dean ‘Havoc’ Reginald
“Two weeks, huh?”
Presiding over the unconscious forms of April and Damea, Reginald jumped at the interruption with a sharp intake of sterilized air. Looking up from his work, the medic glanced around and spotted the silhouette of an individual he recognized. Well lit, the holding room was a pristine environment. Perfect for surgical procedures if necessary. White tiles lined the walls and floor, ending just at the edge of the rectangular roof. Steam powered lights shined overhead, prickling the back of his neck with warmth.
“Yes,” Reginald replied smoothly, turning his head back to resume his work, “Two weeks is the deadline for all of us.”
He was in the process of securing April to an operating table. The toxin he had fed them was particularly virulent and could lead to violent seizures during the later stages of its development. If such a thing were to occur, Reginald wanted to prevent his patients from hurting themselves, at least for the time being. It was vital he maintained his leverage over Touya.
“Two weeks from now is when Victor Hawthorn and his ilk have opted for a re-vote,” Reginald said, attaching a drip to April’s arm. Though comatose, the woman still winced unknowingly, her face riddled with accumulated sweat and agony. As though enduring a nightmare, she had tossed and turned more than a few occasions now, subconsciously desperate to escape her fate. Damea was similar, but fairing much better overall than the former soldier. “Something tells me they’ll make their move before then even. Currently most of the court doesn’t support the hybrid project, but that could all change at a moments notice.”
“People are getting desperate, they’re scared of the therians,” said the person. Reginald sensed a shrug behind the words and smirked.
“If it’s not faceless, it’s the elves. If not the elves it’s the beastmen. People are always jumping at their own shadows,” Reginald frowned, “People will be people, regardless of race.”
A soft chuckle penetrated the gloom from behind him, earning a raised eyebrow from Reginald as he performed his final checks. “Quite, we can only pray the therian succeeds. If Victor achieves his goal then a new era dawns of Altheim. A new era I’m rather afraid of.”
Reginald nodded, “It’s all up to Touy-”
April had started coughing abruptly, disrupting his speech. Fearing the woman would choke on her vomit, Reginald strode over and held her head up as she convulsed, fighting his grip fiercely.
“Is she meant to be coughing?” asked the voice.
“No, it’s not a symptom caused by the drug. Pass me that bucket!” Reginald grunted, struggling to hold April in place. Eventually she calmed down, but a wet goblet of red mucus flew out on the final wrench. Reginald’s eyes widened he gazed at the crimson liquid. “Blood…”