*Sadrianna*
Sadrianna sighed internally yet again. Bjorn was such an insecure little child.
She’d been assigned weeks ago to his Scourer group, the 5-man team down a member due to pregnancy. By all accounts – meaning the gossip she could dreg up from the tent-hands – the woman she was replacing was a skilled tracker and the only one who could smooth over the leader’s inflated ego.
His father held a position of prominence in his clan, and as such he walked around with a permanent sneer on his face and a superiority complex to make a god blush. He’d earned his position as leader of the small unit by a combination of strength of arms and nepotism.
The first week or two was okay, and she was thankful for the opportunity to get out with the team. This initiative was actually something her father had spear-headed a few decades ago. In an attempt to increase cohesion between the clans, the council decided that – at least during The Blending – camp guards and Scourer groups should be made up of multiple clans.
It was a good idea in theory, and she’d seen the benefits during the first two weeks where she’d gotten to know members of the other clans, but she suspected it was perhaps doing more harm than good at this point. Each member of her team, as far as she could tell, now harboured a profound dislike of the White-Sky clan.
Hard not to when Bjorn was their representative.
She could see why he would be appointed to lead a Scourer group in the abstract. He was tall and strong-featured – looked the part, certainly – with a mane of white hair and an enormous bow nearly as tall as he was slung across his back. He gave commands naturally, oozed confidence, and didn’t panic in a crisis.
In many ways he was the perfect fit, but that arrogance was a killer. He had taken his time to assess her, and only after two weeks had he become confident in his conclusion that he was stronger than her. Once that happened…the problems started.
With nobody left in the group to challenge his power, he began to revel in it. Taking less time to discuss with others, letting his disdain for some of the ‘lower’ clans truly show. Some of the ancient clans seemed to be of the opinion that the higher up the mountains one lived, the better one was.
It was an opinion that Bjorn clearly shared. True to their name, the White-Sky clan usually resided in the high peaks, conveniently leaving them at the top of their ideological framework of importance. Funny how that always seemed to be the case.
So here she was, scouting ahead of the rest of her team and praying she would find nobody entering the territory that they were patrolling. Bjorn had already taken liberties with some traders drawn to the mass of humanity presented by The Blending this year. She’d managed to keep him from extracting bribes from them by careful massaging of his ego and reminding him of the displeasure of his father if he did so…but it was a close-run thing.
It also hadn’t stopped him from making the traders cringe with his threats. It had been hard to hold herself back from smacking the man after Bjorn had made some unsavoury comments about the trader’s son.
And so it was that she found herself looping through the forest, tree to tree, keeping her eyes peeled and senses sharp for anything out of place. With luck, nothing would be amiss, and this patrol would be uninteresting.
As it so often went in her life though, things got complicated.
As she usually did when scouting, she periodically activated Myriad Senses, observing the world as her prey did. This was her only skill that had no utility in combat, but she had – upon advice from her father and one of the clan elders – put an immense amount of work into her study of each of the animals she used as inspiration for her other skills. And not just for the traits she was keen to gain.
For example, Markhor’s Rush was primarily a distance closing and impact skill, but when observing the Markhosian Goat to base this skill off, she had also taken care to observe the way its great horns could collect sound and funnel it through to its stubby ears, thereby granting it an incredible fidelity of hearing. Similarly, with each of her other skills she had picked up a new or enhanced sense from each creature and folded them expertly into a new skill – Myriad Senses.
She used that skill now, flickering through enhanced hearing, hawk-like vision, a tremor sense from a Frozen-Hare that partly inspired her finishing move – Glacial Carcass – and a strong heat and radiation sense courtesy of the many species of Gecko she had studied as a child for Gecko’s Grip and later Unorthodox Movement.
Those many senses were now warning her of people. Three or four, she couldn’t yet be sure. They were moving slowly, at a jog if she had to guess by the steady footfalls, and either heavily armoured or well-muscled judging by the weight.
Her nose picked up no unusual smells from this range, but they were down-wind of her current position, and so she moved closer. Spiralling above, working her way through canopies and along branches, she scuttled like a beetle and did her best to remain beyond their senses.
She brushed past a branch at one point, not noticing the rot that had started to set in, and so not accounting for its brittle nature. The crack that followed was not loud in the forest, and should not be out of place either, but it still made her wince. She noticed the heavy woman in her gecko-given sense flare with heat briefly as the branch snapped, and she decided it was time to report back.
Most likely a coincidence, since she had not reacted outwardly in any other way, but her body temperature did not fluctuate much at all in the preceding half-bell that Sadrianna had observed her, and it felt like too much of a coincidence for her to be certain she hadn’t been noticed.
She retreated back to her group, informing them of the spot and urging a cautious approach. For once, Bjorn took her advice, and she led them to a spot where the people she had observed should appear if they kept up their trajectory and speed.
The forest was broken for a league in each direction, bisected by a fast-flowing river and its flood-plain on either side. Given the time of year, the autumn rains had not yet started and so the basin was filled with thick grasses rather than bog. Still though, the group would have to emerge onto open ground for a few hundred yards, giving her team plenty of time to observe them and take their measure.
It would also be an excellent place for an ambush, Sadrianna noticed. Not something she had or would recommend, and the fact that Bjorn hadn’t said anything concerned her. Nothing was easy with that man, and she did not trust him to deal with this situation with anything resembling calm.
The four travellers emerged from the forest like wraiths – one moment a plain of grassland stood empty, and the next it was full of movement. They jogged in a pack, equidistant from one another, and keeping pace effortlessly, without the need for communication.
Not that it was a particularly difficult thing to do when focusing, but the way they moved spoke of an understanding of one another that was gained only through long affiliation. Each bore arms – one a heavy war-axe, one a longsword and two bearing spears and shields. They were relatively lightly armoured except for the woman, who looked like a one-woman battering ram given flesh.
They crossed the distance methodically and appeared none the wiser to Sadrianna’s Scourer group hiding just out of sight in the trees before them. She glanced over at Bjorn, waiting for him to announce their presence before the group reached the tree-line.
That would be her signal. If they got within twenty strides and he said nothing, she would step in herself. Despite their unfamiliar appearance, she would not allow innocents to walk into an ambush, for that is surely what it would mean for Bjorn to let them pass beneath them.
Just as she was about to be forced to directly intervene, Bjorn’s smooth voice cut across the clearing, echoing about in that unusual way he had. She still wasn’t sure of the details of his skill, but at this point had decided she didn’t really care. It may have uses in combat she would need to watch out for, but she was hoping to avoid open conflict with him anyway so hopefully it wouldn’t be relevant before she finished the short-term assignment.
The group came to a halt rapidly, no doubt due to the outright threat Bjorn posed as his greeting. She inwardly seethed at the arrogance and incompetence he displayed with a single sentence. Already this event had become significantly more dangerous to both groups because of the prick’s ego, and they weren’t even twenty heartbeats into the meeting.
There was a back and forth as the leader stepped forwards to negotiate, doing an admirable job of attempting to calm the situation despite his clear lack of familiarity with the language. Bjorn continued to be completely intransigent, and the lack of cowering and fear in the group of four clearly rankled him.
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Even so, she was caught off-guard when he sent an arrow thudding into the ground by the old man’s foot. She had de-activated Myriad Senses, and so missed the flash of heat that erupted from the large woman for a moment as the arrow was released, but she could feel the tension in the air thicken all the same.
Bjorn gave one final command – completely unreasonable as it was – and then the younger man bearing shield and spear stepped forwards to speak. He spoke perfectly, his language fluid and fluent but sporting a strange mix of accents from all clans, such that he sounded native to none of them.
As she was attempting to puzzle out the mystery he represented, she felt Bjorn stiffen from his position on the tree to her left. Her intuition warned her of incoming stupidity, and she acted without thinking, shouting for her companions to ‘hold’, even as she started to move.
She heard Bjorn’s command of ‘Vashedan!’ and would have cringed if she had the time. It was a ritualistic battle-cry rarely used by anyone outside of pitched battles, which the mountain clans rarely took-part in anyway. Another sign of his lack of suitability for the role of leader, signalling a desire to recreate the stories and legends of the past with no concept of what constituted an appropriate use of violence and what did not.
Knowing what was coming, and knowing also that she would be too late, she acted regardless; leaping from the tree and barrelling in front of the flightpath of Bjorn’s arrows, she desperately reached forwards with her spear.
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*Lamb*
I grunted with the impact as my shield deflected the first arrow, my ears ringing with the sound of metal on metal and my shoulder stinging from absorbing the power in the projectile.
The second was knocked off-course by Jorge’s spear, which appeared as if by magic only inches from my face, darting out from him like a viper to intercept the arrow with incredible precision.
I felt an intense heat from behind and to my left, Vera having activated her aura. Luckily, I was exempt from its affects as an ally, so the desire to look around at her wasn’t present. I knew though that whoever was hiding in those trees would be drawn to her like a moth to flame. Inexorable. Unrelenting.
I couldn’t feel Nathlan, but I did hear the sound of blade scraping earth, and suspected he was forming a runic circle around him, no doubt working on a battlefield-altering affect to slow and bind our enemies while Vera and Jorge waded into the fray.
My job would be to stay on the edges of the fight and only intervene if an opportunity presented itself. I was a scavenger, a skirmisher, picking targets when the conditions suited me, and otherwise acting as a last line of defence for Nathlan if anyone slipped through the terrifying noose of Jorge and Vera’s combined assault.
I took it all in in a moment, bracing myself behind my shield for the impact of the final arrow, and praying it wouldn’t punch through. The first one had knocked me back a step and bruised my shoulder, and that was with most of its energy being diverted due to the angle of my shield.
A direct hit now would likely knock me to the floor, and I was readying myself for a quick scramble to my feet if the worst were to happen. Thankfully though, no impact was forthcoming.
I heard more shouting, a female voice loud and commanding – the same one that had shouted earlier when the arrows were loosed, I realised – but from much closer. The disdainful echoing man shouted over her, demanding she move and ordering an attack, but there were no further arrows winging their way for my throat, for the moment at least.
I looked over the rim of my shield to see a woman standing on the path before us, back facing our bared blades and staring towards the trees in front. I saw a broken arrow lying on the floor at her side and she stood defiantly, head raised as if daring the trees to strike her down.
Daring the people in the trees more likely. Again, her voice rang out, and even without my understanding of her language, I could feel the animosity in her command.
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*Sadrianna*
She saw the first two arrows slip past her, their speed too great for her to catch, and all she could do was pray to the Thirteen Peaks and Seven Valleys that the travellers had their own methods of defence.
She had sent her spear spiralling forth from her hand to intercept the first two arrows and had missed, but her momentum had brought her within grasping distance of the last, and so she reached out with supernatural speed and plucked it from the air.
She heard the clang of metal on metal, but no thudding of flesh being punctured, no tortured screams or wet coughing to signal a serious injury. She couldn’t spare a moment to glance back and survey the situation as she was sure Bjorn would use her distraction to attempt to finish the job.
Interposing herself between the travellers and the treeline, she glared up at Bjorn and shouted; “Hold, you fool! What were you thinking!?”
His reply was as stupid as she would expect, though still disappointing nonetheless. “They are a threat to the clans. If you stand with them, you will die alongside them!”
“They were no threat before you shot at them, moron!” She replied, then realising the scale of the problem he had created, spoke again before he could interrupt.
“Varney, Ross – secure him. He’s gone too far this time. If he resists, kill him.”
Bjorn sputtered, and she was disappointed to see the two burley members of their Scourer-group hesitate. They were both from his Clan – White-Sky – and she had hoped they would act quickly. If she, or Hashtet – her other team-member – had moved to apprehend Bjorn then he could very well spin it as a retaliatory action against clan White-Sky rather than the necessary pre-emptive peacekeeping action that it was.
Seeing the lack of conviction in her allies, and Bjorn reaching for another arrow, she snapped the arrow in her hand in half, using the cracking sound to draw his focus for just a moment.
“Draw another arrow from your quiver and I will deliver you to your father in pieces. This I swear on the honour of my clan.” She said the words quietly, but with such an intensity that they cut through the clearing all the same.
Her team-members stilled, knowing this was not simply an idle threat from her but a promise she would fulfil. Bjorn slowed his hand, resting it against his quiver but making no further moves. The pressure mounted, as they stared each other down.
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*Lamb*
I stood quietly, not willing to relax my stance as the dark-haired woman before me castigated her companion and ordered his arrest. She clearly had sway in the group, but the lack of response to her demands made me suspect that she was far from the leader.
The man with the deep, echoing voice was clearly nominally in charge, and while he seemed to be the only one willing to commit to a course of violence, the woman before him seemed to be the only one willing to put herself in harm’s way to prevent it.
I sighed internally, feeling a vague feeling of frustration at people in general tickle my mind. Bjron seemed like an ass, sure, but I couldn’t give much credit to the three others who just stood on the sidelines and watched him attack us without cause. What did I care who fired the arrow, so long as they would all stand by and watch me bleed out if it struck true.
Fair play to the woman though – she was quite literally putting her life on the line for strangers. I wanted to speak up in support, but knew that any move I made, verbal or otherwise, was just as likely to hurt as help.
This was clearly a power struggle, with group dynamics playing heavily in the background that I was far too ignorant of to risk involving myself. That being said, I marked the place she was staring at in my mind, knowing it was where Bjorn hid. If a fight did break out again, I’d be aiming to cut the head off the snake while Jorge and Vera distracted the others.
I had to be careful though – the power in that arrow was certainly a step above what I was used to, easily able to piece my leather armour and punch right through my body if it hit.
Finally, the woman seemed to relax a hair, half-turning her head to address me, while still keeping her gaze facing the trees.
“You. Why are you here?” she called, clear and loud enough for all to hear. I assumed this was a test of some sort and decided to keep things simple.
“As my friend stated – we are here to trade, and to speak with your elders.” Better keep it vague than make statements I wasn’t actually sure about. After all, I only had the vaguest summary of Jorge’s plans.
She seemed satisfied, nodding at that and replied, “and how is it that you know our language?”
I shrugged, “My friend – Jorge – has met with the mountain clans before and picked up some of their language. He understands more than he can speak. I do not know all the details – who he met with and when – but you can ask him. As for me…”
I paused, deciding that discretion was the better part of valour. She seemed helpful, and I was thankful she’d stepped in to prevent a fight, but I wasn’t about to trust her with one of my biggest secrets. I recalled the very first conversation in this world I had overheard, and Nathlan’s comments about my language comprehension.
“I have a skill – Scholar’s Tongue. It lets me speak most currently existing languages. I do not grasp the historic or cultural significance of the words I use but can translate roughly on a phrase for phrase basis.”
It wasn’t strictly true, but I didn’t understand the details of my God-Touched boon entirely myself and was hoping that she would likewise not know the details of the Scholar’s Tongue skill Nathlan had mentioned all those moons ago.
Perhaps I’d picked up a little of the prejudices of this new world as well, but the pelt-wearing warrior before me didn’t seem to be the most…academic sort. My gamble seemed to pay off though, as she just shrugged and called up to the trees once more.
“Satisfied? Heshtat, Ross, Varney…I will not ask again. Take his weapon and bind his hands, and I will deal with the lowlanders. Bjorn is clearly unfit to lead this Scourer group, and I will take command in the interim until we return from patrol.”
She waited a heartbeat for acknowledgement from the rest of her cowardly team, or so I had dubbed them, and when none came, she growled – literally growled! – before turning her head slightly to address me once more.
“Back up a few hundred paces. I will deal with this. Do not move until I signal you again, understand me?” It was a command laced with authority, with the unshakable certainty that it would be followed.
And why not? Seemed a sensible thing to do to get out of the way of whatever fight was brewing. I could only hope the woman would be victorious, as I didn’t fancy facing Bjorn or his crew myself. Jorge and Vera could likely kill them with ease, but you never knew how stray arrows could fly in stressful situations, and I didn’t fancy digging one out of my eye or throat.
I nodded, then spoke to my friends. “Back up, she had some business to sort with her boss. Slow and steady, back to the tree line behind us, and we wait there for her signal.”
The others didn’t protest, and we eased back, hands never leaving our weapons and eyes scanning the trees in front for any signs of shooting arrows.
Bjorn shouted something again when it was clear we were leaving, but he was interrupted by Sadrianna, who clanged her shield and spear together and advanced to the treeline.
I didn’t have a good view of what happened next, but the sound itself was terrifying enough.