I nodded slowly, keeping my stance intact though my sword was lowered. Their voice, distorted as it was, gave no clue as to the disposition of the owner. The armoured person shook their head, turning from me and the carnage. I watched as they left to the mage’s side, and turned to the others. Some were badly injured, but not in critical condition.

I’d passed out the potions I held, a few people took a sip each for the horrible burns or rent flesh. They looked demoralized, though many maintained a certain amount of defiance, a fire in their eyes as they looked up to me, and gave me a nod. Their reactions were somewhat unsettling, I expected shock, irrational anger, fear or perhaps numb lethargy.

[The environment might play a factor into that, considering the difficulty we have just handling common threats.] Page ventured. It was somewhat correct, though the slimes were… relatively easy, the recent threats had grown in both scale and severity. According to the others when summer arrived even more beasts would show up. Aside that, there were the graves.

Here, the dead were interred roughly three feet beneath the earth. A simple prayer would be said, and an observance of their death held before the next slumber. There were no markers, grave sites were rotated between farmland. The only records were names, etched onto the bark of a tree.

We didn’t have the time to do any of that now, I called the remainder, those healthy enough to fight. “We’re going to need to rally quickly, the gnolls will fairly soon suspect that they’ve failed, and I’m not sure what they’re going to do next. If any of you feel nauseous, unbalanced, or otherwise unable to commit fully, I’ll need you here. Our injured need the protection.” I couldn’t do rousing speeches, and most of the time it didn’t feel like the right time.

They nodded, and sorted themselves. I had to dissuade the obviously unwell. Inside I groaned. I just had to make guard duty seem like the coward’s way out. I took a deep breath, reassuring some of them of its importance, though I don’t think I got through. They began their preparations, dealing with any nicked weapons and cleaning them of anything they missed just after the fight.

Having completed that I turned to the two… irregulars. The term fit, they certainly looked out of place, though perhaps that was from my own perspective. One was dressed in full plate armour, as I’d explained, the armour was utilitarian in form, with none of the accoutrements I’d come to expect of it. It was also a matte black. The mage in turn wore leather lamellar armour, similar in form to the armour the rest of us wore, though occasionally I felt that it glowed faintly even in the light.

As I approached, the armoured person turned their attention to me, the mage instead continued staring into the distance, exactly the kind of shocked I’d been expecting. My eyes slid back to the other, careful not to move my head. I usually kept those movements to a minimum, for reasons that not even I know not. “Will you be joining the assault?” I directed my question to the warrior, the mage too distracted to register my presence.

“The farmers would be better served if they went home.” The warrior replied. “They are injured, bloodied. Can you guarantee their safety, or even their survival?” Their arms crossed over their chest, and I considered my reply.

“They volunteered, and they know what they signed up for. I’m not strong enough nor reckless enough to assault it on my own, especially when time is of the essence.” I stared where I figured their eyes would be. “Now, will you be joining the assault?”

They stood, picking up the sword from their side, the mage stood as well, following the warrior. A dazed look stayed in his eyes, which was worrying. “Will he be alright in time for the battle? Otherwise it would be better to let him stay here.” I said, the warrior turned to the mage, laying a gauntleted hand on his shoulder. They looked up, and their eyes cleared, I wasn’t entirely sure why, but neither did it matter all that much to me.

The war camp was definitely understaffed now, but even so, I was leading peasants, combat experienced somewhat certainly, but not on a state where we could expect an easy victory. The mage, thankfully, provided aid to start off the battle.

“He’ll make some smoke to irritate them, your approach will be then.” The warrior said. “You should come in from this direction.” They indicated a direction about a hundred and thirty-five degrees from the direction of the wind. “That will allow me and Qent to approach from here.” Forty-five degrees from wind. “The farmers will probably take up arms as well once we engage and stir it up.”

I nodded, but paused. “Assuming we manage to smash them quickly, we’ll need to deal with the gnolls encircling the farmhouses, but if we don’t crush them in time, they might attack the farm.” I furrowed my brow. “They’d fall quickly if so.”

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The warrior said nothing, waving me to follow the farmers, who had already begun to move into position. I sighed, leaving, they either had a plan, or trusted in their abilities, because I wasn’t sure about my end.

The smoke propagated quickly, I presumed they used some kind of wood and leaves, though I was uncertain what they used to make it so thick. Hacking and coughing ensued from the camp, and the source of smoke disappeared. As good a time as any, I raised the sword once, rallying the others to charge the camp. The smoke was mostly dispersed by the wind when we arrived, small mercies.

The coughing quickly identified our foes, and the initial clash went smoothly. I swiftly pushed through, ambient war cries from both our side and the enemy blurring together. My throat was dry, and I imagine it was not much better for the others. I couldn’t see if the mage and warrior had joined, but occasionally the wind would bring distant curses and the sound of flames.

I slashed my sword diagonally, catching the gnoll’s spear with my left hand and jerking it back. I ducked closer as it attempted to stab me with a dagger, a hard chop severing its neck from throat to spine. As it gurgled and died I looked around. I’d cleared the way to the farm houses, and the farmers had joined the fight. This left me an awkward position, namely in the centre of our forces.

I persevered outwards, carried in part by the flow of others who wished to join the fight. The gnolls from the other camps had been roused, our forces split down into two, pushing at the now manageable remnants. I joined the group opposite to where the two irregulars had inserted, I doubted their side would need as much help.

I filtered past the houses, joining the fight from the side with a spear I’d picked up from the ground. I leapt from the side, impaling one of the gnolls in the side with the spearhead. I pulled it out and stabbed a few more, but dropped it, drawing my sword as they attempted to surround me. Reckless, but awfully satisfying. I grinned.

The fight took up a few hours, though thinned, we sustained casualties, which we collected and placed on an empty field. The gnoll corpses were burnt, their equipment was kept, to be sold or used for their own defence. Our dead were interred here as well, but their names would be carved at home, where they lived and belonged.

“Thank you.” A man, the owner of the farm, said to us as we prepared to leave. His arm lay in a sling, fashioned by his wife, apparently a fairly knowledgeable person on herbs and medical techniques, though I had to decline some of her ministrations, dubious as they were in my mind. “I’m glad you managed to arrive so quickly.”

The two irregulars stood further out, the warrior had opened their visor, but in the distance and the evening light I could not make out their features. The two were conversing, the mage becoming more animated as they went, though not agitated, as the warrior had slowly become. I turned away, we needed to return before sunset, and there were names we would need to carve.

I was lost in thought when the mage walked up to me, only noticing when he tapped on my shoulder. “We would like to talk to you, away from the others.” Another private chat. I thought, clutching a strip of leather in my gauntlet.

“First off, can you remove the faceplate on that helm?” The warrior said, her voice clear now that the visor had been flipped up. I lifted my hand to my face, detaching the faceplate and pulling it off. The two watched my face intently as I did so, and I took the opportunity to look them both in the eyes, hanging my faceplate from the shoulder. The man’s face was somewhat unshaven, a few nicks marked places where he’d cut himself recently, not used to living rough perhaps.

The woman’s features told me something else, her eyes were hard and intense. no scarring was present, though I wasn’t all that surprised, cranial wounds to plate armoured foes tended not to leave them alive. I doubted the areas by her joints fared as well though. “What did you want to talk about?” I said, watching the mage fidget.

“Huh, so you were human.” The warrior said, surprised. I hadn’t gotten over the use of flames as the conflict determiner in the gnoll ambush, though I accepted it as necessary. Perhaps it showed on my face, her amusement seemed to calm soon enough. “You are frustrated.” She said.

Sherlock Holmes. I snarked, the thought kept to myself. I relaxed myself, it wouldn’t do to be like this, without them it would’ve been far worse. Nothing really changed but my body language, a slight relaxing of tensed muscles. “What did you want to talk about?” I repeated again.

“Qent would like to ask you to join us.” The warrior spoke, her tone level and serious. I arched an eyebrow. “It would be best for us to be a single group, allowing us to more easily tackle threats like this one.” She gestured to the farm. The farmers had been vague, but they made a good team, clearing out threats at speed. “I do not second the plan. Your actions have not been satisfactory to me.”

My eyebrow arched higher, and she continued. “You endangered those who came with you because you didn’t expect an ambush; you had no clear plan to deal with the gnolls themselves.” She pulled to her full height, which exceeded mine by an inch or two, in the armour. “There doesn’t seem to be anything remarkable for you except this armour.” She rapped on the breastplate, I’d shock-proofed it, and felt nothing.

I nodded, and turned to leave. “Nothing to say?” The warrior called. I continued, working with them would be counterproductive. Though she was correct, I had nothing going for me except the armour, that would have to change. My combat skills needed to be adapted, those I would fight were far different from the normal humans I’d trained to fight. Goblin shamans, for instance. I recalled the magic that Qent had used. Magic will require surprise or some clever actions on my end. I thought to myself.

We made the journey home, uneventfully, arriving late at night, torches casting a warm glow across the treeline. I walked to the Lore Tree, drawing my carving knife, and carved in two names.

Yinea.

Mills.

I repeated a simple prayer, retiring to the dormitories.